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sophierequests · 1 year

Note

Could I please request a Toyla x reader..? (Bless you for writing for everyone I can’t find any for him 😭) they’re crushing on each other and them having to share a bed 🥺

you are foolish to want

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Pairing: Tolya Yul-Bataar x gn!Reader

A/N: After reading this you might ask me: Sophie, will you ever write anything else than Hurt/Comfort when you get requests that aren't in any explicit genre? The answer to that question is: no <3 Also, the second time of using horses in a Tolya fanfic?? What has overcome me?? Thank you for the request! I hope you'll like this, even though the one bed trope isn't the main focus of this story </3

Summary: Tolya and the reader are on their way to the Lazlayon until unforeseen circumstances put a slight dent in their plans.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (if you squint)

Word Count: 5.8K (oh god)

Warnings: Mention of almost dying, broken ribs and hurt feelings

The silence between you became louder the longer you indulged in it. It wasn’t really silence, so to say. It was more the state of not speaking. The forest surrounding you was anything but silent. Between the creaking of old rotting larch trees swaying in the wind and the padding of hooves against the more or less solid ground, nothing ever really felt quiet.

He couldn’t be sure how much longer the path ahead of you could possibly still drag on; all he knew was that he likely wouldn’t be able to stay awake for the entirety of it. The tension of riding next to you alone would have usually been enough to keep him from falling asleep. Hell, the thought of you alone did the job well enough already. Yet something about this time felt different.

It was just the two of you. No Tamar. No Nikolai. No Zoya. No one else to worry or think about. Just the two of you, wordlessly riding next to each other.

And while his brain screamed at him to use that factor in his favour, to finally make some sort of move, his body recoiled at the impulse of opening his mouth and articulating his feelings. Whenever he even attempted to do so, an obstruction seemed to form inside his larynx, blocking the feeble sounds that might’ve crossed the breach of his vocal folds. Maybe it was his heart leaping out of his chest and ending up in the enclosure of his throat, desperate to be spat out and stowed away inside a neat little box that he could disregard as long as he pleased. Maybe it was bile at the thought of having to come clean about the months and months of yearning he had been subjected to since meeting you. Maybe both of these options rang true; he couldn’t be sure. The sole thing he was painfully sure of was that it had to be closely related to you.

Everything was somehow related to you. You had always been everywhere and nowhere; everything and nothing at the same time. At least to him, he hoped. You occupied his mind, his space, and his time whenever he should be focused on anything else. When he wanted, no, needed to focus on anything else. You were everywhere just as much as you were nowhere. Nowhere he could reach. Touch. Hold. You had always been more of an idealistic daydream, rather than something concrete. And just like most dreams, you would be foolish to pursue.

“Do you think we’ll reach the Lazlayon before the night sets in?” Your voice broke through the air like a gunshot, forcing his gaze away from the impenetrable barrier of trees next to him. You stared at him expectantly, waiting until he could will himself to produce a coherent sentence.

He let out a huffed breath, absent-mindedly fiddling with the reins in his hands as if they were a set of tarot cards that would permit him to look into the future. “If we keep up this pace, we’ll likely get there right before sundown.”

“Oh, lovely. Just in time for Count Kirigin to welcome us. I’m sure he’s already buzzing with excitement,” you chuckled dryly, giving your companion a distinctive eye roll to accentuate your annoyance.

Tolya rolled his shoulders, the mention of the count’s name sending a wave of unease through him. He didn’t necessarily hold any tangible grudges against him, he didn’t know him well enough to form any sort of well-shaped opinion of him to begin with, but what he knew was that the man was an absolute rake. If the countless times of resolute flirting with anyone that didn’t leave his presence on the count of three wasn’t enough to support this hypothesis, Nikolai’s long-winded tales of his drinking and lavished parties sure filled the gaps. Count Kirigin as a whole simply wasn’t a coeval he wanted to be around. Not when he was busy enough with keeping his emotions in check while you were close to him.

“There’s still hope that he chose to go to bed instead of waiting by the door for us to arrive. I doubt that he’s all too invested in our presence. After all, Zoya isn’t accompanying us, so he won’t have much to ogle at,” the Heartrender objected slyly, using the scarce situation of being alone with you to voice his obvious disdain for the man in question.

“We can only hope.” You clasped your hands together, holding them in front of your chest as if you were in prayer. “At least we’ll share the same fate if it comes down to him having genuinely waited on us.”

He nodded in agreement. It was a comforting thought to know that he was there with you. The fact that you were meant to take on the journey to the Lazlayon on your own at first disconcerted him greatly. Not that he wouldn’t have trusted you to come back in one piece, however, having you be out of his sight for so long without a possibility of contacting you made him uncomfortably aware of the actual extent of his feelings.

Another wave of silence settled around you. It was more comfortable this time. Especially since it didn’t take too long for you to speak up again. “I’m glad Nikolai decided to have you come along.”

His smile falters for just a split second, the wave of emotion your simple statement had created stripping him of the last bit of feigned confidence he had. Perhaps his years of studying and breaking down ancient poetry had gotten the best of him. Convinced him that there was more to the comment than merely you being glad that someone else had to suffer through the hours on hours of travel. But that’s what you would have said, right? You would have said ‘someone’ instead of explicitly mentioning him. During times like these, he genuinely missed Zoya’s bluntness to bring him back down to earth.

“Oh, uhm, it’s good to know that you don’t see my presence as patronising,” he stammers, his voice hitching and cracking as if he was a puberty-stricken young boy again.

You tilted your head and looked at him with narrowed but gentle eyes. The same eyes that always seemed to magically find his own whenever he had stared at you for a bit too long. “Your presence could never be patronising to me. I like being around you.”

In an ideal world, he would have told you that the feeling was mutual. The sentence would have rolled off his tongue equally as casually as it had off yours, and you both could have continued your travels with the knowledge that you appreciated each other’s company. This was not an ideal world though. In fact, he didn’t even give you a verbal response. Instead, he hastily turned his head away from you, futilely trying to cover the gleaming blush that had spread across his cheeks in a matter of seconds.

Once again, the steady whirring and rustling replaced your short-lived stab at a conversation. It took another hour for the unkempt thicket to gradually turn into a widespread field, stretching out in front of you until it was obscured by the dense artificial fog that hid the watercraft testing grounds of the Gilded Bog. It would have been a stunning view if you hadn’t been aware of the massive amount of work that lay behind it.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when Count Kirigin’s estate came into view. Your whole body ached after riding for hours on end without a break, making you long for a warm bed and a good night’s sleep. It didn’t take long for Mother Fortuna to knock that idea out of your head though.

Just as you had intended to throw some sort of sarcastic comment in your friend’s direction, a sudden sound of a rifle being fired cut through the forest behind you. After that, everything continued to go downhill horribly fast.

You barely managed to calm down your horse, yanking the reins to the side to let it spur out its fright by trotting in a circle. Tolya, on the other hand, was less lucky. He hadn’t been able to react quick enough, his horse rearing on its hind legs before he was in the right mindset to properly hold onto the straps of his saddle. He was thrown off its back quite roughly, his back hitting the hard ground with a bone-chilling thud.

“Tolya!” you called, dismounting your horse without thinking about the looming threat of someone directing their gunshots at you. It was as if you were passing through a tunnel, eyes only focused on what was in front of you.

A litany of his name spilt out of your mouth as you knelt down next to him; you repeated it so many times that it didn’t even feel like a real word anymore. But no amount of repetition could bring him to regain consciousness. He remained laying on the ground, perfectly still and with no reaction to anything you did. Years and years of basic medical training flickered through your mind, hopelessly trying to give you an impulse that might be able to save his life. Your hands promptly moved to the pronounced column of his throat, a motion that would have been intimate if you weren’t filled with panic. The skin underneath your fingers was warm - and unexpectedly soft - as you dug for any form of heartbeat. When you finally localised a faint but rhythmic thudding, you sucked in a deep breath, momentarily considering changing your stance on the Saints if they had been the ones to grant you this minuscule act of reassurance.

“Tolya,” you tried again, hands cradling the sides of his face as you shifted him onto your lap. His eyelids fluttered open briefly, immediately seeking out contact with yours. It took another moment for him to recognise what position he was currently in. Your hands on his face and his head on your lap felt almost too good of a situation to be anything but a dream.

He wanted to say something, anything for that matter, but a piercing pain in his chest caused him to let out a stifled groan. It hurt to move. It hurt to speak. It hurt to breathe. His whole body felt like it had been pulled apart and reassembled without a manual, and you couldn’t do anything to ease his discomfort.

“Hey.” You let your thumbs smooth over the ridges of his cheekbones, your feather-light touch creating an embarrassingly visible trail of goosebumps all over his arms. Everything you did was too soft. Too delicate. Too wholly overwhelming. “I know it hurts. Just stay here for a while and-”

“Saints!” A shrill voice made your head shoot up, the memory of the gunshot striking you like a brick. When a familiar figure scrambled out of the woods, an extravagant hunting rifle strung over his back and a mortified look on his face, you began to piece together what was going on. “I’m terribly sorry! I- We were just coming back from our hunting trip and we didn’t- Oh, no.” The count ran a shaky hand through his neatly slicked-back hair, causing a few stiff strands to fall onto his forehead.

Something inside you wanted to be mad at him. It was his fault after all. If he had been more careful and a little less trigger-happy none of this would have happened. However, Tolya’s weight still very much present on your legs substituted your anger with worry. “Kirigin, I’ll need some help getting him to the Lazlayon. He needs to be looked at by someone more…medically-inclined than me.”

Emil nodded his head reverently, calling over a few of the other men that had joined him in his hunting party. With their help, you heaved him back to his feet. His nails dug into your shoulder as you helped him walk to your horse; neither of you trusted his horse enough to not throw him off again. It was quite the struggle, but after a lot of cursing and griping coming from the normally very composed Heartrender, you reached the opulent mansion just before the sun had vanished behind the mountain range completely.

Upon entering, the count immediately called for a medik, showing the two of you to his drawing room while he flittered through the foyer in a frenzy. Tolya let himself fall onto one of the plush divans with a groan. His hand flew to his side as soon as his back met the fabric underneath him, flinching as he seemed to have pressed down too hard. It was a strange picture to see him look this helpless. He appeared small and vulnerable, almost as if a bare touch could cause him to break and crumble.

“Don’t move,” you requested gently, one of your hands reaching out to take hold of his. He was aware that this gesture was merely meant to give him a piece of reassurance; you wanted to give him something to hold on to, something to get his mind off of the erupting pain in his chest. Still, a nimble twinge of hope sent a burning wave of longing through his body. “I think you may have broken a rib. After your fall earlier that would be one of the lesser evils,” you assessed, letting the fingers of your free hand brush over the clothed expanse of his chest. “We should probably pass a message to Nikolai. You can’t be expected to take on the ride back anytime soon. But all of that can wait until tomorrow.”

The medik arrived just as you closed your mouth, forbidding Tolya from saying anything in response to your short-lived ramblings. He was a bit miffed by the fact that the person treating him was a simple medik instead of an actual Healer that could have fixed him up in the blink of an eye. However, a faint memory of Kuwei accidentally setting a whole section of the laboratory on fire told him that their presence was a bit more required downstairs.

He was ripped from his thoughts when the medik pushed down on his ribcage with unexpected force. A jolt of pain flashed through him again, and embarrassingly enough, that only caused his grip on your hand to tighten. You didn’t show any sign of discomfort as he did so, entirely concentrated on providing the tiniest bit of comfort you could offer him.

“Fractured rib,” the woman beside you muttered, her brows furrowed as she looked at his exposed chest stomach. “This will take a few weeks to heal on its own. We can send for a Healer as soon as one’s available, but that will probably take just as long. The new project is keeping everyone busy, I’m afraid.”

“I will send a letter to the King,” the Count interjected, rubbing his palms together in an attempt to cope with his nervousness. “The Healers at the Grand Palace are often more willing to make the trip than the ones we have on our hands here. I’m certain he would do everything in his power to ensure that one of his most trusted…guards is back in his service as soon as possible.”

“I suppose that would be for the better.” The medik took out a few differently coloured vials from the pouch on her hip, handing them to you as if the person needing them wasn’t also in the room with you. “These are painkillers. Make sure he takes one of these twice a day.” You nodded along slowly, letting go of Tolya’s hand to not drop any of the flimsy flasks. “It would be best if someone keeps an eye on him for now. Especially after taking the medicine. In case the pain gets worse, you know where to find me.” She directed her gaze at Emil who merely dismissed her with a grateful wave of his hand.

“Thank you for…taking the initiative.” You gave him a brief smile, sitting on the armrest of the sofa where Tolya was still laying. Slowly but surely, the heaviness of the day began seeping through your bones.

“But of course! That’s the least I could do after causing such a mishap.” He pursed his lips but opted to force them into a straight line while he pondered his next words. “I shall send for a servant to mind you during the night if that’s alright with you. Someone should probably be there to attend to you, just in case something happens.”

Tolya looked up at him, evidently not too fond of his suggestion. The idea of having some stranger even do as much as stay in the same room as he slept didn’t sit right with him at all. “I…appreciate your kindness, Count Kirigin. However, I would prefer it if you refrained from doing anything like that. I’m certain it will be fine if I’m left unsupervised for the night.”

“The count has a point,” you reasoned, a distinct expression of worry present on your face. “You’re hurt; don’t be so blasé about it. It would genuinely be better if someone is there for you. At least for tonight.”

“Maybe you could stay with him for the night if it’s the aspect of familiarity he’s concerned with?” Emil offered, his eyes darting between the two of you nervously. If his upper body had allowed it, Tolya would have shot upright in his seat after hearing that. As much as he hated the notion of having someone else practically babysit him while he was asleep, anyone else would be a better option than you. He wouldn’t survive spending a night under these circumstances.

His suggestion caught you off guard with what felt like brute force. He was a good friend; one of your closest actually. Yet you had never even seen the inside of his bedroom. Spending the night in the same room, no matter under what circumstances, seemed like a terrible way to improve that friendship.

“I… Tolya? Your call.” You shifted all the responsibility of decision-making onto the Heartrender, giving him an apologetic look while he struggled to find the right words.

He mentally considered all the implications this action might entail. What if he snored? What if he talked in his sleep? What if the medicine made him do or say things he might regret? What if nothing out of the ordinary happens and he was just diving into the worst-case scenarios? “If I have to choose, I’d prefer your presence,” he mumbled, instantly clamping his eyes shut in order to avoid looking at your face while you let his words sink in.

“It’s decided then,” you chirped, slumping off your seat to carefully place the ampoules in your bag. You sounded pretty much unbothered by the prospect of sharing a room for the night. Weren’t you even a little bit uncomfortable with that? He should be glad that you were taking this situation so well, however, your unexpected nonchalance concerning the topic made every last speck of hope that you could possibly like him back dwindle down to nothing.

“Very well!” Kirigin clasped his hands together with a resounding clap, the jovial nature returning to his face in an instant. “Now, if you’d be so inclined - and able -, please follow me upstairs to the guest bedrooms.”

The guest bedrooms of the count’s estate reminded you of the countless ornate rooms you had seen at the Grand Palace; broad wide rooms with high ceilings and long windows that made them appear more like a makeshift dining hall than an actual bedchamber. Needless to say, the Lazlayon was a bit more bucolic than what you were used to seeing in the capital, but the white walls and the rococo king-size bed definitely opposed every notion of humility one might expect if there was no prior knowledge of Kirigin’s spendthrift way of living.

Neither of you really had enough willpower to change into your nightclothes, so you merely rid yourself of the thick jackets and clunky boots, which you mindlessly tossed on top of your bags. The bedding would be changed in the morning anyway.

It was a terribly awkward scene, the tension practically electrifying the air around you. Tolya sat on the bed, his back perched on the carved headboard while he watched you scurry around the room like a rabbit in front of a rifle. You also seemed to have realised what the offer of staying in the same room for the night might imply; your previous casualness being gone completely.

“Here,” you said, handing him one of the vials the medik had given you earlier. He took the medicine from your hands, eying it with a suspicious expression. In comparison to his hand, the tiny bottle looked like a prop right out of a doll house. The image of comparing your hand to his popped into your mind, but you hastily shooed it away, thinking about how inappropriate that thought was. “Drink. I’ll get you some water to help with the taste in case you need it.”

Quickly, he downed the viscous medicine, cringing at the sickly-sweet flavour that spread inside his mouth as he swallowed. As soon as the liquid went down his throat, he had to stifle a cough, the taste only getting worse the longer he occupied his mind with it.

You plopped down on the empty spot next to him, cautious to not spill any of the water that you held out for him. When he reached out to take the glass, your hands touched his for a split second, your fingertips barely brushing over his. Still, that simple gesture was enough to make his head spin. Saints, he hated that you had that effect on him.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, not quite knowing what exactly he thanked you for. Thank you for being there for me when I fell off that damned horse? Thank you for holding my hand earlier? Thank you for staying with me tonight? Thank you for getting me that glass of water? He could probably think about at least a hundred things to thank you for off the top of his head.

“How are you feeling?” Your voice sounded just as sweet as the medicine tasted, he thought. He just liked listening to your voice a whole lot better. Were the painkillers already kicking in?

“Better. Sore, but better. I’m dreading thinking about what Nikolai will say once he gets wind of this.” He let his head slump against the wall behind him, his eyes glancing at you furtively as you scanned his body for any sort of unease or pain he might still feel.

“Forget Nikolai. He can survive without you for a bit longer. And Tamar is still there to save his ass when it comes down to it.” You gave him a quick smile, taking his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze before leaving his side again. “The only thing that matters now is that you’re getting better. No matter whether that happens naturally or with the help of a Healer."

“I’d prefer it happening through the help of a Healer,” he muttered under his breath, scowling at the idea of having to spend another six weeks alone in the confines of a bed without being able to follow his usual duties.

“Well, an actual break would do you some good every once in a while. After everything that Nikolai put you through during the last few years, you should be eligible to take off at least a few months without him being allowed to say anything against it.”

“So eager to get rid of me now?”

A sharp snort escaped your mouth as you looked at him, the feigned pout on his lips making him look like a kicked puppy. Sometimes you had the suspicion that Nikolai’s inherent obnoxiousness was rubbing off on him.

“Believe it or not, I still like being around you. Even though you now gave me the added stress factor of having to keep a close eye on you when we’re around horses.” You walked over to one of the cushioned armchairs that decorated the corner of the room, leaning against it without actually sitting in it. “And If I really would be so eager to get rid of you I wouldn’t have agreed to play your nursemaid for the night. Especially not if I had known that I’d have to sleep in one of these forsaken chairs. Kirigin could have at least given us a double room.”

Tolya’s previously playful expression dropped. He had been so hung up on the fact that you’d be with him for the entire night that he had completely neglected to think about the logistics of his request. Had he known that you’d end up sleeping in a chair rather than a bed, he would have answered differently.

An unwelcome thought clawed its way into his mind; he wanted to strangle it before it could properly manifest. Had he been Nikolai or Tamar he would have immediately sprung into action, offering you his bed, and probably also his heart while he was at it. But he wasn’t like either of them. He wasn’t brash, or romantic, or even socially intelligent. These attributes would be foreign on him, like a coat that was just a bit too big to fit correctly - contorting his actual silhouette to make him look like something he wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” you asked, a worried undertone present as you spoke. He quickly closed his mouth, straightening out his features to appear more collected than he felt before fixing his gaze on you again. You didn’t only sound worried, you also looked the part; eyebrows tightly knitted together while a distinct flash of concern gloomed in your eyes. “Are you still in pain? Should I get-”

“No, it’s- I’m fine, Y/N. I was just thinking…”

“Care to share with the class?”

Even though everything inside him rebelled against opening his mouth and speaking his mind, his heart moved quicker than his mind could process. “Sleeping in an armchair can’t be comfortable. We could share the bed,” he trailed off, watching as you gawked at him like a fish on land. “If you want to, that is.” He felt the need to add that, even if it was only enough to calm his raging nerves.

“Tolya, you’re hurt. You need the rest more than I do. I can’t possibly do that in good conscience.” The room was filled to the brim with the nervousness exuding off of the two of you. It was almost sad to watch you two stumble over your own words, acting as if you were two little schoolchildren that both had a crush on the other.

Seemingly taking your refusal as a challenge, he awkwardly shuffled towards the edge of the bed, leaving the other side very clearly unoccupied. “Would that be enough space for you?” Your eyes darted from the comfortable-looking bed to the stiff armchair you had originally intended to sleep in. Much to your dismay, the bed did look more inviting than the chair could ever be.

“I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” was everything you could muster up to talk yourself out of it. A futile attempt at not giving in to the want clouding your coherent thoughts ever since being in the same room as Tolya.

“You wouldn’t.” You couldn’t. “Trust me, I don’t mind. I couldn’t let you sleep in a bloody chair with a good conscience either.” As if to underline his statement, he patted the empty space next to him.

With an exasperated sigh, you shook off the roots that had metaphorically formed around your ankles and moved to the offered side of the bed. You felt terribly awkward as you slid into bed right next to him. You two had never been this close. Not in this context.

“Thank you,” you whispered, laying flat on your back with your hands folded over your stomach. He mirrored your movement soon after, albeit a bit slower.

He wanted to say something - anything - to relieve some of the tension buzzing between you. But everything he could have said wouldn’t have improved the situation in the slightest. Just like a few hours ago in the woods, the silence was anything but silent.

“You really scared me earlier, do you know that?” you mumbled, breaking through the uncomfortable silence. Again, he thought. “This could have ended with way worse consequences than a fractured rib.”

“I know.” The words were heavy on his tongue, suffocating him. Up until the possibility that worse things could have happened had sounded like an impossible what-if situation to him. But judging by the honest fear in your voice, he really could have suffered a fate way worse than being forced to rest for an uncertain amount of time. The only feeling he could recall after his fall was the dizziness of laying on top of your lap and the intoxicating touch of your hands on his cheeks. He didn’t even think that he genuinely registered the pain in his chest until he felt the impulse to move. “Thankfully, we didn’t have to find out exactly how badly this could have ended.”

“Good. I honestly wouldn’t have known what to do if you hadn’t woken up. What I would do without you.” The last sentence was so unexpected that it almost knocked the air out of his lungs. You had your way of catching him off-guard with your words that was so brutal, but equally as stunning.

“You won’t have to that out either. Not if I can help it.” He wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you so badly that breathing normally became more and more difficult. But he couldn’t. Not right now. And maybe not ever.

Silence fell over you again. It was such a stark contrast to the chaos raging inside his head that he barely noticed when you turned to lay on your side, facing him. He forced his eyes to close in hopes of at least getting a few full hours of sleep before he was pushed back into a world where it wasn’t normal for you to sleep next to him.

“Tolya?” you whispered, resisting the urge to nudge him.

“Mhm?” he murmured, eyes still clamped shut.

He heard you shuffling next to him, probably to put a bit of distance between you and him. “I have to tell you something.” You shuffled again, the mattress giving in ever so slightly when you did. You were sitting up now. “This might be a terrible time to do so, but I have to get it off my chest.” That caught his attention enough to look at you again. You sounded so serious.

“Uhm, sure, go for it.” To say that he was concerned would have been an understatement. His whole body tensed, much to the dismay of his fractured ribcage.

“I don’t recall the last time when I was genuinely so afraid of someone I care about not being alright, but what I felt when you didn’t wake up at first was way worse than just being scared. I'm not sure how to tell you this, and I’ve been putting this off for quite some time now. But I don’t just care about you like how I care about the others. I think I'm in love with you." The last words tumbled from your lips in a hurry, so quickly that he almost didn’t comprehend what you were saying. He could have sworn that this was a fever dream. Maybe the medicine had kicked in way stronger than he expected it to. Maybe he was genuinely going mad. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel real.

You realised how badly timed this confession was as soon as you saw the completely befuddled expression that was plastered all over his face. Suddenly, sleeping on the armchair looked way more appealing than the shared bed. You felt like you were trapped in a mass of writhing quicksand, slowly but surely devouring you until there was nothing left to take. This was way more embarrassing than you had imagined.

“I, uhm, this was a mistake.” You felt your cheeks heat up, burning you until you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to get out of this bed. Preferably also this room. “It would be best if I leave, I’m so sorry. I’ll go downstairs to call fo-”

Tolya seized your wrist just as you wanted to throw the covers off of you. The rash movement caused him to wince slightly, but he didn’t let go of you. A thousand questions forced their way into his mind, and he could answer none of them.

“Wait.” He didn’t know what else to say. But he knew that you needed to stay. “Are…are you being sincere?”

“What? Of course? Do you genuinely think I would make a joke out of something like that? Especially in our…current situation?” you questioned, absolutely bewildered that he thought you were joking around.

At this point, his face was beet red. He couldn’t tell where his embarrassment came from. Whether it was the fact that he had been tiptoeing around his feelings for months by now while you felt the same or the fact that he had the genuine audacity to ask you if you were kidding.

“Tolya, I can understand that this makes you uncom-”

“No, no, don’t!” His grip on your wrist tightened as you tried to wriggle yourself out of his grasp. That was his cue to say something. Anything if it made you stay.

“What do you mean?”

“I love you too,” he blurted, maybe a bit too quickly. But the fear of having to watch you leave made his heart act before his brain could.

“You do?”

“Do you genuinely think I would make a joke out of something like that?” He gave you a sheepish smile, his eyes gleaming with adoration. Saints, he really was in love. “I never said anything because I didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

He had intended to let go of your hand, giving you a moment to process what he had just said. You didn’t let him pull away though. Instead, you took his hand in your own, tightly squeezing it before allowing your lips to curl up into a wide smile.

“Sounds like we’re both idiots then.”

“At least we’re idiots in love.”

“But idiots nonetheless," you laughed, your heart thudding even louder when you heard Tolya join you.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light @treasureofmy-heart

Tolya Yul-Bataar: @juneberrie @horny4knives

#tolya x reader #tolya yul bataar x reader #tolya yul bataar #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #netflix shadow and bone

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aurossaga · 7 months

Text

Poems

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: None!

Summary: Venti can't seem to find the inspiration to finish his current project.

It’s easy to write an unexceptional poem. One that tells the listener what they want to hear, and what they already know. Poetry doesn’t always need to stand out in the slightest to matter to the recipient; often it’s the fact that someone thought of them for long enough to put the words on paper that matters the most, the actual content of that text just serving as proof of those feelings.

Yes, it wouldn’t take the bard very long to slam down a few lines to tell you you’re important to him. However, “important” doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the feelings he holds for you within his heart. And “hard to articulate” is the exact phrase he’d use to describe them if he wasn’t trying to go into detail about it.

That’s the thing with Venti. He had no doubts of his linguistic skills before he sat down to write something for you. Suddenly, the word “love” isn’t nearly big enough. It doesn’t feel as warm, as overwhelming, as completely hopeless as he wishes it did.

How will he explain that you’re like the sunlight reflected on the waters of the seas? Like freshly fallen snow and deep cold breaths under clear starry skies? How could he possibly convey to you that he loves you like the way he loves to laugh, to smile, like something he couldn’t possibly live without? When every time he blows the seeds of a dandelion off into the winds, he hopes they make their way to you?

Several crumpled balls of paper lay scattered around him, his pensive expression making the muscles in his face ache subtly considering how long he’d been sitting in your living room like that. The loud hammering of the raindrops on the window offered a strange rhythm that he’d suddenly become all too aware of, struggling to retain concentration on the task at hand. Placing the pen down at last, he runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a sigh he forgot he’d been holding in. Turning to face the window, the sky was gloomy and gray with no sunny weather in sight. It wasn’t doing much for his lack of inspiration.

Venti lets out another sigh and gets up from your sofa, taking his time to pick up the crumpled papers and place them in the bin where they belong. Every scratched out word etched onto those pages felt like an insult to him, like they were mocking him for continually failing to string the right words together. Finally, a sound breaks the monotony of the empty house as he hears the unmistakable sound of you opening the door.

Despite his foul mood, he still finds a smile creeping up on his face at the thought of you. He skips over to the door to greet you, just as you close the door behind yourself.

“Welcome home, my friend!” He musters the most convincing smile he can, not wanting to burden you too much with his current predicament.

“Hello Venti. How’s the progress?” You glance at him as you wrestle with your umbrella, trying to get it to close properly.

“Well, not much to speak of, I’m afraid…” Venti approaches you, lifting the raincoat off your shoulders and hanging it up for you. “I still haven’t gotten a full line down.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, Venti. Why don’t you take a break? I’ll make you something to drink.” You pick up your basket of groceries and carry it off to the kitchen, with the bard trailing close behind you.

“A break huh? That’s a nice idea.” He replies, leaning on the kitchen counter and watching you pack out your groceries. Had you been a bit more aware, you’d probably notice how his eyes follow your every movement, with a soft look of adoration. He simply can’t help the expression that makes its way onto his face every time you turn your back. A part of him longs to cut the formalities and just embrace you right there and then, but he doesn’t want to startle you. He so desperately wishes he could just find the words already. As you shuffle from place to place, sorting everything into its rightful place, Venti lets out a quiet sigh.

“You work so hard. Why don’t you take a break as well? I almost feel exhausted just looking at you.” He chuckles a bit, moving closer to you and placing a hand on your shoulder.

Your eyes shift around for a moment as you think.

“I… suppose I could take a quick break too-”

“Wonderful! I’ll get the fireplace going and grab us some blankets, how does that sound?” Venti leans in closer to you, taking the basket out of your hands and placing it aside on the counter.

“Are you just trying to get me to procrastinate with you?”

“Ehe! Is it working?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples as a quiet laugh slips past your lips. Venti is already on his way into the living room, gathering up all the blankets he could find on the way.

“I suppose so.”

Venti waits for you in front of the fireplace, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders. He studies the way the fire flickers and burns, the crackling sound bringing peace to his mind that had been anything but peaceful lately. Before he knew it, you placed a warm cup down on the table before him, snapping him out of his train of thought. He looks up at you, mutters a “thank you”, and takes a sip as you sit down next to him. He wraps the blanket around you as well.

It’s not lost on him how your expression seems a tad more weighed down than usual, and he contemplates how he should bring it up. As he considers his options, you suddenly speak up.

“Sooo… What are you writing?” You draw out the o’s, leaning playfully into him as you both crack up a bit. “It’s a secret my friend! I told you this already, didn’t I?” He wraps an arm around you, hugging you to his side.

“Yeah, yeah. Spoiling the surprise and all that…” You take a sip from your cup, allowing for a brief but comfortable silence.

“The weather was pretty rough today. Did you have to walk far?” His arm still lingers around you, keeping you close.

“Agh, don’t get me started! I had to run all around town to get everything, and I kept overlooking things on my shopping list!”

As you vent out your frustrations, Venti listens intently to every word. You go on about long lines, shops out of stock, every little thing that had dampened your mood that day. And Venti, watching as your frustrated expression slowly becomes lighter the more steam you let off, smiles peacefully down at you.

“Now that explains why you seem so exhausted. Why don’t you relax a bit here? I’ll keep watch over you.” Venti speaks with care and understanding, his hold on you adjusting slightly to make you a bit more comfortable. You look at him with a questioning look, but his reassuring smile puts you at ease again. You sigh.

“Alright, alright. Wake me up in an hour then, alright?”

“Of course. Rest now, my dear friend.”

Venti’s face settles in a relaxed smile as you close your eyes and lean into him. As he watches the flickering light from the fireplace and your tired form at his side, he reaches for another blank sheet of paper and a pen.

Maybe he’ll never find words good enough for you. But, that’s okay. He’ll gladly spend the rest of his life searching.

#venti x reader #venti x gn reader #venti x you #genshin impact venti #genshin venti x reader #venti x y/n #venti genshin impact #venti x gn!reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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sizzleissues · 7 months

Text

toxic (748 words)

Toxinelle/Marinette/Shadybug drabble thing

The apartment was a shell.

The furniture they retained from the move sat in the positions they logically belonged to but there was no heart to their placements. The objects knew they were miles from where they were supposed to be and languished in their new dusty light. The space between them, places that should have contained something else — not something physical but a concept — was chillingly bare. Marinette doubted anyone had sat on the couch in a few days or treaded across the creaky floorboards in any direction other than to the bedrooms. The kitchen that had sung in its constant use; pots and pans clanging, cupboard doors slamming and kettles hissing — was quiet.

The lack of something pressed into her skin, a constant companion to her nowadays.

Marinette could have tried to make this home, she had tried at first, back before she’d resolved herself to seek fulfilment through other means. Made dinner — burnt dinner — decorated the table and sat at its head and waited. If she hadn’t thrown out the food two months ago it would still be there, under the layer of mould it had accumulated. She tried to fill the house with song and light but no matter how many curtains she parted it never reached the shadows. Her parents were never home to see her efforts.

So she gave up and did her best not to spend too much time inside. Her new hobby helped greatly with that.

She hung her jacket up, dumping her belongings by the door and making her way through the apartment to close an open window. This may not be home but she didn’t want stray animals to make it theirs. As she passed the couch, her eyes caught on the enigmatic grin of her a certain stray cat, lazed across the disused cushions. He allowed her three seconds to process his appearance before leaping up and grabbing her wrist, pulling her against him.

“Found you.”

She fought against his grip, weaker as Marinette than she was as Toxinelle. His grin only widened, flashing razor sharp fangs she’d seen tear through metal (and bloodier things.)

“It wasn’t that hard. Stop looking impressed with yourself.”

Griffe Noire dropped her wrist, putting distance between them as easily as he’d removed it. He detransformed, leaving the haughty Adrien standing in her living room. His height and slender frame was less elegant and more awkward as his civilian self — as if being human returned gravity to his body and mind. She already knew the depths of his mind quite well.

“I only had to find it ‘cause you wouldn’t tell me,” he said. If it had been Griffe Noire there would have been a smile to it, constantly making everything a game. Adrien, even though he was but another side of the same person, said it with a sulky tone.

“I can’t have you here if my parents come home. Especially as Griffe Noire.”

“As if they would. You said they're never home with all the work they have to do to pay for your tuition.” He flopped onto the couch again, throwing her previous words back at her with an ease that didn’t articulate the slap to the face they were for her. Things she’s admitted in confidence tossed around like nothing when it had taken her everything to admit. He seemed to notice her silence and realise the impact of his words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just that this would be the perfect place to plan and hang out. I'm a bit sick of the sewers. It wouldn’t be weird for us as civilians to be here either and it's private.”

“No. Not here. I’m keeping any chance of them knowing about this out of it.”

This was her line.

Adrien examined her for a moment. The strength of her stance and the resolute set of her jaw. He could care less if his father became embroiled in this, as long as it didn’t stop him from doing it.

“Okay. Do you want to go now?”

Marinette looked around the apartment, she wasn’t sure for what. Maybe for an excuse not to say yes. To see her parents walk through that door and finally figure it all out. Take away her miraculous because she wouldn’t stop them and free her from the burden she’d brought upon herself.

Then again, she quite liked tearing shit apart.

“Let's go.”

Did you understand it? I'm I going in a direction you like? While I love a lot of peoples takes on the concept of the reverse world and have a few of my own, this particular is going for it all being quite toxic in its short amount of words.

Trying to get myself motivated to write but I am a fickle thing

Did you like it?? let me know and reblog blah blah blah etc.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #toxinelle #shadybug #claw noir #griffe noire #ml fic #ml fanfic #ml paris special

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p0ssywhippedcream · 2 years

Note

gosh just like, imagine L being somewhat sexuqlly frustrated, case pulling him down and such.

at nights you stay with him, keep him company, ramble at him (which, in turn- he listens, almost being consumed by your voice) while he works. General things.

But now, since he's nearly dying; not having time to take care of himself, too shy to ask you to help- he's just. Suffering through it. One night you seem to just coincidentally turn him on without knowing. He tries holding himself back, not excusing himself or saying anything. They way you delicately put candies in your mouth, the way your fingers glide through the sweets, picking just the right one

g o s h, mans just can anymore, finally has enough of it and just rams you into his desk

*giggles* gosh i love you, y’all know me too well 🤭

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

L loves listening to himself talk, but he loves listening to you talk even more. Your words are coated in honey, voice articulating things he’d never ever imagined. You talk about anything, everything, as long as it sparks curiosity or conflict.

L’s gone through typing thousands of sentences listening to you ramble about necklaces, history, food, shoes, video games, books, ex lovers, humanity as a whole, Poland and society. Sometimes you don’t know if he’s actually listening but when he throws a glance in your direction with an interested expression, you know he does care about what you’re saying even if he doesn’t say it too.

So you continue to come in your comfortable clothes, sit with him and practically burst with information and opinions while stealing his sweets every now and then. L likes you, you’re authentic and honest, you wear baggy t shirts and sleep shorts and smell of mint when it’s closer to bed time for you and you’ve recently brushed your teeth. And you’re consistent, every night, 7 on the dot, he hears the waddle of your padded feet slapping the stairs and the squeal of a chair’s hinges as you sit down and scoot towards him.

He likes that about you, you’re precise, but lately he finds himself conflicted. He loves your visits, loves sharing whatever edible heart-attack he has, loves your beautiful, sweet voice next to him. But he dreads the feelings that come with it. His heart races, palms sweat and vision blurs, intense bodily reactions that cause terror and confusion. He feels like he’s dying. And nobody can focus when they’re dying.

Plus, he has an erection that would be fairly obvious if his knees weren’t in the way of you line of sight. He did some research in a spare moment and discovered many things about himself, the important ones being that he’s most likely aroused and that he may have feelings for you. So, you arouse and intrigue him.

He goes through a few nights thinking that information would be enough to calm his symptoms but soon realizes it’s worse now then before because he’s actually aware of the way he looks at you and where he looks at you now.

He can’t help his eyes falling to your pretty, bouncing breasts as you descend the stairs. He can’t help his attention on your pump lips forming words he can hardly hear anymore. He can’t help the blood rushing straight to his cock when you lean out of your chair to grab a bite of his cake and your shorts lift up ever so slightly, allowing the curve of your ass to be seen from where he sits.

He considers asking for help and immediately mentally reprimands himself for even considering the great L would need help. He doesn’t have time for anything else but working and sleeping and he can’t compromise himself just because he’s feeling a little aroused. So he doesn’t do anything, and suffers the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You greet L with a smile and giddily bounce over to your designated seat next to him, grabbing a hold of the back of the chair.

“See anything different?” You ask with an excited grin.

L furrows his brow and studies you for a second but comes up empty and shakes his head.

You sigh and give him a faux frown.

“The pajamas?” You spin and he notices what you mean. Deep red strawberries litter your shorts, that seem slightly shorter than the others you wear, and your pink socks have strawberries sewn into the sides. Then you’ve finished spinning and L can see your shirt clearly, he almost goes into cardiac arrest. Directly where your nipples are, there are two small strawberries poking out on the thin fabric.

L quickly clears his throat and turns his chair back to the monitors, bringing his legs closer to his chest, “Very nice.”

You huff and plop down next to him, stealing the fork in his hand and nipping some cake, “‘Very nice?’ I thought you would think they were cute.”

L looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“They’re cute.”

You giggle and turn towards him more, using your foot as leverage to push off the table so that you’re closer to him.

“I know, right? I found them last week shopping with Misa and she said that you were gonna make fun of me but I thought you’d like ‘em so I bought ‘em.”

L thinks for a second then turns to you with a surprised expression, which for him is just a slight eyebrow raise and eye widening.

“You bought them… for me?”

You shrug like it’s no big deal.

“Yeah, thought you’d like ‘em. You’re all about strawberries anyways.”

L’s heart is racing so fast it feels like it’s going to pop out of his chest and run a marathon.

“Well.. you were right. I do like them.”

You throw a smile with teeth his way and he flatlines.

“Anyways… what’ja wanna talk about tonight? I’ve got a few ideas.”

L tries to focus on whatever document he’d been working on before you arrived but you steal his attention again as he sees you pushing your chair even closer to his.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

You make a dive for the bowl of candies next to his keyboard and he gawks at you.

You lean over the arm of the chair and smile at him innocently, “What, you can’t share? Mr. Billionaire is greedy.”

You draw out the ‘dy’ in greedy with a giggle and drop the candies back at his frown.

L shakes his head at your antics, “No, I mean what are you doing so close? Can’t you talk from over there?”

You ignore the ego pang you could take and shrug, dropping eye contact in favor of your finger nails suddenly being very interesting.

“I dunno… thought we were close enough that I could sit here.”

L recognizes your expression and sighs, looking straight ahead at his screen.

“You can. I don’t mind.” He pretends not to see the way your face lights up again and pretends a little harder not to notice the tingling feeling inside his stomach.

There’s a few moments of silence before the creaking of your chair shifting ever closer to his draws a quarter of his attention. The arm of your chair bumps his and he glances to his right to see your mischievous grin beaming up at him from where your head rests on his chair, nearly falling onto his lap.

L must be a pro at this point when it comes to ignoring his feelings but he still struggles to keep a straight face when your hands come out to trace shapes into the side of his jeans.

He can’t tell how long it’s been that you’ve been talking about meaningless things or how long you’ve been practically in his chair with the way your whole body leans onto his. Could’ve been ten minutes, twenty or an hour, L’s too enthralled by your presence to get work done at his usual pace.

You reach your hand out to the bowl of sweets and L watches you in his peripheral vision as your delicate fingers search for your favored flavor, gently brushing the others and softly plucking one up. The way your eyes seem so focused on the task, lips curling into a bottom bite as your hand pushes the candy through reddened lips.

You hum in satisfaction at the taste and L’s thoughts scatter, leaving only the sight of you on his mind. Taking quick note of how little work he’s gotten done tonight, of his aching erection rubbing against the rough confines of his pants and the way your nipples poke out just right on the shirt, barely visible under the strawberries and makes a decision he’s yet to regret. L is going to get laid.

“Y/n, stand up.” Puzzled, you do so and tug on the bottom of your shorts when they come up too high.

“I… want to do something, you may stop me at any time.” You nod and make a concerned face that fades as he stands too, cupping your face and angling it towards his.

The only sign of the anxiety he feels inside is the shaking hands the cradle your jaw with uncertainty. He meets your eyes with hesitant eye contact and sees only pure desire and trust back.

L’s lips gloss over yours, barely a whisper yet enough to make you whimper and tangle your hands in the mess of his hair. You pull his towards you with urgency, slotting your lips against his much more desperately.

You taste like raspberries and toothpaste and months of longing, L feels like he might die when your hands wander down to his chest and fist the fabric of his shirt with a muffled gasp. L knows you’ll stop him if you don’t want anything further so he takes a leap of faith and drops his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His throbbing, clothed erection brushes your thigh with a groan from you both.

You pull away, lips kissbitten and eyes glazed over with lust. L’s heart chases after you, beating like crazy inside it’s poor little cage.

“You look angelic.” His words fumble out like a broken dam but he means it, almost proud of himself when you blush and smile.

“What was that thing you wanted to do?” You change the subject with a nervous fidget of his shirt in your fists.

“You, if you’d let me.” He sounds bold and sure of himself but he’s hardly controlling himself from begging you to just kiss him like that again, even though if you did, he’d surely fall completely in love with you.

You met his eyes with a unfamiliar shyness and nod quickly.

“I’d let you..please, do.”

He allows his signature proud smirk to take his lips before he takes yours again, hands wandering down to the ruffle at the edge of your pajamas.

He tugs them down your thighs slightly and cups your ass in his big hands before breaking the kiss.

“Turn around.”

Your back faces him and he uses his leverage to bend you over his desk, his mind freezing up when he notices a dark spot on your pink panties, puffy clit poking out on the material.

He trails his fingers up towards the waistband and slowly pulls them down, a string of arousal between your pussy and panties growing thinner and finally breaking once they’re down where your shorts are.

“You’re incredibly wet.” L remarks with a finger sliding through your dripping folds, eyes catching the full body shiver you do.

“You’re incredibly attractive.” You snap back quick but there’s amusement in your tone. “Sometimes shit happens.”

He mentally rolls his eyes and simply replied by propping you up in a easier position, pushing your back into a arch and your ass high in the air.

“May I?” He asks, hoping you understand the implication by the sound of his zipper.

“You may.” You respond with a cheeky grin over your shoulder, “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He wants to say something romantic but he doesn’t know how you’ll take it.

Right as his hands clasp your hips and tug you closer to his waiting cock, he lets it slip.

“For you.”

You both know there’s implications behind that more than just him saying he’ll ask for consent but you ignore it for now. You know later, when you’re stumbling back to your room with a giddy smile and sore legs, you’ll giggle to yourself over the thought he may want you for more than just sex.

His tip angles at your entrance and he takes a breath before gently pushing in, pulling a sensual gasp from your mouth as your wetness expands around him. Curses fall easily from your lips as you shuffle your legs farther apart, feeling him bottom out completely.

You already feel your pussy ache, accommodating the stretch almost painful but wonderfully full at the same time. L, on the other hand, is also greatly feeling the size difference. He’s been holding his breath and mentally clicking through past cases to keep himself from busting a load too soon, his hands an iron grin on your poor waist.

A wet squelch sounds as he begins pulling out to thrust in again and your red cheeks flame even harder, knowing you’re definitely soaking him and yourself.

L waits for a second and slyly says, “Is that a snail in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

You laugh loud and abruptly, nearly choking as he pushes in again through the joke. You love his sense of humor but sometimes he’s really got to read the room, still though, you feel more at ease.

L feels his cock tense and balls clench and resolves to move faster, in order to please both parties. His hips slam against yours deeply as he fucks himself into you, your slick pussy driving him halfway mad.

“F-fuck.. please! Please, L, please!” You sound like you’re crying from the desperation in your voice but from the pornographic moans leaking at a consistent rate, L knows it feels good to you.

Atleast he hopes it does, and when he realizes he wants to make it better, he angles so that with each thrust, your clit rubs against the smooth table and instantly feels the effects, your cunt squeezing infinitely harder.

He lets out a choked noise for the first time and you nearly cum right then, his broken voice groaning sounds ethereal to your ears.

“Y/n…I’m going to orgasm.” You almost chuckle at his use of vocabulary but nod hurriedly nonetheless.

“Mmmm..me too, fuck….harder, please!”

L thrusts harder at your command and gave a few final desperate ruts before letting out a string of your name connected to a deep, long sob of ‘fuck’. You clench around him and pant out his alias as you shake through your release.

He nearly falls on top of you and thankfully rolls to the side with a satiated look, slowly pulling himself out of your sore, dripping hole.

After a few beats of heavy breathing, you shoot him a tired smile and ask, “Get what you wanted?”

He looks back at you with something unidentifiable and smiles slightly too.

“For now.”

#oph.thoughts #oph.asks #death note #l lawliet x reader #deathnote smut #deathnote x reader smut #l lawliet x reader smut #l x reader #l x reader smut #oph.anons

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leclerced · 5 months

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Lando having girlfriend that’s super smart? It would be hilarious. At first when he talks about it everyone is like 👍 amazing but we know that almost anyone can be genius compared to you. But then they’re doing some sort of challenge (can be with Quadrant or with drivers or whatever) and there’s some algebra thrown in there and Lando’s girl just does it in like a minute. That’s something. Then they meet at Lando’s or he’s streaming and she’s studying in the background and everyone is so confused because what the hell does she do there??? Is it chemistry or maths or physics or what. She tells them about it and they are lost after “oh I can explain it to you guys” the rest is gibberish in their ears. Then she’s citing Shakespeare or Bulgakov and everyone believes Lando. But there’s more important question to ask that bothers them “how did he pull her and did she fall on her head really hard when she agreed on dating?”

this is so cute i love them being like “lando thinks she’s smart so she’s probably just better at making choices than he is” and instead it’s “she’s getting two degrees at once and still coming to visit lando at races when she has time.”

a challenge would be so funny like imagine just a trivia game and she answers every single question. they have to ring a bell to answer and she’d be ringing before they’re done asking the question. everyone is confused why she knows so much about everything and she’s just like “wdym? you don’t know the exact date this obscure historical thing happened?”

imagine max and oscar coming over to hang and she’s studying so they’re trying to help her by reading flashcards but they can’t pronounce the big technical words. she’d be answering the questions while they’re still trying to pronounce the name of some chemical. or she like finishes the question with perfect pronunciation and gives the right answer, another word they can’t pronounce, and they’re so amazed.

she turns into the grids personal google when they realize she knows a little bit about everything, like someone offhand asks something stupid and everyone is making fun of him and she’s like “no actually thats a great question! i think about it all the time and the answer is-” and everyone shuts up and listens bc she articulates everything so well and can take a complex topic and simplify it for them. she’ll bring race logic in sometimes when explaining stuff. anytime someone has a question they’re finding her to ask bc google will give a complex answer and she’ll dumb it down. she’s the settler of many debates and arguments bc they think she’s the smartest.

she’s sitting at the pit walls during races and is practically an engineer just from absorbing all the info while she watches them work. maybe shes in school to be an engineer or mechanic but when lando told them she’s still in school he didn’t say what for and they think like lando would be dating a nurse or something like that bc it seems his type. then they meet her at a race, they see her in the mclaren garage and she’s in mclaren gear talking ab the car with them so they think she’s a mclaren employee and some of the guys would probably be texting each other like “hey there’s a new cute mclaren engineer have you seen her??” until lando introduces her as his girlfriend and ppl are like wait she doesn’t work for mclaren? how does she know so much ab the car? and lando’s just annoyed bc no one believed him that his girlfriend was a genius.

she’d be besties w the mechanics and engineers and they help her study bc they understand her coursework. sometimes she’ll know what’s wrong with lando’s car but not say anything bc she’s not qualified for it and doesn’t work for them so they wouldn’t listen to her if she did so she sits quietly while they try and figure it out. eventually they get it and lando would have noticed the way she went quiet and just watched and know she’s thinking about how to fix his car and he’s just like “wow my girlfriend is so smart i love her so much.” her getting hired after graduating and working on lando’s team. iconic.

no one gets how they started dating or even met until they all go to a club after a race and after a single shot she loses any and all brain cells she ever had. everyone realizes they must have met at a club bc there’s no other way the super genius and lando could have ever met that would make sense.

#ask #ln4 blurb #lifeboredme

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basicbatboys · 11 months

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🌙 Hi! I see a lot of Jason Todd x reader fics where the reader is really confident and sexy and badass, but I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is very shy. I’m really socially anxious and awkward and sometimes I’m really quiet or I pause and stutter or say words in the wrong order when I’m nervous. I’d love to see a reader like that ☺️

Howdy sunshine! What a lovely request! I am so glad you opened my eyes to diversifying the types of readers I write for so you can look forward to more of this stuff in the future (: I hope you enjoy it! I'm sorry for how long it took me to get back to you!

________

“Is it good?” Jason asked as you took your first sip of coffee.

You nodded, tipping the cup back and allowing the hot goodness to slip into your mouth. As you did, you realized it was way too hot and you drank it way too soon after you got it. You swallowed thickly and a grimace spread across your face. You stuck out your tongue with a plech and fanned at it.

Jason tilted his head back and laughed. “Too hot? Why did you say it was good before you tried it?”

You shrugged and returned your tongue to it’s rightful place. “I don’t know.”

He smiled and ruffled your hair. “You’re too sweet.”

You smiled shyly and looked down at the ground. You never really knew what to do when Jason complimented you. You were too awkward to ever say anything back but it didn’t seem to ever bother him and for some reason that bothered you.

“Come on.” He said, taking your free hand. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded and clasped your hand around his.

___

The two of you entered the apartment, your coffee still in hand. You hadn’t taken a sip since the “incident” and you weren’t sure if you ever would. But you would feel so bad not drinking it since he had paid for it, you didn’t want to waste his money. You got in your own head, staring blankly at the cup before Jason pulled you out of the rabbit hole you’d been digging.

“Baby? You okay?” He asked, looking at you with concern.

“Uh, yeah.” You muttered. “I just, well, I was just thinking. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?” He asked, stepping toward you.

“It’s stupid, it doesn’t matter.” You replied, playing with the rim of your cup.

Jason smiled and closed the gap between the two of you. “It’s not stupid if you’re the one thinking it. You’re the smartest person I know.”

You frowned and looked up at him. “Why do you always do that?” You asked, your tone accusing.

“Do what?” Now he was frowning too.

“Reassure me. Compliment me. I’m so weird and bumbling and you’re so cool. I... I don’t even understand why you like me. It feels fake." A tear dripped from your eye as the honesty came pouring. You couldn't look at him. "I’m just waiting for you to tell me you were joking the whole time and you never even liked me in the first place.” Tears pricked at your eyes as you spoke, your eyes trained downward. You stumbled over your words, unable to speak clearly and directly. “I just… I feel… I… I don’t know.”

Jason wrapped a hand around your cup and took it from you, setting it on the countertop. He used two fingers to pull your gaze toward his.

“Look at me.” He said, his voice low and soothing. “I mean everything I say to you. You are everything to me. I don’t care if you’re awkward or different, it’s why I like you. You’re a good person, even if you can’t always articulate your thoughts. You’re beautiful, even if you don’t believe me when I say it. I would never lie to you. I would never say something I didn’t mean. You are my world. I like you just the way you are. I can be myself around you. We all make mistakes, we all slip up. I like how authentic you are. You’re never pretending to be someone you’re not. You’re perfectly imperfectly you and that’s why I love you.” He dropped his hand and placed it on your waist.

Your eyes widened. “W-What?” You asked, searching his eyes for any sense that he was lying.

You couldn’t find any.

“I love you.” He repeated. He pressed his lips against yours and when he pulled away he was smiling. “Just the way you are.”

You bit your lip and looked away, and in a moment of rare confidence, you looked him right in the eye.

“I love you too, Jason.”

#dc fanfic #x reader #fanfic #fluff #jason todd #one shot #dc one shot

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yellow-n-blue-hyperfixation · 1 year

Text

eyecatcher, by smoosnom (moonsooms)

While volunteering at the Hawkins' help center, it seems like every girl around has a newfound interest in Will Byers, and Mike doesn't know why he feels the way he does.

difficultly easy, by quietforasecond

Mike opens his eyes against the water droplets hanging off his eyelashes. Will hasn't stopped walking away from him, and he’s far enough now that Mike can no longer really see the details of his jacket. The rain feels like needles against his skin, and a frustration builds in his gut. Mike can't stand this anymore.

He breaks off into a run.

or Mike and Will finally confront each other about everything. It's raining, and things get messy.

Basement Noise, by GrasshopperKatie

Will spends a lot of time alone. Even when he’s with everyone else, it feels like there’s a static feed running in his brain that makes him feel like the only person in the room. He’s not sleeping well and has dark circles forming under his eyes. While moving to California wasn’t fun and has clearly caused a strain on the party’s dynamic, he would take that over the endless nights of no sleep and the complete terror he felt when they drove back into Hawkins and that prickling sensation on the back of his neck started again. He always knew getting a whole year without dealing with this shit was unrealistic.

outlined in guilt, my portrait stares (in a gallery where the walls lie bare), by catboy_cabin

Though Mike hasn't seen many of Will's paintings – not recent ones, at least, and especially nothing like this – there isn't a doubt in his mind that this is one of them. It has all the hallmarks of Will’s style, in the depth of emotion displayed by the eyes alone; in the way Mike's freckles are much more visible than they have any business being; in the dark lighting and drab colors that Will always uses to depict the landscape of his trauma, when he just needs to get all the horrific images immortalized by his brain out.

(It hurts, to find himself rendered like some monstrous thing straight out of the Upside Down.

Mike probably deserves it.)

or: vecna has a tempting offer for mike.

i has a dream (i got everything i wanted), andiwriteordie

“No.” The word escapes Mike’s lips, and it’s barely a whisper. Tears blur his vision, and he turns back around to El, trembling. “N-no, that… that can’t be right… Will… he-he can’t be gone, El; he can’t be dead—”

“Oh, Mike,” El whispers. She reaches up, wiping the tears from Mike’s eyes, and there’s a look on her face—so tender and so, so kind. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Her words hit like a bucket of ice water being dumped on him, and Mike recoils, staring at his girlfriend—no, wait, his wife—in horror. “W-what? How… how could you say that, El? How could you say that?!”

Or:

An encounter with Vecna forces Mike to reconsider just what it is he really wants in his life.

I Wish I Knew You Wanted Me, by FoodieHoodie

It may be the end of the world, but Mike's too busy being distracted by Will, especially since he's using the excuse of being a team to keep Will close and share his room. ~~

i keep my distance (but you still catch my eye), by andiwriteordie

“I don’t want to lose you,” Mike says suddenly, because screw it. Screw it. He’s going to say exactly what he needs to say—all the words that have been too messy and too difficult to articulate for the past couple of years, for reasons Mike doesn’t fully understand.

no takesies-backsies, by AttaBoyLuther

"Why did you lie?"

Will felt gravity leave him, felt his body untether itself from this mortal realm and float directly into the setting sun. The room was casted in a yellow-gold, beamless and directionless - and because Will was a sinner, he replied, "About what?"

Mike's face creased. He shook the rolled up painting, tightening his fist around it. "About this, Will. Don't play dumb."

(AKA: Oh, you know - just your standard Mike-finds-out-about-the-painting confrontation.)

so, for once in my life, by MeltingSnow

“Mike?” Dustin’s words interrupted Mike’s thoughts. He simply hummed a reply, still looking at Will. God, why was he so obvious?His eyes just couldn’t seem to pull away from him. There was just something so captivating about Will. How could one ever look away from him? Ever look away from the living embodiment of a star at the centre of its own solar system? Such great gravity, you couldn’t help but be pulled towards it. It wasn’t Mike’s fault. It was only natural– a force of nature. One of Newton’s laws or something along those lines. He couldn’t really remember.

My take on post-painting reveal byler and how they deal with their emotions.

what a match: i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet, by perexcri

One month ago, if you had asked Will Byers what he’d do if Mike Wheeler threaded his fingers through his hair, looked him dead in the eyes, and started leaning in for a kiss, he wouldn’t have said this.

He wouldn’t have said he’d be staring right back into those yawning dark eyes, one hand on Mike’s waist, the other against his cheek. There wouldn’t have been any lightning in his veins or blood rushing in his ears.

He wouldn’t have said that Mike Wheeler would be tilting his head in the opposite direction, eyes widening just the slightest as if asking permission, his mouth slightly parted.

He wouldn’t have imagined it at all.

baby, we’re perfect, by bookinit

Mike grabs Will’s hands and tangles them with his own, blinking up at him through his long, dark lashes. His eyes are endless. Solid black, like the night above them. So shiny that Will can see himself, tipsy and happy, in the reflection. “I want to be stuck with you,” Mike whispers, like it’s a secret. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

Will sucks in a sharp breath, squeezing his hands. “Then don’t,” he whispers back, punched-out and honest. “Stay.”

—

Senior year in Hawkins. Will and Mike figure some things out.

#byler #bylerficrecweek

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the-tripping-and-the-touching · 1 year

Text

Landslide (series)

Part One

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You've lost something in a hiking accident... are you prepared for it to come back?

Warnings: Severe injury, hospitalization due to said injury, amnesia, short mention of smoking

MASTERPOST

Playlist

The smell of rubbing alcohol hit your nose before the beeping of a heart rate monitor made you force your eyes open. They darted to the boy holding your hand, his eyes heavy and smile somber. Josh’s features were ones you’d been studying devotedly for almost a decade, but it seemed like in the span of a nap they’d changed so dramatically that it took you a moment to even recognize him. His longer hair had been cut and now formed in curls, laying over the top of his head and threatening to hide the way the sides were now neatly shaved. The way his jaw clenched accentuated just how much sharper it had become. It was hard to determine if the dark circles were from the hospital stay you were clearly enduring, or if they were just part of his new look. You chose to ignore the fuzzy feeling that infiltrated your mind and cleared your throat.

“What happened?” He obviously wasn’t in a hospital bed as well, but he still had cuts and what you gathered to be the beginnings of some pretty nasty bruises scattered around his body. His eyes made their way around your face as he contemplated the best way to tell you.

“We went home after they discharged us, but you… you passed out, so I brought you back and, well-” his head turned as he gestured broadly to the room around the two of you. “They set you up in here, they uh, they didn’t know how long it would be until you’d wake up so I’ve just been waiting here watch- uh, keeping an eye on you.” It hit you that his eyes weren’t heavy and circled from just being tired. He’d been worried. Deeply. But you had no idea what his explanation even meant as he stumbled through the words.

“What do you mean they discharged us? Josh what happened?” His breath caught in his throat as he understood the weight of the question you were asking. You imagined he was trying to find a more articulate way to explain to you, but as usual reality didn’t match the creative invention of your mind.

“I need to go get the nurse. I promise I’ll tell you everything once we get this figured out.” He stood, quickly walking to the door and letting it shut behind him. Upon inspection, you found that your body was also scraped and bruised, and your head had been wrapped in a thin bandage. Your fingers traced the shape of stitches along the side of your head, just behind your right ear, wincing at the sore feeling of the pain meds wearing off. Waiting patiently seemed impossible, but you took in your surroundings as you kept your hands folded in your lap.

The sheet on your right side had a small circular indent surrounded by wrinkles from where Josh had been laying his elbow. You noted how the chair he’d been sitting in was removed from the far end of a row below sealed windows, leaving the wall looking uneven. Next to catch your eye was his backpack, void of its typical contents and now filled with papers, both of your wallets, and his phone. You began to reach for it in search of explanation before being startled back into place by the click of the door reopening.

Josh returned with a nurse and a doctor, L. Prescott, whose coat informed you that she was head of neurology. He moved the chair and bag away as the two women began to check your vitals and wounds before standing to the side with a worried look on his face.

“So your friend here told me you can’t recall your first time here today, are there any other gaps in your memory you can determine?” Dr. Prescott asked calmly as she inspected the stitching by your ear, the sore feeling returning.

“Would you mind telling me what today is?” You turned to look at her, before clarifying, “Like, the date?” She looked at you for a moment before going back to your stitches and slowly telling the date to you. You could practically feel your brain trying to wrap around the information, the newfound realization that you couldn’t remember a single thing from the past two years, and the absolute terror you felt at the prospect of that amount of time being lost to you.

“So? Is there anything you know you can’t remember?” She stood to your side, looking to you patiently as you let your mouth open and close a few times in search of even a few words.

“I can’t remember anything since graduation.” The words felt sticky as they slipped past your lips, your eyes focused only on Josh as he absorbed the significance of what you’d just said. Dr. Prescott turned to Josh, asking how long ago, exactly, that was. When he confirmed your math, the four of you were silent for a moment.

“I would like to order an MRI,” the doctor said, now speaking to the nurse on your left, “and her charts and scans from earlier.” The nurse shuffled out of the room as Dr. Prescott looked down at you. “If the MRI doesn’t show any new damage or worsening injury, you’ll be able to return home. I’ll need you to call me if your condition worsens or your memory still hasn’t come back in any increment in a few days. The amount of time you’ve lost is a possible cause for concern but aside from that, amnesia typically resolves itself without any therapy.” She gave a small smile to Josh before giving the same to you and continuing, “I’ll take you down now, and then you two can hopefully be on your way, for good this time.”

That’s how you ended up in a wheelchair, next to Josh, filling out discharge papers at the nurse’s station. Looking up at him allowed you to watch as he alternated between clenching his jaw and chewing the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit that one of you had adopted from the other when you’d first met, though neither of you could ever remember who influenced who. After he helped you fill out the information you didn’t know, the two of you remained in relative silence as he took you down to his car and helped you into the passenger seat, looking at the patterned cement floor as you held his shoulders for stability. Once the engine came to life the radio began buzzing incoherently, slowly gaining clarity as he drove you out of the underground parking structure.

“It’s going to be fun to watch you see home for the first time.” He smiled, making his way through a city you couldn’t recognize. It was clear he was trying to lighten the mood, but a promise is a promise and you wanted answers.

“Josh, why the fuck are we in Oregon?” It was more of a demand for information than a genuine question, and he huffed as the car stopped for a red light.

“We go to school here, OSU, re-” he caught himself, then continued, “And we work at that film studio you found for us, Bedrock.” Josh looked over to you to watch your brow knot and lips turn into a sharp frown, earning him a honk from the car behind you when the light turned green. As if he could read your mind, he kept going. “We hike pretty often here, I found us some pretty good trails close to home. This morning we were doing Alsea Falls because you said you wanted to get out of the house at least once a day all summer, but…” he let himself trail off, and you could tell he’d gotten to the real explanation. “It’s been raining a lot lately, like those real genuine thunderstorms we’d always wait for, and we were up on a pretty untouched part of the path. A rockslide started and it swept both of us up but you, you hit your head on one of the boulders. I had to dig myself out and then find you.”

His expression was blank when you raised your eyes to his face, focused on the road, but he was biting his cheek again. “But why did I have to go back to the hospital?” You shifted towards him in your seat, leaning the side of your head against the rest.

“They discharged us the first time after a few tests, so we both called out of work for tomorrow and I took us home. I was making tea in the kitchen when I heard you just drop, so I ran you out to the car and took us right back to the hospital.” He swallowed loudly at the memory, almost nervously.

“I really don’t remember any of that.” He nodded softly, staying silent. You scrambled to find something to say, because literally anything would be better than the melancholic atmosphere that was crushing your chest. “So we live together?” Was the first question you thought of that could be asked with a smile.

If you were being honest, that one fact kind of made this whole ordeal seem alright. You’d met Josh at a sleepaway camp the summer before 7th grade that had taken you to Lake Huron for 2 weeks to be immersed in nature and knowledge. It seemed daunting, but the anxiety you had over being away for so long melted away the second you met Josh. Since then, you’d been inseparable, spending every available moment with each other, making your plans around your shared calendar and becoming known to everyone else as a package deal. He’d been your dance date, your chaperone to the city, and your carpool buddy. Not to mention your biggest crush.

As time went on it just became harder to even think about admitting how you felt, though. Your families quickly bonded and your friend groups became one pretty much immediately, and who were you to ruin it all over some adolescent feelings? So the idea that you were actually living with Josh made your heart flutter, though it wasn’t like close proximity had ever been a foreign concept in your relationship. Rather, it was because he’d called the house you two shared home.

“Yeah, we figured it only made sense to go to the same school and neither of us wanted to risk it with student housing so we just found a place on the edge of town. Plus you said you couldn’t bear getting stuck with someone who had bad music taste.” The grin on his face was infectious despite the smug note it had, and you couldn’t help but smirk back at him.

“I guess I couldn’t fill all of my requirements.” You teased, watching as his eyes rolled and his beaming smile betrayed his attempts at annoyance.

“Yeah yeah. We’re home.” You could recognize your car in the driveway, but that was about it. The lights were off, obscuring your view of the interior as Josh rounded the hood of the car to help you out. Once your feet were on solid ground you promised you were just fine, spinning in a circle with your arms out just to prove it, his eyes rolling at you again as he made his way to the front door.

The communal space was wide, the living room to your left and the kitchen to your right. You could recognize a few plants as yours, and the large jukebox style record player as one that you and Josh found at the end of senior year. You’d spent every day in his garage after finals, refurbishing the whole thing until it was at peak performance. Back then you had no clue what you would do with it besides using it as a speaker as the two of you smoked in the only spot windy enough to blame the smell on the neighbors if his parents asked. You guessed that the sentimental value is what convinced you to make the effort to move it to a new state.

Josh began introducing you to the space, using his hands to gesture at doors like a gameshow host. “Your room is on the right. First door on the left is the bathroom and the second is -”

“Your room.” The corners of your lips turned up as your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. He stood still for a moment before holding onto you, almost too tightly. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the way he buried his face into your neck, his breath warm against your collarbone. You stood there, reveling in the feeling of your chests pressing closer with each breath. His regular warm scent was covered by that of nature and rubbing alcohol, so it took you a moment to find the woody citrus that you were so familiar with. Neither of you moved, apart from some slight involuntary swaying, until something crashed in the neighbor’s yard and you released him from your hold.

“Your phone is on your bed stand, that’s where you put it when you got home last time. I called your parents once I got you readmitted, but they’ll want to hear your voice. If I made you tea again would you actually drink it or just pass out again?” He grinned proudly at his joke, annoying in a way you only had the ability to find endearing.

You rolled your eyes at him as a form of acceptance, then turned to step across the warm wood floor to your already open door. As the smell of a candle hit you, you could suddenly recall the day you moved in. Josh had lit some incense he’d found in a shady metaphysical shop on your way to town and it stunk up the whole house. So, the two of you acquainted yourselves with your front yard as the house aired out, and you’d lit a few of your candles upon reentry.

The memory’s fondness escaped you, however, the moment you saw the amount of notifications your mom had left on your phone. You immediately called her, having to pull the phone away from your ear due to the yells your parents were letting out on the other end. Once they calmed down, you explained the entirety of the situation as you understood it. Your voice was steady, but the second you mentioned amnesia you heard your dad run off, and you knew in your heart he was buying tickets for the first flight up.

After a few minutes of reassuring your mom you were just fine, and already recovering quickly, she informed you that they’d be at your place by 10 tomorrow morning. Once the several drawn out goodbyes were over, you hung up and made your way back to your kitchen. You had to admit, the place was cute, especially for the limited budget you must have had.

Josh handed you a mug and the two of you sat at the kitchen table as you let him know to expect your parents the next day. The first few sips warmed you up through your chest as the kitchen’s decor caught your eye. The lovely shade of green painted on the cabinets was what you focused on as you came up with a new question for Josh. “Do I still let you light incense after that first day?” You asked nonchalantly, knowing you’d get exactly the reaction you wanted from him.

“You remember?” He leaned in excitedly as he asked, sporting his signature toothy smile and bright eyes at the recollection. It was like he’d somehow gotten a full night’s sleep in the span of a second the way his eyes opened to their regular size and gained a certain sparkle.

“I can’t believe I ever forgot.” You laughed, but he stayed delighted despite your ribbing. The room had started to dim around the two of you, and your eyelids suddenly grew heavy from the events of the day. “I think I should probably go get some sleep after everything.” He rose with you and gave you another hug, albeit much shorter than the first of the evening. “Goodnight Josh. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, all I ask in return is that you don’t go fainting on me again.” His smile was audible as he took the mugs to the sink to rinse them out. “Goodnight.”

NOTE: Thank you so much for reading the first part of this series I've been dying to write! I have so much in store for you all, and I'm so excited to have you along on this adventure.

PLEASE let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist <3

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka x reader #gvf fic #landslide fic

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residentdormouse · 1 year

Text

Reiterating those Rogue ‘R’ Words

I will reluctantly but respectfully relinquish the reins on the ‘r’ alliteration and renounce any reclaim, regardless of ‘Resident’ reoccuring in my repertoire. In retrospect, your ratio of resounding ‘r’ rhythms ring more readily than my own. Remarkably, even with more reserves running rampant, I’m rubbish at rounding up the required rolling resonance. Maybe I should rethink my rapport with the reverberation before rescinding my right and reaping any resulting repercussions, but really? Any further redundant repetition on my part would be rudimentary at best.

(I’ll give you the “r”s @mrsmungus , not sure I can find any good alliteration using them in mine; I just like saying ‘Fuck off, Flagg’😂)

My Words: Rather, Rest, Reveal, Road, River

Your Words: Support, Scared, Sincere, Star, Safe

If you feel inclined to join, don’t hesitate to ‘@’ me! -OPEN TAG-

Rather

(I thought I used this more than I did. Weird. Ah well, a lot of them are very spoiler-ish, so this is the least of the bunch I think? TW referenced drug use in case that’s an issue.)

“Both of us. Attachments only cause problems.”

“You really are full of shit, you know that? Problems? Pretty sure the way you're living, causing problems is exactly what you're doing right now. Fucking people you consider desposable while doing coke in the back of clubs. You’re saying attachments are more problematic than that?! That makes zero–”

“Because people leave, Harold! They die!”

And there its was, the raw nerve that needed the walls, that required her to wear a mask. Running from a past that would never leave her.

“So you’d rather not even bother, then? Hm. I guess, you just didn’t seem like the type.”

Everything stopped. Her movements, expressions, breath. She was frozen until the words were fully actualized.

“What did you say…”

“Being afraid, playing it safe. Hiding away. Never would have guessed that was the real you, Max.”

The rise and fall of her chest was staggered, and he could tell she was doing her best to control herself. After a few moments, she let out her short but articulated reply.

“Fuck. You. Harold.”

Rest

"Mother Abagail said that we need to have faith. I'm not sure what's beyond here. God. An afterlife. Heaven. Hell. I don't have much faith in all that. But I have faith in you. If this is going to be successful, you'll need to be ready for him."

He put a hand on her cheek, and her shoulders slumped down, head leaning forward to rest against his. A brief moment passed before he urged her to look back at him. Still wet, her eyes shimmered, but held anything further at bay.

“So what do you say, Giggles? Give this another shot?”

She nodded her reply, took a deep breath, and adjusted herself into a comfortable position. She let her eyes close and let her mind focus solely on his words in the moment.

Reveal

(I can only use one sentence because both before and after are spoiler heavy, but its a reference to a canon joke, and it made me laugh when I read it.)

Teddy fired a couple shots, finally revealing the gun he had yet to shoot his dick off with.

Road

(Road and rest in one go - double whammy.)

“Ah, c'mon, nobody saw that coming… Come here,” he held out his hand to her, and she pushed the blanket to the side to take it. In a quick movement, she was pulled up and wrapped in a hug. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she couldn’t argue; this warmth was prefered to that of the blanket. As she continued to regulate her breathing, he continued with his thought. “You can’t just stop all the bad things from happening. Bad things happen to good people, for no good reason, all the time. You can only try to help, and I think you are doing that more than you’re giving yourself credit for. So no, it's not for nothing. Who knows how much worse it would be right now if you didn’t try. No sense going down that road.”

The speech gave her thought; who knows, really. But somehow she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was meant to be, that she was fighting a losing battle.

“It's what he said… I’m afraid of who I was, failing at who I am, and I’m not able to help anybody…just wasting energy on dead men.”

He pulled back slightly, holding her by the shoulders, looking directly in her eyes, searching her face.

“You’re letting him get to you is what you’re doing. Don’t give him that.” He gave her a kiss to the forehead, and she leaned into him again. “Let's get some rest though, this is going to be top of the agenda for tomorrow's meeting.”

“So much for enjoying the win tonight…”

River

(Only two instances of River between both stories. This ones in reference to the song ‘The Humbling River’, which I definitely listened to more than I should have while writing this.)

"You sure about that? You think I don't know your type? Haven't gone rounds with a few tough guys that thought they were some kind of hot shit? Rough exterior, but all raw nerves underneath."

"Lot of assumptions you're making."

"You want to tell me I'm wrong?"

Her eyebrow arched to further advance the question, but there was no response from him. "Nobody here's going to hold you to your past beliefs or practices. Past mistakes. We all have our demons, blood on our hands. Some more than others. As long as you're making an honest effort to change, want to change... Well, what you were back then, it isn't the only path forward, and you might be surprised what you’ll find on others."

"Hmm, again with the mission statements. You all pitch it alot…"

"Not really. Only have to pull it out for the stubborn assholes who think they can do everything themselves.” This time she wasn’t waiting around for a response; he heard it or he didn’t. It was, however, a calculated strike, and she was rarely wrong about these things. She breezed past him into the kitchen to pull the curtains. “Never gonna make it over the river that way. Alone. You need help, and you have an opportunity here. One I'm sure you're not getting anywhere else."

Lack of an immediate answer told her she hit a spot.

#readers are rolling their eyes #mouse's tag games & reblogs #riding the train to alliteration station

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the-hidden-pages · 3 years

Text

Misread Affections - Laszlo Kreizler/Fem!Reader SMUT

I started at midnight. I had 0 words. It’s 4:30am. I have 4643 words because I have fallen deeply for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. Forgive me for this.

Synopsis: With all your history together, you and Doctor Kreizler believe you understand each other. Yet when you believe him to be infatuated with Karen Stratton, and he believes you to have affection for Marcus Isaacson, you’re both stunned when you find yourselves to be proven wrong.

Warnings: NSFW. Desk Sex. Dirty Talk. Patient-to-Friend-to-Lover. Definite depression and general self-loathing.

SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND SEASON!!!!!!

You had always admired the man Doctor Laszlo Kreizler was.

He championed those who could not champion themselves. He worked tirelessly to understand the minds of criminals. To those very same criminals, and many others that lived as outcasts to society, he would offer kindness and understanding. At his best he was beyond intelligent and, daresay, sweet.

At his worst, he was ruthless, and his own self-loathing would have him come across as unempathetic most days. While preaching to others to care for himself, he would often forego his own care. While offering an ear and a receptive mind, he would refuse to offer himself the same.

You knew this within mere days of knowing Doctor Kreizler. And such facts made you rather fond of him.

A fondness that was not helped by his handsome build, his dark locks, his scrutinizing gaze.

And yet no part of you could justify ever acting upon this fondness.

You had come to him both as a patient and a colleague. You had always been aware of a darkness within yourself, ever since you were a child. This darkness had only grown, too often all-consuming, leaving you. a dysfunction wreck of a human being. However, you had an obligation to keep going, a promise you had sworn to your sister to continue your own existence. So, exist you did.

While your family’s fortune wasn’t enough to send you to Harvard, like the Doctor himself, it did allow for you to be a reasonably educated woman of the times. A deep fascination in understanding your own darkness led you to the work of alienists, and eventually to the work of Doctor Kreizler.

While you couldn’t often justify breaking societal rules to such an extent, you found yourself motivated enough to call upon the Doctor with a proposition – should he aide you in understanding your own illness of the brain, you would offer any services you could to the Kreizler Institute.

You could tell he was curious of you. A woman of your standing did not often make such demands with such authority, nor so blatantly admit to her own illnesses. He quickly agreed, eager to study why you considered yourself so damaged, and happy to take on an extra set of hands with the children he looked after.

Over time, you begun to slip effortlessly into Doctor Kreizler’s life.

You met the likes of Cyrus and Stevie, along with many others that worked at the Institute. You were then blown away by the strength within Miss Sara Howard, and the pure, undiluted love that Mister John Schuyler Moore could show others. You were even called upon on several occasions to be a fresh set of eyes, the murders of young boy prostitutes and kidnappings of babies not deterring you, to the surprise and reluctant joy of the Doctor.

And as Doctor Kreizler studied you, you studied him.

You slowly learned of all the emotion he kept hidden behind the façade of professionalism. The kindness, the love, the anger, the fear. While he showed none of these most days, occasionally a concoction of such feeling would burst in an overwhelming outpour.

In offering him a platonic safe space, a place for him to talk through such outbursts should he wish, he in turn aided you.

The darkness you felt for so long began to subside some days, and between the efforts of him and a passing remark from John, you learned of an outlet for your darker thoughts – writing.

While expressing your own emotions and turmoil did not come easy, you found it far simpler when written down on paper, as opposed to spoken aloud to a judging room.

Doctor Kreizler gifted you a beautiful leather-bound journal a mere day after this revelation, with the request that you record your thoughts. He promised he would not read it unless you requested him to as an act of therapy.

For many days, you allowed him to read any thoughts that came to mind.

Thoughts of blood, of death, of pain and anger. Thoughts of a stolen childhood, of worthlessness, of longing.

Many days when he read your pages, you would be silently crying as he did, fearful of his judgement. But it never came.

Instead, he would close the book silently, and offer you professional advice.

One particularly rough day, in which your narrative was beyond vicious to you, he closed the book before finishing, and offered you something you didn’t expect – an embrace.

He hugged you so tightly, that for once…

Your inner monologue ceased.

His own, however, raged on.

How could you think so lowly of yourself, he wondered? While he could understand mindsets built from trauma, he couldn’t help but wish you could see yourself through his own eyes. Your empathy when you cared for the children in the Institute. Your intelligence when conversing with Miss Howard. Your artistic delight when laughing with John. And the perspective, the warmth you offered such a broken man such as himself.

Neither of you knew, in that exact moment, that the other was realizing the fondness you both held in your hearts for each other.

And neither of you knew how truly broken the other felt at their core.

Two souls, believing themselves to be undeserving of love, finding it in their hearts for the other.

When the beautiful, cunning Doctor Karen Stratton entered the picture, you asked Doctor Kreizler to refrain from reading your journal.

He was hurt by this, but profession and courtesy claimed that he could not show it.

You began to withdraw from him, placing your entire focus on the case of the stolen babies and your focus on the children in the Institute. Kreizler, in his own difficulties of potentially losing the said Institute, took notice of your own withdrawal from your sessions, but held enough hope that you had found stability to care for yourself. You still conversed with Sara, you smiled with John. You had even been introduced to the Isaacsons, and he had wondered if you had taken a liking to Marcus.

You deserved a young man such as him, he told himself, heart heavy. A whole, young man with enough strength to support you.

And on the night of Marcus’ death, he believed it to be confirmed.

He found you alone, in his study where you so often had your sessions with him. You were curled inwards on yourself, clutching your journal as though it were your lifeline, sobbing uncontrollably.

He moved to console you, arms holding you tightly.

“It’s all too much,” you choked out, unable to articulate much more.

Doctor Kreizler nodded, waiting for you to be able to go on.

You regained some breath with difficulty. “I just…I can’t stand to lose a friend. Not after everything else lately.”

“I know how difficult it can be, to lose one you love…” Kreizler began, not noticing how your sobs stopped in confusion. “After Mary, I…Well I swore I would never again…The point is, I-“ he stopped short.

You had spluttered out a laugh.

Your hand covered your mouth immediately, noticing what had just happened. You immediately moved to cover it up, wiping away your tears and standing up away from him. “No, no, Doctor. Heavens, Marcus…well, he was loved but, I saw…I see the Isaacsons as brothers I never had. He was dear to me but…not in the sense I suspect that Mary was to you.”

“I…see…” Doctor Kreizler pulled back, sitting in his study chair as he gazed at you. “Apologies, I seem to have misread your relationship. Nonetheless, his death has greatly affected you, as it has all of us. I suspect it will be a very difficult grieving process, but…” he manages a soft, rare smile that warmed your heart. “We will endure it together, as we have these cases.”

“Will we?” your voice grew empty as your thoughts swirled.

He titled his head, unsure of where this was leading. You gathered your courage to question him.

“Rumour has it, Doctor Stratton has asked you to join her in Vienna. I wonder if you’ll go.”

Silence falls over the room.

Laszlo couldn’t understand what this had to do with anything. Your crying, your distress over Marcus. What did his leaving have to do with any of your distress?

“You’re greatly upset by something,” he eventually said, gazing at you with a more analytical eye than before. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit, if you think I know the specifics of it.”

“I-“ you stopped, clearing your throat as you choked up. Your knuckles turned white on your journal’s edges, hands shaking. “Doctor Kreizler-“

“It’s been months since we’ve known each other,” he interrupts, “and we haven’t held a session together in nearly five weeks. Would it pain you to call me Laszlo? Are we not…friends?”

You gaped at him, but his face remained unreadable.

You shake your head. “Yes, it…it would pain me. It would pain me a great deal, Doctor – it does pain me a great deal to hear you call me a friend when…”

“When what?” he prompts you sharply, and you inhale quickly.

“When I feel I’ve been dishonest with you, unkind to you…” had the room not been dead still, Laszlo might have missed the next words you whispered. “I feel I’ve been perverse to you.”

If he was confused, he didn’t show it. And you were talking now, the words spilling out, a cascade unable to end.

“I feel as though…had Marcus not…died…tonight, I might never have done this. But then my mind, it began spinning so quickly I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t help but imagine countless scenarios in which Libby, in which the Dusters, in which…well, in which any number of causes might take your life as well. In which you might die before…before I can confess…” You huff, your words getting caught once again. With a determined move, your arm shot out to pass your journal to him, and Kreizler takes note of a particular page being creased.

He looks up at you, but you don’t meet his eye.

“I’ve marked where I want you to start reading. Just…go from there. Inform me when you’re finished.”

You walk over to the window, desperate to be distracted, as Doctor Kreizler opens the book and reads at your request.

He can’t comprehend what he’s reading at first.

While he had grown accustomed to your twisted perception of yourself, he hadn’t realized just how ruthless the self-loathing could take you. Endless doubt of your friendships with the team, with your position as a caretaker, in your abilities to be a friend. And as words continue, he realizes your doubts in being a partner, a lover.

If he grows flustered at the words he reads, he’s determined not to show it to you.

He reads your envy of women like Sara Howard, able to move forward with such strength and certainty, and of Karen Stratton, so brash, so forward. Your envy is strong towards her, in her abilities to understand sexuality, passion, human desire, and in…

In her connection to himself.

His eyes widen as your own ramblings seem to uncover a truth you hadn’t explored before – your attraction to the Doctor that had aided you, offered you employment. The pure taboo of such affections, yet your inability to stop it. Your adoration, your admiration for the intimidating, raw man that he was. How you felt unworthy, that you would hold him back, that he deserved a woman as delightful as Doctor Stratton, a woman who could stimulate him academically, that could pleasure him physically. How you felt so deeply ashamed of harbouring such elicit fantasies of the man that had been nothing but kind to you. How you loved him so deeply it made you want to die, because you would never be deserving –

You heard the journal snapping shut, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face the Doctor, knowing what he must’ve read, dreading what he must now be thinking.

The silence lasted far longer than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

“I find myself taken aback more often than I like,” Kreizler’s voice shatters the still air. “I believe myself to be so wise, so understanding of the mind, and yet I come across a mind such as yours that I…I truly cannot fathom how you think what you think.”

“I’m sorry,” you start, voice breaking as tears begin to flow again.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your own. You don’t dare to turn around, frozen like a rabbit having been sniffed out by a hound.

“You think me to be attracted to Doctor Stratton, am I correct?”

You nod. Of course, he was. Was it not obvious?

“Karen and I are colleagues, and friends, should I be too bold to assume so. I can recognize that she is a physically beautiful woman, yes, and I’m sure some day she will make a man a very happy husband, should she wish. But her and I have a kinship, a partnership, not unlike what I believe you and Marcus might have had, that I too misinterpreted as love.”

You sniff, closing your eyes tightly. What was he trying to tell you?

Doctor Kreizler spins you around slowly, leading you to face him.

“I do not harbour half the affection in my heart for Doctor Stratton as I do for you.”

You freeze. “Doctor-“

“Please,” he reaches up to cup your face, wiping away several of the tears that had fallen. “Please call me Laszlo. You are not the only one to have an epiphany after the loss of our friend, my dear. If you are being so honest with me, I feel it only right to offer you the same.”

“Laszlo…” you whisper, meeting his eyes for the first time since he read your words. His heart breaks with the pain within them. “How can you do this? Look at me, hold me, when you see how broken I am? I’m undeserving-“

“You would choose to love, to care for a cripple, a shell of a man in the eyes of society. A man who has too often neglected the children he cares for, often spat in the face of those he dares to call his friends. If either of us is undeserving of the other’s love, my dear, it’s me.”

Your brows furrow angrily, reaching up to mirror him, cupping his own face with both of yours. “Laszlo Kreizler you stop that right now, I won’t hear any more of…you’re smiling. How could you be smiling?”

He leans into one of your hands affectionately, a rare, dashing smile lighting up his features in a way you cherished to see, despite the circumstances. “Perhaps we are both wrong. Perhaps…perhaps we need each other, to use each other’s eyes and hearts to understand who we truly are. We both have such lowly opinions of ourselves but…perhaps it was meant to be.”

Your own smile was beginning to form, despite your best efforts, as your brain’s screaming of all that could go wrong began to quieten.

“I hesitate to believe in fate, Doctor…” you trail off, taking a step closer, your heart filled with hope and eyes filled with wonder. “I hesitate further to admit to needing someone, and yet…my brain is only ever kind and quiet when I’m around you.”

Laszlo’s weaker arm rests on your hip, while the thumb of the hand caressing your face moves to trace your chin. “My language is not as…poetic, as yours, my dear,” he confesses, and you both chuckle, “but I very much would like to kiss you, with your permission.”

“Laszlo, you could do anything to me,” you confess, reaching forward to finally meet his lips.

It’s messy, and uncoordinated, but any lack of experience the pair of you may have is made up for by the pure, electric eagerness that overtakes the both of you. You’re both exploring, testing each other, in some give and take dance that does not seem to quell any emotions within you, instead quite the opposite.

You could kiss him forever, you quickly realize.

But by some cruel twist of fate, you have to pull away, air taking priority.

You stare wildly at him as he breathes heavily, eyes darker than you had ever seen, with a sense of uncertainty that you hadn’t ever seen about him before.

A teasing smile finds its way onto your face, as you can’t help but test your luck.

“How far, exactly, did you read in my book?”

He blinks at you a couple of times, uncertain of your line of questioning. “I read of your jealousy, of your shame, I don’t…I don’t believe I finished it all, I found I had to address the issue before I continued –“

“Would you like to know what else was in there?”

Laszlo appeared flustered as you led him back to his plush chair, and you knelt down between his legs to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground. You don’t offer it to him, however, instead putting it aside.

“My dear, I don’t –“

“I ask you to stop me, if my advances are too…forward to you, Laszlo.”

You slowly rise from your place, moving to lift your skirts so you might position yourself above the Doctor, straddling him in his chair. As if on its own accord, his good hand rises to situate on your waist tightly. You gently grasp his weaker hand, his “broken wing”, and lift it to your mouth, delicately kissing the palm, each finger.

Laszlo mutters your name, transfixed by your mouth’s movements.

“I would love every part of you,” you begin, continuing your assault of affection as you whisper against the part of him, he views as most broken. “I would care for you in every capacity in which I’m capable. I would strive to be deserving of you in every which way.” You drop his hand and lean forward, hands grasping the back of the chair as you hold his gaze. “I would have you claim every part of me, I would have your marks for the world to see, if you wished. I’ve dreamt of you and I in the most compromising positions that I dare not say, on nearly every surface of your study, my bedroom, the Institute. I would give you every single piece of me, Laszlo, every ounce of my attraction. I would give you my darkest sins and my deepest pleasure, if you would allow me too. Please, Doctor Kreizler, let me please you.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting from your confession.

Perhaps you wondered if he would push you away, exclaiming that your desires were too much, your words too sinful, and that he would cease associations with you immediately. Perhaps you thought he would scold you for being too wanton, too unbecoming of a woman of your standing. Perhaps you hoped the worst that would happen is he would kiss you softly and instruct that you both go to bed in separate rooms, that more carnal needs could be discussed at a later date.

Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to feel Laszlo shift and harden beneath you, eyes growing so dark they were nearly completely black, and have him reach his hand to curl around the back of your neck.

And you certainly didn’t expect the deep growl that escaped him as his lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with yours frantically, animalistically.

Neither of you had experience, you both knew this.

But you both knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that would be enough to motivate you.

You both took what you could, Laszlo leaving your lips to reach what he could of your neck, lavishing it with lips and tongue. He explored expertly, quickly learning what you liked based upon the quickening of your breath, of your pulse. What was left of his analytical mind was fascinated by the chain reaction of events, how you spurred each other on.

When he nipped at your ear, your hips rolled uncontrollably, and a rough groan escaped him unconsciously.

Fascinating indeed.

He panicked slightly when you stood, wondering if he had stepped too far. The panic raised as you strode across his study, heading quickly to the door.

“Wait, my dear, I-“

“Calm down, Laszlo,” you hushed him, and he heard a loud click of the door locking from where he sat. “I merely don’t wish to be interrupted. If this is still what you wish.”

He leans back in his chair, breathing heavily, observing you as you stand once again before him. “I should be asking you what you want, my darling.”

You grin, shaking your head. “Was my speech before not enough for you to know what I want, Doctor Kreizler? Can you not infer exactly what I want from you from the writings in my journal? It’s your turn to share, else I might just leave you like this.”

His good hand involuntarily juts forward, grasping yours desperately.

“Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, and he smiles at the sound.

“Then, tell me what you wish, Doctor.”

“I wish…” he trails off, watching as your hands move upward to begin slowly undressing yourself.

“Yes?” You prompt him teasingly, continuing your motions. “Don’t mind me.”

Laszlo shifts in his chair, erection clearly visible by the bulge in his slacks. “I…I wish…” his voice trails off again as his eyes take in every inch of your skin that’s uncovered. “I wish to be with you in every manner. Intellectually, spiritually, physically. I wish to connect with you in a way I never will with any other living creature on this Earth. I wish to feel you around me, to bring you to climax. I wish to fill you, to be yours, to fuck you, to make you Mrs. Kreizler…”

He stops at that, only becoming aware of his own ramblings you straddled him once again, completely nude.

The faintest voice in his head wondered if you made him stupid, but it was silence as his eyes took you in completely.

“You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever been graced with seeing, my love.”

You pull him in to a languid kiss, gently tasting each other as your hand travels down his chest.

“You speak of love, of my being Mrs. Kreizler…” you start, almost losing your train of thought as you feel him twitch beneath you, your hips rolling to meet his. “Another day I’ll ask you to remind me of those words. But for now…” you lean forward, mouth grazing his ear, causing him to shiver. “I need you to fuck me, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.”

For all of your faith in him, you don’t expect the next feat of strength.

With only his good arm he manages to lift the pair of you from the chair, quickly placing you upwards and onto the desk of his own study, mindless of the papers underneath you, of any others that might be in the building as you shriek in surprise.

He captures your mouth with his, more forceful, captivating, as his good hand explores your form, grasping both of your breasts before heading downwards to the warmth between your thighs. His fingers collect some of the wetness that had escaped your folds and examines it with an almost mocking scientific fascination.

“Is this all for me, my darling?” he questions, and you find yourself at a loss for words as he curiously lifts his fingers to his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting you off of them.

“Fuck, Laszlo,” you whisper, reaching forward to pull him in for a kiss again as he chuckles darkly against you.

His teasing ends when your hands wander downward, now working at the buttons of his slacks frantically, your palm grazing across his length through his pants, causing him to gasp.

“My God,” he pants out, and you pull him out of his slacks. He’s hard, warm, rigid in your palm, with veins and girth that you hadn’t imagined in any of your fantasies, but was now all you could imagine filling you, ending that emptiness that you felt.

“Please,” you whimper, and he gently removes your hand, before lining his cock up with your entrance.

He meets your eyes, checking one last time to ensure this was what you wanted.

“Laszlo, please –“your begging is cut short as he breaches you slowly, pushing his full weight forward as the pair of you connect.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

A tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, your mind repeating an endless mantra of “Laszlo”, which you realize, when he’s fully inside, flush against you, that you’re muttering out loud.

“Oh, my love,” he breathes, his damaged arm lightly resting on your thigh, his other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be marks.

“You feel so right,” you mindlessly breathe, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you at the comment. You would remember that he likes praise, but…

“I don’t know that I will last long, my love,” Laszlo warns, his voice low, gravely, warm against your neck as he buries his face into it, pressing kisses into the skin of your shoulder.

It crosses your mind that you’re completely nude and he’s fully clothed, but the thought fills you with warmth rather than disappointment.

“Nor will I, but this will happen again, won’t it?” you question, a hint of doubt crossing your voice.

The Doctor silences it immediately, kissing you deeply. “Every night, every hour if you would let me, my darling. You are so wonderful…”

“Then please, fuck me Laszlo. I want to cum, I want you to fill me, I – oh!”

The first snap of his hips was relentless, and it was only more intense from there.

He was strong, sure of his movements, chasing his own pleasure and encouraging yours as much as he could, pressing kisses into your neck, your breasts, your lips, his good hand finding your hair tightly. Broken moans left you as dark, rasping breaths escaped him, and it was all too soon before you felt your peak approaching, familiar with the sensation from lonely nights with your own hand curiously working against yourself.

“Laszlo, Doctor Kreizler, I-“ at your moaning of his title, something in him snapped, and his teeth sunk into where your neck met your shoulder.

A deep cry left you as you reached your climax, a white-hot rush waving over you.

As your cunt clenched around him, Laszlo lost himself, growling his native German tongue as he lost his rhythm, heat filling you as he came.

You two didn’t have much time to come down from your highs, as the door to his home could be heard opening and closing from the floors below.

“Doctor Kreizler?” Sara Howard could be heard calling.

Your eyes wide, you rushed to put yourself back together, close wrinkled, roughly thrown back on and your hair being a wreck. You hoped you could pass it off as merely the result of a rough day, an intense mental break.

You turned to Kreizler, who was a picture of perfection, seeming to not be rattled by the events before…almost.

“Back to the case…?” he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty, and you smiled fondly at the terribly awkward, intelligent man before you.

You step forward and kiss him softly, the warmth between your legs and bruises on your thigh a reminder of what had just occurred.

“Back to the case. We can continue our escapades when it’s all over, Doctor.”

He chuckles, confidence returning to him as he nods. “I look forward to it.”

#x reader smut #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #Laszlo kreizler fanfic #smut #godpleaseletmerest #Ineedsleep

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animeomegas · 3 years

Note

Ooh would you ever do some naruto boys dom drop headcanons? I would love to see how our uchiha boys react

(Hmm, if their alpha suffered from dom drop? Let’s see~ I’ve put it under a cut because it’s suggestive in nature, but it’s not explicit.)

Naruto – You would think it would take him a little time to notice, but the whole vibe after sex is wrong, and he can’t quite put his finger on why… Then he realises how sad his alpha seems to be, how they aren’t cuddling him the way they normally do. He doesn’t really know what dom drop is, but he does know that his alpha is sad, so he tries to treat them the way they always treat him. He covers their face in kisses and definitely goes to make them some instant ramen, because everything is worse when you’re hungry! Naruto is a force of nature when it comes to making someone feel better, so he can handle this situation pretty well.

Sasuke – Sasuke is a bit thrown off and not sure what to do. He picks up on the physical tells first; shying away from affection, lingering stares at any bruises or scratches he has etc. Sasuke is not good at comforting people, not at all, but he knows he has to try something. He panics and just decides to lay on top of his alpha so they can’t cringe away and curl up there like a vaguely grumpy cat. He’s letting them know how much he loves and trusts them in his own way.

Shino – He’s read about this. He researched everything he could about sex before he started participating himself. He knows that doms often feel guilty for the way they treat their subs during sex and so he tries to rectify that in the bluntest and most hilariously Shino way possible. “You should not feel guilty. Why? Because… Because I liked what you did and consented to it.” He keeps his words steady but the slight blush on his cheekbones gives him away slightly. He then lays his head on your chest and hopes that he did enough to help clear your mind of negative thoughts.

Shikamaru – He also knows what’s going on and picks up on it in about a second. He does as much aftercare as he is able to, cleaning everything up, fetching food, getting himself and his alpha dressed again and the cuddling in bed together. If he’s also exhausted, the cleaning may have to wait until tomorrow and he would try his best to give aftercare in the form of cuddles and verbal reassurance. Shikamaru does seem to know that right things to say in this situation and he’s very helpful.

Neji – He really has no idea what’s going on, and honestly, he just assumes that something is wrong in his alpha’s daily life, not that his alpha is suffering from guilt or a drop in endorphins. He straight up asks them what’s wrong and if anything happened, and when his alpha just shrugs, Neji gets pretty concerned. He resolves to find out what’s wrong the next day, and in that moment, he pulls the blanket over his alpha and just tell them not to worry because they’ll figure it out together. Neji has always favoured practical solutions over emotional comfort.

Kakashi – Kakashi does pick up on it and he does know what it is. When he first experienced sub drop, his alpha made him feel less embarrassed by talking about how they one day might get dom drop. This worried Kakashi, who then proceeded to do lots of research, just in case. He never wants to be in a position where he isn’t able to help his loved ones. He finds it hard, but he tells them directly how much he loves them, gets them some water, offers to cook them something simple if they’re hungry, or run a bath for them. If nothing works, he steels himself and talks about how much what his alpha does for him sexually helps him and that they shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s a very difficult thing for him to say out loud, but he isn’t going to let his own issues stop him from treating the people he loves the way they deserve, not anymore.

Iruka – Iruka coaxes out what’s wrong slowly but surely. He’s great at getting people to articulate their feelings, it comes with being a good teacher after all, so he figures out the crux of the problem very quickly, understanding that they’re struggling with dom drop. He solves the problem with a good discussion. He sits down his alpha, talks them through how they feel and reassures them, promises that everything will feel better soon etc. Then he bundles them up in his nest with lots of snacks and a film, no matter what time of day it is.

Itachi – Itachi is used to spells of depression and so he assumes that’s what the problem is. He knows that spells of sadness are common and so he just waits it out, making sure that he is there for them. He quietly looks after them, fetching tea, picking out pyjamas, just small things. If the spell of sadness lasts for more than a day, then he gets more concerned, speaking to them in gentle tones about what’s wrong. Itachi is a great listener, so his alpha need only unload their worries and ask for help, and Itachi will do whatever it is they need with no complaint.

Gaara – Gaara does notice that something is wrong but is unsure as to whether his alpha’s low mood means anything. Sometimes people are sad and it’s not a big deal, and Gaara knows he can sometimes overreact, but what if this time it’s serious?? He ponders for a moment before he asks if everything is okay. When he can see that they are not, he takes them to the kitchen to sit while he cooks their favourite food for them, he talks quietly about what he’s doing to fill the space and then when he serves the food, he reassures them that he loves them very much and that he wants to understand what’s wrong. When they tell him it’s just a drop after sex, he feels a lot better that it’s not serious and stays by their side to stop any bad thoughts as best he can.

#naruto #omegaverse #abo #a/b/o #gn!alpha #alpha!reader #omega!naruto #omega!sasuke #omega!shino #omega!shikamaru #omega!kakashi #omega!iruka #omega!gaara #omega!itachi #omega!neji

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wonderfilworld · 3 years

Text

Ardor

Remus Lupin x fem reader

a/n: this is for a request: “Could you do a Remus lupin x reader with a decent age gap with a light, embarrassed daddy or sir kink and thigh riding?” I didn’t really specify a decent age gap or anything, just that Remus is older than you but you’re out of Hogwarts and in The Order together!

word count: 2k

warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut: daddy kink, thigh riding; cursing; kissing. if there’s anything else let me know!

Masterlist To be added to my taglist

You thumbed through the book in your hands, trying to calm your mind as it was late and you needed to get some sleep. The day was a long one; The Order meeting had run into the early morning hours.

The kids had returned to school, and you were missing the constant chatter that went on in Sirius’ home. You were thankful he allowed you to stay with him; especially with everything going on, you didn’t feel like being alone in your tiny apartment, and you know Sirius appreciates the extra company. Remus also stays within these walls - right down the hall, actually - and the thought of the brunette makes you groan as you throw an arm over your eyes.

Remus was just a little bit older than you, but he was so handsome, how could you not be infatuated with him? You saw how he looked at you, how he would eye you almost hungrily some days, and it frustrates you that he’s never acted on it.

You sit up; you’re not falling asleep anytime soon, so you decide to tidy your room a bit to help you tire. Clothes are thrown haphazardly on your desk, so you pick them up one by one and store them in their rightful places.

You hear a soft knock at your door, and you don’t think twice before you quietly call out a come in. You don’t remember that the only articles of clothing you’re wearing are a t-shirt that slides down one shoulder and a pair of panties being covered by the hem of your shirt.

“Hey, I -” Only when you hear Remus’ sentence stop prematurely do you remember your attire. Your eyes widen and your back is to him, and you don’t know if it’s better to be facing him or not.

You make up your mind quickly though, as you turn around, hands still clutching one of your sweaters you were in the middle of putting away.

“R-Remus,” you stutter, eyes still wide as you realize that he hasn’t looked away; hasn’t backed himself out of your room even after taking in your half-naked body.

He seems to snap out of his trance then, shaking his head profusely as he speaks. “Sorry, I just heard you up and wanted to check on you.”

You nod once before speaking, “I’m okay, just not tired.”

He hums, fumbling a book in his large hands, one you’re sure he was in the middle of reading when he heard your footsteps across your room.

He’s still in his day clothes; worn jeans and a button-up shirt that’s rolled up his sleeves. You want to make a move - it’s the perfect time - he’s looking along the expanse of your body and you can feel heat creeping its way up your neck and face. You shift back and forth on your feet as you pick at the sweater in your arms.

Remus must mistake your nervousness for uncomfortableness because he quickly rushes out, “I’m sorry, I’ll just go.”

“No!” You say, and you internally cringe at how desperate you sound. “No, no, it’s fine.”

Remus gives another nod of understanding and says, “You wanna talk?”

You signal your head yes, pulling out your desk chair and indicating for him to sit.

He turns to shut your door, and you try to calm yourself, trying to convey to your body he’s only doing that so your conversation doesn’t wake Sirius. He makes his way to the chair and sits, placing the novel he brought on top of your desk.

Your back is against your desk so you place your hands there and lift your body until you’re perched on the edge, the hem of your shirt riding dangerously high on your thighs. Under normal circumstances, you would be more modest, but right now you couldn’t think straight and with the way Remus is eyeing the newly exposed skin, you can’t be bothered to care.

With newfound confidence, you decide to lean back, placing your hands behind you to prop yourself up. The movement causes the shirt to completely uncover your panties, and you’re thanking past you for wearing decent ones. Your shirt is fairly thin, and you’re acutely aware of your nipples rubbing against the fabric. You know that if Remus were to look he could see them through the cotton, but his eyes are trained on another piece of cotton covering a far more intimate part of you.

You see him gulp, Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes find yours. You keep your face neutral; chest heaving as you look at him.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, and you want to scoff - you know what I’m doing, Remus - is what you want to say, but instead, you paint a look of confusion over your features as you reply.

“What d’you mean?”

He lets out an actual scoff at that, edges of his lips curling into a smirk. “If you want something, just ask.”

You deflate at that, you don’t know exactly what to ask for. Well, you do, but there’s no way you could get your mouth to articulate the words.

Remus’ hand finds your ankle, and his thumb runs along the outside of it as he waits for your answer. His touch makes goosebumps rise along your skin, and if he can make you feel dizzy just by rubbing your ankle, what the hell are you going to do when he gives you what you want?

You move the leg he has a hold of further out as you spread your legs and give him a view of where you really want him to put his hands.

Remus sucks in a breath, your legs are open - for him - and it’s probably one of the prettiest sights he’s ever seen.

“I want this,” is all you say, and it’s quiet after that; you can hear your breaths mingling as Remus decides what to do next.

He contemplates his answer; he’s captivated by you and knows you possess similar feelings towards him, but he’s been hesitant to act on it. He doesn’t want to subject you to his monthly routines, doesn’t want you to feel as though you should be his caretaker. No, you deserve someone your own speed, someone you wouldn’t have to worry about every full moon, someone who can take care of you, not the other way around.

You get tired of waiting for his response, it’s obvious you both want this - he would have left by now if he didn’t. So, you reach down for his hand that still has a firm grasp on your ankle and you bring it up between your legs, placing it directly on your clothed cunt as you lift your hips up into it. The breathtaking friction catches you by surprise, a moan hitching in your throat as your hips thrust against his open palm once more.

Also catching you by surprise is the groan that Remus lets out, the sight of you taking matters into your own hands and using him for your own pleasure makes him hot, makes his mouth water and his pants tighten. He can feel the way your clit pulses against his palm as he presses against it, feels the way the hardened nub drags up his fingers as you buck your hips again.

“Fuck,” he whines - whines - as your hips continue to pull up and down his hand. He doesn’t know what he wants to do first, wants to pull your panties aside and see the slick drip out of your center, wants to lean forward and put his tongue there, tasting you and licking up to suck on your clit because he just knows it would drive you crazy. Your breathy moans are loud in the quiet of the room but he doesn’t care, he wants to hear more of them.

He pulls his hand away, and you mewl at the loss of contact. Remus can see the wet spot on your panties, can feel it on his hand where it soaked through the fabric.

“Come sit,” he says, patting his thighs.

You waste no time hopping off the desk and straddling his thighs. You rest your hands on his shoulders, and his make a home on your hips.

He continues your rutting against him; watches your face as you discover how hard your previous actions made him.

Your eyebrows are furrowed, your mouth ajar as pants leave your lips every time you feel Remus’ cock slide against your cunt. You grind down harder, chasing the feeling that’s building in your core.

You feel one of Remus’ hands slide up your back and onto your neck, and you lunge forward as you feel him push your lips toward his. It’s a messy kiss, not very coordinated at all - it’s hard to focus when he starts to move with you, matching your thrusts eagerly.

Remus rests his forehead against yours as he speaks again. “Can you do somethin’ for me, baby?”

You bob your head before he even finishes the question, of course, you’d do anything for him.

“Can you call me daddy, sweetheart?”

Your hips stutter; it’s not something you ever would have done otherwise, something you’ve never really thought of before, and you whimper as you give a hesitant nod of your head.

Remus senses your hesitation, stops the grinding of your hips as he talks. “Here,” he begins, lifting your hips up and shifting you so that you’re now straddling one of his thighs. “Rub on this,” he tells you, and when he bounces his legs your mouth drops and you gasp loudly as his hard thigh makes contact with your aching clit.

“Think you could cum from this?” His question is a whisper in your ear as you rest your head on his shoulder, hips picking up speed as you ride his thigh.

Your hesitation to obey his request goes out the window - the way the fabric of your panties is catching your clit, his muscular thigh tensing with the exertion of moving your body against him, feels better than anything you could do to yourself.

“Yes, daddy,” you sob. “Feels so good.”

He groans, cock twitching at the name falling from your lips. It sounds so sinful coming from someone as innocent as you, and Remus thinks that he could definitely cum from this.

“Yeah? Doing so good.” He plants a kiss in your hair, you barely feel it, the only sensation you can feel is the drag of your cunt against him. Your hips are moving so fast now, you’re so close and Remus can tell; your moans have grown louder and you’re dragging your cunt against the fabric of his thigh so violently the chair he’s sitting in is starting to rock with your bodies.

“I think I- oh, daddy,” your clit is throbbing, core quivering around nothing as you roll your hips against Remus’ thigh; It’s beginning to feel overwhelming, and your legs are burning with exhaustion. “I can’t,” you sob.

Remus shushes you, plants a firm kiss to your head before his grip on your hips tightens and he pulls and pushes you against him hard and fast, and you cry out again. “Let it go, baby. Cum for daddy.”

And you do, the feeling in your core exploding and washing over you, simulating actual waves that roll from your cunt and travel throughout all your limbs.

“Daddy,” you mewl, body writhing as you ride out your high.

“I know, I know,” Remus coos, one hand moving up to cup the back of your head, the other drawing pretty patterns on your back as you sluggishly continue to drag your hips over his thigh, basking in the remnants of the orgasm that still lingers in your core.

And when your hips stop, he plants kisses along any skin he can find until you lift your head and place your lips on his.

You kiss him deeply, and you both moan at the feeling because something’s changed between the two of you, the atmosphere doesn’t feel the same as before. You almost pull back and ask what happens next, because there is no way the two of you can go back to normal after that.

However, just then, once you’re finally still and your mind isn’t flooded with arousal as it was before, can you feel the hard length of Remus’ cock nudging your thigh.

You lean your head back, still close enough to feel his lips brush against yours, and your hand travels to his cock and squeezes it as you speak.

“Need some help with that?”

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4dtk · 3 years

Text

have this absolute shameless drabble of sugar daddy gojo that i wrote in between requests. my fingers have never typed so fast im sorry this is literally self-indulgent at this point ARJGJFFJ.

disclaimer i honestly can't see anyone calling gojo daddy but just for this fic..... ill allow it..... and also bc sugar daddy gojo is just always residing in my mind. did you see how he transferred 10 mil to mei mei!!!!! i will never shut the fuck up about that scene. pls spoil me <3

warnings: praise, public sex, sugar daddy/sugar baby relations, breeding kink, pet names

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI

sugar daddy!gojo pushes you up against the window of the store, visible for everyone to see you getting fucked senseless. in the gucci store four floors up, it could work both ways. fortunate to be so high up, although people would be getting a treat if they happened to look up.

“you know what you’re doing, baby?” he grunts, hips rocking into your soaked pussy as the staff outside try to ignore the lewd noises coming from behind the curtains.

it was supposed to be a simple trip: get a dress for gojo’s event in a few weeks and get out. with a tight arm wrapped around his, you followed him around like a starstruck puppy, the edges of your lips curled up knowing he’d treat you a million times over if you just asked for it.

gojo wasn’t any different, either. sure, he’s had sugar babies in the past, but not quite like you who’s so easy to please and spoil, knowing you could never say no even if your life depended on it. with your desperate listing for the requirement of monetary assistance, gojo couldn’t resist taking up the offer.

he just hadn’t expected you to be so… pliant. you had taken it like a good little bitch, too, moaning out for everyone to hear because you liked it like that.

“you’re taking my cock so well, princess,” gojo muttered out, lips nibbling on your ear as he continued to pound you. his grin that you feel against your skin plagues your mind, wanting nothing more than to see how he enjoys ruining you.

the catchy, upbeat pop song playing above you seemed to provide some rhythm, the sultry lyrics fuelling you further.

"so needy that i had to buy out the whole store for an hour, huh?" the male slows his pace, delivering deep thrusts into your cunt with the precision of an expert.

all you can reply are in little pants, sentences incoherent from how deep his cock is in you.

"i don't even think an hour is enough to satisfy my pretty little girl, isn't that right?" gojo picks up the speed again, and you're brought back to the many times he's fucked over his counter, washing machine. to the times where he's eaten you out on his office table and in his sheets of his king-sized.

and now, you've got another memory locked away for nights full of loneliness and soaked underwear when gojo's just too busy for you.

a tongue to your nipples and a hand to your clit makes you choke out a moan, writhing against the glass just to feel more of gojo, more of his cock and more of his lips on your neck.

you're struggling to keep yourself up, finding the right time in between muffled moans and whimpers to ask for one more wish.

"daddy... p-please, i wanna see your-"

"what, baby? repeat it for me." goddamn, the man had no problem articulating his words, how much had he fucked you already?

clearly not enough if you're still able to speak.

"w-wanna see your face when you fuck me deep, daddy!"

your wish is taken away when you're already creaming all over gojo as your hot breath creates fog on the glass in a silent scream.

"aw, you're cumming so hard baby~ you didn't even get to see me yet," he coos, enjoying the gush of your juices that coat his dick and your thighs. everything feels sticky and dirty, but you don't hesitate to beg for one more fuck with your eyes.

gojo catches your drift immediately, hips twitching from the idea of pumping you full of his cum. after all, he hasn't come yet.

he grunts at the time with a quick glance to the clock above your head. without wasting any more time, he flips you over, the restraint to cum slowly reaching its limit with your lolling tongue and fucked-out face.

the male doesn't bother to hide the deep groan that rips from his throat when he drags his dick along your folds, strings of both your juices stretching out in a way that hypnotises gojo.

"n-need your cock, daddy! please!" you whine, grinding your hips against the tip to make sure gojo knows of your desperation. that he's the only one to fuck you so good that no one else can satisfy you.

he smiles knowingly before he sinks into you.

gojo knows that he's the only one that can make you feel this way as he picks up the tempo, hitting spots in you that you didn't know was physically possible.

gojo knows that he's the only one you call daddy shamelessly as he writes off his card to help you in your student debts and the sparkly dress you've been eyeing.

he could throw you away the second you're done with university, the second the media's off his ass about his love life but, the sweet, sweet moans spilling from your lips pull him back in every single time, eager to hear it for as long as your bank's empty and his is piled up with money.

"more! satoru, more, fuuuck..." you groan, shying away from the striking blues of his eyes the more he drinks in your current state.

he's barely holding on, not even minding the first name you called him. the short skirt he'd given you flipped up makes him go crazy, your panties moved to the side to receive the dressing room quickie you always wanted.

"you're so de..eep daddy! i need all your c-cum please...!" it's a mix between a whimper and a whine.

"yeah? 'course i am, baby. your pussy is sucking me in all the w-way," gojo's hips stutters at how you squirm in his tight grasp, locking eyes with him as yours fill with want. your pussy is throbbing, stretched out so much that you don't register the thumb playing with your clit.

"s' too much...! s' too much, d-daddy!"

"you're a good girl, aren't you?" the way you nod is pathetic, eyebrows knitted from being stuffed so full.

"pretty little thing- fuuck..." gojo's losing control himself, the way his balls slaps against your cunt resonates around the small space and nothing feels better than being inches deep in you.

you're a babbling mess by then, unable to even scream out as you cream his cock. with head thrown back, you're left frozen for a second as the orgasm washes over you and a violent shudders goes through your thighs.

"daddy has so much, s-shit- cum for you, doll," it isn't long before the other comes undone, a groan escaping his lips before he shoots his load deep into you.

your pussy is stained white from all the cum he's giving you, gasping from how much gojo is leaking into you.

"thank y-you, satoru..." you trembling has affected your voice, too, burying your head into gojo's neck while your body shivers from sensitivity.

"take all of it, baby," gojo whispers, the hand near your middle moves instantly to finger his cum back into you, fixing back your underwear over your pussy.

a cheeky giggle leaves your mouth as you untangle yourself from the embrace, welcoming a kiss from the man as he slowly begins to clean up himself.

"have you chosen a dress yet, sir?"

gojo's smile is mischievous, not missing the way your face flushes at having to face the embarrassed staff outside.

"we'll take everything, thanks," his eyes never leave you as he helps you off the changing room chair, tugging your body flush to his before leaving you with one more hungry kiss.

"you did so well for daddy, doll. i may just have to treat you tonight since you have a day off university tomorrow..."

even if it wasn't in the contract, gojo loved to spoil you, admiring your mettle when it comes to material items. although...

"you know what i mean," it's enchanting, the way his voice travels like silk, "i'll call in sick for work tomorrow, yeah?"

your mind goes to mush at what tonight might entail, losing all train of coherence when his hushed whisper of my baby's so cute reaches your ear.

in a second you're out of there, hand twined with his while you remain giddy with the thought of getting used by gojo until you reach your limit.

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