#more art hopefully coming your way as well as fics
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CAN YOU PLS WRITE SOME REYNA SMUT 🥲🥲🥲
✮ ┆HELP MY HEAD CLEAR. zyanya ‘reyna’ mondragón
no plot, just smut.
CONTENT WARNING. 18+ only, minors dni. NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; female-bodied reader, scissoring, kissing, praising, mommy kink, top! reyna, pet names, dub-con elements, | ~0.9k words
A/N. i found this scrapped reyna fic on my hard drive finally, hopefully, you like it anon despite it being rather short, and thank you for reading everyone !!!
to say that reyna was tense lately was an understatement and you were more than glad that the rest of the agents thought when she finally calmed down it was thanks to the countless training bots beheaded. you were more than proud of how well you could assist your girlfriend to cool her head, but you were nowhere proud enough to brag about how you really did it. even that was a lie because in her least angelic moments, reyna was still very pervasive, and with the slightest effort she could charm you into her room to have a good time.
there was no time for you to register anything happening after the sliding door closed, reyna’s hands all over your body, stripping you of your clothes before forcing you under her on the bed. “my precious baby, won’t you help mami, hm?” she coos as she straddles you, her hand catching one of yours that was trying to cover up your bare body, placing them on the buckle of her pants while her free hand was groping your chest, digging her nails into the soft mound of your breast.
your body was sprawled across the bed like a work of art, your tits bouncing softly as reyna rolled her hips against yours. light gasps came from your lips as your clit met hers, grinding against one another slowly. zyanya’s mouth waters at the sight of you under her and her animalistic fantasies of absolutely devouring you right there and then were never harder to maintain than now.
“feels good baby, yeah? helping mami out,” she asks, reaching a hand down to caress your face. it was hot, almost fooling her that you were riding a high fever and your cheeks were red like the blood that flows through your body, your skin burning where she touched you. you nodded furiously, the blush darkening and spreading down your neck as she pressed herself down on top of you, taking control of the position, her arms bracketing your head and holding it down so you couldn’t move away.
you bit your lower lip to suppress a moan which did not please the woman above you at all. reyna would hate to admit otherwise, tell you out loud how much she is enjoying herself in this position and the delicious stimulation on her clit. she didn’t think this kind of position could be as satisfying as any of her toys or your tongue and she is already planning the next time the two of you will do this.
“f-faster…” you mumble, your thighs trembling already. your heart was racing and you swore it would jump out of your chest any second with the way she moved her hips against yours.
“you are so good mi corazón, such a pretty messy pussy you have for mami,” she exclaims with a high-pitched moan following her statement. she pulls your thigh closer to her and quickens her pace as more praises fall from her mouth.
your eyes close as you soak up her words, whimpering softly after each and every adoring word that spilled from her mouth. your body trembles and your walls clench around nothing but air as your high nears and you find it embarrassing. she mewls all about how she’s gonna devour you after this, how she is gonna eat you up and make sure you get what’s coming to you.
“m’cumming- cumming!” you squeak, your thighs trying to close as your hips spasm against hers. all your shame quickly dissolves, your mind only able to concentrate on the spine-arching pleasure your body is being wrecked by. you saw stars, shining brightly and bliding you as your orgasm ate you whole.
“cum for me- cum with me cariño.” reyna gave you a few rushed nods, not being able to form any more words as she too was nearing the edge. she can feel the small, unfortunate space between the two of you get even more slippery than before, the wet sounds of your pussy lips getting louder.
just as you were coming, your pupils were blown like you were high on drugs, and your brain was gushing out of your ears. zyanya followed you soon, her head falling forward and one of her hands slipping between the two of you. the pressure in her stomach was unbearable and the release her fingers provided was heavenly.
the sound of her moans was music to your ear and if you weren’t so dizzy because of your lingering orgasm. it felt so damn good to be fucked like this, to know that you are making her feel good and she's letting all that steam off that's building up inside of her.
reyna wasn't shy about showing off, kissing, and biting your shoulder and collarbone- touching these marks. it stung, how her fingers ran along and pushed on her purple marks, but the way that touch made her feel, the warm feeling, and how it made your body shiver all made her delightful, strengthening her ownership over you.
zyanya was breathing heavily, her hair tousled. her entire body was sweaty and flushed and she looked absolutely gorgeous. she pulled back slowly, her breathing labored and her eyes remained closed for a couple of seconds before falling over, taking you in her weak arms, pulling your naked bodies close to one another.
#📗 — written by moss !#valorant x reader#valorant x reader smut#valorant x female reader#reyna x reader#reyna x reader smut#valorant reyna x reader#reyna x female reader#reyna x you#valorant reyna x reader smut#valorant smut
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Kinda chilly today...
#durarara#izaya orihara#monospies#hi again#more art hopefully coming your way as well as fics#drrr!!#drrr#drrrx2#orihara izaya
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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.
For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!
With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)
The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.
Mutual Pining
Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.
2. Alternate Meetings
There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?
3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink
This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!
4. Canon Fix-It
All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.
5. Hurt/Comfort
Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️🩹
6. Canon Compliant
Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!
7. Beach Divorce
Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!
8. Domestics
Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.
9. Found Family
The real heart of x-men!
10. Time Travel
There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.
11. AU
Love a good AU!
12. There Is Only One Bed
Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?
13. Genosha
By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.
14. Declaration(s) of Love
Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?
15. Jealousy
Need I say more.
16. Reunion
These two have absolutely no chill.
17. Soulmates
Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.
18. The DOFP Aircraft
The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?
19. Gay Mutant Road Trip
You already know.
20. Body Swap
SO fun when people have superpowers.
21. First Kiss
When? How? Who initiated it?
22. The Mansion
Mansion!content is a genre of its own.
23. Conflicting Ideology
Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.
24. Sebastian Shaw
A trope unto himself.
25. Team As Matchmaker
They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?
26. Cooking
Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…
27. Hurt No Comfort
Plenty of scope with these two 🥲
28. Growing Old Together
Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!
29. Making Up
*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe
30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know
Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.
I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁
*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)
If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.
Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!
#revivecherik#cherik#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#xmfc#james mcavoy#michael fassbender#x men days of future past#x men#charles x erik#magneto#professor x
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Pinch Me
After your first date with a familiar face from home, waking up next to Steve feels like something out of a dream.
or
This is a follow on from Clean Slate but can be read as standalone fic.
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties and were in school together; you met again on a blind date almost ten years later. This is an 18+ fic; oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex. Spoiler but use of ‘good girl’ in a sexy content. Steve Harrington being a smooth mf comes with it's own warning.
I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible! Some mentions of anxiety and insecurity. Plenty of kissing to make up for that!
Author’s Note: Clean Slate was intended to be a one off fic but here we are! This is my first attempt at smut in a fic, so hopefully it’s not horrendous! Thank you for reading, enjoy!
Thank you to my lovely @specialagentmonkey for beta reading for me💖
Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.
(divider by me)
Ever since you were little, your bed had been one of your favourite places. Soft sheets, books on the bedside table and a perfectly curated stack of pillows all topped off with the quilt you had made with your grandma before her arthritis got too bad.
In your mom’s photo albums there was more than one snapshot of you as a sleepy toddler with a wild bed head peeking up from your pillow on Christmas morning. Another few of you reading Nancy Drew in a pillow nest with a gap toothed smile.
By now, you had made your own little nest out in the big bad world now; a surprisingly roomy studio with big windows and noisy neighbours on one side. You had bought new sheets and a duvet printed with dusty pink roses on porcelain white cotton, curated a new stack of pillows and added too many decorative cushions on top of the same quilt that had made the move with you to Indianapolis and on to Chicago. There were still books on your bedside, a little dish for your jewellery to sit in while you slept, and an accumulation of lip balms, pillow mist and a candle or two to set the mood.
After long shifts and bad dates, your bed was still your haven. When you were particularly anxious, you could still hear the shrill of your old alarm blaring in your ears; the sound of that clock that had dragged you from sweet dreams in your beloved bed on chilly winter mornings. Some mornings, as you rode the subway to work, you swore you could hear your bed’s own siren song calling you to get off at the next stop, come home to read and nap the day away.
The sanctuary was for you alone, save for an occasional sleepover with your best friend Annie. Your dates were never invited to stay and make themselves comfortable. But this morning, waking up with Steve Harrington in your bed? That was new.
It was safe to say that your blind date went well. Really well.
You had resolutely avoided talking about school, only mentioning people each other might have remembered in the context of a story about your lives outside Hawkins. Steve was still in touch with a lot of people from home. You recognised some of their names; Robin who grew up a street away from you, Eddie Munson who you knew from art class and the occasional house party in your youth, even Nancy Wheeler. The way he lit up with so much fondness for ‘his kids’ who weren’t kids anymore made your face ache from smiling.
And Steve had listened, wanted to hear how you had liked Indianapolis for college (he had spent some time there too before making the move to Chicago with Robin after Eddie had sussed the place out and found an apartment near his own for them that they still shared). He had asked about your job, your life in the city, and took a real interest in you.
His attention had stayed on you, never straying to see who else was around or looking for an escape route. His honeyed gaze had stayed focused, watching how you used your hands when you spoke and dipped occasionally to look at your lips. Steve’s hand had stayed close by when his fingers weren’t outright intertwined with yours. He did this thing with his thumb, stroking it across the bone of your wrist, and a few times he had squeezed your hand while you spoke as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening’ - it was so centering for your often anxious mind.
You had a few more drinks, picked a few songs on the jukebox, kept talking and talking until you were sitting close enough to hear Steve’s stomach growl, making his cheeks flush pink.
“I know a pizza spot close by if you’re hungry?” you suggested.
“DiFontaines?” Steve smiled a little, nodding at your suggestion. “Yeah I love it. Let’s go.”
Neither of you wanted to end the night yet, say goodbye. So you didn’t. Instead you headed hand in hand into the warm night air, nicely buzzed and in search of hot pizza and crispy cold sodas.
The sun had dipped in the sky, taking the worst of the heat with it, but the night stayed humid and sticky. Despite the warmth, Steve held your hand and between stories, as you walked down the next block, he lifted his arm to twirl you when you passed a bar blaring Achy Breaky Heart onto the street; Billy Ray’s crooning was eclipsed by your laughter.
“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, pushing him gently before Steve quickly hugged you against his side again. Never had you felt so comfortable on a first date - but this wasn’t just any blind first date.
“Dork?! You been talkin’ to Robin?” Steve smiled down at you, sparking heat in your belly.
“Guess your reputation precedes you, Harrington.” With a burst of bravery, owing it to your younger self, you bounced up on your toes to peck his cheek before taking off a few steps ahead, turning to grin back at him as he jogged to catch up before you swerved into the pizza place.
You joined the line of late night pizza lovers and Steve had slipped an arm around you, leaned his chin on your head as your heart pounded hard. “So, what’re we getting?” he asked.
The familiarity of it all made you feel fuzzy around the edges, his thumb stroking your shoulder, the heat of him pressed against your side.
“It’s probably sacrilegious but the New York style slice, veggie or… artichoke.” Feeling brave again you cover his hand with yours and squeezed. “You?”
“Okay so we’re both sinners then.” He hummed, considering his options. “You’re vegetarian right?”
“Yeah, I try to be.” You liked how he had remembered a tiny detail from a story told hours ago.
“Okay. Four cheese then.”
“You sure?” Your interest piqued.
“Yeah, ‘course. You might not want a goodnight kiss if I have pepperoni breath.”
You swear your jaw dropped as Steve schooled his smile, watching the group of tipsy tourists ahead of you order their slices before his eyes darted back to you.
Steve was more timid, his voice quieter as he filled the silence between you when you had been too stunned to answer. “It’s also totally fine if you don’t want to kiss me, sweetheart. I know I can lay it on ki-“
Instead you rocked up to close the gap between you, ignoring the pinch of your sandals to lay a kiss onto his lips. Steve was quick to cup your cheek, keeping you there to kiss you back just as sweetly.
His nose has nudged against yours before he let you go, gazing into each other’s eyes until your attention was pulled to ‘order or get out’. His arm had stayed around you as you placed your orders, splitting a third classic deep dish slice between you so you wouldn't be run out of town with torches and pitchforks.
Full of pizza and soda and bravery, you had taken Steve’s hand again and strolled through the sticky Chicago night, steering him toward your apartment with the guise of proving that the same pink scrunchie you wore in high school was in fact on your bedside table. You both knew what you were really suggesting.
Part of you niggled away, expecting him to make a polite excuse to head home instead. But Steve only had eyes for you and sealed the deal with another kiss. You lost yourselves in each other, feeling younger together, and made out with Steve’s back against the shutters of somewhere long closed for the night as he squeezed your hips and you toyed with the ends of his hair. It was with regret that he had to tear himself away from your lips to hail a cab for you both, where you did your best to behave on the way to your apartment.
As you lay in bed that next morning, watching how Steve’s chest rose and fell with breath, how soft he looked in sleep, you felt warm and happy. His golden glow was just as dazzling in the morning light.
Your night together had been unrushed. Steve hadn’t just hit it and quit it with you. No, instead you had kissed and kissed, making out and letting your hands roam like two teenagers except there was no hurry; no seven minute deadline or someone pounding on a guest room door to see if it was occupied. The rumours in school had been true; Steve Harrington was an amazing kisser. You had listened to a friend of a friend rave about his soft lips after a lucky spin the bottle in junior year; now you had tasted him for yourself, you understood why she had brought it up so much. But Steve was in your bed now, not hers, you thought smugly.
On the way from the couch to your bed, he had unzipped your dress and you made sure his powdery blue shirt wouldn’t be too creased in the morning, draping it over the back of a chair instead of leaving it balled up on the ground.
Steve had made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were, kissed you everywhere before taking his time with you and spent an age between your legs as he worked you open for him. Lying there the next morning, you could feel your face heat up when you remembered how his touch set you on fire. The pleasant all over ache weighed you down into your mattress.
With a messy bed-head, Steve woke a little after you and saw you smiling dreamily to yourself. He reached out to pull you closer, tucking his face into your neck.
“Mornin’.” His voice was gravelly and deep.
“Morning.” You brush his hair back gently and dot a kiss to his forehead before stroking your fingers over his shoulders soothingly, dragging them down his arm.
“S’nice,” he said, lips moving against your neck before he pressed a few kisses there.
Lying face to face on your pillow, your fingers played with the fine gold chain that settled around his throat, dipping lower into the thick hair on his chest.
“I had a really good time last night.” Steve’s fingers walk up your arm, before twirling your hair around one carefully.
When you look up at him, he’s got this little smile on his face. He inches closer, letting his gaze drop to your own smiling mouth before you share a slow morning kiss.
“Me too,” you whisper, settling your hand on the side of his neck before returning his kiss again. Your fingers skate across and behind the lobe of his ear, the underside of his jaw and the shade of stubble there.
With his large soft hands, he drags you closer still, pressing you right up against him. The t-shirt you had pulled on after the sweat on your body had started to cool last night was rucked up over your hip as Steve’s thumb strokes the dip there.
You sigh into his mouth, feeling warm all over despite the chill of your box fan to cool the room down. This morning you're warmed by the heat and glow that radiates from Steve Harrington, hotter than the sun itself.
“You’re really beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, shifting his weight so you’re on your back again with one of his thighs slotted between yours. Steve brushes your hair back, fanning it out over the pillow before dipping down to kiss you again. He leaves you breathless before his lips trail lower to your jaw and neck.
It’s an intimacy you hadn’t had with anyone in a long time, feeling safe enough with Steve to let yourself be loved on like this. You will yourself to be present with him, bask in his glow as it warms you, but barbs of anxiety have crept in to distract you.
Last night was amazing, slow and syrupy and tender. If that had been the last time you ever saw Steve Harrington you could have probably died happy - happier than before anyway. But instead he stayed, and as he kisses you again (morning breath ignored and forgotten). Steve didn’t care that you had faded into the background of your shared high school halls, he had loved how you had the bravery to break out of Hawkins and be you now.
Steve notices you tensing up and peels himself back, thumbing your cheek again as he says your name. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, concern in his eyes. It makes your heart ache.
You shake your head and cover the hand on your cheek. “No. Never.” You pull him to you again and relish the weight of him on top, your hands over his shoulders. “I’m getting in my head. You’re straight out of a dream, Steve. I feel like asking you to pinch me.”
You feel a little embarrassed about being quite so honest with him like this, but he oozes a magnetism and calmness that makes you want to tell him everything. But you don’t want to scare him away, be left waiting for another call that’s not coming, or hear him say ‘that was fun but I’m not looking for anything serious right now’.
He smiles and leans his weight on one strong arm so he’s not totally crushing you. “I can, if you want. But I promise I’m real. And I’m just some guy.”
You laugh. “Some guy? Nah Steve, I think you might be some sort of apparition. Or like, a Greek god.” You squeeze his bicep for emphasis. “Definitely dreaming.”
Steve rolls his eyes, playful, and pinches your cheek lightly. “See? Silly.” He presses a kiss to where he pinched before going in for another on your smiling mouth. Steve was not shy or stingy with his kisses, you had learned. You liked that a lot.
“I think you’re pretty amazing, y’know. If you’re not sick of me yet, would you wanna go for breakfast with me?” Steve kneels up between your thighs, the sheets pooling around his hips. Your eyes go right to the white Calvin’s pulled tight over the thickness of him. Your eyes rake up over his body until you’re caught staring, ogling, and Steve smiles when you pull a pillow over your face. You certainly hadn’t been so shy last night; he laughs and lifts it away to gaze down at you, hoping you will say yes.
“C’mere. Then you can take me for breakfast.” You coax him back down, hooking one leg over his hip. “Prove to me again that you’re not just in my imagination?”
Steve grins and rolls himself down over you. “You been imagining me like this? Scandalous,” he teases before resuming his kisses from earlier, which you are eager to return. Your bodies move together, hips tilting toward each other seeking out that pressure that makes your tummy sizzle. As Steve’s hands slip under your sized-up sleep shirt again, your own dips down to cup him through his underwear. His breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut.
“Baby…”
Baby.
You smile and repeat the movement firmer this time before beginning to coax him to hardness, breaking your hold on him only to help him remove your tshirt. It’s lost to the floor along with Steve’s briefs. His breath is hot against your mouth as your bodies press together. The feeling of Steve’s hands on your breasts draws out a whine that’s swallowed by another kiss; his hands are so big and they feel like they are everywhere, like Steve is everywhere. His mouth and hands trail lower, spreading you out for him on your dusty rose bedsheets. He cups you there, thumb swiping in a delicious rhythm that has you gasping against his shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing the tops of your breasts. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, baby. Please?”
You whimper as his fingers ease you open, so gentle like the polite ‘please’. Steve had proven he was a talker already last night, his words making you feel hot all over as he had pushed so carefully inside, turning tipsy giggles into needy gasps. You felt the same heat engulf you now as he lay wet kisses to your tummy, your hips, pausing only so that he could lie comfortably between your thighs after shouldering his way between them.
He’s looking up at you, his cheek against the meat of your thigh. Lips curve into a smile when you meet his gaze, and he closes his eyes when you stroke his hair back. One of his hands takes yours and rests together on your belly as he dips to kiss you where you need him, humming against you when you gasp his name.
Your eyes drop closed, fireworks bursting behind them as he makes you feel so good. The once or twice any other man had done this was lacklustre in skill and enthusiasm, which Steve possessed in every cell of his being. When you chance looking at him you spot his hips shifting against the mattress, chasing relief for his own ache which makes you moan louder. His whispered “good girl” sends your eyes rolling back into your skull.
Steve brings you to your peak quicker than anyone ever had before. Mindful that you might be a little tender from the night before as he presses one long and thick finger inside before a second joins it a few moments later, gentle but with a purpose of making you forget your own name. His shoulder presses firm against your thigh, spreading you wider as his fingers pump steadily, keeping the pace and press against the spot inside you that makes you feel fit to explode.
You squeeze his arm while your capacity for coherent speech vanishes, focusing only on the swirl and suck of his mouth and the crook and curl of his fingers. It’s so sudden, and you swear you’ve never made a noise so loud as you moan for him, trembling all over. He whispers his praise against your thigh before bringing his mouth back to where you’re weeping for him and doesn’t stop until your thighs are crushing his ears, muffling your voice.
Chest heaving, you feel him move up to check on you. He brings you close, holding you as you glow with him and presses feathery kisses to your hairline. “You still with me? Not still dreaming about me?”
“Mm, think I died,” you manage, peeking up at him with teary eyes. Another tender kiss to the dopey smile on your lips. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, sweetheart.”
His grin is deservedly cocky, earning himself the warm grasp of your hand around his length. The prettiest frown graces his face as you squeeze and slowly pump your hand, your lips moving to his neck.
Steve’s gaze moves from your face, dragging down your body to where your hand holds him. His size makes your hand look small and you feel the kick of his arousal on your palm. You manage to swing one wobbly leg over him, sitting on the breadth of his thighs with new confidence as he holds you steady.
You lean across him, earning kisses to your chest as you fish for a condom to rip open and roll on to him before lowering yourself down into his lap.
Sinking your teeth into the fat of your lower lip at the stretch of him, Steve huffs out a breathy swear against your chest. His hands settle on your hip and thigh, grounding and never rushing as you breathe into the feeling of him inside you before beginning to move.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching you in awe. “So pretty f’me.”
That spurs you on, chasing the tingle deep in your abdomen. Your fingers lace with Steve’s on your thigh, the other hand braced against the wall behind his shoulder.
His head leans back by your hand, turning to kiss your wrist as you move in his lap. You curl your arm around him, bringing each other close as his hips hitch up to meet you.
“So good, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you again as his breath comes quicker now. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”
Gasping his name, you hold him tight to you as you move together. He can’t take his eyes off of you, “Good girl, so gorgeous.”
Messy kisses broken by gasps and Steve’s praise are traded back and forth. His hands feel huge where they hold you at your waist.
The cord of pleasure deep in your pelvis winds tighter. Steve’s jaw twitches as he holds on to you, and you kiss the tense muscle before whispering, “You make me feel so good.” The sound he makes is almost a whimper and he squeezes the meat of your ass. Your hips continue their rise and roll, you feel like every cell of your body is aflame.
Steve watches you, praising words fanning the fire low in your belly. The burn in your thighs makes you pause and he takes the chance to kiss you stupid again.
“Feel good? Yeah?” When you nod, feeling spaced out, he pecks your swollen lips and whispers, “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” You wonder if he lets anyone take care of him, return his generosity and affections.
He is so gentle as he holds you to his chest and slouches lower on the bed. You close your eyes at the feeling of being held like this, cheek to his broad shoulder. His feet are flat and firm on the bed and the experimental thrust up into you makes you sigh his name. Steve sweeps your hair to one side so that he can kiss your neck again, checking in with you before continuing.
His name echoes on your bedroom walls as he grazes the elusive spot inside of you; the way you press right against his pelvis gives a rub of friction that makes lightning zing through your limbs. “That’s it. Huh? Right there?” His voice is tight as he drives up into you again, faster now with the new angle.
You can hardly summon the sense to make a sentence, babbling now with how good he’s making you feel, the occasional broken curse or plea. After last night and this morning, the neighbours won’t be happy or forget Steve’s name anytime soon - not that you give a fuck.
You kiss him again, though now you’re both so far gone it’s messy and needy, hot breaths against each other’s cheeks. The lick of his tongue against yours makes you shiver. You feel ready to burst, pleasure building as his hips drive up hard into you
With the feeling of him so deep inside of you, you fall over the edge again. The feeling of your orgasm, clenching and fluttering and soaking, drags him with you, groaning against your neck when his hips slam and stutter still. His arms are tight around you, both heaving deep breaths together.
Steve eases you both down onto your sides, tangled together. You feel dazed and heavy but the stroke of Steve’s fingers on your hip, his hot breath on your collarbone grounds you until the sounds of Chicago on a Saturday morning remind you that this wasn’t a dream.
“You okay? That.. Jesus…” Steve’s voice is breathy, but you hear his smile.
“Yeah. I’m…amazing.”
“Yeah, you are.”
There’s comfortable silence as you both come back to earth.
After a few moments Steve dots kisses to your cheeks, forehead and nose before he eases out of you to bin the full condom. Soon you’re back in bed with him, held safe in his arms. His cheeks are pink and you want to squeeze them.
“You’re so gorgeous, Steve.” Your fingers brush over the moles dotted along his cheekbone, and he catches your hand to kiss your fingers sweetly in distraction. “Hey. Look at me, Harrington.”
“Back to Harrington?” he teases, looking into your eyes with faux intensity to make you giggle. “M’lookin’.”
“Steve. Steven.” You match his teasing with pretend-seriousness.
“Not Steven. Please, baby.” His mouth turns down, exaggerating his unhappiness with you, but the stroke of his fingers on your hip say otherwise.
“Ms O’Donnell called you Steven.”
“Please don’t bring O’Donnell up while my dick is still out.”
You both dissolve into giggles, pressing your face against the chain on his chest. “Shut up, she had that much of an effect on you?! Calling you Steven gets you all worked up? Okay perv, good to know.”
“You’re sick in the head.” His voice is shaky with laughter against your hair. “S’a good thing you’re cute.”
“Mhm. Definitely a sicko. Two cute sickos.” You take his face in your hands again. “You’re a great date Steve Harrington.”
He smiles, but it falls a little - you just about catch it. It makes your heart hurt. Your inability to just say that you don’t want this to be a one time thing makes you want to pull your own hair out.
“I do my best. I had so much fun with you. I’m just kinda… sick of first dates though. Yknow?”
“I do know. But that’s not how last night felt.”
There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes as he nods.
“Definitely helped that we had a bit of a head start on the ‘where are you from?’ shit..” There’s a twinkle of playfulness in his heart wrenching sincerity.
“I hate that part.” You look into his eyes. It makes your chest flutter, how he looks at you.
“I know we didn’t know each other all that well in school..”
“Since kindergarten.” Your shrug is tiny, you smile playfully as he groans.
“Since kindergarten. Shit. What’ve I been doing all this time…” he asks the ceiling.
“Same as me. Getting out of Hawkins. Going on crappy dates...”
“Mm, true. Growing up, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Last night wasn’t crappy. Best date I’ve been on in a long long time.”
“Me too. I think I’ll let you take me out again, if you want to…” you say, whispering bravely as you act all playful despite your hammering heart.
The smile on Steve’s face makes the butterflies in your stomach swoop again. You weren’t the only one who felt so dimmed by dating around, having your heart broken. There’s a beat of silence, charged electric as Steve looks at your lips and you touch his chain again.
“You like pancakes, or waffles?” Steve’s eyes twinkle.
You squeeze the bulk of his bicep. “French toast.”
His head tips back in laugh, showing off his delicious throat. “Oh she’s fancy?”
“She is.”
He leans in to kiss you in more time. “I can do fancy, baby.”
“You’ve done fancy twice. Fancy is hungry, Steve.”
Your laughter echoes in the golden morning light that fills your room as his fingers skate over your ribs, finding the ticklish spots before he hauls you as close as possible again.
Steve’s nose presses against your cheek, smooching one more kiss there before sitting up to find his pants. As you stargaze at the constellation on his broad back, you think this might just be the start of something really amazing.
comments, reblogs and likes are not simply appreciated - they are cherished
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Pinwheels.
SFW Valeria Garza HCs
PAIRING: Valeria Garza x Fem-Preschool-teacher! Reader.
CWS: None. <3
—
“Amor..”
“...Yes?”
“Por qué mierdas is there a giant pile of paper scraps and glitter on our bed?!”
—
This woman would definitely fund the school you work at.
She wouldn’t tell you it was her, but she’d relish in the way you smiled as you told her about the anonymous tips.
Need more construction paper and art supplies?
You got it.
Kids need more toys?
There were definitely better uses of her money, but you best believe the school will have some sent anonymously.
One thing Valeria admired the most about you was the sheer amount of love and patience you had for the kids you taught.
Whether it be the way you hugged them and treated them with such tenderness and love, or the way you carefully created each activity for the following day
She admired it all.
Sure, she absolutely despised the Idea of being surrounded by (literal demons) kids all day, but you just made it look so easy.
On late nights when she’d be getting back from whatever meeting or transgression she had to oversee that day and saw you hard at work, safety scissors in one hand and construction paper in the other, she’d let out a small sigh before walking behind you and resting herself against your hunched back
“You should be in bed, Mi Vida. Wouldn't want to have those pretty fingers of yours cut off on accident, right?”
“But I’m almost finished, Vale!” You’d whine, a tired pout on your lips as you turn to face your wife.
And thats how despite she herslf being tired, she’d find herself taking the scissors away from your hands and taking a seat beside you, finishing cutting whatever stencil you were cutting this time.
Another thing she’d enjoy is you talking about your day.
She liked listening to you talk as she did her paper work. Sure, it distracted her but she wouldn’t say that outloud.
Though usually indifferent and just humming to let you know she was listening, she’d occasionally respond back
“Can you believe that he kicked poor Jose just for trying to take one of the blocks from his tower during clean up!?”
“Well, he did have it coming-“
“Valeria, no-!”
It may not be Valeria’s profession of choice, but it’s yours and she’ll do everything in her power to support you and make sure you’re happy and come back home with that same charming smile.
—
🎀 first Tumblr post / COD fic, hopefully you enjoy this and find the premise interesting enough. <3
🎀 requests for this au idea, or in general, and constructive criticism are welcome !
#valeria garza x reader#valeria cod#valeria garza#mw2 x reader#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#i love women#cod x reader#call of duty#cod one shot#oneshot#headcanon#wlw#sfw headcanons#cod valeria#valeria x reader#valeria x you#el sin nombre#─ nananari writes ‧₊˚
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indefinitely ours.
(teacher!reader x teacher!Ellie x Abby)
summary : You're not willing to date nor looking for anyone, but Ellie Williams, the art teacher working in the school that hired you a year ago, is making you seriously doubt that decision. With her flirting, praises and constant touches, you're all but ready to give up and ask her out. That is, until you meet her girlfriend, Abby, who to your greatest shock seems very… curious about you.
word count : 7.2k (sorry)
note : this is my first fic in the tlou fandom ever, so it'll hopefully be good and i hope the characterization is okay! i wrote this to practice writing shorter fics and failed.... it probably won't get a part 2 but who knows!
warnings : smut with a bit of plot, female anatomy reader, occasionally mean!ellie and mean!abby but they love you<3, light objectification, degradation and exhibitionism, mention of anal, alcohol use and light intoxication, sub!reader, consent is respected but there’s a few bold moments, bit of a housewife kink, crying from overstimulation, threesome.
●○●○●○●○●○●
An ordinary life is not what most aim for, but you have to be honest in that regard: there’s nothing you’ve craved to achieve more than the simple peace of life, a peace often found in modesty yet sought in extravagance.
The primary school you joined last year has fulfilled that goal in more ways than one, allowing you the safety of a job you spent years dreaming of, a kind group of colleagues that have befriended you ever since you first arrived, and a class made up of the most adorable group of pupils, all eager to learn and earn the good graces of their favorite teacher judging by how the blue of your classroom’s walls are now entirely hidden by drawings. It’s on the outskirts of the city, in a cute area where prices had not soared just yet when you first bought a house, and the neighborhood couldn’t be more welcoming.
Your time is well-spent: between preparing lessons, finding original ideas to keep a hyperactive group of six years old entertained, taking care of the renovations your new house still requires, and caring for a vegetable garden you did not expect to grow so well, it’s safe to say that you don’t have much time left for anything else, and that includes a relationship. You haven’t been looking, really, happy to settle down on your own until life picks up a slower rhythm and to make friends rather than losing yourself in back and forths. Your previous relationships were never particularly fulfilling and often ended up being on and off until you got tired of the uncertainty. You’re done with all of that.
The only person that could make you doubt the choice of celibacy, however, currently has her back turned to you, rummaging through a tiny box of chalk sticks on her desk. The kids are out at lunch and you know she tends to eat on her own in here instead of the break room where all of the teachers often meet up. Of course, you only chose to come get her because she’s been a good friend, not because of any ulterior motive…
“Planning to stay hidden in there for long or are you going to come out and eat?”
Ellie doesn’t even appear startled and you wonder if she could somehow sense your presence by the door. She throws the tiny, useless pieces in the trash, reminding you to filter through your own box of it, and turns to face you with that eternally smug smile, leaning back against the side of her desk. It’s a mess, but that’s not surprising coming from Ellie. Whether it’s because she’s the art teacher in charge in the school or because that’s simply in her nature, you’re not sure, but you know to no longer be shocked by the sight of paper and paintbrushes thrown randomly on her desk.
“Planning on distracting me for much longer or is that gonna stop at some point?” she answers back. “You can’t come in here looking like this and seriously expect me to think of lunch.”
And that is exactly why Ellie is making you reconsider your opinion on dating.
If it weren’t for the constant light flirting you still don’t know how to read into, you think that handsomely sweet face would have convinced you anyway. It’s not that Ellie is your style, it’s that you’re convinced no one on this planet could be more attractive to you. Today’s look isn’t helping either: that opened cargo shirt barely hides the simple white tank top she must own in four identical copies and doesn’t do much to conceal the tight, sculpted lines of her arms, blues veins running down to paint-stained fingers.
Oh, if only you could stop thinking about how they’d feel dipping into the heat spreading from your clit down to your entrance, filling an emptiness that rings between your legs as much as it does in your heart. Unfortunately, such luck cannot be granted to you. Not yet, and perhaps not ever.
“You’re not flattering yourself out of coming with me.” You slide your hand down to the doorknob and motion for Ellie to follow you out, but she shakes her head, grabbing her phone in the back pocket of her jeans.
“Sorry,” she says, smile dropping with hesitation before she continues. “The girlfriend forgot her lunch at home and I’ve gotta go get it for her. But I’ll see you tonight, we’re still grabbing drinks with the team, right?”
You blink, cheeks straining from the efforts required to keep your smile up even as it turns dishonest, and try to make sense of the word she just uttered, any heat in your belly extinguished by an ice storm. Did she say girl friend or… girlfriend? Why would anyway refer to their friend that way, though… Stop lying to yourself, you got the meaning right on the first try.
Your heart does not break per se, but it skips a few beats you’re incapable of missing. In the few months you got to know each other, Ellie never mentioned a girlfriend nor did she introduce anyone to you.
Well, there goes your only temptation for a relationship. Celibacy it will have to be.
“Of course. See you tonight.”
If Ellie notices the light dim in your eyes, she doesn’t show.
—
That evening, you hesitate until the very last second about going home and finding a new show worth obsessing about or going out as promised. Ellie doesn’t give you much of a choice, however, when she shows up in your classroom right after the last student filters out with his father and pulls you out of your seat, refusing to take no for an answer.
(If it’s the request that convinces you or the strong hold she has on your wrist, you’re not sure. But you still let her tug you to your car anyway.)
The ‘team’ as referred to earlier consists of five other teachers whose classrooms are all sharing a hallway with yours and with whom you spend your Friday evenings in a local beer bar next door, a place Ellie first dragged you all into when you were still relative strangers, to celebrate your arrival. Your usual table is free when you arrive, Mel and Ellie right behind you, and you suppose a beer might be the best way to forget about your stupid little crush and the shame eating at your insides for having taken friendly banter as flirting for months now.
Overall, the night is fun, and after a few well-placed jokes at your expense, you finally manage to leave what happened earlier behind and enjoy yourself. Unfortunately, whatever superior being out there who’s decided you should, after a year of knowing each other, finally get to know all about Ellie’s girlfriend, is not on your side today.
“Oh, hey Abs!” Mel waves behind where you and Ellie sit, still somehow pressed up against each other, and your friend immediately brightens up, turning around to face someone. “Have you finally decided to join us? I thought you’d never leave that work of yours for even one night a week.”
“Maybe next week if she forces me to come.” The woman comes into view and immediately rests a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, smirking down at her before her eyes travel to you and stay locked onto your own for one second too long for it not to feel somehow… knowing. “But nah, I only got here to take Ellie home. I bet she drank too much to drive and that none of you would have been able to convince her not to take her car.”
Mel laughs, joined by the others, and even you have to agree on that. Ellie is particularly stubborn on the average day, but she gets even worse after three beers and a few shots.
“I’m fine, come on… I could drive on my own, a few beers have never killed me.”
The problem is, she says that while stretching an arm over the booth seat, enveloping your shoulders and tugging you closer to her side, and the only explanation for doing that in front of that literal goddess-looking muscle-paradise girlfriend of hers has to be the alcohol. ‘Abs’ raises a curious eyebrow but her smile never dies, and you look away to focus on the bottle clutched in your hand, guts turning into a mix of nervousness and shame that does not blend well with alcohol.
Abby stays around for a bit. The whole time, her eyes remain on you, taking in the features of your face, sweeping over your figure and translating what you would interpret as unabashed attraction if it came from anyone else. It’s like she’s trying to memorize your face, your body, your soul. Like she means to lay an invisible mark on your heart you’ll feel with every beat, right next to the one Ellie has unconsciously placed there long ago.
The arm only leaves its place on your shoulders when who you now know as Abby urges Ellie to go, and you leave soon after, sitting in the dark of your car for five minutes before your head clears enough for you to drive.
That was… definitely something. But you could unfortunately not explain what in any way.
-
The next time you see Abby does not offer any sort of clearer explanation as to why the mood always seems odd around you and Ellie, and particularly so when she’s there with you.
She comes around for drinks for the first time in months the following week and turns your offer to change seats down, seemingly fine with sitting next to you, her girlfriend on your other side. Her presence warms the hearts of everyone around the table but yours, stressing you out beyond sanity. You know you didn’t do anything wrong and that it’s probably a good thing that you learned of Ellie’s seemingly very joyful and fulfilling relationship now rather than after an attempted kiss or a date proposal. Yet, you cannot help but feel unsure around her - like she knows, like she can read through your heart and flick through its pages until its secrets have been bared.
Abby never talks to you nor mentions you in her conversations, yet, she’s always got an eye trailed on your figure, always silently insists on you being aware that you’re taking all of her attention.
And Ellie, well… Ellie has not changed, and that’s probably where the actual problem lies.
She still smiles at you with that signature smugness you know is only reserved for her girlfriend. She still flirts and teases and touches, still makes comments about how prettily you blush and how well that shirt fits you and you never know what to answer to any of those things. This time again, one of her arms is spread over your shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of Abby’s shirt on your other side, and if anyone were to look, they’d probably think you’re dating either of them - if not both.
Your thoughts are interrupted by her voice, and you almost let go of the glass of water you requested earlier when its now familiar murmur tickles your ear. “I like this skirt. Is it me you got it for? I’m sure Abby would like it just as much.”
Poorly disguised shock shines in your eyes but Ellie appears unphased, not even bothering with a glance at where her girlfriend listens to Mel vent about a fight between two of her students. You clear your throat, avoiding the heaviness of her stare, and shake your head timidly, scared to voice out your thoughts or to be heard. The fabric isn’t anything short per se, but it rode up your thighs through the night, and you’re suddenly far too aware of where Abby’s glances might have led to earlier. Ellie’s only response is a chuckle.
You think that’s the end of it but that’s without counting on the end of the night - when everyone leaves but Ellie insists you stay around some more, and Abby doesn’t show any interest in moving away, her thighs spread and pressing you further into Ellie. The arm behind your back moves and this time, you can’t control the way your body jumps when she places a hand just above your knee, stroking the tight fabric of your skirt.
“So,” you begin, trying to break the silence. “How long have you two been together?”
Abby takes a swing of her beer and your eyes follow the bulging muscle of her biceps until Ellie reminds you of her presence by patting your thigh affectionately. “Three years now. We met when Abby came around the school to renovate the gym with her crew and ended up moving in two months later. She’s a carpenter.”
“Oh,” you exclaim, interested but also still very much nervous. “That’s definitely helpful to have around at home. How long have you been doing this for?”
It’s the first time you address her directly and the kindness you’re met with feels almost surprising. You don’t think you would be kind to someone your girlfriend is two inches away from touching inappropriately right under your nose, but you suppose you should be glad that’s the case here.
“Ever since I was a kid, really. Being a carpenter didn’t exactly fit my father’s plans but he always encouraged me anyway when I saw how much fun I had fixing things and building my own. What about you? What got you to into teaching?”
Tension leaves your back altogether when her answer reflects the smile perched on her lips and the mirth shining in her eyes. “Children, really. It started with babysitting and then all I could think about was teaching.”
Abby’s eyes dip down to your lips. “That’s cute.”
“I told you she’s adorable,” Ellie interrupts. “And beautiful too, isn’t she? I knew she’d be your type.”
Your lips part to speak but before a protest can slip past them, Abby nods, smile turning almost predatory. “I’d say she’s your own just as much. You’ve always liked your girls a bit innocent.”
“I’m not-”
“Can you blame me, though?”
Abby pretends to think for a second and gets that knowing look again, reading through the blush spreading up to your ears and the fast ups and downs of your chest in ways you fail to understand yourself. Everything’s going too fast, like a ball bouncing from one side of the court to the other, and it suddenly feels like they’re discussing you, praising you, without even including you in the conversation anymore.
“No. I think I understand.”
Ellie chuckles, inching her hand higher up on your lap, and she allows the silence to persist for a moment longer before standing up to order another round for you. Abby never looks away. You’re still trying to comprehend what just happened, still failing to make sense of why your friend’s partner is staring at you like she’s considering the interest of throwing you over the table dirty with food crumbs and alcohol spills and flexing those fingers inside of your cunt instead of playing with the tip of her bottle.
“Oh, you’ve got some crumbs here,” Abby says, eyes flicking down to wear your shirt wraps tightly around your chest. You follow her line of sight, wondering how that could be when you didn’t eat any of the fries they ordered earlier, and find nothing. “Here, I’ll get them off for you.”
Before a word of gratefulness can echo between the two of you, your lips part in shock, a hand positioning itself right above your breast and arching a curious eyebrow, staring into the depths of your eyes. There’s no hesitation in the action, but rather a sort of anticipation you find yourself trapped into. “Is this alright?” she asks, the “Yes,” out by your lips before you can even make sense of what she means.
Deep down, you know what it means. Deep down, you’ve got a feeling Abby might have been familiar with you far before your recent introduction.
Once your agreement has been voiced, Abby startles you, immediately aiming for your right breast and gripping it with the whole length of her palm. A thumb rubs at soft skin only hidden by the light fabric of your shirt, almost transparent, not thick enough to act as a proper barrier, and you can feel it all - the heat of her hand, its roughness, how it’s thick enough, big enough to effortlessly envelop all of one breast.
It’s the first time her eyes have moved away from the trance they had yours stuck into, her stare dipping down to where she pretends to rub at your shirt, only reminding you of the absence of a bra to truly cover you. Your nipple hardens under her palm and that seems to be the goal because her hand changes sides, repeating the process, teasing and rubbing, the cotton fabric too rough for the sensitive little bud. Your thighs rub against each other, failing to get any sort of release from the pressure burning your cunt, hips almost bucking in a silent plea to be filled up by those very same fingers.
Abby smiles, still kind, still honest, and shifts her hand only to roll it between two fingers, pulling a wet moan from your lips you fear the people behind you might catch. “See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” And just like that, she pulls away, hand settling back around her beer, leaving you to deal with the wetness soaking your underwear and the blush heating your face, shining like a broken christmas light.
“Y-yeah.” It’s odd that you even manage to speak when flames circle hardened nipples, driving you into unknown depths of desire, but you’re proud to say you at least manage a coherent sound. “Thank you.”
When Ellie comes back, conversation follows a course far more normal, and if it weren’t for the hooded eyes, the pulsing heat, and the hand claiming its spot back on your lap, you’d think you hallucinated all of the tension.
The state of your underwear when you strip down before a shower later that night, however, is all the proof you need. Yet, you fail to truly comprehend what happened. The innocence that almost shone in Abby’s eyes as she touched you is impossible to make sense of, and the next morning, you’re no longer sure of what her intentions truly were.
Did she mean to tease you like Ellie has been doing - as a friend, a friend who has a pretty interesting definition of the word platonic but a friend nonetheless? Or was this more?
You’re not sure, but if anything, you won’t be the one to bring up the question just yet.
-
Ellie and Abby are coming over to your house to help with the endless renovations you’ve been making. And no, it wasn’t your idea.
You’ve been avoiding thinking about Abby and how she’s just as illegally fine as who you already considered to be the hottest woman alive, and although ignoring Ellie is impossible, you at least made some progress this past week with accepting the flirting as some meaningless fun. When you complained about the difficulties you’ve been having with painting the ceilings of two rooms and fixing the guest room bed, however, Ellie suggested that they come over to help and, well, how could you turn down such a nice proposal?
That’s how you end up watching them by the kitchen’s window as they relax around a glass of iced tea in the garden, cheeks stained with light grey paint and arms bared, water running in the sink and acting as the background noise to your current fantasies.
The mind owns a power the heart only dreams of having, capable of eternal wanderings uncontrolled by even the strongest wills.
Yours has not resisted purposeless dreams. Dreams that once involved Ellie, a sweet craving for what could perhaps come to exist in the realm of reality - a craving for late-night guitar sessions and paintings in bold colors, for rough palms to sculpt your heart into submission and teasing smirks wiped away by kisses. Dreams that now involve someone else, a person you have yet to truly understand but who seems to perfectly fit a puzzle from which you did not believe a piece lost. Her body rings with a rigidity that’s a lot more pronounced, yet her heart appears softer, willing to lead you further into the depths of a euphoric swamp.
A blurry motion startles you out of your thoughts and you blink to find the water is still running, the time still passing. Ellie is waving at you and Abby is staring with a raised eyebrow of curiosity.
You smile, waving back, and turn off the tap.
Fantasies are just that, unfortunately. You’ll have to make do with your imagination because it seems Abby isn’t intending on repeating what you’re getting more and more convinced was meaningless teasing anytime soon.
-
They spend the next weekend at your house too, fixing broken cupboards and a tall wardrobe you couldn’t figure out how to close fully, helping with the garden and any heavy objects you need to move around.
It comes to a point where you decide that if you can’t have either of them, then dreaming is fine. The only problem is that you end up doing that a lot, and getting caught is inevitable.
“Could I borrow your shower?” asks Ellie once the day reaches its end, the sun freefalling on the horizon. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” Abby has fetched a chair for the same reason but you know how much Ellie like to sit beside you. Her girlfriend’s presence has not stopped the oncoming stream of cuddles she requires from you, and you’re more than happy to be held, touch-starved since the end of your last relationship.
“Sure. I’ll get the food ready.”
You stand from the couch to head for the kitchen but before you can disappear, Ellie grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up, revealing a glistening, tight stomach in what feels like a slow motion to you but is surely a very normal pace for anyone else. The fabric slides off her shoulders and gets thrown straight to Abby’s face but your brain is in no way capable to register anything but newly revealed skin and soft curves hidden under a white sports bra.
“Feel free to join me,” she adds, teasingly, and you know it has to be directed at Abby who, it seems, is just as affected as you are judging by the darkened gaze she keeps directed at Ellie, but if that’s the case, then you cannot explain why Ellie is staring right at you as she says it before turning around and leaving for the bathroom.
It’s that gaze you see once they’re gone that night, writhing on top of your bed, covers thrown to the floor and pillow wet with your spit. It’s that gaze encouraging a second, then a third finger to fit into your cunt, the pressure too much yet so far from what you wish for, from how well you know they would both fill you, breaching past undesired tightness and taking all that you’re willing to give.
And it’s their voices, blended in as one, whispering praise into your ear and urging you to let go when you finally fall over the edge, tears pooling in your eyes and teeth aching from the marks they’ve left in that poor pillow.
-
“You know,” you begin, words not slurring but speech clearly affected by physical exhaustion and beer. “I thought you were flirting with me before you suddenly mentioned your girlfriend.”
A chuckle greets you, but you can’t tell if it comes from Abby or Ellie, both of them cuddling on the couch in front of you as you lay on the fluffy chair you bought for decoration purposes but that’s actually pretty amazing to use when sleepy. The night has fallen and you spent a lot of time in the garden today while Abby watched over you and Ellie finished with painting touch-ups, explaining the tiredness numbing your arms and the effects of the alcohol.
Your eyes remain closed and you shift around when air tickles the bottom of your stomach, your shirt having ridden up to reveal skin.
“What if I was?” and this time, you know it’s Ellie - sure, because it sounds like her, but also because she’s the one who likes teasing you the most.
You huff, internally rolling your eyes. “With a girlfriend like Abby, trust me, you were not. You’d be dumb to flirt with anyone else or want to kiss anyone else,” you say, voice barely above a murmur. That second beer should not have been handed in your hand, but Ellie has always been a bad influence and Abby drinks them with little effort. Slowly, you half-whisper, “Bet her lips are so soft.”
Abby laughs this time, reminding you of her presence, but you’re too far gone to care. “I think yours would put up a great fight in a contest,” she says, the smile evident in her voice. “Maybe even win, who knows. I know I wouldn’t mind trying you out.”
“Hey!” Ellie interrupts, “I get to try her out first. I found her. You would want me first, wouldn’t you?”
It takes a while for you to register the question and understand you’re being spoken to. “I think I want the both of you… together.”
Someone’s breath hitches, but you fall asleep before you can find out whose.
All you remember the next morning is strong arms holding onto the back of your thighs and your back carrying you up the stairs, a pair of sweet lips leaving a kiss on your forehead, and the throbbing traces of a hand on the naked skin of your stomach.
That must have been a fairly nice dream.
-
You’re in the kitchen when things truly take a turn you did not expect to happen in reality, breaching the realm of fantasies and fully stepping into your life - your peaceful and joyful life that, as you will soon come to realize, was actually missing two precious souls to reach the desperate form of completion you sought.
Abby is drying the dishes you’re washing and Ellie is… well, she’s simply being herself, avoiding any sort of chore and whistling in the living room as she chooses what movie you’ll all be watching tonight. The mood has been particularly tense today and this time, you’re glad to say it’s not your fault. Abby has been especially attentive to you, asking about your day, your past, and the shape you imagine your future to take, casually exchanging indecipherable looks with Ellie. They’re more than familiar with your house now yet they’ve never acted more like strangers scared of trespassing.
If you didn’t know better, you would think of them as almost… afraid.
Fortunately, the tension left as soon as night fell and you all settled back into soothing habits. At least, that’s what you think, until a shadow looms over your back, blocking the naked lightbulb from shining light on the last plate in your hand, and you realize that Ellie isn’t as busy as she made it out to be.
“Dinner was great, thanks for preparing all of it again,” she says, supporting her weight with one hand on the countertop and the left one innocently resting on your hip. Her touch is welcomed and familiar, her palm cupping the curve to perfection. “Anyone ever told you you’d make the perfect little wife?”
You chuckle, rolling your eyes although you know she won’t be able to see it. “If that’s truly the case, there’d be a lot more people pilling up at my door, or at least one person. I think you two are just terrible cooks in desperate need of a chef.”
Abby shakes her head, nudging you with her elbow as she wipes water from a pack of forks. “You’re not wrong in thinking we’d wife you up in an instant if you wanted, but not because you’d be a great chef.”
“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, flexing her fingers where they rest on your hip. “I can think of a few other reasons. You’d be an amazing mother, for one, and you’re far more patient than either of us deserve.”
“And you’re ready to put up with her stubbornness, so a perfect match, really.” Abby’s comment makes you laugh but Ellie speaks again before you can tease her about her own issues with never doing as told.
“All of that, and I even bet you’d be such a pretty little thing to fuck.” Your hands freeze on where you’ve just put the plate away, tension seizing unready muscles. You blink, staring by the window, the night turning it into a mirror and reflecting the shock wild in your eyes. For a second, you’re convinced to have misheard. But the silence that follows tells the opposite story. Ellie’s close, suddenly, closer than she was before, and Abby’s hands have stilled as well, her body tight with stress. “I feel like we didn’t thank you properly for all the meals you’ve prepared for us. What do you think, Abby?”
At the edge of your vision, you can sense that Abby has given in and glances at you from the corner of an eye, the sound of her breathing audible, loud. “I think she very much likes politeness, and… it would be rude not to give back after taking so much, wouldn’t it?”
“Right. And what about you, um?” The hand on your hip slowly slides closer to your front before drawing back, again and again, in what feels like a maddening caress. “Do you think we should thank you? Together, I mean.”
Later, you’ll have more than enough time to consider just how stupid it was for you, at that precise moment, to doubt the true meaning behind Ellie’s suggestion. There’s a part of you that yearns for this to be real, for it to feel real, but that part cannot be allowed to exist because it is directly connected to a risk of disappointment you’re not sure you would survive. So, when you reply a breathy little, “Yes,” you don’t actually expect what follows.
“Good girl.”
A whine spills past your lips but the reason behind its existence is blurry - is it the praise, vibrating through your lungs and soaking your cunt, or is it the hand that fully slides against your front, rubbing at the seam of your jeans frustratingly right above your heat, the other suddenly palming the curve of your ass and roughly kneading skin? You think you’ll never know for the first moan, but the next one is inevitably due to the second pair of hands finding a place to have some fun of their own.
“I can feel how soaked you are already,” Ellie says, tone teasing, taunting and forcing past your defenses. “Are you sure you didn’t expect this to happen? How often did you fuck yourself wishing it was us, hmm, pretty girl?”
You think that question should not require an answer, mostly because you’re incapable of giving any, incapable of getting that brain of yours to think and function properly. But Abby doesn’t seem happy with your silence, and she finally decides to remind you of her presence.
“We asked you a question, sweetheart.” Her voice startles you and your head turns to face her, your heart soothed by the admiration and the awe and the desire reflected in usually tight features. She’s smiling, not that usually kind expression but one that’s almost amused, and you realize you’re in serious, serious trouble with these two. Two fingers seize you by the chin, pushing it upward, and a thumb rubs at your bottom lip. “How empty did you feel thinking about how good we could take care of you?”
“I- I didn’t-” Ellie’s nails sink into the flesh of your ass, reprimanding, and Abby tuts, shaking her head disappointedly.
“It’s alright,” she adds. “You can be honest with us. There’s not a single time we fucked since you started working here that we didn’t think about you, about how complete you’d make us.” And you’re going to process that at some point, but now will not be that time. Not when she continues to speak, stealing any hope for coherency from under your feet. “We’ll take care of you now, though. Come on, Ellie, don’t be a tease.”
Ellie hesitates, hands still, fingers flexing. They stare at each other with blazing heat in what you think could be a fight for dominance you’re not sure to make sense of when they could just take out all of that on you.
“You better beg for it.”
When the gearwheels begin to roll again, you lose all sense of reality.
It’s like they both observed you for months, like they figured out what button to push and with how much strength, what you love and what you’re too ashamed to admit you need. Chills of shame erupt on your arms at the idea, worsened by how smoothly Ellie works your body.
“Let’s get these off you,” she mutters, lips hovering right next to your nape, inches away from a kiss. “You won’t be needing them around us anymore.”
There’s possessiveness in her words and there’s possessiveness in how fast she slips the button of your jeans off and tugs on the material, slowly, as if to admire what is finally hers to worship and use as she deems fit. Abby growls, watching with a well-trained eye as the tight fabric slides over your ass, and her hand moves down to press against your throat, keeping your back shamefully arched, ass raised for their eyes to feast onto. Your pants end halfway down your thighs, and you have to say there’s nothing surprising about Ellie’s eagerness to get to the source of her desires, hot between your thighs.
“Abby told me I’d love your ass. Guess she wasn’t wrong.” You expect your underwear to follow next but she decides not to bother with that. “Ever gotten fucked there before, or are you keeping that tight little hole for when we decide to use it?”
“N-never, I- I don’t-”
Abby sighs, shaking her head warningly. “Ellie… focus.”
“Right, sorry. We’ll keep that in mind for another time, you’re ours now anyway, aren’t you? Our pretty little toy.”
You’re all but ready to cry when fingers slides into the front of your underwear, familiar roughness perceptible in the actions, immediately drenched in your desires. Your cunt aches, your core throbs, and your nipples harden. A cocktail of needs that can only be sated by much more than what you’re given. Efficient fingers part your folds before expertly reaching that little bud of sensitiveness at the top of your mound, circling it, pinching it, driving you crazy with it.
But that’s not what truly seals the first release of the night. That only comes when Abby decides to fully join in on the fun.
Fingers unbutton your shirt until it parts to reveal the pale pink bra that matches the current dark pink of your panties, only abandoning your neck until the offending lace has been pushed right under your breasts and returning to its hold. You think Abby’s going to kiss you, for a moment, but she’s only reveling in the hot puffs of air slipping past your lips and trying to swallow down the guttural moan that vibrates in your throat when Ellie decides she wants to take the next step.
The hand that had for now been palming your ass travels closer to your center and tugs flimsy fabric out of the way carelessly. You’re not given a warning when the first finger breaches past your entrance, only the sound of Ellie spitting on her fingers for unnecessary lube and that feeling of needing frustratingly more. A whine lodges itself at the back of your throat, and they both laugh, only turning your frustration worse.
You want to move and fight back, tell them you’re more than capable of taking charge yourself. But there’s something about being treated as a toy meant to receive pleasure, about being admired and taken and praised, about that second finger joining the first and filling the tightness of your cunt, that forces you into a soothing form of submission, allowing every touch and taking them willingly.
Abby palms at one breast, rolling a nipple under the strong surface in a touch that translates all of her strength. “Is that blush for us, pretty thing? You’re gonna come all over her hand like a good slut already, aren’t you?”
And, it’s cruel, but of course you do.
Ellie flexes her fingers, increasing the speed of her arm. You can’t see it, but you know veins must shy prettily all over her forearm and biceps must be bulging from the tightness required to fuck you like she does now - like she wants to pull orgasm after orgasm from your core until you no longer understand what it means not to feel the maddening pulse of a release coursing through your body like liquid fire. Abby turns meaner, rougher, pinching a nipple between two fingers and pressing the hand further into your neck, forcing you to follow its direction and standing further on your toes.
Four hands - teasing, fucking, taking.
Two souls tauntingly attracting your own into their orbit, sealing an invisible lock around your heart, your body, your being itself.
And sweet, sweet praise, whispered right under your ear, sending you into a release you’re helpless to control.
“Ellie, Abby… I-” The moan that travels from your chest and spills past your lips is rough, guttural, connected to the inhuman waves of pleasures rocking through your body. Your cunt clenches around the fingers still thrusting in and out of your center, clinging onto the digits until they’re forced to stop, Ellie breathing heavily in your ear. Abby kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth nibbling at sensitive skin and laying a mark you refuse to ever cover.
Your moan ends, broken off in tense breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, and that’s when you catch the groan vibrating Ellie’s throat. It, too, falls into silence.
Abby swears against your skin, a deep, rough “Fuck,” that sends shivers down your spine.
“Told you she’d be the cutest little thing to corrupt,” Ellie teases, slowly sliding out of you, fighting against the tightness of your walls and your eagerness to be fucked into a stupid mess. “She’s all proper and shit but I could tell she’d love it.”
“I never doubted you.” Abby says, kissing the lone tear sliding down your cheek with all of the tenderness she can conjure. “Come on, let’s get her on a proper surface.”
Heat blooms on your cheeks when Ellie steps away to allow Abby to take you into her arms, the ground suddenly disappearing from under your feet. The way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like you’re too fucked out to understand a single word, would be shameful under any other circumstance. You know it’s only a game when Ellie takes advantage of finally facing you by planting a soft kiss on your forehead, pushing away a lazy strand of hair.
They begin to walk toward your bedroom like they perfectly know the way, and your vision turns dark right as they push the door open.
-
“Can you hold her open for me or have you been slacking at the gym?”
Your eyes remain closed, but your brain kickstarts itself into working properly again. You can feel the familiar linen of your sheets under your ass and soft naked breasts pressed against your back, another weight shifting in front of you on the bed.
The body behind yours shakes in rhythm with a chuckle and you recognize Ellie. “Can you still eat pussy or should we trade so I can show you? Sorry we didn’t plan for your strap, I thought she might have a cock lying around but… we’ll have to take care of that next time.”
“Fuck you,” says Abby half-heartedly, the sound followed by more shifting.
You’re fully aware again when Ellie grabs the back of your thighs and tugs them, spreading your legs and allowing air to tickle the slick still running from your center, drenched folds bared for anyone to use as they please.
“Come on, get to it. I know you’re hungry.”
Another pair of hands holds you by the ass and your eyes flutter open, hoping to catch sight of what you once dreamed about. Abby barely spares you a glance before she all but leaps to feast on your cunt, igniting a fire not yet extinguished.
“Abby… Abby…” You repeat her name like a plea, like a prayer. Your hips buck and trash around, your heart pauses and starts again, your releases come and come again right after each other until you exist no more, a broken toy a kid cannot help but continue to play with.
Lips circle your clit and suck, pull and deliver rough kisses. An expert tongue gathers slicks at your entrance and spreads it all over already drenched folds, eating rather than licking, a starved woman relishing in her first and last mean. It’s all too much, too soon, too sensitive, and you’re in no way capable of pulling away, four hands keeping you all tight and secure in their hold, a prisoner to your own pleasure.
“Keep them coming, pretty thing. I want your cunt red by the time we’re done with you tonight,” Ellie murmurs in your ear before resuming the path of tenderness her mouth trailing on down your neck.
You only find the strength left in yourself to follow that order.
-
An unwelcomed warmth burns your closed eyelids and you shift, attempting to escape its path. To your great despair, it doesn’t budge. A tired groan echoes in the room and you blink sleep back into your body, limbs stretching and encountering a soreness that did not exist before.
Oh. Right. Last night happened and… it was not a dream this time.
Fear seizes your heart for a moment and you quickly look around, scared to find the bed empty save for your body. A happy sigh of relief marks the moment you see them - Abby clinging to Ellie’s back, still sound asleep and temptingly naked, and Ellie holding onto your waist, staring up at you with a smug look and a kind smile.
“Morning,” she says, voice broken from sleep. “You didn’t think we’d abandon you, did ya?”
“N-no I… I’m just happy to see you.” You cannot control the dumb smile that widens on your lips, and Ellie’s smirk only widens, her hold pulling you back into the eternal depths of the sheets.
“We’re not going anywhere, try to get some more sleep.”
It’s a simple sentence, meaningless on the surface.
Yet, you know it’s more than that.
It’s a promise.
A promise for more, meant to suppress the doubts blossoming in your chest. A promise that they’ll be there when you awake again, and again, and again.
#ellie williams#abby anderson#ellie williams x abby anderson x reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x reader#abby anderson x reader#abby x reader#the last of us#ellie x reader#ellie williams smut#abby anderson smut#ellie williams x abby anderson#ellabs
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Hihi !! Before i request I just love your writing so much and I couldn’t resist to request this!!
Could I request a teen! Reader (angel) who’s sees crowley & aziraphale as their parental figures who is trying to make something nice for them?
The reader is super silly and innocent so like the stuff they make look like something else 💀
Handmade
Ineffable Husbands x teen!angel!reader
Summary: Y/n wants to do something special for their favorite angel/demon duo. So, they try their ethereal hand at the human art of crafting.
Content: y/n uses they/them pronouns, improper use of miracles,
Note: Anon, you're such an absolute sweetheart. I appreciate you so much. Unfortunately, I didn't realize what you meant by 'something else' until after but hopefully you still enjoy the fic.
Rating: 14+ || 500+ w.
Gifts were important. Gifts were a way of expressing profound love for an individual, at least that is what Aziraphale had taught you. Gifts meant a lot; they were a language all their own. Gifts meant I love you.
Gifts were hard.
You stared at the heaping pile of crafting utensils Maggie from the record shop had leant you. There were a lot of options and she had even been kind enough to make you a list of ideas, the only problem was that none of it seemed quite right for Aziraphale and Crowley.
You stared at the felt and the streamers and silently willed yourself to come up with an idea, but nothing happened. Sighing, you sat back with your shoulders pressing against the side of Aziraphale's desk. It was lucky that they were out, the sight of you sitting on the floor surrounded by confetti might raise an alarm. Or perhaps not, you were prone to floor sitting.
You tossed your head back against the leg of the table and the telephone jingled with the bang. Perhaps you should call her and ask for her help, but no, this was your idea, and it would make it even more special if you did it yourself. There had to be something you could make.
Your eyes drifted to a stray bottle of silver glitter and stayed there, staring with such mindless intensity it was a miracle the tension didn't cause the bottle to bust. Miracles. You could use a little miracle of your own right about now.
"Wait," you sat up too quickly, dizzying yourself, and snatched up the little plastic bottle of glitter. "If it's only a small miracle, and one for good, then I can't possibly get in trouble for it. And it's still like I'm making it myself, because I am." A smile stretched wide across your face, and you turned to the plant in the corner, "This is going to be perfect."
Hours later, when Crowley and Aziraphale arrived back at the bookshop, there was a notable difference to the building. That being because the entire inside of the bookshop had turned into a Victorian style ballroom. "Right, well...what's all this?" You beamed at the demon from where you stood in the center of the large room. "Suprise! It's a gift!"
Aziraphale's face went from something sad - which you had luckily missed - to something proud and beaming. "A gift, yes! And, oh, how wonderful!" Crowley didn't look quite as convinced. However, he perked up quite notably when the record player you had been fiddling with started to play Queen's Somebody to Love. You offered a hand to both fellow angel and the demon in front of you, "Care to dance?"
"Why certainly!" Aziraphale answered for the both of them, whatever complaint Crowley had been about to give died in his throat as he was yanked along. As you danced, you made a mental note to thank Maggie for the record next time you saw her. Perhaps you might even thank her with a gift.
|| masterlist || navigation ||
story by hretoprvdthepltnx©
Ineffable Husbands/Good Omens copyrighted by Neil Gaiman©
#platonic fanfiction#good omens#aroace#aroace fanfiction#aromantic#arospec#asexual#platonic good omens#good omens x reader#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic#good omens x gn!reader#renew good omens#good omens x teen#good omens x kid#ineffable husbands x reader platonic#ineffable husbands x child reader#ineffable husbands x reader#ineffable dads
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Hey, I'm new here and i love your blog! I was wondering if the boys see couple\sexual edits of them together and if it makes them nervous but then it hit me that they probably aren't seeing what i see on western social media. Do you have any idea if those types of homosexual posts get censored in China?
Hi Yingyangorly! Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog!☺️
I have a huge long, like, ridiculously long post in my drafts related to this topic, hopefully coming soon.
But to answer your question, I think it's impossible that GG and DD would fail to see at least some of what's posted about them as a couple, whether sent to them by friends, family or staff, or whether stumbled upon or intentionally sought out/browsed by them. It's inevitable they'll see some of it, particularly things that get a lot of attention.
I talked about this a bit a while back. GG and DD have said in interviews that they have fake social media accounts (and of course they would - how could you go anywhere or do anything on social media without one if you were famous?), and this kind of discussion has happened somewhat in relation to fan comments, etc.
You can check out my previous post for more on that stuff.
As for sexual edits, etc., like any other content I've no doubt they've seen some of it - it's inevitable they would - but I doubt it worries them all that much. It's highly unlikely to ever impact them directly, because ultimately it's not really about them, is it? It's about the creators who make it. Any backlash is more likely to fall upon creators, not GG and DD.
And just as a reminder - it's not illegal to be gay in China, it's not illegal to post homosexual content, etc. Such content is censored on TV and other broadcast media, but not online.
Porn is very illegal in China, but that's mostly only selectively enforced. In fact, China produces a lot of porn and a lot of smutty fiction and all of it is illegal, but it still manages to thrive fairly well.
Explicit content of any kind is technically not allowed on Weibo but it's still out there - although most of it is pretty toned down and tame. Actual porn of sexual activity isn't ubiquitous there, but lewd fan art, fan fic, edits and memes can often be found.
All platforms globally have rules against explicit content, and they're just as poorly enforced everywhere. I suspect a lot of that is because social media engagement makes money, and sex sells. It's not really in the interest of platforms to completely shut down all such content - even if it was possible to do so.
The supertopic rules likely have more impact on fan behavior in this regard than the Weibo TOS does. Those rules forbid mentioning GG and DD by name or tagging their accounts, and forbid sexualization, pornography, feminization and fixating on body parts. However, that's only within the supertopics. Ultimately people are free to post whatever they want on their own accounts, and they do.
Given how many antis and solos are out there trying to take down the turtle fandom, the fact that these things manage to stay up for as long as they do speaks to how weak the enforcement is. There are definitely people out there who will report things that offend them.
This is, in fact, how the whole 227 thing got started. A bunch of solos decided to report an explicit fanfic to the government, and things spiralled out of control from there.
Could lightning strike a second time and another 227 be sparked from some of this explicit content? For a lot of complicated reasons I'm not going to get into here (it would be a very long post), I don't think that's likely.
227 was a special, very complicated situation that I don't think is likely to happen the same way again. Timing and a lot of the other factors that played into its blowing up the way it did - all of that is unlikely to align in such a way. Especially since everyone in C-ent is a lot more cautious and vigilant after 227.
GG and DD are both in good standing with the government (as is evidenced by their inclusion in government and nationalistic projects), and that's a factor that will have some influence. And no doubt they and their teams have learned a lot from past experience, and have already planned for how to protect them in various scenarios that could arise.
They also have the power to have content relating to them removed, to sue content creators, to shut down the supertopics if they want to, etc.. If they feel at risk, they have a lot of recourse. The fact that we aren't seeing this happening should reassure us that it's probably fine.
We have to realize that GG and DD are surrounded by highly skilled, highly paid professionals whose entire job is to protect them and their interests. They're both in a much safer place than they were 4 years ago.
I trust them to know what's best for them and handle their affairs accordingly. We as fans shouldn't waste time hand-wringing over things that are completely outside our control.
As for what's within our control - it's up to every individual to make our own choices about how we'll represent GG and DD online.
More on that angle if/when I ever finish that other post.
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IN HIS DEFENCE YOUR HONOR, HE IS JUST A SILLY BOY
I'll just drop a little art here, keep doing what you're doing, you're doing amazing! You write so well and I can only imagine the effort it takes to pull out these chapters, so please take care of yourself too!! I've already absolutely word-vomited how much I love your work and hyukin I'll do it again-
The way that all of the brothers react to Leo is just so believable and heart-wrenching and oh my goodness poor Raph give the poor boy a break- The recovery arc that hopefully will come is gonna be a long journey (Probably more Dr. Delicate touch than Dr. Feelings slapping some of that self-sacrifice out of Leo-). Also, the sibling sense needed to make both of the climatic scenes in your fics during the Thanksgiving parade is just great, I swear it's like that sometimes though.
At the start of chapter 22 he isn't Void he's Leo. He is coping with these events as Leo. Only when he realizes that it's all real does he slip back into the Void mask. We as readers can see the literal struggle between Leo and Void through his ninpo, as it seems like (correct me if I'm wrong, or don't lol) it burns the krang infection, it seems like the only thing that can actually hurt the infection. Leo is extremely damage-resistant to the point that even nonconsensual amputation isn't really an issue to him but ninpo seems like the only thing that can genuinely hurt him. Even if I'm completely off with this whole rant, it's so cool to see how the story unfolds, trying to figure out the limits of your universe is an amazing experience.
Every time you update I feel so glad that I can see the story unfold in real time. I can't wait for the next update, but don't feel like you need to push yourself for this fic, you're doing great, especially with the quality of what you write! Maybe it's a little repetitive at this point, but really I find it absolutely unbelievable what you are able to do and I admire your ability to write such convincing narratives.
Anyways, please take the silly boi :D
THANK YOU YOU'RE SO SWEET!!!! it makes me so so so happy to hear that you're enjoying both perspectives, because it's very fun to write and i love to explore what everyone might be feeling ;w; and i'm having a LOT of fun exploring Ninpo. I'm a little sad we didn't get more of since the show ended right after the Shredder fight, but I like to think that there's nothing like it-- something unique just for them 🩵
AND THANK U FOR THE FANART AHHH 🩵😭💞💘💗‼️
#listen Leo's pain tolerance is very High but he is weak against the comfort Ninpo brings him#get beat with kindness nerd (affectionate)#kashdajh thank u again this was very sweet ;w;#TNV Final Chapters Spoilers#TNV asks#The Neon Void#The Neon Void TMNT#TNV TMNT#The Neon Void fanart#TNV fanart#fanfic fanart#rottmnt fanfiction#tmnt fanfiction#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#ROTTMNT#save ROTTMNT
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drowning in you || Rafayel | Qi Yu
Summary:
Valentinesday doesn't work out, does it?
Wordcount: 2.5k
Read on AO3
Pairing:
Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC
Tags/CW:
established relationship, dancing and kissing in the rain, flirting, bathing and washing each other, non-sexual intimacy, references(spoilers) to Mainstory and Myth, Moles as lasting kisses from the last life, implied sexual content after fic, domestic fluff
Note:
Happy Valentines!! I wrote this bc I go insane for him oops
– where r u? ive been waiting for ages
omw! close to the entrance of the park –
With a little smile, you let your phone slide back into your bag. Rafayel has told you to come to the park nearby, and you wonder what he’s planning, hopefully not another trip on a boat, the simple memory makes you shiver. After that incident, you would never trust him with an oar ever again. But because you’re supposed to meet him at the entrance of the park, you assume it must be something slightly drier.
You round the last corner, and immediately spot his figure, arms crossed, close to the park. For a moment, you take your time to look at him, the way the sun shines between his hair, giving him some sort of underwater feeling. But you can’t help but squint when you notice his attire, one you have seen before, one Rafayel usually wears when meeting for some art stuff of his. You brush it off, it’s usual for him to wear something that draws the eye, being an artist and all, he does love showing his aesthetic with his clothes.
He seems to have sensed you, because he turns in your direction, and while you smile at him and hurry your steps to get closer to him, his lips push slightly forward.
“Finally, I thought you had forgotten about me! Did you look at the time? It’s been ages, I feel like I’m about to see fish walk on land,” he mutters the moment you stop in front of him.
“Well, I think I already see one,” you grin, before cupping his cheeks carefully. “In fact, this fish is right in front of me.”
The pout doesn’t disappear entirely, but it does soften as he leans closer to your skin. “See? I was right, you’ve left me waiting for too long.”
A huff of breath hits your face softly before he straightens up, not even waiting for your answer as he takes your hand in his, entwining your fingers together. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here now. Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, you both enter the park, and follow the path for quite some time. You have no idea what Rafayel wants to show you, so you only walk by his side, simply enjoying this quality time while looking around the place in peace.
The park seems huge, as before you both even arrived at his set destination, you begin to feel something cold hitting your head. You scrunch your face and look up, only for a drop of water to hit your cheek, your eyelids. You blink in surprise as the rain falls, multiplying with each second, with each step.
A groan, and your gaze immediately flicks to Rafayel, who’s gingerly holding a hand over his head. “Great, now everything is ruined… Did the weather forecast make a mistake? I even checked it for today” He turns to you and meets your eyes. “Let’s go back, c’mon.”
He sighs, disappointment apparent in the way his shoulders slump. “I guess, we’re going to make it up another time… Let’s hurry up and escape this annoying rain.”
You squeeze his hand as you follow his brisk steps into the direction you both came from. “It’s okay, spending time with you is more than enough for me.”
Your words only seem to make him walk faster, the rain hitting your face softly, and you can’t help but slow down slightly.
Laughing, you can’t help but tease him. “But let’s slow down a bit. You’re not going to turn into a mermaid the moment water touches you, are you?”
He turns around to face you, his face scrunched up in a pout. “How ridiculous! That only happens in those TV series. And we’re both already wet, wouldn’t it be too late to consider that anyway?” He cocks his head to the side, before a smug look takes over. “Unless you want me to turn into one to ogle at me, hm? Wouldn’t you like that?” With these words, he leans closer towards you, a grin over his plush lips.
Your eyes flick towards them before returning to his eyes, his lashes clumped and longer with the dripping water. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and now you’re the one with a small pout on your lips. For a moment, you don’t have any comebacks, so you decide to do what always works the best.
Your free hand grabs his shoulders and you stretch slightly towards him. Your lips meet his. And despite the cold water, his skin is warm against yours. Without missing a beat, his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you closer, stealing another peck before you could fully pull away.
Once there’s some space between your faces, you can’t help but grin at the redness spreading over the tips of his ears, but you want to see that color over his cheeks. So, you put your lips against his cheeks, closer to his ears.
“Of course I want to see you naked,” you whisper at him, and he immediately pulls away, the color bleeding into the rest of his face.
He holds his hands in front of his face, shielding it from your view. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he stammers, taking a small step back.
You can’t help but think how adorable he looks this flustered, but you stop teasing him, as the rain makes you feel cold, and you imagine he starts feeling the same. Taking his hand once again, you step closer to him and let your forehead rest against his chest.
Almost immediately, despite his embarrassment, his arm winds up against you, his face hot against the skin on your neck. Your other hand comes up to stroke through the wet strands of his hair, now closer to a darker blue when soaked like this.
You don’t know who starts it, but you both begin to slightly rock, a small dance under the rain, interlocked, heart against heart, listening to a tune only you both could hear.
“Let’s go home…” you whisper against his skin, feeling the goosebumps over it.
A sigh on your own skin, and he straightens up, his gaze wandering over your face, filled with something complex, something that warms you despite the cold seeping into your clothes.
Once he nods, you both are on your way again, heading towards the closest apartment of one of you. It doesn’t take long, and you’re glad to be out of the rain, because the moment you enter your home, the rain picks up, the wind sweeping over the streets. You really don’t want to know how it feels to be there.
Soaking wet, you begin to strip yourself of your shoes and socks. “I’m going to take a shower to warm up,” you tell him, and without words he just follows you on your heels.
It’s a burdensome task to get rid of the wet clothes sticking to your skin, but you manage it nonetheless. The heat of the turned on water is already spreading through the air, and you’re almost excited to get under it. With your focus on the upcoming warmth, a squeak of surprise escapes you, when you feel his cold fingers around your waist, his lips against the back of your neck.
You turn your head slightly towards him and kiss the corner of his lips, your fingers intertwining with his, before you fully turn around, your fingers carefully helping him out of his wet clothes, scattering soft kisses here and there over his cold skin. After that, you wordlessly pull him with you to stand under the warm rain of the shower.
For a moment, you let the heat seep into you, relax your muscles, before you grab the shampoo bottle. But instead of slathering it onto your own hair, you motion for him to lean down. Once he does, you put a good portion of the shampoo into his hair, and begin to massage it in, spreading it over his scalp and hair. You watch as he closes his eyes, leaning closer to you.
After you’re thoroughly done, you let him lean his head under the water once again, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair with soft strokes, your hands taking care of each strand, massaging his scalp. Once everything is truly gone, you grab one of your conditioners to take a bit of into your hands, spreading them over your palms before you begin to rub it into the ends of his hair.
A low hum sounds from him and he shuffles a little closer, his hands finding your waist, as always, keeping them there to anchor himself.
Allowing the conditioner to set, you grab his loofa, the one he has deposited ages ago, making himself at home in your home, sharing it with you. Making sure the foam has spread properly all over it, you begin to gently scrub his skin, his shoulders, his arms. You can’t help yourself but scatter some kisses here and there, on his jaw, on his neck.
Coming up to his chest, your eyes lock onto the tiny mole there. “Did you know, some people say that moles are an indication of where our past love has kissed us, over and over again,” you whisper against his skin before kissing the mole softly. “I will love you, for all of my lifetimes, over and over again… And I want to give you something to remember this one, and every one after…”
You’re vaguely aware that you have met Rafayel in your last lifes. And even if your memory is hazy, pieces coming up to you in blurry dreams, you know that you have loved him, and you will continue to love him, for as long as time allows you to exist.
You look up to him, his eyes wide, glazy with swirling emotions. Instead of saying anything, he leans down and catches your lips with his in something sweet, filled with love, of the past, present and future. You melt into his touch, into his warmth, into his steady presence. There isn’t another place you would love to be more than at his side.
For a moment, you let your thoughts focus on him, on the way he calls your name, on the way his ears blush when flustered, on the way he teases you with so much affection.
One last peck, and you continue with your endeavor, gently scrubbing his skin, massaging the tension out of his muscles.
After you make sure that he’s relaxed and clean, you once again guide him towards the water, letting the water glide over his body, warmth seeping into him and relaxing him a bit more. You gently grab his hair and massage all the conditioner away, until all that’s left are his pretty strands of hair.
Your lips meet his forehead, before you turn to take care of your own hair. But before you could even grab the bottle, he does, a bit of the liquid on his palms to slather onto your hair.
With the amount of knowledge he has on you, on your routine and day to day life, he manages to perfectly take care of your hair, his fingers carefully moving on your scalp, caressing the tension there out of your head.
A sigh escapes your lips and this time you’re the one stretching closer towards him, arms around his waist.
Rafayel rinses your hair carefully, each strand flowing through his fingers, and you enjoy each touch of his. Especially when he swipes your hair away to reveal your neck, placing a soft kiss there.
Despite being done, you both stay like this for a moment, his face against your shoulder, your fingers drawing random symbols on his skin, intertwined, skin to skin, warmth to warmth.
Just when you notice your fingers getting prune, do you turn off the water, reaching for the towels to dry up. You pass him his own, and watch as he dabs the water away, before wrapping it around his waist. You begin to feel a little bit warmer when he reaches up to swipe his hair away from his face, running his fingers through the strands, making them stick like that.
You turn around to take care of yourself and leave the bathroom to step into the bedroom, one supposedly belonging to you, yet filled with his trinkets and clothes. You step around some paint brushes clustered on the ground and grab a shirt and other clothes.
Once you put them on, you notice how the shirt belongs to him, something he has left behind after one of his escapades from the journalists. You don’t take it off though, rather you turn towards him as he pulls his pants on, a soft piece of clothing, perfect to sleep in.
His eyes glance up to you, getting stuck on his shirt on you, and you smile as you watch the redness bleeding into his ears, into his cheeks.
He crosses his arms, looking away. “So, you’re now also stealing my clothes now?”
You raise your eyebrows at this. “Uhm, what else have I stolen from you, Rafayel?” you ask, well aware that everything scattered around your place is due to him bringing it over. You can’t say you don’t love seeing his stuff around your place, though. It makes it more livelier, happier.
At your words, he turns around and begins prancing towards you, and you take a step back, your shins hitting the edge of the bed. He leans closer to your face, his eyes running over your face, admiring every single feature of yours, almost like his eyes have landed on an artwork.
You suddenly feel shy under his gaze, so you try to lean back, but when you try to do so, you end up falling onto the bed, sitting on the edge of it.
Instead of letting up, Rafayel puts both his hands on the side of your thighs, supporting himself on the bed to follow you.
“How dare you forget. You have stolen my heart, over and over again,” he whispers against your lips, before dipping in and taking a taste of your lips once again.
A small laugh of yours is drowned by his lips, as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him with you onto the bed. Drops of water fall onto your face from his wet hair, yet you don’t care at all. All that matters is him, Rafayel in your arms and his lips on yours.
With a puff of air, he lands on you, and as the kiss breaks apart for a moment, you take your time to admire his face, the soft lips, his translucent eyes, almost glowing every time he catches your gaze. He doesn’t give you much time, though, before he kisses you again, and again, each kiss making your heart thump with excitement, with all those emotions he manages to awaken in you.
And you’re happy to be the one waking up by his side, spending every lifetime as the person he loves. To be the person who loves him truly in every life.
You can’t help but shudder when his lips move over your jaw to your throat, when he softly murmurs against your skin.
“Let me drown in you…”
#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#rafayel x mc#qi yu x reader#qi yu x you#qi yu x y/n#qi yu x mc#rafayel love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x reader
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When You Know
Art Credits: Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova
•┈୨A Soap One-Shot୧┈•
♡Summary: You and Soap take one final trip together in a last ditch effort to rekindle your crumbling relationship.
♡Tags: sfw, Angst, 3.5k words.
♡A/N: This soap fic has been in my drafts for god knows how long but here it is! The song I mainly listened to while writing this was ‘Margaret’ by Lana Del Rey! Apologies for those who might have been waiting for this fic my last few months have been out the ass busy, I’ve recently moved along with getting sick as well but hopefully I’ll get to writing more :3
•┈୨♡୧┈•
The car hummed as Johnny continued the drive down the seemingly never ending road the occasional thumps from his finger tapping at the wheel. The same sound that’s been repetivte throughout the entire dreadful drive. Another huff fell from your lips as the sound slowly began to aggravate you once more.
He muffled a groan spilling another sorry you scoffed lightly, “Is that what you said to the girl you’ve been texting about not being able to meet up?” you muttered flipping through the magazine you picked up at the last pit stop. The reminders of the stupid texts you accidentally read when coming across his phone plaguing your mind. It meant nothing to him you knew it didn’t for him, but it did to her.
“Christ y/n how many times have I said it was nothing like that,” he rebutted his own annoyance growing. “Yeah I’m sure every girl trying to be friends constantly bombards you with an ensue of constant compliments, gifts, texts and calls.” You exclaimed sarcastically staring harshly at the magazine despite never actually looking at it.
“She said she didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Yeah and I’m sure she feels the exact same about that statement.”
“Y/n-” he cut himself off letting out a deep sigh, “look I love you and only you I would never in my life run off with some other woman I barely know?!?” he responded glancing over at you briefly.
“I know,” you grumbled.
He smiled a bit towards the end, you rolled your eyes at the words as they hardly softened any worries you had. Your eyes fell on to the road making eye contact with deer in the middle of the road you barely managed to scream out the warnings.
“Oh my god deer, a deer?!” You yelled out throwing your hands up, the magazine flying out your hands as you pointed at the road. His head snapped forward narrowly swerving out the way of the deer before slamming on the breaks.
You exhaled exasperated hands firm on the dash as the seatbelt clung onto you, thankful for once about his adamant complaining about buckling up.
“Told ya seat belt.”
“Fuckin’ hell just watch the road,” you sighed leaning back in the seat face in your palms a deep sigh following after your motions. He chuckled slightly as you both gathered yourselves before he started driving again.
His fingers pulled at a cigarette from the pack. A quick flick to his lighter before placing the lit cigarette between his lips. He didn’t used to smoke before, you wondered when he started doing that but you stopped knowing a lot of the things about him. It made you think of all the things you were missing like the new wrinkle between his brows that was starting to form.
One that only appeared when you argued. It filled you bits of sadness as it seemed you two could never argue but now it seemed all you two could ever do. Thoughts of the days when us meant something, maybe that’s why he dragged you on this god forsaken trip. Some way it was a plead, an ask to try again before there was no fix for what was left of a deteriorating relationship. Of course you loved him probably more than yourself at this point, the man you knew like the back of your hand. You were sitting in the same car but it felt like you couldn’t be further apart.
“Fuckin hell,” you yelled out as the tent collapsed once more on you. You were already tired from the long drive but now this tent was going every which way but the right damn way. Johnny set off to the side in his chair simply watching the situation unfold with his feet propped up, a few snickers coming from his direction every now and then. You insisted you could do it yourself still upset from the conversation ealier. You tossed down one of the small pipes in frustration crouching down to your knees as you sigh in defeat.
You took a few breaths calming down a bit before looking back up at the mess of a tent you had long loss the instructions to, and not enough service to Google the manual. You glared over at Johnny as he smirked a bit, you groaned knowing he more then likely knew the instructions by heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if the man memorized them just so you’d be forced to ask for his help. You rubbed your face with your hands another sigh following before standing upright hesitantly making your way over to him.
“Help me,” you muttered folding your arms as you glanced around standing infront of him.
“Sorry what?”
“Can you help me?” You spoke slightly louder through gritted teeth.
“I can’t really hear you love?” He spoke with his same shit eating grin he had as he watched you struggle the past thirty damn minutes.
“I said can you help me, please,” you mustered out an annoyed please as his grin grew wide.
“Oh of course honey why didn’t you just say so!” He cooed, his amused tone far from hidden as he waltzed over to the chaos you had going on.
You sat down in his seat watching him leaning your head in your hand as he slowly pieced the tent together properly. He was muttering some silly jokes, probably teasing as he began hammering some stakes into the ground. Your eyes flicked over him playing the conversation in the car over in your head. You wanted to get over it but it was stuck in your head like some parasite.
You’d feel worse for not saying anything but even worse for saying something at all.
Surely he’ll be tired of hearing the same issue over and over again? What if he’d grown tired of you in general? Your eyes followed his moments as he continued building the tent, he briefly glanced over at you pausing as he stood up right. He dusted his hands off on his pants walking over and bending down in front of you.
He stared at you for a moment watching your flickering expressions, “baby what’s wrong?” He asked with a slight laugh in his voice but mostly of concern as he grabbed one of your hands rubbing the back of it with his thumb. His soft reassuring smile nearly already had you crying as you sniffled. You shrugged wiping the stray tear as he left out a sigh kissing the palm of your hand, “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.” He whispered softly folding your hand in his as he waited for your response, patiently as always.
“It’s nothing I swear,” you muttered curtly staring down at your hands. You briefly looked up at him and he looked obviously upset, your heart immediately sunk regretting every word you had spoken. Surely he’s upset now, if you had just happily accepted his help he wouldn’t be upset. You should’ve just kept quiet about it to begin with.
“If you want me to leave tell me,” he sounded broken like he was at his wits ends of what to do, what more would make you happy. “Tell me to anything ‘n I’ll do it, tell me to go or apologize give me a list…please.”
“Just tell me whatever you wish and I’ll do it.”
You shook your heading shrugging unsure what to say, “I don’t know.” Your eyes focused on his as you wondered why you were so angry with him. Why were you upset? When any problematic situation arose the only common denominator you could find was you and yet he still asked if he had done something wrong.
“Baby I can’t help you if you don’t tell me anything,” his voice was soft his hand reaching to cup your face. He nodded, gently pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry for being mean,” you spoke head resting against his chest.
“I wasn’t angry with you I was angry with myself, You were just the outlet I took it out on,” you added on as his hands raked through your hair.
“I know love, I know,” the words almost made you sob he was being so patient and you had nothing to say or give for it.
“I just thought one day you’d change your mind about loving me like I tricked you into it or something,” you chuckled lightly eyes watering as you began emptying all the thoughts.
“You’re too good, it’s more than I’ll ever deserve.”
It felt terrible as if it had been wrong to feel this way. He was as perfect as any man could get and here you were finding issue after issue. His face looked shocked and heartbroken at the revelation, “you’re so friendly open you could probably have any woman you want with no problem. A better woman.”
“But I already have the one I want,” he softly replied with a reassuring tone. “I know you love me and I love you too, I just can’t help this terrible persistent feeling I’d lose it one day, lose you.” You trailed off the beating of his heart echoing in your ears companied by the sounds of his breathing.
“Just ask me then,” he spoke abruptly. “If I have to say I love you a hundred times for you to feel better I’ll do it, all you have to do is ask.” He kissed at the top of your head as you wiped at your tears nodding appreciatively.
“I missed you love.”
“I missed you too.”
The rest of the trip felt absolutely amazing, you’d never have considered enjoying nature as much as you do now. The tall trees lining every direction you looked. The unkempt grass with wild flowers and weeds mixed it. It was truly stunning no matter where you chose to look. None of it felt real, the view was simply stunning.
“I see why you dragged me out here now,” you laughed looking towards Johnny’s direction as he walked beside you.
“Yeah despite all your complaints about how ‘I’m not doing anything that requires more than the bare minimum,’ if I recall that correctly?” He spoke with a smug tone raising an eyebrow.
“Okay well to be fair the campsite you originally showed me looked like shit.”
“Have you never heard of a surprise?”
“No I haven’t,” you replied sarcastically turing your nose upward and he let out a laugh pinching one of your cheeks. “Stubborn as always,” he muttered as he continued down the trail.
You looked over him admiring him for a moment. “Thank you,” you spoke suddenly as he turned around understandably confused.
“For what?”
“For being with me, just for everything really,” you smiled softly as he immediately pulled you into a tight hug. He pulled away feeling your forehead, “well you aren’t sick thought someone might’ve taken over your body for a second.” He stared you down suspiciously as you giggled.
“Oh absolutely, I’m an ailen and I shall taken you back to my people on Mars!” You exclaimed as he looked at you in shock.
“Ah I knew it was too good to be true!”
You probably missed this more than anything, the small moments with him. That made you feel like a mischievous child being with him and feeling like this made it all worth it. Worth any deal of pain if it meant a moments like this. They always say it’s the little things right?
But this moment wasn’t little it was damn dear the most important event in your life up to now as Johnny knelt down on one knee. A ring-box in hand your birthstone reflecting the moonlight with a light sparkle. You felt stupid falling for his dumb trick of pointing out something in the sky that wasn’t even there. Of course you looked back confused ready to bombard him with questions but there he was on one knee.
You felt a mixture of emotions wash over you all at once, you were already crying and he hadn’t even started speaking yet. Your hands moving rapidly wiping at your never ending tears. This was more than enough proof you’d ever need. What would there be to debate when the ring would be a light in the darkness to guide you.
“I didn’t fall in love you at first sight, I fell in the with you the moment you told me I was worth it. Worth the pain, the sorrow but also the joy, the laughter and for the love. You were the one who built me back up even when I couldn’t do it myself so will you give me the greatest honor and privilege to marry you and spend the rest of our lives together?”
Maybe it was then under the moonlight and stars that you knew, knew by the tone in his voice from the stumble in his step to the light that lit up his face as he knelt on one knee. That no fight or argument would be enough to take that away. Not your love and not his because you just knew how much you love and would love him for the rest of your life.
“Com’n now lass my knees ain’t what they used to be,” a laughter echoed from you through shining tears of joy that told him of your love. A love he hoped to see in the messes of chaos your future children would leave. Like the breath of fresh air in the cold night to the crackle of the fire. Glimmer of the moonlight in his bright eyes that spoke of a million ways how he could love you just right, in a soft whisper you spoke, “Yes I will.”
“Good thing you said yes.”
“Why?”
“Cause that uppercut from the ground would’ve knocked you on yer ass.”
“Is it too late to say no?”
“Yes Miss MacTavish it is you’re stuck with me till death do us part,” a childish laugh escaped from him as he threw an arm around you tugging you into a hug. Despite the amount of times the man had hugged you it felt just like the first time after your first date a nice blissful comfort, as if you just knew he was the one.
The hug was only seconds yet felt as if it was the first time someone truly hugged you, wanted you and you alone. Despite the darkening night sky you still held onto his hand subconsciously not wanting him to leave yet. You smiled at him hesitantly releasing his hand taking a step back, “so..” You trailed fiddling with your hands as you glanced over his eyes.
“Let me buy you a drink?” He spoke softly returning the smile as you nodded excitedly, “absolutely!” And like that one date turned into dozens before you knew it he was moving in.
He huffed from beside you drawing you out of your thoughts as he stood up in-front of you his hand outstretched towards you. “Would you like to dance?” you looked at him confused staring at his hand before back up at him.
“I don’t know how to dance?”
“I can teach you.”
“There’s no music?”
“Then we’ll sing.”
He always had an answer whenever you were in doubt. If he had said you could concur the world you’d whole heartedly believe him. He spoke with passion and emotion you hadn’t felt before that showed he meant every word. He’s always believe in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. But that’s just who Johnny is, optimistic to a point you’d almost call him stupid for it. The world needed more people like him, gentle and kind with a warmth that made everything feel okay.
As if it would always be okay.
He insisted on dancing under the midnight sky his eyes reflecting a brightness only the angels get to gleam. You would’ve felt embarrassed from your terrible skills but he was just as awful as you possibly even worse. You couldn’t help the laughter as you teased him for his idea when he couldn’t even dance himself.
His arm outstretched to spin you around before taking you in his arms aiming for a dip but he trampled on his own feet tumbling you both right over. He flopped right onto you as the laughter only grew. His laughing died down as he stared at your smiling face as you giggled.
“What?” you asked out of breath.
He is what beauty feels like, pure unfiltered beauty and it’s exactly what he calls you beautiful. He’d say it with every ounce of his being without a hindrance of dismay.
“God damn you’re so beautiful,” he kissed at the top of your nose with that childish smile of his.
“I love you too Johnny.”
It had been a few weeks since the trip. You hummed mindlessly preparing your usual pick-me-up box for Johnny. You’d been excited for weeks to send it as you held the positive pregnancy test in your hand. It took everything in you not to spill the beans but held out waiting a few weeks to be sure it was still positive.
You wondered who the baby would resemble, though you already wished they would resemble Johnny. Hoping they would take after him and his kidness take every good thing you two would have to offer and become the best version of either of you. He’ll be a wonderful father that much you knew for sure.
If they are loved what else could possibly matter?
You couldn’t wait for the excited call you’d receive as he would probably insist on coming home immediately to prepare the baby’s room. Even already bought a cute baby crib you two could build together since he’d more than likely insist you’d have to sit it out but just watching him didn’t seem all that bad.
“You’re carrying for two now not just one anymore,” he’d probably say and the thought already had you smiling. You remember off handedly asking him if he’d ever want kids one late night in bed. His face scrunched up in thought before his playful smile grew, “if it’s with you I’d have at least fifteen.”
You snorted punching at his chest, “In your damn dreams Mr. MacTavish, we’ll have maybe two at most and have a nice house by the seaside.” You continued rambling endlessly about the cute family you two would have someday as he simply smiled and hummed in agreement at every word.
The phone rung a bit before your usual call time, almost deciding to ignoring the call seeing the random number but the first few numbers looked familiar. You picked up the phone the familiarity of Price’s voice filled your ears. You smiled instinctively, “Price it’s been awhile!” A light laugh exited from you as he took a deep breath following a pause.
“Is something wrong?” you asked another long pause as he groaned lightly.
When you know, you know like the feelings that reside deep in your gut. The ones you can’t shake no matter how hard. Not when you feeling with ever fiber of your being so much so it consumes you. Not when it fills your veins almost already telling you the truth and you just know.
“I’m sorry but Johnny didn’t make it, he was K.I.A,” you almost asked for him to clarify like he was playing a horribly stupid joke but Price never joked not like this. A strong wave of nausea over came you as you softly spoke gagging at the words you could hardly bare to form.
“My Johnny?”
He stifled a yes before an ensue of apologies and everything people say when someone dies. Someone else not Johnny because he said he’d come home. He promised didn’t he? So why wasn’t he here? Not your Johnny it couldn’t be because he said he’d make it back. Things like this happen to other people they don’t happen to him because he’s good and kind so of course it couldn’t be him, right?
His smile, his voice, even just his presence a feeling you’d never get to feel again. What did you even say to him last? Had it been enough to convey how deeply in love with him you were? Did he know how much you loved him? Your hands shook as you long dropped the phone. Your hands threw the box off the counter the items scattering along the ground.
And you screamed eyes watering as an awful overwhelming feeling of dread washed through you, you didn’t just cry, you wailed. Wailed for him to come back or some form of explanation as to why. Why did it have to be him when it could’ve been anyone else. The grief wasn’t just emotional it was physical like your entire body was responding to the gaping hole left behind by its missing piece.
A piece of you that you’ll never be able to get back.
#minzis suga#cod x reader#cod x y/n#cod x you#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#soap x reader#soap mw2#soap angst#johnny mactavish x reader#cod angst
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Hello everyone!! Today I grow a year older :3 (and I hate it lmao) FEEL FREE TO REPLY BIRTHDAY WISHES IF YOU WANT :3
So, over the time I've come back here, I've become pretty confident and proud of my once hidden passion about sick characters, sickfics and sick comfort/whump... 🌡️
And you all have been so supportive and sweet despite my weirdness so I thank you for that. You helped me feel more confident in my otherwise weird fixation <3 So, for my birthday I thought I'd try and make up a little drawing challenge for anyone who wants to give it a try... There are soo many talented artists on this site (and in this fandom)
So... It's your turn to target your faves now. You will see how fun it is and hopefully understand why I love doing it so much. 😈🌡️
(plus it's my birthday and I require some sustenance LMAO JKJK)
But yeah anyone can join in. This is just for fun though! You don't have to if you don't want to! I think its okay to ask for some food on my birthday though...right?? X'D So if you wanna do sth for my birthday...then... 👉👈 💦
CHALLENGE BELOW~
DRAW YOUR FAVE ON A SICK DAY CHALLENGE🌡️😷🥵🤧
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(Mmmmkay, I am lying to myself when I say this isn't mostly aimed at the RainCode community... X'D Can't help myself. But anyone can join regardless of the fandom!!)
So here's the challenge and the rules!! (featuring my two main lil targets ofc :3)
Regardless of who it is, put your fave through some sickness hell >:3c I'd love to see it! Make em' as miserable as you want!
destroy them 😈 jkjk XD
If you're in the RainCode community you can target anyone, but as you know, my main targets are Yuma and Makoto. If they're also your faves and who you decide to use, that will make me extra happy!
Some tips for anyone new to drawing a sick day scenario art. A few things that make it look convincing are the following:
Pajamas or Loungewear
Messy Bed Hair
Fever flushed face w sweat or at least a red nose
Tired Eye bags
Shivery body
Ice Pack or a Compress on the head
Thermometer sticking from their mouth
LOTS OF BLANKETS
Tissues or medicine surrounding them
Tea or Soup (or both)
Those are just to name some from the top of my head. If you'd like some pointers on how to make a character look ill, check out my Fever Coloring Guide. This is for digital artists but traditional artists can try it too!
You can add injury or angst to the scene but I'd like illness to be the main focus of it.
The scene can be anything you want to, it can be fluffy and wholesome (with a caretaker) it can be angsty, or it can be silly. Its all up to you! Do it for the sake of fluff! Caretaking scenes are the best for any kind of relationship >w<
Either way, have fun with it!! I look forward to see what people make if they decide to give it a try! It doesn't even have to be a full on picture! Doodles and sketches are fine too! Just show me something >w<
(feel free to tag me and say happy b-day and mention my challenge, I am proud to be known for this and would love for many to participate :3) I wanna see you take a go at it :3 Show me your style! :D
~
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(wow look at me misspelling the word writing on text when I did it fine with my own hands lol)
Now, I know not everyone can draw...
Well never fear! I accept writing as well! ✍️✍️✍️
(hi vivia lol sorry for giving you a cold, at least you have an excuse to read and do nothing now haha x3)
Sickfics are one of the biggest things I live for! Any little drabbles or full fics with more than one chapter are welcome! Again target who you want any fandom you want, but I'll def be super happy if you make a RainCode fic. And even happier if you target my faves as well, but again, anything will do! Just make a cute story about your fave being miserable and being tended to! Trust me, it's super fun!
You can add injury or angst to the scene but I'd like illness to be the main focus of it.
Feel free to post your writing here and tag me or mention my AO3!
If you need a start to your fic, look on my blog for illness prompts! Maybe it can help give you a good start or give some inspiration! (thats why I share 'em :3)
I look forward to anything you try to write!
~
That's about all!! I hope you decide to participate! ✨
Good luck, have fun, and godspeed you future whumpers! 😈
(nah jk XD)
AGAIN THIS IS FOR FUN! NO PRRSSURE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO!
#pixeldoodles#my art#art challenge#illness whump#sick whump#whump community#rain code#whumpcode#artists on tumblr#digital artist#fever whump#cold whump#whumpblr#whump ideas#whump scenario#sick art#sickfic#sick day challenge#yuma kokohead#makoto kagutsuchi#vivia twilight#shinigami rain code#IM A LITTLE NERVOUS ABOUT TRYING THIS#but idk it sounded like a fun idea... >w<;#plus it was fun to design the challenge pages#pretty much used the color replacement tool on photoshop to make it all purple LMOA#but yeah if you wanna give it a try I would love to see what you come up with!!#especially from the raincode community... XD#be sure to show me!! >w<#thanks for reading if you did!
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I want a love like the movies- give me a trope/character dynamic from this list, a song (or a specific lyric from a song that you want me to base it off of, or even a poem, anything that is seen as art is acceptable here) and a time of day. I’ll use that to write a fic with a minimum of 1k words.
kaz brekker with 29 (from the list) anddddd almost by hozier?? idk first song to pop into my head haha
Love- K.B x gn! reader
okay, this is the last of your requests and it's coming out on my official two year fic-iversary! I posted my first ever fic on maliciousbrekker two years ago to the day, and it's been a wonderfully wild ride in things ever since! No regrets with anything I've done here, honestly!
As for requests generally speaking, the goal is to have at least one more coming out over the weekend! My two year anniversary requests are taking precedent right now because I've been demotivated and haven't posted many of them, but after the two year anniversary requests are done, I'll go through my inbox and decide what I want to write vs what I don't and then I'll proceed and hopefully my requests will be open again by the date in my bio!
The prompt you chose was: reader/writer
Fic type- this is fluff!
Warnings-Kaz is probably a little ooc
"You and your books," Kaz observed as he came into your place. You lived in a flat not too far from the Barrel, one that was simultaneously within walking distance of the Crow Club and the Slat as well as Wylan and Jespers place.
You'd bought it to own it with a portion of your money from the ice court, spruced it up to your liking and saved a room to turn into a library. Bookshelves lined the walls, covered in every book you owned and organized to your preference.
You'd bought a desk for Kaz to use, and within it were countless heist plans, countless letters to Nina, Matthias, and Inej, and even a couple of the journals that Kaz had bought two years before but had only begun using in the weeks after the Ice Court job had been completed.
"I have my books and you have your heists, love," you said, shrugging as Kaz sat at the opposite end of the velvety couch you'd kept in the sitting room. "Everyone has their vices."
"How is it?" Kaz asked. You jabbed at each other for your hobbies occasionally, poked fun and delighted in the sounds of scoffs that eventually turned into barely amused laughter, but in the end, you cared about the other persons hobbies, too.
No matter how much you may have poked fun at Kaz and his love for unlined leatherback journals, for the expensive ink he purchased from a Fabrikator near the heart of the city, you always bought him the ink when you noticed he was running low before he did.
You bought him new leather journals when you saw one that he might've liked in a windowsil and bought him ones engraved as a gift on his birthday or during the holidays.
And, in turn, Kaz did the same. He bought you books from the authors you loved whenever he'd heard that a new one was releasing, took your most beloved books to a book binder when the covers were wearing out and the spines needed re-gluing.
He asked how you liked the books you were reading when he noticed you were reading a different one, bought you the books that your eyes lingered on whenever you'd see something in a bookshop window.
"It's good," you said. "How're the heist plans coming?"
"Decently enough," he responded. "A hundred thousand kruge per person on a seven person crew, if you're in?"
You grinned as you closed your book, looking at the cover for a moment.
"How convenient it is that you ask me to join you on a heist when the book I'm reading involves one."
"Is that your way of saying yes?"
You shot him a look, and he nodded. "Yeah. It's your way of saying yes."
You watched him stand, heading for your office, a pen, and one of his journals.
"Love you!" You called after him. You heard Kaz's amused laughter in response and smiled to yourself.
He didn't need to say it back for you to know he loved you in turn. If anything, he'd likely be the one to turn down the lamps and blow out the low-burning candles when he was done planning the heist he'd asked you in on.
He'd be the one to find you with a book in your lap, having told yourself "just one more chapter" even as your eyes were drooping and sleep was on its way
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Rainbow Sprinkles
A short, and hopefully cute and fluffy little fic for the very lovely, and beautiful @penguinsandpotterheads Happy Birthday Holly, I hope you have an amazing day, bestie!!!! <3
Word Count:923
Masterlist Eddie Munson Masterlist
You make your way into your home after a busy day at work just ready to sink into the arms of your boyfriend, perhaps order some take-out and watch a shitty movie that would ultimately end up getting ignored in favour of making out with said boyfriend, but as you tread into the home you shared with Eddie you come to realise those plans had been thrown out of the window.
Because there he is. In the kitchen, his hair bundled up on top of his head, with a few loose curls framing his, and a white apron tied around his body smeared with many different stains.
You step quietly into the kitchen, trying not to draw attention to yourself.
“What’re you up to there?” you say, making your way over to him.
You watch as he jumps at the sound of your voice.
“You’re home early!” he babbles, looking over your shoulder at the clock on the wall.
“Yeah, they let me go early since it’s my birthday, which was nice of them.” you explain.
“Yeah I suppose that is nice of them, I just hadn’t expected you to be home so soon.”
“You never answered my question.” you pry curiously.
“Hm?”
“What are you up to?” you ask again as your eyes come to scan over the mess that litters the kitchen counter. There’s cracked eggs shells, an open bag of flour that is somehow dusting more of the counter than there is in the bowl which you gather that he intended it for. The large mixing bowl is filled with what looks like a deep, rich chocolate mixture.
“Oh that.” he chuckles. “I was kind of hoping to bake you a cake as a surprise but I quickly realised that I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
"No no, I think it looks alright." you say, as you mix the wooden spoon around in the mixture.
"Wayne gave me the recipe, so if it sucks it's totally his fault and not mine" he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Well let's get it in the oven, and see what happens! Then we can decorate it together!" You smile, placing a kiss on your boyfriend's face.
You reach on to the counter to set the timer, whilst Eddie pours the cake mixture in a round baking tin and places it in the oven.
"I'm just going to set a timer for thirty minutes" You tell him.
"There's a lot you can do in thirty minutes." Eddie says suggestively, raising his eyebrows up.
You playfully slap him on his arm as you tug him away from the mess in the kitchen.
"Keep it in your pants until later, Loverboy." you flirtatiously chastise him.
“But it’s your birthday!”
Sure enough the timer in the kitchen dings, and you pull yourself away from Eddie’s hold as he places sweet kisses to your neck.
As it turns out, snuggling on the couch, which turned into an inevitable makeout session you always knew it would, was an excellent way to spend your birthday.
“Come on Teddy! The cake’s ready to come out of the oven!” you cheer as you tug him up from the seat with you, and practically skip to the kitchen.
“Here, let me get it out, I am the one with the apron after all.” he smirks, reaching for a dish towel.
He opens up the oven door, the smell of delicious, warm chocolate wafts out as he brings the cake out and places it on the countertop.
“Not to be too cocky, but I reckon I’ve got this baking thing down to a fine art, Sweetheart.” he smiles, marvelling down at the perfectly risen sponge in the tin.
“Okay, Julia Child, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” You tease him lightly, which earns you an adorable giggle from your boyfriend.
“Now we just have to wait for it to cool down and then we can start decorating it!” Eddie cheers.
Eddie smears a thick layer of gooey, fudgy, chocolate frosting over the now cooled cake whilst you stand by with a tub of brightly coloured sprinkles in hand ready to scatter on top.
“She’s all yours, have at it, Picasso.” Eddie smiles as he stands back to allow you to recklessly sprinkle your cake with the decoration.
You finish decorating the cake, taking a step back to marvel at your creation.
“I think we make a good team, between your baking and my flair for abstract decorations.”
“Yeah, we do. We make an excellent team.” Eddie agrees, pulling you into him with a one-armed side hug and a kiss pressed into the crown of your head.
“Y’know, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my birthday.” You say as you snuggle against him, a slice of your cake on your plate and a fork in hand.
“Hm?” Eddie mumbles around a mouthful of cake, his own slice sitting on his plate, almost gone from him demolishing it as quickly as it had been served up.
“Yeah, just being here and spending time with you, has made me the happiest birthday girl in the world!” you beam, as you snuggle deeper into his warmth.
Eddie smiles, he’s so warmed by your admission, and his smile only grows when he thinks about the surprise party he’s organised for you this weekend. All your closest friends and loved ones, there just to celebrate you, and have a good time.
“I love you so much, Sweetheart.”
“I love you too, Teddy.”
#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson x reader fluff#Eddie Munson Fluff#eddie munson fic#Eddie Munson fanfic#Eddie Munson x fem!reader
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take the long way home - part 2
series masterlist
Pairing: Marcus Pike x afab reader
Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, one night stand, cursing, reader is a mess, Marcus is Marcus.
Word Count: 1k
Series Summary: Classic story, right? You meet a handsome man, let him take you home, and plan to never see him again. Of course, these things rarely go to plan.
A/N: To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates or see taglist details on my masterlist.
Marcus feels sick.
The moment he see's you in that meeting room, his new employee, he feels quesy with it. You...the person who had come in to his life one evening and left it without a word the next morning. He had thought about seeing you again, too many times to count...but hell, not like this.
Definitely not like this.
When he had woken up that morning to find you already gone from his bed, from his home and from his life his first feeling had been quite reasonably one of disappointment. Marcus hated waking up alone, no one to talk to, no one to kiss good morning - in the past he had even chased relationships just to not be alone. After a breakup he would wake unfulfilled and lonely in bed, unable to shake the feeling for weeks. After Teresa it had been worse.
Maybe he was naive but he had assumed you would at least let him make you breakfast, after what you had let him do the previous night. But you hadn’t left even a note, not your number pinned to his fridge or a ‘thanks for the memories’. Not even a quick cup of coffee and a kiss on the cheek. Had it been too much to expect? Was he just not well versed on the one night stand anymore? Maybe he really was just still making mistakes over and over again…just like before.
Now he thinks back to that night. Before you’d gotten home - before you’d gotten in to his bed. You’d mentioned a new life - a new job and a fresh start - in that hopeful but melancholy tone that had drawn him to you in the first place. God, he had never thought for a moment the job could be here. In his department. Working with him. Maybe he should’ve asked more but then there hadn’t been much talking after the bar.
So Marcus stands in that meeting room shell shocked and feeling sick. Not just that…he feels anxious and unsure and he doesn’t even think there is protocol in the HR documents for this kind of thing.
He stays silent for just a beat too long and someone in the room clears their throat. He’s just standing there barely through the doorway, staring at the new hire.
The prettiest new hire he could've ever imagined.
Damn he was screwed.
****
You give him a smile, hopefully something professional and not something that says ‘oh god oh god I slept with my boss’.
"Nice to meet you, Agent Pike" You say confidently, saving him from his freeze as you stand up to shake his hand. If you can just keep everything professional you’ll be fine, right? It was one night and it didn’t mean a thing, right?
The contact of his hand on yours sends a spark of memory right through to your brain and you have to blink sharply to stop seeing that same hand disappearing beneath the hem of your dress not that long ago.
"You alright, boss?" One of the others, Michael you think, says to him.
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Busy morning, just trying to catch my thoughts before we go over this case" Marcus clears his throat and finally moves to sit down at the head of the table.
"So..." he takes one more moment, a breath, before pulling some papers from a binder.
There’s a syndicate of art forgers operating out of Chicago. Marcus talks the team through it as you try so, so hard to listen and not think about the things your mind is apparently determined to make you think on. This is your new job and your new life; you can't screw it up just because you screwed the wrong person.
Not again.
You want to think about work. You’ve uprooted your whole life to be someone new, someone better. But how the hell can you be that when your boss is a man with huge brown eyes and a soulful stare and a kiss that could stop time?
Somewhere in the distance you hear someone saying your name, but you're pretty damn lost in whatever the hell is happening in your mind.
"Huh?" You say, and see eight expectant faces staring back at you.
"Did you want to...can you introduce yourself to the team?" Marcus is speaking, of course it's his voice.
His voice had moaned your name just a few short weeks ago. If it wouldn’t look completely nuts you’d slap yourself just to get that damn thought out of your head.
"Oh. Yeah. Of course” You mumbled, trying to get your thoughts back on track. You sit up straighter and try for that air of confidence.
“I just transferred from New York - Organized Crime division - going for a bit of a change after…” After I got my heart broken by my partner… “After closing off one of the biggest cases. I needed something uh, different”
Not a lie, although not the whole truth. You’d worked with your partner for years and you’d loved them for years and then they’d met someone else. Just like that. After the case you’d been chasing for years was finally put to an end you’d had to get out of there and never see them again. But your new team didn’t need to know that. Your new boss definitely didn’t need to know that.
You look at the team. All of them pleasant, all of them welcoming. But all you feel is this pit of dread in your stomach. You don’t look at Marcus. After a few questions about your work, and an introduction to the others' roles they’re leaving the room before you even realize the meeting has ended.
And just like that it's you and Marcus in the room together.
You clasp your hands together and stand awkwardly from your chair. You should look at him but god you don't want to look at him. How could you have let this happen, why did you have to go home with him that night? Why did you have to keep making these stupid decisions?
"So...new job huh?" Marcus finally breaks the silence with a weak voice and you look over at him, steeling yourself. You will not be taken in by those warm brown eyes, you will not.
"Yeah. New job" You start, not sure what exactly to say
“We should probably talk-“ He begins but you cut him off with a shake of your head.
"Look…Blank slate? Lets just- We’ll pretend we’ve never met before. It was only one night, it’s not like we know each other”
Perhaps in your dream world, you’d like this to be different. He’s handsome and kind and you had really enjoyed your night with him. But this is the real world, and life isn’t a goddamn fairytale where you can make eyes at your boss without consequence.
“This job is really important for me. It's really, really important I don't screw it up" You explain and look at him with pleading eyes. Marcus looks disappointed? Upset? You're not sure. You don't like his expression.
"Blank slate, yeah, that's fair. I wouldn't want to start you off on the wrong foot here…. It was just the one night. Right" Marcus's voice is a little quiet, like he's not sure he believes those words as he looks at you - you feel like his eyes are searching yours for something. You try very hard to not give him anything to find.
“Well…" He finally gets up, saying your name as he opens the door for you.
“Welcome to the team. It’s nice to meet you”
#Marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x you#pedro pascal character fiction#Pedro pascal character fanfic#pedrostories#take the long way home#series#Gideon writes
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Ask; Hello, I read you have your request open, and I really like how you write about Erik. So, if you feel in the mood, I like some scenario (GN or AFAB) in which y/n starts to work ato Opera House like an skilled effect artist and one night, when y/n finally has some time free and alone, Erik found her playing something like ROxxanne tango with the cello, because she play it but only for herself.
Tags; Fluff, GN reader (you and yours),
A/N; Hey, I’ve been silent for a while and I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t motivated to post any fics and was in writers block. Now I need to focus on my health because a serious health concern has come up for me, so I apologize for continuing to be radio silent. I’m a little out of it while I’m writing this so I’m sorry, Please injoy this fic, it will most likely be the last for a while. (You may continue sending asks just be warned I might not be able to get to it for a couple of reasons.)
With a heavy sigh you put aside your art peice, a stage mask that just wasn’t holding up to your standards. You’ve painted over your dried paint and wiped it off to many times to count already. Your hands had become shaky long ago as you sit at your desk that was in an obscure corner of the Opera house.
You push your chair back that gave a screech and sluggishly walked back to your small room in the Opera house. Thankfully it looks like none of your roommates are in the room which means you can properly relax and wind down. Most importantly in your mind, it means you can practice your cello without disturbing anyone.
Quickly you set up your space, adjusting your chair, setting up your music stand, making sure your bow has enough rosin. Flipping to your favorite cello peice you take a breath and start playing. Letting your fingers and how move on the strings fluently, you we’re getting entranced by your cello. Unknown to you, you weren’t the only one being entranced.
Somewhere deep in the Opera house, the Phantom can hear your playing faintly thanks to the echoing of the monumental walls. Intrigued, Erik quietly yet softly made his way to you until he could hear you clearly. Leaning against a wall he let his eyes shut and get wrapping up in your music, loving where you crescendoed and adding your own flare.
When you got to the end of the piece and pause your playing to find another to play, he finally peeked a look at you. He thought you would’ve been apart if the orchestra, but he didn’t recognize you, it also looked your your cello while well kept, was quite old to. Erik became very fascinated by you now, he started by “testing” you. Slipping new and harder pieces for you to try, and if you did play them he’d be happily surprised with how well you make the notes come to life.
Next, after you passed his “test”, he worked hard to see if he can find you a proper newer cello. Only the best for his new found talent, that day by day he was slowly falling for. The more he became infatuated with you he got more determined to find a cello to match your one of a kind soul.
After a while he did find a very good cello, a one of a kind, just for you. So, Erik made quick work to insure it’s yours. He personally polished and cleaned it, making sure no scratches were on the instrument. While you were working hard at your props job for the play, he made diligent work to set up the present in your new room. That of course was also a present from him. How could he let his musical muse share a room with a bunch of strangers?
Leaning the cello against the bedside table he placed a rose and a note next to it. Despite watching you for so long and being so devoted to you, he never got to the courage to say anything to you. Hopefully the grand presents will be a good first impression.
Groggily you walk back to your room, only to be told you don’t sleep there any more. Which after the long day you had of making props wasn’t good for your anxiety. As you followed the directions to your new room, you think about how you could’ve gotten on the bad side of someone to get an even more run down place to sleep in than what you have already had.
All of those thoughts quickly got washed away when you opened the door to your new room. It had everything you needed to live alone, a small kitchen/living room, a nice bedroom with a decent sized closet, even a space to practice your cello. You were so stunned at what you did to deserve this new room that you didn’t question how everything you own was already there.
Quickly, your eyes caught the sight of the luxurious cello next to your new bed. Gently you caressed it, looking over all of the fine details, it looked like a masterpiece that was specifically catered to you. The red rose next to the cello caught your eye next, along with the letter that had a skull stamp.
Carefully opening the letter you scanned the words, a mixture of your emotions sitting in your stomach as you read.
“My dear, I have heard you playing for a while now, and I must say the way you make the notes come to life is hauntingly stunning. You have caught my interest in the best way.
I know you haven’t seen me or heard me before, which is why I hope your new room and house warming gifts are a good first impression. If you wish, I can also arrange a seat for you in the opera’s orchestra so you don’t have to continue working in the messy arts department.
P.S. If it’s not to much to ask, I would like to hear back from you, so please consider us to be pen pals now. Also, if you ever need a quiet place to practice you can always come to my lair to whine down, maybe that way we can play music together.
~Yours devotedly O.G.”
A single thought ran through your mind as a mixture of unease and swooning butterflies ran through you…
What have you gotten yourself into?
#erik destler#erik poto#phantom of the opera#erik destler x reader#erik x reader#phantom x reader#phantom Drabble#phantom of the opera x reader
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