Tumgik
#anyways this is a long way of saying if canvas is messing up THAT bad
mvltisstuff · 10 months
Note
hello again, i’ve requested a few times (the feels and sweet nothing) and i was hoping i could request again? (i think i might add an emoji at the end bc i love your writing and will keep requesting as much as you allow ❤️❤️) anyway, i hope you’re doing well and things are going good.
i was wondering if i could request a buck fic where is partner is an artist and he finds a sketchbook of sketches of him and when he asks about it they talk about how pretty he is and how deserves to be appreciated and just making him feel super loved with it. thank you if you get to it and ofc no troubles if you don’t. take care 🥰
also is 🚒 good for a way to recognize me??
wasteland, baby! - e.b
Tumblr media
summary: request
evan buckley x reader
a/n: omg you always have such creative ideas! i love receiving requests so always feel free :)) 🚒 = ❤️‍🔥 i also won’t be posting as frequently for the next few weeks due to finals, but after that i’ll be posting a ton!!
buck had come over to y/n’s apartment after his shift for dinner, and the scent of thick acrylic paint and primer had stung at his nostrils. he began to love the smell, as he knew that it meant she was around. he had let himself in with his key, taking in all of the perfectly placed plants and artwork on the walls.
she had a canvas that was almost complete, with just a few finishing touches. buck had walked over to it to examine. her talent was extraordinary. he knew it was out of this world, and the way she was so proud of her pieces his made his heart swell up with love.
“hi, buck!” y/n says, beginning to walk out of the hallway from her room to her art. she was wearing a pair of dark green pants and a white t-shirt which somehow complimented her beautifully. her face had small specks of blue and red on her cheeks and black and grey streaks on her shirt. “sorry it’s such a mess in here, but doesn’t this look great?”
“no, don’t worry about the mess, but how long did that take? it’s amazing!” buck stutters a big, not being able to comprehend how art like that could come out of her hands.
“thank you, love,” she replies, taking his belongings and placing them down for him. “how was work today? anything good?”
“just a normal old day, but you know it’s the 118.”
“it is never normal at the 118,” y/n smiles and gives him a cheek kiss before going to wipe her face off. buck goes to sit down in her living room on the couch, and she follows behind him with a quick change of shirt. she placed a small pizza in the oven to cook for them, and cuddled up next to him while they told each other stories about their day.
“it was wild, y/n,” buck starts. “i mean this woman literally rose from the dead after like 15 minutes, after being under a street. oh! you’re going to love this- and we saved some puppies in a sewer.”
“oh my god, are they ok?”
“they’re all fine, but i’m not sure if we are right now.”
“what do you mean?” she asks, slowly and carefully.
“you don’t smell something burning?”
she takes a deep inhale and looks over to her smokey kitchen. it wasn’t too bad, but definitely enough to make it inedible. “shit! fuck, i forgot about it!” she says, bouncing the pan up and down while trying not to burn herself.
y/n was busy discarding of the pizza when buck looked over at her with joy. he had a cheeky smile on his face and was laughing at the forgetfulness of both of them. he looked back down in front of him and the coffee table, and he saw a book that y/n always has on her. she brings it to work, to her family, anywhere she goes, she has it. it was her beloved sketchbook, filled with hundreds of small doodles and big pieces. buck has seen a lot of things in it, admiring each one before he comes across a bookmarked section.
when he flips the pages of the book, he notices that the person that is sketched and shaded looks particularly familiar. he makes note of the sharp nose and soft, but hard jaw. he sees the famous birthmark on the side of his face. he’s never looking right on, though. he’s always focused on something or has a light grin on his face. buck knows these are of him, but he doesn’t think he had any importance to be the top drawing in her book.
y/n walks back in to greet her boyfriend, “i think we might just have to ord-“ she looks at the sketches that she had put on that paper. a heat rose up into her face, reddening her cheeks and making her feel a sense of embarrassment.
“a-are these me?” buck asks, quietly. y/n nods, slowly, praying that she didn’t make him uncomfortable and that she will see him again tomorrow. “i-um..”
“you don’t have to say anything, buck. i never meant for you to see those and if you don’t like them, i’ll never do it again i swear. you just, you’re so beautiful, buck. and i love to draw beautiful things.”
“i just don’t know what to say, these are so good. i feel like you know me more than i know myself,” he says, chuckling a bit.
“you like ‘em?”
“i love them,” buck says.
“good, i just couldnt stop myself. you are always so pretty, no matter what and i want you to know that, so i tried to convey it through this. i was going to show you eventually, but i wanted to do more.”
“why me, though? you could draw anyone,” buck asks.
“no one else is you! you might have a pretty face and all but there is really nothing more beautiful than your soul. you are filled with so much love and sweetness and i’ve been dying to find a way to show you, because you are loved, evan. i love you and i wanted to put my two favorite things together. not a day goes by where i have anything but love for you.”
suddenly, the feeling in bucks chest is rising stronger, feeling like it’s going to burst. when it does, he has strong riptides of tears in his eyes. with a pure smile on his face, he passionately leaves a kiss on her lips, and he feels loved for the first time.
growing up, his parents never showed him love. he always begged for it from everyone he knew, and now he feels like it isn’t deserved. but someone, y/n made him feel like he will forever be worthy of love. and he will never forget how she fixed him for the best.
271 notes · View notes
weronikasstuff · 1 year
Text
lipstick - h.kuina
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"move baby, move baby, im in love" west coast - lana del rey
___________________________________________
kuina was in deep shit.
and that was an understatement. 
she was currently on her bed at 5AM after a long night of no sleep, and lots of thinking.
and in that time she had come to a conclusion.
 kuina was in love with you.
this was a problem, and a big one.
you both lived in a world where love was not an options. chances are, you’ll get attached way too fast and hard, and then at one point the person you love will be taken away from you, and this was something that she knew.
yet she couldn’t help feeling like this.
she desperately tried to think of what to do, and came to the conclusion that she would never tell you. what good would come out of it anyway? a moment of happiness, then one single mistake leading to your heath, and a life of sadness.
was it really worth it?
no, she decided, whilst she desperately tried to get some sleep, knowing that she wouldn’t get a lot, all because you were clouding her head.
___________________________________________
kuina was awoken due to a loud banging at her door. she groaned, wondering what was going on, before you burst in.
“oh look it’s sleeping beauty” you chucked “do you know what time it is?”
your voice tightened the knot inside her chest, and the butterflies began flying as if they were on steroids inside there.
“no” she grumbled sleepily.
“well, it’s 10AM. come on, i’m here to help you get ready” you said brightly, dragging her into her bathroom and giving her clothes to wear before leaving so she could get changed with privacy.
several minutes later, kuina emerged, her hair fresh and washed as well as her skin, smelling amazing, and wearing clean clothes.
“can i help you do your makeup?” you begged, wanting to see how well you could do on such a beautiful canvas as she was.
truth was, you were in love with kuina too.
and also determined to keep it a secret from her.
“fine” she rolled her eyes, before giving you her makeup bad.
you squealed, as you began your masterpiece.
___________________________________________
this was not going well.
the makeup process had to be restarted multiple times, due to you messing up somehow, whether it way the eyeliner, or blush, or eyeshadow. you both laughed it off, having as much fun as ever during the tedious process.
at last, you both had agreed on just doing the lipstick, as it was very difficult to mess up.
she handed it to you, and you shook your hands, stressed, and focused on not messing up (definitely not sweaty from the major crush you have on the woman in front of you).
you started to outline her lips, and she stared down at you with large eyes. oh, how she longed to kiss you - your beautiful eyes looking at her so perfectly.
one you were done, you gave her the mirror, and she gasped.
her lips looked amazing.
“i love it!” you say, proud of your creation.
“i love you” she said, with a big smile on her face, before realizing what she said.
her smile instantly dropped before anxiously looking at you, wondering if you heard her.
you froze, before staring back at her.
kuina could have easily passed away in that moment, anxiously waiting for your reply.
“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to say that” you reply, before closing the gap between you both with a kiss.
your lips meet as you both smile, love filling the air, and eyes bright as you realise what this means for your, soon to be blossoming relationship.
___________________________________________
81 notes · View notes
teleiapotami · 8 months
Text
NaLu Week Day 7
Prompt: New Adventures
The Grand Magic Games are over and Fairy Tail is back at home. In the aftermath of Future Lucy's death, Natsu is loathe to let his Lucy out of his sight. Cuddling can be platonic anyway, right?
@allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive
Lucy tilted her head out through the canvas of their covered wagon. The ride back to Magnolia was a long one, and even she was beginning to get tired of the constant rocking and jolting as their cart rumbled along the uneven path home. The sun on her upturned face brought a warmth to her that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. Natsu let out another low moan, drawing her attention again. He was slumped over against Wendy who was pressing against Lucy’s side, trying to escape the jerks and twitches that kept wracking Natsu’s frame.
“Come on Wendy, I’ll trade you spots. You feel bad enough without having to deal with his sweaty mess up against you.” Lucy giggled at the badly concealed look of relief on Wendy’s face and stood up to switch spots. She leaned down to Natsu’s level and brushed her thumb over his cheek.
“Sit up a bit and I’ll let you lay on my lap Natsu,” she said softly. He let out a whine but shifted his arm under him to lift himself just enough so she could slide under his head. The moment she was beneath him he let himself flop back down onto her legs, making her yelp and glare at him with annoyance. Still, his misery pulled at her sympathy, and she let her fingers begin their usual dance along his scalp. 
The events following the games had been intense, and though peace had returned, Natsu wasn’t sure he would ever feel entirely at peace again. Certainly not until he managed to avert the future that led to Lucy’s death. He wanted to sleep, to escape the pains he was experiencing from the movement of the torturous vehicle he was trapped in, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the blood spraying from Lucy’s body as it was pierced by Rogue’s projectile. He saw her collapse into her own arms, and he watched her die over and over again in his dreams.
He buried his head into her lap, choosing to deal with the pain instead of the nightmares. At least while he was awake he could feel her warmth against his skin as life pulsed through her, and her scent surrounded him, untainted by the cold, metallic undernotes of death and blood.
Once Magnolia’s homecoming parade was over, the members of Fairy Tail went their separate ways to recover, rest, or return to work. Happy flew off with Carla and Lily, leaving Natsu and Lucy to walk toward her apartment together. Natsu was grinning with his hands behind his head as they walked along the canal.
Lucy smiled at him. “You certainly look like you feel better.” He just grinned at her brightly, making her heart skip a beat. “Well, good. After all, you achieved over the last two weeks, you deserve to be happy.”
“Pretty sure we both do, Luce. Cause there’s no way any of us would have survived if it wasn’t for you……er…her? Both of you.”
Lucy nodded solemnly. “Yeah….She was pretty amazing, huh? I’m not sure I could have done what she did….Losing the guild….Losing you…and still finding the strength to look for some way to fix it?” She wasn’t sure of her own strength, but she knew without a doubt that her Natsu would die for her, just like the other Lucy’s.
“Well, good thing I made sure to smash that gate to bits, so it’ll never happen. And I’m gonna keep on protecting your future, just like I promised.” He didn’t feel like he could tell anyone what else Future Rogue had warned him about. Not even Lucy. She smiled softly and wiped her eyes where tears were threatening to form.
“Thanks, Natsu. Hey, let’s grab some food and stuff and have a sleepover tonight. What do you say?” Natsu punched the air with a fiery fist and whooped. She giggled at his infectious enthusiasm. Natsu wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight yet anyway. A sleepover just meant he wouldn’t have to break in later. He held out his hand to her with a toothy grin. The moment she took it he took off with a cackle, dragging her along to the restaurant district.
“And that is why I think Cana should be the centerfold instead of Mira,” Natsu crowed triumphantly. He shoved another muffin into his mouth whole.
“Natsu…. Gildarts wouldn’t come to fight you just because Cana modeled. She’s been in Sorcerer Weekly before, remember? Besides, why would he fight you and not Cana or even the magazine people?” Lucy twisted a lock of her hair around her fingers, trying to figure out his logic.
Natsu sat back and stretched out. “Ah fon hink oo—” he swallowed hard and started again, “I don’t think you understand how much he loves those bikini girls. If Cana was the only girl in those things, Gildarts would come straight home to make her stop. And then Cana would tell him it was all my idea and BAM! Gildarts gets a beat down.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’d think after all those battles we just survived you would think about something other than more fighting.” When he didn’t respond she looked up from her hair twisting. He was staring at the wall with a faraway look that hurt her heart. “Natsu?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m here…” Wherever he was, it was certainly not next to her on the couch Lucy knew. She scooted over and leaned against his side, nervously pushing a piece of cookie around her plate.
The sudden contact startled him, and he looked down finally. Finding her curled against him as though she was made to fit there made him happy somehow, and a contented hum resonated through his chest.
“Natsu…” Lucy spoke softly, “We’re just friends, right?”
“Uh, as far as I know…why?”
She giggled softly at his response, then continued, “D’you think you could….maybe come to bed with me tonight? You know, platonically.” The words tumbled from her mouth a bit faster than she intended.
“Er- What’s that mean again?” he asked with a grunt.
“Platonic means just as friends. Not romantically,” she clarified.
“Oh, sure. I don’t mind if you don’t. To be honest….I don’t want to be too far away from you right now…. you know…” he trailed off.
Lucy nodded and laid her head against his neck. “I get it, and I feel the same.” She let herself snuggle deeper into his warmth and tugged the blanket off the back of the couch over her legs. “Start the movie. Unless you have more to say about Cana in bikinis.”
He chuckled and did as she asked, settling into his role of warm pillow. Even though he had been the one to choose their movie lacrima for the evening, he found himself far more interested in the way the lights danced across Lucy’s face. Her expressions were more adorable than he’d ever realized. Especially the way she scrunched up her nose at certain moments. He was always the one in her lap and now that the roles were reversed, he wanted to enjoy it. With that goal in mind, he gently slid his fingers through her golden hair. It was like silk, slipping between his fingers easily. Lucy made a small sound of contentment that made him smile. Following an instinct he couldn’t explain, he tangled his fingers into the hair at the back of her head and gave it a gentle tug.
Lucy let out a gasp and a soft moan escaped her before she pressed her hand over her mouth and glared up at him angrily as she sat up. He smiled sheepishly, holding up his hands in surrender. “Sorry…I just wondered what would happen.”
She pouted at him warily. “Not nice, Natsu.”
“I dunno, the sound was pretty nice. I won’t do it again, promise.” He shrugged and chuckled at the blush that colored her cheeks. She tried to hide it from him by returning to her position against his chest. They finished the movie in comfortable silence. Natsu busied his hands drawing slow patterns lightly ­along the exposed skin of Lucy’s midriff. Another action that drew adorable shivers and squeals from her every so often, he noted.
Later in the evening, Lucy sat curled up in her bed reading a book. Natsu pushed out of the bathroom with her towel wrapped around his hips. He crossed the room to her dresser without a word. “What are you doing Natsu?” she watched him over the edge of her book.
He opened her underwear drawer and replied without looking up. “Grabbing my spare pants, obviously. Why has your panty collection gotten even bigger?? Who needs this many? Ooh, that’s a new color, I bet it looks great against your—”
“Natsu!! Get out of there! You don’t have any pants here!” She launched off the bed and tried to snatch the sapphire pair of lace panties off the finger he was dangling them from, but he held them above her.
“Shows what you know. I hid some here weeks ago for when I sneak—I mean when I stay over.” He continued digging through the drawer, letting her grab her undies out of his hand when he pulled a pair of black sleep pants out from under the mountain of her lace collection. “Haha! See?”
Lucy wasn’t paying any attention to him now, as she stuffed her clothing back into the drawer he had so rudely invaded. She turned around to scold him some more but was met with Natsu’s completely naked backside as he dropped the towel and pulled up his pants. She yelped and covered her burning face. “NATSU!”
“What now?” he whined.
“You could have done that in the bathroom!”
“Oh, come on. It’s not like we didn’t just spend ten minutes bouncing around Crocus in a bell together while you were naked. This just makes us even.” He laughed at the horrified expression on her face. “Don’t tell me you forgot about that!”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “I was trying to. You are seriously making me reconsider having you stay over.” He laughed and pulled her against him for a hug.
“No, come on. Let’s go lay down and be…pantolic or whatever.” He flopped onto her bed and patted the spot beside him. Lucy snorted as she followed him. “It’s platonic, Natsu.”
He shook his head with a grin. “It’s cuddling Lucy.” He laid back against the pillow and stretched out his arm, giving her a pointed look. With a roll of her eyes and a stifled giggle, she crawled up the bed and settled into his side with her head on his bare chest.  
They lay quietly together for a while, the sound of Natsu’s heartbeat drowning out everything else around her. Then his chest rumbled, and he started telling her about dragons. Did she know his dad was known as the Fire Dragon King? She shook her head gently in response and he continued. Most of what he said she had heard before, either from him, Mira, or Erza, but she let him talk. As he did, she trailed her fingers over his skin, tracing the line of his collarbone and down the center of his chest. She paused at the beginning of his abs and looked up at him, but he was still talking, looking at the ceiling.
He was telling her about his uncle now, Atlas Flame, whom he’d apparently met during the dragon battle. Lucy listened with more interest this time but resumed her tracing of the lines along his muscled stomach. She sat up on her elbow to follow the line until it met his pants, then dragged her fingers along their edge to the pink skin of his newly healed wound from Rogue. His breathing hitched and he paused in his story to glance down at her fingers against him.
“Sorry,” she said hurriedly, and made to move her hand away from him, but he caught her wrist. He pressed her hand flat against his skin again. “Don’t stop. I like it when you touch me.” Her hand twitched under his as her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t pull away. When he released her and returned to describing the taste of his uncle’s fire she resumed her tracings. She followed the line of the scar down to trace along the lines of his exposed hip bones, then followed his pants back across his belly to begin the journey back up his body in reverse.
Natsu felt like her fingers were leaving trails of sparks dancing along his body. He felt every brush of her skin against his more intensely than he had ever felt any attack in all his life. He finished telling her about Atlas Flame and fell silent, closing his eyes to bask in the sensations her fingertips were leaving behind them. He jumped a little when she began to outline the features of his face, and when she reached his lips he licked her hand with a grin.
Lucy recoiled instantly and wiped her fingers on his chest with a disgusted sound. Natsu cackled gleefully. “That’s what you get for tickling me.”
She glared. “I wasn’t tickling you, and you said you liked it either way.”
“I did. Still tickled.” He mirrored her position, sitting up on his elbow and facing her. “Your turn. Lay back and tell me a story. We’ll see if you still think it wasn’t tickling,” he challenged. Lucy frowned a little, feeling distinctly baited, but she refused to back down from a chance to prove him wrong. She rolled onto her back and studied the ceiling. “Tell me how you ended up naked in that bell, I bet that’s a good story,” he teased, laughing at the pout she put on again.
“I’ll tell you, but you don’t get to interrupt to make fun of me.” After securing his promise, she relaxed a bit and settled into telling him what happened to her after they parted ways. Natsu settled in beside her as she had, and traced his finger around the shell of her ear, then down along her jaw. He followed the line of her throat down, then came back up her collarbone. He found himself mesmerized by her lips as he let the backs of his fingers trace down her arm.
Lucy shivered under his gaze but tried to stay focused on her story. He returned his focus to his hand and walked his fingers along the bottom edge of her cropped sleep shirt, smiling when her breathing hitched momentarily. Her skin was so smooth under his fingers that he worried his rough hands might irritate it, but she didn’t seem interested in stopping him, so he continued.
He followed the centerline of her stomach to the waistband of her shorts. Following the same path she did, he traced the edge to one hip, then back across to the other. She squirmed under his touch slightly and he grinned. He sat up and shifted to sit at the foot of the bed and pulled her legs up to rest in his lap.
“Natsu?” Lucy paused in her story to give him a curious look.
“Keep going.” He waited until she resumed her story before he dragged his fingers slowly up from her ankle to the gentle bend in her knee. He traced the lines of her kneecap before switching to the other and following the same path back to the ankle. He caressed the top of her feet, then returned slowly to her knees. Lucy trailed off as she finished sharing and watched him, her lips parted slightly.
He glanced up at her. “I can stop.”
She shook her head, blushing. “I like it…w-when you touch me.” He wet his lips and let his fingers continue their gentle exploration up Lucy’s outer thigh. Again, he followed the bottom of her shorts around to her inner thigh and trailed his fingers back down. He repeated the action on her other leg, smirking when she trembled against him.
“Told you it tickled,” he said as he shifted her legs back down and crawled over her to lay down beside her again.  Lucy couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Platonic or not, his fingers felt good against her skin, and she didn’t want them to stop. As though he could read her mind, Natsu murmured against her, “Sorry. I ran out of places to explore that aren’t under clothes.”
Lucy smiled and made to settle against his side again, but he rolled over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer. Finding her face pressing against his throat, she turned her head slightly and nipped at his collarbone, making him grunt and loosen his grip just a little. She looked up at him just in time for him to press a soft kiss on her forehead and bury his nose into her hair.  She closed her eyes contentedly.
“God Luce, you smell so damn good. It drives my instincts haywire when you’re so close like this.” Lucy felt her pulse speed up a bit and she tucked her head under his chin again. With her ear against his body, she could hear his heart thudding almost as fast as hers.
“You could let me go then if it bothers you so much,” she said. His arms tightened again, and she giggled, pressing a kiss to the base of his throat. She was so comfortable curled into his embrace, his warmth chasing away the chill of the night air creeping into her window, that it wasn’t long before she felt herself begin to doze off.
Natsu felt her lips against his skin, he felt her body grow heavier as she relaxed, and he felt her breathing slow to the steady rhythm of sleep. Relaxing his grip, he rolled onto his back and looked down at her, studying her. Natsu, we’re just friends…. Her words echoed through his mind. It was a true statement, though they had never said it aloud before. Once it was out there, Natsu realized that it didn’t sit right with him anymore. Lucy was much more than his friend. But if he didn’t like the idea of them being just friends, then what did he want?
Lucy let out a soft moaning mumble in her sleep and he glanced down at her lips. He wanted to be more than friends…but what exactly did that mean? He began to study the relationships of those closest to them for some clue as to what he wanted. Levy and Gajeel were more than friends, but that seemed to be the same situation he was in now. Neither of those two had made any move to change their relationship one way or the other. His thoughts turned to Bisca and Alzack. They had always been awkward around each other, and everyone had known that they would be together eventually. Come to think of it, wasn’t that what he’d overheard said about him and Lucy anyway?
He thought about Biscan and Alzack’s relationship overall. They were married and had sweet Asuka, who brought more light and joy into the guild than Natsu had ever felt before. Was that the more than friends he wanted? Having kids was not something he was ready for yet, but spending his life with Lucy was something he liked the idea of. He rolled over to wrap her in his arms again and let sleep claim him at last.  
Several hours later Lucy jolted awake when something shook her sharply. She sat up quickly and looked around. Natsu was beside her, his legs tangling in the sheets. His face was twisted in a grimace of pain and anger, and his arm came up as though he were trying to grab something. All he managed to do was hit Lucy in the lip. With a hiss at the pain, Lucy tried to shake him awake but it didn’t help. Her shaking only seemed to upset him further and his legs began to kick.
Relying on her instincts, Lucy ducked under another swipe of his arm and swung her leg across his hips to pin him down. She caught hold of his face and shook him again. “Natsu! Wake up, please! Natsu!!”
He jolted under her and sat up suddenly. She yelped and grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling off the bed when his momentum threatened to dislodge her. He caught her by the hips and settled her back against him. “Luce?” he blinked up at her.
“You….you were having a nightmare,” she mumbled, running her thumb over his cheek gently. His eyes were still slightly unfocused, and she wasn’t sure if he was even seeing her properly. “Natsu, are you okay?”
His fingers tightened on her hips, and she felt his finger slip under the waistband of her shorts slightly. “Lucy…” he murmured, letting his head fall forward to rest on her shoulder. She could feel his pulse pounding against her where her arm was resting against his neck. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “I love you.”
She thought he was talking in his sleep until his arms slid up her back to pull her against his chest and his lips found the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. His tongue darted over the sensitive skin there before he kissed it gently, sending shivers up her spine. Her skin broke out in goosebumps under his hands. She licked her lips lightly and tried to swallow the trembles that his tongue was trying to draw out of her. When he bit into the soft flesh, she lost her concentration and moaned, dropping her head back.
He sucked gently there for a moment before moving his mouth up to kiss along her neck slowly. Lucy squirmed as his breath tickled against her but went still when she felt something hard beneath her. Natsu let out a low groan and his hips lifted against hers slightly. She whimpered when he bit into her neck again, sucking harder this time. “N-Natsu….”
In the span of a heartbeat, he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. Her legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, and she rolled her hips up to meet his again with a gasp of his name. His tongue traced along her collarbone, and he nibbled at it the way she had at his just hours before. “Natsu…..t-this is all….starting to feel – ah!
His hands slid up her sides and under her shirt to rest against her ribcage. She didn’t know anymore whether she wanted him to stop or keep going. His teeth dragged along her neck until he bit her earlobe and tugged lightly at it. “This doesn’t feel…very platonic anymore….” she breathed.  He drew his nose along the shell of her ear before pulling back. He gazed down at her. “I already told you I don’t know what that means.”
He leaned down to meet her lips with his softly. She let out a breathless giggle and he pulled back to look at her. “I’m not sure I remember either anymore …” She pulled him down to kiss him again. There would be time to figure out their relationship tomorrow. If meeting Future Lucy had taught her anything, it was not to waste any of the time they had together.
A/N: And there you have it! I had such a great time working on my first NaLu Week, and I hope you all enjoyed reading!! <3<3
29 notes · View notes
lyrstybsd · 1 year
Text
Elise and PortMafia!Reader
Pain, Hurt and... Doodles?
tw: mentions of blood, m*ri characters: elise, tachihara, gin, m*ri, chuuya, akutagawa
fluff time!
Tumblr media
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." You think to yourself as you trip on a wire, your legs already bloodied with both of different types. They gain on you as you look up at Akutagawa with wide eyes, as if he were already gone. He grunts in distraught, Rashomon slicing at the pursuit team. Akutagawa rushes to pick you up by the arms.
"I told you. You should've stayed for your break." Akutagawa says in his usual tone, but a bit more jabbing. Does Atsushi always hear that?
"Couldn't let you do it all by yourself." You say, hissing as the cold wind brushes by your wounds.
The two of you flee the scene, already possessing what was needed. As you are fixed up by the infamous Mori, Akutagawa explains the events that took place aswell as leaving something on his desk. You lifted your head up to see what it was, but he just put your head back down. "Ah-ah-ah... You need to rest." He says in his disgustingly velvet-like tone. Your eyes were too blurry anyways.
After all was done, you were in a cast and crutches. Man, did it just hurt every step of the way? As you walk out and into the waiting room, you see Tachihara staring at you. "And I thought I had it bad." He says, gawking at you.
Your eyes narrow as you look to the side. "Ion wanna talk about it." You mutter, and he sighs.
He pats the chair next to his, and you sit down. "So? Tell me everything." Tachihara says, his tone betraying pique.
Well, you tell him everything. But just to call you out, you indeed mumbled quite a bit of the part where you fell. Despite all that, he still was impressed. "Well, atleast you came back alive." He says, elbowing your shoulder.
"Fuuuuuuuck..." You hiss at the pain. "Tachi!"
"Whooops! My bad!"
You both talk a bit, and you get to know what mission he was doing. Turned out that Tachihara was on a coverted mission, but he slipped up. Unsurprisingly, Gin and Chuuya had to come in to handle it all out. On top of the beating he got from the targets, he got an additional one from the two of them. "How come I'm not surprised?" You mumble.
"Hey, you said you wouldn't judge!" He says.
You and Tachihara both talk, not noticing Elise coming into the room with a box of markers. She sits on the chair that's on the right of you, and starts drawing on your cast. Tachihara was the first to notice, and looks at her with doting eyes. "Awhh! Whatcha drawing there?" Tachihara coos.
"Nothing much." She says blankly, her eyes not leaving your cast.
You look to Elise, finally noticing her. "Aren't you just an artist?" You comment, looking at the doodles she had already made.
"Mhm!" She hums in agreement.
"And I just get 'nothin' much!?'" You laugh his statement off.
On your cast decorated flowers, hearts, a self-portrait of Elise, Gin, and Chuuya's hat. "Y/N." Elise says, finally looking up at you.
"Yes?"
"You are... A good canvas." Elise comments.
You raise an eyebrow, but nod. "Thank you." You say.
It only takes a few moments, and Gin walks in. "Tachihara." She says, staring at him.
"Gin!" Tachihara jumps a bit in his seat. "I learned my lesson. Please forgive me!"
Chuuya also enters the room. "As long as you know what to do next time."
"Don't..." Chuuya and Gin start, but notice Elise. "...Mess up." They filter themselves.
Tachihara sighs. "I won't...~" He says, tired.
Chuuya looks over you, and sees Elise drawing on you. He seems to have his interest piqued, and walks over to you. "Hey, Y/N..." He starts, looking you up and down, specifically looking for any more wounds. "Be careful next time."
"I will. My wounds were just a fluke anyways." You say, brushing it off.
Gin purses her lips, looking at Chuuya. He looks back, and shakes his head. He looks to Elise, seeing her drawings. "You've improved." Chuuya says awkwardly, and Elise smiles.
"I'm glad you noticed." She says. "Maybe if you get bruised too, I can draw on your bandages!" She adds cheerfully, and you can feel Chuuya cringe.
"Yeah..." He simply says, looking to the others. "Anyways, Gin and I are on break. Tachihara, you're with us. Y/N..." He pauses. "Heal well."
You nod. "Cya." You say as the three leave the room. You and Elise spend the hour simply drawing on eachother.
Tumblr media
requests are open! reposts are appreciated <3
29 notes · View notes
streetlight-halo · 1 year
Note
Long paragraphs (Ask?) ahead!
i dont really have a question, but ill add it at the bottom so im still asking a question to submit this lol! (im new in tumblr so uh)
im just kinda here to make a sort of confession. i stalked your tumblr account and of course i love your arts (no, thats not the confession.) im enamoured with just how your ideas really translate into your doodles. the way you can really see that you dont have fears how it will turn out, you just,,, create. how do i describe the thoughts you make me think of when i look at your arts? the way it looks and how very free you are in expressing your ideas. like, you have nothing holding you back, no insecurities.
i apologize if it seems like a backhanded compliment but im most likely comparing you to myself, how i feel restrained whenever i face a canvas bc i have to make it look good. always. but seeing your art has broken those beliefs. you turned over my world and for a few minutes of processing what i felt, my only thoughts about you was 'what a curious entity,' because whats foreign to us is often so considered that way. you were that to me. and i left it at that.
but then i was doing my chores, or something equally mundane in my everyday life, nothing related to drawing or art or tma. and then i had a sudden, random thought that i want to be as free as that one tumblr user. and i realized you made more of an impression to me than i initially thought because im frustrated, while also trying to be gentler with myself that i want to be free too. that youre supposed to enjoy the art you make and youre supposed to do it for yourself and youre supposed to enjoy the process while kicking yourself in the butt because youre suffering with art but you still love it. you gave that impression to me. and i love your works.
so i guess the confession here is that i just trauma dumped you(i think.) no, srlsy though, you just caused me an epiphany and i want to thank you for that.
anyways, how's your day? hopefully i didnt ruin it with this unnecessary rant. thank you for reading.
I’m so sorry if anything I say comes off odd, anon, I’m kind of. At a loss for words rn,,
First off just. Thank you so much. Thank you for taking the time to write this and thank you for sending it. This really means a lot. I’m honored to have had such an effect on someone, and I’m so happy that you’ve found meaning in my art.
Not sure if Tumblr automatically cuts off long asks anyway but. A lil bit of rambling under the cut hsjfkfd
(Probably going to restate a lot of stuff that’s been said by a bajillion people before but you never know. Someone might need it. Sorry anyway)
To be completely honest I’m actually. Not a super carefree person. And ik that for a long time that extended to my art as well. I had to get things just the way I wanted them or what was the point? Whenever I sat down to draw, I thought ‘this is the one. This time I’m obviously going to achieve astonishing godlike perfection with my. pencil i found on the floor and half-baked idea and ten year old hands. Oh yeah this is the one.’ Which of course it never was.
But what I’ve learned is that trying to make something perfect is a 100% Foolproof way to make something you’re not satisfied with. Perfect’s thee most unattainable goal out there because it literally Does Not Exist, so when you try to reach it, it’s logical that you always fall flat in some way
I will now proceed to be the most original person to ever grace this planet and say that mistakes are the only way to improve. You can’t learn unless you try, fail, notice the things you weren’t satisfied with, try again. Wonderful strategy for making a good thing is to make a whole bunch of shitty things.
Even if you don’t notice it, you’re always improving!! All practice is good practice there is literally no such thing as bad practice
Also. Something I’ve found really helpful is that if you mess something up, even if it was going really well beforehand, there’s always the next thing yk? Paint over the canvas to refresh it for the next time you draw. Close the file and open a new one the next day. Shut your sketchbook, let yourself open it again when you’re ready to. There’s always a next time. You can always make something new, no matter how small or big it is.
This has been really long winded I’m sorry. Just I guess what I’m trying to say 2 whoever might still be reading is that letting go of perfect is the best thing you can do in order to make something good. Whether it’s a painting, or a draft, or a cursed little doodle of a cat in the margins of your homework, the closest you can get to something perfect is something that made you happy while you created it.
Here is a little fellow. He loves you a lot
Tumblr media
12 notes · View notes
kazeofthemagun · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
@shiroi---kumo is being a cute nuisance:
Happily does the prince set at the lake side with the soil mage's belt pulled away from the rest of this clothing. His counterpart for the first time in a long time has taken a dip in the lake to bathe and the prince would be hard pressed to stop him. Black Wind wants to be clean? Who was he to say no? You wouldn't hear that word coming from his lips in any language he knew it in and that was well a fair amount.
No, instead the swordsman has agreed to keep watch and once the mage was done they would simply switch places. The Light Unlimited would also like his fair shot at being clean.
In the mean time, his boredom has gotten the better of him and the golden shine of soil casings have gotten his attention. The prince is quick and careful to slip each and every one free from their home within his Other's belt so the Cloud can arrange them in proper chromatic order.
He's grinning when he finishes his work. Absolutely beaming.
"Se on Sateenkari!!"* he announces with a childish joy infecting his tone.
Surely Black Wind will appreciate not having to look for things when he needs them now. ☁️💙
[*Se on Sateenkari = It's a Rainbow]
Tumblr media
The road was long and unforgiving as ever - the small lake they had come across the first in many days. It was an opportunity for rest they needed to take; Even the Wind himself deciding to bide his time and clean off the sweat and grime covering his body.
He was standing in the water up to his waist, clothes lying off to the side at the shore. Half folded, not exactly neat but not carelessly strewn either. The last thing he wanted was having some potentially venomous creatures take shelter in them. The Windarian worked to scrub tan skin clean, the crimson waves of his hair cascading freely down his back. Slowly did he move in deeper, working on the upper portions of his canvas body, ancestral patterns bare on display. A strange man in a strange land - in a way, he fit right in.
The coldness of the water was refreshing, clearing the gunman's mind. The forest was a welcome change of pace from trekking for days on end through a barren wasteland. Black Wind knelt, letting the cool rush envelop him up to the neck, before submerging himself completely.
---------
Eventually, the Windarian finished washing his tremendous amount of hair, heading back to the shore to dry off and put his garments back on. A thorough inspection of his gear revealed no stow-away scorpions or other beasts, and so, on went his undergarments, then trousers, then -
Wait.
His belt. It was gone.
Tumblr media
"WHITE CLOUD!!" He hollered in a not an insignificant amount of panic, turning his attention to the white shape sitting a certain distance away.
Only to be met with a face positively beaming with glee. A... rainbow? What the frigid hells?
And there it was. His arsenal, perfectly unharmed and unstolen, only now arranged according to hue. Kaze's mouth remained agape, confusion plain on his face, simply staring at the display after having yelled so hastily.
He finally caught on how stupid he most surely looked, and closed his jaw, clearing his throat. "Akhem."
Bad move. Now he not only appeared ridiculous, but sounded the part as well. Woe, his fate was sealed.
His eyes traveled up from the line of Soil casings, meeting jade. Awkward. Especially considering he hadn't even finished putting on his trousers, having somehow sped towards his other with one leg dressed and the other mercilessly dragging loose fabric through the dirt.
"White Cloud, I told you..." His hand covered his forehead, tone exasperated and, quite frankly, deflated. The elder Unlimited did not even have the energy to get mad. Not that he currently stood any chance of appearing remotely threatening, anyway. "...Don't mess with my Soil bullets."
He promptly retrieved his belt from the prince's hands, growling rather unconvincingly.
There was no genuine anger in those eyes, after all.
2 notes · View notes
clayfaced · 3 years
Text
.
0 notes
jade-parcels · 3 years
Text
Taking them to meet your parents (pt. 2!)
With Childe, Diluc, Albedo, Venti and Baizhu
Meeting your partner’s parents is a huge step in your relationship!! First impressions are everything!!
—————————
Childe:
Childe is a family guy!! He loves his family and he loves yours too! Even if he’s never met them
He’ll show you photos of his family if you ask so he also wants to see yours too! So by the time he actually gets to meet them, he’ll know who’s who and who likes what :)
Unlike Kaeya and Venti, Childe has total control over his mouth lmao he doesn’t go telling inappropriate jokes or anything. If he wouldn’t say something to his own family, he won’t say it to yours
Childe is sure to help in the kitchen! He isn’t the best cook in the world but it’s the thought that counts!
If you have siblings get ready for Childe to go crazy over them lmao he can’t stop himself from spoiling kids! He’ll bring candy or toys with him when he visits just to make the kiddos like him!
He’ll be polite and kind throughout the whole dinner! And afterwards he’ll ask you a bajillion questions ‘they liked me right? Your dad smiled at me! That means he likes me?? Or maybe he smiled because he hated me! Aw man, I have no idea!’ ‘Relax, Ajax! They liked you!’
If your family uses chopsticks you better give him a lesson beforehand otherwise he will die from embarrassment at the dinner table lmao
Diluc:
‘Which do I wear? The black one or the grey one?’ ‘Whichever you want, sweetheart’ ‘Does black make me look too... unapproachable?’ ‘Diluc, please pick a tie already...’
He’s nervous. Visibly nervous. He’ll be flustered immediately when your parents open the door to let you in! Poor guy, he’s doing his best
Diluc can handle interrogations or strange drunken conversations with bar patrons. He grew up with his family throwing big parties! Now the attention is on him for the night and he’s the one being interrogated lmao
He wants to impress your parents! He really does! Diluc is a humble guy though. He’s one of the richest guys around but he doesn’t believe in waving his money around like a fool
He’ll try to relate to and impress your dad the most, he’s just a traditional guy. At the end of the night he’ll help clean the table and sweep and crumbs off the floor. Before he leaves he’ll give your parents coupons for drinks at his bar too
Any time your parents compliment him or bring up your relationship he’ll get flustered, it’s almost funny how often it happens. He’s so worried about saying something wrong that he ends up stumbling on his words...oh brother get a GRIP man lmao
The whole way home he groans about how embarrassed he is ‘I made a total fool of myself...I can’t believe it’
He’ll get comfortable around them eventually!
Albedo:
Help him
Albedo is not talkative at all. He also rarely shows emotion in his facial expressions so he’ll be sitting at the dinner table...staring...
Once you get him talking about science and his job, he’ll actually talk for awhile! As long as your family is interested in what he has to say. If not, he’ll kinda just drift off and stop talking, turning to look at you expectantly
He’s polite of course! He eats everything he’s given no matter what, he lets out soft, breathy chuckles when your family tells jokes, he’s active in the conversation but he just doesn’t talk much
‘Albedo, we heard you like to paint’ ‘Yes, that’s right’ ‘Whats your favorite thing to paint?’ ‘I tend to paint temporary scenes. Something I could only capture on my canvas once so I can preserve that moment in time forever’ ...Alrighty then
When the night is over and the two of you are heading home, he’ll turn to you and smile ‘I think that went very well’ pfftt-
Venti:
Watch out. He is a menace. The second he steps into your childhood home, he’ll want to see every embarrassing photo of you and hear every cute story about you as a kid
Why? For blackmail purposes of course!
He’ll eat anything your parents give him to eat and he’ll tell as many stories/jokes as they want! He’s an entertainer through and through
He keeps a hand on you pretty much all night, either he’s got a hand on your back or your fingers are intertwined. If you hadn’t felt his hand, you never would have known he was nervous at all but now you can feel how sweaty his hand is
Venti’s a performer! But meeting your parents is a scary thing to him, he doesn’t want them to hate him!! Venti has no relatives or family of his own so when he marries you (he sure as hell intends to!) this will be his family too! He can’t mess this up! So while he seems collected on the outside, he’s freaking out inside
‘Baaaaabe! Do you think I overdid it with the jokes??’ ‘Venti, I told you! They thought you were funny!’ ‘Or were they just laughing to make me feel better?’ ‘You’re overthinking this, honey...’
Baizhu:
If your parents are the ‘you better marry a doctor’ type, this man is for you
He’s super polite, he’ll bring a small gift over when he comes for dinner and he’ll totally shower your mom in compliments ‘You look even more lovely in person! I’ve seen countless photos of you as a family, you all look so kind and welcoming’
Baizhu is GREAT at keeping up conversation and being interesting! He’ll talk about medical stuff and the (nonsketchy) business side of owning a pharmacy/being a doctor
Because of his illness, he can’t eat large portions all at once or he’ll get severely nauseous so he’ll look like he’s just pushing food around on his plate... cause is is. Hopefully you’ll brief your parents on that before he comes over! He doesn’t want them to think he’s rude :( though it took a lot of convincing for him to even tell YOU about his illness, he surely won’t explain himself to your parents :/
If your parents and/or siblings need to be checked out for something he’ll happily do it lmao ‘Hey Baizhu? Could you look at this spot on my arm? Is this something bad?’ ‘Dad!! Stop it!’ ‘No worries at all dear, I’m a doctor, it’s my job to look at stuff like this! Here, sir, let me see’ now he’s just showing off a little bit :)
He’ll make a fantastic first impression on them for sure! He won’t even be nervous since he constantly works with people anyway so he isn’t afraid of a little socializing :) however he can come across as cocky sometimes so that’s something to watch out for 0-0
807 notes · View notes
husbandohunter · 3 years
Note
May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty
By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact
Tumblr media
Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.
(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)
(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.
============================
Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.
The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.
While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.
And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?
"Hey babe, I'm home~"
In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...
"That's great."
He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.
Huh?
All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.
"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."
It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.
"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"
"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."
His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"
Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."
Today was not his day.
Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.
"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.
The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....
Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.
Not even the dishes were washed.
Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."
Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.
"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."
"I'm busy."
Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.
Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."
Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"
"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."
You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."
"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."
"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."
Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."
It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.
"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"
Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.
"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"
Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.
"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."
Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.
I should probably visit more often.
Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.
"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."
He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.
"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."
"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."
You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.
"Cheater," you mumbled.
He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."
Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"
You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.
Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.
The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."
Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.
If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?
Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.
Maybe one day.
He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.
One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.
Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.
381 notes · View notes
the-witty-pen-name · 3 years
Text
Deadbeat Pt. 1
Lee Bodecker x F!Reader
18+ ONLY
Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink? 
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. 
A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.
There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!
I hope you all enjoy!
Tags and Requests are OPEN
Tumblr media
“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.” 
“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff. 
“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron. 
“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head. 
“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out. 
You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man. 
“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything. 
“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk. 
“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.” 
“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you. 
“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.” 
“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.” 
“Maybe y’all can work through this-“ 
“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’ 
“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it. 
“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.” 
“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?” 
“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded. 
“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?” 
“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.” 
Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes. 
“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.” 
“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better. 
“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.” 
“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses. 
“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.” 
“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“ 
“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.” 
“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire. 
“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.” 
“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle. 
“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out. 
“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register. 
While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him. 
“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance. 
“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?” 
“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly. 
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”
“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat. 
He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here. 
The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place. 
He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.  
As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house. 
Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen. 
“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in. 
You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.
“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”
“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.
You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.
You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.
“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.
“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”
“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.
“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.
“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.
“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.
“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”
“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.
“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”
“They just left you?”
“I chose to stay.”
“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.
“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”
“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.
“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.
“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.
“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.
“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.
“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”
“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.
“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.
“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.
He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.
He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.
“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?
He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.
By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.
He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.
You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.
“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.
“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”
“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”
 “Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.
“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”
You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.
“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”
“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.
“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.
“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”
“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”
“Of course,” he says with a smile.
“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”
“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities. 
The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.
He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.
In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.
He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.
“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?
PART TWO
782 notes · View notes
arrowflier · 3 years
Note
Hi I don't have tumblr, so not sure how this works. Came across your blog though, and spent three days just reading everything you've written and reblogged. Such a fun three days! I have so many ideas for prompts, but the one I'm most curious about is what happens when Ian has a rough patch of mania maybe a couple years into their marriage and what kind of plans do Mickey and Ian have for either an upswing or a downswing of his bipolar? Thanks so much excited to see what you come up with!
Hi there! It's such a compliment that you went through my rambles, glad you're enjoying.💖 Standard disclaimer: everything I know about bipolar disorder comes from the internet. It's an important part of Ian that I want to be respectful of, so as always please let me know if I miss the mark.
Caring for your partner, Rule 1: Be There
When Mickey woke up, Ian wasn’t in bed.
That wasn’t terribly unusual in and of itself. What was unusual was that it was only 3AM, on a Saturday, and Mickey could already hear his husband moving outside their room. The footsteps outside the door were soft, restrained, like Ian didn’t want to wake him. But the following clatter in the kitchen was alarmingly loud as Ian opened the drawer under the oven to pull out a pan, and Mickey groaned.
He wanted to roll over, pull a pillow over his head, and block out whatever this was so he could go back to sleep. They’d been working long days, and sometimes longer nights as the dispensaries were all pulling overtime with increasing demand. They’d only made it to bed like two hours ago, for fuck’s sake, and Mickey was tired.
But Ian should have been tired too, and it was never a good sign when he wasn’t. So Mickey sat up with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, and swung his legs out of bed.
He winced when his bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. They had been here for almost a year already, and they still hadn’t gotten ‘round to buying a fucking rug for the bedroom.
Mickey shivered as he hopped awkwardly toward the closed bedroom door, grabbing his robe from a hook there and tugging it on over his thin shirt and the boxers he was pretty sure started out on Ian’s side of the dresser. Wrapping it closed, he slipped out the door and into the brightly lit hallway, squinting blearily as he followed the sound of pots and pans to the kitchen.
Ian had half their crockery out on the counter already. His red hair gleamed under the sharp light of the long fluorescent bulbs overhead as he stirred batter in a large bowl they had borrowed from Debbie last week and never given back, wooden spoon clanking against the sides erratically.
Erratically. That was a good word for it, Mickey thought. The mindless clink clink clink of wood on metal in no discernible pattern, just like the route Ian took around their table, to the counter, to the fridge, and back to the oven again. Mindless, pacing, random.
Mickey leaned against the wall, and watched.
They had talked about this, since the last time. At least, since the last time Mickey had been worried. When Ian was down, when he didn’t want to get up. When Mickey dragged him out on his first run and they talked afterward in the kitchen, when Mickey made clear that his worry was just one more face of what they had together.
He’d come down the next morning to Ian at the kitchen table, the whole place eerily quiet for a place they still shared with too many fucking people. There had been coffee in the pot, toast on the table, and Ian, picking at his cuticles and not meeting Mickey’s eyes.
“We need to talk,” he’d said, and Mickey’s heart had dropped into his stomach.
“Can I wake the fuck up first?” he’d asked, but Ian had just kicked a chair out for him and waited, not meeting his eyes, until Mickey sat down.
They’d sat silently for a long moment, Mickey unwilling to ask what it was about. Finally, Ian had sighed, and reached out for Mickey’s hand across the table.
“It’s about the bipolar,” he’d said, and Mickey had been so relieved he could feel it in his fucking toes, bare and cold against the tile floor.
“Oh. Okay.”
Ian had been startled by his easy acceptance of the topic, he could tell.
“That’s it?” He’d sounded almost confused.
Mickey had shrugged.
“I mean, yeah?” He’d rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes with the hand no holding Ian’s. “You had me worried, man, with the we need to talk thing. But this is just normal shit.”
Ian had just stared at him, then released his hand to lean back against his chair.
“Normal?” He’d asked disbelievingly. “There’s nothing normal about planning for my imminent mental break, Mickey.
Mickey had snorted at the irony of it. “You kidding me?” he’d said. “It’s the most normal fucking thing about us.”
As he watched Ian in the kitchen now, making pancakes at 3AM on a Saturday morning, Mickey thought that was probably still true.
“Hey, Martha Stewart,” he said softly from his position against the wall, still leaning there as Ian spun around with surprise painted over his face. His eyes were off, the light not quite there, but they still warmed when he saw Mickey.
“Hey,” Ian said back, voice high and too chipper. “I’m making pancakes, you want some? I’ve got banana, your favorite, and chocolate chips, and strawberries…”
He went on to list more ingredients, but Mickey wasn’t really listening. He could see it all anyway, spread out over the kitchen like so many half-made decisions, half-baked ideas that kept giving way to something else.
“Mickey?” Ian asked, and he snapped out of it.
“Yeah,” he answered with a smile. “Yeah, I’d love some pancakes. Why don’t you let me stir for a awhile?”
They had their pancakes standing up next to the counter, nowhere left to rest their plates on the crowded surfaces of the kitchen. Ian talked about the merits of each ingredient as they ate, and Mickey listened, and nodded along as best he could.
This was okay. It was pancakes in their boxers at 3AM with no sleep in a kitchen that looked like it was hit by a tornado, but Ian was eating, and Ian was smiling, and Ian was there.
And when Ian stopped and tried to set his plate down, distress on his face as he was confronted with the mess he had made, Mickey took the dish from him with easy hands.
“You want to sit down awhile?” he tried, nudging Ian gently out of the disaster-zone. “Bet you’re tired after eating all that.”
He knew Ian wasn’t, but he kept a hand on his back anyway until they were out in the living room, next to the sofa. Mickey let go to sit down himself with a groan, tired muscles aching at being used for too long without rest. He kept his eyes off Ian, just standing there, looking at him in that too-present, too-absent way of his, and leaned back against the cushions, eyes falling closed.
After a moment, the sofa dipped as Ian settled in beside him.
“Mickey?” Ian asked. The cushions bounced as he tapped his heel repeatedly on the floor.
“Yeah?” Mickey responded, squinting his eyes back open.
“Can I touch you?”
Mickey repressed the urge to sit up, to take Ian into his arms. Ian sounded too hesitant, a shift from moments before as he playfully shoved bites of overcooked batter into Mickey’s mouth.
But Ian didn’t like to be held like this.
“Of course you can, you moron,” Mickey said instead, and watched as Ian’s leg stopped moving. The other man drew closer, reaching a hand out to card through Mickey’s hair and drag down the side of his face, a touch too shaky and a touch too firm.
Ian had once said that touching Mickey grounded him, and Mickey hadn’t known if Ian thought that was a good thing or not. In the midst of hypomania, Ian didn’t always take kindly to being grounded.
But tonight—well, this morning—it seemed to be a good thing. Mickey was grateful for that.
Grateful, because it meant that Ian looked like himself as he moved to lay against him, and not like some over-saturated facsimile painted with too much water on the canvas, always shifting, always running. Grateful, because it meant that Ian pulled Mickey’s arms around him and settled into his side like they always did, even if his body never quite stilled at the contact.
Grateful, because it meant they wouldn’t fight tonight. That Mickey wouldn’t have to worry as much about what Ian might say, might do, if he stepped out of line. If he went off the script they had planned on a good day for dealing with bad ones to come.
He wouldn’t have to call Lip for backup. He wouldn’t have to tail Ian as he left the apartment to make sure he stayed safe. He wouldn’t have hide the knives, or their wallets, or anything else.
Not that he would have complained if he did. It was what it was. Ian was who he was. And Mickey would always see him through it. Love him through it.
They lay there, mostly quiet, except for the mindless tune Ian hummed against his neck, and the tap tap tap of his fingers on Mickey’s collarbone.
Eventually, the song cut off.
“Do I need to call the doctor?” Ian asked quietly into the echoing room, and Mickey nodded, rubbing a gentle hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think so.”
He'd get everything together in the morning. Ian's journals, their schedule, their meal plan. The little notebook where he kept track of Ian's prescriptions, how they worked, how long they lasted.
Something had obviously slipped, either in their methods or in Ian himself. But Mickey was well past dwelling on what they could have done differently, and focused on what to do next.
Things happened. Things changed. They would adapt.
At Mickey's confirmation, Ian just nodded against him, fidgeting until their legs were too entwined to separate.
“Sleep first, if you can,” Mickey told him, settling in for a long rest of the night. “We’ll do it together when you wake up.”
Together. They’d do it together. Again and again and again, as much as they needed to. Because Ian was his husband, and this was their normal.
And their normal was still pretty damn good.
233 notes · View notes
puppypeter · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
✨ All fics are complete! ✨
He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱
He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.
Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?
“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”
OR
the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.
Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳
Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.
Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.
The rest is, as they say, history.
You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳
“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”
Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯
He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.
Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.
Taxi | 5113 words 🚕
Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.
He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.
Enough said.
Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️
“So talk to him,” Sam says.
“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”
“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."
(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)
Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️
When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…
Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻
“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.
"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."
“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”
“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”
Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️
After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.
The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.
He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.
Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.
Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.
Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄
Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.
At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.
The Settler | 52203 words 🍞
“What do you want to do?”
Steve pauses and looks at them.
What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.
He doesn't want to leave that.
But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.
So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”
OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.
You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈
"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."
He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.
To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾
Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.
Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️
Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.
-----
Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.
“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.
Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️
Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?
-----
Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.
Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️
Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.
-----
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.
“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.
Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.
Sadly, they’re closer than they think.
The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Steve Rogers is fine.
After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.
From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.
The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕
"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."
After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.
One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.
Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒
You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.
But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.
Obvious | 917 words ☕
"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."
380 notes · View notes
wardenannie · 3 years
Text
Just friends
In the beginning they aren’t friends at all. Not even remotely. 
Hange is too excitable for Levi, and Levin too severe for Hange. Though the scientist attempts to feign cordiality between the two of them, Levi does nothing to conceal his disdain. It is only after Erwin calls them into his office and speaks to them sternly that they finally come to a silent agreement with one another. 
Just friends begins with a sort of truce. An understanding between them that perhaps they aren't so different, or they are, but they can learn to overcome those differences for the sake of synergy in the field.
That is what Erwin wants, after all. 
They still poke fun, but it's more lighthearted than it was before. More playful. There is a gentleness to it, a light. It brings some levity to those brutal, bloody days that linger in the backs of their minds. They actually begin to take some small comfort in each other’s presence, though neither of them are willing to admit it allowed, and most certainly not to each other. 
When just friends becomes staying up and drinking tea and whisky into the budding hours of dawn, neither of them can say. But more than once they are the only two left standing among a field of drunken allies.
They look at one another, and even Levi, dead sober, sipping his tea, cannot help but smirk.
When Hange passes out in his lap he reluctantly allows the contact, that is until they drool on him, at which point he surreptitiously slips a pillow beneath their cheek. 
He pretends not to watch them sleep, only for a moment.  
He doesn’t find their peaceful expression enchanting. He doesn’t secretly find them handsome with their russet hair covering their eyes, mingling with their lashes. He pushes it out of their face anyways. 
They’re just friends.
Just friends becomes casual touches. Passing smiles (or affectionate scowls in Levi’s case). It becomes easy nights spent in silent company. Nights spent in Hange’s lab, or lounging in the library. It becomes silent understanding, a fleeting consciousness of what the other is about to say or do. 
Just friends becomes a sort of casual, platonic intimacy that has their comrades whispering and casting them knowing glances. But they simply ignore it. They are just friends after all. 
When just friends begins to entail tending one another's wounds is about two years after their first meeting. Hange limps to his quarters, calf a bloody tattered mess from a nasty three-meter bite.
"I can't go to the infirmary," they explain. “If Erwin finds out about this he’ll bench me.” 
He scolds them as he treats the wound with iodine and wraps it in clean gauze. 
“You need to be more careful, four-eyes. It could have taken your leg clean off,” he tries to disguise the way his hands shake as he cleans each of the shallow gouges which hug Hange’s calf in a gory half moon. 
They hiss and wince as dirt and debris are washed away, leaving only ragged flesh which will surely scar. 
Levi pretends that their obvious discomfort doesn’t perturb him, but it does. Another new development. He cares for them, loathe as he is to admit it. 
Just friends becomes sharing a bed with surprising swiftness after that. 
It is after a particularly gory expedition beyond Wall Maria. Many of their comrades fall, never to rise again. The blood runs in rivers over the fallow earth, bones crunch between massive, inhuman teeth. And the screams. The screams bite into both of them; leaching into their very cores and clinging there like poison; breeding doubt, fear. 
The knock comes on Levi’s door well past midnight. That he is still awake is a coincidence he cares not to consider too closely.  
He knows its Hange without asking. Who else would be so bold as to disturb Captain Ackerman’s beauty sleep? 
“Come in?” He’s reading a book by candlelight and doesn’t so much as glance up as Hange Zoe enters the room, shutting the door carefully behind themself. 
“Levi...” 
He glances over the top of his book; stare cool but not unkind, “Why are you bothering me so late at night, shitty-glasses? You should be asleep.” 
Hange lingers at the threshold, clad in loose sleep clothing. Levi pretends he can’t see their nipples poking through the gauzy fabric of their shirt, “I could say the same about you.” 
A long, pained silence passes between the two of them. A quiet sort of understanding. 
Slowly, Levi lowers his book into his lap. Then he peels back the covers, scooting over and making room for Hange beside him. 
“Bad dreams?” He asks, already knowing the answer he will receive.
Hange crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, they rest their elbows on their knees, steepling their fingers in front of their face, “Yeah. You?”
Levi swallows thickly and nods. 
“Can I...” Hange turns their face away, glancing out the window in a paltry attempt to disguise their flush, “Can I stay here tonight?” 
Levi doesn’t so much as hesitate, “Yes.” 
Tentatively, Hange lowers themself into the mattress, stealing away one of Levi’s pillows. They don’t touch. They don’t speak a word once Hange has settled in beside Levi. The captain simply reaches over his comrade and snuffs out the candle, cloaking them in darkness. 
And so just friends becomes best friends in a night. 
The territory of best friends is accompanied by a new found respect for one another. A respect that runs deeper than that which had already existed between them. Occasionally Levi will glance up at Hange to find that their eyes are already on him. Usually they are smiling. But on rare occasions their expression is more contemplative; thoughtful and distant. 
Levi tries not to think about it too deeply. What it could mean. What they could be thinking while they stare at him with such intensity. 
Then the meaning of just friends who happen to be best friends shifts again during a hard fought battle beyond the suffocating succor of the Walls. 
Levi jerks awake, head throbbing, mouth dry and tasting of blood. The world around him is blurry at first, and he struggles to recall where he is until it slowly comes into focus. 
There are arms around him, supporting his aching head and clutching at his hand. A voice calls out to him, low and panicked. 
“Levi? Oh thank fuck, Levi,” it’s Hange. Levi can’t quite remember where he is, but he could place Hange’s voice anywhere. Slowly, they come into focus over him. Their head is ringed with sunlight that shines from behind them, creating the illusion of a halo around them as they look down on him. 
It strikes him how perfect they are. Gorgeous. Handsome. Hawkish nose and wide, bright eyes, olive skin and russet hair. Imperfectly perfect. 
Their wine-colored eyes shine with worry. They touch his face, tenderly, “Can you speak?” 
“Yeah,” Levi rasps, and it finally comes back to him. A titan had emerged as if from nowhere and swept him out of the sky, knocking him head first into the cold, hard ground. Hange saved his life, felling the thing at the last moment before it took the Captain into its jaws. 
For a moment it is enough to stun him. But isn’t that what best friends do for one another? 
It is that night in Levi’s tent that they go from being just friends who are also best friends, to best friends who kiss in the dark. 
Hange refuses to be parted from him. Insisting that he needs supervision due to his possible concussion. Levi doesn’t argue as they help him to his sleeping bag. Outside the stars hold their silent, glittering vigil, and the moon hangs low and radiant in the sky, bleeding through the canvas of the tent just enough to allow for some visibility. 
“Try to stay awake,” Hange says softly, sitting beside him. They touch his forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes. Their touch lingers, and Levi cannot help but notice the way their eyes seem to glimmer in the dark. 
When they lean forward and press their lips to his it is chaste, delicate and fleeting. But when they try to pull away he cups the back of their neck and tugs them back to him, sitting up slightly so he can kiss them from an improved angle. 
“Just friends,” he rasps between hurried kisses. Hange occupies all of his senses, from their earthy scent to the sharp taste of them on his tongue. He loves it. He would gladly drown himself in Hange Zoe. 
Hange nods, curling into his side, kissing him again, “Just friends blowing off steam.” 
Just friends, best friends, best friends who kiss in the dark; they carry on that way for months. Stealing kisses in those quiet moments between meetings and missions. 
It isn’t long before hands begin to roam. Curious fingers searching over one another’s bodies as they chase each other’s tongues over eager, sliding lips. But they hold back. They resist that primordial drive for sex with everything they have. Because how can they be just friends if they’re having sex? How could they cross that line without jeopardizing everything they have built with one another? 
But the others know. Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, even Erwin... they all know. The teasing glances have turned to those of legitimate concern, the passing comments have turned into genuine appeals for common sense. And so they are met with the second reason to remain just friends, best friends, friends who kiss in the dark; the life of a soldier is not one which can accommodate love. Real unconditional love. Duty will always take precedent. 
Then comes the night where kissing in the dark is not longer enough. 
It was never really enough, but things finally reach a boiling point. 
Hange is in their lab, working well past midnight when Levi stumbles in. He is clad in nothing but a pair of loose fitting sleep pants, slate eyes wild. He is flushed, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 
A nightmare. He’s had a nightmare. Hange bleeding in his arms. Dying. Not from a wound inflicted by a titan but from a series of bullet holes bored into their middle. Weeping blood, crimson welling over his fingers despite the pressure he applied. 
The image clings to the backs of his eyes, boring its way into his soul, his heart, his mind and consciousness. Hange; killed by another human, not a titan, but a man. Suddenly nowhere feels safe or sacred. He wants to take Hange into his arms and flee. Flee until the world cannot catch them. 
Kisses in the dark could never fix this. It feels like nothing could fix this. 
“Levi?” Hange turns away from their work, a collection of bubbling beakers resting on the wooden countertop. Their expression is one of concern as he crosses the room and pulls them roughly into his arms. 
“I can’t fucking do this anymore,” He snarls, and then he kisses them roughly, pushing the small of their back into the hard edge of the counter. The beakers rattle and several spill over with the force of his body against theirs. 
Hange moans into his mouth, melting into him, arms winding around the back of his neck as he helps them up and onto the counter. They shift backward, experiment forgotten, and suddenly they are anything but just friends. 
Levi buries himself in Hange with little foreplay or preamble, but they are already wet and pliant, ready for him. 
The sex is fast and desperate. Hange buries their face against Levi’s neck, feeling the erratic pace of his pulse as he delves into them. 
“I love you,” they whimper. Because they do. With everything they have they love their Captain. Levi Ackerman. Humanity’s strongest. Theirs.
Levi fucks them harder for it. Because it can’t be. They’re just friends. Best friends. Friends who kiss in the dark and make frantic love at the thought of losing one another. Just friends.
Just friends. 
Just friends. 
Levi comes inside of Hange with a broken sob. Their fingers are in his hair, lips on his as they follow him over the edge. They’re crying, too. Tears mingle between their mouths as they work one another up again. 
They dress, but only long enough to reach Levi’s quarters, at which point they peel away their clothing and fall into bed together. All of it is wordless, silent knowing passes between them. Each anticipates the other’s movements and react with according passion. 
They make love again. Slower, softer. Hange’s soft cries fill up the room, punctuated by Levi’s muffled grunts as he buries his own noises in their damp skin. 
“This is perfect,” Hange whispers, nails raking down Levi’s switching back. And then they say it again, “I love you.” 
Wetness floods between them as Hange comes first. Levi rocks them through it, body wracked with pleasure, mind wracked with confusion, fear of what will happen come sunrise, when this new, precious thing between them has been exposed to the light of day. 
But is it really so new? Has he not always loved Hange Zoe? Have they not occupied his every waking thought for years as he refused to acknowledge his own attractions?
He looks down as he fucks into them, finds their wine-colored gaze is locked on his face. They reach up and cup his cheek, soft moans slipping past their lips as his hips stutter and he finishes inside of them for the second time that night. 
“Hange,” The way he speaks their name is ragged, like a desperate prayer on his lips. He kisses them. He never wants to stop kissing them. 
“I love you,” Hange breathes between kisses. They roll onto their sides, their faces illuminated by a shaft of silvery moonlight through the window. “You don’t have to say it back but I can’t be just friends anymore, Levi. It’s driving me crazy.” 
They kiss him, “Seeing you.”
Again, “Touching you.” 
A third time, slower, wet, lingering, “But not being with you.” 
Levi’s hands are on their hips, caressing up their sides. He feels the goosebumps he leaves in his wake, and knows he shares a similar physiological reaction to Hange’s own touch. 
But they’re just friends. Just friends, best friends, friends who kiss in the dark, friends who make desperate love and whisper heartfelt confessions under cover of night. Just friends. 
Hange touches his cheek, “Say something, please, Levi.” 
His lips part, but he struggles to find the words to express his emotions. Nothing makes sense in that moment. The world has tilted on its axis, everything is changed, and yet nothing is. 
“We were never just friends, shitty-glasses,” he says, finally. His eyes are glassy, gaze turned up to peer out the window at the night sky. The stars show their brilliant faces, glittering, and Levi wonders if perhaps their fate is written somewhere in that serene darkness. 
“We’ll keep it a secret for as long as we can,” Hange reassures him, settling there head against his chest, where they can hear his heart beating steady and strong. They run their fingers over his sternum, between his pecs and down the expanse of his abdomen, toying with the trail of downy hairs beneath his navel. 
“They already know,” Levi sighed, and he presses his mouth to the crown of Hange’s head. His eyes flutter shut, savoring the earthy sent of his lover. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
You’re all that matters, he tacitly implies. 
“They know that we were never just friends.” He pulls the sheets over their sweat damp bodies. Cum stains the fitted sheet. 
“They don’t approve,” Hange says softly, half asleep, lulled by Levi’s steady breaths.
“I don’t give a shit what they think. We deserve this.” Happiness. Even if it was fleeting. Even if one of them died come dawn, it would have all been worth it; to have been loved, to have known love. 
They drift to sleep in each other’s arms. 
Just friends, who became best friends, which in turn because friends who kiss in the dark, then lovers. Two people in love.
But they are soldiers, and they both know that whatever time they might have is borrowed. So they treasure it as best they can. 
139 notes · View notes
I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel
Tumblr media
Summary: Spencer is not that kind of doctor, but he'll always come when Y/N needs him, even if germs are involved.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader
Warnings: One cuss (sh!t), kisses, small insecurities
Word Count: 2.5 k (was not supposed to be this long but I'm a monster)
Author's Note: From this list (3, 12, 14) since I hit 300 followers! Thank you! This request is from @willowrose99 (look for the bold)
I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel
Spencer’s half done with his third book that weekend when his phone rang. A weekend spent in the company of Nietzsche and Sartre is, according to Spencer at least, a weekend well spent. He can feel the relaxation that settles in his bones come crashing down as he phone rings.
Thinking it’s Hotch calling the team in for an unexpected case, Spencer, lethargically, walks over to answer the phone. However, realizing the caller is not his boss pulling him away from a restful weekend, but Y/N, his heart rushes with a sudden urge of excitement.
“Y/N,” Spencer starts. He’s more than happy to have Y/N interrupt his weekend; they even made plans for a day out on Saturday at the new Anthropology museum that opened downtown. But all of Spencer’s made up plans fall in front of his face, as he hears Y/N’s quiet sniffles.
“Spencer, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know that you’re probably enjoying your rest, but I guess I have a cold. One of the kids at school, I suppose,” Y/N tells him in between sniffles. Her voice is scratchy and Spencer tries not to think about how his brain seems to short circuit at the way his name sounds.
“I’m coming over,” Spencer says, cutting her off. He doesn’t like doing that, in fact he hates when that happens to him, but right now he knows that Y/N is going to try her hardest to stop him from coming over.
“No Spence, it’s germs. You hate germs and I’m really gross and snotty and—”
“Stop, Y/N. Don’t say another word. I’m on my way” Spencer says. He feels a little guilty for hanging up on her, but he knows that if he stayed on the line any longer she’d end up convincing him that he didn’t need to rush over. There’s not a lot of people in this world that can convince Spencer to change his mind, and he’s pretty sure that Y/N is one of them.
Spencer walks into his bedroom, looking for some supplies like a man on a mission. He decides to pack a small bag for the next three days. He’s off from work anyway, why not spend that time making sure Y/N gets better. Spencer packs away a couple of sweaters, flannel pajama pants and two thermal shirts. In the back of his drawer he spots a very old college tee shirt.
A memory, an early memory with Y/N, comes flooding to the surface. They got caught in a rainstorm after a picnic in the nearby park. Spencer changed into his comfortable tee shirt and pajamas. He would never forget the look on Y/N’s face; the way the rain collected on her glasses and for some reason she had yet to wipe them off. She called him an angel. Maybe it’s for bringing her some warm clothes or maybe she’s slightly on edge from their dash into Spencer’s apartment. Whatever it was that made her call him an angel, Spencer never wanted her to call him anything else. Besides his own name, in that scratchy sick voice that made him feel a little guilty for liking so much.
Spencer collects some other things he needs for his stay. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, and his hair serum that Y/N says she likes the way it smells. When she told him that, Spencer could hardly wait to buy the entire supply from the CVS down the street. He tucks away in this bag with a small smile.
Walking out of his apartment, Spencer locks up and makes his way down to his car. He glances at his watch, realizing that it only took him a couple of minutes to get ready for Y/N. Quicker than what it takes for him to get ready for an emergency case. Then again, tending to a sick Y/N seems much pleasurable then looking at served bodies and mangled limbs.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After making a pit stop at a small convenience store near Y/N’s apartment, Spencer pulls into the guest parking spot near her complex. He attempts to shoulder the weight of his go bag; even though he only packed a couple philosophy books, they are quite dense. In his hands, he grasps the grocery bags.
Y/N’s apartment, thankfully, is on the first floor. Spencer approaches the door and thinks twice about knocking or ringing the doorbell. The last thing he wants to do is wake a sick Y/N up. He rummages in his pants for his car keys. Attached to the keys is a cat keychain with a spare key to Y/N’s apartment. Balancing the groceries and his own bag, Spencer quietly attempts to open Y/N’s door without possibly waking her up.
Once he finally gets the door open, Spencer realizes all too late that a large orange cat guards the tight hallway entrance. Spencer Reid, though a genius in his own right, is completely aware of the fact that he has two left feet.
“Oh, Zelda! Oh shit!,” Spencer yells as he trips over Zelda, Y/N’s orange cat. Zelda, scared from the noise, leaps from her spot guarding the hallway to the kitchen. Spencer brushes himself from his fall and picks up the groceries that fell during his tumble.
“Zelda, baby?” Y/N calls from what sounds like the couch from the other side of the wall.
“Hi Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just Spencer,” He says, placing the oranges back in his canvas bag and on the kitchen table. He sees Y/N laying on the couch. Surrounded by a pile of crumpled tissues, she smiles weakly at Spencer. He walks over to her and like an involuntary muscle, she scoots her feet so Spencer has room to sit.
Spencer, setting the beg on the floor, tucks Y/N’s legs over his. He rests a comforting hand on her calf that’s covered by a worn quilt.
“You didn’t have to come Spencer. I’m really okay, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t ghosting you this weekend,” Y/N explains. The TV has been left on, but on mute. The colorful lights illuminate Y/N’s face in her dimly lit apartment.
“Nonsense, Y/N. What are friends for,” Spencer offers, wondering beyond belief if he messed up calling them friends. Their relationship had been quite strange for the past couple of weeks. Intense moments of silence where Spencer thinks he’d have the time to memorize every freckle on her nose or small grazes from fingers to wrists where Spencer swears she left scars that he hope would never heal.
“Friends,” Y/N says quietly. Spencer, offering a tight lipped smile, leans forward to straighten the blankets under Y/N’s chin. He presses the back of his hand towards Y/N’s forehead, feeling her warm skin under his knuckles. He’s not sure if the heat he feels is from her bug or from the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being this close to Y/N.
“You’re hot,” Spencer says, not moving his hand from Y/N’s forehead. She, loving the way his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed, uncovers her arm from under the blankets and holds onto his wrist, keeping him attached to her forehead. Not that he’d want it any other way.
“So are you,” Y/N says. Spencer flinches and moves his hand from her forehead like she scorched his hand. In reality, her comment pierced his heart with hope.
“How much cough syrup did you take?” Spencer asks, choosing to face the situation with humor. There’s no way in the world Y/N could ever find him “hot” without the aid of cough syrup or another mind numbing substance.
“None,” Y/N says, reaching around to turn off the television. Spencer, getting increasingly nervous as the minutes of that intense silence passed, mentions to Y/N that he needs to put the groceries away.
“You really didn’t need to do that, Spence. I feel bad enough that you came here just to get sick yourself,” Y/N says. She’s folding the blankets that she was just resting under.
“I’ll always come when you need me to, Y/N” Spencer says, his breath catching and his eyes latching onto Y/N. He looks at her too long and there’s that intense silence again. Silence that is as thick as fog. Spencer can’t see facts through all the love that swallows him whole looking at Y/N.
“Maybe I knew that, and maybe that’s why I called you,” Y/N murmurs quietly, almost like she’s more scared to admit it to herself than to Spencer.
“Maybe,” Spencer says, breaking her gaze to put the half melted tub of green tea ice cream in the freezer.
“I think I’m going to shower, I need to put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I’ll be right out,” Y/N tells him, turning on her heel and leaving Spencer along with his thoughts.
Spencer can hear the water from the shower turn on. He estimates that Y/N will take at least 5 minutes in the shower, accounting for a margin of error, he supposes that he should start to heat the soup he bought from the store now, so it’s ready for Y/N when she’s done in the shower. Too bad all Spencer’s brain power is good for his statistics and numbers, not recipes and romance.
As it turns out, not a single statistic, nor a single digit could account for the possibility of Y/N walking out her bedroom, her hair damp and skin practically glowing, wearing Spencer’s worn college tee shirt. Spencer reckons that his eyes must have been bugging out from his head, given the spirited smile Y/N wears.
“I’m sorry, Spence, you know how much I love this tee shirt. I was putting some of your stuff away in your drawer and I saw this and I just couldn’t help myself. God it even smells a little bit like that hair gunk you wear,” Y/N rambles. She stands, leaning on her door frame, staring at Spencer who holds a wooden spoon that he used to stir the soup.
“You look like an angel,” Spencer says before he can stop himself. He just knows that his face is flaming red.
“You remember that?” Y/N asks, her voice light and hopeful. Spencer recognizes something in it. It’s the way his voice sounds when he talks to her, about her, with her. He can only hope that this is the way she always talks to him. He hopes with every fiber of his being that she uses that light and hopeful voice with him and only him.
“Of course Y/N. Then again, even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d still remember every single detail about you,”
“Now you’re making me feel guilty about stealing your shirt. You’re being all sweet and kind with me, it makes me fuzzy in the head,” Y/N confesses. She walks to her kitchen table, slowly closing the gap between her and Spencer.
“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway,” Spencer tells her. Her eyes grow big at his words and she presses her lips together like she’s holding something in. But something in her switches. Something in her grows a little sad and Spencer watches before his eyes as Y/N withdraws into herself.
“You can’t say that stuff to me, Spencer. You can’t say that stuff to me and not expect me to love you more than I already do,” Y/N says, her eyes shut and her lips pinched so tightly that it almost looks painful.
“Y/N,” Spencer starts, unsure what he’s supposed to say. His brain always seems to be playing catch up around Y/N. “Can I say it if I do love you back?”
Y/N eyes flutter open and narrow at Spencer, as if she’s reading him. Her eyes scan for any sign of a joke, of a prank, of Spencer trying to trick her. Maybe he should be upset that Y/N is doubting him, but all Spencer can feel is hatred for the person that made her doubt herself so much to not believe him.
“I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. No one else has made me feel truly me except you, Y/N,” Spencer professes, setting down the wooden spoon on the counter to reach Y/N’s hand.
“I never thought you’d feel the same way, Spence. I love you, God. That feels so good to say,” Y/N says, letting out a strained laugh. Spencer standing up next to her, places his hands on Y/N cheeks, and tries to lean in lower to kiss her, but Y/N’s finger on his lips stops his movement.
“I’m so sorry, I should have asked. I thought that this is-” Spencer stammers, suddenly very concerned that he violated Y/N in some way.
“Shhh, angel. It’s okay. I want you to kiss me. I really do, but I just want you to tell the facts on you getting sick if you kiss me,” Y/N says, not moving her finger from Spencer’s soft lips. He kisses her finger and grasps her hand with his.
“Sorry, I just had to do that,” Spencer smirks, “but to answer your question, unless you have a bad cough, and some of the respiratory mucus has made its way into your saliva, the cold virus will not be transmitted by kissing,”
“That’s good, so please kiss me, Spencer,” Y/N practically begs, eager for Spencer to leave pieces of him all over her. Eager for him to leave physical evidence of the marking he’s already left on her heart.
“You just might have to take care of me next week,” Spencer counters, peppering kisses over her jaw, knowing he’s purposely avoiding her lips.
“Spencer, I’m sick! Don’t tease me, just kiss me,” Y/N whines, and Spencer caves. He leans in slowly, meeting his lips to Y/N’s. It was the kiss that Spencer knew he’d be waiting for. A kiss that seals fate without a return address. A kiss that reminds him that he’s alive. A kiss that says forever and always.
Spencer, resting his chin against Y/N’s head, closes his eyes. The intense silence that existed between them, now is this light and hopeful air.
“Y/N, do you use my hair gunk?” Spencer asks. He can’t help but giggle with her and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He places three kisses on Y/N’s head and gently pushes her hair to the side to kiss down the back of her neck.
“I’m not sure what I love more, the smell of your hair gunk or the man that wears it,”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TAGLIST (Comment to be added or send in an ask)
@shemarmooresfedora
@willowrose99
@calm-and-doctor
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Requests from this posts are being filled since I hit 300 followers, so send in up to 3 numbers!
Tell me what you thought!
368 notes · View notes
mikalara-dracula · 3 years
Text
Rainy days with their s/o
ft. Yuma and Subaru
Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor.
Tumblr media
Yuma:
Well, since he can’t garden that day, he’s quite bored and out of ideas as to what to do.
He’d be kinda grumpy about it, especially if he was planning to plant something new that day.
“Man, out of all days it has to rain today.”
“You say that every time it rains. It’s mother nature’s way of doing things. You can’t change it.”
“Tch! What does she know?!”
He’d eventually get over the fact that he can’t garden and would sit down and watch a little TV with you, however, he’s always judging everything that’s on.
For example, if a movie or show is on and he doesn’t really like it, he’ll criticize the characters he finds stupid.
“That guy’s an idiot. That’s not how you get a girl.”
“Oh, and I suppose you know?”
“How do you think I got you, little pig.” He’d grin, making you hit him playfully.
On days like this, he tends to get clingy because he has nothing else to do.
Basically, without his garden he’s lost on what to do and will constantly tease and bother you throughout the day.
For example, since it’s rainy outside, you figured you’d make yourself a nice hot chocolate since it corresponded well with the weather.
However, as you were drinking it in the kitchen, he came in and decided to bother you about what you were doing.
“What are you drinking, little pig?”
“A hot chocolate.” You’d smile.
“Oh good, maybe you’ll gain a little and it’ll go where I want it most.” He’d grin while reaching behind to clutch your ass xDD.
“Yuma! Is that all you care about?!”
“Hey, this little pig’s ass belongs to me, so I get to decide how big I want it.”
If you two are cuddling on the couch, he absolutely refuses to let you go. He literally treats you as if you’re his body pillow.
“Yuma, let me go.”
“Fight your way out of it, little pig.” He’d grin, finding your struggle funny.
Since there isn’t much to do on days like this, he might allow you to style his hair any way you want and might even do yours.
Believe it or not, he's an expert at braiding. His favorite style is a fishtail braid and he thinks it looks beautiful on you.
His talent for braiding is so versed that even his brothers might comment as to how pretty it looks on you.
"It looks so . . . nice, Y/N." Azusa would comment.
"Wow little maso-kitty, it looks great on you. Did Yuma do that?" Kou would add.
"As expected, Yuma's known for such styles. You display it well." Ruki would admit.
“Yeah, only the best for my little pig.” Yuma would smirk, a subtle boast in his tone, causing you to blush at his statement.
He likes giving you piggy back rides throughout the house, but he’ll pretend to drop you just to scare you because he’s an asshole.
With all this boredom, Yuma might even get into asking you a few dirty riddles.
"Hey little pig, what's six inches long, goes in your mouth and is more fun if it vibrates?"
"Yuma!"
"Damn, little pig, I didn't know you could be so dirty-minded. I'm just talking about a toothbrush."
"Well it certainly didn't sound that way."
"My god! How could you think such a thing?” He said, acting oh-so innocent, a smirk soon appearing on his face, showing his true colors. “Oh, I get it, you wanted it to be something else."
“What are you-,”
“C’mere, little pig.” He’d say, tackling and pinning you to a nearby couch, starting to tickle you.
"No! Stop!'' You'd squeal, Yuma still continuing to tickle you as you laughed beneath him.
At one point he might grow fed up with the rain and decide to go outside anyways.
"Y’know what, this is stupid. C'mon, little pig. We're not gonna let a little rain tell us what to do." He’d say, taking you by your wrist and dragging you behind him.
"Yuma, wai-,"
He’d continue running and drag you outside in the pouring rain, making you get soaking wet as he picks you up into his arms and spins you around, his lips melding onto yours as he’d hungrily kiss you. He’d soon pull away and put you down, a scowl on your face due to him getting you drenched in mother nature’s tears.
“Yuma! You got me all wet!”
"Damn, I tried to make this romantic and you're complaining about getting wet?"
You’d sigh, “Getting romantic doesn’t mean getting wet!”
“Oh really?” He’d smirk. “Then how come my little pig gets wet every time I-,”
“Shut up!” You’d say, hitting him playfully, causing him to laugh.
Tumblr media
Subaru:
Doesn’t care if it’s rainy or not since he doesn’t really go out.
However, if it’s raining at night time and he wants to go in the rose garden, he might be a little irritated about it.
And since he doesn’t have any hobbies, this is a little hard on him.
Plus, since he’s a tsundere, he'll act pretty annoyed in general, even going down to being a total ass.
Compared to Yuma, he gets clingy in a different way--that is, he secretly hopes that you’ll spend time with him since he can’t go out to the garden.
If you’re busy doing your own stuff tho, he’ll attempt to get involved but will act like he’s disinterested in doing so.
But it’s not like you mind him getting involved--that is, if he’s being genuine.
For example, you were once sitting down at the table working on your homework late at night, finishing up the last thing for your assignment when he walked in and came up behind you.
He placed his head in the crook of your neck, being curious about what you were doing as his gaze traveled to the assignment you were working on.
“What are you doing?”
“Homework.” You’d answer.
“Tch! What a pain.”
“It’s not so bad, I’m almost done.”
“Why don’t you just take a break?”
“Subaru, there’s really no point since I’m close to finishing.” You’d say going back to your work, but of course, the white-haired vampire had to persist.
He lifted up his face from the crook of your neck and took notice of your exposed bra strap. A smirk grew on his face and being the tease that he is, he’d take his fingers and use them to pull on it and have smack against your skin just to annoy you and throw you off guard.
“What the hell?”
“It’s not my fault it was right there, you should hide it better next time.” He’d smirk.
If the atmosphere is quiet and he sees you’re busy but doesn’t want to bother you, he’ll just watch what you’re doing whilst you’re busy working and shuffling around doing your stuff. With watching the way your body moves and the look of concentration on your face, it builds up a lot of sexual tension as he'd stand by with his arms crossed in hopes that something intimate happens or is initiated.
Oh the things this bby car imagines xDD.
He’ll also try to get involved in other things you’d be doing as well, such as crafts.
After finishing your homework, you decided to do something a bit more productive, so you decided to go work on a painting you had been working on. You’d get pretty focused and concentrated, that is until Subaru came up behind you and decided to intervene.
“What are you up to now?”
“Painting.”
“Tch! Lame.”
He’d just continue to stand there, his figure still looming over yours. An idea soon hit you. You knew he was bored, so you decided to make painting time a little more fun.
Turning to him, you’d ask, “Hey, why don’t you help.”
“Huh?”
“Help me with the painting.”
“Do I look like Picasso to you?” He’d sarcastically remark.
“Subaru, it doesn’t matter what it looks like in the end. What matters is the fun you have when painting.”
“Tch! That’s stupid.” He’d retort.
“Alright, then. Suit yourself.”
Since he didn’t want to, you turned around and began painting again.
Deep down, Subaru secretly found your offer to be sweet since he really didn’t mind helping and wanted to spend time with you, but because he has a hard time expressing his emotions through his tough exterior, it always came off as if he didn’t care.
The white-haired vampire sighed, feeling torn between the feeling of wanting to do something memorable with you versus him getting caught doing something crafty by one of his brothers, but because you were more important, he decided to help.
“Alright, where do you want me to begin?” He’d say picking up a brush and sitting down next to you.
Taken back by his sudden decision, you’d say. “Oh, um, you can start over here.” You’d say, pointing to a blank space on the canvas. “Just paint it blue for now and then I’ll tell you what to do from there.”
He said nothing and began to do what you asked him, both of you working hard on the masterpiece.
While working, you’d occasionally sneak a few glances at him, seeing how his progress was going.
You honestly had to admit how attractive Subaru looked when he was concentrated on something, the way his eyes angled themselves as they narrowed in on the area he was working on, a few stray locks being in his face, his lips being ajar and lurid in the lighting as he continued to work.
To be honest, you definitely had to ask him to paint more often with you.
He definitely looked busy, an idea striking you again but in a more playful aspect. Since he looked so concentrated, you dipped your finger into the paint and smeared some on his cheek.
“Hey! What the hell?!”
You honestly couldn’t help but laugh, leading him to grin, “Oh, you think that’s funny? Then how about this?”
He’d be quick to dip multiple fingers in the paint and smear it all over your face. Accepting his challenge, you were quick to dip your hand in paint and smear it all over his face as payback, but this was far from over.
This ended up becoming an entire paint war, you and Subaru’s laughter echoing as you chased each other about the room and continued to smear and splatter paint on each other, both of you becoming a colored mess as the walls became vandalized in the process.
“I’m gonna get you, Y/N. You’re gonna look like a rainbow by the time this is over.” He’d grin, his hand fully loaded with paint being ready to rub it on you.
“Catch me if you can!” You’d tease sticking your tongue out, whilst running away from him.
It was all fun and games however, until Reiji came in and saw the mess, leading him to scold you two.
“What is the meaning of this?”
You both would be quick to blame it on each other as you’d talk over each other in unison, but Reiji didn’t care to hear excuses.
“Please see to it that this is cleaned up, otherwise I’ll have to discipline the two of you thoroughly.” He’d say, quickly taking his leave as you both laughed about what happened, soon cleaning it up together.
On rainy nights, he might show a bit of a soft side.
However, bear in mind that he will be quick to lean back into his tsundere side if he thinks the moment is getting too soft.
Likes to lay in his coffin with you if you both want to relax. He’ll act annoyed the entire time due to him being a tsundere, but secretly, he loves the fact that you’re next to him.
Likes to have you sit in his lap, while you’re reading, having a blanket draped over the both of you, whilst he’d rest his face in the crook of your neck. He honestly loves being so close to you, but he’d never admit it.
Here, he might take the opportunity to either place a soft kiss on your neck or bite your shoulder if he’s feeling thirsty.
He likes to cuddle and lay on top of you, but won't let you leave to do anything else because he's so clingy.
"Subaru, let me go."
"Not a chance."
When he’s not being soft, you two are bound to bicker about the stupidest things--like heights, for example, leading him to become a total mess.
"You're not taller than me, Y/N. We've been over this."
"Oh no?" You’d sass, stepping onto his coffin, being slightly taller than him now. "How about now?"
He scoffed, a grin appearing on his face as he’d playfully grab you and pin you onto a nearby wall, giving you the greediest and lustful kisses as you both kept laughing in unison.
Might let you style his hair, such as putting it up into a ponytail or style it in some other way.
You once put bows in his hair and he was so annoyed by it at first, but he eventually started to find it funny and began laughing with you, but that was all until Laito came in and took a picture of him with his new style.
“Fufu~, love the new look, Subaru. I’ve gotta say it suits you.”
“Why you!” He’d hiss, quickly running after him to make him delete the photo and beat the living crap out of him for doing that and seeing him in such a state.
On rainy nights, be prepared for a lot of fun and games because apart from paint wars, Subaru can take things to a whole new level.
Since it was raining and you couldn’t go anywhere, you decided to try out a new makeup style.
And of course, he’d have to get into your business and tell you he finds it stupid.
"Tch! Why do girls even wear that shit?!"
"Oh shut up, you boys like it. Don't lie.”
“Whatever.” He’d retort, saying nothing else.
You sighed knowing he was bored, so you asked the unthinkable once again to help him cope with not being able to go out because of the rain.
“Do you want help?”
“Help? With what?”
“With this new makeup style.”
“Tch! Seriously?”
“All you have to do is add the eyeshadow and lipstick. I’m not asking you to do anything crazy.”
Sighing and knowing it was better than doing nothing, he’d say, “Fine.”
He’d turn you to him so he could have better access to your face to apply the makeup.
“Just don't make me look like a clown.” You’d warn closing your eyes, allowing Subaru to put on the eyeshadow.
This is when he was struck with a mischievous idea, an infamous smirk twisting on his lips as he applied the makeup to your face.
And after what seemed like quite some time, he finally finished.
“Okay, it’s done.”
You’d sigh, “Finally, I can’t wait to see it. I’m sure it looks amazing.”
“You bet it does.” He’d mutter under his breath, it not being loud enough for you to hear.
Opening your eyes, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and screamed. The makeup looked so bad, maybe worse than a clown.
"Subaru!"
“Ha! What a face!” He’d scoff.
“Ass!” You’d hiss, chasing him around the room as he’d laugh.
Now because you couldn’t let him get away with what he did, as payback you decided to draw a mustache on him while he was sleeping.
When he woke up and saw his reflection in the mirror he grew shocked, and instantly knew it was you who had done it.
(Ik vampires typically can’t see their reflection in a mirror, but I’m not sure about DL here, but let’s just assume that he can considering it hasn’t been mentioned (maybe I’m wrong here??); and also because Reiji implied that some human-made vulnerabilities don’t apply to them, so this might not).
“Y/N!”
“Payback's a bitch isn't it?” You’d giggle, standing a few feet away from him.
“Now, you're gonna get it!” He’d say, chasing you around to no end, only leaving you to laugh as he kept running after you.
146 notes · View notes
driima · 3 years
Text
Elysian
Tumblr media
Title: Elysian
Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: Unprotected sex, mild reference to mind breaking, light cursing, “his toy.”
Note: I have so many drafts that I’m working on and have finally been able to pump this one out xxx. Anyways, expect either some Hawks, Villain Deku, or Shigaraki in the near future
Tumblr media
You were indefinitely his. There was no doubt about it.
You were his plaything, his toy, his little mouse. You were there for him to use and to mess with and to take anything and everything offered to you like a good girl, there to cherish and worship him like he was a saint sent from heaven.
You were there to remind him that he wasn’t that much of a monster, that the scars littering his skin weren’t as bad as he made them out to be. He deserves something like you, a petite little thing to woo him when he returned from his missions, to treat his wounds, to pamper him properly.
And he knew you liked to. The way you almost always obeyed without a beat. The way you’d move in to hug him and hold him when he ordered, the way you’d cradle him against you, ushering those oh so soothing words that you did. You’d touch him, please him in ways that none of his other conquests could, sending his mind into a pleasurable spiral anytime the two of you were intimate.
He loved it. Part of him knew that someone like him wasn’t good for you. A bad boy. A bad villain. Someone who’s done atrocious things. He’d almost feel bad when he’d accept your innocent little requests to make him feel good after a long day, those captivating blue eyes watching you as you’d unzip and tug down his pants, placing a sinful open-mouthed kiss onto his throbbing cock through his boxers.
Yet, he doesn’t care. He can’t afford to care. Not when you lay beneath him, a panting and writhing mess as he marks your skin with blooms of red and blue and purple, painting a colorful canvas on your flesh. The best part is, you let him.
You let him defile you. You let him use you. You let him fuck you. You couldn’t help it, not when his deliciously warm lips were brushing along your skin, sending you into a world of ecstasy. You’d whimper when he’d bite down, marking you, claiming you as his own over and over and over. The thought of stopping him has never once crossed your mind.
Especially not when he has you pinned to his bed, his cock nestled so deep into your sopping cunt, his hips slapping against your ass each time he thrusts.
The position was crude. Face down, back arched, ass up. He gazed down at you with those piercing blue eyes, and even in such a position, he couldn’t help but admire the way your hair looked, knotted in curls, streaks of makeup running down your flushed cheeks. You looked like an angel, he thought to himself. One that he most definitely was going to corrupt.
You whined, your body feeling aflame as you rocked under him each time he drilled back into you. Your mind was hazy, every thought trained on nothing but him. His presence. His body. His touch. Dabi was your sole focus, just the way he liked it.
“Shit,” he cursed lowly, his head tilting back when you squeezed him particularly hard. “You like that? You like it when I plow into you?”
“Yes,” you moaned, your words breathy and strained. “I love it! Hahn! I love— oh!— it, Dabi!”
“Again,” he growled out, loving the way his name sounded on your tongue.
“Dabi! Dabi! Dabi!”
You chanted his name like a mantra, the title spilling from your mouth with every thrust. He grinned from ear to ear, agreeing silently that nothing sounded better than you moaning his name. It made him feel euphoric.
And when he leaned down, his chest pressing against your back, you gasped out his name airily when the position made him go deeper. Your walls clamped down on him, your sensual cries and whines sounding like music to his ears. His pace picked up and he ignored the way his bed creaked and jostled with each one of his movements, too lost in his own pleasure to care.
“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned in your ear, his lips pressing to your shoulder. “You’re close. I can feel it.”
You couldn’t help but nod in response, losing the ability to verbally answer him. He liked you like this. Too incoherent to speak, only able to babble nonsensically. If it were anyone else under him, he would have found it annoying. But with you? The sounds made his heart swell and his blood feel like embers in his veins. It was perfect.
“Cum for me, little mouse,” he breathed out, feeling your body shudder under his. He could sense it, feeling the familiar way your tight little cunt fluttered around his cock.
When you didn’t cum right away, he assumed that you needed one last push to bring you to release. One hand snaked underneath your body, his warm, skillful digits finding your clit almost immediately and he pressed down firmly. The loud cry of bliss you let out gave him a full body shiver.
The knot snapped inside of you when he played with your clit, the action sending you tumbling over the edge as you came around his cock.
It’s too much, he thought to himself. Your choked moans of pleasure, the rapid twitch of your cunt, your warm body under his. He can faintly hear you babbling his name when he screws his eyes shut. All it takes him is a few more thrusts and a harsh curse to release inside of you, his body stilling to press tightly against yours.
His forehead rests on your shoulder, the room filled with the sounds of both of your labored panting as you tried to catch your breath. He lays against you for a few minutes, relishing in the afterglow of your releases. And then he’s moving, slowly, carefully, his softening cock slipping out of you as he eases his weight off of your spent body.
You whine when he leaves you, missing the stuffed feeling. He shushes you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your messy hair.
“Let me clean you up,” is all he says as his weight disappears from the bed, leaving you alone for a moment to succumb to your own thoughts.
You hear him return, your head tilting slightly so you can gaze at him. You watch as he kneels behind you, his calloused hands pushing your legs apart slowly. You can’t help but clench involuntarily when the air of his room fans against your abused cunt, the feeling of his release dribbling out of you making you shiver. You notice the way his gaze lingers, his azure eyes locked on your seed-dripping hole.
Silently, he begins to wipe you free of your mixed liquids, and you find yourself grateful for the warm cloth. It was in these moments that you could admire him the best. His sweat-coated body, his soft gaze, the way he was more gentle with you than he usually was. Dabi was someone that was never big on aftercare, however he always made sure to wipe you down and tidy you up a bit.
His eyes flick to yours after he finishes, sharing a silent exchange of words with him. You know what he wants to ask, but you also know that he doesn’t have it in him to utter such questions, so you opt to lift a weak arm for him. He understands, moving towards you, his gaze flicking across your face.
His brows knit slightly and he grips the wet cloth again, making sure he was using a clean section, before wiping off the streaks of makeup and tears from your face. The action makes you smile and you watch as he loosely flings away the cloth when he was done, settling into your awaiting arms.
You tuck your face into his chest, allowing your exhausted body to relax against his. He pulls the sheets over the both of you, his arms wrapping around you tightly.
There were never any words shared between you two after sex. There were never any “I love you’s.” Just silent cuddling, your bodies pressed together tightly as you dozed off.
After all, you were indefinitely his. You knew he was yours as well. There was no doubt about it.
358 notes · View notes