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tw1l1te · 7 months

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The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 10

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Angst, tension, violence

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Wars knew you were special, after all you were the one person in the group who wasn’t Hylian, much less some prophetic hero. But he knew you were more, your visual differences were just the top layer of your peculiarity.

At first, he was very wary of you and your presence. The hours spent examining you and talking to Time about your situation left him lost and frustrated beyond relief. You were strange, and he didn’t like it. He wanted to be nice, of course, he understood the fear and uncertainty you were feeling about the group, as he reciprocated the same feeling toward you: uncertainty and distrust.

Initially, he was hoping that you’d find your way home after a few weeks or months, brushing it off as another lost soul needing guidance and a hero’s promise. But that goal didn’t last long as it was over a year, bordering a year and a half and so much had happened. He felt like… the group wasn’t complete without you, as much as he hated to admit that.

You made the journey feel less depressing and burdensome. Every day was new and undiscovered with you, whether it be a new piece of your own life uncovered to them or a new joke you used, he was in awe.

…

He needed to tell you how he felt, and he wanted to as soon as you left the inn, giving himself an excuse to follow because you might be in danger. When he saw the Vet being there, he stilled. This was not the plan.

He watched the entire scene go down, wincing at your sharp tone, hoping nobody else woke up from that. A person or two shuffled in their sleep, but no one work up. Next thing he saw was you on Legend’s lap, both of you lost in each other.

He should have been happy for you two, Hylia knows Vet needed someone for ages. She owed him something for all the shit he’s been through… but why did it have to be you? Sweet, kind, beautiful you?

And… didn’t you already have something going on with Time and/or Twilight? Even possibly Sky?

Was this a ruse? Surely you wouldn’t be the type, no, you were smarter than that.

Right?

“And you’re sure this will work?” Time asked Wild.

Wild was readjusting his facial covering, sighing with annoyance, “For the last time, I’ve done this tens of times before. All I need from you and the rest of the group is to sit still at the Oasis while Y/n and I go talk to Riju in Gerudo Town. It’ll draw way too much attention if all of us come in, even if we got vai garb for you.”

“Right… how long do you think you both will take?”

“We should be back at the Oasis a little after sundown. We’ll take sand seals to get to the village, so the majority of the day will be spent talking to the Chief.”

Time nods, “Just be cautious, you never know who can pass the guards, even something as heavily guarded as Gerudo Town. I’d know.”

While Wild was talking to the old man, You were fastening your supplies onto your sash, going through your checklist of supplies.

You fidgeted with your necklace, tracing the Hylian insignia to calm you down.

Why the hell were you so nervous?

“You’re nervous.” Four stated, eyeing your necklace. You hum.

“We’ll be right here the entire day, waiting for you. Just stick with the Champion and you’ll be fine.” You nod, seems simple enough to follow.

With a few waves and nods, you and Wild were off on your Sand Seals, being the most efficient and quick way to reach Gerudo Town.

The wind was refreshing, despite the sun beating its rays down upon you, as if it was trying to test your limits of heat. Wild was practically showing off, doing twists and hops, just laughing at his own antics. You’ve shield surfed before, but having the extra pull and momentum gave an extra edge to the thrill.

Wind would love this. You’d have to show him when you got back that night.

Before you knew it, you and Wild approached Gerudo Town, handing off the reigns to a merchant and heading towards the two guards stationed in front of the main entrance.

“What is your reason of being here?” she asked, voice deep.

Wild looked at you, reminding you that you were the main spokesperson for today.

“Ah- right. We have an appointment with Chief Riju?”

The two guards give each other a glance before letting you in, your shoulders releasing the tension the second you passed the threshold.

Wild led you forward, pointing out a few stalls that you’d both check out later as he needed to restock on a few ingredients anyways. You saw a few jewelry and clothing stalls, and even a tattoo parlor that seemed brand new. You didn’t remember seeing it when you played through the game.

You felt Wild clasp your hand in his, leading you up the stairs to the throne room. You could hear a few voices talking, no doubt something related to your meeting.

“Ah! Link! There you are. And this must be your friend, Y/n. I’ve heard so much about you!” Riju exclaims, already making her way towards you.

You panicked, bowing to her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chief Riju.”

She waves her hands, “Oh please! There’s no need for such formalities, any friend of Link’s is a friend of mine. Please, just call me Riju.”

You stand up straight, nervously fumbling with your necklace again, a clear indicator that you were not the best at being social. How was Wild being so nonchalant?

“We came for the… updates. You mentioned in your letter something about the desert ruins and possibly the Yiga Clan?”

Letter? Wild never mentioned a letter-

“Ah, yes! Follow me, I have some information in my study. I sent you the letter months ago, but there’s been some developments…” she trailed off, leading you both to her room.

You gave him a look.

Why was everyone keeping things from you? First Legend now Wild…

What else do you not know?

“Like I was saying, we’ve found some old artifacts sticking out from the remains of the Arbiter’s Grounds. It doesn’t serve much purpose to us, but we thought you could take a look and see if its anything you might be booking for or might help.”

Riju handed Wild a flat object covered in a beige tarp. He untied the loose knot, uncovering the black slab of rock with familiar markings on it.

“That’s a piece of the Twilight Mirror. How…”

Riju looks at you, “Ah, so you do know what it is! I presumed it had something to do with the Twili tribe but I wasn’t sure. I should’ve known you would have found it familiar, after all you’re the hero’s guide.”

You hum, you were still getting used to the title. It didn’t sit right with you that people regarded you in such a high manner. It was unnatural, considering your background.

“Did you see any other possible artifacts or pieces of the mirror? The rest couldn’t have gone far.”

Riju sighs dejectedly, “No, unfortunately. The research team scouted out the ruins high and low and even dug under a few feet, but nothing came up. There were some markings on the old columns, but nothing noteworthy.”

She pauses for a moment before turning back to Link, “However, the Yiga Clan showed up halfway through the research, though not in a hostile manner. At least, not towards us. Toward Link, Y/n, and your group, rather. They mentioned something about hooded figures entering their hideout demanding your guide.”

Wild stiffens at that and turns to you, “Weren’t those the figures you were reading about?”

You nod. Shit, you left the book back at the Oasis. You always manage to forget something.

“Chie- Riju, did the Yiga mention anything about the hooded figures? Did they look peculiar or mention anything of importance?”

Riju thinks for a moment.

“One of the Yiga members did mention they wore full-length black robes, and had masculine voices. They also said one threatened a clan member using Fae magic, though Fae magic is almost unheard of, at least in this time period. I can’t offer much information right now, as I didn’t directly talk to the member, but I can corroborate with one of my guards that went on the short expedition and write down notes to mail to you.”

“That would be really helpful, thank you Riju.” Link states.

“Do you mind if we hold onto this mirror shard? It's small enough for us to travel with and it might prove to be useful in our… travels.” There was no easy way to put interdimensional and time travel into casual conversation, but Riju got the meaning behind his words.

“Yes, of course. I suggest wrapping it up in a tarp or cloth as this material is very peculiar and we don’t know what it's capable of.”

Link rewrapped the mirror shard, storing it in his Sheikah Slate. You’d have to examine it later, maybe take a closer look at the hieroglyphics if you can.

“I’ll have the guards escort you out, as I have a few more meetings to get to with a few ambassadors from outside of the desert. It was wonderful meeting you, Y/n. I do hope we meet again soon,” she said with a smile. You thanked her, waving goodbye as you and Link made your way back to the main plaza.

“I’m gonna go stock up on a few things. You can go look around if you want, just don’t leave without me.”

You nod wordlessly, meandering about the main square as you examine all sorts of wares. You didn’t have the chance to get a ton of rupees in a while, so you were a bit tight on what you could get, but you bought a small ruby ring for a certain bunny, as a small thanks for being vulnerable with you. It was nothing compared to what you wanted to verbally express to him, but it was just a small symbol of trust and appreciation.

Stuffing the ring into your pouch, you keep walking around the town, munching on a piece of Hydromelon. It was in season, so the flavors were bursting on your tongue.

You made your way around a corner, finding it to be a dead end. You were about to turn around to make your way back to the main square before someone wrapped their hand around your mouth, cutting off your terrified scream. Before you had the chance to blink, paper fluttered in front of your eyes, masking your vision.

All that was left in your place were a few, red paper rectangles, signaling a Yiga clan member had trespassed Gerudo walls: an invasion.

The sun had set almost two hours ago and the chain was starting to get on edge.

“They’re taking too long.”

“They should’ve been here by now. Where are they?”

The younger members were starting to pick up on both of your absences, thoughts already assuming the worst. Wild was capable of handling his safety, but you? As much as they liked to think you’ve gotten experience and plenty of training from each of them, you could have been harassed, cornered, kidnapped, killed-

Everyone snapped their heads to the sound of violent panting, already knowing its Wild.

Wars ran up to him, gripping his arm to support Wild.

“Where is she, Wild. She should’ve been with you-”

“-They took her.”

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#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe au

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foxglovethicket · 7 months

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Wild Things

Summary:

Some Nesta x Rhysand for day 7 of @sjmromanceweek !

Devour me, he used to urge her. Devour me, Nesta.

I love you so.

Devour me.

She would nip at the tips of his fingers in play, pretending to be a little feral thing. And he would pretend not to see the wildness in her eyes and dripping from her hair and glinting off her canines when she smiled one of her rare open-mouthed smiles.

(AKA, the toxic Nesta x Rhys fic that has been rattling around in my brain for months)

Chapters: 1/1

Read on AO3

November 11th. The first snow of the year numbs Velaris like novacane.

White snow, white sky, white salt on the roads. Clean and blank and pure for a new year—her twenty-fourth, as of sometime mid-morning. Upon waking, shivering under her dove-grey duvet, Nesta thinks: twenty-four is the year of not fucking things up.

The kitchen is the fire to her hearth. The spray of small yellow rosebuds in a vase on the island, Gwyn’s flame-lick of hair, Emerie’s embrace, the round smiles that fill their cheeks, the pastry waiting at her seat in a white bag, spots translucent with grease. It’s all warm. it all makes her blood move, down to her fingertips, where they prickle with feeling.

***

Want is a funny thing. The question—what do you want?—I want, I want, I want, like a black hole eating the stars. Nesta wants a lot of things: to be warm, awake, clean and untouched like the snow on her bedroom windowsill.

Emerie and Gwyn had asked her months ago what she wanted to do today—today, she has some extra measure of choice, today she’s allowed to want a little harder.

Today, Nesta wants to read and she wants to dance. And she wants—

No. No. So they tuck their feet up on the couch and pile on the blankets and Emerie makes her hot chocolate just the way Nesta likes it and the next few hours are pages whispering as they are turned, steam rising from half-empty mugs, snow curling down outside the window.

***

It had ended just how it had started: cold wind whipping off the Sidra to slice their cheeks wide open. The first time, it made their mouths split into smiles; the last, into trebuchets of hurt. Neither of them is good at pulling punches. His coat was on her shoulders. He said something, then she, and it was suddenly a vile thing on her skin; she ripped it away and threw it down onto the rain-soaked cobblestones. She didn’t throw it over the bridge, into the river, because that would have been irreversible, but now, now, she wishes she had.

That was September, the last long day before time jumped back and the evenings stopped clinging to the sun.

You’re fucking mine, Nesta.

I’m fucking gone.

She doesn’t think about it. She ruined everything, and it didn’t matter, and she doesn’t think about it.

***

Anyways, she’s good at being fine. She’s twenty-four now and she’s going to be fine forever, starting now. Gwyn has a carefully curated getting-ready playlist blasting from her speaker as she curls her hair. Emerie bites her lip as she draws eyeliner across her lid. Nesta sips from a wine bottle as she stares at her jewelry box: there are the little pearl-drop earrings he gave her when they went to Adriata for a weekend in August. I know you already have a favorite pair of earrings, but I thought these could be nice for the Patron’s Gala, maybe. If you like them.

Nesta fishes them out of the drawer and puts them in. She looks at herself in the mirror until her eyes turn red, and then she drops them back in the jewelry box, and stabs large silver hoops through her ears instead.

She turns off the light in her room and goes to the kitchen. Carefully, she pours the rest of the bottle of wine into a plastic Mountain Dew bottle, sucking the spilled drops from her fingers like it’s precious, and not a fourteen-dollar bottle. She plucks her coat off the hook and her keys from the dish by the door.

The three of them are laughing and chattering as they leave the apartment; Gwyn threatens to buy her a birthday girl sash, Emerie says, I think it’s too late for that, Gwyn says, The party store on East 12th is open until 11, I checked. Nesta says, I will strangle you with your own sash if you even think about it. They only laugh at her threat, and she can’t keep her face from smiling, and it doesn’t even bother her when the snow at the curb smears over her boots. She’s untouched. She’s new. She’s only started learning how to live.

***

It doesn’t really matter how it ended. There one minute and gone the next. He was there and gone, there and gone, like seasons, like purity, like the flash of a camera imprinted on the back of your retinas, there, and there, and there, and gone.

So he’s gone. And good riddance.

She used to like to hold his hand. Liked the strong, slim bones of his fingers, the veins that crawled up the back of his hand; liked running her fingers over the scar on the knuckle of his ring finger. He had a freckle on the inside of his left wrist, too, one she liked to press her lips to. I love you so, she would whisper. I’ll eat you whole.

Devour me, he used to urge her. Devour me, Nesta.

I love you so.

Devour me.

***

They step inside the club and check in their coats and the music is so heavy she can feel it pressing right through her muscles and into her bones. She tips her head back. Her spine is one long bass note. Yes, yes, yes.

Bodies shift around her, swaying like stalks of kelp in a western current, and she, an otter twisting among them as she dances. Sleek and warm and with only one wild and carnal drive: hunger.

She wants to devour this scene. The red lights. The upward-reaching limbs. The abandon. The singing mouths, the smell of vodka, the smell of perfume and cologne that surges when pressed too closely among the others.

“11:11,” says Gwyn, not long after they arrive. “Make a wish.”

You already know what she wishes for.

Emerie hands her a shot instead of a birthday candle. It sears her throat and then lights her aflame and she throws herself back into dancing and dancing and oh, when she tilts her head back like this, baring her throat, she feels knifelike and untouchable and violent, like she could strangle the whole world in her fists.

She imagines it. Sinking her teeth in. Getting the snow banks messy. Starting everything over so she doesn’t have to make so many mistakes this time. Sometimes, when Nesta buys a new book, she’ll bring it on the train and accidentally bend a corner when she goes to shove it in her bag in her haste to get off at her stop. Later, she’ll look at the crease, run her finger over it as if she can smooth it away, and fight the urge to buy a whole new copy—one she hasn’t irrevocably marred. She never does buy a new one; she knows, on some level, that it’s ridiculous to even consider it.

No creases this year, she reminds herself. She’s drunk now. Half of her blood is vodka. The music goes even louder, like a reminder or a threat. Emerie is grinding up against a striking blonde girl now; Gwyn is making eyes at someone across the room, sweeping her hair off her collarbones like a challenge; Nesta feels a drop of sweat run down her temples and sucks more swollen air into her lungs, her body greedy for it in the club’s heat.

All the lights go gas-flame blue, and that’s when she sees him.

***

So it ended. Fine. But it had started once, too.

Nesta had been in ballet as a child—no surprise, considering her family: upper class in a pearl-necklaces-and-endive-salads way. Everything was satin slippers and hair slicked back too tightly into unforgiving buns, until her mother died when she was fifteen and her father didn’t care enough to make her continue taking classes. It left her with a lithe body, a hatred of the Nutcracker, and a severe case of perfectionism.

Her favorite show to dance had been Sleeping Beauty, so last winter, when she heard the Velaris Ballet was showing it, she went to see it twice. Once, with Gwyn and Emerie, and again with Elain, except Elain canceled last-minute and Nesta thought about canceling both their tickets and staying home, but didn’t.

So, of course. He picked up Elain’s ticket.

During the show, she could drink up the colorful dresses, the masterful dancing, the beautiful shapes the dancers’ bodies made as they moved gently across the stage. When intermission came, she had no such distraction. There was only the stranger sitting next to her in his night-black suit, and of course he was devastatingly beautiful, how could she not notice? Admiring him was inexorable.

She caught him admiring her right back—those dark blue eyes making a steady, unapologetic map of her face.

It happened in textbook steps, alarming in its simplicity, really: He introduced himself. They talked throughout the rest of intermission. At some point during the third act, his knee made its way to press against hers, and he didn’t pull it away, and she didn’t pull away, either. When the lights flooded back on, the spell broke, or maybe it was cast?, and he asked her if she’d like to see the Balanchine performance with him the following week, and she wrote her number on the back of his hand with a sharpie she’d found in her purse. He had beautiful hands, like a piano player, and she asked if he played, and he said Tchaikovsky was his favorite to play, it was why he liked coming to the ballet.

Several weeks later, she would lie with her head in his lap, those nimble fingers combing through her hair, and ask, Play for me?, and he would, and it would become her favorite sound. And after that, she would sometimes sit on the edge of the bench, or kneel beside it, or stand behind him as he played, and close her eyes and imagine herself moving to the sound. Pas de bourré, pirouette.

But not yet. That would come later.

***

She sees him and the world keeps moving, even though she feels like it shouldn’t. She sees him and the world doesn’t end. It should. It doesn’t.

A current of blue bodies around her. He swims right through them. She doesn’t look at Gwyn or Emerie when he reaches her because she doesn’t have to see their faces to know their reproach.

She’s been locked into those stunning eyes since she first caught them; in this blue light, they are so, so dark, like midnight, and just as devastating. And they devastate her, they do.

Nesta thinks, You can’t unruin this. She thinks it so loudly that there’s no way he doesn’t hear it. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. He just looks at her, and she just looks at him, and, light with drink, she sways with the other kelp, sways right into him.

She can smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s holding a drink—a gin and tonic. He always liked gin. Elderflower gin, something that sounded fairy-like and ancient, something that smelled divine and didn’t hurt going down. She takes the cup from his hand and downs half. It’s cheap; burns like hell. He takes it back. Holds her stare as he drinks down the rest and drops the cup on the nearest flat surface.

He’s already drunk; she can tell because his face is a little too devastated when he looks at her.

His hands on her waist. Her waist in his hands. His hips pressed to her stomach. Her stomach burning gas-flame blue.

Nesta, he mouths. His eyes drop to her lips. His forehead drops to touch her own, as if he could press a feeling straight from his mind into hers.

Don’t, she says. Or maybe she thinks it.

He kisses her.

She kisses him back.

It’s inevitable, after that.

Gwyn and Emerie don’t even bother to stop her. They know better. He leads her downstairs, to the front of the club. She collects her coat. She follows him out onto the snow-driven street. A fresh coat has fallen since she and her friends went inside those few hours ago. It makes her think of new slates and starting over.

It makes her think of the way her boots crush the powdery snowflakes to grey slush.

You can’t unruin this.

He lives close—close enough that they can’t justify anything other than walking. She doesn’t look over at him and he doesn’t take her hand as they walk, and it’s almost as if they’re colleagues, with this space between them. Space enough for her ghosting breaths to dissipate entirely before they could ever reach his face.

And then—the bridge. The quay. Inevitable, she knew it, knew they’d have to cross the slushy Sidra, but. But.

She can feel him looking at her.

They reach the middle of the bridge, and she can’t keep going anymore. She’s shaking, knees knocking together embarrassingly, like a child. Nesta stops and she turns and she looks at the snow on the bridge and hates it for how serene it seems.

“I missed you, Nesta,” he says.

Past tense. He doesn’t anymore. He has her now, is what he means. He won't let go again, not like last time.

“Are you cold?” he asks. “Do you want my coat?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head, still looking down at the snow. His shoes scuff the snow as he steps closer. He takes her in his arms and he is just as warm and comforting and safe as he ever was, and it makes her want to cry, but she doesn’t. She does let him hold her. Even though it makes everything worse.

Rhys tilts up her chin and she keeps her eyes closed. He kisses her, so gently at first that she shudders, and then her mouth opens to him like a rose, and she presses harder into him, and he isn’t gentle anymore.

Her lips, cracked from the cold, split and bleed when he bites into them, and their kisses change to copper.

***

Nesta threw up before their first date. She stood in front of her mirror, trying to like the grey dress she was wearing, but she started thinking that maybe a dress was too much, and then she envisioned herself sitting stiffly next to the man—Rhysand—for the whole two and a half hours, not looking at him, and the thought—the thought of the awkwardness made her physically ill. He wouldn’t like her anymore, and then she would never be able to go to the ballet again, and and and—

She threw up neatly into the toilet, flushed it, brushed her teeth, and left.

By the time she was walking up the steps to the theater, she was trembling like a fawn, but she needn’t have worried. He was charming—his hand holding the door for her, his hand steering her respectfully from the small of her back, his hand alighting on her knee during intermission and lingering there, light and steady, until the lights began to dim again and he pulled it away.

The second half of the performance, she watched him. The way his breath caught at the crescendo of a number. The way his fingers tapped on his thighs in time with the notes. The way the bare light that reached them from the stage cast a glowing outline around the beautiful parts of his face, which seemed to be all of them.

The ballet ended, and he invited her to get a late-night coffee; he knew a cafe, one run by real Italians, so she should know it was good. By midnight, she’d made him laugh so hard he’d choked on a sip of his cappuccino, and he had made her feel coltish and new and brilliant, and finally, entirely at ease.

He was always very good with prey.

***

Nesta isn’t prey. She has a mouth full of teeth and she uses them. He’d do well to remember that, for fuck’s sake.

She bites down too hard and Rhys makes a noise in his throat. She pushes him away and they stand there, panting, staring at each other.

“Nesta,” he says.

They stand on the bridge. The snow numbs sound, numbs hurt, numbs everything.

“Come home with me, Nesta,” he says.

She goes home with him.

***

He loved her too hard. Maybe that was the problem.

Rhys wasn’t clingy, desperate—nothing so plebian as that. It was more authoritative. More intense, like a bruise. He always, always wanted her. Sex, of course, but more than that.

When it was sex, it was hungry. It was always too much, and it was never enough. It hurt every time, but it was never painful. There was sweat and tangled hair and open mouths and tenderness, always, and gentleness, only sometimes, only after. His hands were always tight around some part of her flesh, as if he were afraid she’d disappear the moment he let go, as if he could have more of her if he held more tightly.

She could never stop herself from sinking her teeth in, anyways. His shoulder, his neck, his arms, his side. She’d never made a habit of it before. It was something primal only he could bring out in her.

When it wasn’t sex, it was a different kind of want. Uncontainable, devastating. He wanted her like it hurt him. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if he liked her. He just wanted her.

One hot day that summer: billowing, gauzy curtains, Nesta in those lavender sleep shorts he liked so much, the hair around Rhys’s temples curling with sweat. Still, he held her close against him as they lay on the couch, her stomach to his stomach, her chest to his chest, her chin tucked against his shoulder.

Nesta asked, “Why did you ask me out that day at the ballet?”

His arm banded around her more tightly. He said, “I liked the way you watched them. Hungrily. I wanted to make you look at me like that.”

***

They step inside Rhys’s townhouse and the familiar smell hits her like a truck. It’s just the smell of a home—a home he’s lived in. Recently, without her. She wonders if his coffee machine still refuses to work unless he thumps the side of it as it gets going. She wonders if he ever got around to replacing the batteries in his TV remote. She wonders how many other women he’s brought here since everything ended. Maybe he fucks them in their own houses. Maybe he brings them here, has them on the couch, pushes the dove-grey pillows to the floor to make room for their bodies. She can’t imagine him fucking them in his bed, or she’ll throw up right here on his doormat.

The door clicks behind her, shutting out the cold. The air inside is warm and still, waiting for something. His hand touches her waist, moves her until her back is against the wall, and she thinks this is it, this is the part where he kisses her and takes her apart—but not yet.

Rhys kneels on the floor, takes her calf in his hands and slips off her boots, one by one, setting her feet down gently as if she were a child, or a queen. Something precious and vulnerable.

His soft fingers, piano-player’s fingers, trail up her body as he rises, hitching her dress up with them. She knows how this ends and it hurts. He kisses her wet cheekbones, one and the other.

“Nesta,” he says. He kisses her lips and she tastes salt.

She sinks her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulls him closer.

Their kisses get harder, serious. She hitches her leg around his hips, presses into him—his beautiful fingers are everywhere. They tangle in her hair and pull her head back so he can better lick her throat. They count her ribs, looking for a way in. They move over her hips, down, cleverly stroking the wet seam of her underwear, starting out gentle, just how he knows she likes it.

She reaches for his belt. She wonders, where will he have her? Will he bring her to the couch? Will he have her right here, against the wall? Will he take her back to his bed, or would that mean to much?

Rhys shudders into her touch, eyes rolling back. His mouth is saying things like Fuck, Nesta, I missed you, yes, harder, more, Nesta, Nesta, Nesta—

He chokes on his own breaths and pulls her hands away. With a few tugs, her dress is over her head, and he sinks to his knees again. She looks off to the side, towards the door, not wanting to face the way he looks up at her. Devotion poisoned by possession. His hands are hot on the backs of her thighs.

“Look at me, Nesta,” he orders. He pulls her underwear away—embarrassingly wet. The expression that flits across his face then—it’s a bit too relieved to be a smirk, but close.

She puts her hands into the silky onyx strands before her.

“Eat, then,” she says, unkindly.

He does. Like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. Like he’s afraid she’ll stop him, take it away from him. She wishes she would, but she doesn’t. She’s too weak to give up something this good. Something that feels so inevitable—what’s the use?

Nesta comes right there, silently, except for one gasping breath that she immediately stifles. It’s horrible, it’s so, so horrible, how badly she misses him in that moment. It hits her, a pain so sharp she nearly flinches. It’s so horrible. So obvious, how he’s ruined her.

A tug on the backs of her knees, and her body falls obediently to straddle him where he kneels on the floor, her lips coming to meet his, hungrily taking the taste of herself from his tongue. He pulls her back, back, until he’s lying flat on the floor of the hallway, and she’s sitting over him, fumbling to yank off his shirt, to shove down his pants. Her body remembers how to move with him, remembers the steps to this. It remembers, even if her mind feels heavy and watered-down.

There is a bright spark of pain as she sinks down onto him. Rhys looks up at her from the floor. His eyes glint like a country sky at night, his sin-dark hair splays across the floor like a sunburst, his mouth parts like submission.

Nesta takes his throat in her hands and squeezes. “I hate you,” she tells him, and he lets her. Her knees press into the hardwood. He jerks his hips up with a groan. She says, “I hate you, Rhys.”

She feels a tightness in her throat that means tears. She won’t cry. She lets go of his neck and bites into her palm to hold them at bay. She won’t cry, she won’t cry. Her fingerprints fade whitely from his skin.

Rhys flips them over and settles his body over hers, between her knees. He fits in her body like he’s made for her. Her head fits just so in the space between his neck and his shoulder. She breathes him in through her nose, out through her mouth, as he begins to fuck her. He had always smelled so good, like something she shouldn’t eat. Sweet and rich, with some kind of spicy undertone, like pepper or ginger. Achingly sweet with a stinger.

Rhys takes her hand away from her mouth and pulls her wrists over her head.

“You love me, Nesta, you love me so,” he says. He threads his fingers in between hers. “You love me so.”

***

Nesta closes her eyes as he washes her hair in the shower.

“Nesta,” he says, smoothing soap away from her brow. “Stay.”

She tilts her head up, but doesn’t open her eyes. “You keep saying my name,” she says.

She can feel the sigh come out of his chest. He says, “I’m afraid I’ll forget how it sounds.”

In spite of her will, her body begins to tremble. Anger and fear and rage and desperation all well up at once, and her eyes fly open, lashes dripping under the stream of the shower, and she means to say a hundred things—a hundred accusations and castigations—but only a single word comes out, choked in steam. “Please.”

His face changes into a shape she doesn’t know well. “Nesta,” he breathes, pulling her body into his.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, she thinks. But she lets him towel her dry and brush out her hair and braid it down her back with his nimble fingers, the way she taught him, once. He pulls one of his t-shirts over her head—her favorite one, god, she hates that she has a favorite—and tucks her close to him under the covers. His sheets smell like his detergent and him, and it’s miserable, knowing he’s letting her go after this, even though that’s what she wanted in the first place. Catch and release. You can’t uncrease a paperback cover. You can only buy a whole new book.

God. Twenty-four hours as a twenty-four year old and she’s already fucked everything up. She’s already let him ruin her.

They lie there in his bed in his sheets in his townhouse on the river. She’s still drunk. She’s still here. His heart is still beating just a few ribs away from hers. She counts those beats, those bloodier sheep. One-one. One-one. One-one. One-one.

She’s not entirely sure if she’s dreaming when he says it. She hopes she is. She wishes so badly that she is.

I won’t go, he promises into the dark, into the sweet warmth. Just eat me whole.

***

Snow falls overnight.

In the morning, when Nesta looks out Rhys’s window, her eyes hurt to touch anything at all, it’s so bright.

He is behind her, suddenly. His arms come around her, his chest pressing to her back. He fits. It is suddenly, terrifyingly, as if she never left.

“Nesta,” he says, one last time.

She turns in his arms, fitting herself into the crooks of his body. She is real, she is new, she is blinding like the pure fallen snow.

Nesta makes a decision.

“Rhys,” she answers, speaking against his heartbeat.

When she smiles up at him, secretive and small, her ribcage opens up and curls around him like the legs of a spider.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #nesta x rhysand #rhysta #rhysta fic #can we all be normal about rhysta today? pls and thx #sjmromanceweek2024 #sjmromanceweek

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shakespearefreak · 6 months

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🎂 🎉 ¡Feliz Cumpleaños, Josefina! 🎉 🎂

For Josefina’s birthday, I learned The Birthday Song in Spanish and sang it to her (in very awkward, halting Spanish, despite having practiced a dozen times). Luckily, she was very patient with my hesitations, false starts, and mispronunciations. Then she opened her gift: her mother’s mantón and fan from her Heirloom Accessories set! It was a small celebration, but fun. I also did her hair in her ribbon braided birthday style, and I think it ended up the best it’s looked so far in my three years celebrating her birthday as an adult! 🥳

(Photos look a little weird and blurry because I was experimenting with my new phone camera)

On her bed, Josefina discovered a gift wrapped in pretty turquoise paper with colorful butterflies on it. The turquoise reminded her of her skirt and slippers, and it was even tied with a gold ribbon, reminiscent of her orange sash!

She carefully untied the ribbon. “I wonder what it is?” She tried to be careful with the paper, too, but she was too eager and ripped it. (Marley told her not to worry about it.)

“Mamá’s fan! And her shawl, too! ¡Muchísimas gracias!”

“Try them out!” Marley urged. “Let’s see how you look!”

“I feel so fancy and grown-up!” Josefina said as she slipped the silky gold shawl around her shoulders and fanned herself with the delicate black lace fan. “And it’s wonderful to have something of Mamá’s to wear on this special day…” then she touched the choker around her neck, which Marley had made themself from an old bracelet and an amber sun pendant, and continued: “...but it’s nice to have something of yours, too! It’s like my old life and my new, coming together. Gracias de todo corazón — thank you with all my heart!”

#american girl #american girl doll #josefina montoya #happy birthday josefina!#doll photography #dollblr

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professionalakazasimp · 1 year

Text

Douma x Reader

Part 6

-Interactive game-

[AFAB reader]

Choice made:

"Agree but insist on knowing what he needs you for"

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, brief mention on corpses, messed up thoughts in general lmao

"I'd like to come with you, but I really need to know where we're going first." Your voice had a hint doubt and suspicion.

"Ah, this is a stubborn one." He thought to himself. He couldn't say he felt upset about it. Heck, he couldn't feel anything about it. Though he was a little amused to see you act all careful while already being his prisoner, his slave.

Though he couldn't just straight up tell you the truth to where he was taking you or what he was going to do to you, that would really make you fussy for sure.

"Aw, dear, but that'll ruin the surprise, will it not?

It really saddens me that even though I've done so much for you, you still don't trust me even a little."

You were dumbstruck, him saying this, it leaves you no choice. If you apologize and still wish to know more, it'd put a bad impression on him and he might even kick you out sooner, but if you do go—

You shake your head, repeating to yourself in your mind that if Douma had any bad intentions, he would've already done them, since you were just a defenseless, injured person at an unknown location.

"Ah sorry, I have trust issues because of past incidents. You don't need to tell me where we're going. I'll come along." You finally respond.

The fly really flew right into the web, huh?

"That's great! And it's okay, I wasn't upset anyway." He replied in a cheerful manner.

"I'll send you some nice clothes to wear soon. Be ready by 9, alright?"

He asked, but left before even hearing your answer. That's okay, you wouldn't have been able to answer him anyway. You were too busy processing what just happened.

~•◇•~

The sun went down, as did Douma down the staircase. He is a demon, and he has his own set of "responsibilities", but he doesn't really care. He wanted to have fun with you instead.

His plan for you was to take you to that one part in the forest he threw all the remains of his meals. It was quite a beautiful spot if you ignored the rows and piles of ribs, skulls and other bones.

He couldn't wait to see your reaction. It'll be so funny and cute, at least for him. It wasn't his fault he found it amusing to do this.

He wondered if you'd be terrified, traumatized, angry or all three.

Well, doesn't matter, all of them are entertaining reactions.

He'd decide whether to eat you, let you live or do something else to you after that and he had quite a few ideas.

~•◇•~

Some time passed and you finally got those clothes he was talking about.

A woman wearing a plain white kimono, with her hair tied into a bun brought it for you. She was weirdly quiet like the rest of the people here, and by "rest", you mean that one man you saw talking to Douna a while ago. There weren't many people here were there? Or maybe there were but you never got to speak to them.

Even after you thanked the woman in a cheerful voice, she simply nodded with her head facing facing downward and left. How strange.

"Woah..." you mumbled while inspecting the clothes sent to you. This was expensive stuff.

It was a red kimono with blue and purple lotus patterns in what seemed like water at the bottom. There was a blue sash with it too. It was really sweet to the eyes.

You wondered again why Douma was doing this for you. Could it be that...he likes you romantically? You really don't have many complaints if that's the case. You're willing to give it a shot.

You look at the clock on the wall, its 8:36 pm. You rush to get ready with what time you had.

~•◇•~

Finally out of the unguarded confines of your room, you walk around the mansion. It was kind of eerie despite being so clean and well kept. It had a few bright lights on the ceiling right above the hall accessible through the double staircase. Other than that, there were a few dim lanterns here and there.

Even though it wasn't wrong for you to be here, you felt like a princess trying to escape her prison in an unknown territory like in the books you often read. Maybe it was like that. You knew absolutely nothing right now. Not even knowing where to go from here or where Douma was.

#kny x reader #demon slayer #kny douma #kny x y/n #douma imagine #douma x reader #douma kimetsu no yaiba #kimestu no yaiba #douma x you #yandere douma

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sovawife · 6 months

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THE RUSSIAN GUY FOR VALORANT I FORGOT HIS SAME FROM VALORANT

i cant believe u forgot his name bro.....

-What made me like them

I will be so real I have liked this man since like 2022 or something like that but I never acted on it because I just never bothered to. Also because you liked him Merlin so I didn't want to overstep LOL BUT THINGS HAVE CHANGED HOLY SHIT. either way my hyperfixation from yone started to shift and my brain just randomly decided to latch onto him even tho HE WAS LITERALLY AT THE BACK OF MY BRAIN MY BRAIN REACHED SO FAR AND GRABBED HIM OUT OF THE DARK RECESSES. AND HERE WE ARE. JFC/lh

-My favorite thing about them

He is very kind and considerate towards others! He's very praising towards his friends and super friendly in general and I think it's nice :) also he's pretty :')

-Nicknames we have for each other

Spectrum calls him Sash (short for Sasha), dear, honey, sweetie, and also goofy names sometimes like snookums. I think Sova calls him my dear, my love, sunshine, my sun, my light- but they also call each other stuff in Russian/Mandarin bc they both speak the languages lol

-A headcanon of our relationship/friendship

Sova has tried to teach Spectrum how to use his bow, he's not very good at it but he's trying :')

-My favorite image of them

this one :)

-Anything else!

ummm we need to kiss and marry (we are already married)

#srry. im insane #sorry this took forever to answer i got distracted #MGKDSGKds #ky shut up #my post #ship: walk on memories #i love gay people!!!!

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papakhan · 1 year

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How about formal and change for the character of your choosing :3

Hii I escaped traffic hell and now I'm here to answer :) I think I will do Sun because he's my best boy <3

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

Sun has a love hate relationship with dressing up fancy. He likes dressing fancy but it has to be on his terms, if he's told "you have to wear xyz" he'll get pissed but if he knows he's got the opportunity to dress nice he'll take it. There's also the fact that Khan formal wear looks different to say what the White Glove Society wants. The Khans kind of reject decadence so Sun's Khan formal wear is like, draped in fur overtop of his regular clothing, with his hair tied out of his face and maybe a dyed red drape or sash or something, he doesn't really what to draw unnecessary attention to himself nor upstage papa, but this would be like if he was sent as a formal emissary somewhere. However in his house au his formal outfit for visiting the other families is a gaudy Red sequinned suit with like flames embezzlement made with rhinestones with his hair down. Something totally over the top and LOUD louder then Benny because what he needs is to be memorable both to intentionally upstage the families and house and to make it look like he's playing along

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Sun used to have fairly short hair as a little child (more manageable in Papa's point of view) but started to experiment as he grew up and was offered more agency with his looks. Obvs he settled on long flowing hair, he just likes the options it gives him and is maybe a bit of a rebellious kickback on the lingering New Khan culture of hating on anything even remotely feminine like art or long hair. Other big changes to his appearance would def be his tattoos which he loves and his missing finger which he feels very mixed about. His tattoos are much more on whims but when he takes over from Papa he will get the skeletal hand aka the Death Hand tattoo which obs has more meaning and significance as leader of the Khans, in my hc its one of the few things people know about the original death hands appearance :) I do have the imagine of leader!Sun in my mind tho I havent drawn it but that also contains a drastic look change of his hair turning totally white but I guess that's not really his choice It just kinda happens to him

Bonus Dusty because he's slightly more relevant: Dusty started to bleach his hair blond to Obscure his identity and in my og universe where he came from unnatural hair colour is a sign of a magic user so he dyes his hair blond so people don't know he's magic <3

#Txt #Thank you I'm sorry its late 😭#Oc tag: Sun #Oc tag: Dusty Colter

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angel-0f-verdun · 2 years

Text

07 Murderess

Previous Chapter

The wind chilled my bones as I followed Evy through the many vendor shops in this little town. The wet clothes on my body made everything that I was feeling worse at that moment. I felt naked without my hijab, I wore it because those who are native to Egypt always had a way of staring me down, I couldn't describe the feeling it gave me. Though I had experienced this one too many times when I was trying to find my brother. This is one of the reasons I preferred to travel at night, I didn't want to see the stares I knew were on my back like a target. Evy didn't seem to notice the stares I was receiving, just as I was debating stealing a hijab from the vendor we were passing Evy pulled us into a tent. The feeling immediately dissipated. She spoke to the ladies telling them what we needed and handed them the money before I could even have a second to think about it, I was surrounded by women.

They stripped my body of my wet clothes that were sticking to my skin and put me in a silky see-through dress with a halter neckline that crossed over itself in the front and clasped at the back of my neck. They placed an ornate black corset on me, which I wasn't expecting, the silver inlay was gorgeous. It was still a light and breezy outfit and the ladies made sure I could breathe in the corset. The final touch was a veil, the silver on mine shown in the sun catching the light beautifully. Although it was not my usual pick the mirror in front of me made me look like a dark entity. I was impressed with the stoic woman looking back at me in the mirror, she seemed powerful. For the first time, I smirked at myself in the mirror and she did the same. The moment passed quickly as Evy grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the shop, I barely had time to thank the ladies that gave us the clothes. I looked at Evy as she discretely asked me how she looked. They had clothed her with the same beautiful silk that I had on, however, her dress almost seemed goddess-like, unlike mine which matched the dark aura I felt around me constantly. The dress wrapped around her figure with a sash of coins that accentuated her body. She looked stunning, the veil they placed around her face was see-through and beaded with gold sparkles, it emphasized the makeup around her eyes.

"Prepare yourself for my brother's reaction," I mumbled into her ear. She giggled at that, and I smiled at her encouragingly. They really would make a cute couple. We walked toward the camel vendor where Jonathan was shouting at the man that he only wanted 5 camels. Rick yelled something at Jon as he grabbed the reins and started directing the camels toward us.

"You probably could have got them for free, all we had to do was give them your sister." He mumbled to Jon.

"Yes, awfully tempting wasn't it?" Jon chuckled back at him. Rick looked up seeing Evy and me for the first time.

"Awfully..." Rick breathed out, I rolled my eyes at the cheesy moment that they were sharing, going to the camel I had decided was mine and mounted up, pulling my body over the huge animal. I patted its neck while the others mounted their own camels. The morning sun was rising into the sky as we made our way out of the town. The warden had caught up to us, unfortunately, he survived the boat incident. I was less than satisfied with that, but he would be dead soon. I shook my head, how did I know that? It was like there was another voice in my head that said that.

"Never did like camels, filthy buggers, they smell, they bite, they spit" Jonathan complained, I sighed feeling the rays of the sun hit my body attempting to ignore him.

"I think they're adorable" Evy smiled leaning forwards to pet hers on the head. Just at that moment the man who was annoying me the most started singing a song. I tried not to let it bother me, feeling the heat that the black silk soaked up on my body, I was nice and warm. I held onto that feeling happily letting my mind drift back to a time when I was a teenager, before I knew it I was asleep in a dream.

Rick and I were teens, trying to make it on our own as we had been kicked out from the orphanage in Cairo after turning 16. I remember I was about 14 years old at the time and had no idea what was happening, Rick was 16 at the time and he was trying to show them that he was able and willing to take me on as his responsibility. This was far from the truth, but as he said, we must stay together. From there on out he was considered my guardian. The orphanage did not put up much of a fight as they were ready to be rid of us, we were quite the troublemakers inside. There was no telling what we would get up to outside these walls.

It wasn't long before we realized that the only way to live was to earn money. Or I should say steal money, it wasn't too hard once we met Izzy Buttons. Rick learned quickly the ways of a con artist. It wasn't hard considering Rick was growing into his looks. The women fawned over him and men wanted to be him. It wasn't until a bank job in Marrakesh that we had more than enough money to live in an apartment. Rick had become overly enthused with a girl he had met, I could never remember her name. But I wasn't even with him at the time, I was with Izzy, and we were flying in his airplane. The job itself was simple Rick would go in rob the bank and hopefully get out unscathed based on what he called "intelligence" although we all knew he was going to try to bribe them with his stupid eyes. I would never understand his obsession with himself. Izzy and I had been instructed to hide in the sun, when Rick gave the signal we would then fly in low for the pickup. When we did, there was trouble, a few of those who were securing the area had shot Izzy, and he tumbled out of the plane, which wasn't too terrible considering he had flown us in a bit too low for my liking. I managed to maneuver the plane out of sight and land not too far away. By the time I had walked myself back to Izzy with some medical supplies. Rick was waltzing up with some belly-dancer girl, money in hand. She probably thought she was going to get a cut of the money but there would be hell to pay if she thought that.

I awoke late in the night; my camel had moved its way toward Ricks and I knew this was my opportunity if I wanted to let him in on what was happening with me. I debated the idea in my head not sure if I really wanted to bother him with the silliness that I thought was actually happening. If it happened again, it would be something to mention. The camel that Rick was riding groaned next to me alerting me that it was time to announce that I was awake.

"How much further?" I whispered to my brother.

"Not too far," he said looking around the darkness around us. I knew better than to ask him what was wrong.

"Someone's following us," He said as he nodded his head towards the ridge. There were at least ten figures on horses just observing us as we traversed the desert.

"They seem peaceful, no need to start the theatrics just yet" I whispered back to him. Feeling around for my bag that Rick had gathered from our room before the ship went to hell. He had strapped it to the back of my camel, I assume while I was sleeping. I slowly rooted around in there, searching for one throwing knife. I found one and pulled it out hiding it within my sleeve.

"I agree, let them be" He nodded. I enjoyed the silence for a while before Jonathan whacked the warden with his crop for snoring too loudly near his ear. I released the veil from its hold near my ear and let it drop down. I took a deep breath taking in the crisp cool air. It was refreshing, like a cool drink on a summer day. All too quickly the night faded away and the orange of the sky replaced it. We started to come up near a dome-looking rock formation. I saw the Americans and Beni slowly walking up toward us as well.

"Good morning my friend" Beni shouted to us. A growl emanated deep within my throat. It was a sound I didn't even know I made until Rick looked at me with eyes of concern. The sheer amount of horses the group had was inconceivable.

"What the hell we doing??" Henderson asked Beni clearly not used to living in the moment, always looking for the next thing.

"Patience, my good barat'm, patience." Beni chiding him, I wanted to rip his head off.

"Remember our bet O'Connell, first one to the city, 500 cash bucks." I rolled my eyes, this man really had no manners, he was chewing on something too loudly and talking as if he had too much spit in his mouth.

"100 of them bucks is yours if you help us win that bet," one American I had played cards with said directing his attention to Beni. I remembered him briefly sitting across the table from me. He reminded me of a snail.

"Oh, my pleasure" Beni replied. Rick's camel let out a groan and Beni decided to capitalize on the opportunity.

"Hey O'Connell, nice camel" Rick smirked and patted its head. He didn't even grace Beni with a reply.

"Get ready for it." He muttered to us.

"For what?" Evy asked him looking from the direction we were about to travel in towards Rick.

"We're about to be shown the way." He explained to her. As we waited the sun rose quickly over the desert. It created a sort of mirage, showing the rocks that were hidden prior.

"Will you look at that?" Henderson breathed out.

"Can you believe it?" The American said.

"Hamunaptra" Burns smiled.

"Here we go again." Rick groaned. The sun glinted on what I assumed was a golden statue inside the city. The yelling started quickly after as we started to race towards the city on our camels and horses.

"Zig zig zig zig hut hut hut" I heard Evy uttering to her camel to get him to move fast. I started clucking hoping that it worked like a horse. I ended up near Beni and Rick. Beni was hitting his camel with his crop very hard, I could see why it didn't want to obey him. As soon as he started hitting my brother I knew my opportunity had come. I brought my camel closer to him, it felt as though a force overtook my body I brought the knife I had hidden in my sleeve early out into view. I slashed specifically at Beni's forearm creating a parallel cut that would stun him enough to stop whacking my brother. It wasn't just a scratch, it was a deep cut that I knew would hurt and need stitches for. Blood poured out from the wound I had caused. I smiled at him as his eyes met mine he gasped, almost as if he saw something else beneath my irises. He was trying to grab the scarf from around his neck to staunch the bleeding. Before he had the option, Rick pulled him from his camel and threw him to the ground. He ducked and covered as he hit the ground rolling away from us as his camel started to run away from him.

"Serves you right," Evy said to him as she watched what had happened. Rick caught up to me as I had flown past Beni's camel.

"What the hell was that??" He asked me.

"Punishment," I replied to him nonchalantly.

"We'll talk when we win this bet," Rick said sternly to me. As Evy caught up to us she kept chanting her little diddy to make her camel go faster. She and Rick shared a smile and the camel groaned loudly galloping towards the city of Hamunaptra.

"Wooo!!! Go Evy, Go!!" Jonathan happily cheered his sister on, and just like that we had won the bet leaving the American's in our dust.

Next Chapter

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pixeletinha · 3 months

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Part of the legacy without screenshots

Next day Thea had a big day ahead of herself. The French sun pierced through my eyes when my big sister set aside the cape of the tent. The air was suffocating, it felt like a sahara. ,"Ughh" I grunted after I looked at the time and hid my head under a pillow. It was 7AM, I knew that I would not be able to sleep after that, especially when I was even warmer than I was before. To be fair it wouldn't be Thea if she would not wake up several hours earlier before the actual date to slightly freak out and manage everything on time.

I did not have the energy to chase after my big sister and check up on her, I was just laying on my back in my underwear staring at the top of the tent. Contemplating on when I will be at the point of finding the suffocating heat annoying. Suddenly I heard footsteps coming towards the tent, I took out my tank top and quickly pulled it on and sat on the tough mattress. "Bonjour" Thea said when she pulled aside the cape, she was holding two coffee cups and a bag of freshly baked muffins. The smell was so satisfying, it made me smile. "Ugh the air here is disgusting" she grunted and shook her head. "Come on out, let's have breakfast" she said and then disappeared, I took out shorts from my bag and then I crawled out from our tent. The other travellers were slowly getting up as well, wandering around the camping ground. Thea sat on a bench that was placed between the large beautiful trees that were on the other side of the ground. I stretched and semi-loudly yawned and walked over there. "Such a nice morning right?" she said when I approached her. She was slowly sipping on the coffee and took bites from the muffins.

The funny thing about Thea is that she always eats sweets when she is nervous. She always used to say that it calms down her nerves ever since she was a teenager. Thus it was an indicator that her heart is pumping like a drum and her mind is all over the place. I sat down next to her and looked inside the bag with muffins "Yum, blueberry" Yup, the café just pulled them out of the oven when I got there" Agh" I happily sighed and took a bite. The taste was amazing, the dough was so soft and the berries were sweet. It was the perfect way to start Sunday morning "Have I won the best sister award" she laughed when she looked at my face full of ecstasy. "Maybe.." and then we laughed. "Can I have a question, Sash?" she said when I was sipping on the coffee, I nodded and looked her way "Do you think this is a bad idea? Me meeting with Jules" I think you are trying to observe your options, there is nothing wrong about that If you are unsure about your relationship with Cal. Maybe it will help you figure out how you actually feel." she smiled and I put my hand on hers “Don’t worry, I am not going to think you are a bad person after this” she scoffed and I joined her. Then we hugged each other “What would I do without you little sister” she scoffed again and hugged me tighter. “You know that i am always here for you” I said softly and then looked in her ocean blue eyes full of joy and warmth. She then softly slapped her thighs and stood up “Well I am going to prepare!” I was still sitting cross-legged enjoying my breakfast so I nodded at her, she waved at me and then she took her flip-flops in her hands and walked across the ground bare-foot “Good luck!!” I yelled with a full mouth and she waved again. All that food and good coffee made me forget about what I am going to do today. Thea is going to be presumably the whole day with Jules, so it will be some ‘me’ time for me.

That thought terrified me for a second, as I was in a foreign country without speaking the language. However, then it occurred to me that I have not lost my game and body language is the most important language of them all. I smiled when it crossed my mind and then took the last bite of my muffin.

#Aleksandra Wilkins #the wilkins legacy #twg2 #the sims 3 #the sims community #theodora wilkins #sims 3 community #sims 3 legacy #ts3 gameplay #ts3 simblr #ts3 community #ts3 legacy #ts3 #sims3 #sims 3 blog #thesims3 #sims 3 screenshots #tw: infidelity

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vanillann · 2 years

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SCREAMING COLOR- (S.HARRINGTON X FEMALE!READER)

SUMMARY: “the rest of the world was in black and white but we were in screaming color” -taylor swift

WARNING: swearing, tooth rotten fluff, blood

WC: 4.8K

A/N: thank god this is finally posting, i hope you enjoy it!

Orange- “excitement, warmth, youthful”

Steve Harrington was depressed. Well he supposed he was depressed, he didn’t really know what the word meant but he’d heard his dad say it enough to use context clues.

He’d have to tell Mrs. Harper that he was using context clues outside his second grade classroom.

So, Steve had decided he was depressed when his orange popsicle fell into the sand at the playground. The frozen, flavored water was forming a small pool at his feet and ants were starting to surround him. Great, Steve hated ants and now he had a bunch of ants and no popsicle.

“I wanna go on the swing!”

The voice was loud, screaming over the loud gust of the Indiana winds during late summer, and coming closer to the newly depressed Steve. He’d wish everyone would go away, including the ants, so he could cry about his fallen popsicle in peace. Okay, he might not cry but he definitely wanted to throw a tantrum without anyone watching.

“Nobody else wants to swing (Y/N)!” Another voice, moving away from Steve thankfully, screamed almost just as loud. Steve heard the faint sound of giggles and feet running away and he hoped everyone had left.

“Are you staring at me?”

Steve wobbled on the swing when he realized she was talking to him, her eyes glittering under the harsh sun of the day. Steve thought she had really nice eyes, which made the lion look much better.

“I-I’m sorry, I was looking at your face paint I swear!”

“My mom couldn’t get a real painter,” she mumbled softly under her breath into her birthday sash that Steve was just now noticing hung around her frame. How did he miss the long bright yellow sash that clung to the small child?

“I think it looks cool,” Steve was never very good at lying so he hoped the glitter in her eyes would hide his embarrassed flushed cheeks well enough. Steve took a loud exhale when she only huffed out a thank you, kicking her feet aggressively to make the swing glide through the air.

“I bet I can go higher!”

Steve started kicking his feet, enjoying the way the wind breezed over his exposed ankles as she gained some momentum. The lion beside Steve started arguing, aggressively kicking as she told him off. Soon the two were flying like birds migrating, childhood giggles making the once dead park feeling lively again.

“I’m going to jump!” Steve yelped, wasting no time as she let his small fingers loosen their grip on the thin metal chain holding him up.

“You can’t! You’ll die!”

Steve only laughed, finally making the leap from the red plastic swing with a loud battle cry. The wind whipped his hair around his face, getting slightly into his mouth as he descended to the ground only a foot or so from the set. As he collapsed to the ground, he heard the lion roar in horror. She was worried for him.

Steve never had anyone worry about him when he jumped from the swing sets, not even his mother as he almost broke a bone one time. Everyone always let Steve jump telling him it looked awesome as he hit the rough dirt. Nobody ever worried as Steve's ankle or back would always be a little sore after the fact. He liked that someone worried about him, he liked hearing her roar after him.

“No!” The girl collapsed in the sand beside Steve, her tiny hands grabbing his shoulder and shaking him so hard his head fell back into the dirt.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Steve’s own hands found her shoulders, smiling up at her with all the charm a second grader could muster.

“You can’t do that, I don’t like watching my friends get hurt.”

“I’m your friend? You don’t even know my name or anything about me,” Steve sat up, grinning as he looked down at the girl with pride rolling from his shoulders. He liked being taken care of, it made him feel extra special.

“What’s your name?”

“Steve.”

“I’m (Y/N) and now I know your name is Steve and I know you were sad when I came over here. I was sad too, then we swung together and we weren’t sad so, yeah friends.”

Steve didn’t think it was supposed to be that easy. He thought you’d need to know everything about someone to be friends, that's why he didn’t have any, but the more he thought about her words the more it made sense. He supposed you couldn’t know everything about some unless you shared the first details.

“I was sad cause I dropped my orangesicle,” Steve pointed to the pool of orange liquid that was not far from (Y/N)’s shoe, which had little ants floating in the once delicious cold dessert.

“Ew!” (Y/N) jumped into Steve's side, hoping to separate herself from the public pool that Steve had accidentally opened. Steve smiled when her shoulder smashed into his, both as close as two second graders had been without a fight.

“I’ll get you a new popsicle, just don’t eat that one,” (Y/N) stood in a hurry as she dragged Steve from the sand. Her feet kicked up chucks of sand and she almost tripped three times before Steve actually stood up.

“Where are we going?”

“My birthday party, we have a bunch of orangesicles! I don’t really like them so you can have them all and get your face painted!”

Steve normally wouldn’t trust someone who didn’t like orangesicles, they were the best sickle in the whole pack, but as she smiled over her shoulder at him with that goofy lion clinging to her figures, he knew he could trust her.

(Y/N) (L/N) managed to fix Steve Harrington depression, for the first time.

Green- “soothing, jealousy, hope”

Steve Harrington was so anxious it was making him depressed.

The entire Hawkins High Basketball team had left him to wallow in his own anxiety as they prepared for the big game tonight. Steve was the youngest on varsity, being a freshman and everyone else an upperclassman. His entire high school career would be based on his performance tonight, so no pressure at all.

“Steve?”

The door to the locker room swung open, a loud thud as it slammed into the tiled wall with force. Only one person would swing a door with that much force and still sound friendly.

“(Y/N)?” Steve perked up at the voice of his best friend, her loud cheer shoes slamming against the quiet room. Steve enjoyed the loud noise, if it came from her at least.

She finally rounded the lockers, Steve couldn’t help but smile up at the cheerleader. A small tiger was painted on her cheek, much better than the lion from her birthday all those years ago, and her cheer uniform fit her like a second skin. Green really was her color.

“Why are you hiding back here?” She found room on the bench, her knees touching his as she patiently waited for Steve to express his doomed feelings. He supposed he looked defeated because she made no mention of the short basketball shorts that barely fit or the smell of musk that clung to the walls like she normally would.

“I don’t think I’m good enough,” Steve let his Nike’s run over the grout in the tiles, letting his mind wander from the sticky boys locker room. What if he missed? What if he fell on his face? What if he overstepped? What if everything is his fault?

“If you weren’t good enough they wouldn’t have let you on the team,” (Y/N) shrugged, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Steve reveled the fact that her scent clouded all his scenes. Has she always smelt like candy?

“Yeah but-”

“No but Steve, you are good enough.”

“Then why don’t I feel like it?”

(Y/N) silence scared him, she always knew exactly what to say when it came to him and suddenly the feeling in his stomach only worsened. If she couldn’t see the best in him then there wasn’t any, because she could see the best in rabid animals and kids that bully her for being too loud.

“Because good people never realize they're good,” Her breathing made Steve shiver with fear, or maybe with excitement he couldn’t tell the difference, too much was happening in one moment to focus on his silly feelings.

“I believe you’re going to be the best possible out there tonight, and that’s pretty fucking great if I do say so myself.”

Steve had heard every upperclassman assume he would do fine, his mother and father told him he would do fine tonight, yet as if his brain could only hear the octaves of her voice, he believed her.

“You think?” Steve shrugged, smiling as her head bounced around slightly before lifting her head high enough to give him a bored expression. The glitter in her eye still made him buzz with joy as if they were still kids.

“I’m not fueling your ego ever again,” but Steve knew she would, it was who she was.

She was good like that, she was still the girl who worried when he jumped off swings and got his heart broken by an older girl; she warned him about her but he didn’t listen.

“If you don’t fuel my ego, who will?”

“Your mirror,” she finally stood from the bench that was definitely missing a nail, holding her hand out for the boy as if she was pulling him from his imagery rock bottom.

“You’re not funny,” Steve took her hand without a second thought, standing to his full height in front of her. She was taller than when they were kids, though Steve supposed he’d grown quite a bit too; even if he still felt small.

“You know I’m hilarious.”

Steve and (Y/N) exited from the locker room, leaning on one another like life support, as the basketball team ran through a few new game plans. The cheer captain screamed at (Y/N) to hurry up or she was kicked, bullshit. They couldn’t survive without her, Steve supposed they had that in common.

“I gotta go, just scream if you need me!” His lion went running, her skirt flying in the wind behind her as she demonstrated her roar for the whole gym to hear. Steve felt jealous, her roar was for him only. The jerky upperclassmen shouldn’t be able to hear that.

“Harrington,” the captain slapped a hand on his shoulder, “girlfriend makes you feel better?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, but yeah she made me feel better,” and Steve ignored the few sophomores asking about her with annoyance. A part of him wanted to “accidentally'' smash the basketball into their head for talking about her like that. She wasn’t for them, she was Steve’s lion. She was Steve’s everything. Instead he looked over at his favorite pair of green and gold pom pom’s wave in the air as she jumped with joy.

(Y/N) (L/N) had fixed Steve Harriongton's depression, again.

Black- “mystery, loss, unknown”

Steve Harrington was depressed, for real this time. His feet ran from Tina’s Halloween party, carrying him to (Y/N)’s small house on the outskirt of time. He barely had knocked when the front door swung open but a force only she could have; force that calmed him.

“Harrington?”

“I’m bullshit,” Steve pushed past the girl with ease, going straight up the stairs to the bedroom he’d loved for the past few years. He jumped over the creaky stair and dogged the cat that slithered past the two teens with ease. He didn’t hesitate to fall on top of the black bedspread, finding comfort in the way the bed moved under her as she sat beside him.

“You’re what?”

“I’m apparently bullshit, according to Nancy Wheeler at least.” Steve went on his long, tangent recollection of the night. She said nothing as he retold the horrors from the Halloween party, which comforted Steve to no end.

He needed to talk, he’s been so scared to talk since the night at the Byers. He signed some silly paper saying he could only talk to this therapist that the government prescribed and anyone who was in the loop. Although he wanted to talk to his best friend, not some lady with a white lab coat and pill bottles lining the wall. He wanted her to roar at those scary government official and tell them to fuck off, but he couldn’t say a word. So instead, he told her how Nancy had called him bullshit and he felt like she took a baseball bat of nails to his heart.

And she cared just as much as if he told her about the Upside Down and giant slimy Demogroans.

“She called you bullshit! What the hell!”

“She was drunk,” Steve pulled at his delicate nail beds, “but yeah. What the hell.”

“You aren’t bullshit, you’re the least bullshit person ever!” Her sock clad feet paced the room, running tracks in her mustard yellow carpet.

Steve felt like bullshit, lying to her.

“Maybe I’m a little bullshit,” Steve felt two hands grab the sides of his face, making him stare up at her. He hadn’t looked at her, not like this, since the day on the swing. He took her in, her angered expression making his lungs forget the taste of oxygen. Was she always this dangerously beautiful? How hadn’t he noticed when she sat beside him at the swing?

“Don’t call my best friend that, or I’ll have to beat you up.”

He knew she would, and he’d let her win just to watch her breathing become rapid and her little fist to touch his bare skin. Was the room suddenly growing hot? How did she have a sweater in this weather?

“You’d never hurt me,” Steve watched as she smirked down at him, her fingers lingering on his stubble long enough to make him wonder if she thought he was half as beautiful as herself. He hoped she felt warm and fuzzy like him, praying he wasn’t ruining everything.

“Maybe, I’m full of mysteries.” Steve smiled for the first time that hour, watching as she did little jazz hands before making herself comfortable beside him, making her home in her pillows and his side.

“You're also full of shit! You told me you hadn’t seen Purple Rain yet!” Steve held up the Prince movie high, his voice full of offense as she hurried to grab the VHS from his steady fingers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Giggles echoed off the poster filled walls and Steve could only pray they didn’t wake her sleeping parents. Last time that happened, he wasn’t allowed to see her for a whole week. It was the worst week of Steve’s life, he’d fight a million demogorgon to never relive that week.

As the two talked and shared secrets about favorite movies, Steve knew that she had to know. You couldn’t be best friends unless you knew everything about them, that’s what little Steve believed; and maybe teenage Steve believed the same thing because he was seconds away from telling her everything. Until the gentle snores filled the room, his body relaxing at the sound.

Her breathing and snores were like a lullaby to Steve’s tortured ears, letting his body rest into the mismatch pillow. No nightmares or tears for Nancy Wheeler were shed that night.

(Y/N) (L/N) had once again cured Steve Harrington depression, and he was still learning how to do the same.

Blue- “reliable, depressed, trust”

Steve Harrington hated to see his best friend depressed.

She was curled up in his passenger seat, clutching the blue slushie he bought her with white knuckles. (Y/N) refused to tell Steve what happened with her and Henry, just that they ended and it was messy.

Steve wanted to make Henry’s face messy for hurting her as if she was just another girl, like she wasn’t special. Henry made his lion cry and Steve believed that he deserved to be thrown into the Upside Down for such a crime.

“You know I’ll kill him if you want,” Steve didn’t take his eyes off the road, because once he had one look at her he wouldn't be able to look away. She was just that angelic, even crying which Steve thought was really dangerous. People aren’t supposed to look pretty when they cry, what if she was a super human like Eleven?

Is that how she made him feel all these feelings?

“I don’t need you in jail,” a loud slurp echoed off the walls of Steve’s BMW, “then I wouldn’t have anyone to waste gas on me.”

Steve smirked, quickly looking down at his quarter of a tank before back to the end backroads of Hawkins. Neither had a destination, just driving with gas station snacks and enjoying the scenery of their small town.

“I didn’t tell you that you’re filling up my tank?” Steve dared to look at her and forgot that he was driving. She looked perfect as she stirred her drink, her lips slightly blue and smirking at his comment.

He wanted to taste the blue from her pout but thought best not too, she didn’t need him to confuse her right now. Even if it hurt Steve, he didn’t want to make her life more complicated.

“No you didn’t,” she whispered into her lap.

“Damn it,” Steve jokily hit the steering wheel, “I hope you bought your wallet then.” Her giggles made Steve slow down slightly, caught off guard by the sound. She said nothing else, making Steve continue to question her in order to hear her.

He couldn’t help it that her voice was his favorite song.

“You know you can trust me, what happened?”

“I trust you more than anyone, it’s why I don’t want to tell you,” her voice went quiet again, which made Steve’s heart scream. She was loud, how dare Henry take her roar from her. Henry took his livewire and drenched her in rainwater, Steve could only hope she had electrocuted him before she gave out.

“Okay, just tell me when you’re ready.”

That’s all the two needed to share, enjoying the night drive with silence that would’ve been awkward if it was anyone else. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was just them and their breathing that the other could recognize anywhere. Steve was thankful for the silence, not worrying about Dustin yelling in his ear or protecting everyone. He didn’t need to protect himself around her, they could protect each other.

“Thank you Steve, I don’t think I could survive without you.”

Steve Harrington knew, for once, he had solved her depression and not the other way around.

Pink- “romance, sweetness, gentle”

Steve Harrington was going to kill himself in a Scoops Ahoy uniform, which he personally felt was the lowest his depression had ever gotten. Robin had taken her break and some kid had scammed Steve, so it wasn’t his best shift.

Until (Y/N)’s roar was heard from the front of the store as she yelled out Steve’s name. He immediately felt a flush wash over his entire body, something that had become common since Halloween of 1984. He came to the conclusion that once you think your best friend is dangerously beautiful, they only get more and more beautiful.

“(Y/N),” his voice was completely gentle as he watched her take her station in front of him, a wicked smile stretching the miles across her face. Steve would drive all the miles on her face just to reach her perfectly soft lips.

“Did you hear me?”

No, Steve wasn’t listening, just watching the way her lips moved as if speaking tongues. His own begged to taste her words as he took her oxygen for himself, as selfish as it sounded. Steve would always be a little selfish when it came to (Y/N).

“Yeah totally,” his voice sounded foggy, which was so not suspicious of him he must say.

“So I can have that strawberry cone then?”

He pulled the scooper from his apron, doing a small flip hoping to impress her, and walked to the pink tub that had barely been touched throughout the day.

“You’re the first person to get strawberry all day,” Steve nonchalant added a small extra scoop, because this was how he flirted now; adding extra ice cream to a cone.

“Because I’m the only cool person in Hawkins, duh!”

Steve had to agree, she was just the coolest. She was popsicles on Fourth of July cool and ocean water on sunburnt feet cool. She was also snow freckles covering your cheek and snow cream cool.

She was strawberry ice cream when nobody else wanted it cool.

“How much?” She took one long strip down the side of the cool dessert, her hands slipping into her coat pocket as if she expected to pay. Like Steve would ever let her do that.

“It’s on me,” Steve waved her off, watching her frown, the pink liquid dripping down her chin. Without thinking, the pad of his thumb reached across the shiny white marble to wipe the sticky goo from her plush lips.

Steve had never thought in such detail before her, he supposed that was the perk of falling for your best friend since second grade.

Her voice made no argument, watching his fingers retreat back to his side in a hurry with an embarrassed glow across his cheeks.

“Ice cream,” Steve mumbled under his breath softly, hoping to be swallowed whole by the black and white checked floor.

“I’ll let it slide,” her teasing voice was back in a hurry, as if it meant nothing, “but only because you gave me free ice cream.”

“Oh you're paying extra next time.” Steve couldn’t help but smirk as she skipped from the parlor, almost falling on her face as she looked back at his relaxed form.

Steve Harringotn didn’t know how she cured his depression every time, but at last she had done it again.

Red- “love, anger, passion”

Steve Harrington was losing too much blood to be depressed. His fist barely knocked on the door of his favorite house right outside of town, the bandages Nancy had placed on him earlier were almost soaked in red blood.

“I can’t believe,” (Y/N) words hung on her tongue as she swung open her front door, with as much force as she always did. Steve found comfort in the fact she hadn’t changed the week and a half he had gone M.I.A. Stupid Venca making him miss his best friend and shit.

“Holy shit!” She was dragging him throughout the house so fast he felt his stomach grow sick quickly. He was doing everything in his power not to hurl all over his crush, because that seemed like a bad idea even to bloodlost Steve.

“You disappear like you aren’t the only thing I got and then show up covered in blood!” Steve winched as her hand grazed over the bandages, streaks of red blood coming off on her palm. He had never heard her roar directed at him, it was always direct at someone or something else. He wished he could enjoy the lion before him, like he always did, but his mind was racing.

“I’m the only thing you got?” Was all Steve could muster as she collapsed on the side of the tub, almost falling back until her hands grabbed his shoulder.

“Shut up,” she scrambled to look through the overhead cabinet, pulling out bottles that looked like they would burn and bandages that would make Steve look six again. He wished he was six, because his only problem at six was ants eating his favorite dessert and pretty girls making sure he was okay.

“Do you remember when we met?” Steve felt delirious as she worked on the damage surrounding him, hoping he could fall back in time before any Upside Down talk was a thing.

“Yeah, but is that really important right now?” Steve ignored her question, continuing on with his original point.

“You had sat on the swings all alone, on your birthday,” (Y/N) turned away from him sightly, as if the memory still was a bone that near quite healed right, “I thought it was weird nobody came running over to push you or threatening to throw me off the swing.”

“Like I said Steve, you’re the only thing I got,” as (Y/N) looked into his eyes, he saw that stupid glitter. The one he could never describe, it was only ever a glitter, but as he watched her know he saw it.

He saw the memories flash across her iris at rapid speed, as if her eyes played a drive in a movie of her life. The longer Steve looked, the more of himself he saw, because she was right. He was all she had, but she was all he had also. They did it for each other, nothing else was needed.

So maybe it was the blood loss, but Steve had to say it.

“You’re all I got too,” Steve lifted his hand from his bangs to rest on her cheek, “but that’s fine cause you’re all I need.’

“We need to clean you up,” (Y/N) ignored the silent confession, the same one he’d given so many times since that night all those years ago. Her fingers worked with ease, as if it was second nature to take care of Steve; like he was her full time job.

“No, you can’t ignore me this time,” Steve pulled back until he fell into the tub, hoping to make his point clear. (Y/N) jumped at him, falling beside him as she still looked and cleaned his wounds.

“Steve, you're bleeding!”

“Stop roaring at me and let me confess how much I love you!”

Her hands stopped roaming his exposed skin, which saddened Steve to no end, slowly looking up at the inquired boy.

“What?”

“I love you. I love you in black and white and in screaming colors. I love you in lion face paint and cheer captain makeup. I love you on Halloween nights when my heart is shattered, and I love you now even if I’m covered in blood and goo! It’s so silly but I love you, okay!”

Steve didn’t know where the build up rant came from, for he never prepared anything quite like that. It didn’t even really make any sense now that he thinks about it, but it was exactly what his brain needed him to say in that moment; no blood loss clouding his judgment.

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” Steve felt her hands climb up his shoulders, making his head go dizzy in a whole new way. How could someone overpower the need for blood?

“You’re insane,” her voice was soft, quiet even, and Steve worried. He didn’t want to make her quiet, he wanted to make her scream and giggle with joy. He wanted her loud and proud, never quiet.

“Insane but in love,” Steve finally braced the scary glitter, “in love with you.” She exhaled, letting it fan over Steve’s crimson cheeks.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“The truth, please.” Steve hated to beg, but he barely had any blood and he supposed if he was going to die he wanted to die knowing he knew. He wanted to die knowing he cured her like she had for him.

“The truth,” a second paced way too slow for poor Steve, “I love you in screaming color and all that other bullshit you said.”

For once, Steve smiled at the word bullshit. He smiled at the blood that dripped down his chest and the memories that flooded his gentle brain. He smiled as lips ghosted across his, colors bursting across his vision on her breath mingled with his own.

He had been a black and white silent movie before her, no emotions or words just there reading through a script. Suddenly every color appeared, reminding him of a girl he didn’t know he needed until it was too late. She made colors screaming with memories of better tomorrows and happily ever after.

Steve Harrington would never be depressed again, because color had overcome his body as her lips finally smashed into his.

steve harrington masterlist

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#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x (y/n)#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington recs #steve harrington fic rec #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

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writingonpaperpetals · 3 years

Text

Reader Who Makes Preserved Flower Epoxy Resin Charms + Receiving A Gift From The Reader

Type: Blurbs

Characters: Ningguang, Ganyu, Xiao, Childe, Jean, Zhongli, Kaeya, Diluc, and Eula

Notes + cw: Apologies if some seem longer than others, tiny death mention cw in Zhongli’s but that’s it maybe

Ningguang is aware of your craft. She buys everything you ask her for your hobbies, even setting aside a room in the Jade Chamber for your work. She is always ready to offer you monetary advice if you want to earn money from your craft, but understands if you do not wish to go down that route and does not pressure you over it.

Upon being gifted the preserved glaze lily pendant, Ningguang holds the trinket close to her chest. Anyone can go out and buy her an expensive trinket, but a handmade gift from you is priceless. It shows her you are willing to dedicate hours of your life towards her, crafting something that comes from your own efforts. She keeps it tucked close to her own heart, viewing it when she misses you.

Ganyu finds your work with resin concerning for your health, but respects your dedication to the craft. She finds your passion genuinely inspiring. Upon being gifted a qingxin flower paperweight, she treasures it gingerly in her hands. For the first few weeks she stresses over keeping it looking nice and fearing the day she gets too hungry and tries to eat it, but as the weeks pass these concerns melt away. Her hands wrap around the paperweight, and she always smiles seeing it on her desk. It makes her stresses go away. And maybe a little hungry.

Xiao is silent, inspecting the small qingxin flower charm in his hand. “It’s...beautiful.” He whispers, his voice barely audible. His mind worries it might get shattered and bring you misfortune. He would never forgive himself if that happened. He thinks of giving it back. He doesn’t want the things you spent so much time and effort on to get damaged or even tainted by his karma. Then your hands clasp over the one holding the charm. “You’re even more beautiful. Keep it.” You say. Xiao is unable to protest against your request. How can he, when you told him to keep it just now?

He wordlessly puts it away in his pocket.

Later he hangs it off his sash.

Childe smiles brightly as you present him a preserved sweet flower with starshell pieces floating in the resin, making it glitter in the sun. “Thanks for the good luck charm, sweetness. I’ll keep it close!” He holds it up to the light, watching the sun shine through the flower. The clear resin reminds him of the unforgiving ice of his homeland, the starshell bits freezing cold diamond dust, but the sweet flower blooming within will always remain eternal. Resolute and undying.

Yes, he thinks, this is a fine gift from you. He has it molded to a pin and kept on his scarf, proudly wearing it like a medal.

Jean becomes briefly speechless when presented with the dandelion puff resin necklace. She wonders how much time you put into it for her and almost feels embarrassed accepting it, but she knows it would break your heart to refuse it. She finds it quiet pretty, the sunlight refracted in the resin making the dandelion puffs shimmer bright in her hand. “Reader, thank you very much.” She says.

Lisa catches a glimpse of the necklace and won’t stop teasing her about it, making Jean flush red. It’s such a romantic gesture out of the romance novels she’s so fond of reading. It also reminds her of your own smile, sweet as the gentle path of a dandelion.

Zhongli’s slitted eyes trace over the epoxy resin preserved petals and leaves in the bookmark you present him. He can easily identify silk flowers, glaze lilies, qingxin flowers, sweet flowers, mist and fire flower petals in the bookmark. He knows the exact places those flowers bloomed as well. He treasures such an item. Zhongli is always willing to tell you the best places to get the prettiest flowers and the ideal preservation conditions to keep them fresh looking until you preserve them.

One day, he can hope to preserve your wedding bonquet this way. So he can remember the happy times you shared with him when you’re gone.

Kaeya chuckles when presented with the resin preserved Calla Lily trinket. The resin is clear with mist flower petals framed around the single calla lily bud.

“I don’t need a good luck charm when I already got the best one right next to me.” He teases, hooking an arm around you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He holds it in his palm, admiring its beauty. Kaeya then smiles at you. “I’ll keep it close. It reminds me of you, after all.” He keeps the charm hanging off his belt next to his vision.

He feels a little less lonely whenever he’s wearing it, and he appreciates that so much more than he can ever outright say.

Diluc, much like Ganyu, worries for you health but remains supportive of your passion. Everything you make is a reflection of you, and he loves it all. He always offers to buy you resources you need. When presented with a charm you made, he handles it gingerly in his gloves. A flat rectangle with a falcon feather and small lamp grass buds in the clear resin. He holds it as if it’s a delicate piece of glass and not a chunk of firm material.

“Sucrose helped me treat the lamp grass with something to help it glow in the dark even while dead in the charm, but I made it small if you want to hide it away for stealth purposes.” You explain. “Or just don’t expose to light.” Diluc nods. He doesn’t say anything.

“Is something the matter?” You ask, worry setting in that he doesn’t like it.

Diluc begins shaking at your words, eyes watering. He’s unable to hold in his feelings.

“It’s beautiful. I’ll cherish it.”

Eula holds the teal dandelion puff and dark blue mist flower petal charm in her hand. She folds her fingers over it. Her grip on it reminds you of the crushing way she destroys the symbol of her family when bored. The strength and passion behind that simple gesture always entranced you. Here, though, you get a safe, protective sense from her strong grip. As if her fingers are a jealous snowdrift burying a mountain peak from the world so time could never mar it with its passage. A part of her almost doesn’t want to wear it but keep it to herself so it wouldn’t get damaged. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. She slides it in her blue hair.

“No words could ever convey how much this means to me.” She says. “I’ll proudly wear it always.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #eula x reader #petal writes #ningguang x reader #ganyu x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #jean x reader #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #i hope i did a good job on xiao’s and diluc’s parts

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emeren · 4 years

Text

speed racer- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 6k

content warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, smoking, degradation, overstimulation, breeding (w/o baby talk)

notes: 100% inspired by the official art, like mmm yes please. also i know absolutely nothing about how car racing works, but that’s not important. this is unedited because my brain turned to mush writing it. enjoy!! <3

SUMMARY: eren’s a semi-professional car racer, who has a tumultuous friendship with the reader. after losing a race, eren sets out to win something else in his life, much to the reader’s surprise.

“took you long enough!” sasha called out, holding her hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out the bright sun. you dished her a smile, weaving your way through the throngs of people in the stands, attempting not to step on anyone. your eyes briefly flitted to the track, the assistants distantly getting their cars ready. they were hardly visible from here; merely faceless figures idling around. you heaved out a sigh as you reached sasha, the brunette gingerly patting the spot next to her.

“you couldn’t have gotten better seats, sash?” you asked as you sat down, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head. sasha waved her large bag of popcorn in front of your face, an exasperated expression on her features.

“the line was long, and what’s a race without popcorn?” she grinned, offering you the bag. you rolled your eyes but took a fistful of the bright yellow snack nonetheless. “plus, if you really wanted that good of seats, you would’ve come early yourself.”

“i did come here early,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the popcorn. sasha raised a questioning brow, her elbow nudging you in the side.

“getting here early just so you can poke around the racer’s quarters is not the same thing,” she singsonged, a girlish smirk on her face. you scoffed, turning away from her as you felt heat race to your cheeks. “c’mon, everyone knows you and eren are totally into each other. i don’t understand why you guys don’t just go for it.”

“i wasn’t poking around, and i am not into eren,” you said, shifting uncomfortably as the words left your mouth. it was true, to some degree. the two of you had been friends in high school, back when eren was just some skinny kid with anger issues. now he was a semi-professional racer, and the rivalry between the two of you was palpable, to say the least.

you’d been in the same friend group and for some reason eren just loved to pick on you whenever he got the chance. you suspected it had something to do with his repressed daddy issues or whatever, and he’d known mikasa and armin far too long to be so catty with them. initially they were just playful taunts, but as you got older, they started to become more personal. with age came your own unchecked need to banter and argue with him.

somewhere along the way the arguments turned to sexual tension. a sexual tension that for the most part, the two of you were happy to ignore. it allowed room for a more sassy friendship, at least.

“uh huh, suuure,” sasha responded, seemingly unconvinced. she must’ve sensed your discomfort, deciding to change the topic. “who’s who?”

your eyes traced the track, analyzing each vehicle. “armin’s in yellow, mikasa’s in red, eren’s in white, and i believe levi is in green.”

“levi’s racing? isn’t he getting a little old for that?” sasha laughed, squinting. you chuckled.

“it’s just a small fundraiser race, plus he’s a crowd favorite over here,” you explained. sasha nodded as she processed the information. the sun was hot, beating down on your back. “i’m honestly surprised this many people came out.”

sasha tossed more popcorn in her mouth, halfway done with the bag despite the race still not having started. she offered it to you again. “mhm, this is the same type of crowd that we’d see in the underground.”

you thought back to your days of attending the illegal races, late at night and under the cover of darkness. though you were just a junior in college, it felt like those nights freshman year had been decades ago. that was before eren showed real promise in the professional circuit. it was also where levi scouted him out to be his successor.

as if on cue, you could see the figures of the racers emerging from the port, each headed for their respective cars. you couldn’t help the way your gaze immediately followed the tall, brown haired racer adorned in his white racing jacket, checkers on the side. the crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of the all the racers, one from each color of the rainbow. eren walked with a certain confidence, his adamant determination being one of the only things that followed him from high school.

though you couldn’t clearly see his face from where you sat, you knew he was smiling. eren had always loved the adrenaline rush before a race.

“alright ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the annual shiganshina fundraiser race!” the reporter boomed over the intercom. sasha squealed in her seat, excitedly gripping your arm and pointing towards your friends. you felt a mix of excited nervousness waft over you, giggling along with her. “today we’ve got racers from all over the circuit, and each one has volunteered their precious time for the cause. can we get a round of applause?”

the crowd erupted in yet another ear deafening round of applause as the announcer read off the names of each of the racers. you and sasha made sure to scream your loudest when armin, mikasa, and eren’s names were read off.

you hoped they knew it was you, your throat scratchy as you sat back down. there was no need to be loud for levi; the entire crowd went absolutely feral at the mention of his name.

the announcer read off the conditions of the race, as well as the reasoning for the fundraiser itself. you and sasha chatted quietly about the after party while the racers put their helmets on and got in their cars. before too long, the announcer was gearing up for the start.

“alright everyone, we’re about to start. get yourselves ready.”

you and sasha stood, hollering and cheering for your friends as the cars all lined up. you knew you’d be happy if any of them crossed the finish line first, but it was undeniable that it would be eren. it wasn’t armin or mikasa’s passion like it was eren’s; they viewed it more as as fun hobby. nevertheless, you dreaded how smug eren would be once he added another win to his already growing list. he really was a bastard sometimes.

“racers ready your cars. 3... 2... 1... go!”

they were off, levi’s green car easily settling into first place, cruising past the other cars as he whipped around the first curve. you held your breath, eyes scanning the other cars placements. eren was in fourth, armin in fifth, and mikasa in second. sasha yelled sporadically, reaching out and squeezing your wrist tightly.

as they rounded the circuit for the second time, eren passed the third place racer, coming up behind mikasa’s red car. you held your breath. “c’mon eren...”

“shit! he passed her!” sasha screeched, jumping up and down. you smiled as he whipped the corner, nearly cutting the edge of the median.

“levi is still so far ahead,” you commented, trying to pry sasha’s death grip from your wrist. your eyes glanced to the clock, realizing that the race was near its finish. levi was cutting the third corner and eren was quickly gaining on him.

“looks like it’s gonna be clo-” sasha’s voice was cut off as a large man tripped over the bleacher behind you, effectively shoving you into her side. “shit, the popcorn!”

you regained your balance, giving the man behind you a dirty glare as you turned to sasha. she frowned at the popcorn that’d been spilled all over the ground. “what a waste!”

looking back up at the track, the crowd broke into screams of excitement. you expected to see eren’s face on the big screen to the side as confetti streamed through the air, but were surprised to see levi’s unimpressed stare.

eren lost?

“you’ve gotta be shitting me,” sasha gaped, her face slack in shock. you shrugged, shaking the feeling of disappointment from your shoulders. serves him right.

people started to vacate the stands, shoving their way past you as you turned to sasha. “let’s go find connie and jean, sash.”

she nodded, still frowning. the two of you climbed down the steps, going against the flow of the crowd as you weaseled your way down onto the spectators path. you could see all of the racers shaking hands, congratulating each other. your mind briefly considered whether or not eren was going to be upset, but you decided not to dwell on it.

you watched as the racers disappeared into the tunnel, eren’s tall figure no longer in view. just then, connie and jean came walking out from the service booth, both wearing their maintenance coveralls.

sasha wildly waved her arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the remaining stragglers towards your friends.

“hey guys!” she smiled, the boys jogging to meet you halfway.

“why were you guys in such shit seats?” connie asked, skipping over a greeting. you let out a small laugh at sasha’s expense. she merely shrugged, turning to jean.

“we going to your place?” you questioned before she had the chance. jean nodded, adjusting the backwards baseball cap on his head.

“yeah, just gotta wrap some things up, then we can head out,” he replied. you grew happy at the thought of kicking back with your friends, enjoying a nice night of fun. parties at jean and connie’s place were always the best.

***************

“some race that was,” connie groaned, leaning back and bringing the beer bottle to his lips. so far it was just you, sasha, connie, jean, and a bunch of random drunk people who’d come from the track. sasha scoffed from her spot on the worn, brown couch.

“you could say that again,” she grumbled. “we didn’t even get to see levi cross the finish line ‘cause some guy rammed into us.”

jean looked at you from where he leaned against the wall, a bottle in his hand and his eyebrows raised. “wait, for real?”

“yeah,” you sighed, drinking whatever bitter liquid sasha had poured into your red solo cup. “didn’t even say sorry.”

“how many times do i have to tell you guys, just come work maintenance with jean-boy and i,” connie suggested, wrapping his arm around sasha’s shoulder and giving a squeeze. she rolled her eyes and shoved him off. “you guys would get to watch the race from the track itself.”

“i don’t know the first thing about cars,” sasha laughed, you nodding along with her.

“and you think we do? i just said that so we could get the best seats in the house,” connie snorted, taking another swig of his drink. you chuckled at his idiocy, unfazed by yet another one of their stupid stunts. “where’re the big racers anyway?”

“they should be here soon,” you responded, glancing out the window. jean was unironically blasting the fast and the furious soundtrack, something he’d done after every race for as long as you’d known him. by now the songs were ingrained in your brain.

“who wants to bet jaeger is in a pissy mood?” jean snorted as he moved to sit down on the arm of the chair you were planted in.

“when isn’t he?” you sneered. connie and sasha hummed in agreement. both you and jean loved nothing more than to push eren’s buttons. you knew jean’s motives stemmed from some boyish fun, whereas yours felt a little more personal.

the sound of clapping began to compete with the music, your neck craning to look past jean into the hallway. eren, armin, and mikasa came into view, people cheering them on and patting them on the back. they each wore their racing jackets over their street clothes.

you felt a familiar sensation burn in your stomach at the sight of eren. his dark hair was pulled back per usual, wispies framing his tan face. The white jacket stood out against his black t-shirt and black jeans; key necklace he always wore glinting against his chest. as your gaze travelled up from his body, you were startled to make contact with his teal eyes. you quickly glanced away in embarrassment.

“well, well, well,” jean cheered, raising his bottle to the trio. “how’d it feel to lose to a short, old man, eh jaeger?”

eren scowled, obviously peeved. “if i had to lose to anyone, i’m glad it was levi.”

connie snorted at that. “man, professional circuit has you soft.”

“whatever you say, baldie,” eren smirked mischievously as he came to sit down on the couch. connie defensively rubbed his head. “at least i’m making money in prof.”

“i still can’t believe you have people that actually want to sponsor you,” you snipped, a playful expression on your face. eren lazily looked towards you, the familiar irritation laced in his eyes.

“i’m sorry, what was that? i wasn’t listening to you,” eren retorted, looking as unbothered as ever. you glared at his words, but caught armin’s disapproving eye and decided to stay quiet.

as the night carried on, you watched your friends relax and reminisce about previous races and the days spent in the illegal ring. it seemed crazy that your life was so centered around car races, when you weren’t even a racer yourself. but you supposed you were just happy to be supporting your friends.

at some point you got up out of your chair to refill your cup. the large hoards of people had started to dance; the house feeling hot and humid as you shoved your way to the kitchen. luckily the room was empty, save for armin who was drinking water out of the kitchen tap.

“thirsty?” you asked, amused. his head snapped up, surprised by your voice. it took one look to tell he was absolutely trashed, face red and eyes half lidded. he smiled goofily and nodded his head before stumbling back out into the crowd of people.

you quickly filled your cup, following the direction armin had gone. as you stepped out of the kitchen, a body came out of nowhere and smacked into you.

eren jumped back, trying to avoid the liquid that sloshed out of your cup. “hey, watch it!” he hissed.

“you watch it, casanova,” you snapped, irritated by the sticky alcohol that dripped down your hand. eren’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, his arms defensively crossing his chest.

“i told you not to call me that,” he bit back, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. you rolled your eyes, instinctively bringing your hand to your mouth in an attempt to lick the drink off. eren watched you, his gaze clouded with an indiscernible emotion. you knew what you were doing.

“hm. too bad,” you quipped, dragging your tongue down the side of your hand, popping your pointer finger in your mouth. eren glowered at you as you let out a giggle. “see ya, loser.”

“whatever, brat,” he huffed, shaking the tension from his pants as you sauntered off into the crowd. he hated the effect you had on him.

you’d already decided not to get shit faced. while the rest of your friends had chosen otherwise, you danced alongside them, your resolve wearing thin much faster than theirs. jean and sasha bounced happily up and down, screaming the lyrics to whatever song it was blasting from the speakers. connie and mikasa were playing beer pong, and you had no clue where armin and eren had gone.

you heaved in a breath as a sharp pain shot through your side, signaling the end of your dancing career for the night. your two dance partners were too far gone to notice, waving goodbye to you as you stepped out of the sweaty crowd.

slipping your phone out of your pocket, your eyes nearly popped from your head at the time. two thirty?!

only slightly tipsy, you decided to find jean’s room and call it a night. he’d just have to sleep on the couch. with one hand dragging on the wall, you made your way through the house, past armin who was doing body shots with a couple of strangers, up the stairs and down the dark hall. it was quieter up here, but you could still hear the music and knew it’d be awhile till sleep visited you.

shoving jean’s door open, you were surprised to see none other than eren laid back on the bed, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. the strong scent of weed hit your nostrils, nose scrunching up in reflex. he propped himself up on one arm upon your entrance, eyeing you.

“oh, sorry i’ll just- wait a minute,” you paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “you aren’t supposed to be smoking on your sponsorship.”

eren let out a loud laugh at that, more smoke spilling from his lungs. “thanks, mom. i know.”

you stood in the doorway, not really sure what to do. “jean’s gonna be mad if his room smells like weed tomorrow.”

“yeah, why do you think i chose to do it in here?” he leered, bringing the blunt to his lips and deeply inhaling, sharp cheekbones protruding with the action. you sucked in a breath, not wanting to acknowledge just how gorgeous he was. his jacket was off, black shirt tightly gripping his muscular yet slender arms as he propped himself up. he blew the smoke from his nostrils this time, making your face heat. “wanna hit?”

you sighed, weighing the options. jean’s bed was a lot more comfortable than connie’s. you could just wait till eren was done, and then pass out. “no, but i’ll wait with you till you’re done.”

“suit yourself, brat,” eren hummed, flopping back down on the bed as you shut the door behind yourself. you came to sit by him, looking down as he heaved in a sober breath. he really is beautiful, you thought.

your eyes scanned his face. “you really shouldn’t be smoking, you know. you could lose the sponsorship.”

eren rolled his teal eyes, giving you a side glance. “i’m aware. i’m also aware that you aren’t going to rat on me.”

“and what makes you so sure?” you asked playfully, your voice low. eren’s gaze shifted to you, placing the blunt between his lips as he sat up, face inches from yours.

“because. you can act like you hate me all you want,” smoke blew from his lips as he spoke, slowly inching his face closer to yours. you swallowed, eyes struggling to maintain contact with his dark stare. “but i know how badly you want me.”

you blinked, heart rate accelerating as he glanced at your lips. “speaking from experience?”

eren’s mouth quirked up in a smirk at your words. “something like that.”

you watched with desire as he brought the bud of the blunt up to his lips, deeply inhaling the toxic smoke. he lifted his free hand, pointer finger gently tracing your jaw as his thumb came up to caress your chin. he tapped softly against your face, as if asking you to open your mouth.

you weren’t sure what part of you was wanting to submit to his every move. maybe it was the alcohol. or maybe it was the accumulation of sexual tension. something told you it was a deeper itch that needed to be scratched. an itch only eren could reach.

you parted your lips, eyes fluttering as eren leaned forward and carefully brushed his own against yours, dumping his lungful of smoke into your mouth. you breathed it in, fighting the urge to cough and whine as he pulled away.

“good girl,” he breathed, leaning away to snuff the bud out on jean’s bedside table. you heaved out as much as you could, shocked by your own willingness. you were mainly surprised by how much you enjoyed whatever that was.

you stared at him expectantly as he turned back to you, a serious expression on his face. “eren.”

“yes?” he asked, leaning heavily on his arm, eyes unashamedly focused on your lips. his other hand came up again, lightly ghosting your jawline. you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs; the way eren was fucking you with his eyes sending an unwelcomed throb to your clit.

acting on impulse, you lurched forward, latching your lips onto eren’s slightly chapped ones. he wasted no time in kissing you back; hungrily pressing himself closer to your body. his lips were warm and tasted like weed and coca cola, his tongue wiggling its way into your mouth where you happily welcomed it.

you brought your hand up, wanting to run your fingers through his hair, but were stopped when they got caught in the bun. eren grunted, kissing you harder and bringing his own hand up to yank the tie from his locks, letting his soft hair fall to his shoulders.

your fingers were quick to glide through the brown strands, scratching his scalp in the process. some throaty sound emitted from his chest, the noise making your cunt ache in need. how is he so hot?

eren’s hands came to your waist, roughly shoving you down onto the bed, so that he hovered above you. your lips continued to meld together, saliva coated mouths wetly intertwined. you removed your hand from his hair, bringing both hands to run down the expanse of his arms that were on either side of your head. you squeezed his biceps, surprised when he suddenly pulled away.

“is this okay?” he panted, breaths labored. his pupils were dilated, all seriousness behind his gaze. you nodded your head without hesitation, practically begging him to continue. “words.”

“yes, yes. i want this just as much as you do,” you responded. eren smirked from above you, his dark hair swirling around his face as his key dangled in front of your chin.

“good, because,” he leaned down to your ear, lightly nibbling the lobe as the cold key rested against your throat. “i’m going to punish you for all these years of torture.”

your eyes widened, the words sending a desirable chill down your spine. “torture?”

eren’s hot mouth travelled slowly from your ear down the side of your neck, lightly peppering the skin with lustful kisses. his tongue came out as he reached your collarbone, dragging the wet muscle up the front of your throat, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. a small whimper involuntarily left your mouth as he pulled back, grabbing your chin in his large hand.

“all of the nicknames,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “the quips,” and another, your chest tightening. “the stunt you pulled earlier with your hand. oh god. it’s like you were practically begging me to bend you over and teach you a lesson.”

he pulled back, dark eyes boring into yours. the desire was palpable, your breathing shallow as he stared at you. it was like he was waiting for some silent agreement.

you held eye contact, tilting your chin back ever so slightly in his grip. “good thing i learn fast.”

your words flew straight to his cock, throbbing uncomfortably behind his jeans. eren let go of your chin, his lips hungrily reconnecting with yours as his hands pinned your wrists to either side of your head. his tongue was quick to invite itself into your mouth, warm and erotic.

you wanted to tug on his hair again; wanted to hear his primal groans and feel him vibrate against your mouth, but you were pinned to the bed. desperate to hear eren moan, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, the action making him yank his head back.

“tsk tsk, none of that,” he growled, wet lips glinting in the low light of the room. “this is your punishment. guess we’re going to have to do something else.”

you frowned as he let go of your wrists, lifting himself from the bed and standing. you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes laced with desire as eren swiftly pulled the black shirt over his head, key pendant resting on his newly exposed chest. he was dangerously attractive like this; dark hair disheveled on his shoulders, only adding to the feral stare he was giving you.

he leaned forward, grabbing your thighs and yanking you to the end of the bed, legs dangling from the side. you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees, fingers coming up to toy with the button of your jean shorts.

“these little shorts make your ass look so good,” he grumbled, tapping the button. “be good and take them off for me.”

you wasted no time in lifting your ass off the bed, struggling to yank the denim down your legs without hitting eren in the face. he watched your every movement, licking his lips as you wiggled them off.

without thinking, your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal a black bra. eren’s pupils dilated further at the unexpected sight of your breasts.

he helped pull the shorts from your ankles, tossing them aside as you sat back down, just in your panties and bra. you paused for a moment, unsure of what he was planning to do.

“watch me,” he demanded, staring at you through his brows. you nodded your head, breath hitching as he placed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, tongue swiping against the smooth skin.

his eyelashes fluttered as he licked up your leg; just the way he looked at you being enough to have you creaming in your lace panties. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, the burning in your face mirroring the way your clit throbbed along with your heart beat.

eren’s tongue trailed until he reached the edge of your underwear, eyes never failing to stay connected with yours. you swallowed as he lifted his head, placing his tongue flatly against your clothed clit.

it was a warm, muted feeling, your body all too aware of the beautiful man between your legs. eren brought his fingers up, hooking under the fabric and pushing it to the side.

“so wet for me already,” he hummed, a smile on his face. you blushed in embarrassment, the feeling of his breath on your glistening pool of moisture making you shiver. “’m gonna eat you so good, little bitch.”

you gasped as eren rapidly brought his face down, burying his head between your legs. the sensation was like no other; a swirling feeling in your stomach as his tongue hungrily swiped against your clit. your hands flew down to his hair, tugging as his lips wrapped around the bud, suckling softly.

a moan escaped your lips, the sound causing eren to groan out in reply. the vibration of his vocal cords against your center amplifying the pleasure.

a distinct feeling began to burn in your chest, the sloppiness of eren’s tongue licking up your slick causing your legs to squirm, tightening around his head. “fuck.”

eren pulled back at the pressure against his skull, a smack sounding through the air as he released his suction on your wet cunt.

“i told you to be good,” he hissed, lips coated in your sheen. you knew the image of eren’s face between your legs, hair disheveled and mouth swollen, eyes dark and lustrous, would be burned into the back of your brain.

flustered, you nodded your head, spreading your legs so they weren’t pressing against his face. he nodded in content, arms coming up to wrap around your thighs to keep you steady.

and he was back; eating your pussy like he hadn’t been fed in years, a primal desperation. he pressed his tongue down harder, the cry ripping from your throat at the sensation only egging him on. you struggled against his grip as he abused your clit with his mouth, sucking and tracing his teeth over it so good.

his tongue slid down to your entrance, shoving itself in without invitation. the fullness wasn’t like having sex; it was a heated, swirling feeling. the wet muscle circled around your spongey walls, your face beginning to burn and hands growing clammy in eren’s hair.

you threw your head back as his ministrations sped up, your hips attempting to grind into his face. the warmth in the pit of your stomach building like a loaded gun, ready to release itself.

all it took was the added pressure of his hand wrapping around your thigh so that his thumb could press against your clit, feverishly rubbing. you came crashing down, your eyes screwing shut as the wave of dopamine stretched to every part of your body, legs jerking against his hold.

eren pulled his head back again, a smile on his wet face as he licked your release from his lips. “tasted so good, so good for me.”

you breathed out in reply as he came back up above you, gently taking your chin and bringing his mouth down to yours.

the kiss was small and simple, your eye lids growing heavy. you could taste your bitter release on him, the unfamiliar flavor not completely unpleasant.

“sleepy?” eren mumbled against your lips, coming back to look at you. you nodded your head, eyes catching on the key that dangled from his neck. “too bad. we aren’t done with your punishment yet.”

you frowned, your body suddenly more awake than it was before. “huh?” you asked, sitting up as eren shifted to pull his jeans off.

you weren’t sure what you expected when he yanked both his jeans and boxers down; you guessed you’d always thought his anger issues were compensation for something. the realization dawned on you that eren had nothing to compensate for as his cock sprung from his pants, the sheer size making your mouth water.

a smirk crossed his face as he stepped from his jeans. “enjoying the view?”

“what? no,” you scoffed, averting your gaze. eren crawled back over you, his bare length pressing into your stomach as his hands came up to unclasp your bra.

“don’t be shy, this is your punishment after all,” he whispered, pulling the cups from your chest. his eyes unashamedly scanned your breasts, a smile tugging his lips as he gave them a generous squeeze.

you tried to ignore the imprint of him on your stomach; but it was nearly impossible. you could feel the spot between your legs grow wet again, arousal already weaseling its way back into your system.

eren brought his lips to yours once again, the kisses much sloppier and desperate than before. he grunted as you shifted to lay back down, his exposed dick rubbing against your stomach. “can’t wait to be inside of you,” he mumbled against your lips.

you whimpered at his words, his lips melding with your own while he simultaneously tugged your panties down your legs. he propped himself up with one arm, the other positioning the tip of his cock at the entrance of your already throbbing cunt.

you took a deep breath as he slowly eased himself into you; the sheer stretch making your eyes lull back in your head. eren moved his hips slowly at first, loosening you up. he was watching your expressions; his eyelids heavy and mouth slightly agape.

“shit, you’re so tight,” he groaned, hips starting to move faster as he gazed down at you. you swallowed, closing your eyes as he sent one particularly hard thrust, cock nearly ramming your cervix. “you good?”

“mhm,” you responded, bringing your hands up to grab his hair. “just so big.”

eren let out a breathy chuckle at that, eyes traveling down to your pelvis where his dick was visibly creating a bump with every thrust. he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing down as he bucked his hips violently forwards. he was so deep.

you cried out at the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, your walls clenching around him as your hands clawed at his muscular back.

he was filling you up so good, a moan leaving his lips as your enhanced arousal unexpectedly brought your second orgasm down, tears pricking your eyes. eren kept abusing your pussy, his thrusts growing senseless before he buried himself deep within you, releasing his load inside of your exhausted center.

both of your breathing was labored, eren looking up at the ceiling. his face was flushed as he recovered, you laying limply beneath him trying to regain your composure yourself.

“that felt so good,” you admitted, bringing your hand up from his back to caress his angular face. eren frowned at your words, large hand grabbing your wrist and removing it from his jawline.

“m’not tired yet,” he said seriously, your eyes widening as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips. your fucked out face beneath him had his dick already hardening again. “m’not gonna be tired till i win.”

he suddenly pulled up, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing your legs up by your head. the action strained your muscles, the feeling of eren’s cum dripping down your ass filling your head as he readied himself to fuck you senseless.

he stared at your cunt; at the way his cum was oozing out of it, the abused pussy ready to take him in again. he used his fingers to catch the drip, forcing it back inside of you. the thought of filling you up all nice and pretty sent him over the edge, his hand shamelessly guiding his cock back inside of you.

eren was meaner this time; each thrust was deep and deliberate, hitting your cervix and making you cry out in pleasure. the burning sensation in your clit was overwhelming, your mouth hanging open as eren slowly fucked you stupid.

“good, pretty girl” eren breathed out, ramming his hips into yours. “took her punishment like such a good girl.”

you tried to nod your head, but you couldn’t move. the feeling of hot, sticky tears rolled down your face, eren’s cock deep within you almost too much to bear. he grabbed your chin, tongue swiping up your cheek as he savored the salty flavor on his tastebuds. this man and his licking.

“tell me, did you learn your lesson?” eren grunted in your ear, hand still gripping your chin. you tried to form a sentence, fucked beyond words. “hm, use your words and i’ll let you cum.”

one more deep thrust and his dick stopped its strokes, pausing within you. “yes... yes.”

“yes what?”

your tongue was heavy in your mouth, pussy all too aware of eren’s length within it. “i learned my lesson, you won.”

he smirked, aggressively bucking his hips into your weak cunt, the action making you cry out as he rammed your cervix. the tears continued to roll down your cheeks as eren’s dick twitched, spurting the his seed into you. your third release followed his, your clit spasming from the overstimulation.

eren heaved himself out of you, collapsing deftly onto the bed. the two of you sat in a heated silence, your face sticky from the tears. eren glanced to you, eyes trailing down your body.

“i’ll get a rag,” he mumbled, shoving off the bed and walking into jean’s bathroom. you were beyond exhausted and knew that you’d be sore tomorrow. eren reemerged, quickly cleaning you up and handing you your shirt.

your eyes lazily watched him as he walked over and locked the door; brain too tired to form a sentence.

he must’ve noticed your concern. “we can sleep in here tonight; i don’t think you’re in any shape to move.”

you carefully crawled into the sheets, not even bothering to put your shirt back on. eren followed suit, climbing in behind you.

“night,” he whispered as he shut the bedside light off. your lids were growing heavy, a smile on your lips as you began to fall asleep.

“night, casanova.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren #eren x reader #eren smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jäger #this is so bad im sorry

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

Text

Girl Scout pt. 2

Part one didn’t do too well so idk if I’ll continue this series or not. Plus I don’t really like how I wrote this part. Y’all know how I am with series 😭 but I hope y’all like it!!

Peter Maximoff x reader fic

Summary: Lorna breaks her leg and is no longer able to sell Girl Scout cookies for her contest. So Peter is forced to become an honorary girl scout and sell them for her. And in doing so meets someone who might be able to help him win.

Word count: 1334

Read Part One Here

Peter had assumed that it wasn't going to be all that hard to sell girl scout cookies. But he was so wrong, no one in the neighborhood was too eager to buy cookies from a grown man in a little girl's uniform. They would open the door, take one look at him and then shove it closed in his face. It also didn't help that he kept dropping all the boxes and having to go back to get them. At this point they were nothing but crumbs, he had run over some of them once or twice.

He had almost sold one box to this man around his age. But even after he had “proved” he was a girl scout as the man had asked, doing pushup and naming some of the patches on his satch. The man ended up buying a box from a different girl scout, from Sandra to be exact. His sister’s nemesis had given him this sickly sweet smile as the man handed her a twenty in exchange for 3 boxes plus a tip. After the man closed the door she turned to face him, her face now sporting a cruel smirk. “A little early for Halloween.” She stated. “What are you supposed to be anyway? A losing girl scout.”

“What no?” Peter said with a bewildered look on his face, wondering why this child was attempting to insult him. “I’m just trying to help my sister win a bike.”

“Fat chance old man.”

“Old man?” Peter interrupted. “I’m only in my twenties.”

“I already have the bike in the bag. There’s no way you can catch me.” She looked him up and down with a sneer. “Especially looking like that.”

“You know what, I am going to beat you.” Peter said with a new spirit of competitiveness in his soul. He never wanted to hit a 12 year old more in his life than right now.

She laughed at him, not believing his threat. “How many boxes have you sold?”

“Uh none.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sandra turned on her heel, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder as she did so. “Goodluck old man.”

“I’m not an old man!” Peter shouted after her retreating form, she just waved to him as she dragged her now empty wagon behind her.

As the sun began to set Peter began to lose all hope of even selling one box. He sighed and climbed the steps to the last house on the street, knocking half heartedly. He cursed as the movement made him drop all of his boxes on to the floor. When you opened the door you were greeted with a man around your age in a girl scouts uniform, cursing as he tried to pick up the boxes he had dropped. Each time he got one he dropped another, he bent down a little too quickly and his sash tore into two. You let out a giggle making him look up at you with a bright red face.

“Uhhh hey.”

“Hey.” You replied bending down to help him pick up his crumbled boxes. “Aren’t you a little old to be a girl scout?”

“Surprisingly that’s not the first time I’ve been asked that today.” You hand skimmed his and he shot off your porch, nearly crashing into your mailbox.

“What was that?” You asked with wide eyes.

“Uhhh, nothing.” Peter quickly replied.

You watched from your porch as Peter made his way back over to you. As he came closer you began to recognize his features, and you realized that you had seen him around before. “Are you the guy that was racing with his sister down the hill and lost her in my flower garden?”

“That’s me.” You laughed at his embarrassed tone.

“So why are you wearing what used to be a girl scouts uniform?” You picked up the sash that had torn in two, thumbing over the carefully stitched name on the front. You handed it back to Peter and he cursed at seeing it’s wrecked state.

“Lorna’s gonna kill me for tearing this.”

“I can sew it for you real quick if you want.” You pointed back to your house. “Do you wanna come in for a minute? And you can explain what it is exactly that you are doing.”

Peter looked at you with a curious look, wondering why you were being so nice to him. Truth be told you had seen him around the neighboorhood before and if you were being totally honest you had developed a small crush on the silver haired man. And inviting him in to fix what you assumed was his sister’s sash seemed like a good excuse to talk to him. Peter’s intense gaze was making you flustered, in seeing you turn away a blush took hold of Peter’s face. “Yeah that would be nice.”

“So let me get this straight.” You passed Peter a cup of lemonade, sitting down across from him. “You are selling girl scout cookies for your sister because she broke her leg, and you’re trying to win her a bike?”

Peter nodded along, the too small girl scout hat bopping adorably on his head. “And to beat her nemesis Sandra.”

“She has a nemesis?” You finished mending the sash, a long white line now scarred the surface. “What did this girl do?” You giggled, passing the sash back to Peter who gave you a grateful smile.

“Well according to Lorna she thinks she’s better than anyone and has won the contest three years running.”

“She can't be that bad.”

“Oh trust me she is.” Peter’s eyes narrowed at recalling his earlier encounter. “She’s a total brat.”

“Are you allowed to call other children brats?” You fought back your laughter at his seriousness.

“You are when they call you an old man.”

“She called you an old man?” Laughter filled the room from both of you. Peter telling you to stop laughing through his own joy at seeing you so happy. “Is it because of the hair?”

“Hey!”

After a couple minutes your laughter died down as you regained your composure. “Well you are far from being an old man. You are a very handsome young man.” You winked at him as you took his empty cup from him. Peter’s face erupted in heat as he mumbled out a thank you. You placed his cup in the sink and turned around leaning back against the counter. “So aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?” Peter’s heart pounded at your vague question. Were you hinting for him to ask you out. Cause he really wanted to but he would have prefered to do it when he wasn’t dressed as a girl scout.

“If I wanna buy some cookies?”

“Oh.” Peter blushed and picked up a crumbled box and gave you his best smile. “Would you like to buy a box?”

“I would love to.”

Peter sorted through his boxes and handed you one of his least squished box in exchange for your money. You opened up a box of thin mints eager to eat one, pouring the box out into a ceramic bowl. You watched as nothing but minty dust fell out. “These are crumbs.”

“That they are.” Peter gave you a tight smile. “Please don’t ask for your money back, you’re the first person to buy a box.”

You laughed at his desperation, sitting through the crumbs for pieces. You found one full cookie and bit into it. “ I’m going to help you.”

Peter had a dumbstruck look on his face. “Why?”

You shrugged, brushing the crumbs off your hands. “Because that girl sounds like a jerk.” Peter followed you as you slipped on your shoes. “And I like you.” You gave him a smile and opened the door, waiting for him to go out it. Peter gave you a smile and followed you out.

Taglist: @chiswritingandreadingcorner @enemy-of-wonkru @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @livingmybestfictionallife @evanmybeloved @rottenstyx @raincoffeeandfandoms @ietss @cursedandromedablack @mossybank @usuck @tatesimper

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fluff #Peter Maximoff #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff xmen #quicksilver xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x you #evan peters #evan peters characters #quicksilver #evan peters x you #evan peters x reader

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sasholotl · 2 years

Text

love, it will not betray you, it will set you free

Hey ! Wanted to try and write something for the last prompt of the sasharcy week ! So, here we are for the prompt ‘’headcanon’’. I have this little headcanon that both Marcy and Sasha need to stim. Hope you’ll enjoy !

AO3

The sun shone bright above them, bathing Sasha's hair in gold. Marcy tried really hard not to stare and focus on her console but everytime Sasha moved, her attention would snap back to the glint of the sunlight on her hair. It was distracting.

Sasha seemed unaware of her interest. Eyes stuck on her phone, a small smile would graze her lips every now and then, the object of her amusement lost to Marcy. She was probably talking with Anne anyway.

(If the thought sparked something uneasy in her stomach, Marcy was quick to bury it. Sasha was with her, no ?)

The simmering energy flickering between her fingers was becoming too much for her console, so Marcy dropped it on the table. To her dismay, the energy swam from her fingers to her arms until she was practically vibrating from the excess of restlessness.

She tried to resist it, but it was like showing a dog a bone and expecting it to remain calm. Now that she was aware of it, she could hardly ignore the urge to move. Throwing a brief glance to Sasha, Marcy knew her friend wouldn't move for a long time, sprawled as she was on the bench.

Anyway, she doubted Sasha would agree to do something else than bask in the warmth of the sun, not when she had been adamant to sit here so they could wait for Anne to finish her classes.

Hoping Sasha wouldn't notice, she began rocking back and forth, so slow at first that she barely felt like moving. When Sasha stayed absorbed by her phone, Marcy allowed herself to rock more freely, losing herself in the relief washing over her. Eyes closed, she hummed almost inaudibly, just to feel the vibration in her chest and throat.

It felt nice, great even. Why hadn't she done so earlier ? In hindsight, it felt ridiculous to worry about Sasha's judgement, especially-

''Stop fidgeting Marcy, everyone's watching us !''

Once when she was still a kid, one of her classmate, who had bullied her all year despite Sasha's threats, had punched her in the stomach, hard enough to chase all the air from her lungs. She had been left gasping like an idiot, tears burning in her eyes.

It was like Sasha had just punched her. She opened her eyes, frozen in mid rock, greeted with the sight of Sasha frowning at her. A quick look around revealed to her the mocking glare and the too loud snickers of the few students sitting near them.

She shrunk on herself, half-hoping she could disappear, her arms coming to hug her own belly, hoping it would somehow relieve the pression growing there. ''Sorry Sash.''

Sasha watched her, unreadable, before going back to her phone. Marcy lasted a total of ten seconds before rocking again, both humiliated by the taunting of her classmates and desperate for any stimuli.

Why was her body so weird ? Why was she so weird ? Neither Anne nor Sasha, nor anyone really, seemed to feel like her, to feel the urge to do anything just to release the energy burning inside.

''You're doing it again.'' Sasha hissed, a wild glint in her eyes as they flickered back to her.

''I'm sorry, I just don't know how to stop doing it !''

''Just calm down okay ?''

''But I am calm !'' Marcy said, wringing her hands, trying very hard to focus on not rocking. Sasha huffed, brows furrowed. She couldn't tell if Sasha was angry or worried, and it made her nervous. ''It's not a bad weird thing, it's just weird. Like, I need to move, you know ?''

Her friend stayed uncharacteritically quiet. Her phone buzzed on the table, and from where she was, Marcy saw Anne's picture appear. Sasha didn't look, her gaze trained on Marcy's, unwavering, as if she was focusing really hard on understanding what Marcy was saying.

It was too much staring. Marcy dropped her eyes to Sasha's phone again, watching Anne's texts appear on it and wishing the girl was here to diffuse the tension growing. She had no idea what she had done wrong, desperatly searching in her mind why Sasha was acting so strangely all of a sudden.

Marcy was about to ask her friend to leave and wait for Anne in another place but Sasha beat her to it.

''Yeah, I know.'' Sasha smiled, but it felt wrong, too tense. And then, her friend sighed, her shoulders sagging. ''I know, Mar-mar.'' She raised a hand to her hair, deflty untying her ponytail and offering her elastic to her. ''Here, take this. It helps me sometimes to...'' Sasha frowned again, glancing to the other students not far away. The muscles on her cheeks moved as she clenched her jaw. ''Whatever, just take it.''

Marcy watched the elastic, mind blank, before gazing back to Sasha. Her friend was looking more and more annoyed as time passed, prompting her to grab the elastic before Sasha took it back.

''Thank you.'' Marcy muttered, still staring. Did Sasha...

Sasha leaned back, looking embarrassed. ''Whatever. Not a word to anyone, alright ?''

She nodded, too stunned to do anything else. Slowly, she let her fingers graze the elastic, enjoying the soft texture. A few hair of Sasha's were still stuck to it so she gently remove them, before twisting the elastic. It wasn't as relieving as the rocking, but it was enough and it had the benefit to be discreet.

When she raised her head, Sasha was still watching her, her face strangely soft.

For an unknown reason, it made Marcy's cheeks burn.

#amphibia #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sasharcyweek #love them your honor #they're precious #ash writes

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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years

Text

Just Short of Forever [Spencer x Fem!Reader]

Thank you to the lovely Anon who gave me this idea: maybe spencer or reader is about to get married to someone else, and they have a sort of runaway bride situation. they realize they have feelings for their ex (being spencer/reader) and they realize they can't get married.

Please feel free to send me ideas/requests!

CW - none really, mild angst but mostly fluff.

WC: 2.6K

Once upon a moonlit October, Spencer Reid met the love of his life and promised her forever. But their forever didn’t come. Call it fate, call it destiny; call it what you will, but their forever was cut short.

Somewhere along the line they lost their way. Their “I love yous” became “I’m sorry’s”, their laughter turned to tears. Warm smiles became cold. Hello’s evolved into goodbyes.

Five years was not forever. But you would always carry a piece of each other in your heart. You were each other’s first and strongest loves.

But life had other plans for you both.

***

The music blasting from the speakers stung your ears like a thousand tiny pin pricks. The alcohol in your system was enough to dull the boisterous crowd but not enough to stop the assault of the music on your eardrums.

You excused yourself from your group of friends, having to shout to be heard and pushed your way through the throngs to the front door of the bar.

You gasped, desperate for the fresh air of the crisp March evening to fill your lungs. There were a few people on the sidewalk smoking and conversing and the odd car passed by but other than that the street was quiet.

Just what you needed.

You pulled your cell phone from your purse to check your messages. You smiled to see some from him. You opened them to read them, just a voice came from behind you.

“Excuse me, miss? I think you dropped this.”

You froze instantly at the voice. It had to have been nearing three years since you’d last heard it, but you knew that articulation no matter how many years it had been.

“I guess this is it then.” He stepped into the corridor, the box cradled in his arms.

“I guess so.” You agreed with a sad nod.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I hope you do too.” You chewed your lip determined not to cry. Not yet.

“Goodbye Y/N.”

“Goodbye Spencer.”

You slowly turned around and your eyes met. Those hazel eyes gazed back at you, the ones you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

His face noticeably fell when he realised it was you. You saw his Adam’s apple bob deliciously beneath the soft flesh of his neck as he swallowed. His hand was held out with your keys in his open palm. You must have dropped them when you got out your phone.

“Hi Spencer.” You breathed with a shaky smile. You stepped a little closer and cautiously took the keys. “Thanks.”

“Y/N, hi.” He swallowed again, his voice low and croaky. “I didn’t recognise you from behind. You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. You had no idea what to say to him. You never thought you’d see him again and now he was here in front of you there were so many things you wanted to say but nothing that seemed appropriate.

You watched his eyes regard you, from your too high heels to your skimpy dress. You never dressed like this when you were with him.

His glance faltered when he reached your chest, but not for the reasons you would think.

You saw his eyes widen slightly, and you swore you saw tears brimming in them.

“Oh wow,” he choked as he spoke. “I guess congratulations are in order.” He pointed at your sash, the one that told him in large gold letters you were the “Bride To Be.”

You followed his gaze down to the sash, you’d forgotten all about it. You ran your fingers over it absentmindedly.

“Uh...yeah.” You muttered. “Thanks.”

“When’s the big day?” There was a twinge of jealousy to his tone, combined with a hint of bitterness.

“Uhm...two weeks Friday.”

“Wow.” He gnawed heavily on his lip, he swore he tasted blood. “That’s uhm...I don’t know.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what to say. What could you say?

“Actually,” he spoke again, his voice now restoring some punch. “I do know. It’s...it’s...horrible. It’s awful, it’s completely and utterly-”

“Y/N!”

Spencer was cut off by your best friend and maid of honour poking her head out of the bar and calling your name.

“They’re playing our song!”

“I’ll be right there!” You called back, attempting a smile.

She smiled back and soon disappeared back inside.

“Sorry I have to go. Thanks for finding my keys.” You went to walk past him, not being able to look at him anymore without risking tears.

As you did so, you felt a strong hand clasp around your wrist stopping you.

You turned back to Spencer, shaking him off you.

“What? You have more to say?” You folded your arms across your chest in frustration.

“Do you love him?” He surprised you with his forwardness.

“Of course I love him. I wouldn’t be marrying him if I didn’t.”

“Let me rephrase that then.” He stepped closer to you and you caught his scent in your nose. You’d never been able to describe the way he smelt, it was an aroma that was simply Spencer.

“Do you love him more than you loved me?”

Now that was the million dollar question. Honestly you knew the answer to that. You’d known since the first time you met Spencer you would never love anyone the way you loved him. But you weren’t willing to tell him that.

“I’m not answering that.” You shook your head and turned on your heels. “Goodbye Spencer.”

“We could have had it all!” He called after you, but you kept walking.

“Goodbye Spencer.” You repeated as you threw the door to the bar open and vanished.

Spencer was left staring at the space you had just occupied.

He should have been over you by now. He thought he was over you. But then you’d been standing in front of him and he’d fallen all over again the moment he glanced in your eyes.

Knowing you were getting married tore his heart in two. Your break up had been mutual, it just hadn’t worked out but that didn’t stop him loving you.

“It should have been me.” He whispered to himself as he turned and headed back down the street. “It should have been me.”

***

The sun was shining, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It went some way to dulling your nerves. But they were still there, bubbling under the surface.

You’d thought of nothing but Spencer and those brooding eyes since your bachelorette party. Truthfully, he’d been on your mind since the day you broke up but over time he’d faded to a distant memory. Now he was back with full force.

You’d still been mourning your break up with Spencer when you’d met Tristan, your soon to be husband.

The wound was still fresh, open and gaping and you’d thought Tristan would be a great distraction from the pain. Somehow over two years past you by and when Tristan proposed to you, you found yourself saying yes.

You did love him, just not the way you’d loved Spencer. The love you had for Spencer had been new and exciting, something you’d never experienced before. It had swept you off your feet and turned your whole world upside down.

Your body ached for him when he was away on a case and every time he returned and pulled you into his arms, the feeling overwhelmed you.

The door opened and you immediately leapt up from the couch. Spencer looked exhausted as he stepped across the threshold, but as soon as he locked eyes on you his face lit up.

“Spence!” You fell into his arms immediately and buried your head into his chest. You inhaled his scent, that pure Spencer scent.

He wrapped you tightly and protectively in his arms.

“Y/N,” he breathed you in. “Gosh I missed you.”

“I missed you too baby.” You squeezed him.

“Not half as much as I missed you my love.”

The two of you stood in the doorway in a loving embrace for several minutes, neither ready to let the other go.

The two of you never felt safer and more at home than in each other’s arms.

You smoothed down your dress and took in your reflection, trying to shake all thoughts of your lost love.

Everything was in place. Your make-up was done, your hair was pinned perfectly in place and you were cinched in your dress.

You turned to the side and then the other side and you even managed to smile a little. You felt like a princess, that much was for certain. But was the man you were about to marry your prince?

You stepped over to the window where the gardens could be viewed. A winding path snaked between perfectly manicured bushes.

His black suit stood out against the greenery and you didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

You spun around, hoisting your dress up as you marched from the room. As you were heading down the stairwell a voice caught you.

“Y/N where are you going?” Your best friend.

You turned to look up to where she was standing up the top of the staircase.

“There’s something I need to take care of.” You told her vaguely.

“Well hurry up, the ceremony’s starting soon. You of all people can’t be late.” She laughed.

“This won’t take long, trust me.” And with that you carried on down the stairs.

You found the back entrance easily enough and shoved open the door.

He was wearing his best suit and tie and his hair was swept back off his face, you’d think it was his wedding day.

“Hi Y/N.” He smiled at you as you approached.

“Don't hi me Spencer. What the hell are you doing here?” You didn’t need to ask how he knew where you were getting married, he’d no doubt gotten his friend Penelope to find you.

He laughed a little and the sound made you go a little weak.

“It’s simple really,” he shrugged. “I’m here to tell you you’re marrying the wrong man.”

It was your turn to laugh now.

“Really Spencer? Where was this man three years ago? If I recall we wanted different things. So please enlighten me, why am I marrying the wrong man?” You didn’t have time for this, but you wanted to hear why he’d had the audacity to show up here today.

And maybe you wanted to see if he could convince you that you were marrying the wrong man.

“Because you don’t love him like you loved me. You don’t love him the way I’m pretty certain you still love me.”

“Nice try.” You scoffed. “I’ve got to go get married. Goodbye Spencer.” You turned away from him now and hoisted your dress again so you could make a quick exit back up the garden.

“You didn’t deny it.” Spencer’s words were smug and it irritated you enough to get you to turn back around.

“Didn’t think it was necessary.”

“I didn’t fight for you.” He stepped closer to you. “I didn’t fight for us. And maybe three years is too late. I know this isn’t ideal timing on my part but I’m here now and I’m ready to fight.”

“Spencer, our time has passed.”

“Do you remember our first date?”

You frowned, you really didn’t have time for this.

“Yes Spencer, of course I remember our first date.”

For October, the weather had been good to you. Spencer had taken you to the Smithsonian, you’d probably learnt more from him than anything the institution had to tell you.

Afterwards you’d gotten coffee and strolled through the DC streets for hours.

You chatted about everything, your jobs, your childhoods, what made you tick, music and movies and everything in between.

Somehow the sun had set and before you knew it you’d spent the whole day together.

“I have to say,” you glanced at him as you strolled towards your apartment. “This has been an excellent first date.”

“It has been, hasn’t it.” He smiled at you. “I might even go as far to say the best first date.”

You blushed as you came to a stop outside your building.

“Well this is me.” You shrugged shyly. You wanted him to kiss you, but you weren’t sure what he was thinking.

“Look, I’m not the “cool” guy. I don’t really know what is best practice on first dates and I could very well blow this before it’s even started…” he started, coming closer to you and taking hold of your hands. “But I have had an amazing day. And I just want you to know that if you want it, I’m standing here now promising you forever.”

You felt tears well in your eyes and a shiver passed up your spine at his words. The way he was looking at you was so different from the way anyone had ever looked at you before in your life.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” You smiled and closed the space between you and kissed him.

It was the kind of magical kiss that would live on in your memory for the rest of your life.

“I promised you forever.”

“You did.”

“And I meant it.” He stepped closer again, cautiously.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being yelled across the garden. You turned to see your bridesmaids in the doorway staring at you.

“What are you doing? We need to go!”

“Two minutes I promise!” You called back.

You waited for them to leave before you turned back to Spencer.

“I really need to go.”

“Please Y/N.” He took hold of your hands with an urgency of a man who knew this was do or die time. “I’m not this man Y/N, you know that. I’m not the kind of man that crashes someone's wedding and asks them to run away with me. But that’s how much I love you. I love you more than all the stars in the sky and I always will. So I am here, crashing your wedding and asking you to run away with me.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks all of a sudden. Maybe it’s all you’d wanted to hear from him. You’d waited to hear those words for five long years. But was he too late?

“Spencer,” you sniffed, chewing your lip. “I’m in a wedding dress. I am getting married today.”

“Why do you think I wore my best suit.” He grinned. “I’m not saying don’t get married today Y/N. I’m saying marry the right man. Marry me.”

“You want to marry me? Today?” You gave him a look as though you didn’t believe him.

He let go of one of your hands and reached into his jacket pocket. Seconds later he pulled out two tickets.

“Flights to Vegas. In one hour.” He shrugged. “I’m going, will you be there with me?”

“Are you for real right now?” More tears fell.

“I am very for real Y/N.” He laughed. “We can be married in a few hours. Please, let me make good on my promise. Will you be my forever?”

You looked at his eyes and then at the tickets and back again.

It was all you’d ever wanted, Spencer standing in front of you telling you he wanted to marry you.

And suddenly, the choice didn’t seem so hard.

“Yes Spencer Reid,” you smiled. “Yes I will be your forever.”

And with that you pulled him by the hand and the two of you started running. Running towards your future.

Your future that was always meant to be you and Spencer. He was your forever.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x fem!reader #spencer x you

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