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reiderwriter · 2 months

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Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out.

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names.

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect.

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well.

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room.

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room.

“I… read, I guess?”

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?”

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you.

Because he definitely was.

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray.

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU.

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier.

“Hey I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word.

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching.

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended.

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower.

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.”

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice.

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all.

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock.

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?”

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion.

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was.

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?”

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand.

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.”

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock.

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention.

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial.

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release.

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for.

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him.

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart.

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes.

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?”

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody.

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment.

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes.

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum.

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy.

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing.

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still.

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough, you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker.

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed.

Until he went to prison.

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking.

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all.

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before.

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was.

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together.

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours.

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore.

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away.

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure.

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack.

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to.

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation.

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger.

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?”

“I…I want you to touch me again.”

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips.

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders.

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette.

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.”

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you.

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.”

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features.

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on.

“Spencer? Look at me, please.”

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him.

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.”

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace.

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on.

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again.

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth.

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss.

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again.

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.”

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.”

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.”

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands.

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him.

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back.

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.”

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously.

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!”

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock.

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?”

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!”

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him.

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me, missed this.”

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions.

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss.

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom.

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt.

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question.

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’

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yandere-wishes · 11 months

Text

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance.

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her?

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that.

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom.

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing.

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe. They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it.

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile.

"What's the old man saying this time?"

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face.

When did you fall in love with him, again?

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless.

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him.

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money.

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be.

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders.

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right.

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero.

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy.

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference?

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now.

Even though you doubt Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders.

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain.

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask.

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek. Sliding from one universe to another.

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home.

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again.

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind.

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror.

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one.

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian.

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth.

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm.

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit.

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside.

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor.

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses.

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul.

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too.

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions.

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms.

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genshin-impacted · 11 months

Text

so close (yet so far)

[Alhaitham x Reader]

You ask Alhaitham to be friends with benefits with you. (The both of you overestimate your ability to not get your feelings involved.)

word count: 11k* (one-shot)

notes: heavily nsfw**, female reader; "you", inexperienced!reader, friends to fwb to lovers, unrequited to mutual pining, modern au (reader and alhaitham went to hs together), some profanity, brief body insecurity on reader's side

*split into three main parts: one part is Alhaitham's POV btw a speed demon possessed me to write this much (im kidding; my friend put brain worms in me)

**oral sex, brief descriptions of face fucking, 69, car sex, dirty talk, face sitting, thigh fucking

Dating apps vary in tone and quality, you find out firsthand. Certain ones call for one-night stands and hook ups and others are prone to less of them (but they will always be there). You don't feel like you can make genuine relationships with people without meeting them first, but you figure you should give it a chance at least before giving up.

You are close to doing so when you show up for a date, and he cancels last minute.

"Ugh, man..." You sigh, putting your phone away after seeing the apologetic text. You won't blame your date: it may as well be a real emergency, but if not, he is not beholden to you to show up, though it would have been nice on his end to let you know earlier.

Still, you are here, and you are hungry, so you step into the cafe in hopes of grabbing fresh pastries when a familiar face catches your eye. You almost don't believe it, considering how many years have passed since you've last seen him. But there is no mistaking the silvery hair and the nose still buried in a book; even the green headphones remain the same, a detail that makes you laugh a little when you approach him and hope he isn't too upset at the sudden reunion.

"Alhaitham," you say cheerily, waving at him in case his noise-canceling is on. "It's been a while!"

Alhaitham takes his eyes off his book to look at you, hands raised to take off his headphones. You grin when it seems that he is just as surprised to see you as you are. "It has," he agrees. "More than a few years." He takes a look at you. "You haven't changed a bit."

"How rude!" You say teasingly, "I've changed a little bit in the past few years. Maybe not in appearance, but still. Mind if I sit?"

Alhaitham moves over when you take a chair over to sit in front of him, and it feels like the two of you never left high school-- if not for the stark fact that Alhaitham has changed physically since then. His jaw is more defined, shoulders broader, probably even taller than he was back then. He's handsome, you think, though then again, he always has been.

Wistfully, you think about the years you've lost connection with him and wonder what he has been up to. You've always enjoyed his company, much to some of your other friends' chagrin, and that sentiment has not changed now when the two of you converse easily.

"So," Alhaitham says, "were you on a date with someone?"

You don't even bother asking how he knew, only sighing and waving a hand. "I was going to be. He canceled last minute so I was going to grab something and go." Alhaitham hums noncommittally, and you snort in laughter, reminded of his apathy towards relationships then and, you guess, now.

You remember the times Alhaitham turned down people in high school at a ridiculous rate. "Another one?" You remember someone saying jokingly, seeing Alhaitham simply toss a letter slipped into his locker.

"You won't respond at least?" You asked, sympathetic over the courage it took to confess.

"I don't know them," you recall him saying. "Why should I consider being in a relationship with them when we haven't even spoken to gauge our compatibility?"

Alhaitham ended up not accepting anyone's confessions. You don't remember him dating in high school or during university either in the times you've messaged him just to catch up. Not that you have a stellar record either, having dated only one person your whole life without it going very far. You can't say you haven't tried though.

"So you're not dating anyone?" You ask, taking a sip of your drink.

Alhaitham looks at you briefly; you can never tell what he's thinking. He eventually looks away and says, "No. I'm not interested in dating."

"At all?" You ask again, voice high in genuine disbelief. 'Still?' is the unspoken question. (What a shame, you can't help but think.) When Alhaitham gives a nonchalant shrug, you let yourself sit back, astonished. You think about your (lack of) experience, the fatigue from dating apps, and then look at Alhaitham.

You've always found him attractive; you can't deny this. You trust him as a friend and as a confidant, because in his own words-- what is the use of telling secrets? Alhaitham is as intelligent and rational as ever, something you have always admired in him, which is why you trust him with this question.

"Would you be down for a friends with benefits relationship then?"

Alhaitham raises his brow in question and pauses in thought before responding. "...In general?" He asks, "Or with you?"

You love the way Alhaitham needs no explanation.

"Both," you reply. "Serious inquiry."

Worst case scenario Alhaitham rejects the offer and the two of you move on from this conversation (hopefully). Best case scenario is him saying yes. Last thing you expect is to have Alhaitham look at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him: unadulterated shock. You laugh at his reaction despite the tension that could have been held between the two of you, and you start to wave off the entire ordeal when Alhaitham tells you "sure."

It's only Alhaitham, but you show up at his apartment with a nervous flutter in your heart. He opens the door soon after you knock, donned in a regular shirt and sweatpants. You feel your shoulders relax at the casualness of it all and thank him for his hospitality as you enter his home. It does not take much to strike a normal conversation with him, words between the two of you flowing like usual. You are given a tour of the apartment per request, briefly admiring the tiles of the bathroom floor before ending the route in his room. It is minimalistic aside from the usual amenities, and it feels so much like Alhaitham that you smile as he types something on his laptop before turning back to you.

"Is my room that amusing to you?" Alhaitham scoffs, closing his laptop.

"Yeah, it kind of is," you agree easily. "It's better than a man cave, I'll give you that. But the walls are as empty as the day you got this place probably."

"I'll be sure to let you know when inspiration hits for me to decorate," he says sardonically, making you giggle to yourself. "Did you want music?"

The sudden change in topic makes you tilt your head in confusion. "Music?" You echo. "Music for what?"

Without skipping a beat, a song starts playing on low volume, bass steady and clear in his speakers. Alhaitham stands tall then, his headphones off, you note vaguely. He seems a lot taller than you remember, but perhaps it is because he is usually conscious of the difference in height to stand at a distance, so you don't have to crane your neck. This time, when Alhaitham stands right in front of you, close enough to bump chests, you look up and realize it is the first time you've really looked into Alhaitham's eyes.

There are more colors than you thought.

You instinctively want to take a step back, but his hand holding your arm-- firmly, just enough to stop you, but not strong enough to keep you there if you wanted to leave-- keeps you underneath his gaze. You are normally so good at defusing the tension with a few well-placed words of humor, but you aren't quite sure this is a tension that you want to cut through.

Just like that, your heart is at your throat. Alhaitham truly is very handsome, you think, eyes looking at his long lashes, the curve of his nose, and his lips. You can't help but jump when Alhaitham leans down, face closest to yours as it has ever been. You feel ridiculous, being strung taut as a caught fishing line just from being close to Alhaitham. Your cheeks prickle with the speed in which it warms, and just when you begin to wonder what Alhaitham could possibly be waiting for before he kisses you, his lips are on yours.

Your eyes close almost immediately, arms reaching up to hold onto him and finding purchase around his neck as he pulls you close until the two of you are flushed against each other. How long has it been since you've been kissed, let alone been kissed like this? Lips separating from yours only enough to find new ways to kiss you again. You gasp when Alhaitham gently bites and pulls at your lower lips. Feeling emboldened by your reception, Alhaitham swoops in and meets his tongue with yours, and you melt in his embrace.

You are surprised to see that you could probably go on kissing Alhaitham forever if that was all you could do. You only vaguely realize how efficiently you've been breathing through your nose through it all when you separate from him, dazed, and hear him mutter "fuck" under his breath.

A rush of adrenaline. You were already aware that Alhaitham is a willing participant in this newly established situationship, but to hear him being as affected as you do numbers to your rapidly increasing arousal. It's only fun when the both of you are enjoying it, after all.

"Not bad from someone who hasn't smooched anyone in years, huh?" You begin to tease, rightfully earning yourself a dirty look from Alhaitham. His lips are still wet, you think, and heat curls up from your lower abdomen up. The room suddenly feels hot.

"Are we trying to rate every encounter now?" Alhaitham remarks dryly, only to make you laugh at the thought of it.

"Not if it's not at least a 7/10," you say breathlessly. You shake in laughter again when you see him roll his eyes before holding onto his hand and tugging him to the couch. "Here, sit. My neck is starting to get tired. Being shorter is a struggle, you know."

Alhaitham sighs but sits obediently where you take him. "What do you-" He snaps his mouth shut when you swing your legs over his lap and sit yourself on top of him. You quirk a smile at the rare sight of Alhaitham being stunned once again and wonder how easily it seems to have gotten to make him react like that.

His hand easily finds its place at your waist as you curl your hands into the hair at the nape. "Trying to make myself comfortable," you say slyly. "This is much better."

You close the distance and kiss him again. You're a quick learner, so you do what has been done to you: nipping at his lips, tugging and pulling, and licking into his mouth until it makes him as breathless as you are. Is this what it's like to have chemistry? You wonder, feeling Alhaitham's hands dip underneath your top to slide his hand across the expanse of your naked skin. You want him to touch you more.

Alhaitham must have the same ideas because he murmurs at you to take it off, and you raise your arms easily to let him do exactly that. His fingers waste no time in pressing into the softness of your breast, over the white cloth of your bra. He is quick to grow tired of the thin barrier though, pulling it down just so your breasts can pop out into full view. Your cheeks prick in embarrassment at how exposed you feel-- this is the first man to see you like this, after all-- and having Alhaitham look at you with intense focus does not help with it.

Alhaitham's hands are warm when they cup your breasts, gently squeezing them until your nipples perk against his long fingers. You gasp in pleasure when he pinches them and tugs. Your arms reach out and hold onto his shoulders for support. As though on cue, Alhaitham swoops down to capture one of your nubs in his mouth while his hand plays idly with the other. He swirls it with his tongue, leaving a trail of spit when he detaches himself from it to move onto the other one. You hum as your hands card through his hair.

Alhaitham's free hand unhooks your bra, leaving it to hang down your shoulders. You immediately tug it completely off, casting it carelessly elsewhere. He is quick to be on you again, encouraging you to wrap your arms around him as he sucks onto your tits. It feels rather uneven, the way you're half-dressed but he's still fully clothed. You can feel the way his muscles contract underneath your hands, fingers tracing along the exposed skin of his neck that is far from being enough for you.

Just as you decide to ask Alhaitham to return the favor and take his clothes off, your hands spasms in his hair when Alhaitham takes a nipple between his teeth and tugs, hard.

Oh fuck, you think, letting out a long, shaky breath just before Alhaitham does it again, his hands on your back as it arches at his touch. "Fuck," you say aloud this time, and you can feel the way Alhaitham's lips curve up in amusement, the bastard. "Hey, you take your clothes off too," you tell him, tugging up the hem of his shirt.

Alhaitham looks at you steadily. "Why?"

You stare back at him and sputter. "What do you mean 'why?'" You-" You scowl, feeling your cheeks warm as Alhaitham continues to look at you with a smirk. "You just want me to say it, don't you?"

"I'm not a mind reader," he says, lips curving up. "How would I know what you want if you don't tell me?"

"I want to see you," you say, cheeks prickling with an embarrassment that you push through. "I want to touch you too, you know." When Alhaitham smirks at you before sitting up from the couch to take his shirt off, you huff. "Ugh, this is why everyone keeps giving you side eyes," you say, your hands sliding over his open chest with a mild sense of reverence despite your words. You knew Alhaitham was toned to hell, and this is the first time you've been granted the chance to view it in all its glory, your hands brushing over his built abdomen, thumb brushing over his nipples.

Alhaitham jumps slightly when you do so, and you giggle, ignoring the narrowed look you get from him and the way he grips onto your hips just the slightest. You shift in your seat, only to feel Alhaitham's hold you still, face flushed despite the impartial expression on his face. "What, what's up-" You feel it then, the hardness underneath your thighs, and you know Alhaitham sees the realization dawn on you because his blush travels down his neck.

He's embarrassed, you think gleefully. After initiating the hottest make out session you've ever had and easily pulling taut your strings, Alhaitham is embarrassed that he's hard? If anything, he should be-- better be! And you're a little flattered, you tell him just as much teasingly, and you can't help but hug him when he scowls at you.

Ah, you feel your heart flutter, knowing the effect you have on the immovable Alhaitham. But he is far from it now, chest heaving under your palm, cock hard as you press down onto it despite his modest resistance. You won't say it to him out loud, knowing he wouldn't like it, but you think Alhaitham is adorable as he is now. (You imagine people would say you're the only one who would think that.)

You rock your hips, eyes not straying from Alhaitham's as he stubbornly meets your gaze. His thighs are tense underneath you as you line yourself up to press your pussy lips against his clothed cock. A skirt was a good choice, you think dreamily; it lets you grind on him with aching accuracy and lets Alhaitham slide his hands across your legs and reach behind to squeeze your ass. You hum again in appreciation, kissing Alhaitham again as he generously cups your behind, making you moan, which he easily swallows up.

"Take your pants off too," you say, sitting back onto his legs. Before he can ask, you press your palm down on his bulge and quip a smile at him. "I want to try sucking you off."

You tie your hair up before kneeling down between Alhaitham's knees. His cock sits erect on his stomach, head flush with arousal. It should feel intimidating the way Alhaitham watches you, but you know Alhaitham, and you figure if there is anyone that you can be comfortable doing this with, it would be him.

"Tell me what to do," you say, hands softly trailing up and down his thighs. "I've never done this before."

"You've watched porn, haven't you?" Alhaitham replies dryly, making you roll your eyes good naturedly.

"It's not the same thing as doing, and you know it." You look over at the nearby table he has kindly set up for you in advance and take the bottle of lotion to pour some onto your hand. Alhaitham jolts slightly at the coldness of the lotion, hissing in a breath, though with the way you are steadily pumping his cock, you aren't quite certain the sound wasn't at least partially from pleasure. "Alhaitham," you begin, a whining lilt to your voice. "Come on. Teach me?"

"Alright, alright, fine," Alhaitham says, his hand covering his face. "Just- just stop for a second."

You let go of his cock, beaming up at him as he shifts so that he's sitting more comfortably. "Here," he says, almost boredly. He gestures for you to take him in hand again, and your heart skips when you feel his hand over yours, squeezing it as he guides it up and down again in a steady rhythm. "Tighten your grip like this. A little harder is fine. There are more nerve endings at the tip, but there's nothing wrong with covering the base as well." You can only nod in acknowledgement, a lump in the back of your throat as you emulate exactly what Alhaitham has shown you.

Is this how he normally gets himself off? The same strength, the same motion-- maybe a little extra attention at the tip where it is more sensitive? You feel your face warm and hope it does not show as you watch Alhaitham's face for approval or for any signs of pleasure.

Alhaitham has always been intense despite his neutral face. But you know him well enough to recognize the minute changes that occur. The tense jaw, partially open mouth, half-lidded gaze is enough to light a fire in your stomach. But you wonder how he would look if he were completely drowned in pleasure, if you could be the one that makes him look like that.

You speak before you can lose the courage to. "Can I use my mouth?" You say, "I want to use my mouth."

Alhaitham's cock twitches in your hand.

"Then put it in your mouth then," Alhaitham says, "and avoid teeth. It hurts."

Obediently, you nod and sit up on your knees, puppy licking the tip to test the waters before opening your mouth to put it in. You had thought this when your hand could not completely wrap around his cock, but Alhaitham is big, enough to make your jaw ache when you try to fit more of his member in. You make a sound of discontent when the cock head hits the back of your throat and you aren't even halfway down. You let your tongue rest on the bottom of his cock, saliva pooling underneath with a mouth so full.

It doesn't fit, you think somewhat dejectedly. You swallow around his cock, making a discontented noise when you feel Alhaitham's thigh clench as he bucks up into your mouth. "Sorry," he says, and you tell him an incomprehensible 'it's okay' around his cock. His thigh tenses up again.

You tentatively raise your head, lips wrapped around his member for a moment before pulling yourself off, ready to ask for guidance when Alhaitham offers it to you. "You can use your hand to cover the rest of it," he says. "A wringing motion like this. It'll feel better if you suck while you're doing it too. Use lotion or spit if it's too dry."

You nod and follow his words step by step, swallowing his cock again and hollowing your cheeks. The other hand pumps his cock as you slowly bob your head up and down. You lift yourself up with a breath and let saliva spill from your lips to ease the motion, your eyes glancing up to meet Alhaitham's eyes.

You don't think he has taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

It's a little addicting to know that his attention is all yours. What does he like best about this whole situation, you muse. The fact that he's your first? The eager way in which you are trying to please him? Or is it the look of you drooling over his cock, getting off just from sucking it?

You hum in pleasure around his cock and he throws his head back, hips jilting up only slightly.

You pop yourself off of him again, hand pumping the entire expanse of his cock as you tilt your head to lick at his balls. "Fuck," Alhaitham mutters, hands clenched into the couch. You watch as his eyes flutter open before looking at you again, chest rising and falling. Not one to give neither you nor him reprieve, you are sucking him off again, and then off, and then on. It's a little fun watching him writhe, and you slowly begin to realize the power you seem to have over him.

You are so grateful to Alhaitham for saying 'yes.' The feeling of being wanted, of being desired, of being empowered is intoxicating. Watching Alhaitham fall apart before your eyes because of you is even more so.

He says your name, strained, "I'm close."

Alhaitham lets out an involuntary groan when you pop off again. "Does cum taste bad?" You ask. "It's a lot neater if I swallow, unless you want it somewhere else?" The thought of Alhaitham finishing on your chest or face is somewhat appealing, though you worry about the mess.

It doesn't seem like Alhaitham particularly cares, because he grits out, "Your choice." He muffles a grunt of pleasure that you wish you could hear at full volume. "Just-"

The key to success is consistency, you think. You bob your head up and down in tandem with your hand, licking the head and swirling your tongue around his shaft until Alhaitham lets out a strained, "I'm coming-"

Despite the warning, the warmth that spurts in your mouth is still surprising. You slow your pace as Alhaitham cums, all pretty gasps and grunts that makes your head spin as you take all he is giving and swallowing. It's a lot more than you think too, your hand daintily at your mouth as you swallow as though it were the last bite of a meal. You look at Alhaitham, skin glistening with sweat, breathing hard after his climax, eyes slightly wide as he watches you lick your lips.

Before you can ask for it, Alhaitham shifts just enough to reach for a towel-- he really is prepared for everything-- for you to wipe your hand with. You hear him let out a long breath before you return the towel to him for his own uses. You stand up, wincing at the marks on your knees from kneeling for so long before grinning at him.

"So, what's the verdict?" You ask jokingly, making him scoff and roll his eyes as you had predicted.

"I'm not answering that," he says. He stands up and picks his sweatpants from the ground to make himself more modest. "You can extrapolate for that type of answer yourself."

You expected as much, but you still pout and sigh. You sit on the couch next to him. "Aw, boo, well I guess I'll just give myself an 8/10 then." You stop when you feel Alhaitham's gaze on you, calculating. "What, what is it? Am I lowballing it or what-"

"I think it's your turn," Alhaitham says simply.

"Oh, uh..." You honestly didn't come to his house expecting anything, so this comes as a surprise to you. That and a few certain parts of you makes that bit of insecurity flare up the moment Alhaitham mentions reciprocation. "It's fine," you say, "we don't have to-" You snap your mouth shut when Alhaitham parts your legs to put his knees between, his hand lifting your chin so he can kiss you. You vaguely think about the fact that he can probably taste himself on your tongue.

"I insist," Alhaitham murmurs against your lips.

"What do you suggest then?" You stammer, and Alhaitham pushes himself off just enough to look at you directly.

"We could try fingering. See if that's to your taste and then move on." He gauges you carefully. "We could stop if you truly wanted to, but don't make that decision on my behalf."

"Well, we could try," you say, lowering your gaze, feeling your heart pick up in anticipation.

"Alright," Alhaitham replies softly. "You can stop me at any time."

This is why you trust Alhaitham. This is why you asked Alhaitham to do this with you, to-- for a lack of better, less dramatic phrases-- be your first. It was made as a casual request but Alhaitham knew to take it seriously for you anyways. You aren't sure how much he knows how his words make you feel at ease.

The sense of ease is immediately replaced with nervous anticipation when Alhaitham parts your legs, pooling your skirt at your stomach, and slips his hand underneath your panties. You hear him let out a sharp breath, and before you can ask what's wrong, he says, almost in awe, "You're so wet."

You understand Alhaitham's feelings earlier now when you had felt his bulge; your arousal on full blast is nothing short of mortifying even though the situation calls for it. You hadn't even noticed, so focused on the task at hand, but when Alhaitham pulls back with glistening lines of slick between his fingers, you don't doubt his observation.

"W-Well, you know," you mumble, your hand grasping onto his supporting arm. Your eyes flutter when Alhaitham cups your sex, fingers sliding a line down the middle. Your hand spasms when his thumb hits your clit on the way down, and Alhaitham does not miss it. "Wait, Alhaitham-" You squeal when he presses onto your clit, swirling around it with persistent pressure that makes it hard to say anything coherent. You wouldn't have wanted to tell him to stop anyways, but you have a feeling he just wanted to tease you.

"Sensitive?" He says almost smugly.

"Not usually no," you choke out, breathing out a sigh of relief when Alhaitham lets off.

"Interesting," he says, and it's only now you realize how quiet Alhaitham was before when you were on your knees. Now with him at the upper hand, he can speak all he wants, and you're the one left catching your breath. It really is different when it's someone else doing it. "I'm putting one in to start, okay?"

You nod, but when you feel the first intrusion prod in, you reach out to seek out Alhaitham for support. "Relax," he tells you. "Your muscles are too tense for anything."

"Sorry," you say, taking a deep breath. He pulls you closer, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hot breath hits his neck when you turn to him. "Make sure you really lube that up, Haitham." You breathe again when his finger enters, and when it curls up onto the spongey part of your cunt, you feel it. It's nothing of import yet, but Alhaitham seems patient enough to build up to it.

One finger barely fits, but even with time, the second finger enters too. "You're tight," Alhaitham grunts, and you feel yourself redden as your only response. "I think you're stretched out. Any pain?" When you shake your head on his shoulders, you feel his fingers slowly pump in and out of you.

It picks up in pace and intensity, and then when he curves up this time- oh, you aren't sure you've ever felt this sensation before. Alhaitham's fingers are so much longer than yours, so it makes sense he can reach the places you can't, knuckles deep in you. Your breathing quickens and with it, Alhaitham's speed, his fingers pounding at that same spot over and over. You're at a daze, not any closer to a climax but not bored without pleasure. You aren't sure how long Alhaitham goes at it until he slows down, and the fog clears up.

"You okay?"

You hum, turning your head to face Alhaitham when he peers over to you. "Yeah," you mumble, "I feel good, just can't come from this."

"Hm."

You miss Alhaitham's warmth when he pulls away, fingers grasping at him. The haze that you feel quickly blows away when Alhaitham gets on his knees and pries your legs apart. "Whoa, um-"

"Most cannot finish with vaginal stimulation alone," Alhaitham says factually. "Hence, I'll be focusing my efforts on other areas."

"Yeah, I get that," you say, blinking with embarrassment. "It's just, um..."

Without your understanding, Alhaitham gives you a deeply unimpressed look. "Hair is a natural phenomenon. It doesn't matter to me in the slightest."

You would find it hard to believe, an insecure part of you convinced that it must be polite niceties. But this is Alhaitham, and he is never one for false platitudes and social norms with strangers or friends or you. When he says he does not care, you believe him.

"If you're sure," you tell him, and you let out a small squeak when he tugs your panties down, not even bothering to take it off completely before you feel his fingers pry your leaking lips apart. A lick up your clit has your legs closing on his head, but Alhaitham's hands easily pry you apart and keep you that way, your pussy open to be eaten.

You want to look away when Alhaitham's meets your eyes, and then his lips press to your folds and he begins to gorge himself on you.

It's impossible to keep your eyes open then when you're too distracted by how Alhaitham's tongue swirls around your clit, the muscle pressing into the bud of nerves with a dogged persistence. Even the noises you have kept to a minimum spill from your lips involuntarily. You can only breathe in hiccups, Alhaitham relentless in his pursuit of your climax as he sucks on your clit and begins to press his fingers against the zone of pleasure inside you as well.

'It feels good' sounds like an understatement at this point. You climb the precipice at an alarming speed, and you cannot help but grasp onto the hand keeping your thighs apart to ground yourself. It's almost overwhelming, but then you feel Alhaitham unfurl his grip onto your leg to grasp onto your hand.

It must be the endorphins, but you feel a warm ooze of affection for Alhaitham pool in your chest.

Logical, calm, and reasonable Alhaitham. Arrogant, antisocial, abrasive Alhaitham. Observant, considerate, and kind Alhaitham. You've known this man for so many years, and you are reminded in this instance that in all the times you have trusted him, he has never failed you once.

"Alhaitham-" You cry out. Your head feels hot as you curl your toes, your heels at his shoulders. When he hums in response, you feel the build up towards the beginning of the end. "I'm- I'm coming-"

You throw your head back, gasping in pleasure as your body jerks with waves of pleasure. Hazily, you feel Alhaitham lap at your hole at a slow but steady pace, his mouth never leaving you even as you buck against him.

Alhaitham only lets you go when your body slackens, legs limp in his arm as he gently sets it down in a comfortable position for you. You watch him, dazed, as he quietly grabs the towel to wipe his face and hands. He must see you look because he turns to you and offers you the towel too, though the mess between your legs is one of the last things you care about at the moment.

"C'mere," you say, arms reaching out for him. When he doesn't immediately come to you, you wave your hands insistently. "Plea-a-ase come here? I wanna cuddle."

A flicker of emotion comes and goes on Alhaitham's face before he replaces it with exasperation. "I didn't realize the benefits portion of friends with benefits included cuddles," he says, but he walks to you anyways, huffing in laughter at the small 'yay!' from you. Alhaitham settles in the space you moved over for him on the couch, and you immediately latch yourself onto him, head fitting easily at the crook of his neck. As his arms wrap around you, you heave a content sigh.

"You should have read the fine print, Alhaitham," you drawl, cheek pressed against his naked skin. "It was right there on page 562, 9th clause, addendum number four." You close your eyes, smiling at the sound of Alhaitham's little huff.

"Out of the two of us, I'm the one more likely to read a written agreement in full," he says. His voice reverberates in your ears, low and comforting.

You always thought he had a nice voice, reading out texts in class and reciting lines without effort. The two of you are a long way off from high school, but thinking back at the Alhaitham back then brings you good memories. It's even more so when you compare it to the Alhaitham now of whom reconnecting with was happenstance.

Alhaitham has changed a little in the years you have not seen him, with what you know now includes a fallout with Kaveh and an early college graduation. He's a little softer, you think, edges more blunt but still just as deadly when wielded with a sharp wit. It is to your comfort that most parts of him remain the same. A little smug, a little snark.

You're glad; you've always liked him just the way he is.

You feel his hand absently rub circles into your shoulders and feel as though that sentiment has only grown stronger.

"...You're hard again?" You ask after a moment, muffling your laughter into his skin when he clicks his tongue and shifts his legs so the offending body part in question is no longer touching you.

"A normal physical reaction," Alhaitham says, miffed.

You pause. "You want me to do it again?" You ask.

Alhaitham shifts so he can look down at you as you give him a grin, reaching down to grasp at his shaft and watching that moment when you catch him off guard, eyes fluttering in pleasure. Oh, yes, you think, heat pooling into your abdomen, you can certainly go for another round.

You tell him that you are tired of dating around with men you have no connection with, afraid to build intimacy when you are still inexperienced, and trust him enough to put up the offer to be friends with benefits. Alhaitham knows he is in love with you, but he says yes anyways. He does not make miscalculations often, but he acknowledges that he is only human, so he is prone to them occasionally. He thinks this decision to be friends with benefits with you may be one of them.

He has always had a hard time featuring his own feelings in the equation, surprisingly volatile in its unchanging affection for you even after all these years. (How long has it been since high school?) Anyone with a brain not controlled by their libido knows entering a purely sexual relationship with someone you’ve never quite stopped having feelings for is a recipe for disaster. But just maybe, being aware of that much will let Alhaitham avoid ruin.

It doesn't stop the way something in his chest twists painfully at the thought of holding you close even though you could not be more further away. After all, in initiating this relationship with him, you must have seen him as only a friend. You seem excited at the prospect of starting this type of relationship with him, and he is not one to deny you something if he believes it is something in his power to give.

On that note, he is surprised when he hears you have no experience being in a physical relationship with a man. Alhaitham does admit the idea of being your 'first' appeals to him, and because of that he thinks maybe he isn't so infallible to the whims of desire.

He's liked you for ages. He isn't sure even the best of men can refuse when the object of his affection asks him to treat them gently. (Or so he thinks. You may be more of his weak spot than he ever anticipated.)

You show up on his doorstep a week later, beaming at him when he lets you into his apartment. In the days leading up to this meeting, Alhaitham has prepped the environment with necessary amenities. You didn't specify what was to happen today, so he prepares everything to the lube to the condoms to the towels. Music, too, is something he did extensive research in, having learned that it can often set the mood.

Alhaitham isn't necessarily the most experienced person, but for the sake of knowing, he has slept with people and learned about his own preferences. He is more curious than he admits to finding out more about your preferences.

Still, when you look up at him doe-eyed and cheeks warm in anticipation, he is taken aback by the idea that he'll be the one to guide you today. He remembers when you were the one to direct him to class when he was lost as a transfer sophomore in high school. You were so assure of yourself, confident-- he never would have anticipated that you would have a shy side to you.

Perhaps that is what makes it all the more endearing, you all the more desirable, his chest searing with want as he closes the gap to finally feel your lips on his.

He really likes you, he's reminded, heart beating hard in his chest he thinks you might be able to hear it. And though you do not kiss him with the same feelings he holds for you, when you look up at him like that, he can almost imagine that you do.

Lips are one of the erogenous zones outside of sexual organs, filled with sensitive nerves that can sense even the slightest difference in temperature. The auditory sense is powerful too when it comes to stimulating the libido. It's why Alhaitham wants to devour you when he hears your small gasps as he pulls at your lips.

"Come sit," you murmur to him, and he can only acquiesce without a word. Good thing, because he would have been made speechless the way you boldly swing your legs over to sit on his lap. Alhaitham is acutely aware that his cock has begun to fill, straining against sweatpants that shows no effort to hide his arousal.

Your kisses sear his lips, your hands welcoming his to explore your body which he does with little hesitation. Alhaitham wants to see you in full, your breasts spilling out and nipples hard being irresistible that he cannot do anything but put his mouth to use again.

Your skin is smooth against his palm, your sounds of pleasure almost like music to his ears he almost wishes it weren't buffeted by the sensual base notes of a playlist he searched up last night. "I want to touch you too," you tell him breathlessly, and who is he to deny you that?

When you take a moment to admire his body, he takes this moment to look at you-- an overview, one might say. You are breathtaking in his perspective, lips slightly swollen, breasts bouncing when you adjust yourself. Alhaitham feels his cheeks warm when you innocuously grind yourself onto him (that damned skirt), and he only grows hotter when you do it again with purpose.

He should have known you would be able to flip the tables on him like that, inexperience be damned. You've always had a way to do that.

And then you are on your knees, hair up and ready to pleasure him, and he almost doesn't know what to do. Except he must-- you want him to guide you, to teach you how to make him feel good, and the way you easily do that forces him to do his best not to buck up into your touch. He must be more sensitive because it's you, or maybe you really are that fast of a learner, even when it comes to sucking cock.

Would you like dirty talk? He wonders, praise or degradation? You seem to like it a little rough, though you seem receptive to his gentleness too. Not that he can think it thoroughly with the way you are hallowing your cheeks, tongue swirling around his cock. Seeing you swallow his cum-- all of it-- is almost enough to revive his softening member, the way you look at him coyly an attractive look on your face.

He thinks the way your face contorts in pleasure is also an attractive look for him too. Alhaitham looks up from his position between your legs and watches you with hazy desire as you close your eyes, hand at your mouth to muffle your gasps. Alhaitham thinks of telling you to stop covering yourself, but he thinks that just this one time, his mouth has better things to do.

His name on your lips as you reach your high makes him close his eyes and hum in pleasure, tongue delving into you again as your slick gushes from your hole. Alhaitham is a man of pride, and watching your body slacken, spent on pleasure that he wrought from you makes his chest burn with satisfaction.

He wipes himself and sees you look up at him almost sleepily, and the satisfaction quickly morphs into gentle affection. He wants to kiss your forehead, clean you up himself and hold you. But is that too revealing? Too much emotion for a relationship like this? And Alhaitham is brought back to the reality that you are only his friends with benefits. (He is well aware of the concept of 'post-nut clarity' but finds it loathsome at the moment.)

Just as he begins to formulate words to wrap this scene in a pretty bow, you wave him over with an endearingly whining croon, and he comes to you without thinking otherwise. He is yours to hold-- always has been.

Alhaitham cannot control how you feel (would never want to), but he can control the way he will not fall apart even as you lay down with him, tracing shapes into his hand in a way he's never allowed himself to dream of. So close yet so far, he thinks, trying not to smile when you whinge at him at pushing you off the couch until you go to the bathroom. He'll take care of you as long as you'll have him.

You go over to Alhaitham's when you can. You try not to treat him like a booty call--though, as he has told you before, that is simply the nature of the relationship. But you are his friend before it comes with the benefits, so you try not to treat him any less. After all, you like spending time with Alhaitham, sex or not, though for some reason he seems almost bewildered when you come over his house and want to take him out for a taco truck you've been craving to eat.

"Isn't this what friends with benefits do?" You point out, biting into your taco. "Being friends with some extra stuff attached?"

Alhaitham looks at you for a moment. You take this time to squeeze some lemon onto his uneaten tacos for him.

"I suppose so," Alhaitham says noncommitally. "I was under the slightest impression you also wanted to use me for experimentation, considering your lack of experience. So you would want to take every opportunity we get to do something."

You scrunch your nose. "I don't like the word 'use.' It’s not like I talked to you and asked you this just for that reason." You frown, and the thought settles in you uncomfortably. "Please don't say that I'm using you. I'm not. I care about you," you say firmly. "I don't want you to feel that type of way, so if you do, we can stop being friends with benefits and just go back to-"

Alhaitham raises his hands in surrender. "No need," he says." I apologize. I wasn't being careful with my choice of words."

The discontent dissipates almost immediately with his words. You can't help but feel pleased. "And aren't you the one with a linguistics degree?" You tease, making him roll his eyes as he takes a bite of his food.

You imagine his eyes are rolled back again if he were to open them now on the ride back to his place as you give him a hand job. Only on the red lights, you vow; you wouldn't want to cause an accident on the road if he were to close his eyes while driving, though the unamused look he gives you has you biting the inside of your cheek to stop smiling.

The two of you end up parked at a neighborhood street when you unclip your seatbelt to finish him off with your mouth. You think his cum tastes a little better than before, and you tell him just as much when Alhaitham tucks himself back in. He only shrugs nonchalantly, but when you look into his fridge later after another session for refreshments you find freshly cut pineapple wrapped in a plate.

You wonder if you would taste better if you started eating them too.

And a month passes with the same routine: you ask if you can come over, the two of you go out to eat or go for an outing before inevitably ending up back at his place for some stress relief. You don't mean to do it every time you go to his place, but it ends up happening anyways. You ask if he wants to try something and then he says yes.

69-ing ends up being a lot more difficult than you anticipated, mainly because you keep getting distracted by things other than the pleasure itself. No matter how many times Alhaitham insists you're not too heavy, and no, you cannot break his neck (his confidence extends in all spheres), you can never get yourself comfortable.

And then there's the alignment issues. You may as well just take turns; it makes it easier for the both of you.

Some things he suggests too, such as face sitting. Alhaitham seems adamant on proving you wrong when he settles underneath you, your thighs on either side of his head as he serves as your seat until your legs are shaking in pleasure.

Alhaitham, you find out, is as good at dirty talk as you imagined. It's the linguistics degree in him, you always joke, but then you're always put in your place when he makes you beg for him to continue eating you out. He is smug as always after these sessions and you can only jab at him to no effect when you see it.

Leaving your jaw slack as he fucks your face, groaning about how good you're taking him, how good you look taking in his cock like you'd like nothing but to take his load down your throat- well. If it was possible for you to finish with just his words, you gladly would have. You are certainly close enough afterwards that Alhaitham only needs his hand on you for a minute before you're creaming onto his fingers, words murmured into your ears like soft feathers.

You voice does end up a little hoarse afterwards, throat sore, but Alhaitham is quick to bring you warm ginger tea to soothe it.

"Go to the bathroom," he tells you sternly. "I won't be responsible for any UTIs."

And when you come back from the bathroom, stark naked (you've instigated round two with this before by accident), your clothes are always ready and folded at the coach with Alhaitham in the kitchen getting you refreshments. It's times like these that make you forced to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room: the more you try not to think about it, the more you feel like Alhaitham would be a really great boyfriend.

Clearly, you overestimated your ability to not catch feelings for a long-time friend whom you trust and has told you straight up he is not interested in dating. You've put yourself in a bit of a sticky situation because you find yourself wanting to abide by the boundaries set by being friends with benefits, but also barely holding back from kissing Alhaitham on the cheek goodbye or asking if you can stay the night. Or taking him on real dates. Or holding his hand when you go out.

You think Alhaitham might not like the hassles that come along with being in a relationship. It's definitely got obligations that he may not be interested in fulfilling-- at least until he finds the right person. The fact he has not said a word to you about it only tells you that you are not that person. (Your heart hopes and yearns though, and you think it needs to shut up.)

Luckily or not, you end up being busy with work and family matters, so you don't get to see Alhaitham for a while. You still message him often, if only to talk about random things or complain about so-and-so. You think you should be more disciplined; perhaps the distance will keep your feelings at bay, but then the moment you find a reprieve in work you're immediately texting Alhaitham to meet up for coffee.

The feelings aren't going away, you think with mild exasperation when you find yourself nodding and hanging onto his every word as he talks about something stupid his coworker has done (and always does). All things come to an end, but you think you like to hang onto Alhaitham like this just a little while longer. Eventually you'll have to broach the dreaded but much needed subject of 'what are we?' but until then, you are more than content being with Alhaitham like this even if you wish you were officially together.

But you can't blame the way things have turned out. After all, if this never happened, would you ever have gotten close to Alhaitham like this?

You check the time on your watch and sigh. "Ugh, I promised I'd run errands for my mom so I gotta go," you say, standing up from the coffee table. You grab your empty cup and toss it in the trash. When you look at Alhaitham, he seems unsure. "Uh, what's up?"

"...I assumed we were going back to my place afterwards," he says carefully. "I thought that was why you called me."

"Oh, no," you say, mouth open with words at the tip of your tongue. You feel your heart rise to your throat as your cheeks grow hot at the honesty of your next words. "I just wanted to see you. Sorry. I should have said something."

"No, it's fine." Alhaitham pushes his seat back to stand too. "You did say we were friends first before the benefits."

You did say that, you remember, but now you can't help but wish the two of you were more than friends. You bite your tongue from blurting those words, but you end up staring at him for a moment too long to not be awkward. "Yeah," you end up saying, "I think I'll be able to see you again next week? I'm less busy, if that's okay?"

"Sure," he says, and you can't help but feel he is so far from you even though he is in arm's reach. "See you then."

It is settled in your heart and head (both in agreement this time) that your friends with benefits relationship with Alhaitham has an expiration date that is coming soon. You like Alhaitham too much to keep pretending that you don't, so it is only a matter of time you end up being just his friend again or begin something anew as a couple. The probability of Alhaitham also catching feelings for you the same time as you is basically zero, you think miserably, so you can only bite the bullet when the time comes.

"I think next time," you say after another session, "I want to have you fuck me."

You hear Alhaitham stop rummaging into his fridge to look at you. His face betrays no emotion and for a frustrating moment, you wish it did just so you can see if he is affected as you are. But this is Alhaitham, and you know better than to expect as much.

"Alright," Alhaitham says. "I can bring the lube and the condoms-"

"No condom," you find yourself saying, "I can take birth control." You look at him, gauging his reaction. "Is that okay with you?"

Alhaitham meets your gaze steadily. "If you are."

"You'll take responsibility, won't you?" You say with a light lilt to your voice, though you trust Alhaitham to take your words seriously. "I'll see you next week?"

He nods. "Next week."

The expiration date comes more quickly than you hoped. You shake your head and the negative thoughts away at his front door before you knock. You care for Alhaitham and you like him as more than a friend: these truths are unchanging for you now, so there is no point in despairing about what is not to be. Besides, you don't want your first time-- with someone, with Alhaitham-- to be marred with angst. You want to enjoy it with him to the last minute.

You ring his doorbell and hear his footsteps approach the front door, your heart beating fast in nervous anticipation.

Alhaitham looks normal, which is to say, as calm as ever when he lets you into his apartment. You put your bag down in your usual spot and amble to the kitchen take a sip of water. Alhaitham walks to his room first to wait for you, and with a deep breath in, you follow after him.

You are reminded of the first time you came over to his house, standing there as you wait for Alhaitham to make the first move. Alhaitham does the usual routine: putting the music on, setting out the equipment, and laying down the towel. He turns to you as you quietly watch him and bends down enough to press a kiss to your cheek.

You feel the tension melt away.

You raise your hand to brush his hair from his eyes before cupping his cheeks to bring him closer to kiss. They are gentle ones though still full of feeling, heat thrumming behind every touch and warm breath shared. "Alhaitham," you murmur, his hands sliding your shirt over your head and guiding you toward the couch.

It is almost rehearsed the way Alhaitham's fingers nimbly remove your bra, his knees between your legs as he helps you out of your bottoms. You sit waiting and watching as Alhaitham removes his own clothes--a personal show-- before he is back on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses along the same spots he knows can make you tremble.

And Alhaitham knows you quite well now, you think, beyond the bedroom. He knows how you take your coffee (not black), how you like to order your food (spicy), the way you can get carsick so he drives smoother, the nasty habit of staying up late so he messages you at 11 pm to tell you to sleep. You trust him so terribly much, and he knows you terribly well-- it is no wonder that you fall apart under his touch in no time at all.

"Alhaitham," you breathe out, holding onto his wrist before he overstimulates your clit. "I want you inside of me. Please?"

You let out a surprised gasp when Alhaitham turns you, so he is facing your front. Your heart is beating so loudly underneath your hands where you've rested them on your chest. You think maybe you would have cold feet but instead you are surer than ever that Alhaitham is someone you want to be your first. You gasp in pleasure when Alhaitham's cock clips onto your clit as he glides it forward and back along your sex. You don't think you've ever wanted someone as you wanted Alhaitham.

But you like to think you know Alhaitham well, now better than ever. So when you look up at him as a flicker of emotion flashes across his face, you can identify it. Alhaitham stays in that position between your legs, conflicted, and that is enough to ebb away the waves of desire to ask him if he's okay.

His expression freezes then, his grip on your legs tightening just a little before releasing them again. "What do you mean?" He asks, and you have half a mind to not laugh at the fact he thinks he can fool you.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you say. "Not right now and maybe not ever if that's not something you want-"

"I-" Alhaitham snaps his mouth shut, lips twisting as he tries to say words that, for once, do not come easily to him. "That's not entirely true."

"What's not true?" You prompt.

"That this isn't something I want." Alhaitham looks steadily at you then. "Nothing could be more true."

"...Then how about you fuck something else?" You say, closing your legs and letting the plush of your thighs envelop his cock instead. Alhaitham swallows thickly, though his face is as impartial as ever (but you know better). "Pretend it's the real thing. For practice," you say coyly.

Alhaitham curses under his breath, closing his eyes at the sensation of his cock locked between your thighs.

You breathe out slowly, eyes mesmerized by the slant of his brows from concentration, mouths parted, and eyes closed in pleasure. You find that you don't mind this type of view at all, especially not for the finale. You watch every minute detail of Alhaitham chasing his bliss and ingrain it into your memory to keep.

You breathe out through your nose roughly when Alhaitham's cock hits your clit, his pace quickening as he slickens your thighs with a mix of your arousal and his. You moan at the thought of it, the sounds emanating from it a joint effort between your two bodies.

Alhaitham says your name then, making your heart skip a beat as your focus is back onto him. His eyes don't leave yours as he brings himself close to the climax. "Come for me, Haitham," you say, "come for me, baby."

Almost obediently, Alhaitham does as you say, cum staining your chest as though someone made your body a canvas. You watch him come back from his high, taking a finger to swipe some of it from your chest to taste. You smile at his coyly when you see Alhaitham watch you.

It's been fun, you think, as Alhaitham stands up to grab a towel to clean up. You sit up, combing a hand through your hair, working up the courage to say what needs to be said. You're jolted from your thoughts when you feel Alhaitham wipe a towel across your chest, cleaning up the mess the two of you made.

"Oh, thanks!" You say, laughing, "I almost forgot that was there."

"Your mind works in strange ways," Alhaitham says, and you think you are more compromised than you think when you hear the way his voice seems to dip lower, softer when he speaks to you. He pauses in his movement. "Sorry about earlier," he tells you. "Did you have another idea in mind?"

"It's fine, Haitham." You wave his concerns away. "And, um, sorta? It's nothing sexual actually, I just think I need to talk to you about something."

To his credit, Alhaitham only takes a moment to process your words. "Alright," he says. He takes a towel to wrap around your shoulders before putting his pants back on just for modesty. You watch him fondly as he sits next to you.

"I wanted to say thanks," you begin, "for doing this with me. I trust you to treat me right and you've never proven me wrong."

"No thanks needed," Alhaitham trails off, "is what I normally say but I don't mind a word of gratitude when it comes from you." He lets out a huff of laughter when you knock shoulders with him; yours is the only one that ends up a little sore.

"And I know we started this out as friends with benefits, but, um..." You breathe out. "I think... I've started to catch feelings for you." Not honest enough, you think, and add on, wincing, "A lot, actually. I like you as more than a friend." You turn away from him then, focusing on your hands as they fidget in your lap. "I don't think I can keep on doing this and pretend like I don't, so I think we should stop being friends with benefits."

You stammer, heart fluttering with anxiety, "A-And I know you said you didn't want to be in a relationship anyone, but I was wondering if you were interested in doing that with me...? If not, it's okay, I'm honestly really okay if we stayed as friends. I just wanted to be transparent with you because I think you deserve-"

"Why do you assume I wouldn't like you back?" Alhaitham cuts through. You turn to stare at him, and he meets your eyes and keeps them there. "I never said I didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone."

You stare. "What are you talking about? You're literally the one who told me you were never interested in dating."

"I'm not," Alhaitham says slowly. "I'm not interested in dating, but that doesn't mean I'm not open to being in a relationship with someone."

"Huh?" You blurt out. "But how are you supposed to be in a relationship with someone if you don't meet someone to date them first?"

Alhaitham is patient with you despite your growing frustration. It is so obvious he has connected the dots and is waiting for you to catch up. "I don't need to date," he says, "because I already met someone I'm interested in being with. I don't need to meet new people."

"Wait, what?" You gape. "Who?"

The face that Alhaitham gives you is by far the most unimpressed he has ever looked. You feel like punching it a little. You cross your arms, huffing.

"Give me hints or something," you say, clicking your tongue in annoyance. "Do I know them?"

"Very well," Alhaitham replies, sidling close to you that your arm can feel his body heat.

"Are they from our high school?"

"Yes."

"Really?" You gasp. "Well, we have your friends-"

"They are also your friends."

"-and my friends, which are yours..." You trail off, feeling your face warm and your heart rise to your throat. You can't be hopeful, you think. It is such a dangerous thing when you assume, but you think about who Alhaitham has befriended, who he is still friends with, and who he is closest to. The best answer you keep arriving to is yourself.

Is it too arrogant of you to think that it's you that Alhaitham wants to be with?

"No, it's not prideful to think it's you if it's true," Alhaitham says, and you wonder if you said it aloud. That thought is quickly discarded in favor of thinking over Alhaitham's words. Your heart feels fit to burst, lips wobbly without your permission. His eyes soften when he looks at you then, hand raising to cup your cheek.

"I like you," Alhaitham tells you. "I want to be more than friends."

"More than friends with benefits?" You can't help but ask, and you laugh through the sudden tears when Alhaitham scoffs before pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, way more than that," he says quietly. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. "I've always wanted more with you."

You sniffle, grinning. "Good thing I asked you then, huh?" You let put a shriek of laughter when Alhaitham pins you down, arms caging you in and making you feel nothing but safe. He looks at you then, eyes full of affection that you wonder how you could have ever missed that before.

"You want to retry from earlier?" Alhaitham asks, pulling your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"I won't lie," you say, laughing when Alhaitham nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. "That talk took a chunk of my energy. I kind of want to nap and cuddle. With you! Besides," you say, shifting so that Alhaitham can join you on the coach, the two of you as close as you can be, "we have all the time in the world to do new things together." You turn to look him in the eyes and hopes he sees how much you adore him in equal amounts.

"I can wait," you say, and Alhaitham leans to kiss you.

It is not the last time he does so.

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #written all on my PHONE thats how down bad i was to write this

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stayinlimbo · 26 days

Text

Returned Call

wc: 765, genre: exes to lovers(?), warnings: cursing in beginning, slightly unedited

note: although i feel this could be read as a stand-alone, here is the sequel to Missed Call you guys were asking for. i hope you enjoy ♡

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system: You know. Lee Minho. Not available. Voicemail. Speak.

Fuck you, Lee Minho. No, seriously, fuck you.

Tell me why I was contacted by not one but three of your dancing buddies within the past twenty-four hours about how you’ve been moping around and trudging through your routines for the past week.

They were all essentially the same. You haven’t been the same since we broke up, is there any way we could reconnect, give you one more chance, blah blah blah.

You must be doing really bad if one of them was Hyunjin, of all people.

Two months too late, don’t you think?

As if any of this was my fault.

…

I was getting better before you called, you know?

I finally fixed my sleep schedule. I won’t lie, it took longer than I’d like to admit to break the habit of staying up late for you. At least I was already used to sleeping alone.

I reconnected with some old friends since I couldn’t talk to Jisung as much without being reminded of you. They can still read me like a book, even after all these years.

I even went on a date.

Granted, it was with myself, but I like to think it still counts.

…

You know what I realized on my “date?” And while out with my friends? And on the sleepless nights I spent staring up at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling?

I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be appreciated. To be loved.

It seems like you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re right. I deserved better. I deserve better. I may have ended our relationship, but I wasn’t the one who left first.

I remember our last kiss, paired with another one of your lies I foolishly kept believing in until I finished the movie night you promised you’d be home in time for. And I remember waking up on the couch with a sore neck to see your fatigued silhouette entering the front door, barely sparing me a glance as you dragged yourself towards the bedroom.

You didn’t even look sorry.

How could you, I guess, if you left everything back at the studio?

…

I used to admire your passion, Minho. I hate that I still do. You pour everything you have, everything you can possibly give, into what you love. So why couldn’t you do the same for us? For me?

You say you love me, but why does it feel like I lost something I'm not sure I ever had?

…

Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? I gave everything to you. I gave you my heart, my body, my entire being. I gave you everything until there was nothing left to give.

I never asked for anything outlandish. I think it’s reasonable to want to talk with your partner, to share your lives with one another. I think it’s reasonable to ask about when you’ll be home for our anniversary without being yelled at in front of your friends.

You want me to be proud of you? You want me to be happy about one of the very things that ripped us apart?

Yes, you’re selfish, but I’m no better.

…

Maybe this is my fault. After all, no one should feel obligated to love someone. I just never thought it’d apply to us.

…I wish I could hate you. I really do.

But all I see is your stupid face smiling at me when I close my eyes. I hear your laugh ringing in my ears when I remember the ways you said or did something ridiculous to make me feel better after a stressful day. I still feel the warmth of your body wrapped around mine when we did wake up next to each other, our legs entwined together to where it was impossible to escape. Not that I ever wanted to.

I want you to keep smiling at me. I want you to hold me. I want you to miss me. I want you to want me.

Because I still want you.

…

I want to give you a second chance, Minho. If things could be different this time, if we could be different. If we could share ourselves, wholeheartedly, as lovers, and not strangers.

I want to fall in love with you again, Lee Minho.

…

Call me back, when you get the chance. You can keep the shirts for now.

Just please, don’t make me regret this.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

ending note: I hope this didn't disappoint. I really tried my best to make it work with all the angst in here :D. I also tried incorporating parallels from Missed Call so hopefully that wasn't too annoying or anything <3

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bump1nthen1ght · 6 months

Text

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 21 (Tentacles)

Kink: Tentacle Sex

Pairing: Tentacle Monster x Male!Reader

Other Kinks: Roleplay

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1103 words

Kinktober Masterlist

“Oh my,” You gasp “-look at all this treasure! I guess I chose the right cave to explore. Just me, an adventurer all by myself.”

You cringe at your voice, hearing yourself repeated in the echoes across the cave walls. You were never the best actor, delivery a little too stiff and predictable. It doesn’t help that your improv is schlock, reciting the cheesiest lines from dirty books you’ve read in the past.

But the churring sounds around the corner suggest your lines, corny as they may be, are effective.

“I sure hope there's no big, strong monster protecting this treasure.” You call out, eyeing the nearby hiding hole. “It’d be such a shame, considering I’m all by myself,” You languidly bend over, pretending to look at the “treasure chest” in front of you, “-so defenseless.” Wiggling your hips, you turn toward the ‘chest’, popping open the top and pretending to coo at the fake bounty inside.

A satisfied smirk curls the sides of your lips when a familiar tentacle wraps around your ankle. Still playing as the oblivious adventurer, you ignore the creeping sensation that crawls up your pant leg, massaging your calf. You just wiggle your hips some more, pride and something else stirring in your gut when your partner churrs.

“Hmm, what's this?” You whine as another tentacle wraps around the opposite ankle, both quickly pushing up the bottom of your pants. “Oh no! A monster!” Your gasp is breathy and dramatic, paired with you throwing your hand to your forehead in woe. A thicker tentacle wraps around your waist, thoroughly ‘trapping’ you. “Let me go, foul beast!”

You fake slap the tentacle now pulling you towards your partner. Their chuckle reverberates against your skin.

Soon you're pulled into a rolling mass of tentacles, who don’t hesitate to fondle your body. Several crawl up your shirt, petting the skin and even flicking your nipples. Others easily undo the buttons of your trousers, quickly sneaking under the hem once your fly is down. You let out another breathy gasp, half real and half dramatic.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing?” With all the indignation of a primadonna, you wiggle and thrash in your partner's hold. In reality the act only stimulates you more, lets the tentacles wrap around your limbs and hold them in place. You lick your lips, watching several tentacles pull down your pants and underwear, releasing your cock.

“I’m gonna have fun with you, traveler.”

A shiver rolls down your spine, the normally stuttered and shy voice of your partner especially deep and lusty.

Damn, they are a good actor.

“Ah!” You gasp, really gasp, as a tentacle wraps around your shaft. It squeezes tight as it slowly moves up the head, the tip playing with your slit. Already hard in their grasp, your head begins weeping precum, which the tentacle gleefully smears all over it.

You almost break character when the tentacle slithers off your cock, a whiny “Why?” on your lips. But then the tentacle slides up to your partner's mouth. They lean their faux, shining purple face down and suck on their own appendage, eyes rolling back. After letting go with a ‘pop’, they lean down next to your ear.

“Delicious.” They purr, their entire form rumbling against you.

It takes all you can not to melt in their tentacles right then and there, still trying to put up a ‘fight’.

But your partner doesn’t give you the chance to break, a quick tentacle wrapping around your cock once more as another begins circling your hole. You gasp again, this time quickly silenced by another wayward tentacle, shoved down your throat.

“Your noises are so pretty.” Your partner chuffs. “But I want to explore all of these holes.”

Tears bubble at the corner of your eyes, feeling your throat gag from the new intrusion. But you tap three times on the tentacle, the signal you are good to go forward. It may have been sudden, but the penetration is far from unwelcome.

You can see your partner smirk from the corner of your eye. The tip circling your asshole oozes lube, leaving faintly buzzing trails in its wake. The tentacle around your cock begins oozing as well, some dripping down to your balls as it jerks at a steady pace. That familiar grape flavor touches your tongue, helping suppress the gag reflex and ease your mind a bit.

Your hole stretches slowly open, the lubed tentacle so gentle despite your partner’s dirty talk.

“I can’t wait to see you, all fucked open on me. Dripping with me.” A tentacle lovingly strokes your cheek. “Wait a treat you’ve given me, adventurer.” The easing tentacle hits your prostate, your lower half overwhelmed with sensations from both sides. “A brand new toy to play with.”

Your cock twitches in their grip as they begin to jerk you off faster, another tentacle from underneath coming to fondle your balls. You’re slowly emptied out as they withdraw the tentacle in your ass, before shoving it inside with an emphasized “Hmmp!” Your moans are muffled, stuffed from the appendage still in your mouth, which stays still. Something you’re thankful for, as you’re not sure you have the brain power to fellate them properly.

Your legs spasm and shake, held up in mid air by two tentacles. You can see your toes curling, feel the electric shocks as they fuck you open. The tentacle stroking you keeps you on edge, going fast for some seconds and lingering on your head for others, playing with your sensitive spot underneath. Your balls tighten in their grasp, eyes rolling back into your head as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

“Are you gonna cum?” Your partner pants, that more familiar desperation coming back to their voice. “Cum from my tentacles? All strung up, like a proper cum-slut?” They lick theit faux-tongue up the side of your face, tasting salty tears. “You came here for treasure, yet here you are— Some monster’s bitch.”

The snarl in their voice is enough to send you over the edge. Nearly numb from overstimulation, your cock jerks and semen shoots into ready tentacles. They lap at it like thirsty tongues, letting the cum drizzle over several as they fondle your cock.

The cavern floor is cool on your face, slowly lowering onto your stomach as tentacles leave your more sensitive parts. The ooze on your skin sinks in like a relaxant, your partner making sure to keep you comfortable.

“D-did you like that?” They pant in your ear.

You give them a lazy thumbs up.

“We’re definitely doing that again.”

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #monster romance #male reader insert #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #tentacle monster x reader

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batrachised · 5 months

Text

Watching Anne of Avonlea (through sheer determination and after a series of events that involved unsuccessfully digging through the website's source code, I managed to rent it), and it strikes me how (in this instance, similarly to the book), Anne repeatedly crushes any romantic advancements on Gilbert's part. In the book, Anne avoids being alone with Gilbert and begs him not to propose to her. It makes me wonder: why did Gilbert think proposing to her would work? Is it because he wanted a sense of finality? Because he did genuinely think he had a chance? He does say this:

“There isn’t anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I’ve deceived myself, that’s all. Goodbye, Anne.”

This implies that he did think a yes was possible. Yet I find this difficult to believe, because while we all know Anne does in fact care that way for Gilbert and doesn't know it yet, Anne has also been pretty blunt about how she doesn't think she does. Anne of the Island's first chapters are filled with Anne thinking about how awkward walks with Gilbert are now, or with her crushing any overtures he makes. Exhibit:

Gilbert suddenly laid his hand over the slender white one lying on the rail of the bridge. His hazel eyes deepened into darkness, his still boyish lips opened to say something of the dream and hope that thrilled his soul. But Anne snatched her hand away and turned quickly. The spell of the dusk was broken for her. “I must go home,” she exclaimed, with a rather overdone carelessness. “Marilla had a headache this afternoon, and I’m sure the twins will be in some dreadful mischief by this time. I really shouldn’t have stayed away so long.” She chattered ceaselessly and inconsequently until they reached the Green Gables lane. Poor Gilbert hardly had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

[Gilbert asks] “And after those four years—what?” “Oh, there’s another bend in the road at their end,” answered Anne lightly. “I’ve no idea what may be around it—I don’t want to have. It’s nicer not to know.

“I wonder if I can ever make her care for me,” he thought, with a pang of self-distrust.

“If I had my way I’d shut everything out of your life but happiness and pleasure, Anne,” said Gilbert in the tone that meant “danger ahead.” “Then you would be very unwise,” rejoined Anne hastily. “I’m sure no life can be properly developed and rounded out without some trial and sorrow—though I suppose it is only when we are pretty comfortable that we admit it. Come—the others have got to the pavilion and are beckoning to us.”

Anne was never attended by the crowd of willing victims who hovered around Philippa’s conquering march through her Freshman year; but there was a lanky, brainy Freshie, a jolly, little, round Sophomore, and a tall, learned Junior who all liked to call at Thirty-eight, St. John’s, and talk over ’ologies and ’isms, as well as lighter subjects, with Anne, in the becushioned parlor of that domicile. Gilbert did not love any of them, and he was exceedingly careful to give none of them the advantage over him by any untimely display of his real feelings Anne-ward.

The only set up we get is this:

Gilbert, to be sure, was still faithful, and waded up to Green Gables every possible evening. But Gilbert’s visits were not what they once were. Anne almost dreaded them. It was very disconcerting to look up in the midst of a sudden silence and find Gilbert’s hazel eyes fixed upon her with a quite unmistakable expression in their grave depths; and it was still more disconcerting to find herself blushing hotly and uncomfortably under his gaze, just as if—just as if—well, it was very embarrassing.

My guess is that based on the paragraph above, Gilbert thought he had a chance - that and his line about how "things can't go on like this any longer." It's still odd to me in the context of the larger pattern of behavior though. Not in a bad way, more in a "tumblr, please provide your thoughts because batrachised's brain cell has quit its job without notice" way

#i am slowly absorbing myself in shirbert #time to dig into this #aogg #anne of the island #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert

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lynzishell · 3 months

Text

Prev // Next

Transcript:

Dr. Garza: Dawn, maybe we should— Dawn: Just give him one more minute. He said he’d be here, he’ll be here. Dr. Garza: Okay, but I do have another appointment after this. We can’t wait much longer. Dawn: I understand. I’m sure he’s close.

Phoenix: Hi. Dawn: There you are. Where have you been? Phoenix: Traffic, I’m sorry, I got here as fast as I could.

Dr. Garza: Let’s go ahead and get started. I’ve looked over your lab results, and everything looks great. I have a copy for you to look over, and I’m happy to answer any questions if you have them, but I don’t see anything concerning. Dawn: Ok, great. Dr. Garza: Now, I understand you wanted to discuss fertility options, and the possibility of IVF? Dawn: That’s right.

Dr. Garza: Well, I’m afraid we can’t pursue that at this time because, according to your bloodwork… Dawn, you’re already pregnant. Dawn: I’m sorry, what? Phoenix: Are you sure? Dr. Garza: I’m sure.

Dawn: I don’t understand. I haven’t felt… I’m not sick. Last time I was so sick. Dr. Garza: Symptoms can vary between pregnancies. Your circumstances now are also very different now than they were then. And you may still develop symptoms. Dawn: Right. So, do we know if… I mean, what are the chances... [voice cracks] I’m sorry. Dr. Garza: [handing Dawn a tissue] It’s okay. Given your history, I’ve booked the ultrasound so we can check on the health of the baby today and get an idea of how far along you are. I have no reason to believe there’s anything wrong at this point, okay?

[Dawn nods, wiping her eyes]

Dr. Garza: Like last time, we’ll do a transvaginal ultrasound. You’ll want to empty your bladder, and then undress from the waist down. I’ll leave a gown here for you and be back in a few minutes. Dawn: Okay. Thank you.

Dawn: You’re awfully quiet. Are you okay? Phoenix: Yeah. Just nervous. Are you okay? Dawn: I think so. I can’t believe we’re here again. How fertile are you? Phoenix: [laughs] We’ve been having unprotected sex for like four years and you’ve gotten pregnant twice. I don’t think that speaks highly of my fertility. Dawn: It does for me. Phoenix: I guess.

Dr. Garza: Are you ready? Dawn: I’m ready. Dr. Garza: Great. This will be a little cold, but just try to relax. If you experience any pain or discomfort, or if you want to stop at any time, just let me know, okay? Dawn: Okay.

Dawn: Is this really happening? Phoenix: [sniffles] Yeah, it’s really happening.

Dawn: I can’t believe it. We’re going to have a baby.

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt3 #phoenix realta #dawn stephens #noelle garza by GiGiCreatesSims #cw fertility #cw medical #cw pregnancy

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callie-the-creator · 7 months

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levi nsfw hcs

nsfw. mdni.

author’s note: this is a bit short, but i tried to make up for it by making each part a bit thick. i guess it would be a fair assessment that i got a little too carried away with myself as well. 😅

• PLEAAAASE BRO..

• levi is a simple man. he knows what he likes. with that being said…missionary is his go-to position, but before you all run to the comments to tell me otherwise, i’ll have you know that he’s a sucker for cowgirl.

— …do with that information as you please.

— he also likes eating you out whenever he gets the chance, but that’s another story entirely.

• for a man that hates messes, he doesn’t mind making a mess…out of you. it’s a bit, ironic, isn’t it? but this won’t spare you from his degrading comments, no siree.

— “tsk, you got my favorite shirt dirty…you really are a dirty whore, you know that?”

• if you would like, he could treat you like nothing as he fucks you senseless but pamper you afterward like you’re a queen (if this isn’t your bag, levi has no problem with that. he likes praising you anyway).

• speaking of aftercare, levi is a big sleeper. he will try his best to stay awake, but after five minutes give or take, he’s out for the next hour or so…🥹

• i do think levi has a slight fetish about making love out in the open, especially out in the woods. you didn’t expect this from the captain of all people because for starters, he’s a germaphobe and the idea of it all seemed a bit too primal for his taste.

— lesson learned: never judge by a book by its cover, no matter how misleading it may be. ✍️

• levi’s libido is really to each their own. i would say that he is adaptable. it is fairly low when you two are on expeditions because he knew that he will have to be more on his guard just in case the shit were to hit the fan. and this doesn’t mean that you two don’t have sex at all; levi prefers to do it when he knows no one will be around. but if you two are within the safety of the walls, well…that’s another story.

— sadly, he hasn’t experienced much intimacy in his time, so he doesn’t know how to ask for it.

• after the thunder spear incident with zeke, levi shrunk back into his shell and intimacy between you two dramatically decreased because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to pleasure you like he used to…

— this made him incredibly insecure.

— you do have to reassure him that his facial disfigurement doesn’t make him some sort of monster. you practically shower him in compliments to really ram in the idea that it wasn’t going to bother you, nor did it ever. if anything, you’re just pissed off at he nearly got himself killed by that hairy bastard.

“it’s fine, two fingers is all i need.”

— if there’s a will, there’s a way, right?

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acourtofthought · 6 days

Note

I don't know if I'm being petty, but I like to think that some of Elain's actions toward Azriel are just foreshadowing for Elucien's dynamic. For example, Lucien is very thoughtful about his choices for Elain's gifts, and Elain is invested in the presents she gives to others, including Azriel, even if it's in the form of a prank. This makes me think that receiving gifts will be one of their main love languages.

The scene where Elain called Azriel's scars beautiful could mean that if Lucien still holds any insecurities regarding his scars, it'd be no problem at all for his mate to help him realize how gorgeous he is, inside and out.

And, most of all, the theme of choice would fit so much better in an Elucien romance. I mean, Azriel isn't the one banned from two courts, prohibited to see his mother, exiled in a strange land, the one who has only two humans (who will die in a few decades compared to a fae immortal life) as his only friends, and he's definitely not the one being ignored by his mate and fearful of her rejection. If there's a character who deserves (plot-wise) to be chosen, it's definitely Lucien.

Besides, it would make so much sense with Elain's and Lucien's characters and with the development of their relationship. The fact that Lucien respects her time and space (or his passivity, as some like to call it) allows Elain to make the choice of pursuing the bond when she feels comfortable and secure enough. She'd also have more agency than her sisters in the beginning of their relationships.

But these are just thoughts.

Thank you for your blog and your theories and thoughts. You make me feel hopeful not only for an Elucien's endgame, but also that they really have the chance to get the next book. You have been a light in the end of this three-years-length tunnel.

P.S. I also have a guess that the announcement will be on May 1st. Hope we are right!

Also, the scene where Elain called Az's scars pretty could actually have been Elain calling his siphons pretty because Feyre wasn't sure what she was looking at.

However, I do agree that Elain is going to find Lucien's face devastatingly handsome and the reason for that kind of ties into her mother. Which sounds weird but I'll try to explain.

Her mother made assumptions about her, that she did not dream beyond her pretty dresses and gardens and that she would marry for love and "beauty". So of course, Elain tried to follow those expectations, getting engaged to exactly who her mother would have imagined for her.

I know Elain loved Graysen and probably found him handsome but he seems cookie cutter. Even Feyre said, he was sort of the human ideal of a lord come to sweep a maiden off her feet.

Lucien's face isn't perfect. He's handsome no doubt but he has long hair (no proper mother would approve of that), a scar running down his face and his eye. He is not the image of a baby faced Lord set to inherit his fathers estate someday. He's cruelly beautiful and looks dangerous and, we're all human here, that's going to thrill the "good girls" which everyone assumes Elain to be. Graysen is the kind of guy you have missionary sex with while the lights are out. Lucien is the kind of guy you are willing to do anything, anywhere with and that's probably a bit overwhelming for Elain given her upbringing. Right now, she's still stuck in the past, how she was raised, the kind of guy her mother proclaimed she would marry rather than embracing what lights her up like a pinball machine but I have no doubt once she does break free she's going to make sure he knows exactly how appealing she finds him because of the scars, the hair, the eye. Because of how it all comes together.

And I agree regarding the gifts! I think we see bits of Elain's personality around members of the IC but she never fully blooms, it's like a quick flash then it's gone. I could see Elain and Lucien teasing one another on regular days, silly gifts, sweet little gifts, but the important days I think will be when they reserve the really thoughtful, heartfelt gifts for.

With choice, I wonder if it's so much about that as fight.

(that sounds weird too but I wasn't sure how to word it).

What I mean by that is Lucien was chosen by Jesminda. He was chosen by Tamlin. He was chosen by many friends of which we're told he has many. He was chosen by the LoA as her favorite son. The problem is nobody fought to keep him.

The same with Elain. She was chosen by Graysen, she was "chosen" by Azriel, she was chosen by the chef and servants who wanted to do nice things for her, she was chosen by her many friends. But, none of them fought for her either. When things got hard they walked away.

Lucien and Elain are parallel in that they're just accepting life as it happens to them, trying to accept that when one door closes (to their dismay) and another opens, they roll with it even if they're not happy. They haven't learned to fight for themselves, possibly because they are used to not being fought for and as a result they try not to ask for much because they realize how expendable they are to others.

But in their book, I think they'll push past that to fight for what they do want and they will fight for one another. Lucien has been doing that so far when it comes to Elain. He is the one person who despite the odds did not walk away from her. Graysen gave up after Elain was turned. Az gave up easily, moved right onto feeling calm because of another female, admiring another female, thinking of another females eyes light up, even though Elain was probably upset after his rejection for the simple fact that any rejection hurts. But Lucien though he hasn't pushed her, has quietly fought for her for two years, by showing that he is still loyal to her and only her. And I imagine we'll also see Elain begin to fight for Lucien. Fighting against those who have wronged him, fighting for him to understand that he's not guilty for Jesminda's death or what happened to Feyre, etc.

Your last paragraph before the P.S. (May 1, May 1!!!) was so incredibly sweet and I wish I had better words to thank you for it.

I hope you have a fantastic day and I appreciate your message!

#elain archeron #elucien #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro elain archeron #pro lucien vanserra #elucien supremacy #elain x lucien #elucien headcanon #character deep dive

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butterflydm · 4 months

Text

More s3 hints from interviews (day 2 & Josha!)

@markantonys linked me to a masterthread of More Interviews (twitter.com/GradeKangusBeef/status/1736788980006330448), which I have scoured for more s3 hints, lol. The twitter thread is being updated as they appear, so I definitely recommend the thread as a whole.

From a screenrant interview with Zoë:

Are there any future events or character moments from the books that you know about that you’re excited to get into?

Zoë Robins: Yes, definitely. I’m going to have to tread very carefully, but there’s a moment in season three that I think Wheel of Time book readers will be very, very happy about. It was incredibly exciting to shoot. I think that’s all I can say.

Guessing this will be the Nynaeve-Moghedien confrontation! The word 'exciting' makes me lean that way -- though we may get other key scenes from the books like Lan giving her his ring, not sure that would count as 'incredibly exciting to shoot' and would more likely be described as tender or sweet.

From one with Daniel:

One thing that is less present in the show so far compared to the books is Lan being kind of a mentor figure for Rand. Is there a chance we’ll get a little more of that as the show progresses?

Daniel Henney: I would say that I personally would not bet against it. I'm being shipped off in two months to a place very far away to shoot some really incredible stuff where I have to be in very good shape. I'm eating tree leaves and protein shakes, and I'm in a double training schedule right now, which could include some of the stuff you're talking about.

Another hint that we'll be getting Lan training Rand next season.

From a Dónal one from screenrant; this isn't about s3 but it's sweet:

Dónal Finn: It's great. I love the character very much for that reason. It’s a very human experience that when you're watching, you can go, “I can identify with that, because that person is trying to use levity and humor and lightness to make ease of someone else's difficult situation.” Even though it often can feel like he's kind of punching up or trying to jeer at Rand or something, he knows that it comes from a place of, like, “God, there's so much hard stuff going on for Rand in every day of his life that he needs somebody to do that.” Otherwise, when we meet him in Cairhien, if he doesn't have that—if he doesn't have Mat at that place—he may not laugh, and that's just really crap for your best friend.

I love this point here. I don't think I even realized how miserable as a baseline Rand was this season until we got that contrast of his reunion with Mat. We may be getting that dynamic continuing into s3.

Kate Fleetwood with dragonmount:

KF: Lots of things happen in Season Three... yeah… they sat me down and were like, “This is what we are planning for you in Season Three.” I was, whoaa! Ok…

Very vague, but interesting! I wonder if Liandrin will be a tug-of-rope between Moghedien and Lanfear next season, because Lanfear snagged her from Ishamael but Moggy might snag her from Lanfear.

The tiniest of s3 hints from Ayoola:

AS: A combination of things, I think like, it’s the writers and it is Naomi, my dialect coach, and I kind of spoke about that, it is that humor that the Aiel have that's kind of, can catch you off guard and isn't necessarily funny to everyone but they find it amusing… just where that hits I think and just kind of the situations and we're able to play with that and bring that in. Also, Aviendha is kind of a little bit more cheeky than some of the other Aiel that we will encounter and kind of her humor is very much part of who she is. Just kind of playing around with that, and it just, it just came out and felt right.

We're gonna meet some serious Aiel in s3. Not a surprise, but good to hear!

Madeleine talked to decider.com:

So far what we know about next season is it’s going to be hugely inspired by The Shadow Rising. We’re going to see Rhuidean and Tel’aran’rhiod. Egwene is now coming out of being a damane. You know, is there anything about her experience with the Seanchan that might influence how she handles, say, another hard, foreign culture like the Aiel? Absolutely. Look, I think even from Season 1, we see that Egwene’s truly been a novice of the world and is fascinated with what is out there and what other people can teach her and what other cultures can teach her. I think she’s sort of taken little bits of the Two Rivers, the White Tower, the Seanchan… And, you know, she goes on this journey to the Aiel Waste and ultimately will, no doubt, learn a lot there as well. So I think she’s just like a big sponge for the world and wants to learn.

Confirmation that Egwene is going to the Aiel Waste, which makes sense, given that's her TSR plotline. Also, Egwene as a big sponge for the world and constantly learning is just... absolute 100% Egwene.

Josha talked to looper.com:

For Rand, Season 2 was about finding himself and realizing that he can't run away from it. He needs to do it with the people he loves. Season 3 is finally time for facing what he has to face. He's owning that prophecy more, and we see glimpses of why Rand is the Dragon Reborn and why he'll end up where he needs to end up. As that evolution's taking place, what do you do to get into character as this character is evolving? I'm very lucky that I have 14 books, which I have read, and that has given me a lot. I really understand Rand, and it's a lot of things. It's the conversations I have with Rafe [Judkins], the directors, and the writers. It's playing with all these amazing actors. It's the sets. Everything feels so real, and at the end of Season 3, we go to South Africa for two months, and being in that environment, all those things added up together, that helps you to get into the character.

Very exciting! We know that South Africa is Rhuidean, I believe, so very exciting to hear.

Also, Season 3, that keeps on going, and that is a very interesting area to explore because Lanfear is the Devil, and you can't love the Devil. It feels at times that Lanfear is the only one that really understands Rand, and because Rand is often very lonely in what he feels and sees, it seems like, at times, he can't express it to anyone else, and she's exactly what he needs — but she's the devil. That was very interesting for us to explore, and I secretly hope that Rand and Lanfear marry, but I don't think that will happen.

lol @ Josha. Anyway, yes, they're going to be exploring Lanfear trying to tempt/manipulate Rand more in s3, sounds like, so she isn't going to pay attention to Moghedien's warning for too long.

Again, without spoilers, what's next for Rand and the Emond's Field Five heading into Season 3? What can we expect? That's a good question. What can you expect for Season 3 without getting into spoilers? Well, they're together again. There is way more togetherness than in Season 2. That's exciting. It is fun to follow all of you guys, but there's a lot more momentum when you're all together. That's also quite hard for them, because these main characters all need to become something eventually. Because they are so close, it also creates some inner conflict. Rand, for example — if someone has been to your first birthday parties, it is very hard to become the most powerful channeler in the world and also the most dangerous man in the world, because they know your parents and they know who you were. That is one of the struggles they're facing now that they're together at the start of Season 3.

I would like to paste that last sentence from his first answer directly into the brains of everyone at reddit who believes that s3 is going to start with everyone all split up into separate plotlines and we're not going to get any group interactions.

Great answers from Josha in this one!

Screenrant also talked to him:

How do you interpret Rand’s relationship with Egwene in season 2? It’s romantic in the first season; do you feel like there’s a thread of that still there?

Josha Stradowski: I think a thread of that romantic relationship is definitely still there, because it gives this feeling of home for the both of them. They have been to each other's birthday parties. I think that is, on a human level, very [much] what they both need. But I think it also might transition to something else; more like a brother/sister kind of love. But that’s season three, maybe.

I'm really glad they asked him about Egwene!

Rand only reunites with his friends from the Two Rivers at the end of the season, and we haven’t seen how they are around him [after] knowing that he’s the Dragon yet. Can you say anything about what that dynamic is for season 3? Are they afraid of him?

Josha Stradowski: I think for all the main characters, they get what they need, and that is each other, but for all of them comes the internal conflict that they also feel like they need to become something else. It's like this growing pain, and I think Rand has that quite a lot. I feel like he wants to be there for his friends, he knows that he needs to be there for them to protect them, and the other way around as well, but he also needs to become the most dangerous men alive. How can you do that with someone that knows your dad, or the girl who kissed you for the first time? I don't know if that's Egwene, but in my head it is. So, I feel like they all struggle with this growing pain, but you see why they are friends, and you see why they are together; why they are the main characters of this story.

More that implies that we're going to be seeing EF5 interactions before they split up.

Collider also talked to him:

I've been reading the books, as well, and I think that's one of the sadder parts of Rand's journey, as you see how he's viewed through other characters, and the sadness of them reconciling their memories of him with the person that he now is kind of forced to become. Speaking of love relationships, though, I talked to Ceara and Rafe about Rand and Elayne's first meeting. What was important to capture in hinting at what this relationship is going to be, as well as the surprise of that connection? It feels like these are two people looking at each other for the first time and thinking, “You're going to be someone special.” STRADOWSKI: Yes. And that's what I take away, quite often, from the books as well. I have that with Selene, for example. There are a lot of moments where Rand can't get a word out of his mouth because he's so in shock at the beauty of this woman in front of him — and we didn't really have that with Selene, not like that in the TV show, but we did have it for Elayne. It's, like you said, a hint of what it could be, but I feel like it's subtle. It's a gradual thing which needs to be organic, and we might have some of that in Season 3, but I can't spoil that.

He talks a lot more openly about Selene/Lanfear in general -- which makes sense, because that's the relationship that was on the screen in front of us, while the Elayne relationship is gonna have a lot more spoilers involved -- but we get this hint here and I like hearing that the plan for Rand & Elayne is to be gradual and organic (which will be a big contrast to how the Rand/'Selene' relationship was introduced).

I will point out that Josha seems pretty careful overall about spoilers, mostly talking about things pretty vaguely and with ambiguity, so it feels like part of why he's talking about Lanfear so much is because she's one of the few things he's allowed to openly talk about at this point.

Lan training Rand is something that I think fans are excited to see, so I'll ask you the same question that I asked Daniel: can we look forward to that in Season 3? STRADOWSKI: What did Daniel say? He said he's back on the Warder diet, but then he also referenced your recent Instagram post and said that he needs to trim up to stand next to you. STRADOWSKI: Well, you can tell him I'm on the Dragon diet. Like you said, I'm also very excited to finally see some Lan/Rand swordfighting. I think it's time.

It cracks me up that Josha feels out how much Daniel might have spoiled before he says anything.

#wot s3 speculation #wot speculation #wot #wheel of time #wot on prime #wot s2 spoilers #wot 2x8 spoilers #wot book spoilers #the fires of heaven #we're supposed to get more interviews dropped tomorrow i think #but i am also leaving to go visit family for the holidays tomorrow #so i may or may not be able to look through them #depending on when they get released

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j3ss3jam3s85 · 17 days

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Evidence of Exodus

Many often wonder if there is any factual evidence proving the Bible being true. What if I told you that not only can I point you to strong evidence of the old testament Exodus being real, I can point you to a person in Exodus who has a real life replica of himself. Being possibly the only person mentioned in the Bible that we can truly see how they appeared. (With the exception of Vladimir Putin's recent 2024 claim that he has an original painting of Jesus Christ that has been in Russia).

bNow, if you're not familiar with the book of Exodus (chapters 1-14), I suggest you taking a moment to read it. Otherwise, what I'm about to say may not make much Sense. Or, read this and then read Exodus, and things might make more sense to you as it's being read. Either way, I highly recommend reading it.

Archeologically, we're able to prove many things within the Bible, however, Exodus is not one of them. Matter of fact, some of the things are extremely questionable. For example, where are all these Israelites coming from mentioned? There are no records of a man named Moses in Egypt. Many movies depict the enslaved Israelites were building the pyramids, however, The pyramids were built long before the Israelites were enslaved. There are many things that people question in the book of Exodus, you might as well. Maybe I can help with any doubt that you may have. In hopes to open your eyes as to the possibility that these things really could have, and did indeed happen.

Let's go back to the story of Joseph. Joseph is one of the 12 sons of Jacob, also named Israel. (Remember God changed his name to Israel because of his faith in willing to sacrifice his son). They fell into a Great famine Aunt resources grew very slim, so they went searching for a better life elsewhere. Can you guess where they ended up? That's right, Egypt! This is where we get "The children of Israel", also known as, the Israelites.

Joseph's gift from God was the ability to interpret dreams. In doing so, he was able to interpret the Pharaoh's dream which ultimately helped save Egypt from a great famine. So how did his people, his family, end up in bondage? Answer is, the Israelites were living and the delta and we're living a pretty prosperous existence. Up until the moment a new pharaoh becomes in charge. This Pharaoh knows nothing about Joseph. For none other than narcissistic reasons, the new pharaoh is upset that the Israelites are living such a lavish life. He ordered task masters to watch over them, which is when they became enslaved. This Pharaoh is historically documented saying to his midwives, "watch the two stones." Meaning, Egyptian women often give birth while sitting straight up to let gravity help them with the birthing process. Often, they would sit on two stones to help assist them during labor. This correlates with the Bible when pharaoh ordered the death of all the Israelite males that were being born. This is around the time that Moses was born. With Moses's mom afraid of him being murdered, she sent him away, down the river, for a chance at life.

Another questionable biblical text says that the pharaohs daughter finds Moses and the river and takes him in as her own. An Egyptian naming their child Moses, which is Hebrew is not very likely. Leaving some skepticism. Let me push that skepticism aside.

Remember, Moses is sent down river, so when he's found, he's found in the reeds. Now the Hebrew word massa (משא) means brought out. However Moses, Moses is actually a pure Egyptian name, which means Born. Just think about Ra-Moses, Ra means God and Moses means birth in Egyptian, God is Born. Another common Egyptian term is Toth-Moses. So therefore, just because the name Moses doesn't appear as someone's name being an actual person, it does not mean he did not exist. Moses literally means birth and Egyptian. Something someone would say or call a newborn baby.

Moses later has an encounter with God through a burning bush. God tells Moses that he is going to be the one to help set the Israelites free and lead them into the promised land. Moses, brings his brother Aaron with him to go speak to the pharaoh. Moses performs many miraculous wonders and so do the pharaohs magic wielders. So it's like they're in competition for a moment. Moses has a staff and he throws it down and it turns into a snake. Then Pharaoh has his people throw a staff and they also turn into snakes. It was almost like this was something that they've seen before, and we're unimpressed. Now you can take it exactly how it was written and think that a staff was thrown down and turned into a snake and both parties were able to do so. What I think happened is, the staff happened to be a cobra snake that was stiff like a staff with the head as the handle. When you throw the snake down onto the ground it then is able to slither away. This is a known practice and Egypt then and even today which would explain why people wouldn't be impressed. Moses and Aaron came back time and time again with 9 different plagues. Trying to convince Pharaoh to let his people go. Pharaoh gets annoyed and Now orders that the Israelites are no longer going to be given prepared straw to mix with their bricks. Leaving them to cut their own straw to mix with clay in order to make their own bricks. Giving double work with the same deadline. None of the plagues presented so far didn't seem to phase the Egyptians whatsoever. By this point, God says enough is enough and lets the pharaoh know that if he does not cooperate, he will take all the firstborns of families who do not have a blood sacrifice over their door frame. Of course Pharaoh did not take this threat seriously, so there was no blood sacrifice and he ended up losing his son. This is what makes pharaoh say okay, You can have your freedom, you can go.

When the Israelites leave, the Egyptians are all mourning the deaths of their firstborns. So, when the Israelites asked for gold and silver upon leaving, they just handed it over with no issues. So the Israelites are able to leave rich with gold and silver. Rightfully so in my opinion. They just spent approximately 430 years, in slavery and are now heading to the promised lands.

As the Israelites were on their way, Pharaoh quickly changed his mind and decided to go after the Israelites and bring them back. This is when the famous part of Exodus happens that most people are familiar with. Did the Israelites really cross the Red Sea on dry land? While the Egyptians get swallowed whole by the water? There is a lot of skepticism about rather or not they truly did part the Red Sea.

Here the Israelites are leaving on foot with all this gold and silver. We know that they lived in the Delta part of Egypt so we can kind of figure out the route that they took. They don't take the Philistine route because Palestine is highly guarded with watchtowers. So what they do is go through the marsh. Now the misconception lies with where exactly they crossed at. Which they actually crossed through the Sea of Reeds and not the Red Sea. Now in the Bible it says that Pharaoh's chariots were clogged. Sounds like they were going through mud. If you ask me. Which if I'm on foot I can get through but if I'm in a chariot I cannot. So Pharaoh's men ended up perishing while God helped the Israelites make it through safely.

In playing devil's advocate, if this story is true then why is there no record other than what is mentioned in the Bible of this particular situation? The answer is Egyptians were horrible at record keeping in general. Their record keeping is mainly made up of what is written in tombs or on Stella's. Which never mentioned anything about any of their defeats. Egyptians only kept records of victories. Honestly, this entire situation only really mattered to the Israelites. No one else really cared. But this was the beginning of their entire religion.

Biblically they never say who the pharaoh actually was. Historically, Egypt didn't even have a pharaoh at this time. Who ever was in charge would technically be a king. So where does the Bible get Pharaoh from? It's actually a conjunction of 2 Egyptian words, that meant house, great. Which Pharaoh meant the one who lived in a great house. Fitting for someone living in a palace.

A clue in the Bible as to who this pharaoh may be is when they speak of the Israelites building the store cities with bricks. Is it a coincidence that one of the cities names is Pi-Ramess? They are using bricks, which historically we can narrow down the time frame in which bricks began being used to build the storehouse in these 2 cities mentioned.

i'm going to agree with Bob Brier, an egyptologist who suggested the Pharaoh in the book of Exodus is...... Ramesses the Great. Why?

Ramesses' built his capitol right beside the Delta, which would be close enough to the Israelites. Especially during the times Moses and Aaron were traveling back and forth trying to convince him to let his people go. The Israelite slaves built the city of Ramesses out of brick and he was the one who built these cities. There is a sentence written on a Papyrus that explains grain ratios to be handed out to the soldiers and apperu (now I know I butchered inthe spelling of this word, but I spelled it the way it sounded). Which The translation is thought to mean Hebrew. Many scholars believe that this is our Israelites. Other scholars believe that Merneptah was the ruler over The Exodus. They believe this because the first time Israel is mentioned is during the reign of Merneptah, which is Rameses 13th son and his successor. However, when Merneptah mentions Israel on his Stella. It is referred to as a people and not a country or a foreign land. Meaning around this time the Israelites were still wondering. Therefore, if they are wandering at this time, that means they must have left right before he began his reign. Biblical scholars believe The Exodus happened in year 20 of rameses reign. Guess what else happens right around this time? Ramesses loses his firstborn son, Amonhirkhopshef.

In the Egyptian museum, you can now see the mummy of Ramesses the Great. Which very well may be the only face you can look upon that is a real biblical figure. I love it when science, history and the Bible correlate.

References:

Brier, Bob. The history of ancient Egypt. (2013). The great courses.

Exodus 1+14

#reading #my writing #spilled ink #books #writing #writeblr #exodus #bible #science #history #ancient egypt #moss #pj masks pharaoh boy

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fluffthecloud · 1 year

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Their Soulmate

Weasley Twins x Male Reader

Summary: Reader has a big soulmate mark on his back unlike other people who have a small one on their arm, but he never really cared. You are a Hufflepuff (sorry if you wanted to be in a different house)

Genre: Fluff

Request: ✖️

Warning: N/A

Notes: based on an Ao3 I tagged in the last part, also read the last part too to get an idea of where I left off.

Tags: @jasperthechaosgremlin @stucky4life1945 @smol-book-nerd

Pt 1 pt.3

It was the next day, there weren't any classes today to give the first years time to find their classes and to get a good feel of the school. Y/N, and the twins were just walking around together, they may be in different houses but after the train ride Y/N could not get rid of them.

"So, Y/N, what's your next class?" Fred asked peeking over your shoulder at your class list.

"Astronomy with Aurora Sinister." You said looking over at Fred, "why don't you guys go find your classes? It'll go a lot faster that way." You were confused about why they were following you around.

"Oh, isn't he just cute?" George teased looking at Fred then you, "all first years have the same classes just different schedules." George explained to you. This made you embarrassed to say the least, but then again you were the oldest(or only) child, and your parents never told you what Hogwarts was like.

"He is, George." Fred wraps his arm around your shoulder, "a lot of our classes stay the same for the first few years but that's about all we know."

You nod along, a bit confused but you understand most of it. None the less they made it to Y/N's next class and just took a look inside, "this place is really cool." You commented. Before you could get a chance to walk around you were being dragged out of the room by the twins.

As you exited the room, the three of you saw Percy, so you went up to him, "Hey Percy!" The twins say as they go up to him, you just wave at him, "guess what, Percy." George says as they walked down the hall.

"What is it?" Percy asked waving back at you.

"We share two of our classes with Y/N." Fred finishes the sentence, "we do share other classes with him, but only two with just all three of us." Fred added, he seemed really excited about that.

"Oh? Well what are those two classes?" Percy asked, smiling at his brothers excitement.

Notes: I would like you guys to pick the two classes they share, because it's always potions and that's boring but if you want that then so be it, but there is another class you can pick so there flavor. Also sorry that this is so short.

#george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x male reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x male reader #male reader #reader insert

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thesixenthusiast · 1 year

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ruby – eddie roundtree

part one (part two, part three, part four)

pairing: eddie rountree x fem!oc (may change to x reader) warnings: drinking/drugs (billy/daisy's addictions) word count: 1.6k author's note: please bear with me in this, if there's a few time mix ups just with the order of things, please do let me know but i'm trying to find an equal balance between the book and show and it's a little difficult lol

On October 4, 1977, Daisy Jones & The Six performed to a sold out crowd at Soldier Field in Chicago, Illinois. They were one of the biggest bands in the world at the time, fresh off their award-winning, multi-platinum selling album “Aurora.” It would be their final performance.

In the 20 years since, members of the band and their inner circle have refused to speak on the record about what happened… Until now.

–

THE RISE OF THE SIX (1966-1972)

The Six started out as a blues-rock band called the Dunne Brothers in the mid-sixties out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Billy and Graham Dunne were raised by single mother, Marlene Dunne, after their father, William Dunne Sr., left in 1954.

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): I always dreamed of something different than the typical laid out career paths. When Graham first got the idea to start a band, I assumed it was just to win back his girlfriend. He was, what fourteen? The kid thought his life was over. [Laughs] I guess in retrospect, maybe it was a good idea.

WARREN ROJAS (drummer, The Six): He was definitely trying to get his girlfriend back.

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): We were solid, fine for a while. When Chuck quit, we were out a bassist, which isn’t really something you can do without in a band. Billy originally wanted Eddie to switch to bass, but he wasn’t too keen on that.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE (rhythmic guitar, The Six): I was so sick of Billy trying to run the band, it wasn’t his band, or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be.

WARREN ROJAS: There was this girl in my math class, her uncle owned a music store downtown, and she used to give lessons to kids on weekends, it was mostly just some scheme by her uncle to get people to buy guitars.

BILLY DUNNE: She was a sophomore, a young sophomore at that, she wasn’t even 16 by the time she joined, I was a year out of high school and the rest of the boys are creeping on 17 and 18, she just didn’t fit. Warren gets all the boys on board before bringing the idea up to me so I look like the asshole if I say no, I wanted to say no too, but she was good and I didn’t have another option.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: She didn’t even show an interest in being in the band, she wasn’t begging us to give her a chance, we were near-stalking her at the music store, waiting for the perfect opportunity to hear her play and casually bring up that we happened to need a bassist.

JULIET OPAL (bassist/singer, The Six): They weren’t nearly as sly as they thought they were. I originally thought it was some attempt at stealing records or 8-tracks, y’know waiting until I wasn’t looking, but they kept coming back, seemingly just waiting for me to do something, what it was I didn’t know, but something.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: [Sighs] They decided I would be the one to talk to her.

The shop’s bell rang, signaling the door had been opened, which swung Juliet’s attention away from the magazine she was skimming and up to the front of the store, peering through the aisles to see who entered. A boy, one she recognized from the creeping on her from the previous weeks, made himself visible and she was immediately on high alert. He approached the counter, swallowing nerves as he did, and cleared his throat.

“Hi,” his voice was hoarse, she took the awkward silence as a moment to study him, he wore a striped shirt, loose jeans, and brown shoes, his hair could use a comb through. He extended his hand, “I’m Eddie, I think we go to school together.”

“Juliet,” she met his hand, “is that why you’re here, to tell me that we might go to school together? Or is there an ulterior motive, one that may explain why you and your friends have been spying on me the past week,” any speck of confidence Eddie had going into this was entirely gone.

“I’m in a band with some friends and our bassist bailed on us pretty recently. My friend, Warren, he’s a junior like me, I think he’s in your math class, said he saw you play bass and that you were good. We just wanted to see you play before we formally asked.”

“Formally asked what?” She leaned up from her elbows that she had been propped on.

“Oh, to, uh, like,” he stopped himself, licking his lips and sighing, “would you want to maybe play bass for us?” His eyes instantly went to his shoes and he stuffed his hands inside his pockets.

“Can I have a little more info maybe? It’s not personal, I just don’t know you, like at all and you could be the worst players for all I know.”

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: That one hurt, something about a younger kid who you have a solid five inches on insinuating that she’s better than you are, especially when you’re practically on your knees begging for her to help you out can feel like salt being rubbed into a fresh wound.

JULIET OPAL: What else was I supposed to do? [Laughs] Just blindly follow the older boy who had been spying on me for a week to the alleged garage that he practices in with his alleged band and hope for the best? I paid attention in the stranger-danger assemblies, I knew better.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I invited her back to Billy and Graham’s but she said she had to close up for her uncle. Once we were out in L.A. she told me she actually just didn’t wanna leave with me and in hindsight, I can’t say I blame her.

The following morning Juliet and the Dunne Brothers skipped their first period and met in the Dunne’s garage. Juliet studied the wads of scribbled sheet music Billy had handed to her without looking her in the eye and she didn’t miss the way Eddie rolled his eyes at his hostility, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her upper lip curled into a smile as she saw his reaction.

After rifling through the stack of papers, she picked out one at random, and set it down on the table in front of her, leaning over to scan in a few times before pulling the strap of her guitar over her head. She looked over to the group of boys, standing huddled together with Billy noticeably further away and Warren nodded fervently at her with a grin overtaking her face.

After she played through the song, Billy made her play another, and another, and two more after that ‘for safety.’ Once he had run out of excuses for her to keep playing, he asked her to step out of the garage so they could confer with each other. After seven minutes and two overheard “c’mon man”s from Warren, Juliet was invited back into the garage and to serve as a temporary bass for the band, just until Billy could come to his final decision.

JULIET OPAL: He was stubborn even then, I’m honestly surprised he let me in.

BILLY DUNNE: I didn’t want to let her in the band.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I wanted her in the band, I made sure Billy knew that.

JULIET OPAL: A week after I joined, we were playing a gig with the Winters.

The group stood backstage, listening to the music that was permeating into every corner of the room. Juliet stood sandwiched between Warren and Camila, listening to the band. They had a keyboardist, she caught Juliet’s eye once they had got backstage, when they finished playing and she got offstage, Juliet made a beeline for her, introducing herself.

“I’m Karen,” she introduced herself, “you play with these guys?”

“Mhm, I’m on bass right now, but in an ideal world I’d steal Eddie over there’s job,” she pointed to him and he smiled back, nodding his head up at her, unknowingly, “I won’t though, kinda like him, at least more than I do Billy,” Karen nodded, opening her mouth to excuse herself from the conversation, “y’know I’ve been saying we need a keyboardist.”

“Have you now?” That piqued her interest she stopped in her tracks and smirked over her shoulder.

“No,” she admitted, “but I’ve been thinking it.” Billy hollered her name, gesturing her over to the group, who were making their way onstage. She pulled a receipt with a phone number scribbled across it in black ink and handed it to Karen, “If you ever get sick of them, give me a call, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Do you always carry around drug store receipts with your phone number on them?”

“You never know who you might meet,” she shrugged and started sprinting towards the stage before calling out over her shoulder, “worked out this time. Wish me luck!”

KAREN SIRKO (keyboardist, The Six): She was so.. vivacious, so full of life. She apoke about a million miles a minute, if I wasn’t fully interested in what she was saying, I don’t think I would’ve caught a word of it. You have this young girl talking your ear off, she seems entirely sure of herself, but also still feels a need to prove to you that she deserves to be there.

JULIET OPAL: I liked Karen, how could I not? And based on the way events would play out, clearly I wasn’t the only one.

WARREN ROJAS: It was a great gig, Julie did great, not that we weren’t expecting her to, we were just worried about her, she had never done anything in front of a crowd before, but she did everything that actually counted right.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: On the drive home she sat next to me and she told me I played well, then she leaned in and kinda whispered and she thanked me. She thanked me for being the one to ask her to join because she would’ve said no to anyone else. [Smiles]

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree fanfiction #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones x reader #warren rhodes #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes x reader #graham dunne #billy dunne #camila dunne #eddie roundtree x oc #daisy jones #eddie roundtree smut

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espinosaurusrexex · 9 months

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The Trap - Introduction

Worlds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: Welcome to the apocalypse. This is the introduction to the new world you're about to enter. Let's see what your life is like. Do me a favor and be open, and maybe there'll even be a handsome stranger to meet...

a/n: so this is heavily influenced by The 100 and Love and Monsters and I guess also Maze Runner, if it seems chaotic at times, that’s because it is. With that being said: have fun reading i’d love to hear what you think

word count: 2.2k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death and misery, loneliness, dystopia, nuclear weapon and monster stuff, obnoxiously optimistic reader (give her a chance okay)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 10th 2039

Hey Book,

Here are the things that happened today:

found a new pen (that’s great because this one is running out)

watched the acid fog from the building with the tall glass roof (pretty dope if you ask me!)

went to the west border and saw new tracks

finally got the nose right on that Gordon Ramsey sketch (it’s finished, yay!)

gave Berty a makeover

The day has been pretty sweet. I’m thinking of going out tonight to watch the meteor shower. Hope I don’t die.

Anyway, see ya tomorrow!

~You know who :)

The notebook closed with a loud thud that made even you twitch. Your eyes went to the basketball on the shelf above the makeshift bed.

“Sorry, Berty.” The ball didn’t respond, obviously. Its plastic wig shifted slightly further over the marker eyes, making it seem all crooked and funny looking. You weren’t crazy. You just preferred not to talk to yourself.

A look at the window told you that it had gone dark by now. The weather conditions weren’t too great for another acid fog so your plan was good to go. You grabbed your backpack and headed out to the cliffs where you had the best view. Ever since the apocalypse started, there were a lot more stars visible at night. Half the population had been wiped out with the Hydra nukes and the rest played survivor with the mutated animals roaming the earth due to the atomic bombs that had been fired on that day.

You remembered it vividly actually: Bright beams shooting through the sky and then it rained down like hellfire. Green glowing stripes covered the horizon from where you looked down onto the city.

The world hadn’t been that great to begin with to be honest. People were suffering, water and food supplies had shifted into the negative, and don’t even get started on climate. Humans had collectively decided that their planet was going to waste anyway. So, where was the harm in a little more destruction, right?

It’s not like you or any other normal citizen had had a chance to decide on another outcome anyway. The united governments of the world had been infiltrated by an organization with fucked up values and no sense for common human decency. They didn't care that their bombs would wipe out half of the world’s population. Hell, you’d be surprised if they even considered this an argument for their ‘cons’ column. But, hey, it had one benefit after all: if this was the worst it could get, there was nothing left to lose.

You kicked open the door of the buried school bus that had become your temporary home for a while now. Temporary in the sense that there was no way of knowing what would happen or when something would attack. You tried to make them all as cozy as possible though. Berty was a big part of that attempt. The painted basketball had become a loyal companion in your ever-shifting habitats. And even though it was a pain to transport a so unfortunately shaped object, you would never dare leave it behind.

The humid evening air hit you like a broken fan. It was springtime, but that had stopped to matter many years ago. The weather merely shifted between scorching hot days and bearable nights. Though the wintertime was making being outside a little more doable. The trees hung low over your head when you stepped past the traps you had laid out around your home. You lived at the edge of the forest, which wasn’t the most secure place of all the ones you’ve had so far, but it was a little cooler. Most of the dangerous things out there hid several miles from the tree lines anyway.

A dark sky stretched over your head as your feet dangled off the cliff by the forest. You were munching off an old can of beans that you had found on your stroll through the cities as the bright streams of light shot through the sky. It was beautiful and thrilling. Teetering you on the edge of remembering the very day that made this whole shit show go down. The sky was lit up back then too, but it wasn’t half as beautiful as this.

You could have sat like this for hours. The meteors wouldn’t stop passing until the sun rose, but there was a danger of being tired in broad daylight in this world. You couldn’t risk strolling through the morning with half a working brain. Especially because the morning brought a routine acid fog with its sunlight. You took a look at the tactical watch on your wrist. It was 3:30 am - Probably best to head back to safety.

As you stepped through the dried ground, you hummed a song from the old record in your bus. It didn’t work great and it was broken in several places which had you always listening to a slightly messed-up remix of the actual song, but you liked it anyway. Close to the bus, however, there was rustling from the side. Your body went into surviving mode immediately. There was a routine: hide, listen, escape. Only idiots fought whatever was out there.

So that’s what you did.

The tree you hid behind was wide enough to cover you whole, which gave you easy access to sneak your head past the trunk and see what was making the noise. It came from about 20 feet before the buried bus, but there was nothing to be seen. The rustling continued though and as you stepped forwards from your cover, you noticed that it came from underneath. Something had fallen into your trap! It was foolproof of course, but you still approached it with care, fearfully and intrigued all together as to what you had caught this time... well, it was the first time here to be perfectly honest. Even more exciting to say the least.

Your feet crunched the dried leaves beneath you as a mumbled curse reached your ears. That was weird. Last time you checked, monsters didn’t talk. You were even more surprised, however, to find a broad man tangled in the hole you had dug outside your home. Of course, a person had been stupid enough to walk into your trap. You had been so excited about something more dangerous.

The man had not noticed you standing above the hole just yet. He was still working with the net you had splayed out beneath the fallen leaves, too busy cursing his life away in the dirty opening. You cleared your throat after a minute, though. And as amusing as the whole scene had been, the man looking up at you wiped the smirk off your face immediately. He was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes gleamed up in the moonshine, a deep frown on his face as soon as the surprise to see you had faded.

“You got caught in my trap.” You said blankly, still captured by his face. You had not seen another person in nearly a month. It was strange, to say the least. That’s why you weren’t really expecting your mouth to say anything smart.

“This is supposed to be a trap?” The brown-haired man huffed before cutting through the last rope to free him from his restraints.

“Well you can’t get out, can you?” There was a short silence in which you caught the slightest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“If you wanted to catch a monster with that, you wouldn’t be making such snarky comments. It’s barely deep enough for them.”

Anger crept up your neck. Who was this stranger to not only fall into your - awesome - intruder trap but also criticize your work even though he was the idiot stuck in it? “Why do you think I wanted to trap monsters? Maybe my trap was for people, which, in that case, it is brilliant.”

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled.

“Oh come on give me a little credit, I only had spare materials.”

There was the confused glare again, and you couldn’t really place it just yet.“Yeah, yeah. Trap’s great now get me out.”

“That wasn’t genuine.” Your arms crossed before your chest, but you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips. This was fun.

“You know what’s gonna be genuine? My foot in your ass once I get out of here.” Oh, not so fun.

“That's not a really good way to make me help you, you know?” You were about to step away when you heard him sigh deeply beneath you. A triumphant smirk appeared on your face before you held your head over the hole again.

“Can you please help me out of this genius trap?” The Brunette was rolling his eyes, but it was good enough for you - after all, you didn’t want to make enemies just yet.

“Why of course! I love people that appreciate good handy work!”

You nodded appreciatively and reached for the net he held your way. It took a little bit to get enough momentum but then he jumped and dug his boots into the soil walls and within seconds, the stranger was pulled up from the ground.

“Drop the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

Now that he was standing in front of you like that, you noticed how tall he was, and built, too. It was a wonder you had managed to pull his weight out of there now that you thought about it. He was really handsome, too. His dark hair fell into his face and his eyes were bright blue, staring down at you with a gloomy expression. It didn’t scare you, though. You were more... fascinated by him, really.

He looked at you for a second, and the gears were literally turning behind his eyes. But he caught himself quickly, shaking his head and making his way out of the forest. You weren’t ready to have him leave, though. It was rare to meet people now, and this one seemed entertaining enough.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Away.” You barely heard him over the heavy footsteps he pressed into the ground.

“You can’t go!”

That made him stop. The stranger turned around with an unfazed expression, his shoulders hanging low with annoyance, but you wouldn’t let up. “And why’s that?”

Shit, you hadn’t thought it would get this far. Your hands wrung the net as you stood there looking for an explanation. But the guy turned around with a condescending clicking of his tongue. “Wait! You haven’t told me your name.” You shuffled over to him in haste, you steps faster than his, but it was difficult to catch up to him, still.

“I don’t have to.”

“You do, actually. It’s a rule.” He stopped again, and you almost fell at the abrupt halt.

“A rule,” he repeated in disbelief, his face still unimpressed, but he was quite pretty this way.

You smiled. “Yup. You fall into my trap, you tell me your name.” To be honest, you were a little proud at how fast you had come up with the idea, but it seemed the stranger was still not impressed. He just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at you almost amused.

“That's not a rule.”

“It’s my rule.” Was that a tiny smile creeping onto his features? You liked it - looked way better than those broody anger lines.

Then he huffed and shook his head. “Bucky.”

“Gesundheit,” you answered immediately, but that seemed to stick that annoyed look right back onto his handsome face.

“No. Bucky is my name.” Oops.

“Oh. Sorry.” You tried it out in your head, then. And it suited him quite nicely. It was a little odd but witty - just like him.

“Whatever.” His arms untangled before his broad chest and Bucky looked ready to leave again. You didn’t want that, though.

“Would... uh.. would you like to come in?” Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? Your hands were a little sweaty, but talking to someone that actually responded felt so good...

You earned another look with that question. Really, you’d already gotten used to those in the three minutes you knew him - seemed to be his M.O.

“What?” He wasn’t confused this time, at least you didn’t think so. It sounded more like he hadn’t heard you.

“You know... be my guest.” A bright smile spread on your lips, but Bucky wasn’t buying it, and frankly, you were running out of ideas to keep him here. Normally, people were happy to see others around here, but Bucky? He didn’t seem to like talking very much.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

Your eyes found the ground as you heard his steps distancing from you again. “Oh, ok.” You mumbled to yourself, and with a last wash of hope, you called out again. “Will I see you again?”

“No.” He was already by the tree line, now. And Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to run back the distance in slow-mo like you had seen in those old films.

It didn’t discourage you, though. “Okay, you know where to find me!”

“Not gonna visit you!”

“See ya soon!” You waved and bit back a triumphant smile when you heard him chuckle before he disappeared out of the woods.

Hey, Book, It’s me again.

And, man, what a great day!

more…

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