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fieldofdaisiies · 5 months

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Midnight Queen

"If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."

And he did. He kept his distance. That night, that night months ago, he left. He stayed away from her. From Elain.

He left the House of Wind. And he sought out a pleasure hall. He downed a drink. And then he walked down one of the narrow corridors, velvet tapestry on either side, towards a more private room at the very back of the pleasure hall. Primal noises, moans and screams reached him on his way there, the scents of arousal mingling in the air around him, making him grimace. But he ignored it all, his anger and frustration getting the best of him.

Azriel had followed Rhysand’s suggestion - fed up with all the happy couples in his life, and their constant display of joy and love. He couldn't stay moment longer in the House of Wind.

He had to leave. But not for the sake of fucking. He didn't come to the pleasure hall to fuck, only to watch. To distract himself. And it is all he's done ever since.

He only comes here to watch. And only to watch you.

Until tonight. Tonight is different. Tonight he needs. He craves. He is a hungry male, and he seeks to devour. To still his hunger. He wants to savour. You.

The glass, half-full with amber liquor, is tipped to his plump lips, while his gaze, like heated honey, is trained on you, following your every move. Just like his shadows, perched on both his shoulders and the little stage you dance upon, watching your every move closely, twin flames burning in his eyes that devour you, slowly undress you.

You're on my mind Been there all night I've been missing seeing my midnight queen Come have a drinkOr maybe three And Darling I'll make you my next victim It's been too long to spend this night alone I need to hear the sweet sound of your moans Come have a ride, baby don't be so shy I prefer girls who're not afraid to cry

His eyes are on your curves and how you put them in action. Each sway of your hips, each spin, each twirl, Azriel‘s eyes follow, leaving heat in every place they touch. You feel it, feel how your heart beat quickens, how his eyes undress and devour you. He is a hungry male and you a ready to serve.

But you make him wait, it is a game you are playing and you are not done yet. Hunter and prey…

Since his first visit a few months ago, Solstice Eve, he has only ever come to see you dance. And you like it. Enjoy it. His attention, the silent desire brewing beneath his tan and in tattoos covered skin, and flickering brightly in those hazel eyes that could easily undress females with just one look at them…

You spin and meet his gaze, a feline grin gracing your red-coloured lips. You blow him a kiss and watch how his eyes sparkle, twin flames of lust burning in them. His arousal, the scent so musky, of night chilled mist and cedar, reaches you and you inhale deeply, revelling in it. Damp heat slicks between your thighs, but you remind yourself that he is just another customer, just another male watching you. He should not have this effect on you. You should not want him that much…

You roll your hips, your belly nearly touching the pole, hands curling tighter around it.

Azriel‘s mind wanders, he imagines how those hands curl around his shaft, your mouth —those plump red lips— fastened around the crown of his cock.

Your head whips to him, almost like you can read his filthy thoughts. And when your eyes meet his, you know what you want. You want him fully unleashed, see what this powerful male is capable of. You bend over, crouch down, always making sure he focuses on the part of your body you want him to.

Straightening up, you begin to dance anew.

The room is hazy, dimly lit — arousal making the air feel thick, and foggy. You glide over the small stage with effortless allure. Grabbing the pole, swirling around it, moving away and always coming back. All your movements seem like a symphony of grace, syncing flawlessly with the soft pulse of the music that surrounds him.

You never break eye-contact with him. Not even when you move of the stage, each step accentuated by the sway of your round hips. A thin piece of lace fabric covers your most private areas, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. Your soft skin is almost fully exposed to both Azriel and the slightly chilly air. But you don’t feel cold. You feel hot all over. You are burning for this male. The male with the wings and shadows and stunning, cruel beauty etched upon his face. He is a sin to look at and more than once have you imagined yourself on the ground, between his thighs, looking up at him through your lashes. Damp heat pools between your thighs and you know he can scent it - and you want him to.

Your body moves like silk in the muted glow. As you move closer, you keep your gaze locked with his, a silent promise lingering in the air.

This night will be different, you know it. This night will not end here. But in your bed.

I choose you to fill my void, yeah I speak my voice and I choose you to fill the void

Your fingertips brush his shoulder, nothing but corded muscles beneath the fabric of his black shirt, as you move around him, a hypnotic dance in sync with the soft pulse of the music — a delicate tease with every sway of your hips, every little touch. He is a gone male, you have him fully wrapped around your finger, so much that also his shadows move in sync with the music and the sway of your hips.

With your last swirl around him coming to an end you pause, halting between his strong thighs, so very inviting to sit down, to ride. But not yet.

With tantalising precision, you guide his hands to follow the contours of your body, his rough calluses scraping against your soft skin. The room fades into insignificance, there is only you on Azriel‘s mind, the feel of your soft skin beneath his hands. He wants to touch, feel, explore, grab, squeeze and knead.

But for now, he caresses.

The chemistry between your souls and the shared desire, so acute and palpable, creates an intimate bubble - no one but Azriel and you matter anymore.

Your scent is intoxicating and Azriel wants to taste you, lick and suckle, drink you in. He has been waiting so long for this moment, anticipation nearly makes him lose control.

The soft brush of your skin against his is enchanting and he is lost, a goner. You own him. He is fully at your mercy, cock straining almost painfully behind his trousers.

You guide his hands higher, his palms brushing over your hard nipples and sending a shockwave of sensation right to your core. Your knees threaten to buckle when his broad hands close over your breasts, kneading them gently, and you use this as an excuse to claim the spot on his lap.

"Good evening, Azriel." His name, rolling over your lips as a seductive whisper, almost like a sweet little sin, heats his blood — he can’t wait to hear you scream it when you come on his tongue. Around his dick.

"Sit!" His command is nothing but a purr and you follow, like the good girl you are. Your knees are braced on either side of him, caging him, when you lower yourself to sit atop the powerful Illyrian male. Your scents mingle, his shadows, having formerly watched you so intently, now glade over your bare skin, their touch so delicate their strokes leave goosebumps in their wake. His hands land on your waist and he holds you tightly. Almost like he needs to ground himself, holding back from fucking you straight ahead.

The sultry grin once again touches your lips, and you lock your gaze with his, longing for the heat in this endless brown of them.

"You returned," you say, voice hushed and breathy.

His eyes dip to your mouth. "Always." Azriel's tongue pokes out and he licks over his lower lip, slowly dragging it over the skin. "I‘ve never visited anyone else." His finger tips dig into your skin. "Only ever you."

This shouldn’t make you so happy, but it does and your grin widens.

One of his hands lowers, grabbing your hips tightly. A growl, primal and pure, leaves him when you shift atop him. You feel his arousal, pressing into you, desire just as acute as your own.

Leaning in, your damp lips brush his ear, and in a sensual whisper you say, "I was wondering when you would finally put those hands to good use." You kiss the spot below his ear and to your surprise he shudders. His reaction elicits a delighted giggle from you.

But when you lean back, some of the fire in his eyes has vanished, almost like the flames were extinguished — did you the wrong thing?

"My hands—" he starts but does not continue. But he looks down and you follow the direction of his eyes, noticing the scars adorning his hands and parts of his arms.

A feeling, something unknown to you since this moment, blooms inside you and you quickly close the distance between the two of you again, lips nearly meeting his. "Scars or no scars, your hands are beautiful and I can’t even tell you how many times I‘ve thought about them already. On me, all over me." You kiss his jaw. "Inside of me."

His skin tightens and when you meet his gaze again the fire is back, burning brighter than ever before.

"What a coincidence," he purrs, his hot breath fanning your exposed skin, smelling of liquor. "I’ve been imagining your hand wrapped around my cock instead of that pole quite a few times already, as well."

The grin that spreads over his face is wicked, full of sensual promises, and the prospect of a night you will never forget. You are glad the former sadness has disappeared.

"Why did you come here tonight?" Your hot breath fans his neck. It is always the same question - the question you always ask Azriel when he comes to you. Though this time the answer is different. For the first time he comes here for something else.

"To still my insatiable hunger," he rasps. You feel how the muscles in thighs tense, harden, his palms radiating heat through the flimsy piece of lace you are wearing.

A sultry chuckle parts your red-tinted lips. "Hopefully we can appease your hunger then, shadowsinger."

He smiles again, sensual, sultry promises shimmering within his eyes, but he makes no move to kiss you. Or touch you any further. You lean in again, damp lips coasting over his cheek.

"What are you waiting for, Azriel?" His name rolling over your lips in a whisper feels like the sweetest sin to Azriel, it makes a groan erupt from some deep part of his throat, and his skin go taut with desire. Yet, he controls his hunger, his need, having to make something very clear before you commence.

"Your consent," the shadowsinger breathes. "When we fuck, I don’t want you to do this because it is you job. When we fuck, I want you to want this just as much as I do. I want you to—"

You shut him up with a kiss. "I want you. I want this. And I know this is more than my job. I want you because my body screams for you. I need you."

It is all he needs to hear. Azriel leans in. He threads his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His tongue licks over the exposed column of your spine, tasting both the sweet, rose scent of your perfume and the saltiness of your sweat. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he rasps, and nips at your jaw, hand sliding between your thighs, parting them.

You feel light-headed on top of him, his erection pressing into you. "Why did you wait so long then?" Your voice is nothing more than a sensual purr. Your grind against him, your softest parts against his hardest. "Why did you make me wait for so long?"

He sucks in a sharp breath. And then he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Your skin heats up, cheeks burning when your eyes meet his - pupils fully dilated.

"Because it only made me hungrier for you." His lips close over yours, showing you exactly how hungry he is. "I am a starved male and I can’t wait to devour. To ravish you tonight."

You have to hold back from moaning out loud.

His index finger strokes over the lace, the only thing piece of fabric covering your private parts. He groans at the dampness soaking through the fabric, his head already starting to spin. Long, scarred hands slide beneath it, dragging through your wet folds, eliciting a gasp from you.

"For me?" he purrs.

"Yes," you breathe, eyes glazing over, "only you can get me so wet."

At first, the shadowy male is explorative, touching you gently, easing his fingers in an out of you in languid movements, but all of that comes to an end when you bite down on his neck, dragging your teeth over his hot skin. Azriel laughs, almost a little wickedly, and flicks his wrist, plunging his fingers into you from a different angle now. He fucks you hard - fingers spearing into you, thumb rubbing your clit until release shatters through you. You cry out, nails digging into his skin, head falling back. Your knees buckle and your limbs feel tingle, his fingers still inside of you, letting you ride out your high. No male has ever made you feel like that, and he is only using his fingers to do so. If in this composed position, and only with two of his fingers, he can already make you feel like that, and make you come so hard, you won’t even allow yourself to imagine what he will be able to do with his…cock.

He is smug about how easily he made you come - an almost arrogant smile gracing his plump and swollen lips - cocky male! But something about it fuels a fire inside of you. He is skilled and he knows it, and somehow you love it.

He removes his fingers, slowly, and holding your gaze he dips them into his mouth, licking them clean of your juice. A guttural noise rumbles out of him, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you. "Fuck," he breathes and a moment later his hands cradle your face and he kisses you, deep, passionate and hungry.

You roll your hips against him, almost whining when your sensitive core rubs over the bulge in his pants. Your skin prickles, your clit is swollen, core throbbing while your nerves are on fire. You need him fully. You need him inside of you. You need him unleashed.

"More," your breathlessly plead. And you are surprised - it is never you who begs.

Azriel kisses the corner of your mouth, lips lingering. "I wasn’t planning on stopping here."

He hoists you in his strong arms, large wings flaring behind his back, your legs wrapping around Azriel’s waist. With ease he carries you to the large bed, and then tosses you onto it, into the dark, silken sheets. He is towering over your, shoulders squared, wings spread, shadows dancing on his shoulders. "Strip," he orders, but adds, "or do you need help?"

A smirk appears on your lips and he is on you the next second, tearing through the flimsy piece of fabric, bearing you to chilly air and him. "Apologies, I will buy you a new outfit." His lips coast over neck to cleavage, until he reaches your tits. He takes each hardened peak into his mouth, letting his tongue glide over the pebbled skin, closing his lips, suckling, his other hand giving just as much attention to your other breast, kneading gently. The calloused skin is rough against yours and feels phenomenal and terribly arousing. You need him. You need him so much, you simultaneously let the tip of your toes slide beneath the waistband of his pants, and your hand over his crotch. With ease, you flick open the button, and push the trousers down the curve of his ass. His hard cock springs free and leaves you breathless - he is long and thick, a little curved and absolutely beautiful.

Interrupting your shameless staring, he kisses you, tongue parting your lips, teeth clashing, tongues dancing, fighting for dominance neither of you allows the other. Both scarred hands, arms adorned with visible veins, are braced next to your head. He is leaning over you, caging you and you love how he makes you feel - respected in your choices, seen, and not just like an object. That’s why you want him so much. That’s why you need him so much - he is not like other males.

You only break the kiss when you feel something wet on your skin, and lift your head, Azriel’s gaze following your eyes.

A drop of pre-come has fallen onto your belly, right next to your navel. You want to clench your thighs, something low in your belly tightening. The male sucks in a sharp breath, and then an almost animalistic growl parts his lips.

His hot breath fans your throat, canines scratching over your skin. "That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I crave you."

He forces your thighs further apart, shifting on the bed, the broad crown of his cock nestled against your entrance.

"Open up for me, my queen." Queen. You have never been called anything more beautiful. More powerful.

Your hips fall even wider open and he slides into you, sinking into your tender flesh, stretching you out. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this feeling, the feeling of him - no one has ever felt like Azriel. So good. So right.

There is a hint of pain, but you eventually adjust to his size, and moan.

Never ever have you felt so perfectly filled. "Fucking Gods," you moan, fisting the sheets next to you. "Fuck, Azriel, move."

He loves the dominance, the power he has. With a low chuckle, seeing your already blissed out stage, he pulls out until only the tip is in and then rolls his hips against you, plunging deep into you, the muscles in his ass flexing.

"You are such a needy little thing, huh? So greedy for my dick." He is searching your gaze, waiting for a reaction - do you like the slight degradation? Is it too much, due to your job.

But you like it - coming from his lips you like it. You know he doesn't mean it in relation to your job.

You let your hands slide down to his ass, sinking your nails into the flesh, your own hips lifting, back arching.

"How do you want me, my midnight queen?"

You let out a shaky breath, his length slowly sliding into you, letting you feel every proud inch of his erection. "Ha-rd," you stutter. "I want you to take me hard."

He growls in approval and soon sets a relentless tempo, pulling out to the tip and slamming back into you - at a brutal pace his hips snap against yours, pounding and thrusting into you.

The breaths that leave Azriel are ragged and fast, just like your own. Your whimper and moan, cry out in pleasure, meeting each of his thrusts with the roll of your hips.

The sounds of smacking flesh, the groaning of the bed and the bedframe hitting the wall fill the small room. Your back arches, and you lift your legs, curling them around Azriel, heels pressing into his bum. The new angle allows him to fuck you even deeper and it has you writhing and squirming beneath him.

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him and it tells Azriel you are close. And so is he - release already starts to gather in his spin, flecks of black and white sparking in front of his vision.

"You are taking me so well." Azriel captures your lobe between his teeth. "You want to come, don't you?"

You nod, no more talking possible. You are a blissed-out mess beneath him, driven only by desire and lust, your body feeling like jelly.

Azriel clicks his tongue and you are surprised you heard it over the blood rushing in your ears. "Use your words!" There is nothing soft in his voice, nothing gentle - it is a command and you absolutely love his dominance. Because he respects you in his dominance. It is about your pleasure as well. This is about you. This moment is about you. He sees you. Respects you.

"Yes!" you cry out. The dam bursts and release washes over you. You come undone, screaming out in pleasure, and Azriel follows you right over the edge. His thrusts become languid, his hot seed spurting of your walls, filling you. "Take it all," he groans into your ear, hips rolling against yours and you milk him dry. "Let me fill you up nicely. I want my scent to be all over you, stick to your skin for ages."

Your eyes roll back, and you are too delirious to realise that this wonderful moment is already over.

You slump onto the mattress, knees buckling, limps numb, chest rising and falling with deep inhales. Azriel pulls out and then collapses right on top of you.

"No male will ever touch you again, Y/N. You are mine! From now on, until the last day of our immortal life."

~~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

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mncxbe · 9 months

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Omg, How do you think Dazai, Ranpo, and Jouno (if you want you can add some people) react if their S/o is still stuck in the "Crush phase", like subconsciously smiling at them, sometimes forgetting to breathe (is that just me ?), hiding their face, you get the gist :]

Omg this is so sweet I cannot- I made it kinda sappy hihi let's get right into it♡♡♡ also sorry it took so long to post. school is killing me💀

°☆●

Me, blushing? Nah...

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐, 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

cocky bastard (affectionately)

teases you so much about it omg but does find it adorable

"Aww my bella's still flustered around me? Glad I didn't lose my charm"

no bcs if you catch him off guard; like if he sees you look at him with those big doe eyes he will defo get flashbacks of the times you first started going out on dates

he smiles so gently and he's so happy

like don't underestimate the love this man will have for you fr

You were currently sitting at a square table, tucked in the corner of your favourite coffee shop, with your loving boyfriend facing you. He's been listening to you talk about your insufferable colleagues at work for about half an hour.

You knew you were starting to get the facts mixed up in a jumble of incoherent sentences but you couldn't help it; not when Dazai was looking at you with those beautiful, chocolate brown eyes and that smile you loved so much.

And oh, how blissfully aware he was of the effect he had on you. It warmed his heart to see you act so nervous around him, because of him, after all this time...

He never thought the two of you would last. Maybe a couple of weeks or months, yea. But three whole years? And the relationship was still going well? He was the luckiest man of Earth.

"Aww is my pretty girl blushing again?" he cooed as he leaned over the table and pinched your cheek lightly.

"What? No, I'm not..." you whined in protest as you covered your face with one of your hands.

"It's ok bella. I know you'll never resist my charms. Now please go on talking. I love the gossip" he mocked again, but you caught the hint of softness in his voice.

Taking a deep breath in, you resumed your talk, hand subconsciously reaching out across the table for his.

Dazai intertwined his fingers with yours, meeting them mid-way. He listened carefully, sliding his thumb over yours like he did a countless times before- like he'll do until the end of time because he loves you- and he smiled, nodding at your words.

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

cocky bastard part 2

much like Dazai he loves your reactions; it's a gentle reminder that you still love him the same way you did when you became a couple

also teases you a bit but let's be honest, he's probably stuck in the crush phase too

y'all are so giddy all the time really

Lost in deep thought, Ranpo swirled his tongue around a cherry flavoured lollipop; fingers mindlessly tapping against the cushioned couch in a slow rhythm.

"You see. Those people must've been hiding in the warehouses closest to the city. They needed a fast escape route so picking the ones on the shore would've made no sense."

For the past ten minutes Ranpo's been explaining to you how he captured a group of gun dealers, deducing the location of their hideout from a mere stain he found on one of the men's shoes.

As per usual, you listened patiently to all he had to say. Your boyfriend's stories never ceased to fascinate you; he was simply amazing. As you watched him nonchalantly explaining every step of his deduction, his signature grin stretched on his lips; a rosy tint rose to your cheeks.

"And anyway, that's how we narrowed down the possible options for the warehouses. Since the ones on the eastern side were patrolled more often, only the ones in the western side remained as- Hey, you still listening to me?"

His question snapped you out of your trance and you nodded eagerly.

"Yes babe. Sorry. I was just distracted for a moment"

Ranpo didn't fail to notice the way you averted his gaze from his and how your blush grew deeper when he leaned in, placing a finger under your chin to make you face him again.

"Then look at me when I'm talking, sugar. You know I can't stand it when I don't have all your attention."

"Sure Ranpo, sure. Now go on please" you urged him and he couldn't help but smile.

Your boyfriend indulged you, continuing his story from where he was left but his attention now shifted to you. He was speaking mechanically, focusing on your awed expression and trying his best to conceal his pride and joy. Even after all these years of being a couple, you were still so excited and giddy whenever he told you about a case at work.

He remembered your first date, when he accidently rambled on about some murder that happened in your neighbourhood and you stood these smiling, just like you did now, listening to him talk. That's the day he knew you were the one.

When he finally finished talking you clapped your hands, merrily swaying from side to side.

"That was great love. I'm sure I would've never figured it out. You're amazing"

Ranpo chuckled and placed a quick kiss on your lips, causing you to flush again.

"And you're adorable when you blush like that" he said gently, booping your nose.

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐

he's so painfully aware of all your reactions

when your breath hitches when you watch him cook dinner for you? he catches that; when your heart beats slightly faster when the two of you cuddle? he doesn't miss that either

doesn't always want to admit it but he loves it

also doesn't tease you too often about it; he simply doesn't point it out because he knows he still reacts the same to you

congrats, you made his heart melt

Your boyfriend was minding his own business, typing away some reports at the kitchen table when you placed a cup of steaming coffee next to him.

"Here you go sir. A double shot espresso with no milk and no soy sauce." you said playfully, causing Jouno's lips to curl into a smile.

"You're hilarious, you know that?" he mocked as he rose the cup to his lips and took a sip.

And then he heard it: the faint thumping of your heart and your sharp exhale.

"Something wrong, love?" he asked cautiously, placing the cup back on its ceramic plate.

"No just..." you began, blushing furiously "You're really handsome when you work. I mean, you look so focused and all."

Your words came out a mindless babble, causing your boyfriend to smirk.

"Who knew you'd still be so giddy after all this time. You watch me work almost every day"

"Well, you're still as handsome as always so..."

He reached out a hand, motioning you to come closer to him and you closed the distance between you. Jouno swiftly pulled you onto his lap, relishing the way your heart skipped a beat when his arm wrapped around your waist. You were brimming with joy, like a kid in a candy store.

And little did you know that so did Jouno. He didn't want to admit it but he still got flustered when he took notice of the effect he had on you. It was a sweet, gentle reminder that, although your love had matured and changed during the two years you've been together, deep down you still adored him the same way you did at first.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, Jouno went back to typing his report.

"Just stay with me for a while, will you? Tell me if I make any mistakes while writing" he asked in a hushed voice and you nodded in response, adjusting your position on his lap.

'Perfect...' he thought to himself as he placed a kiss on your shoulder. 'This was perfect'

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd headcanons #dazai bsd #ranpo x y/n #bsd ranpo #bsd rampo #ranpo x reader #dazai x reader #jono bsd #jouno fluff #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku #bsd jouno

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d10nyx · 2 months

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TALK TOO MUCH - WELT YANG

ft. welt yang x fem!reader

a/n: was really struggling with this and hate it - want to preface it by saying this is unfinished. it's just a first draft, but people (person) still wanted me to post it, even if i'm not gonna end up fully finishing it :/ the ending is rushed, but it technically does have an end. hope you like it regardless. title from coin song of the same name

cw: 18+ content, welt rambling, hand holding, kissing, just really fluffy smut tbh, welt is a lil subby and shy, age gap, p in v, creampie

word count: 1.4k words

You certainly were a curious thing. Welt had gotten used to those on the Astral Express treating him as their personal encyclopedia, although he hadn't quite expected you to be so adamant to get him to info dump on every little thing once you'd discovered it - not that he didn't like it. He did pride himself on his intelligence, and there were much worse ways to spend his time than having a nice conversation with someone like you, even if you're the only one that can make his heart race when you called him Mr. Yang.

He's not surprised at all when he hears a knock on his door at night. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up and gazes towards the entrance of his room, spotting you slowly opening it, looking all sheepish as you slide your way into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"Ah, good evening. Isn't it a bit late for you to expect me to go on one of my tangents?" He asks, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement.

“Sorry, I just couldn't sleep. I thought maybe you could talk to me about something for a while? If you don't mind, of course.” You say softly, offering him a small smile as you take a step further into his room, hoping he agrees.

"Oh, you want me to start blathering, hm?" He replies, meeting your gaze and smiling in return. He pats the spot on the bed next to him, inviting you over to sit. You offer your thanks as you take a seat, leaning back against the headboard. “Well. If you're seeking a calming influence, then I suppose you've come to the right place."

You smile at his words, tilting your head to look at him as you settle comfortably on the bed. "Your blathering just so happens to be my favorite thing to listen to.”

Welt raises an eyebrow, eyes narrowing slightly as you admit that you really do like listening to him ramble on. You always bring a feeling of warmth in his chest that he has not felt in a long while. Your company is certainly becoming one of his favorite things on the express.

"And here I thought you were just humoring me to keep me from being lonely." He says, but a smile curls the corner of his mouth regardless. "You're in luck, though. I'll chat your ear off for as long as you need me to.”

And so he does. He starts talking about any topics that come to mind, getting lost in his thoughts as he does so. He's not sure how long he's talking for, but you haven't stopped him yet, so he can only hope he isn't bothering you.

“The starskiffs of the Cloud Knights would head to planets that went out of contact to seek information, while the Xianzhou Ten-Lords Commission remains-” Welt trails off as he feels your head loll against his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. The smile hasn't left his face the entire time, but it only grows at the sight of you lying against his shoulders, eyes half-shut. His hand moves to the back of your head to keep you secure, his thumb gently moving back and forth. “I thought you couldn't sleep, dear. Are my words really so boring to you?”

You shake your head softly, peering up at him through your lashes as he speaks. Your expression is soft, lingering on his eyes for a moment before they drop down to his lips, just for a second. “You're not boring. Not at all. You just make me feel comfortable. Relaxed.”

He nods softly, but he's barely focusing on your words. He can hardly stand being this close to you, and it was impossible to ignore the way your gaze settled on his mouth, even if only for a moment. He wanted you so, so badly.

He's about to open his mouth to say something, anything to distract him enough to stop him from doing anything stupid, until you beat him to it. “I want to kiss you. Please, can I?”

The mere thought of it sends his heart pounding so fast it hurts. He's so old, at least, far older than you. You're still so young, so full of life - how could he expect he'd ever have a chance with you?

Welt nods, his eyes closing momentarily. "Please, be gentle. It... it has been a long time." With his words spoken, he brings his lips to meet yours.

Your lips eagerly meet his once your eyes have fluttered shut, greedily taking in everything he's giving you. His lips are just as soft as you'd imagined, pressing firmly against yours. A small noise escapes him when you cup his cheek, drawing him further towards you.

He leans into the kiss, his hands squeezing you tighter. His lips are warm and gentle, his tongue peeking out gently to prod at your lips until you part them, before it carefully slides into your mouth. His free hand trails down your back to your ass, squeezing it lightly as he deepens the kiss once more, tugging you onto his lap.

“Welt…” You murmur between kisses, brushing his bangs back with your free hand as you straddle him, pressing your body against his. Welt. Not Mr. Yang. The sound of that has him smiling into the kiss, tugging you a little closer.

He's still smiling when you pull away from the kiss, the corner of his eyes crinkling as warmth floods his features. Your warm body pressed against his is enough to have him craving more, his heart pounding against his chest.

“I… I want you. Please.” You breathe out, resting your forehead against his, your thumbs grazing his cheekbones. You slowly roll your hips, rubbing yourself against his clothed cock. You can't help but feel a surge of pride as it instantly fills out, causing Welt to let out an almost pained groan.

"Please, my dear..." He starts, his voice soft and tender, but hoarse with arousal. "Do be patient with me, alright? I... I do not want to disappoint you.”

“You couldn't disappoint me. God, I've wanted you for so long. Wasn't it obvious?” You breathe out, lips pressing against his jaw over and over again. His body is now trembling in your hands, your lips sending his senses into overload. His groan deepens, and he lets out the subtlest of moans when your hips roll to grind down on his lap.

"I-I didn't know that at all..." His breathing is short and shallow now, every moment feeling like the first time you've kissed him. "Who would've known that I'd be so popular with you?”

“I'll be careful, okay?” You murmur against the skin of his neck, nipping and licking at the skin as you paw desperately at his clothes, tugging them off until you're both laid bare on his bed. His pale skin is marred with scars, his muscles slightly toned but covered by a soft layer of flesh.

You sink down slowly onto his length, taking him inch by inch. Welt lets out an involuntary gasp, his hips twitching towards you instinctively to try and drive himself further into your wet cunt. His hand reaches out to grab yours, squeezing it tightly as you begin to build a steady rhythm, bouncing up and down on his cock. Your free hand shifts to thread through his hair, yanking gently on the strands.

“I care for you, ah, very deeply, you know?” He said through gritted teeth, his breath coming out in short pants. It had been far too long, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to stave off his orgasm anymore. “I want… I want to make you feel good, too.”

He does his best to ignore the tightening of his stomach, whimpering softly as he feels the coil snap, flooding you with rope after rope of his cum. His free hand presses against your mound, his thumb hastily swiping back and forth over your clit until you're cumming, clenching around his over-sensitive cock until he's gasping your name.

It takes a moment for him to calm down, to catch his breath - but when he does, he's beaming at you, a shimmer in his eyes that he'd long lost returning. “That was perfect, my dear. You're perfect.”

#welt yang x reader #welt yang x you #welt yang smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut

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daydreamtofiction · 19 days

Text

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 12: Mercy

Contents | Part 11 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Ben x Female Reader) Adapting to your new normal comes with some disappointments. But you can always count on your priest to lift your spirits.

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery & desecration, explicit sexual content including oral sex (giving). Readers must be 18+

A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience, I'm so happy to be posting again. I'm not entirely happy with the writing in this chapter, it's definitely not my strongest work so I apologise in advance if anyone notices a drop in quality. I'll be back on top form in the next one (I hope).

This part includes a little nod to Fleabag S2, the original inspiration for this story.

His kiss was like a bruise, an aching reminder of a heady collision. And much like a bruise, you couldn't help but touch it; poking and prodding with fascination at the memory of an impact just beneath your skin.

The evening sun gleamed golden through the cloudy bus window as you rested your elbow against it, running the tips of your fingers across your lips, keeping him close to the surface. You hadn't wanted to leave the church. You weren't sure he wanted you to leave either; the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the wall of that quiet, narrow corridor like he wanted to keep you there forever. And you probably would have let him.

The bus shuddered and jerked over the uneven road, the windows rattling, passengers swaying in a lazy unison. It was all so mundane, so normal and unremarkable, yet somehow these were the places that felt strange now; existing somewhere that didn't hold the weight of your sins.

You almost missed your stop, fumbling to press the bell and staggering down the aisle as the driver came to an abrupt halt. The air outside was cooler, a gentle breeze providing relief from the mid-spring warmth. You thought of rain as you walked home, breathed slow as you pictured it hammering the roads and gathering in murky puddles; angry grey skies and fierce winds that carried the scent of salt and earth.

There were new decorations in the front garden of your mother's house. Small lights lining the path, a bird feeder and ornaments shaped like squirrels and rabbits tucked amongst the flower beds. You ducked to avoid a new hanging basket over the front door, letting yourself inside and checking your reflection in the mirror on the wall as you kicked off your shoes. You leaned in closer, examining yourself for a moment, trying to figure out what it was he found so irresistible about you.

"Is that you, Ellis?" your mother called.

"Yeah it's me," you replied, following her voice into the dining room.

She was sitting at the table surrounded by artificial flowers, plastic leaves and Baby's Breath. Her glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose as she fiddled with a roll of wire, cable ties hanging from her mouth and a pair of scissors in her hand.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Making a wreath f'th front door," she mumbled, the ties still between her teeth.

"You're a few months late..."

"A spring wreath." She rolled her eyes, taking the ties out of her mouth. "There's dinner for you in the kitchen. Didn't realise you wouldn't be back in time."

"Oh, yeah sorry I should've told you I'd be late."

"Work?"

"No, the er... I was at the... church."

She pushed her glasses onto her head, looking up at you with pursed lips.

"What?" you asked with a nervous laugh. "I just... I like helping out there."

"I didn't say anything.," she replied, holding her hands up in surrender. "I don't care what you believe in, as long as you don't get involved in one of those cults. I can't be doing with ending up on the news."

You laughed again - a breathier, more genuine laugh - and sat down beside her, watching as she tucked flowers into loops of wire, arranging them until they looked just right.

"I think he's good for you," she said.

"Who?"

"Your priest friend. He's a good person to have in your life. I think you need it; someone virtuous, moral."

Moral. You thought back to the night in the rectory, the things he'd whispered in your ear as he parted your legs, how his hands seemed most comfortable on your neck. You thought about the scuffs on his knuckles after he punched Alfie in the face for daring to come close to you, his fantasy of you kneeling before him at mass, the 'fuck it' he'd growled before kissing you not even an hour ago.

"And I'm not saying you're not those things," she continued. "But it's just... I suppose it's nice to know you've got a friend who's such a good influence, you know."

"Wow, and suddenly I feel ten years old again," you muttered sarcastically.

She tutted and elbowed you gently, pulling her glasses back down again.

You stood up and made your way into the kitchen where a plate sat alone on the tidy counter. You peeled back the foil on top to reveal a lukewarm dinner, not bothering to heat it up before returning to your seat in the dining room.

"Have you spoken to your estate agent friend yet?" your mother asked as she snipped the stem of an artificial sunflower.

"Mm," you began, trying to speak through a mouthful of food. You swallowed it quickly and continued. "I told you, he works in sales. Big stuff, you know, like multimillion pound stuff. I'd have more luck on Rightmove."

"And have you?"

"Nope. I've been checking constantly. Zoopla too, and On The Market and Prime Location and-"

"Okay, alright, I get the point."

"Are you in a rush to get rid of me or something?"

"What? No, no of course not. I just- I worry. You're my youngest, you know I worry."

"I know." You sighed, pushing your fork around the plate.

"It's funny you haven't found anything though. I'm always seeing signs on places to let, especially near the town centre."

"Oh no, I've found a couple of flats that'd be perfect. I just can't afford them. I mean, you're talking deposit, rent upfront, fees, furnishings... I haven't even managed to pay my phone bill this month, it's going to take me ages to save up."

She let out a long, deflated sigh. "I wish I could help."

"You can help with the phone bill if you want?" you joked.

She chuckled, holding up the half-finished wreath to examine her work.

The next week passed in a bland, monotonous blur. Each day a repetition of the last; go to work, waste the morning scrolling on real estate websites, eat the sandwich your mother packed for you, fix your posture whenever Dawn walked past your office. Then you'd get the bus home, accidentally head butt the hanging basket on your way into the house, eat dinner at the dining table and disappear into your childhood bedroom for the rest of the night.

You were lying beneath your Care Bear bedsheets, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, remembering how you used to pick out patterns in them whenever you couldn't sleep. You loved Friday nights; going to bed knowing you wouldn't have to wake to the blare of an alarm, the buzz of your phone against the bedside table, to know you didn't have to look at any more baby pictures until Monday. No more tiny humans stuffed into wicker baskets, pudgy cheeks and scarily bendy limbs.

Moonlight melted through a gap in the closed curtains, the lilac material swaying gently in the breeze seeping through the open window. You rolled onto your side, the small single bed creaking as you moved, and for a moment you found your mind wandering to the bed you'd left behind at Gina's house; wondered if they'd ever slept together beneath your sheets.

No one had been there when you went to collect your belongings, but still your father stood watch like a bouncer as you slogged box after box down the stairs. It was all in storage now. Everything you owned sitting in your father's garage, biding its time, waiting for a place to belong. Much like you; tucked away, collecting dust.

You reached for your phone, squinting as the screen came to life in the dark. You opened a new message and began to type before deleting it, then typing, then deleting, then typing. The cursor blinked as you stared at the blank text bubble, like it was waiting for you, ticking like a clock or the tapping of an impatient foot.

So what exactly do priests text about? you finally wrote, pressing send and putting the phone face down on the nightstand.

There was a buzz soon after. You grabbed it immediately.

I see you finally paid your bill, the message read.

You smiled.

How did you know it was me? you sent.

Educated guess.

You began to type, but you paused when you saw he was typing too. Then he stopped, then kept writing, then stopped again. You wondered what he was so hesitant to say, what thought he couldn't find the words for.

Do you need any help at church this weekend? you wrote.

Ok now I'm not so sure this is actually Ellis..

Hey, I'm just trying to get back in the Lord's good books.

Were you ever in his good books to start with?

You giggled, fingers absentmindedly finding your lips and running softly back and forth over them, searching for an ache, the tingle of a kiss that was beginning to fade.

A breeze carried the faint sound of music across the church grounds, the evening sun still bright and warm as you walked across the plush grass. Your hands were planted firmly on your backside, holding down the bottom of your summer dress as the wind tried to lift it.

There was a signboard outside the entrance to the function hall: Parish Singles Mixer This Way. You held back the urge to laugh, taking a moment to compose yourself before walking inside where June's eyes immediately trailed the length of you.

"Hello," you said awkwardly.

"It started at seven, you know," she said, glancing down at her watch.

"What time is it now?"

"Half past."

"Oh. Sorry. Well I suppose it could be worse; at least I'm sober." You breathed out a laugh.

June's face remained sullen. You cleared your throat.

"I'll just... see you inside," you said.

You walked past her and stopped in the doorway, pressing your lips together as you took in the sight of the decorated hall, the round tables covered with paper tablecloths and sprinklings of shiny confetti.

Music played from a large speaker at the back of the room. A church volunteer named Keith was sat beside it with a laptop, like a DJ who'd forgotten his equipment. Men and women filled the space, dressed in their best shirts and loveliest dresses with name tags on their chests. Some talked in pairs, others gathered in large same-sex groups like nervous teenagers.

You didn't realise your mouth had opened, gawping slightly at the wonderfully pitiful scene before you. You'd never been to a single's night before, but you were certain they weren't supposed to look like this.

You turned to a table beside you where a stack of blank name tags and a box of markers sat neatly. You took one and wrote your name, sticking it to your left breast with a crude slap.

"This started half an hour ago, you know." Father Benedict's voice was like silk in your ear, so smooth you didn't even flinch at his sudden appearance behind you.

You turned and looked up at him. "You religious folk are weirdly concerned with punctuality."

He smiled, eyes flitting down to your chest then back up to your face. "Why've you put a name tag on?"

"Isn't that what they're there for?"

"Yes, for the singles."

"I'm single..."

There was a long silence. You watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, eyes closing with a slow blink and a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth.

"Catholic singles," he said.

"Ah, so that's why it feels like a high school prom in here." You paused. "Actually no, it doesn't. People got so drunk at my prom they were throwing up outside, and I know of at least four girls who got fingered in the toilets."

"Were you one of them?"

You hit him hard on the arm. He chuckled, pulling at the white collar around his neck, his gaze staying on you for slightly too long.

It was like you'd been holding tension in your joints all week and they'd finally loosened in his presence. Like his desire was a salve that provided relief, a lingering stare that could soothe any ache.

"Hi, by the way," he said.

"Hi."

"I wasn't sure you'd actually show."

"Are you joking? And miss this inevitable disaster?"

He smiled. "I'll have you know I held one of these events at my last parish and it was a huge success."

"Oh, you fingered someone in the toilets?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You got fingered...?"

"Stop saying fingered," he whispered, holding back a laugh.

"Sorry." You lowered your gaze apologetically, before looking back up at him with a slight smirk.

His chest expanded with a slow, deep inhale, his eyes fixed on yours, switching focus from left to right as though searching for something behind them. Eventually he cleared his throat, straightening his posture and slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"I need to get this mixer actually mixing," he said. "Would you mind manning the drinks table for a bit?"

You nodded with a quiet laugh. "Sure."

He wandered off through the hall, stopping to talk with people, shaking hands and breaking ice. It was captivating to watch someone navigate a crowd with such ease; to charm even the most shy people out of their shells and have them willingly follow.

The drinks table was a sad affair; a stack of plastic cups and two pitchers of lukewarm, watered down juice. You pulled up a chair and sat down behind it, scanning the room, your gaze falling on a couple who seemed to be hitting it off. She laughed at something he said, reached out and touched his arm. He ran a hand through his hair, the blush of his cheeks so pink you could see it from across the room.

"Excuse me, would you mind if I got myself a drink?"

You looked up to see a man pointing to the cups. You shook your head and gestured for him to go ahead. He was wearing a bowtie, the sleeves of his shirt slightly too short for his long arms as he reached for one of the pitchers. He appeared around your age, but his sheepish demeanour made him seem younger. You narrowed your eyes to read his name tag - Abel - you laughed.

He shifted uncomfortably. "D-did I do something funny?"

"No, sorry." You waved your hand. "It's just... Abel. My brother's name is Cain. Y'know, Cain and Abel."

"Ah." His laugh was laced with relief. "He's not here is he? I'd have to run and hide."

"Oh no, he's dead."

There was an awkward silence, his eyes widening as he struggled to find an appropriate response.

"Oh, you were making a bible joke," you said. "Sorry, I just got it."

He relaxed again, exhaling a weak laugh and taking a large chug of juice.

You glanced over at Father Benedict as he tried desperately to introduce people to one another, your eyes trailing down to his backside.

"So are you a volunteer or a... single?" asked Abel, snapping you out of your lecherous daze.

You shrugged. "Both, I suppose."

"Oh, cool." He hovered at the table for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing."

"By the looks of it, no one does."

He laughed. "It's a bit embarrassing really, isn't it; needing a special event just to meet someone."

"Church people, they're a picky bunch."

He laughed again, more heartily this time.

"Hi guys," said Father Benedict as he approached the table, ducking down to count the bottles of juice near your feet. "How's your evening going?"

"It's alright," said Abel, gesturing towards you with a smile. "Better now I've met Ellis here."

You smiled back politely.

Father Benedict straightened to his full height, hand finding the back of your chair with a tight grip as he looked down at you. "Oh really?"

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, surprised to find flecks of jealousy in the lines of his face.

"That's nice," he said, back teeth pressed firmly together. "But I actually need to borrow you for a second if that's alright?"

You turned back to Abel. "Sorry."

"Oh, yeah no it's- no problem. We can chat in a bit."

You nodded, watching as he wandered off awkwardly through the crowd.

"What's up?" you asked, turning your attention back to Father Benedict.

"Could you refill these jugs?" He lifted a large bottle of cordial onto the table. "What's that about?"

"What's what about?"

"Him."

"Oh, his name's Abel. He seems nice."

"No, I know who he is, he works at the school. I meant what were you doing talking to him?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you jealous, Father?"

He glanced over his shoulder at him, then back to you. "Nah, he's not my type."

You scoffed quietly and stood up, wrapping your fingers around the bottle lid and attempting to turn it. It was tight, stiff, making the palm of your hand ache as you tried to force it open.

"I think he's nervous," you said. "Says something when I'm the most approachable person here."

"Or maybe he just fancies you," he replied, taking the bottle from you and opening it with an easy twist.

"Maybe." You paused. "Would that bother you? If he did?"

He pressed the tip of his tongue to his top lip, the corner of his mouth curling with a slight smile.

"I can't control who fancies you, Ellis. I just hope you remember the promise you made..."

"No one touches me unless they're worthy?"

"That's the one."

"Including you?"

He looked down at you, throat bobbing with a slow swallow. "Including me."

"So... That kiss last week..."

"Oh, that wasn't because I think I'm worthy. That was because I have no self control."

You exhaled a laugh through your nose. "How's your self control doing tonight?"

"It's hanging on... By a thread."

"It's the dress, isn't it."

He bowed his head, chuckling quietly as he walked away.

And as quickly as it had dissipated, the tension returned again. But this time it wasn't in your joints. It was in your chest, your core, in the swelling heat between your legs. You licked your lips and sat back down.

Abel was talking but you couldn't hear a word, chewing on the rim of your plastic cup as you stared past him, eyes fixed on your priest and the woman he'd been chatting to for far too long.

"Ellis?"

"Hm?"

"I asked you a question," Abel laughed.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked when your last relationship was."

"Oh, er, it was recent."

He nodded with interest. "How recent?"

"Like... recent recent. He cheated on me, it was a whole thing."

"Oh, wow, I-I'm sorry to hear that."

The night had crept up slowly, darkness turning the windows to glossy, black mirrors as the coloured lights inside the hall glittered against them. The atmosphere had relaxed; the room buzzing with joy and laughter as connections formed and inhibitions melted away. You wondered how many weddings would come from this evening, how many love stories you'd witnessed the birth of.

The woman reached out, brushing something off Father Benedict's shoulder, smiling and continuing to talk as though touching him was the most natural thing in the world. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"Ellis? You've disappeared again," Abel laughed.

"Sorry. Sorry, I- I'll just be a minute, I have to..." you trailed off, standing up before he could even respond and walking quickly across the hall.

You tapped Father Benedict on the shoulder and the woman stopped talking, turning her head slowly to look at you.

"Sorry for interrupting," you said.

"No need to apologise," he replied, placing a hand on your back as though he'd forgotten where he was. "Ellis, this is Meg, she just passed her training to become a lay minister."

"Oh, congratulations," you said.

She gave a wry smile.

"Meg, Ellis is a... friend of the church."

"Acquaintance, really," you said. "Friend is a bit strong."

He rolled his eyes, prodding his fingers firmly into your back.

"It's nice to meet you, Ellis," she said.

You nodded before turning to look up at Father Benedict. "I was just wondering if you wanted me to go around and clean up the empty cups?"

"That'd be great."

You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment before conceding and walking away, listening to Meg talk again, as though you'd never interrupted them.

The bin bag was making your palm sweat, the shiny, black plastic sticking to your leg whenever you moved. You groaned and kicked it away again, reaching for a collection of used cups rimmed with lipstick. You threw them in the bag and moved to the next table, catching the eye of a man who flashed you a hopeful smile. You smiled back politely and kept walking, peeling the name tag from your chest, crumpling it in your fist and throwing it away.

You threw another few cups in the bag and peered over at the spot where Father Benedict and Meg had been standing, but instead of the tall, dark priest, a young woman stood in his place. You furrowed your brow, scanning the room for him. He was gone.

You felt something cold on your foot, looking down to find a quickening stream of juice dripping from the bag. You swore under your breath, grimacing as you marched it at arm's length out of the hall and into a small, quiet stock room. You shoved the bag into a bin in the corner and grabbed a roll of tissue, unravelling more than you needed and bending down to wipe away the sweet, sticky mess trickling down the side of your shoe.

The door opened suddenly, making you jump in fright, losing your balance and falling back onto the floor. Father Benedict's deep, throaty laugh thrummed into the quiet space. He made his way over to you and reached out his hand.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You blew out a breath and took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. "The bag split."

"Ugh, are you alright?"

"I think I'll survive."

He took a step back towards the door, leaning against the frame as he listened to the muffled noise seeping out of the hall.

"Tonight's going well, don't you think?" he said proudly.

"Mhm, I see at least one person's getting fingered in the toilets," you replied sarcastically.

His brows came together over confused eyes. He thought for a moment, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you.

"Wh- Meg?"

"Yeah, you seemed to really be hitting it off in there."

He pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to grin. "She's moving to my old parish next month, wants me to recommend her to the minister there. That's all."

"Oh. Good luck to her."

"Now who's the jealous one," he teased.

You rummaged through a cupboard near the bin, pulling out a roll of fresh bags. He cocked his head as he watched you, analysing you.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You blew out a puff of air, lifting a stray lock of hair out of your face. "Well, considering I'm a grown woman who lives with her mum, my capacity for 'okay' only stretches so far."

"Fair enough," he laughed. "And you haven't had any more trouble from what's-his-face, have you?"

"No, I think he's scared of me since you gave him that nose job."

He covered his eyes with his hand, dragging it slowly down his face. "I still can't believe I did that. I don't know what got into me-"

"It's okay. I found it quite sexy."

"Why am I not the least bit surprised?"

You smiled, bowing your head as you tried to tear a bag from the roll.

"Here," he said as he walked over to you.

You watched his hands as they gripped the plastic, ripping it apart with a forceful pull. He handed a bag to you and tossed the rest aside.

"Thanks," you said, clearing your throat as you looked up at him.

The last time you were this close, he had just kissed you; his breath ragged, eyes burning with a heat you could feel beneath your skin. You'd spent every moment since wondering what might have happened if you'd stayed, if that single thread of self control had torn under the weight of his desire.

He swallowed, eyes flitting down to your lips, and in that moment you knew he'd been wondering the exact same thing. You shivered as his hand settled tentatively on your hip, your breath shaking as his fingertips moved to graze your thigh beneath the hem of your dress.

"You took your name tag off" he said quietly.

"Yeah," you replied, barely whispering. "You were right, I shouldn't have been wearing it."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't come for the mixer..."

"Then why did you come?" He shifted closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face, the tickle of his touch travelling further beneath your dress.

You could feel goosebumps puckering down your arms, desire blooming deep in your core. You welcomed his caress, leaning into it, granting him access to your body like a gift. You gazed up at him with heavy lids, breaths turning shallow as he leaned forward, bringing his lips inches from yours.

"Why?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble in the base of his throat.

"Probably the same reason you keep inviting me back," you whispered.

Your lips met in a slow, heavy kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth without any hesitation. You sighed against him, eyes closing, losing yourself in a taste you'd come to crave. It didn't matter that beyond the door was a hall full of people, that if anyone saw you it would mean the end; not just for him, but for you too. In this moment, all you cared about was the feeling of his hands on your skin, the groan that escaped him when you gently sucked on his bottom lip.

"Hi June, I'm looking for Ellis," Abel's voice echoed from the foyer. "About this tall, she's wearing a dress with flowers on?"

You pulled apart quickly, foreheads resting against each other.

"Fucking hell," you hissed.

"Another holy intervention," Father Benedict muttered.

"No, just a man in a bow tie," you sighed.

You were crouched behind the drinks table. Partly because you had to pack everything away, but mostly because you were hiding.

Abel was nice. Funny, well-intentioned, handsome if not slightly gawky. And maybe in another world, you could have given him a chance; gone for coffee, held hands as he walked you home, kissed goodnight on the doorstep. But in this world, there was a priest.

You peered over the table, watching as the singles sat in groups around the room, cards stuck to their foreheads and pens in their hands. Abel was sat amongst them, playing opposite a shy, giggly woman, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears. You smiled and sank back down behind the table, breathing out a sigh of relief before packing up the last few cups into a large cardboard box.

You walked out of the hall and down the path towards the church, the box obscuring your view as you lugged it in your arms. The night air was cool, the breeze carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass through the air. You'd always preferred the colder months, but there was something about the air when spring turned to summer - the way it smelled, how it sat on the skin like a gentle embrace - that always reminded you to breathe, to fill your lungs to the brim and savour the feeling.

You pushed through the side door of the church with your hip, letting it swing closed behind you as you stepped inside. You walked down the quiet corridor, the air still close and suffocating from the day's heat, and with a tired huff, you dumped the box on the floor inside Father Benedict's office.

"Father?" you called out, met with nothing but silence.

You couldn't help but wander down to the chapel, the dark, echoey space so still and serene that even your exhales felt out of place. You paused to bask in the solitude; the smells you'd come to find comfort in, the feel of the carpet beneath the soles of your shoes. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath, when a sudden shiver rolled down your back at the sound of footsteps behind you.

You turned around, eyes settling on a tall, dark frame emerging from the corridor. He stopped just beyond the threshold, standing with his hands in his pockets, the flash of white around his neck still visible even in the dim light.

"I couldn't remember where you said to put the stuff so I threw it in your office," you said.

"Threw it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If you want the job done well, pay me."

He chuckled before looking around at the empty pews, the darkness beyond the stained glass windows. You watched as he made his way to the altar, walking leisurely, hands still in his pockets. He turned on his heels to face you, gesturing with his head for you to come to him.

You didn't question it, doing as he instructed like an obedient servant, following orders without a single word. Your heart began to race as you stood before him, the fluttering in your chest mirrored by a rippling deep in your stomach the moment your eyes met.

"Kneel," he said calmly.

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the church.

"It's just us," he said.

"And him..." you replied, nodding to the statue of Christ behind him.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't concede. You swallowed hard, lowering yourself slowly to your knees, ignoring the burn of the rough carpet against your skin.

You reached up, each action careful and considerate, like you feared you'd startle him back to sense if you made any sudden movements. He kept his eyes on you, gazing down as your fingers found the buttons of his trousers, releasing each one with a gentle pop. He placed a hand on your face, thumb pressing to your bottom lip and dragging it down to reveal your tongue. You stuck it out willingly, watching shadows form in the angles of his face as he pushed it into your mouth. His eyelids fluttered slightly as you sucked on it, and you held back the urge to smile.

You parted his fly and slipped your hand beneath the fabric of his underwear, gripping the base of his cock and releasing it eagerly. He was hard, rigid and pulsing with even the lightest graze of your fingers, but he remained calm, unwavering in his composure, only the slight quiver of his breath giving him away. This was his fantasy - he'd already told you - and you'd wanted so desperately to make it come true.

You flattened your tongue and dragged it up the underside of his length, drawing a deep groan from his throat as he moved his hand back to the side of your face. You'd never much cared for giving blow jobs; finding them boring, awkward, an unsexy act that left you with an aching jaw and numb lips. But the arousal pooling between your legs was undeniable, the tingle of your hardening nipples making you shudder with excitement. You slid him into your mouth, sinking halfway before pulling back and glancing up at him, seeking approval, wanting to be led.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, letting his head fall back as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, wrapping your fingers around it before taking it back into your mouth. You moved at a steady pace, drawing him deeper each time until you were struggling to breathe. He took your hair in fistfuls, guiding you gently, his rich moans pouring over you like warm, sweet honey.

You felt a hard prod at the back of your throat, the sensation making you gag, choking back a cough as you pushed his hips back to catch your breath. He buckled at the sound, swearing under his breath as he struggled to stay upright. He liked it; the sound of you gagging, the rush of thick saliva coating his cock.

You reached up and took both of his wrists, moving his grip to the back of your head before dropping your hands behind your back. He groaned in delicious realisation, the silent permission to use your mouth unlocking a forcefulness that took you by surprise.

His fingers tangled in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. You held your breath as he sank deep, pulling back and repeating the action with a quiet growl. You fought the urge to move your hands and take back control, keeping your fingers clasped tightly behind your back, trusting him not to push you too far.

Your eyes were watering, nose running, spit escaping from the corners of your mouth. You were certain it was the most unattractive you'd ever looked, yet there was a thrill in letting go; the veneer of uncertainty shattering with every snap of his hips.

A string of incoherent whispers spilled out of him as he came, cock throbbing against your tongue and coating your throat with his rapture. You gasped when he slid out of your mouth, as if he'd been holding your head below water and had finally brought you up for air.

He cupped your face, staring down at you in awe. You wiped your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you gazed up at him, your breathing still rapid and uneven, swollen lips parted in awe of his beauty. He tucked himself back into his trousers, not bothering to button them before kneeling with you and running his thumbs under your eyes, swiping at the smudges of tears and mascara that had pooled there. You reached up instinctively to hold his forearms, balancing yourself, as he continued to wipe away the mess he'd created, his movements so gentle and considered it was hard to believe he was capable of anything other than tenderness.

"Stay with me tonight," he said softly.

You nodded, unsure how you would ever be able to leave him again.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @veryladyqueen @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

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salty-ironstrange-shipper · 4 days

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Hi. I saw this post asking for a fic that changed one's brain chemistry. Now there are a lot of fics I like; over 2000 bookmarked on ao3. And a lot of fics I love; I have 400+ of those fics tagged 'fave'. Of those 400, there are only around two dozen I would say legitimately changed me as a person. 1% changed the way I saw relationships and the world, changed the way I read and write. And I couldn't narrow it down to one - or ten - and didn't want to dump in OP's tags. So have this list of fics that permanently changed who I am as a person.

Warning: I love long fics, and some of these are the same specific tropes that I love or that really affect me personally (ex. arranged marriage). Expect angst, and especially angst with a happy ending. That said these fics are all objectively amazing.

(sorry to people who don't like long fics, but we are simply not the same. and that's OK.)

listed in order of fandom, then length.

Banshee In A Well - 43k, complete, DC, Tim Drake. Childhood trauma, childhood trauma, came back wrong/can't stop coming back! Tim is a little FREAK and I luv him.

straight on 'til morning - 102k, complete, DC, timkon/Kon-El. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly.

variations on a theme - 5k, complete, MCU, ironstrange. This is one of the fics that made me truly love ironstrange. Stephen sees through millions of possibilities and in doing so, falls in love with Tony. Evocative, beautiful, succinct.

The Art of Losing - 33k, complete, Red White and Royal Blue, firstprince. This fic made me cry. This fic BROKE MY HEART. And I WENT BACK TO IT. Multiple times! This is a breakup fic that breaks you down then puts you back together. You will come out different, and only you can say if it's for the worse or the better.

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) - 65k, complete, Red White and Royal Blue, firstprince. There are so many firstprince fics that essentially translate the events of the book into a different setting. And I love all of them. (My own fic, then fucking have me, also does this, self plug self plug self plug). I had to narrow this selection down to just one, and this is probably my absolute favorite.

You Don't Have To (Say Yes) - 192k, complete, Star Trek, spirk/Jim Kirk. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly (yeah, again).

THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS - 262k, complete, Star Trek, spirk. Star Trek arranged marriage epistolary fic. I read this 4 years ago, and I STILL think of a line from this fic constantly (we're aligned, we're aligned, we're aligned). If you don't read anything else for the rest of your life, read this.

DON'T THE WAVES PULL THE SAND? DON'T THE MOON PULL THE TIDES? - 58k, complete, Star Wars, finnpoe. I don't even go here. And yet. And yet. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly (yeah, AGAIN).

Not Part of the Plan - SERIES, 8 works, 337k, complete. Supernatural, destiel. This is an arranged marriage fic au series, that started with a oneshot pwp, and somehow grew into a sprawling, world and character building EPIC. And that to me is always a marker of quality. You KNOW it's good if the author couldn't stop themselves.

wander your own land - 379k, incomplete, Yellowjackets, shaunajackie and others. I told you I like long fics. Girl survival situationships, cannibalism, jealousy, cabin fever, hallucinations, trying to keep a fucking baby alive in some of the worst possible circumstances.

Infinite Variations of a Summer Day - 76k, complete, X-Men, Pietro Maximoff. I love Pietro, he is one of my favorite characters of all time, and this is such a great character fic. See Pietro slowly driven insane in a time loop that examines his relationships with himself, his team, his family, and his powers.

drop your own recs in the notes. and if you have any suggestions for griddlehark/the locked tomb, pLEA- *gunshots*

#fandom #fanfiction #fic recs #incorrect-ironstrange #tim drake #timkon #kon el #conner kent #ironstrange #firstprince #spirk #finnpoe #destiel #yellowjackets #shaunajackie #pietro maximoff

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infinitywrites · 9 months

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I Didn't Expect You Part 4 ~ Conrad Fisher

(Part 3) (Masterlist) (Part 5)

gif credit @laurens-german

synopsis: Y/N never expected it to be the summer that everything changed. Conrad, Belly and Steven were all dealing with the consequences of recent break ups while Jeremiah's wasn't acting like himself. Susannah was undergoing treatment that provided unpredictable health results and kept her loved ones on the edge of tragedy. Had they drained the well of the magic of Cousin's beach? Or could something new fulfil it again?

warnings: multichapter slow burn, warnings will update with every chapter, timeline is both POST S2 and a retelling of S2 with changes, everyone swears A LOT, 4th of July party, ANGST between Jeremiah/Conrad, ANGST between Conrad/Y/N, Nicole (sorry to this Queen), Conrad's friend Danny (made him into my own thing), hints of Belly/Jeremiah, I don't know shit about sports

word count: 4,141

___________________________________________

I feel like no one wants me

And I hate the way I'm perceived

I only have two real friends

'Cause I love people I don't like

All I did was try my best

Ego crush is so severe

God, it's brutal out here

Got a broken ego, broken heart

I decided I needed sustenance before heading into the lion's den and popped a bacon wrapped scallop in my mouth. Nicole sidled up next to me in no time, refilling her plate.

"Someone's got game." Her voice was low, unassuming and her eyes were focused on the desserts when I looked at her.

I almost spit out my margarita, "You're kidding, right?"

She giggled, "Nuh uh. I got to watch you in action twice now. Danny was eating out of the palm of your hand and even Cam looked weak."

"OhmiGod, Cam is Belly's ex!"

Nicole shrugged, "Okay, fair but I don't blame you for Danny cause he's definitely been working out." Our eyeline shifted to where he was laughing with Jeremiah and Steven.

"He's at school for a baseball scholarship, of course he works out." Her look of unabashed thirst would never not amuse me.

"Fuck, that's so hot." She looked like she was about to swallow her tongue.

Without another word Nicole walked off in his direction and I smiled as I watched her get her flirt game on and trail her fingers up his bicep. My mind drifted back to the house as I downed the last of my margarita before I headed inside to poke the bear.

He was in the kitchen, drinking from a dark liquor bottle when I walked in. His sullen eyes met mine for a long moment, "Where's your boyfriend?"

"Would you shut the fuck up for like a second?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them as I leaned against the island on my palms. Conrad rolled his eyes and turned his body away from me. That set me off again, "Since when the fuck do you talk so much anyway? My god the stupid fucking shit that flies–"

He put his bottle down, "Since when the fuck so you swear so much?" It was disconcerting how much calmer he was than me. It spurred me on.

"Since you, asshole!" I didn't even realize how angry I was until the words came flying out and the adrenaline spiked higher. "Since you make me so fucking mad I wanna tear my own hair out! And I thought we made progress the other night. How fucking stupid am I?" I took a long breath and felt the heat prickle my cheeks. I should have brought in another frozen margarita.

The look on Conrad's face changed and his voice went soft, "You've never been stupid a day in your life."

"Fuck you, I'm not done!" I wasn't done being pissed at him for trying to ruin a perfectly good day. "Do you even know who asked me to come in after you? Your friend, Danny. Sweet Danny who was genuinely worried that he hurt your feelings, you fucking–"

His eyes narrowed cruelly, "Oh, poor sweet Danny who wrangled an invitation to 4th party just to drool all over you apparently."

"Are you seriously fucking jealous right now?"

Conrad's mouth snapped shut as his eyes widened in panic for a second and I couldn't have cared less, "I didn't want to steal his attention away from you, Conrad. I was just saying hi…you know, like a nice person."

"Mhm. I'm sure he's got lots of ideas of how you can be nice to him." He took another swig from his bottle.

I couldn't even look at him anymore so I squeezed my eyes shut until I could. "Jesus, I'm not gonna date your friend, okay?!? Not if really you don't want me to."

When I opened my eyes Conrad looked shocked, "What? Seriously?"

It was the last thing I was expecting and I could feel myself start to calm down finally, "I mean, yeah. If it bugs you that much."

I could tell he was thinking about it. "Y/N…"

"Unless it really was the stupid fucking baseball shit." It was the shift in his tone of voice. I couldn't handle it.

Conrad paused, "I mean, he is a fucking liar. It's…" I spluttered a laugh and couldn't even hear his very important correction. "What? It's true." Conrad shrugged miserably and placed his bottle back on the counter.

I thought about Danny's request when I said, "I'm sure it is. I just have no idea what you're talking about."

Conrad rolled his eyes and I sighed.

"How is it I've known you my whole life and I never knew the absolute stats nerd hidden under that 90s heartthrob hair?" The second I walked into that kitchen I could barely believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was cutting myself off from another margarita even though I wanted it.

"You think I'm a 90s heartthrob?" He was leaning on the other side of the island and peering at me quizzically. I thought I could even see the hint of smirk under his misery.

"Ohmigod, that's what you got from that?" My face was screwed up in disbelief. His ego had no bounds.

"Uh, that was definitely the most important part."

"Oh so you're a delusional nerd too?" This was better than sulking Conrad or angry Conrad but only by an inch.

He paused and shrugged like he was shaking off the rest of his sour mood. And then I felt him focus his stare directly at me in a way I'd never experienced. I didn't have to look up at him to know what I'd find. Was this the shameless confidence that Belly always talked about? The silence was bad enough. He always did that; said the thing I least expected or never said anything at all after I did. He'd just wait and look at me, expectantly until I felt like I couldn't breathe.

The silence was never comfortable so I mustered the last bits of my courage and looked him square in the face, "Not everyone is flirting with you, Conrad."

His smile grew for the first time since he thought he was on a winning streak in the pool. The unsettling thing about it was it seemed like he knew something I didn't. Conrad was nodding and considering the statement as he stepped around the island to stand in front of me on the other side.

I gasped softly when his eyes flashed back to mine and muttered, "You sure?" He lingered in the moment and I felt a calloused fingertip graze the back on my hand gripping the island countertop. Just when the static in my brain started the clear and I could breathe again, Conrad leaned into my ear to whisper,

"Or do you save that for Danny now?"

He stayed close but he had to be drunker than I thought and fucking with me again so I took a breath and tried not to take the bait. Maybe it was my turn to say the thing he least expected for once. I didn't want to have to look him in the eye again after that, "I…you know, sometimes I can't tell and it's unintentional. Danny probably did the same thing. He's just a nice guy."

He scoffed and took a step back. "Sure. Not like you'd notice either way."

I looked at him then and shook my head in confusion, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Conrad opened his mouth as he stepped closer again but was shocked into place when he heard his brother calling for him from the other room. "Connie!"

He had the decency to look at me apologetically before directing him to the kitchen. When I saw Jeremiah's expression was serious and fixed on Conrad, I used that opportunity to make my exit. I took a few minutes in the bathroom to splash some water on my face and assess the pink hue in my skin as flush or sunburn. It didn't take long before I started to hear raised voices. I debated whether to investigate or leave them to it, if it was even the Fisher brothers at all, but when I thought about how Susannah wouldn't be able to deal with it like she always did, I knew I had to make sure it wouldn't get out of hand.

I caught pieces of the story as I walked back towards the kitchen. Susannah and Adam had been separated for a year now but he'd helped throughout as he should. He helped more than he did when they were together if Conrad was telling the truth. I heard Jeremiah accuse Conrad of scaring Adam away from the party altogether. It was true, Adam Fisher was nowhere to be found for the first time since I could remember. It was strange to think about now when he'd showed up for a few short hours the year before.

Jeremiah's tone was firm. "What gave you the right?"

"Get over it, Jere. They're not even together anymore." In contrast, Conrad sounded like this was the last conversation he wanted to have.

"You think I don't know that?"

"This is Mom's house and her party. You really think she wants him here?"

"I think she wanted him at Thanksgiving and Christmas and when the treatment got really bad in the Spring too. Oh, but that's right you had finals and weren't around much then, moping around after you screwed things up with Belly." My eyes squeezed shut at the dig. This could escalate badly.

"Fuck you, you know I came home every second I could!"

"I was there every day!"

"Okay?! Okay! What do you want, a medal?" I hoped the breath I huffed wasn't audible enough for them to hear.

Jeremiah shook his head out of the corner of my eye, "Did you even ask her? Cause you're right, this is her party and she should have decided. Not you." The footsteps were heavy across the tile as he left and I heard the door slam behind him.

Conrad sighed. "You heard every word of that, didn't you?"

I winced and came out of hiding around the corner to see him leaning heavy on the island like it was the only thing holding him up at this point. His liquor bottle of choice was abandoned by the sink. "I'm sorry...but not every word and I didn't mean to, I swear. I was just in the bathroom."

"It's okay. It's not your fault. Actually it's my fault. As per usual." He didn't move from his spot as his eyes carved holes into the countertop.

"Don't say that." My heart ached for him without my permission. Maybe Conrad fucked up by not inviting Adam or telling him not to show up at all but some of what Jeremiah said was unfair. And it wasn't hard to see that his brother was taking every word to heart no matter what.

"Why not? It's true. It's the only fucking thing I'm good at anymore." He looked up finally, lost.

"Connie, come on."

The words seemed to shock him out of his emotional spiral. His brows raised and while the smile on his face was immediate, it fell just as quick, "I can't remember the last time you called me Connie."

"I think I do, actually." Apparently it was infectious because now I was smiling at a memory I thought I'd lost.

When I looked his way again, he was watching me expectantly with the hint of that same sweet smile on his face. It was the least I could do since he seemed interested in the distraction from his own thoughts.

"There was this girl in my freshman year named Connie and I remember thinking it was hilarious that it was a girl's name. Kinda gross of me, honestly."

"I would say," he interrupted but was still listening.

"Do you wanna hear the story or not?" His hands raised in defeat as he chuckled. "I told Belly I was gonna torture you with it that summer; calling you every famous Connie I could come up with. TV characters and political figures but she got really upset and said you'd be mad so 'please don't'. So I tried to forget about it entirely so I wasn't tempted."

When I looked up again, Conrad was looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite figure out so I kept on. "And it must have worked too because I forgot about it until this second."

He nodded slowly, "Does that mean I get to call you Y/N/N again?"

I rolled my eyes at the old nickname and conceded, "I guess it's only fair."

We ended up heading back towards the party and paused to look outside sliding door windows at the view of the patio. He nudged me, "So you've grown to like my name."

I didn't need to look at him to know he was trying to shift his mood before we went back to everyone who was oblivious about what had gone down inside. "Damn, the confidence with which you said that completely inaccurate statement."

"Mm, say it again." He muttered and I shot him a glare so fast I couldn't believe he kept talking. "But softer."

My patience was battling against the need for physical violence but I let it out verbally. "Maybe try therapy if that gives you a nerdgasm." I was gonna get a lot of traction out of this nerd thing.

"Exposure therapy maybe." The mood shift was successful if I could base it on his teasing tone and goofy smile.

"I said I wasn't flirting with you, dummy." I didn't mean to bring it up again since it wasn't that serious but it wasn't the only thing I'd said that I was gonna regret after the fact.

Conrad scrunched his face in disbelief, "That's definitely not what you said. Actually, we decided you wouldn't know if someone was flirting with you. Case in point."

I could barely listen to him anymore and I gestured for him to quit it. "Fine, whatever, I'm saying it now. Not flirting. Can we move on?" I knew he was looking at me then but I refused to do the same.

"No." His response was immediate and I saw him register the shock, like it even surprised him a little that he'd said it.

I didn't have a choice then and could only gape in his direction, eyes struck wide by his stubborn streak.

Conrad turned to me and stepped closer like he'd made a decision. "Even if you weren't, I was. And I want you to know so I'm telling you now, straight up, to your face, so later you can't explain it away or pretend I didn't…flirt with you."

And that's when I realized he did know something I didn't. I was such an idiot. He broke his steady gaze for a second and chuckled, "I didn't mean to at first and then…I don't think I can stop now."

If all that wasn't enough, he wasn't done. "I don't want to." Conrad leant close then and his voice dropped an octave, "I mean, why does he get to when I can't?"

I heard the sliding door shift open and closed but didn't see it from my frozen state, staring at a corner piece of the door frame. I sucked in an unsteady breath and looked up just in time to see him look back at me from the edge of the pool, quickly before he jumped in.

My nerves were shot and despite the cool air inside the house compared to the heavy July sun, my hairline was damp. My mind was blank and racing at the same time; no thought coherent in the slightest so I shut it down completely. No more thinking, not that I could think myself out of this one anyway. I waited until I could breathe normally and wasn't overheating from the inside before I stepped back out to the patio and steered directly to the drinks table for my third frozen margarita.

The rest of the party was fairly uneventful in comparison but still great. No more drunken drama or broken family heirlooms to Belly's great relief. In fact, I found a lot of peace watching her for the rest of the night; giggling with her friends, swimming until her limbs cramped up and flirting with Jeremiah if I could read the signals right. He seemed elated by the development and I let myself be happy for them instead of diving into the complications of that potential. No more thinking.

At one point, I watched Conrad grab Danny's shoulder, both of them nursing their last beers of the night, and mutter something to him that looked serious enough to be an apology. Danny shook his head with a smile and gripped him in a fierce hug. I didn't even realize I was smiling at the sight until Danny's eyes caught mine and he mouthed a grateful 'thank you'. It was so sweet I had to put down my margarita and rethink my life choices. I caught Aunt Laur and Susannah sitting together and seeing it too: Laurel pouted her bottom lip at her friend and Susannah's eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

When the party got to the point of only relying on the patio and pool lights, I distracted myself with the first steps of organized clean up. Steven joined me not long after, saying that he needed an excuse for a quiet task to keep his hands busy. Usually I would have pressed for more information but I was surviving off fumes by that point. Maybe everyone was. Nicole and Danny stopped by to say goodbye and thanked us for a great party. I hugged them both and looked around to realize that it was only the family left after that. Jeremiah and Belly said something about how they'd make up for their clean up crew shift in the morning and were nowhere to be found after that.

Eventually, when Susannah's porcelain serving platter almost slipped from my hands and into pieces on the kitchen floor, Laurel told me I'd done enough and shooed me upstairs. I debated washing the day off before I crashed into bed but worried I'd actually fall asleep under the warm spray. I'd just managed to get into a baggy Cousin's Rowing t-shirt and sleep shorts before I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

It was the creak of the old wooden drawers of Belly's dresser that pulled me out of deep slumber. The room was bright with sunlight shining through the curtains and I had slept right on anyway. I yawned as Belly made a face in my direction and grabbed her crop top.

"I'm sorry! I was just gonna change before I got to the beach. I don't wanna miss the chance on our last day."

"What time is it?" I looked around the room when my phone wasn't on my nightstand like usual. It landed on the end of my bed with a thump.

"After 10. Here. I found it on the kitchen table when I came in last night. Figured I should plug it in for you."

I smiled and saw that it was, indeed, fully charged. "You're sweet."

"The least I could do. You barely left anything for me and Jere to finish up this morning."

"Yeah, I was on a mission." I looked at her smiley face as she pulled her top over her bikini. "So. About you and Jere…"

Belly was never good at hiding things from me and her face screamed guilt even as she tried to shrug it off. "What do you mean?"

"Belly. Come on." She looked at me then, waiting. "You guys hung out all day yesterday and then you left together last night. What's going on there?"

The poor thing looked scared, "You're not mad?"

I rolled my eyes, "Is there something to be mad about? I mean, if you guys like each other…it's not gonna be easy but there are worse things."

"Wow, you should sleep in more often. Oh, don't forget to check the kitchen when you get up. Conrad went out early and got the good muffins."

"Oh, nice. But you're not off the hook about this Jere thing."

She pulled her lip balm out of her pocket and smeared it across her bottom lip. "It's not anything yet. When there's something to tell, I'll let you know."

"You better."

I took a moment to check my phone and saw an unread message from an unknown number. Hey, it's Danny. Jeremiah swore it was cool if he gave me your number so I hope that's okay. It was nice seeing you yesterday. The look on my face must have given me away because Belly was laughing at my expense in almost no time.

"Let me guess. Danny decided to text you after all." She wiggled her brows and giggled.

"Did you know about this?"

"I was there when Jere was trying to convince him. Poor guy actually thought you rejected him because of Conrad." Belly didn't seem to notice if my face reacted to that tidbit. "I told him there wasn't any reason you couldn't come back to Cousin's this summer if you had some good incentive."

She wasn't wrong. It wasn't like I had plans like Steven and Belly. I didn't need to be anywhere until the middle of August. I didn't need to shut everything down before it even started; before giving it a chance to be something to forget about at all. It was a nice thought that was almost immediately ruined by Conrad's look of relief when I told him I'd do the exact opposite. Maybe in a different world where I wasn't leaving for California in five weeks, or if I had any concrete plans of spending more time in Cousin's this summer, I'd feel different. Not to mention that I still didn't have the slightest idea where Conrad's head was at after yesterday and I wasn't sure I even wanted to. The world in which I could be excited about this didn't exist and it was time to make peace with that.

"You know he invited me to his ball game? I can't believe I have to leave before seeing him in those white pants."

"Y/N!" Belly threw her stuffed polar bear, Junior Mint, at my chest and I caught it with a laugh. "I knew you liked him. He got so much hotter this year, I'm a little jealous I didn't get there first."

I gasped dramatically, "I'm telling Jeremiah!"

"I'm kidding…kind of. I mean, I'm definitely leaving but Danny Wilder could inspire a hot girl summer."

"Mm. Period." I looked back at the text and wondered if I should just leave it altogether. My stomach grumbled and it distracted me enough to leave it be for now and wave Belly off to the beach to have her fun.

I shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen after my shower, remembering the muffins Belly said would be waiting for me. The box was on the island like always and I smiled at the small victory. I really should have missed my chance at one, let alone my favourite, coming down after 11am. I opened the box and considered my choices when I heard someone clear their throat. I looked towards the sound and found Conrad standing in the doorway.

"Uh…I uh, saved you a carrot. It's under the cake plate." He gestured to the other side of the counter where it waited for me.

"Oh. Thanks." I walked that way and saw him shift his stance uncomfortably, and look down at his feet. I forced myself to give him the credit he deserved at that moment with a look of sincerity. "You didn't have to do that."

He looked pleasantly surprised, "It's no problem. You uh…call it a thanks for cleaning up last night. My mom really appreciated it."

"Of course. Anything for Susannah."

It was the most polite we'd ever been to each other in our entire lives. I wasn't even sure it was real since there were no witnesses to prove I wasn't making the whole thing up somehow. Belly and Steven would laugh in my face if I told them. But that didn't stop the awkwardness from getting worse by the second and finally I couldn't take it anymore. Conrad looked like he wanted to say something else but I couldn't hear it, whatever it was and I was scared that I already knew. Instead of giving him the chance, I mumbled a quick 'thanks again' and 'see you later' before bolting back upstairs with my carrot muffin in hand and shut the door behind me. I leaned back against it and wondered how I'd avoid whatever that was for the next 24 hours before my time in Cousin's would come to an end.

___________________________________________

author's note: I hope you enjoyed part 2 of 4th of July! How are we feeling at this point? Don't worry because there's still lots more story to come even if Y/N thinks her journey is ending. Next chapter is a day at the boardwalk! Thank you again for the continued support 💚💛🧡❤️. Reply with comments and let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist. If you'd like to ask me about any upcoming chapter warnings you wanna be warned of ahead of time (angst? 18+ smut?) then come visit my blog with any questions and I'll be happy to answer!

taglist: @c4rpediem-s @jackierose902109 @lcvecstiel @h0t-as-h3ll @stylesxroyalty @fandom-addict404 @hellofutur @junnniiieee07 @shelby-x @historygeekqueen

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #team conrad #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp conrad #the summer i turned pretty au #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty fanfic #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher au #conrad fisher x fem!reader #Spotify

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theoreticaltranstherian · 2 months

Text

ARTISTS! PICREW FOLKS! ECT!

I have a challenge.

I am going to, using my magical powers of description and poetic word choice, describe myself.

You should try to draw/make me based on what I describe and mention me in the post/reblog this post with the picture!

No pressure but if you see this and aren't an artist but know someone who may be, perhaps reblog and mention them? Just if you don't mind :)

However, do not (and I can't stress this enough) use AI art for this. I do not support the use of AI art at all and I do not want to interact with jt whatsoever

(it's gonna be in the third person bc I can write like that better)

(also sorry for my weird similies)

He stood there in front of the mirror, somehwat awkwardly, observing himself. He was 5'6 - no idea why he had that memorized, but oh well - and built like a tree. That is, if that tree was in fact not a tree but a stick with limbs. He had Fluffy red hair that fell to his shoulders when it was wet but rested normally a few inches above. How he hated that hair; Utterly untameable and never sat quite right. He had disproportionately long legs, not so much that it stood out normally, but if it was mentioned you could see it and when wearing skirts or shorts his long expanse of leg seemed to stretch on forever. He had very little muscle, and as he flexed experimentally in the mirror, he snorted - He looked like he was built with pencils. His shoulders and hips were the same width, that is to say quite narrow and somewhat awkwardly thin; it matched the rest of him, but he couldn't help but wish that he was bulkier. His neck was functional if not a little short. Attached to it, as with most humanoids, was his head. He wore thick rimmed round glasses both because they had to be with how thick his lenses were and they hid more of his face, which he was quite insecure about anyway. His ears were ever so slightly uneven, leading to his glasses never quite sitting right on his face and usually resting on his nose. Oh, his nose; the only thing he didn't despise about his face. Not that it was a specifically good nose - One of the nostrils were a bit bigger than the other and it was sort of small - but it looked the least weird out of all his facial features. Resting below his nose was a septum ring, the same black one he'd had on since he got the piercing only because he couldn't be bothered to change it. Continuing down past his lightly freckled face was his mouth, as was to be expected. He had pale lips to match his equally pale skin, the two only differentiated by a slight pink tinge on the former and the assumption that he was not in fact a snake and did have lips. He had eyebrows slightly darker than his hair, although to tell the truth he sometimes would use mascara to make them darker because of his fragile masculinity and his need to fit traditional male standards of appearance so as not to be misgendered. His face overall was the shape of one of those Japanese watermelons that had started to become squared but only very barely before escaping its clear plastic prison. He wasn't insecure about his height, but that didn't stop him from always wearing platforms; he just liked how they looked. He was currently wearing his favorite outfit, consisting of a black tank top that went a few inches up his neck, an olive and dark green striped button up not fulfilling its namesake over top, and some pale dark green cargo pants. He hated wearing jewelry, as it was just one more thing to lose, but he always had on a chain with a gold ring holding a small clock face; His partner had asked him out with it, and he kept it with him because he knew if he set it down in his dump of a room it would be lost to the ether the second he looked away. He also had his ears pierced, but rarely wore earrings and instead always had on a pair of headphones to help with the constant anxiety from noise. He had tried to wear headphones with earrings in the past but found it extremely uncomfortable. As he stepped back from the mirror, he realized his internal monolog was extremely monotonous, and decided to stop observing himself.

Thank you to @annotated-catastrophe for the original idea!!!!

#art challenge #drawing challenge #writing thingy

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pinievsev · 2 years

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pls make a lil xavier thorpe fluff moment, preferably maybe he's teaching the reader to paint and they get caught up with each other? hehe

Sure thing! <3

QUALITY TIME

Pairing: Xavier thorpe x gn!reader

Warnings: maybe some swear words, kissing, alot of fluff :]

It had been a long day at Nevermore Academy, you were assigned alot of homework and had the worse possible classes.

Right now, you were on your way to Xavier's 'personal art studio' as he called it. It was not that far from the academy building but far enough not to be noticed. It could be a pain to get to tho, jumping over branches and mud.

Finally, you made it. You knew Xavier was inside, he'd text you and told you he would be here after classes. You raised your fist to knock on the door, he'd said you didn't have to but you did anyways.

A few seconds later the door opened revealing a tired looking Xavier,his eyes looked dark and he had eyebags, he's hair was messily in a half up half down bun and his clothes full of paint. Your heart broke. "Hey" you said gently, fearing he'd break "hey.." he replied opening the door further for you to walk in. You gasped, there were paintings and drawings of the monster he's told you he has been seeing in his dreams everywhere. Your heart broke even more.

You stared at one painting, half finished still on the stand. It was like it was staring right back at you.

Xavier for some reason panicked "i- I'm sorry,here!" He grabbed a nearby sheet and covered it up "don't apologise" you tilted your head to the side looking up at him "have you slept at all..?" You asked your voice barely above a whisper. Xavier shook his head looking down "I am just... Scared to" you nodded even though he couldn't see you. You felt horrible, you wanted to help but didn't know how.

"maybe we should take your mind off of it!" You said after some thinking " what? How?" You looked around "show me how to paint" you said once again happily "seriously?" You only nodded and smiled at him "fine come here" he said placing a clean canvas on a stand, pulling you to stand Infront of it he stood behind you handing you a paint brush and holding your hand, his other arm hugging you around your middle as if he'd lose you. "Right so..." He started talking.

You stared up at him rumbling on and on, you zoned out. He looked at peace talking about something he loved. "Understand?" He tilted his head down to look at you. You just looked back "were you even listening to me?" He asked suspiciously "yeah." He narrowed his eyes "no you weren't" you turned to face him "yes, yes I was!" You protested "what did I say then" he asked. A smile starting to form on his lips "well...." You started but sighed in defeat "okay maybe I wasn't paying attention" he shook his head and raised his eyebrow "and why is that?" You smiled innocently "I found something more interesting to look at".

His smile widened hearing that "oh really?" "And what is that?" He leaned down a bit "not telling" he pulled you closer "pleaseee" you shook your head "nope" he moved even closer, your faces now mare inches apart "pretty please?" He playfully pouted, you stared into his eyes, "you" you whispered, a sudden wave of confidence washing ove you.

He didn't react to that but his eyes started to get glossy "Xavier?.." you asked "mhm?" "Are you okay?" He nodded closing the gap between you two into a gentle kiss. After you pulled back he smiled sadly at you his eyes roaming over your face "you make me happy you know that?" He asked and you smiled back "you do too..." You replied and kissed him again your arms around his neck, his behind your back. You actually helped.

Sorry if it was a little short and bad!

Tag list: @nova-lov3su , @elduster , @countsmoon , @biggestsimponhere , @andreeasancheez , @justmanu , @yourmidnightlover , @whitewingsh , @hwrtsiren

(if you have interacted with my post and aren't tagged it's because when I searched for you I didn't get a result)

#xavier thorpe #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday oneshots #oneshots

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wasabidottie · 9 months

Text

Delay (Jschlatt)

A/n: Hey :)) Im sorry for the lack of posts. School is kickin' my ass, but im gettin into the swing of things

The airport terminal buzzed with the chatter of impatient travelers as they waited for the delayed flight from LA to Austin. Schlatt stood in line, his arms crossed, a deep scowl etched across his face. He had places to be, and this delay was pushing his already limited patience to its breaking point. He had just wrapped up filming with Ted, and all he wanted was to get back to his own bed.

As he impatiently tapped his foot, he noticed a figure nearby. A person who seemed surprisingly relaxed despite the delay, as if they were entirely unfazed by the inconvenience. You had been visiting family in LA and were heading back to Austin as well.

You couldn't help but notice the infuriated expression on Schlatt's face. With a friendly smile, you approached him, hoping to bring a little cheer to the situation. "Hey there," you greeted, your voice warm and soothing. "Looks like we're all in this together, huh?"

Schlatt shot you a glare that could have melted steel, but you weren't deterred. "Yeah, this is some real bullshit," he grumbled, his frustration evident in his tone.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, at least we've got some extra time to kill. Maybe you can tell me about what brings you to LA?"

Schlatt eyed you warily at first, but something about your genuine interest and friendly demeanor started to wear down his gruff exterior. "I was filming with my buddy. We do this podcast thing," he grumbled, still not entirely convinced that small talk was the solution to his problems.

"Sounds interesting," you replied, genuinely intrigued. "What's it about?"

As Schlatt began to explain the podcast and the various shenanigans they got up to during the filming, you listened attentively, asking questions and laughing at his anecdotes. The minutes ticked away, and somehow, the delay didn't feel quite as frustrating anymore.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the announcement came that the flight was ready for boarding. Schlatt and you found yourselves seated next to each other on the plane, a chance encounter that felt almost serendipitous given the earlier delay.

As the plane took off, Schlatt found himself feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. Your friendly presence and ability to turn a frustrating situation into an enjoyable conversation had worked wonders on his mood. He even caught himself smiling a few times, something he didn't do often.

The hum of the plane's engines created a backdrop for your conversation with Schlatt as the miles between LA and Austin steadily decreased. You learned more about his podcast and the crazy stories that came from it, each one more hilarious than the last. Schlatt, in turn, was genuinely interested in your visit to LA and your family. He was surprised to find himself enjoying the conversation, something he didn't anticipate when he first saw you in the airport.

"So, what about you?" Schlatt asked, his eyes narrowing playfully. "What's your story? Visiting family in LA, huh? Got any wild tales to share?"

You laughed, appreciating his curiosity. "Oh, nothing too wild, just the usual family gatherings and trying to dodge awkward questions about my love life."

Schlatt chuckled. "Ah, love life, huh? Well, I can relate to dodging questions about that."

The banter flowed easily between you two, a natural chemistry that neither of you had expected. The flight, which had started as an inconvenience, now felt like a delightful interlude in your lives. Time passed quickly as you exchanged stories, shared anecdotes, and discovered common interests.

As the plane began its descent into Austin, you felt a pang of disappointment that the journey was coming to an end. You had genuinely enjoyed your conversation with Schlatt and didn't want it to stop. But there was one thing you could do to ensure it continued.

At baggage claim, as you both waited for your luggage, you turned to Schlatt with a mischievous smile. "You know," you began, "if you ever find yourself bored in Austin or just in need of some good conversation, here's my number."

You handed him a small piece of paper with your contact information, your eyes sparkling with humor. "Consider it an insurance policy against future flight delays."

Schlatt took the paper, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Well, toots, I can't promise you any more flight delays, but I'll be sure to give you a call if I ever need some good conversation."

As he tucked the paper into his wallet, you both laughed, the tension of the day completely forgotten. It seemed that fate had other plans for your chance encounter in the airport, plans that included a new friendship or maybe something more. Only time would tell, but for now, you both looked forward to the next adventure, whatever it might be, together.

#chuckle sammy #schlatt #chuckle sandwich x reader #schlatt x you #jschlatt #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x reader

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pretentiousgayguyidk · 15 days

Note

Hey Hi Hello!

I saw your requests are open so here I am!

I was thinking about Ran, Rindou, Hakkai and Mitsuya with an slavic reader? Male preferably could be gn!

Also could I be the 🥟 anon If your making a list?

Feel free to ignore this!

Pre writing thoughts - Yes!! I absolutely can, I've studied a small amount of Russian and Icelandic - but it probably won't be accurate as I'll have to use Google translate to fill the gaps. I hope you enjoy this 🥟 Anon!

Post writing thoughts- Okay... Well, I wasn't expecting to write so much, so I'll have to make other parts for the other characters 😭 but I hope this is good enough considering how long it took. (Also sorry it wasn't gender neutral, I completely blanked on it)

(Name) stuck out like a sore thumb, having moved to Japan half way into the school year; it wasn't often that foreigners moved to the area. The peculiar student had certainly caught Mitsuya's attention, piquing Takashi's curiosity... Well, (Name)'s caught the eyes of everyone not just Mitsuya.

One thing that stood out was (Name)'s accent, the mix of Japanese words with the addition of deep and throaty annociations strange yet amusing; the rolling of his r's and the emphasis of the ch's and k's pointed towards Slavic origins. That note inspired Mitsuya, and in an attempt to make (Name) more comfortable he started researching traditional Slavic clothing.

"What is that?" Yasuda questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion and slight judgement - as the current piece Mitsuya was working on was out of character for him. The red, black, white, and blue fabric stood out against his usual more casual colour choices - and the sketches of geometric embroidery patterns weren't at all like the usual Kanji he used.

Mitsuya sticks his pencil behind his ear, leaning back in his chair earning satisfying pops from his spine; he had honestly been expecting this question and was expecting it to be asked sooner. He gives Yasuda a tired smile, his arms lax as they hang by his sides.

"It's a uh..." He trails off, unsure how to properly pronounce the word - as it was either Russian or Ukrainian, he couldn't tell the difference even with the little research he did - all he knew was that it was a more traditional Slavic outfit. "Byshibanka?"

He felt a tad guilty, even though the certain Slavic student was nowhere near to hear his horrendous mispronunciation; it felt like a dishonor of sorts. Yasuda raises a brow, her hands on her hips as she looks down at her club captain.

"A what?" She asks, knowing for a fact that - one: Mitsuya mispronounced it - and that two: she would never remember to look it up later when she got home.

Mitsuya sits up, running a hand over his short silver hair; his expression filled with exasperation, not at Yasuda but himself.

"It's this like- traditional Russian or... Whatever... Outfit? I wanted to give it to the new guy." He explains, earning a knowing nod from Yasuda - who knew from her first meeting with Mitsuya that he liked guys... Even if Mitsuya didn't know it himself yet.

"Oh... So you like him?"

Mitsuya shrugs, not getting the implication - as it wasn't exactly the norm for guys to date other guys. He had no idea if he liked the new kid, he just wanted to do something nice... It wasn't like he found (Name) interesting or cute.

"I don't know, he seems like a chill guy - I've never talked to him." The teens nonchalant answer only furthered Yasuda's suspicions, she wasn't going to spell it out for Mitsuya just yet; but she was certainly coming up with a scheme.

"Well, I hope he likes it... And hopefully he's actually Russian... You do know there's other countries like that, right?" She narrows her eyes, doubting that Mitsuya actually did enough research; not surprising, many teenagers weren't all that informed of nations outside of Japan and the major powers.

Takashi's eyes widen, shifting away nervously as he realizes that he completely glossed over the fact that there are other Slavic countries; he didn't bother looking at a map or anything, just looked up some traditional clothing.

"I mean- I..." He trails off, glancing down towards the pile of cloth in front of him; he didn't consider looking beyond Russia, and he didn't even know for a fact that the Vyshyvanka was Russian or not. He shrugs, attempting to wash away his own mild concern over what could be a massive mishap. "I'm sure it'll be fine... Right? Maybe he'll appreciate the sentiment?"

"I'm sure he will... Whatever, I'll leave you to finish your little gift." She states, turning to pay attention to some of the other club members.

Mitsuya felt strangely nervous, holding a box in his lap as he waited for (Name) to enter the school gardens, a place where (Name) often stayed for lunch - since he didn't exactly have many people to talk to. Soon enough, the Slavic man rounded the corner; entering the school gardens, taking his place in the corner with his lunch. (Name) didn't even notice Mitsuya, far too focused on his hunger to realize he wasn't alone like usual.

The Japanese teen finally gains his confidence, standing from his spot on one of the benches. His steps were steady, and his expression showed a lack of interest - or rather calm despite his slight anxiety.

"Hey." Mitsuya calls out casually, causing (Name) to jump as he looks up from his food. It probably wasn't a good idea to interrupt someone in the middle of their lunch, but Mitsuya's mind was oddly scrambled when it came to (Name); his usual calm and collected self thrown out the window.

"Eh? Hi?" (Name) replies, glancing away as he rubs his throat; conscious of how he spoke. His accent has always been a problem, especially with the Japanese language; it's earned more than a few strange looks from locals - as if him being visibly not Japanese wasn't enough to earn strange looks on occasion. Yet, Mitsuya didn't seem to mind his accent, in fact - Mitsuya found it endearing.

"So uh... I just wanted to give this to you." Mitsuya states awkwardly, gesturing down to the thin box in his hands; which had his name written on it, which helped (Name) - as he didn't know Mitsuya's name till reading it on the box.

"Yeah? What's the reason?" The Slavic teen questions, shifting in his seat as he sets aside his lunch box; pulling one leg up in an attempt to seem casual - even though he was very confused and suspicious. Mitsuya glances away nervously, rocking back and forth on his heels; a nervous habit he rarely ever felt the need to do.

"It... It's just a little something I made- I just uh... Wanted to... I don't know-" Mitsuya chokes on his words, feeling his heartbeat speed up as his cheeks warm; he felt strangely embarrassed by his reasoning. "I just wanted to help you feel more welcome."

"Ah... Makes sense... I guess." (Name) mumbles, glancing down to the box as he accepts it; his mind racing for any sort of clue as to what this gift could be.

The silence that falls between them grows more and more awkward and uncomfortable by the minute, neither of them knowing what to say in the moment. Finally, Mitsuya mumbles a small goodbye before turning on his heel to leave the garden.

Once Mitsuya was gone, (Name) hesitantly opened the box - his eyes widening at the sight of familiar clothing. He can't help but smile, setting the lid aside as he runs his hand over the embroidered fabric; he wasn't Ukrainian, but he had childhood friends who were - they always leaned towards traditionalism. They often wore vyshyvankas, and some other clothing that (Name) couldn't remember for the life of him... But either way, the sight of the clothes brought back fond memories.

Lifting the clothing from the box (Name) notices something, there wasn't any sort of tag or label printed onto the fabric... Did Mitsuya make this just for him? There was a note at the bottom of the box, which (Name) quickly turned his attention to.

Hey, I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable and welcome here - we Japanese aren't always the nicest to foreigners or whatever. So I did some research and made you this, I hope you like it.

It was such a simple note, but it made (Name)'s heart skip a beat. It wasn't as if Mitsuya had bought him a gift, which would have been greatly appreciated as well... But the fact that Mitsuya made it - well that was a whole other level.

"I'll have to thank him later..."

#male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #fluff #mitsuya x male reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x slavic male reader

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luckykittysshowerthoughts · 23 days

Note

I made a similar ask a while ago but i don't know if tumblr ate it or some other predicament (if you just didn't want to answer it that's fine too)

Do you think Michael had a childhood? And if he did, how do you think it was?

Omg I'm so sorry 😭 I was going to say I think Tumblr ate it, but I just looked back in my inbox and found it.

Probably what happened was this was sent during a bit of a semi-hiatus of mine. I got into a bit of a mental health funk and lost interest in Michael, so I probably just wasn't feeling it then forgot to circle back to this when I actually got back into the headspace to do so.

Anyway... enough explanations and into the actual question.

I'm tempted to say no, that he didn't have a childhood. This is based on some of my theories/headcanons regarding him and Barbatos (I still need to get around to writing that post @_@), and iirc Barbatos canonically never had a childhood.

However... that's boring. So, I'm going to go into some kid!Michael headcanons!

I imagine Michael's childhood having been relatively quiet and uneventful. The realms had only just been created, after all- there weren't very many beings around to cause problems, and things were only just starting to go into motion. Things started to get rowdy in his teen years, as the Devildom and Celestial Realm began to clash and he found himself leading legions of angels onto the battlefield, but his earliest years were quite unremarkable.

Michael was the first and only angel, for a while. But it didn't take long for him to get his first brother: Lucifer. The two essentially grew up together- Michael was a little older, but they experienced their childhood together.

Though it was just him and Lucifer for a while, Michael couldn't stop thinking about his siblings soon to be. Michael can see time, and got little glimpses of the future of his family. He'd offhandedly tell Lucifer the vague little tidbits that he somehow seemed to just know, excitedly rambling about their siblings-to-be.

"The next one's name is going to be... Simon? Or was it Simeon? Anyway. He's going to be even-tempered with the kindest smile, and he's going to love flowers!"

And Lucifer wouldn't quite believe him- only Father could know such things. But he'd chuckle a little and say, "Alright, Michael."

When the angels were just a small few, Michael would get lonely often. He tended to cling to Lucifer as his best friend, his first playmate. Whenever he got bored, he'd go talk Lucifer's ears off about something or other. It... was a little much for Lucifer at times. Eventually, Lucifer suggested Michael start writing down his thoughts instead of constantly subjecting him to them. As such, Michael got his diary, and has been religiously filling it out ever since. Nowadays, having that place to empty his thoughts makes him miss Lucifer a little less, and a little more.

Back then, Lucifer was the one on the straight and narrow. Michael was all over the place. He was the one who'd sneak down to the human world, to see rumored wonders like "stars" and "sunsets". He'd put off his duties like a little kid who didn't want to do their homework, refuse to sleep alone and regularly crawl into Lucifer's bed when Father stopped cuddling him to sleep. He took a lot longer to "grow up". Sometimes, he's convinced he still hasn't. Even if he's too ashamed to ever admit it.

#this turned into quite the writing exercise phew #so much for a bullet point list of headcanons lmaooo #at least it maybe makes up for the wait...?#one of Michael's biggest problems is that he loves too much. too hard.#hes very codependent #obey me michael #obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #obey me celestial realm #obey me angels #obey me headcanons

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nostxlgicrose · 1 year

Text

☆ Star-Shaped Seelie ☆

Genshin Impact Ensemble x Child!Seelie!Reader

Synopsis: Who knew a wardrobe could hide such a big secret? You know, like completely altering your physical form and shoving you into a completely foreign world with no instructions! What could go wrong?

Note: Playing around with concepts and stuff. Crossposted on AO3 and maybe Wattpad later…first post on here too (idk what I’m doing on this app!)

Warnings: mild emotional neglect, affection-deprived reader, child reader, seelie reader, PLATONIC relationships, hilichurls, possible ooc (in the near future 😭)

Chapter 1: Coming Out Of The Closet

"Ma, ma! Look, I drew you something!—"

"Not now, [y/n]. I'm busy."

You puffed out your cheeks into a pout, sighing as you lowered your hands. You worked on this drawing for hours! Well, maybe it wasn't that long...but still!

You had even taken the time to colour it in with your crayons! And it was the one with sixty-four in one pack! Oh, well..it wasn't like it was the first time you had gotten brushed off.

It was disheartening, but you shook your head to snap yourself out of your daze. Right, you couldn't be sad! It wasn't like your parents were just ignoring you. They said it was work! And work, apparently, was really important. Even more important than you?

...No, no, they said they were working for you. That couldn't be right. It was in your benefit. How could you think any different? Surely, your Ma and Pa would call you ungrateful if you were to voice out your thoughts. You definitely didn't want that. Maybe you were just too young to understand.

Still, it didn't make it hurt less when you wanted to do things with them, but they'd be glued to their cell phones or computers. Though they'd tell you they'd listen to you later, they'd just end up collapsing on their bed the moment they finish. Or they'd be busy arguing, like always.

You'd wonder why they just couldn't just hug and make up! You've seen it in your shows multiple times, so why couldn't that happen?

When would you get your magical superhero to swoop down and solve the ongoing conflict? Maybe the hero was busy helping other children. But how long would you have to wait until it was your turn?

You were patient, and a good kid—promise!

Regardless, the lack of attention you received was incredibly disappointing, but, what could you do about it? You could only hope that your parents would one day hold true to their promises and spend some time with you.

"...Okay, can I show you my drawings after though?"

"Yep, yep." She didn't pull her eyes away from the screen as she waved you off out of her room. You knew very well it was all a lie, though. "Now go bother your father for now, okay?"

You brightened. Of course, there was your dad! Surely they weren't working at the same time! You rushed down the hall towards your father's study, the paper clutched tightly in your hands. Unable to contain your excitement, you practically slammed his door open.

Maybe you shouldn't have done that, watching nervously as he lurched up from his desk. It seemed that he was napping before you came in, at least, before you rushed in. Your shoulders were now tensed, as if bracing for the worst. "...Hi dad."

His eyes focus on you, and for a second, a flash of anger is clearly shown by the way his eyes narrowed. But it soon faded...slightly, maybe, as he fixed his hair and turned away from you. "What have I told you about running in the halls? And you slammed the door so hard the neighbours could probably hear you."

"Sorry..." Your shoulders sagged as you sulked, looking ashamed. But your father did not look, nor did he acknowledge your intention for being there. Instead, he waved his hand in a similar motion like your mother had done so minutes ago.

"It's already been done. I'm not angry, just a little disappointed, [y/n]." He sighed, and you could hear the faint scribbling coming from where he sat. "Run along now. Your aunt and cousins should be here any moment now."

You nodded, slowly closing the door and walking down the stairs. You felt a bit disheartened at your mother's indifference and your father's seemingly endless criticism, but you would slap your face to get yourself out of it. "It's okay...Ma and Pa are just working. Ma has an important meeting later, and Pa is just making sure I'm not being a bad kid. I just need...to be better."

That's what you convinced yourself it was, anyways, as you made your way to the living room and plopped yourself down onto the floor. Your crayons were spread out on the floor, ready for you to continue drawing. And so you did—you had a brand new sheet of paper, and you spent the next few minutes drawing as you waited for your beloved aunt to drop by.

Soon enough, the doorbell rang. You sprang to your feet, leaving your materials on the floor as you practically flew to the front door. You'd open it with clear excitement, already recognizing the certain knock pattern that hit onto your door.

"Milo!" You practically launched yourself at the boy, tackling him into a hug. You could hear giggles and laughter from the other kids, as well as one that sounded much older than the rest—you supposed that was your aunt.

The woman was rather tall, and she bore a great resemblance to your father. But instead of the usual frown he seemed to have, she had a warm, happy smile that you'd always see when she visited. "[y/n]! It's so good to see you! It's been a long time."

You released your cousin with a nod, placing your hands on your waist. "Yes! I missed you, Aunt Cass! And Milo! And Lily, of course!" You listed off, making sure not to forget any of your dearest relatives.

"I'm sure you did," Your aunt would chuckle, patting your head as she slipped her boots off by the rug. "Where's your father?"

Your demeanor faltered for a brief moment, reminded of the unpleasant exchange you had because of your excitement. "Working! Like usual! But it's okay, we just gotta be quiet."

Despite your attempts to hide your sullen expression, Cass could see right through you. Even if you hadn't said anything, she was well-aware of her brother's tendencies to work himself to death and (hopefully unintentionally) neglecting you in the process. Well, both him and his wife had this problem, because she had been more of a mother to you than your actual parents...which said a lot. What would've happened if she wasn't there? She didn't even wanna imagine it.

"Alright. I'm just going to talk to him, so you three play here and remember, if someone knocks at the door—"

"Don't open it and call you down instead," Milo sighed, clearly tired of the constant reminders. It was common sense, after all. His response earned him a ruffle through his dark hair, messing it up completely. He only swatted his mother's hand away with a whine, trying to fix it back to how it was before.

"Yep! And if someone breaks in, run to the kitchen, because that's where all the weapons are!" Lily piped up, while you only held your thumbs up in reply to it all.

"...What they said."

Your aunt would smile, laughing a little as she clasped her hands together. "Good! Now, I'll be right back!" She'd say, before retreating upstairs towards your father's study. Now you three were alone in the living room...

So, naturally, you decided to play hide-and-seek! Your house wasn't the biggest, but it had a lot of good hiding spots. Luckily for you, this round had you as a hider. Both you and Lily were hiders, while Milo would be the seeker. You were pretty good at seeking, yes, but hiding was much more fun.

"Remember, no peeking!" You reminded the boy as you and Lily glanced at each other with a grin. You were going to make this incredibly difficult for the boy, that's for sure.

"Yeah, yeah, just go!" Milo huffed, turning to face the wall with his hands over his eyes. The starting point was the bathroom on the first floor—and the moment he started to count, you two were gone.

The two of you were together, until Lily separated from you to hide somewhere in the kitchen. You, on the other hand, decided to go upstairs. If you were going to hide with Lily, you'd both be out at the same time; you had to think strategically about this.

You were about to run into your room when you caught sight of a certain door. It was the one that would lead you to the attic. Your eyes went from the door to the bathroom—then back to the ominous darkness leading upstairs. Well, you guys laid out general rules...like how outside was off-limits for obvious reasons, but they never mentioned the attic.

A small grin made its way on your face as you stifled your giggles, running up the stairs quietly. After all, you weren't sure how much longer you had left until the seeker emerged. You made it to the top, huffing as you looked around the area. It was mostly just boxes and old furniture, and your original plan was to hide behind or even inside one of the boxes.

Those plans would fade, though, as soon as you caught sight of something even better.

A closet! It was something that apparently belonged to a distant relative, but your parents didn't seem to care for it. The presence of dust was evidence of the neglect, if the fact that it was tucked into the attic wasn't enough proof by itself.

You wondered if you'd have a similar amount of dust on your surface if you were a closet, too. Your parents didn't seem to like entertaining your endless chatter, nor appreciate your wonderful masterpieces you drew with your almighty crayons! It's okay, though. They were the ones missing out.

Brushing away the thoughts, you leaped into the closet and coughed when you noticed the amount of dust that was inside as well. You expected it to be empty, but there were a few coats inside.

Well, you say jackets, but...they sort of looked like costumes. There were weird ones. Some were red and white with clover designs, while there was one that was white and black with gold plates on them. There were even more, but you couldn't even comprehend how some of them worked. It was really weird, but your confusion faded when you heard a familiar shout downstairs.

Right, you had a much more important objective right now! And if that was Lily's shrill scream that you had just heard, that means you were about to have two people looking for you. You had to act fast.

Throwing yourself into the closet, you closed the doors and adjusted yourself inside. When you backed further into the closet, you expected to feel the cool wood against your back. But you didn't—you ran into another set of strange clothes hung on a rack. That was strange—you swore you only saw one rack. Plus, this closet was pretty darn small! There was no way it could fit two long racks inside.

Or maybe it could. It just...kept going, like an endless hole. Although you originally thought you just got lucky with the density of the wardrobe, you began to wonder if there was even an end to the piece of furniture.

"Woah. Magical closet," You muttered as you ventured deeper into the closet, pushing aside the strange attire and taking a few steps in. Actually, were you even in the closet anymore? It felt more like a tunnel now. You paused when you noticed light peeking from the top, and you couldn't help but gasp in awe. "...Sparkly."

You pushed back the final set of clothes to the side, and—

"Woaw. It's grass!"

Now, if your cousins were hearing this right now, they most likely would've called you crazy. But you weren't wrong! Far from it. In fact, you were seeing a lot of grass right now. The moon was casting its soft light down on you from above. Strange...wasn't it? It was just the afternoon a few seconds ago. Was it night in the closet? Actually, were you even in the closet anymore?

You turned to look at where you came from, only to gasp. The closet was gone. Instead, there stood a stone archway...as if you had walked out of that instead.

"Am I dreaming?" You wondered aloud as you examined your surroundings. Suddenly, you felt a new weight on your shoulders. Or maybe you had just realized that your clothes were completely different now.

You were now wearing a golden-yellow poncho, with a golden fur-like scarf wrapped around your neck. Two yellow thin strands of strange material sprouted from the front of it too. You were also wearing some sort of yellow star pin that kept the poncho and scarf connected, and it was then you realized that it was glowing brightly.

Or maybe you were the one that was glowing.

"Gasp! I'm a big glowstick now!" You exclaimed, twirling around with a giggle. You watched as your clothes fluttered around with your movements, the ends glowing a faint yellow.

What a strangely intricate dream you were having. You never had this much of a vivid experience before, and it was exciting.

"Wait, if I'm dreaming, does that mean I could fly?" You asked no one in particular, looking down at yourself before beaming. Overcome with sudden determination, you crouched down to ready yourself. You then jumped into the air, trying to flap your imaginary wings. "Flyyy, me!"

...Nothing happened. You'd fall back on your bottom, and you groaned. "Ouch. Aw, man!" You huffed, standing up and dusting yourself off. "Hmm."

You looked around for something, eyeing the stone arch. Maybe you had to jump off something? No, but the arch was too high. Perhaps you should do something safer.

Your gaze fell onto the nearby ledge, and you'd inch towards it nervously. Looking down, you realized that it wasn't a big jump. You could probably land on your feet if you fell.

But suddenly, you were nervous. Heights were scary. What if you went splat?

"I can walk away and never learn how to jump," You mumbled to yourself. "Or I can be brave and do it! If this is a dream, I won't get hurt if I fall! Everything will be a-okay!"

(You seemed to have forgotten how you had just braced a painful fall seconds ago.)

"Ookay, here we go..." You sucked in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You just had to build up the courage. Remember, flying is easy in a dream! Then you could maybe fly into the night, and touch the stars! Submerging yourself in those thoughts, you opened your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows in concentration. "Wait, I should be cool about this. Hmm..."

You thought for a moment before a grin appeared on your face, and you cleared your throat. "Toooo Infinity, and Beyoonddd!!!"

You jumped.

Suddenly, you felt lighter. You were no longer falling, but instead, your feet seemed to hover above ground. Your eyes widened—you were really flying! It felt so real, too!

But for some reason, you felt smaller...

"Oh." It was then you realized your arms were really small. In fact—your arms didn't even look like your arms! They were small and yellow, and looked like jelly! You panicked, trying to get a good look at your new body, to no avail. What in the world was going on?

You looked around for a mirror. Were there mirrors in this place? No, but you caught sight of a nearby pond. You wasted no time and flew towards it, only to shriek when you saw the reflection.

You were...you were a small yellow blob! With bunny ears! And a four-pointed star for a face! You noticed you also had that same gold scarf around your neck, but that wasn't the most important aspect right now. You literally did not have a face!

"Oh no. I'm a tiny lemon jelly rabbit!" You cried out, only to hear incoherent babbles coming out of your—well, you didn't actually have a mouth...but still. "Oh no no, I'm a tiny lemon jelly rabbit that speaks gibberish!"

Your tiny arms clutched the small ears atop your head, trying to decipher what exactly you were made out of. You were terribly confused, but yet, excited at the same time. Did this mean you had magical powers now? You always wanted to have cool powers! Maybe you could fight bad guys, and—

A sudden force caused you to choke when you felt your little spirit body be snatched up by a pair of hands. Panic swelled in your tiny being, as you squirmed. 'Oh no. I'm dead, I'mdeadI'mdeadI'm—'

"Olah!" [Hi!] It was a scratchy voice—and it did not sound human, further solidifying your fears when you looked up to see your captor. It was a strange creature with a mask, and fluffy hair surrounding its head. For some reason you knew what it was...it was a hilichurl. "Kucha si." [Small thing.]

"I dunno what you're saying, Mister Goblin." You huffed as you relaxed in it's hold. You knew it was a hilichurl, but it looked like a goblin, so you decided to use that instead. It didn't seem like it was going to eat you like you thought it was, so you could maybe trust it. When you looked over the hilichurl's shoulder, you found that it was all alone.

"Yo movo, kucha tomo!" [You come, small friend!] It exclaimed, and you jumped when it began to run off. Oh well, guess it was taking you somewhere now. Was this considered kidnapping? Your parents made it seem like it'd be scary! This was really fun! You should get kidnapped more often.

Your new friend ran a good distance before making it to a rather strange building. It had engravings on it and glowed a faint red. You trembled a bit in fear—it looked scary. Were you supposed to go inside that?

Much to your relief, it turned away from the doors and instead, walked along the stone paths that were laid out nearby. It looked like he had a little camp set up near this big glowing building. And yet, this whole place seemed abandoned. You gazed up at the hilichurl sympathetically, patting its arm. "Your home is broken. It's okay though, I'll be your friend!"

You had said that because you assumed this poor thing was living alone. You were proven wrong, immediately, because you found more of these hilichurl creatures emerging from behind rocks and stones. They all looked...the same. The same mask, fur, and even clothes. If you were to examine them further, though, there were some characteristics that helped separate some of them...like how one had a clipped ear, or how one had three scratches etched into its mask. Some even wore different coloured bandanas on their body somewhere. But at first glance, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Well, except for one, that was much bigger than the others. His mask was more defined, and had black fur. The axe that sat next to him was incredibly intimidating—you hoped you wouldn't anger it enough to become minced spirit goop. The hilichurl that held you was now offering you up to the big guy, and you could only shrink away as its gaze scrutinized your entire being. You kind of felt like Simba right now, except it wasn't on a cliff and to celebrate your birth. You felt like you were being judged...

"...Hi." You muttered, though your words came out as babbles and squeals instead. And yet, a small part of you hoped they'd somehow understand you.

The creature in front of you—a lawachurl, definitely (how did you even know these names?), suddenly reached out towards you. Was he gonna give you a hug?

You sparkled in excitement, your initial fear fading away. You loved hugs! And this big fluffy guy looked like a nice hugger.

"Mosi?" [To eat?] It rumbled, gaining a frantic shake of the head from the hilichurl that held you.

"Nye. Kucha...tomo!" [No. Small friend.] The hilichurl seemed to beam at their leader, presenting your little spirit body up to the lawachurl again.

"Yes. Tomo!" You had no clue what that meant, but just repeated the word you had managed to catch despite their clear inability to understand you. You wondered if tomo meant friend. Or best friend! You wouldn't mind having another best friend.

But the lawachurl understood the hilichurl, and you felt a small pat on the head from the big guy. It was a miracle you hadn't been squished to death.

"Dada!" [Very good!] The hilichurl cheered, as if it were happy your presence was accepted. You blinked curiously—huh, were you just adopted by Mister Goblin and his family?

It didn't show on your faceless body, but you could feel your subconscious smiling brightly.

Now that you thought about it...you were definitely winning that hide-and-seek match right now.

Note: i swear i hate trying to translate hilichurlian LIKE where is ella musk when you need her 😭😭

Next Chapter >

#genshin fanfic #genshin x child reader #child reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact seelie

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handoksoo · 10 months

Text

To Soar in the Skies

It's finally over. Your vision and wings are back

Character: Kamisato Ayato

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, major character death

a/n: This is my first time posting here, I hope you guys like it (⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕

As the Vision hunt decree is abolished, you stood in the middle of the battlefield. Finally, after years of fighting, you've done it. What you've fought for so long has finally concluded on a good note as you watched illuminated glows appear in the faces of those who've lost their vision. One by one, they cradled it and rejoiced as they felt the familiar surge of their blessing through them. No doubt a joyous occasion.

Your own vision appears, a sight to behold, and you gasp. A familair feeling of calm winds as you reach out your hand to held it gently in your hands. Barbatos' blessing hugging your form as beautiful teal elemental wings grew from your back. Decorated like crysyal flies.

You smiled, choking out a sob as you finally feel complete again. Your eyes look up to stare at your fiance just a few steps across from you as you. Gorgeous as ever, a bittersweet smile on his face as rain begins to fall and the skies darken. You take a shaky step forward...the spear that pierced your stomach moved.

"We did it." It came out as a weak whispers before you fell to your knees. Ayato was there in no less than a second to cradle your form gently yet closely as you feel his warmth. It didn't matter that the ground was soiled with blood and dirt. All that mattered was the both of you, this moment. An inevitable goodbye.

"If one of us dies." You brought up one night as you lay in bed with him. Legs tangled together and bare skin each other's only source of warmth. "I do not wish that we let the other see how we mourn."

Ayaro narrows his eyes curiously. "How so?" This conversation was heavy, knowing it was a possibility. Internally, they knew you had a higher chance of dying between the both of you. And as much as he wanted to stop you, your resolute goal wasn't something he could just rip away.

You trace circles onto his chest, sighing deeply. "If I die...I want to be bid farewell as if I'm just going to sleep."

"The battle is over." He whispered, taking her hand and pressing a kiss tonher palm. You could feel his lips shake, his face warm. And those eyes, lavender in hue, you never wished to be the one to cause pain behind them.

In an attempt to comfort him, you do your best to control your wings despite the pain. Lightly fluttering them to catch his attention. When his eyes shift to look at them, you can't help the smug smile on your face. "Beautiful, isn't it?" You teased even as blood was coughed out of her mouth to stain his clothes. But Ayato simply moves his eyes back to stare at you. Your face, your eyes, your mouth, everything. "Yes." He agrees. "So beautiful." He kisses your forehead, and you feel tears cascade down. And goodness, such a tease he was, you couldn't help but feel flustered against all odds.

Ayato eyed your vision and wings. It was as beautiful as you had always bragged back then as you vowed to fight against the Raiden Shogun and her decree. A proud and confident free spirit that fit the vision granted to her. Absolutely stunning in his eyes...even as you now laid to die in his arms.

He presses you closer to him as much as he can, trying to keep himself from just crying out loud. It would sadden you deeply, and he didn't want that now. If you were to go, you have to be happy and content. No matter how soon it is. Slowly, he tilts your head up to kiss you on the lips. Slow and steady, savoring this one last time

You laughed as he finally pulled back and see your blood has stained his mouth, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm glad...that the visions are back." She says, voice growing weaker. "...I'm sorry...I won't be able to show you how I fly…" It was what you promised him every time. To show him the beauty of the skies without a glider. To guide him like the wind guided you.

Ayato felt something stab into his heart as he listened intently to her. Engraving her voice into his mind. His beloved had been through so much in this fight for justice, and despite all of it, you had not given up on your dream of flying again. Even now, as her life was fading, her eyes were turned towards the sky and on the vast horizon.

Then, slowly, the vision in her hands started to fade. An ominous gray taking over as her body starts to become heavy. Ayato shuts his eyes tight, hugging her closer and whispering to her ear. One last comfort for his beloved. Before she returns to the skies and watches over as a different being. A place where he can not yet reach.

"Don't worry," he whispered, stroking her hair. "I think I can imagine it just fine."

"..."

"Goodnight, my love."

#genshin x reader #genshin angst #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato angst #ayato angst #kamisato ayato

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 month

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tagged by several people over the course of the last few weeks since the last time I posted one of these including @imogenkol @kyber-infinitygems and @thesingularityseries last week. Thank you all and tagging you back! cod tag list opt in/out

I am still stuck in my cod-verse with Rory, so sorry everyone!

This week I've got a snippet from a much later chapter in "Evening of Score" which is Rory's POV of the first MW game, and this is a lead up to the interrogation with the Butcher in Russia (for reference). AKA proof of them both being assholes and thus more reason they ended up together. Rory knows he's a dick and still chooses to be with him, this is due to her shitty taste in men

warnings for mentions of: Price manipulation and intimidation tactics and general morally grey war criminal behavior, kidnapping mention, and a toxic dynamic of two people in love who are both kind of shit human beings, swearing, and smoking

“When were you going to tell me about the wife and child?” [Rory] mentioned the fact quietly, out of earshot, as she lit her cigarette, the dancing light of the flickering flame reflecting in her eyes as she stared at him. “Were you waiting until I couldn't back out? Was this another classic Captain Price manipulation tactic?”

He didn't move, didn't falter, not even for an instant. Arms crossed over his chest, jaw set tight, Price was a foreboding presence that seemed to tower over her. “You know we have to do things like this, Rory.” His voice was kept low, flat. No flares of emotion in his tone. This was John at his most terrifying, ruthless and uncompromising, expecting his soldiers to either fall in line and step up to follow his lead or prove themselves unable to keep pace.

“I'm aware.” She pinched the bridge of her nose as she took a drag of her cigarette. “Doesn't make me feel like any less of a fucking hypocrite though.”

“How – it's not your call, is it?”

“I can turn my conscience off for a lot, haven't quite gotten there with women and children yet, John.” She hid the mild tremor in her hand by slipping her lighter into her jacket pocket. “Not after the things I've seen,” she muttered under her breath.

His eyes glanced down to where her hand receded and she knew he had caught on, but he didn't show it, his stare more steely than usual as it cut through her frailty. “Don't have to explain the reasoning to you though, do I?” He tipped his head to the side, jaw lifting. Dominant and imposing. Challenge in his tone. That cold, unflinching stare from powder blue eyes that could twinkle with so much mischievous intent when they were in private.

“No.” Blunt. Direct. The way they spoke to each other when on a mission belied all the love they had for one another when free from the strict collar of rank and duty.

“That's a good girl.”

“Don't give me any of that patronizing bullshit right now,” she snarled, jutting her fingers that held the cigarette between them toward him, punctuating her words with a stabbing motion with her hand.

His eyes didn't narrow, there was no furrowing of his brow, he stayed still. There wasn’t even a clench of his jaw or a tic of the vein in his forehead. The stone mask was all he was presenting to anyone at the current moment. “You'll do it though, won't you?” He husked, holding her gaze captive, testing her limits.

“Yeah,” she said bitterly. “Always do. Wouldn't be the first interrogation you've had me take the lead on, now would it? Even if our methods differ.”

He chuckled darkly, the cold gleam of the merciless predator that resided inside him rose to the surface for just a split second. “Didn't pack the plastic or the brass knuckles this time, love.”

“Ha!” She responded, acerbic as always. Her gaze flickering over to the young sergeant Price had taken under his wing, before returning to the man before her. “You sure you want the Sergeant taking part? Might be a little green, don't you think?”

“He'll do fine.”

“As long as he does what you say…?” Her large hazel eyes lifted from the spot on the floor she was silently glaring at to look up at him. Normally warm and gleaming with life, her stare was now darkened by what was expected of her, the dark spots on her conscience visible in the depths. There were a lot of shitty things she’d been asked to do in her career, it made it worse coming from the man she shared a home and bed with.

Price nodded, not replying with words. There's always more to what he didn't say than the words that were spoken. His body language never conveyed much either when he was like this, the eyes hardly giving anything away. But there was the underlying threat of the fact that John knew he was a rarity in this world, the things he did weren’t always easily digestible by others’ standards, he carried skeletons in a closet that went deep into dark recesses, and with that came the fact that there was a heavy gravitational pull that emitted from him, one that drew others into his world and either tainted them with his way of thinking or they were spat out and deemed unwilling, too weak to enter his orbit. It was the worst part of him, and one she tried her best to ignore despite falling prey to it herself. Two years with a man like that had irrevocably changed her, she was the lamb to the slaughter no more.

“Right.” She tossed her cigarette to the floor, stomping her boot down on it, crushing it into the cement below. “Well, this ought to be interesting.” “Sure you can handle it?” The little added push, pressing her buttons and playing the right notes to get her to fall into step with him in this monstrous dance. She snapped back to looking at him, her glare easily conveyed how much she wished he’d piss off right about now. “Do you have any reason to doubt?” Rory had no fear of offering her own challenge towards him, she was one of the few who ever would.

He turned his head a little as if to shake it, his lips pursing slightly. “Never.” Reaching up, his calloused fingers wrapped in leather gloves brushed the wisps of smoke curling around her face away, and he gently tugged on the strand of hair clinging to her cheek, pushing it behind her ear. “Impossible to doubt ya, my girl.”

“Fucking hell,” Rory scoffed. “You are such a piece of work sometimes.” Shaking her head and shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, her eyes lifted to the ceiling with a heavy sigh. “Lead me to him, John.”

Tagging : @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042

@voidika @strangefable @direwombat @la-grosse-patate

@josephseedismyfather @statichvm @clicheantagonist @marivenah

@aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @hookhearted

@cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @finding-comfort-in-rain

@cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa

#wip wednesday #fic: evening of score #ship: you are the sword to my shield #oc: rory sinclair #john price

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