#first they crush me and then they pour this on my remains

[elysiaheaven]

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫..?-𝟐𝟗-(The Fox's Wedding)

TW: There's a medical report about the wounds/mental state for y/n, it's slightly..Don't read it if you're uncomfy about the last two chapters of her wounds.

Feixiao strides over to you, her face lighting up with rare joy. "The Warhead has been defeated and slain. The Wolftroopers are no longer a threat, completely overwhelmed by the Cloud Knights." Her excitement is contagious, and for a moment, you find yourself smiling despite the weight on your shoulders.

Moze called her, Apparently

Moze rush into the place, and they bear Jiaoqiu's limp form between them. Feixiao’s smile falters as she notices Jiaoqiu at death's door. Her voice cracks slightly, but she looks at you with a glimmer of hope. "They found Jiaoqiu. He’s… he’s alive, but barely."

You try to hold on to that sliver of hope, but suddenly, a sharp pain erupts in your neck. Your smile fades as you cry out, clutching at your throat. Panic grips you, and through the haze of agony, you manage to rasp, “I… I can’t live…”

Feixiao rushes to you, alarmed. “What’s happening? What do you mean?”

With shaking hands, you manage to get out, “Moze… Ask him… Ask him if Jiaoqiu can see anything.”

Feixiao’s eyes widen, but she quickly sends a message to Moze. Time seems to stretch on endlessly before a reply comes through.

She reads it aloud, her voice heavy. “Moze tried… but Jiaoqiu kept whispering… he can’t see.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach, and you grip your head in frustration, tears spilling down your face. “No… no, this can’t be happening…”

Suddenly, a wild idea bursts into your mind. Desperation pushes you to your knees in front of Feixiao. “Feixiao, you have to kill me!”

Feixiao takes a step back, shock and sorrow flashing in her eyes. “What are you saying?!”

You look up at her, your tear-streaked face filled with raw pain. “My soul… it can heal someone. That’s why Jiaoqiu kept dealing with me. He was trying to save me, but… now he needs to be saved. If I die, my soul could heal him. If not, he’ll stay blind.”

Feixiao’s hand shakes, and for a moment, you think she might consider it. But instead, she takes a deep breath and then slaps you, the sharp sting of her palm snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. "How can you say that?" Her voice trembles with both anger and compassion. "Jiaoqiu cares about you more than you realize. How could you think of dying without even asking him? You are not some cure, some sacrifice to be thrown away. You are worth more than your past and your pain!"

You clutch your stinging cheek, shocked into silence as Feixiao continues. “Stop dooming yourself. Your past was sad, I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep letting it control your future. Do you think Jiaoqiu would want this for you? Do you think he saved you just for you to throw your life away like this?”

Tears pour down your face as you cry out in confusion and pain, your voice breaking. "I don’t even know what I am anymore! What kind of creature am I supposed to be? I want to live, but I want to be useful!" The words spill out in a desperate torrent, torn between your need to be needed and the crushing weight of your self-doubt.

Feixiao’s face twists with a mix of sympathy and frustration, and without warning, she slaps you again, harder this time. "Stop this!" Her voice is sharp, commanding. "You want to die, but have you even spoken to Jiaoqiu? Do you know what he wants before you decide to leave him alone like this? How can you make a choice like that without asking him first?!"

Your body shakes from the slap, but before you can respond, Yunli and Yanqing rush into the room. Yunli, wide-eyed with panic, immediately bursts into tears, her small hands gripping your bloodstained kimono as she sobs. "Don’t die! Don’t leave us! Uncle Jiao will be so sad if you go!"

Yanqing kneels next to you, his young face full of worry, but he remains steady as he speaks. " you’re hurt. Please, you need to see a doctor."

You try to push them away, your voice cracking as you scream, "No! Don’t look at me! I’m broken!" Your tears blur your vision, and your voice is choked with grief. "I don’t deserve your kindness. I’m a mess!"

But despite your protests, Yunli throws her arms around you, refusing to let go. "We don’t care! ! Please, you can’t go like this. You need help. You need to heal."

Yanqing nods in agreement, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. "We’ll get you to a doctor. Your wounds… they’re too much to bear alone."

Their warmth, their unwavering love, breaks down the walls you've tried so hard to keep up. You sob even harder, collapsing into their embrace, your body trembling with the force of your anguish. In that moment, their arms around you are the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

Feixiao watches the scene unfold, her expression softening as she steps forward. "You're not alone, Y/N. Don’t make decisions you can’t take back without knowing how much you mean to the people who love you. You have helped...a lot..." She kneels down beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We’ll get through this. Together."

Kindness.

It does feel like that..

it felt...

It felt like you didn't worth it.....

Your consciousness slipped away, everything became a blur. Faint images flickered in your mind—a blur of faces, soft voices, and the sterile smell of a medical room. You saw glimpses of Jiaoqiu, lying in a bed beside yours, his body covered in bandages, his face peaceful but pale. The small dragon lady, Bailu, moved around, her tiny hands glowing with healing light. You felt her magic working on you, mending the delicate stitches on your neck, the place where your head had once been reattached. But the rest of your body was weak, fragile, barely holding on.

Jiaoqiu's report arrived fast, Yours was a bit late.

The report came in the form of a thick stack of papers, detailing every brutal reality of your physical and mental condition. Feixiao sat with it for hours, her eyes tracing over the words, her heart sinking with every line. The medical description of your body was enough to send shivers down her spine, but she read it through, refusing to look away from the horror of it.

"Patient: Y/N L/N" Status: Severely Weakened

The first section was the hardest to read. Your body, once resilient and powerful, was now described as "extremely weak in strength." There were "multiple cuts," deep gashes, and bruises, but it was the description of your beheading that struck Feixiao the hardest. "The neck wound, where the head was severed, is slowly healing itself… but the process is delayed, likely due to the patient’s extreme physical and mental exhaustion."

Wounds:

Severe lacerations across the torso and limbs, consistent with multiple slashes from sharp objects.

Beheading wound, poorly healed and still prone to reopening under stress.

Feet: multiple strain wounds, cuts, and punctures, possibly from stepping on something sharp. "Walking is strongly advised against for several months."

Deep lacerations across the arms, as though the patient had been held down violently, struggling against restraints.

Feixiao paused, her fingers gripping the paper tighter. "Restrained…?" she whispered under her breath, horrified at the idea of you being forced down, helpless.

The report continued, detailing the internal damage.

Internal Condition:

Organs: Extensive internal strain. Multiple signs of poison consumption over time. "The patient has ingested various poisons, which are slowly destroying internal tissues. Fortunately, due to their non-human nature, full destruction has not occurred, but their transition to becoming human is accelerating the damage."

Severe dehydration and malnutrition. The patient cannot consume savory foods or most sweets due to their body's extreme sensitivity, leading to involuntary twitching, convulsions, and pain.

The report detailed how your body reacted violently to food. Anything spicy, savory, or overly sweet triggered uncontrollable spasms and vomiting. Your stomach was fragile, torn apart from within by the poisons you had consumed. The mention of it made Feixiao’s chest tighten—how long had you been poisoning yourself? Why?

But worse than all of this was your mental state:

Mental Condition:

"The patient’s mind is in a critical state. We advise keeping the patient away from any reflective surfaces, especially mirrors. The patient should also be kept far from any sharp objects or weapons."

Extreme psychological trauma. Frequent dissociation from reality. Paranoid tendencies.

Self-hatred manifests in compulsive behaviors. Unpredictable outbursts of emotion, alternating between hysteria and deep melancholy.

Feixiao stared at this section for a long time, feeling a knot form in her throat. You were broken, physically and mentally shattered. You had been slipping away from yourself, from reality. She felt her heart break at the thought of you, wandering alone, not knowing if you even wanted to live.

A final note from Bailu, written in hurried handwriting, stood out:

"This person, condition is...hard to say. But there is a hope if her in-human things could cure her faster, I advice she should be in constant company."

Feixiao set the report down, her hands trembling. She couldn’t imagine the pain you were in, both in your body and your mind. You were losing yourself, trapped between life and death, between the human and the spirit world.

Feixiao sighed, resting her head in her hands....

.........

She shouldn't have slapped you, she thought......

[typhoonstrikes]

『TRIGUN STAMPEDE』  episode 4  「HUNGRY!」  preview

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k 

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt. 

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat. 

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too. 

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well. 

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause. 

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun. 

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years. 

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled. 

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!” 

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love). 

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.” 

“It’s raining.” 

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?” 

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.” 

“How’d you figure?” 

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface. 

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall. 

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.” 

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?” 

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.” 

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.” 

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash. 

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?” 

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.” 

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole. 

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it. 

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.” 

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?” 

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries. 

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it? 

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself. 

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says. 

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek. 

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume. 

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom. 

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full. 

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.” 

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.” 

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you. 

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies. 

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn. 

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!” 

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.” 

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.” 

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease. 

“Take the towels, loser.” 

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin. 

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life. 

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you. 

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain. 

Eddie just stares at you. 

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry. 

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic. 

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh. 

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.” 

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?” 

“What?” 

“Eddie, are you okay?” 

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“I don’t have any underwear.” 

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry. 

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose. 

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says. 

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.” 

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.” 

“I’m twenty one.” 

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.” 

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks. 

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes. 

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?” 

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.” 

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Get lost,” Eddie says. 

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.” 

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved. 

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed. 

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.” 

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?” 

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser. 

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.” 

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on. 

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet. 

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.” 

“It felt important at the time.” 

“Yeah?” 

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him. 

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.” 

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.” 

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder. 

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment. 

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.” 

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head. 

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks. 

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable. 

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.” 

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead. 

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.” 

“What am I doing?” 

“You’re rubbing my arm.” 

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach. 

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest. 

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end. 

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. 

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back. 

Right. Eddie should remember. 

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days. 

“Too much?” 

“The right amount,” he says firmly. 

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this. 

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before. 

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back. 

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.” 

“For me or you?” 

“For me, duh.” 

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.” 

“You think so?” 

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.” 

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.” 

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it. 

“We’re very close together,” you whisper. 

“Super close,” he whispers back. 

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do. 

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?” 

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.” 

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?” 

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?” 

What does Eddie think about it? 

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer. 

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?” 

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly. 

He can’t not give it to you. 

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead. 

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue. 

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur. 

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse. 

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly. 

“You wanted to?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.” 

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy. 

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs. 

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly. 

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency. 

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask. 

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring. 

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door. 

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him. 

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says. 

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?” 

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.” 

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?” 

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.” 

Eddie grins back. 

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring. 

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed. 

“Eyes on the road.” 

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather. 

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.” 

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding. 

He sighs. “No, it does not.” 

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.” 

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.” 

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less. 

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.” 

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw. 

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped. 

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say. 

“Then open it.” 

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?” 

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it. 

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease. 

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier. 

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working. 

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” 

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully. 

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.” 

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended. 

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.” 

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.” 

“Now who’s not funny?” 

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: Wanda can’t keep her eyes - or hands - off of you. She has her way with you, and you’re just happy to let your long-time crush ravish you.

content warnings: smut, cunnilingus, fingering, slight possessiveness, slight overstimulation

word count: 4k+

masterlist

Original Request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Not My Fault

A warm glow of light spills out from the kitchen, and you rub your bleary eyes as you make your way towards it. Your book is clutched in your hand, one finger holding your spot as you follow the source of light, and the delicious smell of freshly brewed tea. The pads of your feet tread softly, protected by thick wool socks that ensure your steps are virtually silent as you wonder who else would possibly be awake at the late hour. 

“Oh,” You stop, taking in the sight before you. The first thing you notice is red hair, cascading down like a waterfall, curled slightly over a slender shoulder. Wanda has her back turned towards you, one hand with multiple silver rings twisting in the air as her magic pours a cup of tea, a single scarlet wisp bringing sugar over and spooning some in. 

Leaning against the doorframe, you smile as you admire your best friend. You had grown close with the witch ever since she arrived at the Avengers compound, and were happy to see her improvement with control over her magic. It had taken a while, but you were glad that Wanda felt comfortable enough to show such common displays of power. In the kitchen, too, her happy place. 

Green eyes meet yours, and Wanda freezes in surprise. Her scarlet magic hovers with uncertainty in the air, sugar sprinkling a light dusting onto the countertop before she recovers. You tell yourself that you imagine the way her eyes rake down your form, and fight the urge to cover yourself up as you step into the kitchen.

“Don’t mind me,” You say, a smirk on your face at the way Wanda blushes slightly. “I was just up reading.” 

Holding up the book briefly as if to further prove your words, you let it drop onto the counter. Curious eyes peer at it, before quickly returning to you as you step closer. Leaning on the space next to Wanda, you ask, “What are you doing up so late?”

Ducking her head, Wanda gingerly takes her cup of tea. “I… couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh?” You ask, gently prodding for more information, but receiving no answer. This time, you don’t have to imagine the way her eyes travel up your bare legs, lingering on your sleep shorts as they slide up further when you cross your legs. 

Deciding to test a theory, and hoping your unrequited crush might be slightly reciprocated, you lean over. From this angle, Wanda has a direct view down the front of your tank top. Her eyes widen slightly, taking in the bare sides and tops of your breasts before coughing awkwardly and sipping her tea. Her eyes remain steadfastly on the steaming liquid before her, and you wonder if she’s burning her tongue. 

“Could you pour me some?” You ask, innuendo slipping between your words, “I’m quite thirsty.”

Green eyes snap to yours, and she sets her mug down on the counter. Instead of making a move towards the teapot, Wanda carefully moves to stand in front of you, as if to give you a chance to escape. You don’t take it.

You turn as she moves, your back pressed against the counter and you raise an eyebrow. Wanad stares right back, fingers trembling slightly as she places them on either side of you, trapping you effectively against the counter. Her face is close to yours, and you can smell her vanilla perfume washing over you and the slight scent of tea as she exhales softly. 

“You look…” Trailing off, Wanda seems to steel herself. You mentally applaud her, urging her to continue, even if it's only with your eyes.

Wanda presses her lips together, biting her bottom lip briefly before saying, “I want to fuck you so badly, it’s keeping me up at night.” She gestures towards her cup of tea on the counter. “As you can see.”

Her candor takes you off guard, and you can only blink at her in surprise. She takes your silence as a sign to continue. 

“I mean…” Her eyes rake down your thin tank top, pausing at your slightly pebbled nipples before continuing their hot trail down your toned legs. You feel goosebumps rise, feeling frozen in place as your best friend appraises you. 

“Just look at you,” One of her hands moves to rest on your hip, pressing you further against the counter as she leans her body against yours. The heat of her skin against yours sends a wave of arousal through you. “Dressed in skimpy clothes for anyone to see, it's almost like you want me to have my way with you.”

“I only dress this way around you.” You blurt out, not wanting her to presume that you always dress this scantily. 

Wanda raises her eyebrows, a pleased smile rolling across her face as she strokes your hip. “Good,” She says, her tone mild even as relief flows through her. You watch her eyes soften, her walls lowering slightly as she appraises you. 

“Now,” Her face grew slightly serious, and you strained your ears as her soft words began flowing. “I’m going to fuck you, either here in the bedroom, I don’t care which one. You have five seconds to decide.”

You barely process the words before she holds up her hand and starts silently counting down from five. Panicking, your mouth gapes for a second before you whisper, “Bedroom.”

A wide smirk makes its way onto her face, and your knees suddenly feel weak. It’s not like she’s never smiled at you before, she’s your best friend, of course she smiles around you. But this time, it's different. This smile is paired with hungry eyes and twitching fingers, her lips far too kissable for you to concentrate. 

“Good choice,” Wanda whispers, moving her lips close to your ear. You don’t even try to hide the shiver that runs down your spine at the action. “Start walking.”

The commanding tone sends another shiver down your spine, leaving a pleasant tingle at your core. You know that your eyes are wide, lips parted slightly as you look at Wanda with a mixture of slight shock and awe. Her ever-watchful green eyes notice, and her smirk widens as she slowly moves to the side, gesturing for you to pass. 

You hope that your steps are confident, measured even, but you know that’s only false hope as you stumble slightly on your way out of the kitchen. Mind racing, you make your way towards your bedroom. 

Wanda liked you back? I mean, you knew she liked women… but she specifically liked you? Your best friend, who you’d been hopelessly in love with for what seemed like forever… wanted you.

You considered slapping yourself, convinced that you were dreaming. Yes! That was it, you had stayed up too late reading your book, and now you were in some sort of horny dream. You’d wake up tomorrow and blush at Wanda across the table, and she’d be none the wiser. 

The door to your bedroom opened, light from the hallway spilling across your plush carpet as Wanda stepped inside. She shut the door softly behind her, green eyes peering at you through the dim lighting, and your heart jolted. 

It wasn’t a dream. You weren’t sure what to do, your hands seeming too clumsy at the moment. Your tongue felt weighted down with lead, lips parted as you just stared at Wanda. Standing awkwardly near the center of your bedroom, you felt your heart race as Wanda held out her hand, silently ushering you toward her. 

With shaky footsteps, you managed to cross the room, your eyes questioning as you stepped up to Wanda. She was lingering by the door, and as soon as you were within arms reach, she grabbed you by the waist and spun you around. 

A surprised gasp left your lips as your back hit the wall. Wanda’s body pressed flush against you, warmth spreading from your thighs up to your chest as she trapped you against the wall. Not that you were complaining, this was the best moment of your life. 

“Can I kiss you?” Wanda’s voice was soft, only a hint of uncertainty woven into her words, and you raised your hands to cradle her cheeks. Fingers gently stroking over her soft skin, you smiled when she nuzzled against your palm slightly, her breaths biting your cheeks as you flushed. 

“Of course you can,” The words were murmured, your eyes focused on her lips as her hands tightened over your waist. 

“Good, because I’m going to kiss you a lot from now on,” Wanda says, and you don’t have any time to process her words before her lips are pressed against yours. 

There are no words to describe what kissing Wanda Maximoff felt like. Time suspended its relentless march, and it felt as though the world had dissolved under the soft touch of her lips moving against yours. You could practically hear your heart singing out, symphonies rising like a never-ending crash of waves as the heat of her lips spread through you. 

A soft, probing tongue ran along your bottom lip, and you let out a moan. Wanda eagerly swallowed it, delighting in the way your lips parted for her. Her thigh slipped between your legs, pressing deliciously against your core as you gasped. 

Your tongues danced together, and it felt so good that you didn’t have time to overthink your actions. You were simply doing what felt good, and everything with Wanda felt good. The kiss grew slightly sloppy, your lips parting further as you panted, arousal shooting through you as you ground down against Wanda’s thigh. 

Insistent fingers pulled at the hem of your tank top, briefly sliding under the thin material to splay over your stomach. You mentally thanked Natasha for the daily reminders to hit the gym when Wanda moaned at the feeling of your abs. 

“Can I take this off?” Wanda asked, and you almost laughed. If it weren’t for her body pressing you against your wall, you would have already stripped yourself of all clothing at this point. 

“Yes, Wanda. You can do anything you like,” Your words spurred her on, a wide smile flashing at you before your tank top was pulled smoothly over your head and tossed somewhere on the floor. 

Something shifted as soon as Wanda had pulled that first item of clothing off. Her pupils dilated, her hands scraping down your sides and grabbing your breasts roughly as she reattached her lips to yours. This time, she had no qualms about sinking her teeth into your bottom lip, and you couldn’t help but moan. 

It was like something had taken over your best friend, her movements frenzied as she slipped her fingers under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You weren’t too concerned, happy to keep kissing her as your fingers wove themselves into her beautiful red hair. 

Beautiful. Of course, that would be the only word you could describe Wanda as. She truly was, with her soft smiles and gentle touches. Evidently, her touch could also send fire coursing through your veins, her fingers rough as they pressed you tightly against the wall. You absolutely loved it. 

Your shorts quickly joined your discarded tank top on the floor, Wanda’s fingers skating around your underwear. You took the chance to pull at her shirt instead, your lips detaching briefly as you gazed at her. 

“Take it off,” Wanda mumbled, her lips glistening. “Take it all off.”

Not willing to disobey a direct order, you gladly peel her shirt off. Wanda blushes under the force of your stare, your eyes widening as you take in her smooth skin and perfect chest. Her bra cups her breasts gently, and you’re suddenly jealous of the firm fabric, wishing it was your hands holding her instead. 

Quick fingers unclasp her bra, the item falling to the floor as you fulfill your wish, hands cupping her breasts as a smile spreads across your face. Wanda moans as your thumbs brush over her nipples, the pebbled nubs already achingly hard as she arches her back, pressing her chest further against your touch. 

“You’re beautiful,” Your words flow like a prayer, filling the space between you two as Wanda stares at you. 

“I…” She can’t find the right words to respond, tears springing into her eyes as she lets her mouth crash against yours. Her own fingers pull her sweatpants down, kicking them off as she continues to ravish your mouth with her impossibly soft lips. 

The hands around your waist no longer tremble, instead confident with their movements as Wanda slowly spins you away from the wall. She presses against you still, each of you taking small steps until the backs of your legs hit the bed. 

A firm hand against your sternum pushes you backward, and you sit down heavily as your lips part from hers. Her eyes are dark and piercing, the air feeling heavy around you as you tremble slightly underneath her gaze. 

Your hands make their way to her thighs, pulling her onto your lap as you marvel at her soft skin. You’ve been dreaming of running your hands along her body for months now, and you can’t quite believe that Wanda is letting you. 

A small gasp leaves Wanda’s mouth, the warm air hitting your parted lips as she slots herself perfectly onto your lap. Your hands aren’t rough, but they’re not gentle either as you pull her with you toward the center of the bed. Soft yet insistent lips return to yours as you let yourself be slowly pushed down into the mattress. 

“Is this okay?” Wanda asks, her voice low. Her hands are stroking your breasts, thumbs flicking gently across your hard nipples. You can feel her damp underwear against your pelvis as she straddles you, and can’t help the way your hips roll against her. 

“Yes, it's more than okay. Please don’t stop.” At your words, Wanda’s hips grind down slightly, smearing her arousal onto your skin, and you let out a low moan as your breaths become slightly shaky. 

It’s everything you’ve been dreaming of, better even. You don’t ever want this moment to stop, especially when Wanda leans down and starts kissing you again. Yeah, you hope this moment never ends. 

It ends, and you try not to cry. 

Wanda sits up, her lips swollen and eyes bright. Your fingers tighten on her thighs, urging her hips to move, wanting to see those perfect lips fall open as she loses herself in pleasure. She just smirks at you, a single eyebrow raising and letting you know that she is aware of what game you’re playing. 

“Patience, darling.” The words are teasing, and you sigh. Your eyes don’t leave her form, skating over her nude chest as your mouth fills with saliva. The urge to taste her skin wells up, and you lick your lips as your eyes zero in on her nipples. 

Movement distracts you, Wanda’s fingers coming into focus as you shift your attention. She’s taking off her rings, slowly, and you nearly cum from the sight. Her green eyes are boring into yours, a predatory look in them as she plucks her delicate rings off one by one. 

Her fingers are bare, the rings resting innocently in the palm of her hand, and you feel a wave of anticipation rise within you. Wanda leans forward, her breasts tantalizingly close to your mouth as she sets the rings down on the bedside table. They clink lightly together as they hit the hardwood, the sound jarring you as you crane your neck toward her. 

Just before your lips can rest against her smooth skin, Wanda leans back again, a chuckle erupting from her at the stricken look on your face. Her fingers reach up and pull her hair back into a ponytail, her sharp features looking soft in the dim lighting of your room. 

“Just relax,” She advises, and you want to protest when she moves her weight off of you. Any words threatening to escape are quickly silenced when she kneels between your legs, her hands pushing them open. 

“Fuck,” You manage, the word spilling out as soon as Wanda’s tongue makes contact with your dripping core. It’s curious, yet deliberate as she explores your drenched folds and expertly avoids your protruding clit. 

Strong hands hold your squirming hips down, and you try not to moan too loudly as you feel yourself grow more desperate. She’s purposefully avoiding your clit, denying you any true pleasure as she collects your juices on her tongue eagerly. 

Placing a tentative hand on her head, fingers playing with her ponytail, you wait until her green eyes meet yours. She looks up, and you nearly cum from the sight alone. Her eyes meet yours, tongue buried in your pussy as she smirks slightly. You tug slightly on her hair, asking a silent question. 

Nodding, Wanda smiles wider as your hand wraps fully around her ponytail, pulling her face flush against you. Your hips rut up, seeking that delicious pressure against your clit, and you finally feel her lips wrap around it. 

Wanda’s cheeks hollow, and you feel her suck your aching clit into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it, and your back arches off the mattress as you feel the first tendrils of your orgasm race toward the surface. 

There’s a high-pitched whining sound, and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s you. Wanda looks immensely pleased, happily sucking and licking your throbbing clit as you hold her against you. Your face is flushed, legs trembling around her as you grind yourself against her talented mouth. 

With a few more strokes of her talented tongue, your clit throbs violently as a deep, aching pressure makes its way through you. Wanda can feel your cum spilling out, and she eagerly laps it up as you pant and moan above her. Your fingers have a vice-like grip on her hair, and she can’t help but feel her own arousal climb at the sensation. 

Your hands start pushing her away, the pleasure quickly becoming overstimulating. Wanda practically growls, her hands capturing your wrists and she leans over your still trembling body. Pressing them above your head, she kisses you deeply, and you moan at the taste of your own arousal coating her lips. 

“We’re not done until I say we’re done,” There’s an air of finality in her tone, and you bite your lip to stop any arguments from escaping. She continues, mumbling against your inner thigh while she waits for you to calm down slightly, “I’ve waited far too long for this to be over so soon.”

You let out a moan at her words, silently agreeing with her. Probing fingers make their way towards your swollen pussy, gathering your slick juices before Wanda brings them to your mouth. Your arousal is still warm, coating your lips before you slowly part them. 

Wanda’s fingers are heavy against your tongue, and you start sucking automatically. Her other hand disappears between your thighs, fingers sliding along your slit and gently rubbing your clit. Green eyes are locked on her fingers as she begins pumping them in and out of your mouth. 

“God,” Her voice is low, a raspy tone intermingling with her slight accent. “You look so pretty with my fingers in your mouth, sweetheart.”

You moan again, not caring how pathetic the sound is, not when your best friend lights up as you suck her fingers harder. 

“Oh, a praise kink.”

“Shut the fuck up,” You say, but there’s no venom behind your words, and they come out as a muffled, “Shmgh thm fmmph uhh.”

Wanda smirks, “Don’t be a brat.” 

You try to protest, but suddenly her fingers shove even further into your mouth, and you focus on not gagging as you feel a single finger slip inside your wet pussy. It's the best thing you’ve ever felt and you immediately want to beg for more. But, it’s a bit hard to do that with fingers buried deep in your mouth. 

Almost as if she’s reading your mind, Wanda slips another finger inside you, both of them knuckle deep in your pussy as she feels you clench desperately around her. It’s laughably easy to start thrusting, her fingers sliding in and out of you easily as wetness coats them. 

Curling her fingers, Wanda feels your muscles tighten further when she presses against that spongy spot of pure pleasure deep inside you. Smiling, she fucks you faster, watching you droll around her fingers as your eyes roll back when she repeatedly hits your g-spot. 

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well,” She delights in the choked moan that escapes you at her words, every fantasy of hers playing out as she fucks you dumb. Wanda had always wondered what you would sound like in the throes of ecstasy, and it was even more angelic than she imagined. 

Her fingers curl again, and your entire body seems to seize up. Your fingers scrabble weakly against her forearm, one hand gripping the sheets with white knuckles as your second orgasm washes over you. 

Wanda fucks you through it, slowing only briefly when the pleasure threatens to turn painful. Before long, you’re rolling your hips again as you attempt to grind down on her fingers, and Wanda can find it in herself to deny you. 

She fucks you through another orgasm, before roughly pulling her fingers from your mouth and attaching her lips to your clit again. The dual pleasure of her fingers deep inside you while her tongue quickly flicks against your clit sends you straight into another orgasm before the first one is fully finished. 

You lose count of how many orgasms Wanda gives you, pleasure ebbing and flowing through your body as her presence invades every corner of your consciousness. Her vanilla perfume clings to your damp skin, her green eyes piercing even when you close your own. Her lips, soft and incessant as her tongue never tires. Her teeth, marking your skin and claiming you as hers. 

At one point, Wanda allows you to eat her out, your legs still trembling while she gently strokes your clit as your tongue eagerly laps up her leaking arousal. You wrap your arms around her thighs, holding her against you and drawing three orgasms from her while she shakes and gasps above you. 

You’re rewarded with a passionate makeout session, her fingers bringing you to your final orgasm while her tongue thoroughly explores your mouth. Your lips tingle when you pull away, parted as the last tendrils of your pleasure are pulled through you. 

Finally, you gently push Wanda’s hand away from the slick mess between your thighs, something in your eyes telling her that you’re truly finished. 

“Wanda, I…” You trail off, not really knowing what to say, still catching your breath. 

A chuckle sounds out, and Wanda nuzzles her face into your neck, inhaling deeply. She curls around you, breathing deeply as you hold her. “You don’t have to say anything, I know.”

“No,” You tilt her chin up, wanting to look her in her eyes. “I need you to understand something.”

A worried look appears in your best friend's eyes, and you curse yourself for your terrible wording. As she begins to pull away, you place your lips against hers, feeling Wanda sigh into your mouth as your hand pulls her back against you. 

“I really like you,” The words are whispered against Wanda’s lips, her green eyes boring into yours. “I need you to know that I’m not just here for sex, as amazing as it is. I want something more with you. I want us to create something… meaningful.”

“I want that too, idiot,” Wanda shoves you playfully, “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You chuckle, too tired to formulate many more words. Wanda snuggles closer, her breaths evening out as she wraps an arm around your waist. 

“Oh, fuck.” You say, and Wanda feels a vague sense of alarm shoot through her tired brain. She looks at you inquiringly, and you grin sheepishly down at her. 

“The tea has gone cold.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff

[wbtsan]

SEX BUDDIES͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏. ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏J.YUNHO

synopsis. ever since yunho gave you an idea of being sex buddies, you couldn't really say no to him. considering the fact that he's been your longtime crush for ages, he surely wouldn't notice. right?

au. student!yunho x student!female!reader | tags. unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), make out session, sexual content, semi-public sex, dirty talk, praising, mentions of y/n, nicknames (princess, baby etc) | rating. mature | wc. 680+

authors note. i want to go back to the time where i first watched the 'wake up' performance for the first time because WHAT THE FUCK?? who expected them to do this shit? definitely not me!!

networks. @newworldnet

-

"so is that a yes?" yunho questions. yunho just asked you to become his 'sex buddy' while you're here blankly staring at him, wondering what he just said. "hello? earth to y/n?" he says as he waves his hand infront of your eyes. "huh? what? yeah! sorry my bad." you say, getting yourself out of your daydreaming. "is that a yes to become my sex buddy?" yunho once again questions. "um, yeah sure. let's just take it slow though alright?" you say. its your first time actually having sex, but you just wouldn't get the courage to actually tell him. you thought that if you told him, he would distance himself from you. hopefully this wouldn't happen, right?

-

out of all the places, you had to be in a bathroom stall. making out with yunho. how? you guys were happily shopping, looking in a shopping store for new outfits when all of a sudden, yunho just decides to whisper in your ear, "im feeling really horny princess. let's stop the shopping for a bit, deal?" he says, smirking. your face instantly turns red. "yunho! not in public!" you whisper-yelled, hitting his shoulder. "no one's gotta know about it. we'll be quick." yunho whispers. you sigh, accepting defeat and following him to one of the closest bathrooms.

-

"mmm. you're fucking delicious, like sweet, ripe peaches. you're so wet and im going to lap up every.single.fucking drop." yunho's hands pushed into her hair without her even telling him too. you wanted his on mouth on yours, but you wanted to get to taste him too. oh boy, his tongue pressed against your pink, wet pussy in just the right way. "oh yunnie, yes." your legs wobbled a little as he pushed you higher and higher. then they outright shook. another minute of having him lick and suck and her knees were going to give out under you. they'd end up as a pile on the floor. you gripped yunho's hair tight and tried to hang on. you might have too if if he hadn't made that damn sexy low growling sound. hearing yunho actually enjoy going down on you was more than you could handle. you threw your head back on the door of the stall and groaned through your orgasm, your legs giving out and your body went into overload. luckily, you didn't end up on the floor as yunho catcher you swiftly, holding onto you. "don't worry, i got you."

the unrelenting stretch drove the oxygen from your lungs, and your body involuntarily bucked and twisted as you struggle to accommodate him. "please.." you weren't sure whether you were either begging him to stop or make you come. both. neither. it didn't matter. all you knew was you craved something only he could give and you desperately hoped yunho could figure it out on his own because you could barely do something, not even remember your name because of how thick his dick was. yunho gripped your thighs to hold you in place while he withdrew. slowly, until just the tip of his cock was inside you. then he thrusts back in. deeper. faster. harder. any remaining coherence shattered as he fucked you against the door with so much force it rattled your bones.

everything blurred. your nails dug into his shoulders as squeals and whimpers poured out of you, mingling with yunho's grunts and the definitely not child friendly clapping. your entire body was on sensory overload. no matter how much you took, it wasn't enough. more. you need more. yunho's teeth grazed against your neck. "still think im boring?" his taunt whispered into your ear with a particularly savage thrust. white-hot sensation ripped through you. tears leaking from your eyes, and you bucked like an unbroken filly, wild animal. his groans fill the stall as his hot white cum fills you up. "yeah, take all that cum baby. you better keep it in you, got it?" he says, chuckling softly before removing himself from under you. "alright, hurry up. we need to continue shopping. we'll continue this later, alright?"

[rinhaler]

I Guess I Can't State My Feelings Too Soon

Your big brother is jealous and he hates himself for it :(

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ step brother!taiju shiba x f!reader

Genre: porn! (minimal plot) Notes: my first tokyorev fic since i moved blogs wheeee did NOT think it would be taiju but i cannot stop thinking about that man Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, stepcest!, jealousy ♡, possessiveness, co-dependency, virgin!reader, male masturbation ♡, sex toys ♡, porn consumption, panty theft ♡, unhealthy relationship, power dynamics. Words: 3.5k

He often wonders if you realise how ungrateful you come across, sometimes. Not only ungrateful, but disrespectful to boot.

Do you know how hard your big brother works? You’ll say you do, if he were to ask. But he’s sure you have no idea. He shielded you from the horrors of his world as you were thrust upon him out of nowhere. His new, beautiful step-sister who’s eyes would spill tears around raised voices. What choice did he have? You’d never understand or be able to comprehend his way of life or the world he had built for himself and his family.

As your other siblings grew up and drifted away, Taiju kept you dependent on him. He made it so you had to rely on him for everything. He’s putting you through fashion school while subsidizing your very existence. He keeps you fed and clothed all in the comfort of his beautiful penthouse.

You want for nothing.

And he’s never made you feel inadequate for your obvious dependency.

He doesn’t use it as a weapon or hold it against you. He just adores you, wholly. His beautiful little sister, the sweet little darling who needs her big brother to do everything for her. It motivates him, truthfully. When things feel hard, mundane, tedious, he reminds himself who he’s doing it for.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Takashi.” you smile, giddily, waving like a schoolgirl with a crush as you watch him leave.

He waves, too. A wide grin on his face as his eyes scrunch up with joy. It soon fades, though, as he finds himself accidentally walking right into your brother’s chest. Taiju’s expression harrows, though you don’t register it as you focus on the way Takashi smiles at you before excusing himself.

You’re ungrateful, and disrespectful.

His neck and jaw jerk as he tears off his tie. He’s visibly irritated, but you’re too naïve to realise. You greet him, excitedly, though you’re soon left feeling dejected when he opts to ignore you instead.

“Get me some wine from the cellar.” he demands. Without a please or even a glance in your direction, you know something is wrong. You’ve never been one to deny him, however, slinking away to the lounge to retrieve an aged red from the wall-built cellar.

He looks at you when you return, sliding the bottle to him across the marble countertop of the kitchen island separating you. It’s a brief look, that makes your heart throb with hurt. He’s mad at you, but you don’t know why. Soft yellow eyes that only offer gentle glances are showing you a side to your brother you didn’t know existed.

His pupils are almost slitted like a wild animal, eyes you’ve never seen before where your brother is concerned. He sighs, watching the cogs clank in your brain as you try and analyse who this man is before you.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t think he’s capable of staying angry with you.

“Would you like a drink, little sister?” he questions. It stops you from thinking, momentarily.

It’s a first. He’s never let you drink before, let alone his prized cellar wine. You take a seat on the bar stool regardless, nodding excitedly at the prospect of having your first real drink with your favourite brother. He twists off the lid and slides the glass he’d gotten for himself over to you.

Your heart rate quickens as his eyes, those same, predatory eyes, remain fixated on you as he pours. The wine spills like blood, sloshing into your glass until it’s halfway full. And somehow, without even watching what he’s doing, he managed to not spill a drop.

He takes off his blazer and sets it down on the counter. You watch him as he rolls up his sleeves and turns away from you to fetch another glass for himself. His muscles flex and you see his exposed, veiny arms sheen with sweat as he reaches up to grab the nearest glass.

“Pour it for me.” he tells you, setting it down as he turns to face you again. His eyes seem tired, now, but still unfamiliar to you. And so you find yourself nodding, doing exactly what your big brother has asked as your hairline begins to form beads of sweat.

You don’t look at him, not even briefly, as you start to pour. You’re slow and patient, but you feel him staring at you all the while. And it’s menacing. Even with patience and focus, you spill a drop onto the pristine marble.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him.

You move to find something to wipe it up with, but he stops you before you can even jump down from the stool. He presses his thick thumb into the cherry red liquid, seemingly absorbing it all before he raises it to his lips. You watch keenly as your brother’s tongue juts seductively from his lips before he meticulously licks over the pad of his thumb to taste it.

He clears his throat and leans across countertop.

You feel so small.

“Was that your boyfriend?” he wonders, eyes glued to you as he speaks with a low, gravelly tone. He sips soon after, making mental notes of your responses as you process his words.

“U-Um, no, Taiju,” you shake your head. You feel blistering heat in your face as you think about your classmate, and the intimate thoughts you’ve had about him for weeks now, all while your brother’s attention is entirely fixed on you. “We’re in the same class! He came to drop off some books he thought might help me.”

It’s a confession that is entirely the truth. He isn’t your boyfriend and you’re sure he never will be. Not unless he makes the first move, that is. You’re far too shy to even suggest that your feelings for him a more intense than they should be for simple classmates. Taiju nods, finally looking away from you as he takes another drink.

“Finish up and go to bed.” he commands.

You nod, too nervous to argue. You’ve never seen him like this or even heard him be so curt with you. It won’t bother you to go to bed, not one bit. Hopefully tomorrow he’ll be back to his usual, loving self.

He leaves you alone as he strides towards his study, finally giving you the chance to breathe. You knock back the remainder of your wine and pick up your book bag and school supplies, your pace hastening as you get closer to your room.

“Oi.” Taiju speaks, voice booming through the hallway before you can open the door to your bedroom. He leans against the doorframe to his office, arms folded as his eyes squint at you. “If you want to have people over, clear it with me first.” he demands.

“Oh,” you sigh, and it’s riddled with relief as you realise that is what the problem has been all along. He’s upset you’ve invited a stranger into his home without asking. It’s understandable, and you’re soon smiling again as you look at him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.” you admit, regretting it almost instantly as it soon feels irrelevant to have said.

“I don’t want boys I don’t know here alone with my little sister.” he tells you.

He approaches, and your anxiety soars once again as you sense a looming threat in the air and the shortening distance between the two of you. He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, your breath hitching at the contact while he forces you to look into his saffron gaze.

“You are very dear to me,” he confesses, “If anyone were to take advantage of you… well. You’re going to do as I ask next time, aren’t you? We won’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course… I’m so sorry, I should have—”

“You should.” he snarls. “But I forgive you. Go to bed, now.”

You nod, feeling slightly more upbeat after hearing he’s accepted your apology. He stops you from retreating to your room, though. His large, heavy hand encasing your forearm in a tight grip whilst his thumb still caresses your chin. It drifts, though, pulling the fat of your lower lip before he pulls it away. He taps his own lip twice, his expression still unamused as he looks at you.

“A goodnight kiss, princess,” he orders. You nod, it’s not out of the ordinary to kiss him goodnight. You stand on your tip toes before leaning in to peck his lips. They’re soft, and fit against yours beautifully as both of your eyes close during the contact. It’s chaste, to the point, and yet you’ve never felt an intensity during a kiss from him like you have just now.

His eyes are gentle, again. And the smile he offers is earnest. He kisses your cheek before you go, whispering in your ear sensually enough for a chill to traverse down your spine.

“Good girl.”

He opens the door to your room, remaining in place until you go inside. He shuts it after you get inside, leaning his back against the nearest wall as his head thuds against it. The cold metal of his rings cools down his flushed face, though he finds himself breathless.

Not from the act of a simple kiss, it’s the shame. Feelings for you, his sweet little sister, bubbling to the surface despite trying to repress them for so many years. He’s jealous and he’s ashamed of himself for letting things go this far. But you are his.

His sister.

His responsibility.

His property.

“Jesus Christ—”

He catches himself. He kicks away from the wall and rakes his fingers through tousled hair as he decides to distract himself with work in his office.

It’s taken blood and sweat to reach what he’s achieved. From being a sixteen year old menace to society, he’s now a highly respectable businessman with a chain of restaurants under his belt. Among other, less legal sources of income, of course.

It’s all for you.

As he looks through business expenses and documents from his lawyers, all he can think of is you.

It’s all been for you.

It’s always been for you.

He pushes his hair out of his face, noticing how it’s starting to cling to his forehead as he sweats profusely. Thoughts of you plaguing his every thought. His cock begins to throb in his slacks. His eyes drift from the papers scattered across his desk to his computer monitor. And then, slowly, they sink to the locked top drawer of his desk.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He ignores the drawer, instead, deciding to ignore his responsibilities as he types Pornhub in the search engine. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he speaks, exasperated as the homepage is flooded with an assortment of trending step sibling videos.

His heart pounds as he scrolls for a while, but eventually finds the willpower to click away, opting to find something else. He’s a simple man with simple taste. He’s always been into rougher stuff, deciding something along those lines will be best to quickly rub one out and clear his mind so he can focus on what he actually needs to be getting on with.

He clicks on a video, immediately cringing at the corny plot and dialogue as he unbuttons his shirt and rids himself of his belt. He’s panting as he pulls out his cock. If he’s been honest, his cock has been leaking since you fetched his wine so obediently.

He hisses when he realises he’s thinking about you again.

And soon enough he’s willing himself to concentrate on the girl in the video getting fucked within an inch of her life. It’s loud, rough, aggressive. Just how he likes. He tugs desperately, a vein popping in his forehead as he eagerly tries to get off to what he’s seeing.

It’s your fault.

He’s wondering if you’d ever be into fucking like this. He’s sure you’re a virgin, so he’d have to be careful with you at first.

“Fucking stop,” he whines.

He wants to cum to her, the girl in the video. It’s a lie, though. He wants to cum to you. He wants to hear how gorgeous you’d sound if he were the one to defile you for your very first time. Your own step brother, infiltrating your walls and making you cum around his cock.

“Shit,” he keeps trying to concentrate on her. His eyes soon wandering to the locked drawer again. He glances one final time at the video, grunting as he continues to fuck his fist until ultimately giving up.

He searches something new. Something he’s never beat one off to before. Softcore virgin. He grimaces as his finger hovers above the enter key, he knows he won’t be able to finish otherwise, but part of him thinks it’s not too late to turn back. His eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the sheer amount of results that are step-sibling videos. He considers it, again. He really does, but as he continues to scroll, he starts to take an interest in the masturbation videos.

The soft, feminine moans immediately make his cock jump. It’s perfect, it’s so sickeningly perfect because he can pretend it’s you. And if he’s this far gone, he feels no need to deprive himself anymore. He lifts up his keyboard, sliding the locked drawer key from a hidden compartment underneath. His hands are practically shaking as he tries to slide it into the slot. He quickly turns, breathing heavily as he almost rips the drawer from its place as he opens it.

He scoffs as his hand flies to a clear fleshlight, yanking it out and setting it down on his desk before he retrieves what he’s really been avoiding this whole time.

You’ve never had to do laundry, and he doesn’t do it either. He hires staff to come through the week to do tedious things like cleaning the apartment and washing dirty clothes. It’s been about a fortnight since he saw an opportunity laid bare before him.

You were at school, a fact now he’s growing to despise as he imagines you flirting with Takashi Mitsuya during your classes. But he was working from home, too irritated to handle business dealings in person on that particular Thursday. And he happened to see a maid emerge from your room with a laundry basket, a frilly pink thong atop a pile of outfits you’d worn through the week to college.

He wrestled with himself, he did.

But it wasn’t too difficult to distract the maid for long enough to pocket them for himself.

The video continues to play, his cock gushing as he stares down at your panties. He’s too far gone. He’s too aroused and his mind is muddied as he thinks about everything going on in his life and yours. You’re too honest to lie, Mitsuya isn’t your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never be.

He snatches the thong and strokes his cock with it in hand. His eyes roll back, a broken moan leaving his lips as he continues to pleasure himself. He stops abruptly, though, as the woman in the video he’s watching stops teasing her clit. She shows off a dildo, slowly rubbing it through her wet folds until she eventually begins to push it inside of herself.

She’s cute, but she isn’t you.

If he closes his eyes, however, she is. He looks to his fleshlight, deeming this the closest he’ll get to fucking you no matter how desperately he yearns for it. He carefully guides his tip into the plastic pussy, moaning a little louder than intended as he bottoms out.

He bites his lip as he recalls the woman in the store squeezing her thighs together as she helped him pick the toy out. It makes him laugh, briefly, as he recalls how forward she had been. He fucked her in the changing rooms as she insisted she’d need to see what he was packing so that she could help him pick the perfect model.

She sent him away with the biggest size.

Your pussy won’t feel like this, though. He’s certain you won’t be so generous and accommodating. Your tight little virgin cunt will fight against him, but he’ll make it fit.

“Jesus, fuck—” he groans, admitting defeat for the final time as he brings your panties to his face and almost suffocates himself with the material.

His chest swells as he inhales, before it deflates with shuddering breaths as he savours the scent of your used unmentionables. He picks up the pace with his toy in tandem with the woman in the video. His moans are boisterous and uncaring, he’s lost the ability to feel shame as he imagines you bouncing on his cock crying his name and trying to become accustomed to his length.

He needs it more than air.

He needs it more than he needs to fucking breathe.

“Shit, ah—” he grunts, he bites his lip as he continues to pound into the fucktoy in his grip. He grunts stridently as he spurts into the fleshlight. He watches through heavy, lidded eyes at the clear plastic, watching how his balls tighten and deposit his creamy load into the faux pussy. “Fuck, Taiju.” he sighs, but laughs as he slowly begins to stroke himself with the toy. He hisses, feeling sensitive from his release as he milks himself of every last drop he can drain.

He exhales breathlessly once he’s done. His chest rising and falling as he allows his body to melt into his leather chair. He looks around the room, and he looks at himself. The crushing reality of what he’s just done weighs down on him. He’s spent, but finds enough energy to put your panties back in the drawer, locking it promptly.

The fleshlight, on the other hand, he leaves out after making space for it on his desk. He winces as it rolls and his sperm begins to drip out onto the glossy, chestnut tabletop. The comedown from is euphoria is like reaching a new low. He can’t even bear to look at the scene of his filthy indiscretion any longer.

But as he’s about to stand, the door swings open.

“Taiju?” you pout.

He scrambles to hide his exposed lower half under his desk and dump some of the papers littering his desk over the sticky fleshlight. He can’t hide the grimace on his face as the corner of one of his documents begin dampen from his cum.

“O-Oh, sorry, I forgot to knock… I should have knocked.”

“Yes, you should.” He says, gruffly, “What is it?”

You’re quiet, allowing your sock covered foot to glide across the wood flooring as you awkwardly look down at them. It’s not like you’re scared to talk to your brother, but you know he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s in here. And you don’t want to embarrass him.

“Answer.” his order startles you, his voice almost thunderous as he commands your attention. Your eyes fill with water, but you bat the tears away as you speak.

“I thought I heard you yelling. Or… in pain.” you tell him, voice below a whisper as you confess you’ve been unintentionally listening. “I thought you might have hurt yourself.”

Pink dusts over his face, you can even see it from only the light of the monitor. He looks around, suspiciously, though you don’t notice or comment on it.

“Why were you listening to me? Can’t you sleep?” he wonders. “… Don’t worry. I’m fine.” he assures you.

“I was worried. A-About earlier. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me… I promise I haven’t got a boyfriend and I’ll never bring anyone here without permission again.”

He smirks at that, all of his teeth bared and you still don’t understand what kind of sick depraved man your big brother really is. Maybe you aren’t as ungrateful or disrespectful as he thought; it was wrong of him to even assume that when you’ve been nothing but a doll the whole time he’s known you.

You poor thing.

You’ve been fretting over your brother’s wellbeing and state of mind since he sent you to bed so long ago. He’s been on your mind this whole time. You’re more like your big brother than you even realise, he thinks.

You’re so timid.

So obedient.

So good.

“You must be so tired, princess…” he coos, and you nod dumbly. He tuts, feeling sorry for your innocent nature and naivety, but sweet little you thinks he’s sympathetic to your exhaustion. “Do you want me to help you sleep? Shall I play with your hair like I used to when we were younger?”

“Really?” you ask, eyes lighting up at the proposition.

“Of course,” he nods, grinning wildly. “What are big brothers for?”

© 2024 rinhaler

[lendeah]

Thank you very much, Gale. Goodnight.

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Reader/Tav

Summary:

Upon reaching the Last Light Inn, your party is informed about the room arrangements: you will have to share rooms in pairs. Fate has it that you find yourself paired with a particularly charming wizard. To add a twist, there's only one bed. or Gale and Tav relive the "there was only one bed" trope.

Tags: Fluff and smut. They are so cute.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), thighs, frottage, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, touch starved Gale.

Note: This was going to be a prompt but it got out of hand. Anyway, a small gift for the Gale girlies (me, I am the Gale girlies). Also, not proofread and english isn't my first language, so be gentle!🫶🏻

"You will have to share rooms in pairs" Yaheira had deadpanned. After our long journey, we finally reached the Last Light Inn. We were hoping for a comfortable bed and some privacy, but our hopes were crushed.

Yaheira didn't seem fazed by our reactions, her expression remaining stoic.

"After all the blood, sweat and tears we poured into saving you lot back there this is the beautiful appreciation we get in return?" Astarion exclaimed dramatically, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Yaheira's cold stare silenced him. "Many soldiers are residing here, sacrificing their own comfort for our cause. Four of them have given up their bedchambers for your stay. You should be grateful," she reprimanded sharply.

The creaky wooden floors and musty smell hinted at the age of the building, but it was a small price to pay for a warm bed and shelter from the danger of the shadows outside. The group stood in a huddle, debating their next move. Wyll's voice rang out confidently "I propose we stay at the camp like we have been doing.".

Karlach's response was immediate and determined: "What, and die in the shadows? No, thank you."

You let out a frustrated sigh, feeling about to faint from weariness. "Guys, we're all exhausted. We should just accept the offer and get some rest. We practically sleep on top of each other every other day anyway."

"Yeah, but not on the same bed." Shadowheart chimed, giving Lae'zel a sly side glance. "And how would we determine who sleeps with whom, anyway?"

Gale, the ever-practical one, interjected: "Perhaps we could employ a method of chance, such as drawing straws, in order to make a resolution?"

So that's how Gale and you end up entering the old dusty and messy bedroom from the last Light Inn. The single bed in the middle seems to be laughing at us.

Gale sighs. "I knew sharing rooms wasn't a good idea. I should just crawl under the bed." He scans the room, eyes coming to rest on the window, with the dark sky looming outside. "I could sleep out there too." He pauses. "The prospect of such a cozy rest is indeed quite alluring. The brisk gusts brushing against my face, as I gaze upwards towards the unobstructed expanse of the starry heavens. Delightful, wouldn't you agree?"

He moves to get out of the door, but you grab his arm, your voice pleading, tinged with desperation from the exhaustion. "Please, Gale, I know it's uncomfortable, but can we just please do this tonight and figure out a better plan tomorrow?"

He swallows, glancing down at your fingers wrapped around his arms. "I-I don't think you realize just how difficult it'll be for me. This bed's too small, and it's too close, and—I can't."

I look at him with my eyes narrowed "If you don't get on the bed in the next five minutes, I am going to use my maze on you. And let me tell you, it hurts"

He looks at me dumbfounded ."...You wouldn't?" You give him a pointed stare. Of course, you don't mean to hurt him, but you are too tired to fight or move for that matter.

He swallows, looking you up and down again. Then he nods and turns toward the bed. "Uh, fine. I guess I'll, uh, get on the bed. However, I cannot guarantee that any peculiar occurrences will not transpire. I mean, not that I expect anything weird to happen. Just, you know, putting it out there. Okay, I'll stop talking now."

Your roll your eyes fondly at his rambling. As Gale awkwardly settles onto the edge of the bed, you quickly change into your undergarments and crawl into the other side. The bed creaks under both of your weight, making Gale flinch. The space feels narrow, forcing you close together. There's barely an inch in between, and any movement sends you brushing up against him. You can feel his body heat radiating off him, a little toasty.

"The dimensions of this bed are rather diminutive," he whispers, staring up at the ceiling under the blanket, unable to make eye contact with you.

"Aren't you sharp" you whisper teasingly.

"It's... it's tiny! How do you expect two fully-grown individuals to successfully sleep in this thing?" He says in an exasperated whisper. It is small, though. Feels like I'm being wrapped in a blanket... Except the blanket is another person.

I sigh in exhasperation, "Gale I am trying to sleep for god's sake!"

Gale shifts uncomfortably, trying to make himself as small as possible on the narrow bed. "I apologize, I didn't mean to disturb your slumber. I just...I can't get comfortable in such confined space."

You let out another sigh, feeling a little bad for him. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault, but is it possible that we exchange our positions? I don't mean to inconvenience you, but I feel like I can't relax like this. I can sleep on the edge of the bed, and you can sleep in the middle."

You look at him, one second away from grabbing your maze for real. "Gale, there is no middle, every part of this damned bed is the edge!"

Gale, is still fidgeting on his side.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter under your breath.

"I know," he responds quietly. "I'm sorry." He bites his lip, looking up at the ceiling again. "It seems as though you are now stuck with me as your blanket," he says, turning his head in your direction. "I hope this arrangement does not cause any discomfort for you... I would not want to impede upon your sleep."

At that, you can’t help but smile fondly back at him "It could be worse," you remark softly. "I could be stuck with Halsin and his incessant snores."

"Halsin snores?" He blinks in genuine surprise. "I never would have guessed. Is it disruptive? Like a storm tearing through the night?"

You roll your eyes. "You wouldn't know, you sleep like a rock all night." Your words are playful, as you nudge him lightly with your elbow.

"I do not! I am an extremely light sleeper, in fact, the slightest noise can jolt me from my slumber. It's quite a remarkable feat, really." His brow furrows. "Wait, does this imply that you have observed me in my sleep?" He blurts out. He is now on his side too, both of us facing each other.

A soft chuckle escapes from your lips, banishing all thoughts of sleep. "Yeah," you remarked with a playful smile, "I must say, you look really cute when you're sleeping."

The moonlight streaming in through the window cast a gentle glow on Gale's face, making your heart swell with affection. His tousled hair and big brown eyes look even softer in this ambience.

His mouth drops open, his eyebrows now shooting up to his hairline. "I do not look cute while I sleep!"

"So cute, with your cheeks all puffed," you say, reaching out to pinch his cheek playfully.

Gale's face flushes a bright red and he turns away, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"I—I'm not cute when I sleep," he whispers." I am powerful! A talented wizard, a master of magic. I do not need to be "cute". And I'm not!" But as he protests, you can't help but notice the way his cheeks flush and how his hair sticks up in all directions, making him look endearingly disheveled. You can't resist the temptation and reach over to tickle his middle. "Cutie!"

"I am not!" he protests, giggling as you tickle him. "Stop it! You're making me... gahahaha!" His laughter bubbles out of him despite his attempts to hold it in.

You laugh too, enjoying the sound of his laughter. "See? Cute."

"I'm not cute!" he gasps out between laughs. "I'm... hahaha... I'm powerful!" He tries to sit up, but you pin him down with your hand on his chest. "You are cute, Gale. And you're adorable when you laugh," you say, looking into his eyes. He looks at you, his cheeks still flushed with laughter and embarrassment. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other before Gale clears his throat and lays on his side again.

"Gale?" I call out softly, hoping to break the silence.

"Yes...?"His voice is barely audible.

Smirking mischievously, you decide to push his buttons a little more.

"You know, I have trouble falling asleep unless I'm cuddled up next to someone." you whisper

He flinches. It takes a moment for your request to fully register, and he stares at you with a mixture of shock and confusion.

"...Are you serious? You want me to cuddle you?"

You nod eagerly, a hopeful smile playing on your lips. "Usually it would be Shadowheart offering, but she's not here right now."

"You want—me, to wrap my arms around you, to..."

His eyes narrow. "Am I hearing you right? You're asking me, to hold you?"

You roll my eyes "Yes Gale, that is usually how cuddling works."

Gale looks at you, taken aback by your request. His face flushes with embarrassment as he considers your words. "Um...I-I'm not entirely certain if that would be a prudent course of action," he stammers out, looking away from you.

"Forget it," Frustration wells up inside of you and you let out a low grunt before turning away to face the opposite side of the room.

"Er- I mean, wait, that wasn't a rejection... " He scoots closer, careful not to touch you. You turn yourself, so you are looking at him again. He looks down at you with a nervous expression. "So if I were to, hypothetically speaking, encircle my arms around your form, you wouldn't object?"

For some reason, your heart skips a beat at the thought of his arms around you.

"Well," you respond playfully. "I would probably say something along the lines of 'thank you very much Gale, goodnight'."

He hesitates for a moment before finally inching closer, his arm hovering uncertainly in the air. With a deep breath, he takes the plunge and wraps his arm around you, pulling you gently against his chest. You let out a surprised gasp, not expecting him to actually cuddle you, but the warmth and comfort that radiate from him are welcome in the cold room. You nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear and inhaling the intoxicating combination of an old book's musty pages and his rich cologne, laced with a subtle hint of sweat. You wrap your arms tighter around his soft body, savoring the feeling of being held in his strong embrace.

"Thank you, Gale" you whisper, intertwining your fingers behind his back. "Goodnight."

As the exhaustion of your journey settles over you, you feel the familiar pull of sleep in your body. However, the moment is disturbed by the feeling of something hard poking your stomach. Your eyes snap open and meet Gale's, who stands there frozen with shock and embarrassment.

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers out, mortified. "I didn't mean for that to happen. It's just been so long and you are so close and..."

Your bodies are still pressend, and you try to make sense of everything. Finally, you laugh softly and pat his arm reassuringly. "It's okay, Gale. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." you say reassuringly, though you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"But... but I didn't mean for this to happen," he repeats, still clearly flustered.

"It's natural," you say calmly, trying to put him at ease. "It happens sometimes when people get close like this."

Gale nods slowly, still looking a little uncertain. He shifts slightly so that the bulge isn't pressing against your body as much anymore. "Thank you for understanding," he says quietly. Your heart swells with affection as you watch him; there is something endearing about his vulnerability in this moment. You have an overwhelming urge to pull him close, to shield him from any harm and take care of him.

A twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience as you watch the flush rise in his cheeks, a direct result of your teasing. You chew on your lip for a moment before an idea strikes you. "Do you... want me to lend a hand?" You offer tentatively, gazing up at him with soft eyes and a gentle tone. His big brown orbs widen in surprise at your unexpected offer. You are also taken aback by your own words, but don't take them back.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. You can see the struggle in his expression as he tries to process what you just said.

"I mean, it's completely up to you," you quickly add, not wanting to pressure him into anything. "I just thought maybe it would help alleviate some of your... discomfort."

He takes a deep breath and looks away from you, clearly embarrassed. Gale hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart races at his acceptance. You were not expecting him to actually agree to your offer, but you are weirdly glad he did. "Okay," you repeat softly, moving your hand down to his waist and pulling him closer. You slowly reach down between both your bodies, gently taking hold of his erection through his pants. Gale gasps softly as your fingers brush against him, sending shivers down his spine. You can feel his breath hitch in anticipation as you start to move your hand up and down. As you gaze up at him, his arms still holding your body, a deep stirring awakens within you. The wizard before you, with his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, is more attractive than you had ever realized. His tanned skin is like velvet against your fingertips, and his long hair falls over his face in gentle waves. Each reaction to your caress, every soft moan that escapes his lips, only adds fuel to the fire growing inside of you. Looking so eager for your touch.

Without hesitation, you lean forward and capture his lips in a gentle kiss. To your surprise, he responds enthusiastically, his hands moving to rest on your face as he pulls you closer to him. You deepen the kiss, your heart racing at the feeling of his warm lips against yours and the subtle tickle of his beard on your cheeks. As you continue to kiss, your hands never stops the gentle strokes on his erection. Gale's moans are becoming louder and more urgent. You can feel his need growing as he grinds against your hand, seeking more friction.

"L-let me touch you" he says between ragged breaths.

You smile at him, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the effect you're having.

"I have a better idea," you say softly, moving your hand away from his erection. You take off your panties, and move on your side in front of him again. Gale lets out a small gasp as you straddle him, feeling the heat of his arousal pressed against your bare thighs.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice thick with both curiosity and lust.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips. "I'm going to give you something even better than my hand to relieve yourself," you purr, swaying your hips in demonstration in a slow, enticing rhythm, that elicits a delicious friction between his cock and the warm heat of your thighs and cunt.

You take one of his hands and guide it to your breast, letting him feel its softness and moaning quietly at the touch. Gale's eyes widen in surprise, gently squeezing it but with his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, reaching up to touch your face with his free hand.

"Thank you, so are you," you reply, leaning down to capture his lips in another tender kiss. He seems to find your praise very arousing, as his breathing quickens and he thrusts his hips upward, seeking more contact with your body. In response, you arch your back and press your chest against him, savoring the feel of his erection against your core and thighs.

"I want you so much," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I've been dreaming of this moment for so long but I never- I didn’t think-“ he gasps at a particularly good thrust.

You're not sure how to answer, so instead you keep whispering sweet nothings in his ear. "You're an amazing kisser, Gale," you say, "you touch me so good..."

He moans in your mouth, gripping your hips harder as he keeps pounding erratically. Your hands move to his hair, pulling from the strands and eliciting a small whine from his throat. You can feel the hardness of his erection brushing against your wet folds with every movement, and it sends shivers of pleasure down your spine. You let out a moan into his lips as his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing small circles that send sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Feeling his arousal growing even more, you know he won't last much longer, so you move your hips in a faster rhythm, grinding against his cock with more urgency.

Gale lets out a low growl, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he matches your movements. The friction between your bodies is almost unbearable, but in the most delicious way possible. As you continue to move together, your breaths growing heavier and more ragged, you can feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm building within you too. Gale seems to be close as well, as he begins to thrust deeper and harder into your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. You can hear the slap of skin and the squelching sound of your now wet thighs.

"Oh, gods," he gasps out, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

His body suddenly tenses up as he comes undone, his hips bucking wildly as he spills himself into the soft skin. For several moments, Gale lies there panting and gasping for breath.

"Oh, gods," he gasps out. "That was...amazing."

You lean and press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling at him as you do.

"I'm glad it brought you pleasure," you whisper softly, running your fingers through his hair.

Suddenly, his skilled fingers find their way back to your core. He seems to sense that you didn't reach climax with him earlier and now he's determined to make sure you do. His touch is intense as he circles and rubs against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You let out a moan, arching your back and grinding against his hand. He watches you with intense desire in his eyes as he continues to pleasure you.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with lust. "I am not going to be able to forget this."

His words only fuel your desire even more, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge once again. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you ride the waves of pleasure, your hips moving in sync with his fingers.

"I want to make you feel good," Gale says breathlessly, kissing along your neck and collarbone. "Tell me what feels good."

You guide his hand lower, signaling for him to enter you with his fingers. He complies eagerly, sliding two fingers inside of you and curling them just right to hit that perfect spot. You cry out in pleasure, your walls clenching around him. You know you are not going to last long, still sensitive from the previous ministrations.

"Thank the heavens and hells," Gale groans, looking at me like I am a work of art. Setting a steady pace with his fingers, he kisses down your chest and takes one nipple into his mouth. The combination of sensations has you teetering on the edge once again.

"I-I'm close," you manage to say between gasps.

"Come for me," Gale whispers against your skin, increasing the speed and pressure of his movements.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue against your hardened nipple, you come undone in a powerful climax that leaves you panting and shaking in Gale's arms. He holds onto you tightly as he continues to pleasure you through the aftershocks.

"That was incredible," he murmurs against your skin as he peppers kisses all over your face.

"Yes it was," you reply dreamily, still basking in the afterglow.

Gale pulls out from between your thighs and settles down next to you, his strong arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. As you press your body closer to his, you feel a subtle shift, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you. Instead of voicing it out loud, you turn to him and whisper,

"Thank you very much, Gale. Goodnight"

[pennylanewrites]

[love in the dark] levi ackerman x f!reader

cw + what to expect: angsty levi thinking he’s not good enough for you, self deprecation, talks of a family and kids, nudity (not sexual), brief mentions of battle scars, swearing, jealousy, alcohol consumption, eventual comfort

levi hated everything he loved about you. you were so loud and talkative and bubbly. always smiling, despite the chaos around you. always caring and laughing and mumbling made-up melodies.

he hated that other people loved those parts of you too. he hated the way erwin would light up when you entered the room, that he somehow found ways to spend more time than needed with you, that hange would tease him playfully about his crush on you, a simple cadet.

but what he hated the most was that he couldn’t speak. he couldn’t kick the living shit out of erwin and punch hange’s stupid face, scream how much he loves you.

because you were a cadet. levi was a captain. it was so inappropriate, him breaking every possible rule and code of honour to be with you.

today was a very bad day. many scouts had lost their lives in an expedition to capture two titans for research. the remaining ones needed an uplift, erwin thought. and now squad leaders, captains, scouts and the fucking commander were sitting in a circle drinking wine.

you couldn’t handle your alcohol. levi was the first person to introduce you to wine, and then whiskey. that was also the first time levi felt old. how young were you that you had never tasted alcohol before?

he smiled to himself at the memory, but the smile faltered when he looked up to see erwin helping you to a couch. you gracefully thanked your commander, slightly embarrassed at how dizzy you were. petra, your friend, looked between you and the commander, giving you a suggestive wiggle of the brows. that didn’t go unnoticed by your captain, whose hand slipped as he poured wine in petra’s glass, turning her white pants a pale hue of red.

something snapped inside of levi as he drank glass after glass of sweet red wine. erwin had so much to offer to you. money, a home, a family. you were listening intently as erwin explained the rules of a card game to you, peering over his shoulder as you sat on the couch and he on the floor.

don’t let your head fall on his shoulder. don’t let your-

a gasp came from levi’s left. of course it was fucking hange.

“i must be boring you.” erwin chuckled when he realised you were falling asleep. “i’ll take you to your dorm.” levi reached the couch with two big steps, protectively standing between you and erwin as you got up.

“i’ll take her.” he was throwing daggers at erwin with his gray eyes, and erwin was surprisingly returning the gaze.

“you don’t have to, captain. take your rest today.” erwin was not giving it up. he gave levi a pleading look, as if saying let me have this, friend.

you’re not my fucking friend, replied levi.

“she’s my soldier, erwin.” you pulled on levi’s jacket, after making sure no one saw. a silent please stop. “lead the way, cadet. you can walk, i assume.” he was cold. more than usual, barely letting you say your good nights to the room.

was he mad at you? you weren’t the one making advances, it was erwin. you didn’t know how to politely turn your commander down, nor did the alcohol running through your veins allow you to.

“your room is that way, is it not?” levi stopped sharply, making you hit his back.

“levi,” when had you ever slept in your room the last two years? “are you mad at me?”

he sighed and turned around, still alert for any guards, or even worse, erwin and hange showing up.

“you’re drunk.” was all he said before walking again, signaling for you to follow. he was silent the rest of the way, silent as he stepped out of his clothes, silent as he grabbed a towel.

“can we take a bath together?” you asked hopefully. deep down you had a feeling he would turn you down. levi was always sour after failed expeditions.

“i want to go to sleep tonight, you take too damn long in the bath.” he was right, but the way he said it made it sound like he was accusing you of being a serial killer.

“okay. you go then, i showered before.” you smiled softly and started taking your clothes off to lay on the clean linen sheets.

levi thought about tonight over and over as he sat in the hot water. he didn’t mean to snap at you, or be so mean. he was pushing you away and into erwin’s arms.

erwin could give you the world. levi could not.

and you deserved the damn world.

he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you taking up the entirety of the bed, stark naked, like you always did.

he loved everything about your body. every curve, every dip, every beauty mark. he loved the healed pink scars on your legs and back, he loved kissing them and caressing them every time you cried that they were ghastly.

he hated what he was about to do.

“don’t you dare.” your voice was quavering. you didn’t dare look away from the ceiling.

“dare what?” levi put his boxers on and tried pushing you to the wall so he could lie down. why are you crying?

“do what you’re about to do, levi.” you moved so he could sit next to you and you both rested your backs on the cold wall.

“if you know what i’m about to do, you also know why.”

“oh, eyebrows is flirting with my girlfriend. time to ruin a perfectly fine two-year relationship.” you were mocking him. he was almost mad at you, but you were trying so hard not to cry.

“that’s not it.” he muttered. god, he hated talking about these things. “i can’t…”

i can’t give you enough.

“can’t what, levi? can’t love me anymore?”

“i can’t be what you need.” he sighed and turned away. why the fuck were his eyes burning and watering now?

“what are you talking about?”

“do you want kids, y/n?”

you let out a surprised laugh.

“levi-”

“do you?”

“well, yeah. not for like, ten years, but sure.”

“there you have it.”

“what, are you impotent or something?” you tried making light of the situation, because truly, you had no idea how to approach this. so you resorted to humour, hoping levi would snap out of it too.

“no, i’m just not cut out for that family crap.” he was standing up and walking around the room now, and he was making you dizzy. “erwin is, though. erwin wants a family and three children, did you know?”

you did know. you still shook your head no.

“and he has money to raise them. hell, he has a house in the countryside, and servants.”

“well, good for him. i hope he finds a wife soon.”

“are you fucking stupid, y/n?” you hated when he talked like that. “you’re 22 years old, god damn it!”

“so?”

“other women your age are already married and have a second kid on the way. not wasting their days away fighting titans, risking their lives!”

“i didn’t join the scouts to find a husband, levi!” you were crying. god, he hated it so much. what was he even doing. levi regretted ever opening his mouth.

“don’t you understand, erwin is your way out! you’re wasting your time with me. your life.”

“levi…” now you finally understood. it wasn’t that he was jealous of erwin flirting with you. well, that too, but he was jealous of the life erwin was living. “levi, i love you.”

“y/n, i really don’t know what you’re doing with me.” he was sitting down on the edge of the bed, his back to you. you shifted on the bed, until your legs were around his and your cheek resting on his back.

“i know you don’t get it, but you’re giving me exactly what i need.”

“and what is that?”

your hand fell on top of his, and you intertwined your fingers before he could take it away.

“you give me life, levi. and that’s more than i could ask for. i know you’re scared that you’ll die, or i will, but that’s our purpose. i joined the scouts knowing the risks.”

“i just want you to live properly. peacefully.”

“so be my peace.” you whispered in his ear and got up, sitting down again on his lap. “and don’t ever think you’re not good enough for me.”

“i know i’m not, y/n.”

“i don’t care, then. i love you, i don’t want to lose this, ever. i don’t care that i’m too young, or at child-bearing age or whatever other stupid crap you’ll come up with.” he smiled softly at you, letting his forehead fall against yours.

“promise you won’t die, then?” you giggled and kissed the tip of his nose before replying.

“i promise.”

“i love you.”

“good. don’t ever do that shit again, levi.”

“don’t swear.” he muttered and guided you to lie down, still on top of him. you could feel your heartbeats turn to one as you lay in silence. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“that’s okay. just know i wouldn’t trade you for anything. for anyone.”

“really?” his arms tightened around you. a form of saying, me neither. you’re my everything.

“yeah, i like my men to have thin eyebrows.”

[nobrashfestivity]

24 Hour Red Sauce

Since I am making this right now as I type, I thought I would share one of my sauce recipes. The long cooking time may seem daunting but that's also what makes it difficult to mess up. There are probably typos and I never before have written this down but here it is.

24 hour red sauce

People ask me sometimes “How did you make this sauce?” and I usually say something like, “Well, I cook it a really long time.” But now I will share, roughly, how I do make that sauce.

In spite of my part-Italian family, This is my recipe not a family one. My mother and Italian grandmother showed me how to make sauce but frankly, theirs was not that great. Okay, serviceable, not amazing. Perhaps, like many people I learned to cook at an early age because I didn’t like other people’s food. I went to one of those terrible schools where they would make you eat what they gave you. I’m stubborn and refused their overtures, and as I went forth in life I said no to many things. and thus never developed a taste for them. I’m basically the opposite of Anthony Bourdain.

Because I am a vegetarian, I would bring Lasagna or the like to holiday meals for friends and family and over time I endeavored to make a sauce that would stand up in lasagna, stuffed shells or other sauce killers. I make other sauces but this is the favorite of my friends because, I think, the long cooking time makes for a complex flavor.

I’m not the New York times, so this is a little rough in terms of measurements but the beauty of red sauce is that you taste as you go.

-7 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (I use Tuscan olive oil such as Vetrice for critical stuff but it can be waste of money in long cooking sauce. Any good olive oil with a little bite will work)

-2 28 oz cans of Bianco DiNapoli crushed tomatoes. (you can also use San merican, Mutti or what have you, but I like these best)

- 14 ounce Bianco DiNapoli whole tomatoes (opinions differ on crushed vs whole, I use a mix)

-25-35 cloves fresh garlic, finely chopped

-½ to 3/4 oz fresh basil leaves, chopped (this depends on how many stems you get and how pungent the basil is)

-Vegetable broth (this will add salt, if you want less salt use low sodium broth. If you’re not a vegetarian, you can use beef or chicken broth too).

-Full bodied red wine, like Cabernet, Merlot or Rojas. Don’t break the bank but don’t use something disgusting, you’re eating this.

-1 dried bay leaf (yes you have to)

-¾ teaspoon crushed red pepper (I use a whole teaspoon actually)

-½ teaspoon coarse ground black pepper

-1 medium to large sweet onion

Get a big sauce pan because red sauce will splatter as cook it and it's easier if that doesn’t end up on your stove.

Chop the whole tomatoes (I do this by hand but you can use a food processor) set aside in a bowl.

Under low heat, put the olive oil in and add the garlic and the red pepper, saute a little until the garlic becomes a little glassy.

Add the crushed and chopped whole tomatoes, increase the heat to medium. Set aside the cans.

Peel your onion (you can use two if they are small) and chop it in half. Now look where the sauce comes up to in your cooking pot. Make a little mark (obviously on the outside) of your pot or just wing it.

Fill one empty can half way (14 oz) with vegetable broth and slosh it around to get the remaining tomatoes out of it. Add the black pepper and bay leaf and pour into the sauce.

Fill the other empty can half way with red wine (also 14 oz), a Cabernet is good here, slosh it around and add to the sauce. Now you have wasted nothing except your life cooking this sauce.

Add the two halves of your onion to the sauce. Stir in about half the chopped basil.

Cover the sauce with a lid with a hole in it or half cover it allowing some steam out and turn the stove way down below a simmer. You should even being seeing regular bubbles I the sauce at first and they shouldn’t be appearing rapidly ever.

Every hour tell Michael to stir the sauce (or do it yourself)

Pour a glass of wine and drink it.

Cook it half covered for 4-6 hours on as low heat as possible. You should see occasional bubbles. If the cooked sauce falls below the line you made on your cooking pot, you’re cooking it too fast, but no matter, if that happens, add a cup of 1/3 wine, 1/3 water and 1/3 broth and stir it in. Taste the sauce, it should be pretty good.

Go to bed and out the sauce in the ice box (My grandmother said Ice Box, refrigerator is what it means).

When you get back up in the afternoon (if you get up early, who even are you) uncover the sauce and put it back on low heat simmering or below. Add another two cups of the wine-broth-water mixture and cook for another 5-8 hours. Remember to stir.

When the sauce tastes amazing and you can’t stop tasting it, remove the onions and bay leaf and throw them away. Turn the stove off. Add the rest of your fresh basil and stir it in. You don’t have to use all the basil but basil is not a bad thing. Let the sauce cool for at least an hour. Serve or store. Drink the remaining wine.

It’s actually difficult to ruin this sauce if you follow these guiding principles-

1- You want roughly the same amount of sauce you started with before you added the liquids (wine, water and broth). So you want to see about 50-65 oz of finished sauce depending on how thick you like it.

2- Cooking the onions provides the sweetness to take the acidity out of the sauce, if it’s not sweet enough to can add another onion but it should all even out with more cooking. More sugar will be released from the onions over time. The sauce should be spicy and somewhat strong and acidic but also smooth and flavorful. Add more of your liquids if the sauce is too thick, cook more if it’s too thin. Don’t use sugar.

3- The red wine is a big flavor in this, the alcohol will cook off but flavor is part of the dynamic. Sicilians will tell you to use paste, but that’s a different sauce.

4- I cook this sauce for as long as 24 hours but you don’t have to to make it good. It depends a lot on how high your heat is, how much liquid you use etc. but I would recommend no less than 7 hours of cooking. Otherwise the magic doesn’t happen.

5- Make this often, tweak to your taste, you will return to it each time affirming its power to sustain you in a harsh and unkind world.

[rosewaterandivy]

girl crush

Summary: there’s more than two beds, but of course you sleep in his.

W.C.: 2.5k

Warnings: y’all know me - it’ll be the usual! Smut, idolatry, devotion, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), pussy drunk Steve— I don’t make the rules 😤‼️

a/n: aka your first time with Steve, who may or may not be your boyfriend?

🎶 I’ve got a girl crush, I don’t get no sleep, I don’t get no peace, thinkin’ bout her 🎶

“Wish I could babe,” his voice sounds distant over the phone, wind whipping every other word through the mic, “But we just started production out here, we won’t wrap for a while yet.” You’d caught him during a break in filming, miraculously.

Several dates in LA after an introduction from Eddie, and here you are trying (and failing) to plan another. He’s back in California after a press tour and you were fresh off of recording your latest album.

“Well,” you drawl out, “I could come to you?” The question is rushed, breathless, you screw your eyes close in fear of fucking it all up.

A pause.

“You sure?”

“S’easier than dealing with your schedule, Harrington,” you say lightly, “Palm Springs is doable enough.”

He’s working on some indie picture out in the desert, you were murky on the details. You hear shuffling from his end and ‘psst’s trying to get someone’s attention.

“Rob… Rob! Can you– yeah, the address?”

A moment later your phone dings with a notification.

“So,” you say, throwing clothes haphazardly into a bag, “What’ve you got planned for us?”

Three or so hours later finds you in the desert and absolutely ecstatic about it. Dressed down in cut-offs and an old merch tank–or, as dressed down as you could get–you breathe in deep, thankful to be out of LA. Little to no paps and tabloids to be worried about–or worse, Deuxmoi acolytes–so you could finally relax.

Steve met you out front with the fattest joint you’d seen in years, he nearly dropped it when you all but tackled him to the ground. You were so happy to be with him again.

“Little soon to be proposing, no?”

“Think I’d do better than some hydro from Arglye,” he grouses, but you take it from him anyway with a deep inhale, “Says ‘hi’ by the way.”

“Tell him I accept and we’re registered at Tiffany’s,” you say finally, exhaling slowly.

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, Material Girl,” he helps to hoist you back up, “Tour time.”

After the grand tour, which was impressive–“Holy shit, do you have Robin on retainer? ‘Cause if not...”--Steve entertained you in the kitchen, making what he called the ‘secret sauce.’

“Oh, that?” you scoff, pouring some wine, “Had that on date number two, if you’ll recall.” You take a sip and continue with a waggle of your brows, “My compliments to the chef, as ever.”

Steve blushes at that, recalling how pretty you had looked with your glossed lips around his cock, all warm and soft under the dim light from the setting sun. A groan rumbles from his chest as he braces himself against the countertop, knuckles turning white.

“You’re a menace,” he said, voice low and gravelly, before he turned his attention back to the pots and pans on the stove.

You shrug and drink some wine, savoring the crisp tart taste against your tongue. Steve flits from one spot to the next while he cooks, stirring the sauce one moment and blanching veggies the next; all the while, remaining loose enough to pour a second glass of wine for you and another for himself.

Infuriatingly attractive that.

The sun had gone down in the desert while Steve finished with the pasta. You’d assigned yourself the task of setting the table and doing the dishes after dinner. Plates and cutlery arranged, you helped yourself to some salad while Steve served the pasta.

You mouth had already been watering at the mere scent of whatever was bubbling away on the stove, and all it took was one bite to have you audibly moaning at the dinner table. His eyes met yours, mischievous and curious, as he sipped his wine.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” you say with closed eyes, savoring the taste.

Steve laughs quietly across the table.

Dinner goes on, you try to reign in your vocal appreciation of the meal. He fills you in on some details of the shoot, set gossip, and the like. You offer up the scant information you have about the upcoming tour and album release. Clearing the table is easy enough between the two of you, knocking hips every so often as you washed and he dried the dishes.

You ended up in his bedroom, collecting the duffle you’d packed from the guest room down the hall. It was a kind thought, that you would opt for a separate room and your own space; he was hesitant like that, never wanting to assume.

Electing to change in the ensuite bathroom, you step out of the denim cutoffs and fold them neatly on the counter. Shoes had been kicked off at the front door earlier in the evening, leaving you now in an ancient Corroded Coffin shirt that had seen better days. He’s sat on the bed, looking all soft and sweet–tousled hair and wire rimmed glasses framing his face nicely, skin flushed from the wine.

He bit his lip when he saw you come out, hair a mess and legs, legs, legs, but a vision nevertheless. He can’t help himself as you step between his splayed knees at the edge of the bed, his hands coming to rest against he curve of your hips.

“Hey honey,” he murmurs as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hey Steve,” you greet in return, lips pulled tight in an embarrassed smile.

Gently, he tugs you closer to him, the fabric of the shirt rucking up against your skin. His finger skirts against the back of your thigh, the skin shivering involuntarily. “Missed you,” he says, voice raspy and low.

His soft gaze lingers on you, warm hazel eyes looking up through long lashes. “Missed you too,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?” he asks, fingers grasping at the flare of your hips before he leans back on the bed, “C’mere then.”

As you clamber onto the bed, he lays back against the cool cotton of the duvet pulling you down with him. Substantively seated in his lap, you rest your head against his chest and let out a sigh.

“Comfy?” he says, a hand trailing lazily up and down your back. You nod, fingering the fabric of the shirt between your fingers. Softened by time and wear, paint and lettering disintegrating each time you wore it. It smells comforting like you–cardamom and sandalwood with a hint of something boozy–smells like home.

“I’ll keep you close then.”

His other arms falls against your hips while he continues to trace shapes against your back. You feel his lips leave at the crown of your head before his head falls back against the mattress. It’s quiet and he can tell from the rhythm of your breathing that you’re a few minutes from falling asleep.

The nation’s favorite spitfire in his bed, face nuzzled into his chest, bit by bit chiseling your way into his heart.

Steve lets his teeth worry his bottom lip, willing his nerves not to get the best of him. “Y’know, I really like you.”

“Mmm,” your drowsy moan comforting, the lazy smile tugging at your lips setting off the butterflies in his stomach. “I really like you too.”

Fuck, he hadn’t been this nervous in a while. And yeah, you’d been seeing each other for a minute but not long enough to have the ‘what are we’ conversation.

His hand tangles in your hair, loose and windswept from the drive, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp. A muffled moan pours from your lips and vibrates his chest.

“Sorry, sorry” you slur sleepily, “M’not normally such a lightweight.”

Steve, for his part, doesn’t think anything of it. You’d had, what, one glass of wine at dinner— maybe two? But you could be tired from the drive.

Maybe he’s misreading this thing entirely. A brief flicker of panic licks up his spine; maybe it’s too soon, maybe you just want to sleep—

“Can hear you thinkin’ up there,” you mumble and pull him from his downward spiral. A brief movement as you settle your chin to his chest and glance up. Your eyes are half-lidded and sultry, lips pulled in an enticing fashion.

He grunts when you shift your weight until you’re practically sitting on his chest to keep him breathless. He’s smiling up toward the ceiling, one side of his lips curled upward, jaw slack, easy and yielding because Steve offers himself to everything like this: headfirst and wide-open.

It’s be infuriating if he wasn’t crashing headlong toward you. It’d be irritating if he wasn’t so damn earnest about it.

After a while of feeling out each other's atmosphere, eyes catching every so often before flitting away to focus on something else, Steve arches up to request a kiss, all warmth and need.

You lean down to touch your lips to his gently, brushing your nose with his along the way— a wholly delicate gesture he never would’ve expected from you, but has grown to adore.

“We can go slow,” you breathe against his lips. “Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Steve’s stomach swoops. He reaches up to cradle the back of your neck, drawing your forehead to his. “That so?”

You're smiling— so big and beautiful it hurts. And his heart is so loud he thinks you must hear it.

The kiss was clumsy, you chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your lips to his burned down his throat, like whiskey and joy— warm and smooth and cataclysmic as his hand cupped your face. You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush in excitement because you’re not letting go, so he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning all the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it lights him up. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut. Even now, he’s crushed with longing.

You press the heat of your core into his groin, grinding your hips into his.  

When your tongue touches him again, he thinks he might go blind. His eyes flutter open as much as they can, to savor the moment of your face so close to his. Your eyes, shut. Your skin, flushed. Your hair, a silky, folded curtain against his chest.

You are straddling Steve’s thigh now, sitting on your knees and moving against his thick limb in slow orbits. The underwear sitting against your hips is still there but does nothing to keep the slickness between your legs at bay. His thigh is moist from it, and it catches a shine in the fading light.

“Need you, baby,” you plead. “Any way you want.”

You glow like a full moon in the night, divining his animal desires with phosphorescent eyes.

Too eager now with permission. Too eager now with the fiercest kind of lust—of love—he lets it go. All for you, and you all for him. He nips at your collar, drowning deeper and deeper. Fingers meandering to hook into the gauzy and damp fabric hiding you from him and pulls. Wants you bare and shuddering beneath him. Hip bones against hip bones, the noises you make—ragged and hoarse—sending tremors down his back.

Steve grips your waist and moves you from his leg. A whimper escapes before it turns into a gasp as he turns you around, back meeting the cool of the sheets. “You call it, sweetheart.” Comes his husky voice in your ear. You know he means it completely.

A moan slips forth when he dives into the back of your shirt and tears it off, does the same with his. He wants to hear that noise again. The two of you are entwined like real lovers, pulling apart only to breathe and whisper to each other.

He falls onto his forearms, touching foreheads together, noses together, lips hovering until you meet him in a sloppy half-kiss, tongue slipping over his, spit and sweat shimmering across your mouth.

Steve doesn’t bother taking his boxer-briefs off completely, crumpling them down just below his cock is enough for him to slide in like he was created for you. He tells you as much, as you whimper and cry out beneath him.

“Look at me,” He prompts, tilting your face so you see where he’s connected to you. He’s searing hot as he thrusts upwards. “You were made for this.” He’s delirious with it, the heavy thrum that flows through the union of your bodies, “You were made for me.”

Like a prayer, he repeats your name.

Inside of that deafening miasma, Steve is still awake and a part of him knows that this is what he’d been longing for. His cock is throbbing inside of you and every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, your cunt wipes any shred of doubt from his mind.

Your head tips backwards and he catches the base of your skull in one giant hand. “So good,” you praise, “You’re so good, Steve.”

God, he’s so hard. Cramming himself inside your body, torso to torso, as close as he can get because he needs it—he needs it so bad.

He’s blind with it, drunk off it, beginning to rut like he’s in heat, surprised at the confessions he burns into your neck g’na marry you, fuck— that have you gasping and clenching in equal measure. Catalogues and litanies of honey, baby, fuckfuckfuck, god—growling devotions sinking into your throat, your shoulder, your chest. Sucking inscriptions in the common tongue of love as they slip past his lips.

You take all of him again and again, matching his pace, eyes squeezed shut, opening briefly but dazed. Panting and pleading his name, sudden waves of orgasm making you shake and shiver. Then he starts again— easier, kinder, letting the beast work its way back through his skin. Tongue sweeping lines. Canines pulling flesh.

You sigh and smile. A sacred dream of flesh and blood wrapped around him. “Wanna see you, baby,” you say, “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

So he does, blinking through the darkness and finds you like a beacon, as you always are, as you always will be. His hair falls to one side, lighter from the summer sun, suspended and rocking along.

“’S that good? Like this?”

“Yeah. Yes,” he babbles, “Wanna give you everything.”

“Come with me, Steve—come on, baby.”

And it’s all so fast. Your words. His words. Your hands. His hands. Hips moving in heavy thrusts and hair falling over his face and endless moans of god, fuck, 'm gonna come at the last minute before his eyes roll back behind his lids.

Steve buries his face into your neck, groaning. “Mine,” he whispers finally coming back to himself. Raspy and slow and again when you gasp. Your nails dig into his back reflexively, thighs squeezing him tight.

He’s smiling like an idiot because he doesn’t know what else to do about it. His heart is fluttering and filling up. He looked at you for too long, thought about you too hard even though you’re right here and his, and maybe that’s what launched itself into his dizzy head.

A hard kiss that makes you whimper. Mine. Another to the line of your open jaw. Mine. Your throat. Your collar. Your chest. Mine. Mine. Mine.

You smile into his temple, rubbing your cheek on him, too. 

“Keeping me all to yourself?”

He nods eagerly, heart full, then overflowing. “Keeping you forever.”

[heartshapedcigaretteburns]

Ex!Gaz who's still in love with you:/

(Look at my handsome boy💞)

Ex bf! Gaz who never wanted the relationship to end in the first place but you just couldn't handle how little time you got to spend together. He fought tooth and nail to try and make you stay but it wasn't enough. When that doesn't work he tries convincing you to stay friends but you know deep down that wouldn't work out so you reject the idea. 

Ex bf! Gaz who low-key stalks you. I mean is it really stalking if he means well? He just wants to ensure you're doing okay so he keeps tabs on you. Initially, he maintains his distance by checking your social media, but gradually, he starts appearing in the places you frequent, coincidentally running into you at the grocery store or gym more often than usual.

Ex bf! Gaz who worms his way back into your life subtly. Getting more involved with your mutual friends so that they invite him along to outings he knows you'll be at. In every group setting he manages to stay at your side despite how hard you try to get rid of him.

Ex bf! Gaz who is ecstatic when you warm up to the idea of remaining friends but he doesn't stop there. He's desperate to make you see that you're meant to be with him. He firmly believes that he was destined to marry you and grow old with you and he just doesn't understand why you can't accept that. In his eyes, you are his fate, his ultimate destiny.

Ex bf! Gaz who can't cope when you start going on dates with other people. Nobody else is deserving of you. You're meant to be going on dates with him, holding his hand, smiling at him. In his mind, no one else can treat you the way he can.  Sooooo naturally he resorts to sabotaging your love life. He'll find a way to make every new potential partner suddenly change their mind about dating you. And when you get stood up for the third time, he's there to hold you and comfort you, offering solace. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were convinced that this new guy actually felt something for you. Things were going great - you had been on a few dates and really hit it off. It wasn't anything like what you and Kyle had but it was a step in the right direction. 

However, everything changed when he stood you up at the restaurant, leaving you waiting for 40 minutes without responding to your numerous texts. Finally, he replies, but the message crushes you.

"Sorry, I'm not coming tonight. I don't think this is going to work out."

Your entire body crumbles inward and you shrink into the booth as you process those words. You desperately tried to text back and ask what went wrong, but he had already blocked you. What a dick.

You apologize to the staff for the inconvenience, collect your belongings, and start walking home. As you left the fancy establishment, hot tears streamed down your face. It didn't take long for a familiar car to slow down beside you. 

“Why are you walking alone so late, love? C’mon, hop in.” Kyle spoke with a caring tone that both comforted and hurt you.

As much as you wish he wasn't so comforting, you find solace in his presence. You felt disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, and above all, unlovable. It's only natural you fall into his reassuring company.

You allow yourself to get into his car and let him drive you home while you sob pathetically and pour your little heart out. You're not even certain he can understand you with the intense blubbering you're doing but he can, he always can. He listens to you vent to him, gently rubbing your exposed thigh until you get it all out.

“God am I just not desirable enough? It seems like nobody wants me." You cried softly, your voice hoarse. 

He pulls into the driveway of what used to be your shared house.

“You're incredibly desirable, lovie. Anyone would be lucky to have you, he's just an idiot. He doesn't deserve you anyways." Kyle reassures you as he guides you inside to show you just how desirable you truly are. 

Okay this idea I've been toying with in my brain a lot lately and I think I executed it pretty well but let me know what you guys think. Hope you enjoyed! Ignore spelling and grammar errors though 😽😽😽

[bonniepop]

title: of rumors & wrong assumptions parts: 1 / 2 / 3 character: iwaizumi hajime words: 1,200+ warnings: violence towards oikawa's person. experiments in chem lab. notes: i think this is one of my funnier fics so of course i had to bring this back! (also i am not compensating for forgetting about this website at all!)

—

life would’ve been so much easier if you’d ended up having a crush on literally anyone else instead, but noooo. you had to go and have a crush on oikawa's best friend.

oikawa's probably gay best friend.

“i’m telling you—iwa-chan is not gay,” oikawa insists with a hushed voice, leaning over the beaker he poured water into earlier, his face so near the bunsen burner it was giving you anxiety.

“what the fuck, oikawa,” you nearly cry, shoving his face away from the open flame. “get your face out of there!”

your palm presses over the goggles on his face and he yelps. “ow!” he pouts and pulls away his standard chem lab goggles, running his hand through the red marks pressed against his skin. “that hurt!”

“would you rather i let your face burn off in case it exploded?” you shoot back, grabbing a pen and writing down your observations. “also can you get back to work? this is a partner lab report.”

“that’s just water,” he snaps.

"there's an open flame!" you practically shriek, but he ignores you.

"—and i’ll read your notes later.” he says the last part dismissively, and you had to stop yourself from launching your pen at his face—like a gladiator spear through one of his eyeballs.

life would've been so much easier if you'd fallen for literally anyone else, because their best friend probably wouldn't be an insufferably annoying volleyball captain that you'd ended up being partnered with.

at first, it made you giddy. this was your chance—be friend the volleyball captain, make friends with iwaizumi, flirt, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

okay, you're thinking too far ahead. but it was a great setup. until oikawa'd said, "i need to talk to you about something," with that something being... righting... his best friend's reputation.

is there any possible way to get run over by a truck? while inside a laboratory on the third floor of a building?

“anyway, he’s not gay,” oikawa brings up again, louder than the last time, and you sink down against the table and groan.

you can feel your table mates look back at you suspiciously, and you pray to every deity out there. someone, anyone. just open up the earth and swallow me whole.

“oikawa,” you bark, peering over your shared equipment with sharp eyes. “can we not talk about this here?”

he shakes his head quite vigorously. “no! we need to discuss this. because you are wrong, and i am here to tell you that you are wrong.”

your face wrinkles into a scowl. “i really don’t wanna talk about this,” you grumble, looking away.

you don’t even know how he knows. as far as you remember, it was a speculation you’d mentioned to your group of friends in jest, and two days later, oikawa—who had sweet talked your previous lab partner into switching out, apparently; if you think about it, this was all her fault for agreeing—started pestering you about it.

“add the iodine and stir,” your teacher says, and dutifully, you grab the smaller beaker and add the brown liquid, noting the color change when you stir.

“seriously!” oikawa insists, “he’s not. believe me.”

“wh—” you point your pen at him and glare. “you know what, i will remove your name from this lab report if you don’t work on anything in the next—”

you watch him grab his pen and, without looking, scribble quickly on his notebook. “there, done.”

your jaw unhinges, unreasonable, murderous irritation flooding your entire body. “you didn’t even—”

“now get your second beaker,” your teacher instructs, and you use it as a distraction to stop yourself from lunging at your lab partner. “add the remaining water, hydrogen peroxide and fabric starch.”

you take a deep breath and reach for the materials—which were near oikawa’s elbow. when your reach comes up short, you glare at him. “maybe you’d like to help me?”

“oh, sure,” oikawa goes, plucking the materials and placing them on the center of the table. “there you go.” 

you count to ten in an attempt to prevent yourself from hurling the second beaker at his head, opting to focus on the experiment instead.

“anyway, i—”

you nearly slam your hands on the table. “look, oikawa,” you tell him, leaning closer. “i don’t know how you found out about that, but it was meant as a joke. i didn’t mean it, and whoever told you that? give me their name. give me their name, so i can find them, break their phone, and burn their house down. end of story.”

he blinks. “so you don’t think he’s gay?”

you lean back. “if he is, it’s none of my business.”

“but he’s not,” oikawa whines. “what made you think that in the first place?”

you give him a bewildered stare. “what? why wouldn’t i think it? he’s obviously in love with you.”

his face morphs into one of complete and utter shock, and then he booms into laughter, which makes the class turn towards your seat at the very back. he sheepishly quiets down at the call of his name, your teacher evidently not as amused as he is at his new discovery.

“he’s not in love with me,” oikawa denies at a much softer, but not any less irritating, volume.

you ignore him. “he’s so scary but he turns sweet around you—”

“sweet? sweet?” he’s wide-eyed and appalled. he aggressively points to the back of his head. “is throwing volleyballs at my head sweet?"

you defend, “i don’t know what you’re into—"

"do you know how many almost-concussions i've had because of him?! i'm basically a fall risk at this point!”

“now, transfer everything in beaker 1 to beaker 2,” your teacher calls, interrupting your argument. “note the time.”

he stares and shakes his head. “anyway. well, that’s not the case. at all,” he declares, leaning forward to continue the rest of the experiment. “we’re just friends. you note the time.”

“sure,” you say, signaling for him to go once you track the seconds on your watch. you scribble in your notes when the liquid changes color. 

the bell rings, and students are shuffling to dump their liquids in the giant erlenmeyer flask at the back of the room.

your former lab partner smiles at you as you both dump your waste liquid. “seems like you and oikawa had a lot of fun,” she chirps.

not at all. “he’s okay,” you say before you part ways. when you get back to your desk, she notes that oikawa is waiting for you and that you walk out of lab together, bickering.

while the rest of the day went ahead as normal, for the next day at school, you were not granted that same luxury.

“hey,” one of your friends asks over lunch, “are you and oikawa dating?”

your fist clenches in surprise, and the juice sent ricocheting through the straw and into your throat makes you choke. “what?” you ask, coughing, and wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “where'd you get that?”

the rest of your friends meet gazes. “we heard you were really close in lab yesterday,” one of the girls says.

“yeah, like an old married couple,” another says.

your brain is going into overdrive. what? said who? “we are absolutely n—”

someone calls from outside your classroom. someone with very familiar and annoying voice, someone who you've, quite frankly, had enough of.

you look up to see oikawa, waving merrily at you. behind him, iwaizumi’s stony face is dark and threatening.

the girls around you giggle, and you flush, hunching over at your desk in an attempt to hide.

this cannot be happening, you think despairingly. not only was your crush probably gay, he also thinks you’re dating his best friend.

the best friend he was probably in love with.

“fuck me,” you groan into the wood grain of your desk. "fuck me so very much."

[cheezbites]

Dating Ghost

✎: I wrote this very late at night (4:38 am) or very early in the morning - when I was motivated by the sheer amount of notifications from my inbox, ty all sm for the love and support💕!!

♡Summary: Head cannons of dating Ghost <3

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Bf!Ghost has always been a black tea person, either he drank it alongside his breakfast or to calm him down on a rainy day. You were a coffee girl, you would go all out making them - milk, hazelnut syrups, whipped creams… You name it. And from this, another one of your childish inside jokes was born. You were conveniently in the kitchen at the same time as him, making your morning beverages.

“Hm,” you silently thought to yourself, contemplating if your idea was rational enough to act through with.

“Hmmmmm,” he jokingly imitated you, wondering what was on your mind.

You got a separate cup and mixed some of his tea with your coffee. You took the first sip and scorned your face at the unfamiliar yet vaguely distinguishable taste.

Soon he followed, not seeming to be too fond of it at first yet still drinking every last bit.

“Not too bad,” he silently muttered.

And every time you guys were in the kitchen making your daily beverages, the ‘CoTea’ (Coffee and Tea) inside joke was repeatedly brought up.

Bf!Ghost heard a sudden shriek from your bedroom, causing his heart to sink. His thoughts raced faster than the speed of how fast he was approaching your room, desperate to know what it was. What if it was an invader? He wouldn’t be able to live knowing that he wasn’t fast enough to save you from a serious threat, he’d hate himself and feel guilty every single day.

His breathing pattern returned to normal as he sighed in relief when he realised that it was just a spider on your bedroom wall.

“Shit,”

“It’s going to kill me!” You sputtered inattentively as you backed away as far as possible from the ‘murderous pest.’

He stacked a mount of tissues in his hand and effortlessly scooped it up, crushed it into remains of spider limbs and a brown fluid before tossing it in the bin. Shooting you a look that you swore said: ‘Seriously? All that commotion over that?”

“My saviour,” you quipped as you ran up to him and braced him in a tight hug.

Bf!Ghost was used to receiving the “Your eyelashes are so long!” ‘compliment’ from people, mainly from you. It always confused him as to why you pointed it out - maybe it was just a ‘girl thing’ he didn’t understand.

Bf!Ghost was sleep-deprived, sick and unwillingly glued to his bed after days of working, so you took care of him. (At night, when he was complaining about being too cold, you snuggled up next to him and fell asleep in his arms. Maybe he was faking it as an excuse to cuddle you, maybe…) You knew he had an energy drink addiction and some bad eating habits. Since quality meals require time, you poured that time into cooking for him. His gratitude toward you was beyond words, appreciating the care and effort you put into taking care of him. Your cooking not only filled his stomach but also warmed his heart, making every bite a taste of your love.

Bf!Ghost worked out often; so did you. You enjoyed each other's company at the gym, immersing yourselves in the shared playlist and the post-workout rush. His concern for you couldn't be contained. During some weekly sessions, he taught you self-defence techniques, a thoughtful gesture for times he couldn't be by your side.

Bf!Ghost loved making you say ‘please’, even after the smallest of favours. You tried to open your water bottle, but the lid seemed super glued on, you tried repeatedly but your attempts were in vain. You asked him to help you, forgetting one thing:

“Want me to feed you the water as well?” He sarcastically quipped with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh come on babe,”

“And what’s the magic word?” He asked expectedly.

“Please,” you stretched out your ‘please’ jokingly for the sole purpose of teasing him.

He seamlessly removed the lid which astonished you before handing you your water bottle. After all that effort and failed attempts, he made it look so easy.

Bf!Ghost Loathed being away from you; and you felt the exact same way. When he needed to leave or when you were gone, he would try to do things that reminded him of you. When you were teaching him how to cook your signature meals in the kitchen, he was picking up rapidly, improving and learning - soon enough he surpassed you in culinary skills. He remade your recipes to remind himself of you when you weren’t there, and you ‘borrowed’ a few of his hoodies, which were pleasantly engulfed in his scent.

Bf!Ghost Noticed you fell asleep during the horror movie you watched, the last thing he wanted to do was startle you or wake you up. He turned off the TV before heading to your room and placing your favourite blanket over you. He kissed your cheek gently and muttered a silent, “I love you.” Before calling it a night.

Bf!Ghost left wholesome notes for you to discover around the house; the messages were cheesy in the cutest way possible. Either him making you food after a long day of work and leaving it for you in the fridge with a brief note next to it, or a corny compliment stuck on the bathroom mirror for only you to see. It would be something along the lines of:

“Start your day off with a smile love, like the one you never fail to give me♡” (And I feel like this dude would have very messy handwriting, but when writing these notes he tried his best).

Bf!Ghost made most of the decisions in the relationship, you were very indecisive. This is probably the only thing he mildly dislikes about you - you were going through the trials and tribulations of a lifetime over picking between KFC and McDonald’s, you were persistent about what to order too, so he recommended stuff to you or sometimes ordered for you.

(I just know if you both got drinks, he specifically requested only one straw so you guys could share it).

Bf!Ghost was the “‘Scuse me, she asked for no pickles,” boyfriend, who would secure you a refund and a newly made burger, (mainly due to how intimating he gets at times).

You thoroughly enjoyed him looking out for you, though, knowing that he cared that much about you made your heart flutter only from thinking about it.

PART TWO IS OUT!!! <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥—————————

König Version

Price Version

Gaz Version

Soap Version

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥—————————

Masterlist

[star-centric]

Ooo somewhat angsty request: when would be the first time MC saw each of the obey me brothers cry, and what's the best way to support them in that situation?

PAIRINGS: Obey Me Brothers x Gender Neutral!Reader

NOTE: *rubs hands together menacingly* I’ve been waiting for this one 😈 I definitely see myself exploring this idea again in the future (or even redoing this, idk yet tho 👀)

CW: angst (but not soul crushing), all of the guys are very vulnerable in this, gender neutral reader, minor spoilers for the first game (don’t worry, it’s not about *that* scene), no NB spoilers since I’m behind in the game </3

When you see LUCIFER cry for the first time, it was late at night, where he believed that he was the only soul awake in the house- until you poked your head in the study, concern etched on your face.

He had one of his cursed records playing, the gentle music softly filling the air as he poured another glass of Demonus, gloves long forgotten. The simple smile he wore on his face only was a mask of what he was feeling.

He looked so…tired. So defeated.

“I try to give my brothers a good life- a life not only reminiscent of the one they lost from before, but a life even better than that. A life that they deserve.” He began, finger toying with the rim of his glass. “But I failed.”

You remained quiet as Lucifer let out a bitter laugh, “I failed- I let all of them down. I let down my brothers, I let down Lord Diavolo, I let down Michael, I let down my Father- all of them. I‘ve became a disappointment in the Celestial Realm, and I’m continuing to do so even now in the Devildom.”

You’ve never seen Lucifer so vulnerable before- you’ve always seen him act so unbothered, his pride refusing to let him reveal too much. He’s always been the one to lead, the one his family would go to for anything, the one that would sacrifice himself without a moment’s hesitation. He was the glue holding everything together, but everything wears thin with time.

He picked up the glass, swirling it around before setting back down with a harsh thud, sighing.

“I’ve let you all down. And that in and of itself is unforgivable-“

Lucifer flinched when he felt your hand on his cheek, thumb gently wiping under his eye. He was confused for a moment before he felt something wet trail down his other cheek. He wiped at it only to notice his vision getting a bit blurry-

How long has it been since he cried?

A few of his tear drops landed on his documents below, yet as he glanced up at you, you didn’t say a word. You didn’t point out how unguarded he was being, you didn’t interrupt him- you merely listened and wiped away his tears with a gentle smile lining your cheeks.

Lucifer couldn’t stop his tears after that, and he found himself grasping onto you as they continued.

When you see MAMMON cry for the first time, it’s in your room.

He was avoiding everyone today including you, and while it left you worried, you gave him some space. When you got back to your room, you noticed the door ajar- and when you opened it fully, you noticed a figure curled into your bed, a mop of messy white hair poking out from your blankets. You peeked over to see if he was asleep-

You didn’t have time to react as he grabbed and pulled you down to him.

Mammon buried his head into the crook of your neck and tightened his arms around you, hiding his face completely.

You wanted to ask what was wrong- what he was going through, for him to talk to you- but no words needed to be exchanged as he shook in your grasp, feeling your shirt getting damp. You didn’t have it in you to ask anymore.

All you did was comb your fingers through his locks as he quietly sobbed.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there, curled up against one another, but he eventually went still, soft snores passing through his lips.

It didn’t matter what the issue was- whether it was just a bad day or worse- you would always be there for him.

When you see LEVIATHAN cry for the first time, it’s in the privacy of his room.

You were binge-watching a new anime, one that had you both invested. It was about an immortal finding love after centuries- you were surprised Levi wanted to finish watching it after discovering it was a romance, but you were glad nonetheless (even if he couldn’t hide his flushed face).

You were nearing the end of the series when you heard sniffling.

You glanced to see Levi with tears building up in his eyes, threatening to fall.

You tried to look away but he already caught you staring.

The tips of his ears were burning red as he flinched, “Don’t- don’t look at me MC!”

“Levi, you know there’s nothing wrong with crying right?”

“Sti-Still! It’s embarrassing!”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! It’s sad, it’s emotional-“ you explained. “If it makes you feel better, I kinda want to cry too.” Which wasn’t a lie- your eyes were starting to sting a little. You knew how the outcome was going to be for the main characters, but it still felt like a gut punch to see.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Levi, so you gently linked your pinkie with his. You were happy that he didn’t flinch away from you this time.

“Just know that you’re not alone, okay?”

Levi shyly nodded his head, and you felt him slightly squeeze your pinkie. He knew that he wasn’t, but that wasn’t what got him emotional.

What got him emotional was seeing the immortal, holding their elderly lover in his arms as they passed on. The lover aged as time passed, but the immortal stayed the same- except they were alone again like how they were centuries ago.

No matter how many happy moments the characters had in the show together, it was bound to end in tragedy.

And it brought Levi back to reality.

Back to the reality that he would eventually lose you in the same way.

When you see SATAN cry for the first time, it was in his demon form.

You’ve seen him before like this after he lashed out in the past, spiky tail whipping furiously behind him, green eyes showing nothing but fury. You know that he tries to keep his anger under control, but it still got the best of him at times.

But you didn’t see any anger this time.

You only saw anguish.

There Satan was, kneeled on the ground with tears welling up in his eyes with ripped and scattered objects tossed around the room, a result of destructive rage from before.

“I’ll never been seen for myself, will I?”

Satan’s eyes stayed on the ground, never meeting your own. “I’ll only ever be seen as my sin, as an extension of my older brother- never as myself.”

He shoulders trembled as he let out a bitter laugh that filled the room.

“I know I shouldn’t expect anything different. I should be used to it by now, but- why does it still bother me?”

His smile did nothing to hide his pain, crystal tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Why does it still hurt MC?”

You joined him on the floor and pulled him in your arms, holding onto him as he broke down.

When you see ASMODEUS cry for the first time, you thought it was a ploy at first.

You’ve seen Asmo bring tears to his eyes on a whim when he’s trying to get his way or be dramatic, so to see the same thing happen now wasn’t anything new. You were painting each others nails when you asked him if he’s ever been in love before-

“Of course MC! I love all of my fans dearly and they love me-“

“No, not that kind of love. Like true love- has someone ever told you they love you genuinely?”

“Hm, I don’t…”

When you saw the dejected look in his eyes, you became aware that it wasn’t a ploy at all.

You didn’t look up when he went quiet, concentrating on finishing the final coat on his nails. It wasn’t until you saw something wet drip onto his hand that made you glance up, seeing a single tear roll down his cheek with a forced smile.

“…I don’t know.” He choked out.

Asmo always soaked in the admiration from his fans- but that’s all it was, admiration. They loved the Asmo that they saw in the Fall, the Asmo that they saw on Devilgram- they loved the Asmo that they saw, but did they really know him enough to say they truly love him?

Did they love the Asmo you see or Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust?

“People love me and I love my fans, but why does it still feel so empty?” The smile on his face that he was so used to flashing soon fell, more tears steadily rolling down his flushed cheeks.

Despite what his sin is, Asmo did believe in true love. He believed that one day he found find someone to pour his heart and soul into and get the same in return. Even after he fell and lost his beautiful wings, he still held on to his wish of finding that person.

He started to imagine that person was you.

But he was scared that you didn’t picture him that way. That you only saw him as the Avatar of Lust.

For once, Asmo felt insecure, and he could do nothing but soak in the warmth he was afraid of losing as you held him sobbing.

When you saw BEELZEBUB cry for the first time, it catches you off guard.

You only went to grab some water, waking up and walking to the kitchen in your dazed state.

It wasn’t a surprise to see Beel there with a meal- but it was a surprise to see him wiping away tears, food untouched.

Any sleepiness washed away when you rushed to him, already by his side, asking him what’s wrong.

“I had another nightmare.” He sniffled, refusing to make eye contact with his body tense. “About Lilith.”

Your breath hitched- Beel told you once about his nightmares, but never what it was about. You only assumed how horrible it was from the faraway look he had in his eyes. It never crossed your mind that it was about his sister-

“I saw her MC- it’s always the same,” Beel balled up his fists, baring his fangs. “I’m always too late to save her- why couldn’t I save her?!”

He was no longer hiding his frustration or tears, which were freely rolling down his cheeks. All you could do was listen as he tried his best not to break down under the kitchen lights.

“You protected her, Beel.” You softly spoke, reaching to hold his hand. “You all did more than enough to protect her, and I know that she doesn’t blame you.” You lightly squeezed his hand, “She knows that it’s not your fault. None of it was.”

You’re not sure how long you sat there holding Beel, sobbing out broken apologies to his dear sister who would never hear them.

When you see BELPHEGOR cry for the first time, it was in his sleep.

You spent the night in the twins room, bundled up next to him as you were beginning to doze off. Belphie clung on to you, mumbling something incoherent as he slept. But before you could get lost in your dreams, you felt his grip growing tighter around you.

You brushed off the minor discomfort, only turning to then hear something that truly woke you up-

Belphie whimpering.

You blinked away any sleepiness, turning to see his face twisted in pain, fresh tear staining his cheeks. His hands were clenching onto you tight, whimpering soon turning into a chorus of “no” and “please”.

You shook him awake before he could continue, hair stuck to his forehead as his eyes shot open, panting. He scanned the room before landing on you, pulling you closer into him, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. No doubt he had a nightmare.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Belphie took a long pause. “…Everyone hated and blamed me for everything, for all of our problems. You all forced me to leave, and I was casted out of my home- again.”

You did nothing but soothe him as you felt him tremble again, your neck becoming damp as he started to quietly sob. “You know that won’t ever happen Belphie-“

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just- stay with me…please?”

“Of course.”

You felt his tail wrap around your waist as he sobbed out a thank you. You combed your fingers through his locks, lulling him back to sleep- hopefully to better dreams.

[cho-aaacho]

(HC's) Student Council President! Fushiguro Megumi

Masterlist

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Crushes, Secret Admirer, Love Confessions, First Love, Soft Megumi, Megumi needs a hug.

He is very strict. At school, he always follows the rules. He doesn't tolerate anything.

Surprisingly, despite his stern demeanor, his voice is very gentle, earning him respect from everyone.

Sometimes you might struggle to catch his words, and it's almost as if he were whispering or murmuring something.

He's the captain of the baseball team, and he has a fan club.

Actively participating in social events and helping students in need. He has generously helped your club's activity by recruiting new members.

A model student in school, he is also one of the smartest students in the top 10. All the students find him attractive.

Always dressed in a tidy uniform. He ensures a pleasant smell by using a quality softener. Also, you can't see dirt on his shoes!

He also shares a close bond with the young teacher, Gojo Satoru, and is always with him in the library. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you will find them in the bookstore or bakery near the school.

You'll find him on his bike and go home with the vice-captain of the baseball team, Itadori Yuuji.

Or maybe, during times when he's feeling down, he might eat lunch alone while drowning himself in romantic music.

He loves animals, and he leads a club activity dedicated to rescuing stray animals, providing them with nice food and safe shelter. The principal allows him to do that.

You love watching him during his baseball team's matches. Passionately cheering and shouting his name. Even if you're not officially a part of his fan club, your love for him is still floating in the air.

Perhaps he notices your motive, realizing your affection and feeling your love, and there's a chance that he's aware of it. Yet he maintains silence, choosing not to acknowledge your admiration.

Sometimes you'll find him strolling by your classroom, walking like a fragile flower in your hands. So... beautiful. It was almost like an angel—too much love. With Yuuji and Inumaki-senpai following side by side, he looks so friendly.

On other days, you'll see him accompanied by Gojo-sensei, his hands holding a mountain of papers and blabbering, protesting, and showering his dear teacher with a flame of anger.

Meanwhile, you just sit there alone, resting your chin on your palm, lost in daydreams of a happy ending with Fushiguro Megumi.

Despite his contributions to your club activity, your interactions with Megumi always remain the same. Just casual conversation—nothing extraordinary, nothing special.

Yet an undeniable feeling popped into your head, flowing through your mind and pouring into your hands. Your admiration has blossomed into something ethereal. It's so divine and endearing. You couldn't find any good words to describe them.

Perhaps...

...love?

In the evening, when the sun goes down and is replaced by the hues of twilight and crimson, you find Megumi standing behind your locker. With his arms folded across his chest, he leans with effortless poise.

"Oh... you," he utters. A smile rendered his features. It was a smile you'd never seen on his frame. It's not just a smile. You almost saw the star in his eyes, or probably the color of a rainbow. 

You wait for Megumi to finish his sentence. His hesitation lingers, tangled in a thick atmosphere, and he is surrounded by the sounds of the autumn breeze.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "There's something I need to talk about with you. Perhaps it might seem inappropriate or weird. But... I have to say this because Gojo-sensei told me so."

"About what, Fushiguro-kun?"

"You know I've consistently supported your club activities, and it's not like I expected repayment. I've just come to realize why you always hold a top position on my priority list."

He sighed and smiled. "I often believed it was my hobby of helping others that led me to do everything for your club. Yet, I'm just realizing that it's more than that. Your smiles during our conversation bring me joy, and I love when you say 'thank you' to me. Despite it being only a simple conversation, I truly cherish these moments we share."

"I love to see you cheering for me during my baseball match, and I always set my eyes on you from the bench. Despite how stupid I am during games, I try my best to make you proud of me."

"...and," he stopped, then gazed at you gently. "Gojo-sensei thinks I might be in love with you because everything you do always warms the empty side of my heart. So I want to know if you feel the same as me. I love you, and what about you?"

[thephantomtheory]

That Funny Feeling | Levi Ackerman x Reader

summary: on the boat to odiha, you and levi finally get a moment of privacy after being apart for so long as you deal with all the emotions of almost losing him in the explosion | 1.4k words

notes: this has been sitting in my wip's since the lastest ep aired and i finally finished it, so here's a lil smthn.

cw: general canon-typical angst, mild descriptions of levi's wounds

-

The ship sways as you walk toward Levi’s room, and so your palm grazes the handrail to guide you, to keep you steady, the world tilting beneath your feet.

It’s a feeling that has not left you since the Walls crumbled before your eyes and Eren’s skeletal frame rose, overwhelming, into the sky; the weight of his rage shaking the earth, the thunderous footsteps echoing the hammer of your heart. It lurched within you when Hange tapped on your window and told you Levi had been severely injured; that when they found him, he was on the precipice of death, and you had to hide the wave of nausea that surged in your stomach. Then again last night, when you finally arrived at the forest and saw Levi, his body broken and his spirit marred, and the feeling rolled through your chest, settling like a rock in your throat. Your eyes were locked on his frame as you dropped from your horse. Your feet hit the ground and you waited for the wave of relief to wash through you (he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive); instead, your world tipped on its axis, and the motion seeped into your head while static pressure built behind your eyes. Then once more, when you disappeared into the trees under the pretense of finding firewood, where the feeling choked you until you spit it all up, letting it spill out of you in salty tears, an anguished ocean pouring out from within.

Your grip tightens around the handrail. In the doorway, you find Levi sitting on the edge of the bed, his left thumb gently pressing at the knuckles of his two missing fingers.

“Are you just going to watch me like a creep?” His voice is rough and raw with a lilt of defeat, and you force yourself to hide the way it chisels at your heart.

You two have barely had time to speak since you reunited the previous night. It had been a month since you’d last seen each other, no contact; not even you were allowed to know Levi’s exact whereabouts with Zeke. But now, the distance between Paradis and Odiha has granted you a few moments of peace while the rest of humanity is crushed beneath the feet of hate. The distance between peace and destruction, then, is the space between one harbor and another.

“You should be resting,” you say, feeling the weight of air on your tongue.

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“It’s true.”

“Sounds like a shitty excuse to get rid of me.”

Levi still hasn’t looked at you; instead, his gaze remains on his hands, folded in his lap. You go to him, lowering yourself to the floor at his feet.

His steel-blue eyes meet yours. Many who’ve encountered him would describe Levi as a stoic, expressionless man. But if they paid any attention, they would know that his eyes are the epicenter of his emotion, and they betray him every time. And so, his eyes meet yours in the first private moment you’ve had in weeks, and they look tired. You feel the ship rock under your knees.

He looks at you and, tenderly brings his right hand forward to trace his two remaining fingers across the line of your collarbones. He touches you, but he seems far away and near all at once. You want to pull him into you. His fingers find the curve of your neck, and you let him, you let him find you, his fingertips roaming over your skin. The ship rocks within the breadth of this intimacy, and his hand is on your shoulder, squeezing. He closes his eyes and lets you keep him steady.

You look at him and, softly, bring your hand to his bandaged one, the same hand that has been re-learning the shape of its lover. You stroke your thumb down the lines of his palm his eyes flicker open.

“It must still hurt,” you say, voice just above a whisper.

You notice Levi’s jaw tighten. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want you to worry even though he knows you already are. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows the pain. It goes somewhere deep in his belly, you think; he stores it all right in the center of himself so that way he never goes hungry.

“Will you let me change your bandages?” you ask, noticing the sticky blood soaking through the wounds by his knuckles.

He nods, knowing better than to give you a hard time about it. He doesn’t want to give you a reason to walk away, he just needs you to stay. So, he lets you help him.

You stand and gently coax him to lean back against the wall at the head of the bed. Grabbing some supplies, you settle with a knee on either side of his waist, careful not to put your weight on him.

The cabin moves in tandem with your breath. Levi’s gaze stays on you while you work, his eyes tracing over the curve of your nose and the shape of your lips. He drinks in the color of your eyes, parched after going so long without it, and the attention you hold in them as you diligently work.

You hesitate over the bandages covering his eye. It’s then that Levi’s fingers find their way to your outer thigh, and you feel them grazing loosely over the fabric. He touches you like this, in this familiarity, like he’s telling you it’s okay. You almost laugh at the irony of it, Levi comforting you.

He really does look so tired.

You unwrap the bandages like you’re peeling back the layers to open him up at the core, and it’s there where the damage is done. The sutured wound runs the length of his face into his lips, still raw, the stitches clearly rushed. And although his eye is still intact, his vision clearly is not.

It’s startling to see him so weak, so broken, after all those years of knowing him as the opposite. He looks so human. And you felt it again, the panic rising into your throat from the reminder that you had almost lost him, that you might still, the fragility of his life heavier than it had ever been before.

In a way, this is grief. What were you grieving? He’s here, living, breathing in front of you, and yet you cannot help but feel the profound loss of his former self, dead and left somewhere on that island.

The feeling hollows you out.

You loved him and you love him still, you’ll love him even when your heart stops beating.

You bring your fingers to his wrist. You’ll love him even when there’s no longer a pulse.

He says your name and you’re pulled from your daze. You know he can see the tears welling up in your eyes, despite your efforts hide it.

“Am I that ugly?”

You shake your head no, as he brings his thumb to catch a fallen tear on your cheek. He frowns.

“Do I look scary?”

Levi feels the boat shift over the waves. What if the all the ugliness he feels inside has been blown outwards, reflected in the open wound of his face, seared into his skin? What if all this time, you simply had not seen it, and now, it was impossible to ignore? It was only a matter of time, he thinks, until you saw him for what he truly is.

 “Never scary,” you shake your head again, “You’ve never scared me. You didn’t then and you don’t now.”

All at once, Levi feels guilty for ever doubting you. How lucky he is, to have you, to be seen by you and loved by you. But, oh. How terrified he is of losing you. He can’t imagine how you must be feeling, after almost losing him. He hates himself for putting you through it.

You take a few breaths to ease the slight tremor in your hands and manage clean and rebandage the rest of his wounds. When you’ve finished, you gently lean into him, wrapping your arms over his shoulders and burrowing your face in his neck. You feel his arms bringing you closer still. For now, at least, you’re both here, here, here.

The two of you stay like that, and while white noise envelops you in this moment of reprieve, the boat sails smoothly. The floor is steady. And for a while, the world is still.

©2023 thephantomtheory | do not repost my work anywhere, and do not plagiarize