#shame he usually deprives himself of it so it's a little rare when he's still working for val | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

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cold (m.)

request. soft nsfw scenario with gojo and his s/o on winter ♡

cw. cockwarming, sleepy sex, dom! gojo, “kitten” as a pet name, overstimulation, creampie, slight nipple play, explicit smut

note. sorry for the late request completion, but here it is, thank you for requesting on my milestone event! i’m not sure if this was “soft” enough since i got carried away, but i hope you like it!

Flakes of snow crumpled outside, heaps of stark white outlining the pavement and frosting the green leaves that had now been concealed from view. From outside, you could see the neighbors’ dogs happily chasing one another, their paws sinking from the cold. Smiling to yourself, you buried deeper in the covers and into your main source of heat, who was still snoring softly as he enjoyed his rare day off’s from work.

Twisting to your side, you cupped Satoru’s face, feeling warmth blossom from your chest and onto your palms. He looked so pretty like this – crystal hair and lashes relaxed, dusting just above his eyelids and his glossy lips still moisturized even from the biting cold.

You ran a thumb to his lips, thinking how unfair it was that he looked so ethereal even when asleep.

It was a nice sight to see your boyfriend out from his teacher’s uniform, clad in black sweatpants and an equally dark sweatshirt that now hung low to expose his defined collarbones. Tempting, he was, especially since his arm was lazily draped over the curves of your hips, large, rough hands cupping your ass even if he’s in dreamland. You wondered what he’s thinking about – you, perhaps? hopefully. It would be a shame if he had something else in mind, and in a sudden wave of jealousy, you snuggled closer to him, your head buried in his chest.

From above you, Satoru stirred. His movements were miniscule, unsure, and still sleepy for the first few seconds, until his wandering hands grazed over your skimpy shorts (mostly as an excuse to absorb his warmth skin-to-skin) and onto the plump flesh of your ass.

“Morning,” he croaked out, voice still heavily laced with sleep. “What’re you doing there, kitten?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head and pecked him on the lips, taking the man by surprise, though he didn’t pull away. Both of you enjoyed each other’s presence in the moment – with him smiling sleepily at you, his fingers tracing patterns on your legs that are mingled with his, and with you grinning up at him like you were the happiest person in the world. And well, you were. “Baby,” you started, using your most docile tone that you knew always had him weak, accompanied with wide eyes and a puppy pout. “I don’t want to leave bed but we need to eat soon. We’ve been sleeping for like, half a day already.”

Satoru’s cerulean eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think we’ve been doing more than just sleeping and that’s why we can’t leave the bed. You see, my little kitten has unfortunately bound me to the bed with her deceiving nature as a temptress.”

“Stop!” you whacked his chest playfully, your cheeks only burning further with heat the louder he laughed at you.

It was true – the laziness and comfort the cold brought, along with the need to just be impossible close to each other made getting out of bed seem such like a daunting task. If that wasn’t enough, he’d also taken you in different ways, keeping up to his word that he would fuck you on every corner of the house if that was what need be. As a result, your legs ached. Satoru took the liberty to carrying you pretty much everywhere, but it also came with the price that he’d pull your undies down just the next second, stuffing either his fingers or cock deep into your heated cunt.

Satoru effortlessly captured your wrist to stop you from your measly attacks, grabbing you until you were draped all over his body. With your weight on top of his, legs straddled on either sides of his waist, you regarded one another with so much sensations – of adoration, of lust, of need, of love.

Your boyfriend leaned upwards, pressing his forehead to yours until he was close enough to graze your nose against his. “I want you,” he breathed out hotly, his hands already on their way to squeeze your perked ass. “It’s too cold – warm me up?”

“Nasty little bugger,” you teased, but made quick work of shoving his pants down anyway.

Thanks to his teasing and your overall undeniable attraction for your boyfriend, your body felt like it was incessantly burning, but you had a duty to please him, otherwise he’d be whiny and bother you the rest of the day with his neediness. So with a roll of your eyes that was accomplished with faux annoyance, you slipped his cock out of his boxers – unsurprisingly, Satoru was already hard – and slipped him inside your mouth.

Satoru sighed, whispering finally under his breath as he relaxed back on the pillows. You let him stay there, cock hard and throbbing, but he didn’t seem to show any indication he wanted to fuck. After last night’s activities where you accidentally scratched the leather couch open from when he took you from behind, ass cheeks sore and bruised from the roughness of his palm’s impact onto yours, he must be really tired, and your legs still trembled until now.

You settled on your side to make yourself comfortable. Eyes closed and breathing softly, your mouth was the only thing that kept his cock warm. He twitched every now and then, his soft, curled hairs tickling your cheek.

His fingers began to thread your hair for some light patting; silent appreciation for how sweet you were to him. A few minutes passed where the both of you stayed there, almost on the brink of falling back to sleep again from the laxness winter always came with, until Satoru groaned, pushing your head off away from his cock. Blinking up at him, your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks in confusion.

Satoru didn’t speak.

He simply pulled you towards him, but twisted your body before you could kiss him. His actions made you huff in disappointment, and your boyfriend chuckling under his breath did nothing to alleviate your protests that you warmed his cock up for him but wouldn’t even let you kiss him.

“Hmm, I just want things to be fair for us,” he hummed against your neck, fingers splayed out over your belly. Satoru’s hands were cold from under his oversized shirt that you wore, and you tried to push him away, though the guy was too stubborn to let go. In your irritation to make yourself comfortable, you failed to register that he was already tugging your shorts aside, groaning deep when the tip of his cock slid over your wet, pussy lips. “Fuck, kitten, no panties? You were really that bare around me the whole night? I bet you’re not wearing a bra too.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Easy to taunt as usual, his cold fingers trailed up from your stomach and onto your erect nipples, which he rolled playfully between his digits. Gasping from the stark contrast of your warm skin on his chilled ones, you ended up falling back on his arm under your head, shivering and clenching your jaw the longer he toyed with them.

His chest reverberated against your back from his laughter. You hated how sexy he sounded even when he wasn’t remotely trying to be tempting.

“You’re so cold.”

“Push me away then,” he smirked onto your hair, leaving little butterfly kisses over your cheeks that he could reach. Scoffing in protest, you cuddled closer to his arm and pushed your ass back to his erection to shut him up. “Oh,” he chuckled, “Did I make my kitten mad?”

“Shut up and put it inside me.”

“Your wish is my command, kitten.”

Your eyes shut tight as he slipped himself inside you, his long cock stretching you so good. Each inch of his cock slid in wonderfully, your walls accommodating and hugging him like he was meant to stay there and only there. The both of you released contented sighs now that he was seated deep inside you, his pelvis flat on the curve of your ass. His hands remained cupping your breasts as he mumbled sweet nothings into the crook of your neck, his body finally warm and your positions comfortable.

You would’ve happily fallen asleep like this – your head on his arm, his body locked around yours so tightly that you felt safe and protected, the curtain of his affection like a midnight lullaby to soothe you into slipping.

Then he started moving.

It started slow at first; slow, experimental thrusts that felt more like he was just wiggling to make himself comfortable. You chided at him for it, but the idiot only chuckled, complaining that you were ‘too tight and suffocating him.’ After telling him he could pull out and be deprived of your heat, he immediately shut up and only hugged you tighter, playfully sinking down his teeth over your neck to snarl, “Never. This little kitty is mine.”

You knew he was teasing you. It was evident from the way he slid in and out in an excruciatingly slow manner, as if trying to see if he could pull out those soft moans from your pretty lips that were wrapped around his cock that was now inside you just seconds ago.

Of course you wanted to moan. Of course you wanted to bask in this pleasure; his dick throbbing inside you, your walls clenching around him that granted you sharp intakes of breath from your rather unbothered boyfriend – but you just didn’t want to. Sure, maybe you were being bratty, but didn’t he love it? Besides, it only urged him to be a little rougher with you, a little meaner, to move a little faster and fuck you a little harder. It didn’t really take much to be reduced into the lovely kitten that mewled and clawed at his wrists.

This was something Satoru knew very well, and it really wasn’t beyond your boyfriend to push you over the edge.

Even with your back turned to him, you could feel his devious smirk hot on your skin, his nimble fingers slipping down to play with your clit. Now that elicited a whimper from you, and his snickers did nothing to alleviate the torturous pleasure he fucked you with.

Satoru kept flicking his fingers side to side until your clit throbbed between his fingers, the little bundle of nerves red and swollen just for his taking. Just as you were losing mind, he pushed your hair away from your neck and dipped his tongue into the shell of your ear, where his masculine groans and restrained pants harmonized beautifully with the little please’s you kept chanting over and over again. His cock was also relentless as he fucked into you, his hips godly into thrusting right at your sweet spot that had you viewing your room white like the snow that padded outside.

“Hnggr – T’Toru, too much—” you gripped at his wrist in an attempt to slow him down a little. He felt too good and too hot; at this pace, you couldn’t guarantee you could prolong your orgasm a little more, and you didn’t want to cum too early. “Baby, I—”

“You’ll take it,” he insisted, the grip he now had on your hips close to bruising. However, there was still that fact that you were his precious kitten that lingered at the back of his mind that prevented him from going too rough to you. The last thing he wanted was to break you, especially when he planned on fucking you until your pussy took in the shape of his cock and he’d fucked you too stupid that you remembered nothing else but his name. “You’re a good kitten, aren’t you? You can take it. Hold on a little longer for me.”

Your moans only turned to spur him on. You lay there limp like a ragdoll as he used you as he pleased, his hips snapping deep into yours until your mouth had fallen open, too shocked and drunken in pleasure to form a coherent thought.

“Feels so good,” your walls tightened around him, fingers laced around his veiny wrist that was still very much planted between your legs.

Satoru ignored the feverish manner of you rubbing your legs together, attacking you and ravishing you however he desired simply because why not. He was everywhere on you – his cock stretching you out and reaching places not even your toys could ever wander, his fingers rubbing and rolling your clit, his tongue and teeth leaving marks on the abused patch of skin on your neck and shoulders the longer he marked his territory with his scent on his signature. Not that he needed to since you would forever be his, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

“Fuck, kitten, so fucking tight for me,” he praised before his other hand gripped your boob, the pleasure too burning and overwhelming that you tipped your head back, knocking back on his chest where his heartbeat jumped and skipped even from underneath his shirt. “Oh, you always make me feel so good, always warming me up, huh?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, now please, I wanna cum,” you whined desperately, catching his lips at the same time his pace increased and made your body tremble. “Satoru,” you cried in between the kiss, hoping that he’d listen to your please this time. “Baby, too much, p-please?”

“Cum for me,” Satoru encouraged, rolling his hips in time with you meeting his cock thrust by thrust. He held onto your boob like it was his lifeline, everything he was doing igniting fireworks to explode within you. With one final, teasing pinch to your engorged clit, Satoru pushed you to the edge and you came around him, hard. The aftershocks of your orgasm were ridden out the longer he fucked himself deep into you, withering down fucked-out mumblings of please, it’s too much left unheard by his ears. Your walls clamped down around his cock the longer he stimulated you, and you were crying around him from the sensations bursting within you, the tears dripping down to his shirt.

Finally, his thrusts grew sloppy – a sign he was close. Satoru stilled his hips inside you, buried to the hilt and his skin flushed hot next to yours before you felt him spill his seed right into your warmth.

The feeling of both your cum dripping out your pussy lips were halted when Satoru pulled one last thrust, shushing you with a kiss when you moaned brokenly from the movement. You panted in his arm afterwards, holding onto his bicep and the sheets for dear life. He refused to pull out as he gathered you into his chest, kissing your tear-stained cheeks and wet lashes with a tenderness so alien to his dominance in bed.

“Shhh, shhh, you’re alright, I got you, kitten,” he soothed, brushing your hair away from your damp skin.

The heat on your bodies were immediately replaced by the biting cold, and you kissed him back once you were settled, sighing into the sweetness of his mouth and everything that was Satoru.

“’Em tired,” you eventually mumbled, too exhausted to bother cleaning up the mess he’d left between your legs.

You were thankful that he hadn’t pulled out yet, otherwise his load would drip further down your thighs and make a mess on the sheets – something you didn’t want to be bothered with.

As if sensing that you needed to be pampered now more than ever, your boyfriend nodded behind you, wiggling his lips one last time to make himself comfortable inside you. His warmth was comforting and more than welcomed, so much so that you momentarily forget his cum was still inside you. Satoru didn’t stop in caressing your skin, rolling the knots of your shoulders until you were growing sleepy before him, legs and bodies in a tangled mess similar brought about by the winter’s result to crave heat. And in the presence of your boyfriend, you were once falling back to into dreamland, but not before Satoru left one last reminder.

“Rest as much as you need, kitten,” Satoru whispered into the hollow of your ear, his tongue poking out to slowly coax you into the blissful lull of slumber. “You’re gonna need it for when I keep fucking you until winter passes.”

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

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Unlucky in Love

masterlist

Gif credit to @ogledalo-moje-duse

Summary: Spencer is unlucky in love - until he isn’t.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive content

Word Count: 3.4k

Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. In his early twenties, Spencer often caught himself fantasizing about being on the receiving end of some great storybook romance straight out of one of the classic novels on his bookshelf. On the rare occurrence where his mind was able to slow down long enough, Spencer would daydream about what his future partner would be like. Would they share his fondness for the written word, or his penchant for foreign cinema? Would they find his tendency to go off on tangents endearing and his less than fashionable style of dress charming? Spencer liked to think so, but the likelihood of finding someone who could accept him despite all of his quirks seemed low.

But still he hoped, even though he knew hope was a dangerous thing. Hope gave life to the possibility of disappointment – and if there was one thing Spencer did not need more of, it was that.

Spencer Reid was in love with the idea of love – obsessed with the idea of his soul intertwining with someone else’s. But with his thirtieth birthday quickly approaching and absolutely no prospective love interests in sight, Spencer was feeling more than a little disheartened. It certainly didn’t help that everywhere he turned, love was running rampant. Hotch had Beth, Penelope had Kevin, Jennifer had Will, and Morgan had… any number of possible partners. Emily and Rossi were both unattached, but happily so in a way that Spencer just couldn’t quite manage.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing the people around him happy – it was just that he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally get his chance at love.

A month before Spencer’s thirtieth birthday, everything changes.

When a member of Garcia’s victims’ support group goes missing, it’s all hands on deck at the BAU. It’s not that they’d give any less than one hundred percent on any other given day, but as with any case that hits close to home, everyone on the team is in a frenzy trying to put the pieces together. The thing that makes this case different is the fact that people from other departments are quick to lend a hand. It comes as no surprise to Spencer – Penelope is a social butterfly by nature. She made it her business to know and befriend everyone in the building. Her sunny disposition is hard not to love, and her current distress had garnered the support of more than a few non-team members.

By the time the case wraps up, the bullpen is much busier and, much to Spencer’s chagrin, much louder than usual. The steady influx of people has Spencer’s head spinning and he can’t seem to focus on the papers sitting in front of him. What should take him thirty seconds to read has almost taken twenty minutes, and at this point the words on the paper are all running together. Spencer knows that it doesn’t help that he’s running on less than three hours of sleep, as evidenced by the frequency of his yawns. Worse even is the fact that his coffee cup is empty and no, he thinks, that simply will not do. With a sigh Spencer pushes away from his desk, bones creaking as he stands.

With his coffee cup in hand, Spencer shuffles to the breakroom. He goes through the motions of preparing his drink, lazily stirring in the mountain of sugar before turning to leave.

Spencer supposes that if it weren’t for the fact that he was horribly sleep deprived, he would’ve seen you walking down the hallway. But alas, Spencer’s alertness had been compromised by poor sleeping habits, and he isn’t aware of your presence until his body is colliding with yours and his hot coffee is dripping down the front of your blouse.

“Ouch,” you whimper, and Spencer is immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

“O-Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he splutters. Without waiting for a response, Spencer’s rushing into the break room and procuring a thick stack of napkins. The part of his brain that controls logical thinking is apparently overrun by the onset of his mortification, and in an act of absolutely panic, he begins to dab at the stains with one of the napkins.

“I-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so so sorry,” Spencer stutters out, frantically attempting to blot the stain. “I’ll give you money for a new shirt. A-Actually, you should probably take this one off. The best way to treat scalds is to immediately get the person away from the heat source. You should also run some cold water over it.”

In his hurry to rectify his mistake, Spencer hadn’t managed to take a good look at you. When his eyes leave the stain in favor of looking at your face, he prepares himself to see anger there. What he doesn’t expect is for your face to be just as flushed as his, with eye brows raised in shock.

Spencer also doesn’t expect this to be the moment he’s been waiting on his entire life, but one look into your eyes tells him this is it - this is your person.

Stunned into a stupor, Spencer stills, eyes boring into your own. You’re even more beautiful than he’d dared to let himself imagine, but in all honesty that didn’t matter much. What matters is the fact that there’s a faint hint of smile lines etched into your skin, and your eyes are so inherently kind that Spencer has no doubt that you’re as gentle as you are alluring. Your benevolence is also evidenced by the fact that you hadn’t immediately begun to yell at him, and for that he is thankful.

Spencer’s revelation renders him unable to form any semblance of thought, and before he knows it almost a solid minute of him gaping at you passes. You begin to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I, uh, appreciate the help, and you seem like a nice enough guy, but your hand is on my boob and I kind of make it a point to not let strangers touch the goods. So, if you don’t mind,” you stammer, looking pointedly at his hand that is still pressing a napkin to your chest. Spencer recoils as if he’s the one that’s been scalded.

“I-I didn’t mean to, um, t-touch your -,” Spencer gulps, “- chest. I swear I was just trying to get the stain out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he chokes out. Spencer had imagined the moment he’d come face to face with his person a million times, and none of his daydreams had accounted for the possibility of him giving her second degree burns and inadvertently copping a feel. His emotions fell somewhere between mortification and elation.

“Mm likely story,” you murmur, lips upturning into a smile that has Spencer feeling weak in the knees. Spencer practically swoons. “Do you make it a habit to ask strangers to take their tops off, or am I just special?”

Oh God, had I really suggested that? Spencer cringes and wonders what good an IQ as high as his was when it seemed to fail him at times like these. Speaking to women had never been a specialty of his, despite Derek’s coaching, and Spencer was floundering to come up with an acceptable response.

You are the most special woman in the world, probably. Nope – too creepy, and Spencer definitely doesn’t want to scare you off. Not when he’s been waiting the better part of thirty years to meet you.

I didn’t mean to insinuate that you should take off your shirt, but I also wouldn’t particularly mind if you did. Even worse – that would certainly earn him a stern talking to from HR.

Spencer decides to go for the honest approach.

“I-I’m not sure how to answer that.”

His honesty draws a laugh from you, and Spencer loves the sound so much that he decides then that he’ll never tell a lie again. You shake your head at him and reach for the napkins that he still has clutched in his hands.

“What’s your name?” you ask him as you continue his earlier efforts to sop up the coffee.

It’s probably the easiest question he’s ever been asked. That doesn’t stop him from making a fool out of himself, though.

“I’m Doctor Spencer R-Reid. Uh, I’m Spencer. Y-You don’t have to call me Doctor.”

Someone please put me out of my misery.

Your eyes meet his again and he can tell that you’re holding back a laugh.

“Okay, then, Spencer,” you say as you discard the napkins in a nearby trash bin. “I’m Y/N.” You punctuate your words with an outstretched hand, and before Spencer can think better of it, the usual spiel come tumbling out of his mouth.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

Your lower your hand and cock your head to the side.

“Are you always this forward, Doctor Reid?” you tease him, eyes flashing amusedly.

“I-I didn’t mean that we should kiss,” Spencer interjects, cringing at the way his voice has suddenly raised in pitch. “N-Not that I wouldn’t kiss you! I-I’m sure that kissing you would be really n-nice. I just meant that… you know. Germs.”

Are you there, God? It’s me, Spencer. A hole opening up in the ground and swallowing me up would be great.

To Spencer’s delight, you don’t seem offended in the slightest.

“I cannot believe that they’ve been hiding you up here, Spencer Reid. I should’ve come to visit Penny years ago.”

Wait – what?

“You work here?”

You nod.

“I work on the floor below this one – sex crimes,” you explain.

“For how long?”

“Coming up on three years now.”

Three years. You’d been right under Spencer’s nose for three years and he hadn’t the slightest clue. You’d parked your car in the same parking garage and taken the same elevator as he! How many times had your paths nearly crossed in the last three years? If he’d been just a little bit earlier or a little bit later getting into work, might the two of you met earlier? The possibility of it was maddening.

“Oh, wow. I-I’ve never seen you,” Spencer mutters lamely. But miraculously, you don’t think he’s lame, if your response is any indication.

“Nor I you, Doc. It’s a shame, too. You’re a funny guy.”

Spencer Reid has been called a lot of things in his lifetime – funny was never one of them.

“Y-Yeah. I’m a real riot at parties,” he deadpans. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you hum, and Spencer really hopes that you mean it. “Would you mind escorting me to Penelope’s office?”

Spencer nods, and the two of you fall in step together. Spencer’s wracking his brain again for something – anything- he could say to fill the silence. Thankfully, you don’t seem quite as inept at conversing as he, and you beat him to it.

“You look a little young yourself, Spencer. How long have you worked here?”

“Uh, I’ve actually worked here for almost eight years. I started when I was twenty-two.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock.

“Twenty-two, huh? That makes you – what? Thirty now? I wouldn’t put you a day past twenty-five,” you muse, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to make of that. You must pick up on the conflicted look on his face, because you clarify. “That’s a good thing, Doc. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m thirty.”

Spencer has to remind himself how to breathe.

“I’m not thirty yet. Technically I have twenty-three more days. I could have a rapid decline in attractiveness by then.”

Spencer’s not usually one to try to be funny, but she seems to have a good sense of humor and he wants to impress you in any way he can.

“I guess I’ll have to swing back by in twenty-three days and find out.”

The two of you come to a stop in front of Penelope’s office and Spencer tries not to look as disappointed as he feels. He doesn’t want your meeting to come to an end – not when there’s so much about you that he wants to know. He wants to ask about your opinion on books and obscure foreign films and most importantly, Spencer wants to know what you think about him. Did meeting him affect you in the same way it did him? Did you secretly wish to make this moment last, too?

Spencer wants to say so much, but he can’t. He’s too awkward and too scared and too nervous to find the right words. So instead, he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m sorry about your blouse. Can I please give you the money to buy a new one? I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“Absolutely not. It’s really not that big of a deal. Didn’t even really care for the shirt, if I’m being honest. Red really isn’t my color.”

Spencer wants to tell you how wrong you are – that he’s infinitely certain that you’d look irresistible in any color – but he doesn’t.

You reach for the door knob, and Spencer’s shoulders slump.

“It was nice meeting you, Spencer.”

And then you’re gone, and Spencer can’t help but think that he royally fucked up the most important introduction of his entire life.

When Spencer envisioned how his life would look at age thirty, he’d imagined it being a lot different than it is now. He’d hoped to use his intelligence for something great – finding a way to cure Alzheimer’s had been his main aspiration. Yet, here he was, thirty years old with nothing more than three PhDs to his name. He’d accomplished nothing of great significance, and the idea of having wasted his intelligence was eating away at him.

In short, Spencer Reid was in a bit of a funk.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen you since that fateful day in the bullpen. Spencer had contemplated paying you a visit, but the lingering embarrassment over his actions kept him from reaching out. He didn’t think he could handle how badly a rejection from you would hurt, so instead he sulked around the office and wallowed in his own self-deprecation.

Spencer’s birthday wasn’t something he tended to advertise. From a young age, he’d chosen to observe it silently. Usually, his mother would forget, and he never really had any friends to celebrate with, so the day was always rather unimportant to him. Perhaps he would order takeout and gorge himself on greasy food while he sat alone in his apartment. It had been good enough for him last year, and he supposed it would have to suffice this year as well.

He made it a point not to mention it to his coworkers, and the day passed by just as any other day. By the time five o clock rolled around, Spencer was waving a goodbye to his coworkers and heading out the door. As he waits for the elevator, he debates on whether to order Thai food or pizza for dinner.

Just as he settles on Thai, the elevator doors open.

“Oh, thank God, I was worried that you had left already!”

Before Spencer can get over the initial shock of seeing you, you’re stepping out of the elevator and into his space, an excited smile on your lips. And then you’re holding out your hand, and Spencer’s almost moved to tears when he sees you wielding a single chocolate cupcake.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like chocolate or vanilla better, so I went with my gut. I get the feeling you’re a chocolate kind of guy,” you say, eyes shining as you look up at him. “So, was I right?”

“You brought this for me?” Spencer asks, voice barely above a whisper. He can’t fathom it – that you had spared him any thought past your initial meeting. Spencer had surely expected you to forget about him entirely. Either that, or you’d written him off as someone to be avoided.

You nod.

“Of course, I did. It’s your birthday. Everyone deserves something sweet on their birthday.” You pause, the smile dropping from your face. “It is your birthday, right? I didn’t miss it, did I?”

Spencer is slow to shake his head.

“N-No, you didn’t miss it. I’m just surprised you remembered.”

You chuckled softly.

“You’re very unforgettable, Doctor Reid,” you say, and Spencer’s heart flutters in his chest. “And you didn’t answer my question.” You gesture to the cupcake expectantly.

“Chocolate is my favorite,” Spencer breathes out, raising a shaky hand and taking it from her. “I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re turning thirty. That’s a very big deal, Doc.,” you argue, and Spencer gives you a tentative smile.

“If you say so.”

“I do,” you smirk, before hitting the button to open the elevator doors. “So, do you have any big plans to celebrate?”

The doors open and you and Spencer file into the elevator together– an event three years in the making.

“Not really. I was just going to order some food and stay in,” Spencer says before taking a bite of the cupcake. It tastes wonderful – better than a store-bought cupcake could ever be. This cupcake was undoubtably made from scratch, and the thought of you taking the time out of your day to bake something for him makes him feel weak at the knees. Pair that with the way you’re looking up at him and Spencer worries he might collapse.

“What kind of food?”

“Thai,” Spencer says around the mouthful of cake.

“Mm,” you hum. “You know – I happen to love Thai food. And I also happen to not have any plans for the evening.”

Even Spencer, who struggles to decipher the simplest of social cues, can deduce that you are insinuating that you want to spend the evening with him. He’s thankful, then, that he had already swallowed the bite of cupcake, because there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d have choked on it. Spencer gapes at you, but your gaze is unwavering and your body language gives no indication that you were joking.

“D-Do… Do you want to, uh, come over?” Spencer trips over his words more times than any grown man should, but in his defense, he isn’t exactly well versed in matters like this.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes.” Spencer answers so quickly that it should be embarrassing, but it’s hard to feel anything but happy when you’re looking at him like that.

“Then in that case, I thought you’d never ask,” you sigh dramatically, and then the door opens up and you link your arm with his. “You know, I was beginning to think I’d never see you again. I’ve been driving Penelope crazy asking about you, Doc.”

“You’ve been asking about me?” Spencer asks, incredulous.

“Absolutely. It’s not every day that you meet a guy who has the audacity to feel you up and ask you to undress within the first five minutes. I just had to know more,” you tease, and Spencer can’t help but laugh. Despite the cold air of the parking garage, Spencer feels warm – warmer than he’s ever felt and he knows that it has everything to do with the way you’ve pressed yourself against his side.

“In that case, I’m very glad I spilled my coffee on you,” Spencer says and you let out a snort.

“Yeah, I could’ve done without that part. And the part where you called me germy.”

“I did not mean it like that,” Spencer insists. You hum and detach yourself from him, and Spencer instantly misses the contact.

“Because it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off the hook,” you announce, making your way to the other side of his car, all while never taking your eyes off him. “And if you’re lucky, birthday boy, I might just be willing to test that theory of yours.”

Spencer cocks his head to the side.

“Theory?”

You nod, and the smile that creeps across your face is the best birthday present he’s ever gotten.

“You said you thought kissing me would be nice. I think we should find out.”

Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love. But as he steals glances at you on the way to his apartment, his chest swells with a hope that maybe – just maybe – his luck is about to change.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x y/n #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #fluff #fanfiction

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starilicious · 3 years

Text

ishq wala love (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader comforts an insecure echo after the end of tbb episode 4 "cornered" about having mechanical parts as part of his body.

》 word count: ~2.2k

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: slight sensory overload, mild panic attack (i think it could be classified as relatively vague in regards to the description), insecure echo about his body, a teensy bit of in universe swearing, lots of flufffff and a dash of angst here and there, no use of y/n [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: extremely mild ones from tbb episode 4 "cornered"

》 a/n: hello! this is my first tbb fic, so i really hope i do the show, the characters, and the fandom justice hehe ^_^ over the past few days, i've become obsessed with tbb fics, particularly the echo x reader ones bc my GOODNESS this man is such a soft bean who deserves all the love in the galaxy. as a result, please enjoy this sleep-deprived frenzy of a fic that i wrote at 1 am and let me know your thoughts! :)

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "ishq wala love" from the film student of the year. i've linked the song (in blue) with some pretty good english translations in case you would like to take a listen, but it isn't necessary for the fic–i just thought it fit well!

• i kind of got way too invested in building up the environment at the beginning, so apologies if it seems like a slow start! i just had to indulge in having the other characters there too <3

• please ignore the inaccuracies of the havoc marauder. i don't really know what the ship looks like, especially the living quarters, so i unintentionally ended up using the ghost from swr to guide my writing for that part.

• what the reader says at the end about the word in love in her native language is true. the language i'm referring to here is hindi, and we have several different words for love. in my very humble opinion, i think it’s one of the many characteristics of the language that makes hindi so sweet-sounding and poetic :)

• THANK YOU FOR 100 NOTES OMG AHHH YOU ALL ARE TRULY AMAZING 😭<333 (7/1/2021)

After Tech piloted the Bad Batch away from Pantora and safely entered hyperspace, you all decided to turn in to get some rest–or at least attempt to. With the bounty hunter scare, you and the boys figured it would be best to discuss what to do tomorrow morning, for Omega’s sake.

You tucked Omega in with her doll and offered her a comforting smile. “Don’t worry ‘Meg,” you said softly, running a gentle hand through her cropped blonde hair. “You’ll be safe, I promise. You’re stuck with us for life.”

Omega smiled sleepily at your teasing and held her arms out for a hug, one which you gladly indulge. “Sweet dreams, love,” you murmur as you let go. You shut off the lamp in her makeshift room and closed the curtains as you climbed down the ladder.

You turned around to find Hunter looking at you from his seat in front of the blinking controls. You raised an eyebrow as you plopped down in front of him unceremoniously, the exhaustion of the action-packed day catching up to you.

"You're good with her," he murmured as you both glanced at the light beige divider and you shrugged in response.

"Just looking out for her. Besides, you're not so bad yourself. She mimics your every move," you grinned. Hunter chuckled fondly as he recalled the memory where they were all stuck in the Kaminoan prison cell and Omega copied his every gesture.

The two of you lapsed in a comfortable silence as you mulled over the day's events, the hum of the ship thrumming beneath your feet.

"We'll be okay. It's tiring and difficult and none of us know how to raise a child, but we'll be okay," you said, breaking the quiet with optimism. You placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder and smiled. "Crosshair will be okay too. Have faith."

Hunter sighed but nodded in agreement as he put his hand over yours. "Goodnight," he said as he stood up, stretching his muscles.

"Sleep well."

You sat at the small table for a few more minutes to think before standing up yourself. You quickly checked in on Tech in the cockpit since he was on watch, and he immediately shooed you away, insisting you get some sleep. You had a feeling he only did so to optimize the ship in peace without distractions.

Nevertheless, you obliged and left him alone. Walking to the back of the ship, you completed your rounds. Wrecker was snoring loudly and you stifled a laugh. At least he was sleeping well–it was all you could ask for really. But frankly, you had no idea how Crosshair was ever able to sleep through it. Thinking about him and seeing his empty bunk made your heart pang in loss, but you were as determined as the rest of them to somehow bring him back. You had to.

You opened the door to Hunter and Tech’s shared room to find Hunter already sleeping soundly and you quickly left. With his enhanced senses, he was already a light sleeper, and compounded with his responsibilities as a leader, he rarely got any rest. You worried for him.

Last stop was your and Echo's room. You stepped in to find the light still on. Echo was sitting on the floor in front of your bunk, staring at the ground.

"Hey there handsome," you joked lightly in an attempt to get his attention and mask your unease. Echo usually only came near your bunk when something was wrong and after everything that happened today, it was safe to say you were concerned.

Echo didn't respond. Did he hear me? You make your way over to your lover and sit down in front of him. You place your hands on top of his.

"Echo, honey?" You said softly and finally finally he looked up at you. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Oh, darling," you breathed and you moved to his side to envelop him into a hug, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You didn’t say anything more–you saw the deep pain swirling in his eyes, the grief, the loss. The anger. You let Echo take the lead; you knew how difficult it was to wrangle raging thoughts and muster them into words.

You didn’t know how much time passed of you two sitting on the floor, breathing each other in before Echo spoke.

“Today… when we went on the supply run, I was dressed as a droid.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly where this was going. But you didn’t interrupt, letting him continue. Your thumb rubbed absentmindedly on his arm as you listened.

“That vendor we were talking to wouldn't take what we had. And then he saw me,” Echo took a deep breath. You stayed quiet, holding his hand in a manner that you hoped soothed his anxieties at least a little bit.

“Hunter sold me as a droid to him. I-I know he doesn’t see me as a droid. I know that. But–” Echo’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat of the emotion building up. Echo didn’t know how to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t even want to speak it aloud–that would make it feel too real. And Echo severely doubted he could handle the heartbreak. Can I do this?

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured and you hummed in response. Echo pulled away from you, his hand still in yours. Now or never. “I need you to be completely, absolutely, 100% honest with me,” he whispered. Echo steeled his expression, doing his best to hide how terrified he truly was.

You nodded because of course you would be. When were you not?

But the way Echo gazed at you threw you off. Something was wrong, very wrong. You were almost scared of what he would say next, but you made a gesture for him to say what was on his mind. Clearly, this was important.

“Do you really want to be with me when I’m just–” Echo struggled with the last few words and you strained to pick them up with how they caught in his throat. “–a pathetic, disgusting, hybrid machine?” It’s out, I said it. I said it. Echo felt like he couldn’t breathe, the pressure on his chest too much, too much. He stared down at the floor, face flooded with shame.

You stared at him in blatant disbelief, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open from a shocked laugh. No no no Echo. You’re nothing of the sort. You didn’t move. Echo’s breath hitched as he looked back up at you, broken and open and raw.

“Don’t lie, please don’t lie to me. I know there's no way you could ever love me when I… when I look like this,” Echo whispered, but he may as well have shouted with the way the blood was rushing through your ears.

And then something in you snapped.

You removed your hands from his and placed them on his cheeks, pulling him in until your foreheads were touching. “Echo, you need to listen to me,” you instructed and heaved a breath as you tried to sort your own rushing thoughts into articulated words. But the effort was futile as your careful speech turned into a haphazard and passionate stream of consciousness.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and your heart broke into pieces. Echo gave you all of his attention. What are you going to say? He didn’t want you to agree, but he would understand if you did. Echo felt disgusted with himself. The walls were closing in on him. Breathing was getting harder.

“You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t give one flying banthashit about any of your mechanical parts. If anyone ever says anything about them, they’re di’kuts and you can send them my way because I will not hesitate to punch some sense into them,” you spat with pure determination, not even noticing the Mando’a slip. After being surrounded by clones for so long, you absorbed bits and pieces of the language. You didn’t even register how Echo picked up on the word, much too focused on getting your point across. You were a person on a mission and nothing would stand in your way.

The knot in Echo’s stomach was loosening a bit, the storm in his mind beginning to break. The walls were a bit farther from him. He wasn’t drowning in his own presence anymore.

“Because you know what? You’re still my Echo. You’re a man, my dear. Not a machine. You never were, and never will be. These parts?” you gestured to his scomp link, his legs, the cybernetic implant in his head. “They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t focus on them.”

You smiled sadly as you rubbed your thumbs gently on his cheeks. “I fell in love with you, Echo, not your body. I love the way you make me laugh, the way you comfort me, the way you cry with me. As much as I kriffing hate that you have been through so much pain because of those damned Separatists, I’m grateful for the fact that I’m in love with a man who would do anything for his family, for his brothers.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you remembered Fives coming back home from the Citadel but no Echo in sight. You would never admit it to anyone, but you swore a piece of you had died that day.

Echo felt like he was going to cry. The pressure that had been building up in his chest was releasing. He could breathe again, slowly, slowly. His only focus was you, was your words. The artificial lights didn’t seem to be as glaring now. They were softer, calmer.

“Echo, my love, even through it all, you not only survived, but you came out on top, victorious,” you paused, briefly overcome with how much love and gratitude you had for this wonderful man. “You came back to me, Echo, and you’re as handsome as ever. I have never stopped loving you, and never will. Don’t you ever forget that darling.”

Echo drew in a shaky breath. The harsh cold of the floor grates was biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. It grounded him as much as your warm touch on his face. He could breathe again. My cyar’ika.

Your fiery and passionate emotional speech came to an end as you stared into your lover’s eyes. There was so much more you could say, but you feared words would not be able to convey it all. You hoped your eyes would be enough to soothe his pained and tired soul.

Silent tears trailed down Echo’s face and you gently brushed them away as you pulled him into a tight hug. It was all you could do to not cry yourself. Echo was always so strong–you admired him for it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with appreciation and love. You didn’t say anything. There was no need to. The charged air between you both was enough. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence on the floor of the Havoc Marauder, deep in your own thoughts.

“Ishq wala love,” you muttered fondly after some time, still caught up in your own mind.

“Hm?” Echo questioned, curious as to what you said. The soft sound gently pulled you out of the clouds and back to the man in your arms as you attempted to explain.

“There’s a phrase in my native language, ishq wala love. You see, in Basic, there’s just one word for love, which is love. But back home, we have several different words for love, each with their own subtle, but distinct meaning,” you blew out a breath as you tried to figure out what to say. Echo was hanging on to your every word.

“There’s… there isn’t really a direct translation, but the best I can come up with is that the love that we have, ishq, is much deeper than just romantic love. It’s deep and strong and pure and unyielding. It–it reminded me of us,” you admitted, a bit sheepish. Your fingers dance along Echo’s scomp link, nervous.

Echo took a moment to process your explanation before smiling. You felt your heart stitch itself back together again after seeing that beautiful smile. You would do anything to keep it on his lovely face.

“Ishq wala love,” he echoed, his pronunciation a bit off. You giggled in response. “Close enough,” you teased and Echo simply beamed. You leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his soft lips, rubbing his metal arm gently.

Echo stood up then, offering a hand to you to help you up. You took it and he led you over to the bunk you shared together. You both quickly climbed in, relaxing in the warmth of the well worn blankets and the other’s presence.

Your head was near his chest and you could hear the soothing dull sound of his steady heartbeat. Your arm curled over his waist protectively and your head rested comfortably on his flesh arm. Echo shut off the light and you were ensconced in black velvety darkness.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

“Sweet dreams, Echo. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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local-ground-apple · 4 years

Note

Can i get a oneshot where Azul finds out about reader's secret "pics of Azul Ashengrotto when he's not looking" magicame account lol

oh yes, the only magicam account that got more followers than Vil and Cater

wait for “Oh Azul, your radiant beauty is an art” discourse under the cut.

alternative title: Koebi-chan turns into sneaky snake to immortalise the beauty of local octopus who for once doesn’t know how to turn this situation into a contract feat. neighbourhood-friendly eels dying from laughter

“Azul, I think you should see this”

Jade passed his phone to Azul who was engrossed in his paperwork. With a heavy sigh, he shifted his attention from recent golden contract and looked at the screen. His eyes widen at the sight of pictures.

Pictures of him.

Lot of photos on one blog titled: “Pictures of Azul Ashengrotto taken when he’s not looking”

,,It’s surprisingly quite popular account”

Jade remarked not sparing a single glance at Azul who was going through an existential crisis. He was anxiously scrolling through countless picture taken, as the description of magicam account stated, when he was not looking.

Him doing some homework, him preparing a special golden contract, him burning his fingers on boiling hot tea or even him looking at the star-studded sky.

When someone could have taken those pictures? Why? Does he have a stalker? Wasn’t he the one who occasionally stalked people?

Multiple questions run through Azul’s head as his hand run through his hair. He let out a heavy sigh, not even bothering to listen to Floyd who was having a time of his life. Eel sat comfortably in his chair and was dying from laughter.

Azul’s secret admirer and stalker? That octopus having a secret fan-blog? How amusing~~ What unfortunate soul could be so engrossed in that fishy businessman?

“Who runs it? Names, Jade, I need names.”

Oh, so octopus entered the “feral disposure mode”, remarked Floyd who licked his lips in anticipation. Oh how he couldn’t wait to squeeze some poor, unfortunate souls.

“Ohhh, yess, we could squeeze that little admirer of yours”

,,I doubt Azul will let you after I reveal who it is”

Jade cut in, making everyone confused. Floyd’s wide grin slightly faltered and Azul raised an eyebrow.

“Ne, ne Jade, don’t keep us in suspension~~”

“It’s Y/N.”

The sound of your name entailed various reactions. Jade only chuckled seeing Azul going through another crisis, as his eyes widen and he was left utterly speechless, while Floyd was (once again) dying from laughter.

“Koebi-chan? THAT Koebi-chan??! It couldn’t get funnier!”

Exclaimed Floyd while Azul was still engrossed in his thoughts.

It suddenly made sense.

The way you would observe him, constantly on your phone when he was taking care of contracts or paperwork. Stealing secret glances and giggling and always dismissing his questions when he asked what made you laugh.

Given that you were dating Azul and he was a busy businessman, you were a rather special guest at Mostro Lounge and recently you’ve been spending there more time than in your own dorm.

“I mean it’s kind of fair. I send you to spy on her and she spies on me in return”

Remarked Azul with a heavy sigh, quickly pushing up his glasses and standing up. He was determined to leave his cabinet before Leech twins tease him or make fun of that blog any further. He caught a glimpse of Floyd opening his lips to throw some nasty and vicious remarks at him and Jade’s eyes were glowing with mischief.

It was high time to evacuate and excuse himself of the room.

Azul had a bigger fish to take care of than Leech twins.

It seemed that his angelfish gone a little bit too far.

…

,,Y/N dear, could you perhaps explain this?”

,,Right, Shrimpyy~~!! Why would you take so many pictures of Azul when you could just admire me!”

Azul’s deadly calm and cold voice as well as two pairs of arms wrapping up around you, successfully pulled you out from redoing mock papers for alchemy. You let out a loud shriek and jumped at the sudden contact.

Ignoring Floyd and his tightening with each passing second grip, you focused on the screen which Azul was practically showing in your face.

“Oh, you found that?”

You were stunned. You knew the day of your doom will come sooner or later, so you were prepared for every possible scenario. Yet, that didn’t stop you from screaming internally as multiple thoughts run through your brain.

Oh shit. I knew that was a bad idea. What were I thinking? That guppy brain of mine! Please sir, don’t let those eels squeeze me. If that’s how I shall go down, at least I’ve left a worthy legacy.

Azul quickly remarked your flushed face as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously. You tried to wriggle out of the twins’ grip, but your attempts were quickly proved to be futile. Much to Floyd’s dismay you soon stopped struggling and instead you decided to fake your confidence.

Baffle them with your bullshit, usually seemed to be a good strategy.

The other choice would be to seduce Azul, but you weren’t sure if you were able to put on the show right in front of twins.

“I took excellent pictures, didn’t I? I even made sure the light was perfect on each of them. Oh, look at this one! You looked suuuuuper handsome that day, didn’t you? You’re rarely that cheerful and your smile causes flowers to bloom in a 50 meter radius. So it’s only natural that I felt the need to make that look last forever~”

You ignored Floyd’s laughter, subtle chuckles from Jade and Azul who was not only confused and wasn’t sure whether he should scold you or ask you to continue rabbiting on. His face flushed and he tried his best to still appear “collected and calm”, but you could see through his façade.

Azul was actually flattered that you found him worthy of not even a single picture but a whole blog dedicated to his beauty, as you phrased it.

“Y’know, you’re a walking art and I couldn’t help myself but to immortalise it!”

You exclaimed with a bright smile and you lower your head slightly, so hair could do you a favour and hide your embarrassment which was written all over your hair.

“Awwww, Jade, aren’t they such cuties~~~”

,,I think we should leave them alone Floyd”

And with that Jade excused them, leaving you with frustrated Azul who kind of wanted to scold you for taking pictures without his permission and kind of wanted you to shower him with even more praises.

He was greedy, insatiable and desired more.

You giggled seeing his flushed face. You hesitantly came closer, standing right before him. You quickly cut the remaining distance and your forehead touched his, resting in that place. Azul sighed deeply and his gloved hand reached to run through your hair.

“What should I do with you, angelfish, hmm?”

,,Well, you could perhaps kiss me?”

You suggested with a sly smile, making Azul let out a barely audible chuckle. He slightly shook his head and you felt the tension leaving his body.

“You know there’s price for that.”

“Dang, you want me to delete that blog, don’t you?”

,,Y/N you should delete that blog, so my image could appear more professional”

You pouted dramatically, pulling away from him. Before Azul could clarify himself, you cut him.

“Well, that’s a shame depriving all those people from your radiating beauty!”

Well, maybe you were going a bit overboard with the amount of praises and dramatic power it entailed.

Either way, Azul lost it.

Instead of collected and meticulous octopus you saw a determined and frustrated man who was more than eager to protest.

,,No, no, Y/N. I should be THE ONE who should be complementing you and worshipping you, but about that price”

He exclaimed and you only giggled in response as Azul took you in his arms. He began leaving delicate, butterfly kisses on your neck in breaks incoherently mumbling praises.

Your lips soon got captured by chapped lips which tasted like water and salt into a delicate, gentle kiss. It almost made you forget about the slight sadness you had felt when Azul asked you to delete your blog. Instead his next words between nibbling on your skin, made you stunned and worried.

“Instead I should make a blog full of pictures of you, my angelfish, to return the favour”

“W-wait!”

“But could you perhaps continue with your whole “Oh Azul, your radiant beauty is an art” discourse. I would love to hear more”

BONUS:

“How did I not find out about this earlier? I’m literally tagged in every picture”

“I blocked you”

“YoU wHaT”

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

The Nie brothers time travel but something goes wrong and they end up in each other bodies. So now they have to defeat WRH, find a way to curb JGY worst tendencies, and hide (and undo) the switch before any cultivator decides they are possesed by evil spirits

“I can’t do this,” Nie Huaisang announced heavily. “I can’t. Nope. Cannot. No way.”

“You apparently found a way to time travel into the past,” his brother pointed out. He was taking this entire thing very calmly – or, rather, like he’d heard a really great joke. It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang had forgotten that his brother had a sense of humor hidden under the rage, especially in the earlier years before Jin Guangyao got at him, but he may have downplayed his memories of how annoying it was to be the target of it. “Your abilities are clearly well beyond what you’ve been leading me to believe.”

“I’m sneaky,” Nie Huaisang explained. “I can scheme and plot and play politics, sometimes, if I have to. But I cannot be a general!”

I cannot be you, he meant. He might currently be inhabiting his long-dead brother’s body – an unfortunate side effect of messing up the time travel array, he suspected, but then again experimental things were often imperfect – while his brother’s spirit had been cast out into his own former self, but he wasn’t his brother.

He could never be.

(But Nie Mingjue was alive, alive and well with bright eyes and that stupid smirk that didn’t fit right on Nie Huaisang’s smaller face except in the ways it sort of did, and that was all Nie Huaisang had ever wanted in his life, other than Jin Guangyao to pay in blood and shame for depriving him of it.)

“Why not?” his brother asked. He leaned back and stretched lazily. Nie Mingjue never did a lazy thing in his whole life, so it was deliberate. He was enjoying this. “We have a battle strategy, already decided; most of the rest of it is on-the-ground tactics, which can be done just as well from behind the lines as at the front of them. There’s a reason that no one ever settled on the best place for a war-leader to be – it comes down to temperament.”

Nie Huaisang threw his hands into the air. “I know that! I was sect leader for nearly two decades, da-ge; I assure you, I’ve heard all the sect’s philosophical musings by now. But I don’t have your temperament – there’s no way someone won’t figure out what’s happened, that we’ve switched, and that’ll be a disaster.”

“Two decades,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully, focusing on the entirely wrong part of the conversation.

“A decade and a half to avenge your untimely murder,” that got a flinch out of his brother and his focus back, just as Nie Huaisang had wanted, “and another five to find a way to come back and avert it entirely.”

Nie Huaisang had always been resourceful. Resourceful, and ruthless – sometimes to a degree that scared even him.

When he was younger, it was okay. After all, the only thing he used it for was sneaking treats and spoiling himself, and it didn’t really matter if he was ruthless about stuff like that. And then his brother died – was murdered – and suddenly he knew what it was like to be his brother: a young man suddenly shoved into the role of sect leader, and having to balance everything he now had to be against the overwhelming blistering hatred he bore for and the crippling weight of the vengeance he had sworn against a man who had taken away someone he loved forever for something as pointless and ephemeral as political advantage.

(He had to take a deep breath at the mere thought of it, the family rage spiking under his skin. It was a bit of a surprise, actually, to find that his brother didn’t have more of it - he’d always assumed that his rage was lesser, weaker, the way his golden core was, but no. It turned out their rage was just the same.)

“So what you’re saying,” his brother said, and he was smirking again, oh no, “is that you’re focused, efficient, and unyielding in pursuit of your goals, given the right motivation. That sounds like general material to me.”

“Not if the goal is to make sure no one knows what’s happened,” Nie Huaisang hissed. Had own face always looked so incredibly punchable? “Da-ge, it doesn’t matter what type of general I might be. What matters is that it’s not the same type of general you are – you’re always at the front line, leading the charge. I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” his brother said. “By the time you’re in the middle of a charge, you’re not really thinking tactics anymore. It’s all just fighting, and I know you know all the moves, no matter how much you bitch and moan about having to practice them.”

Nie Huaisang glared, crossing his arms over his chest – his brother’s arms, his brother’s chest, and this was still just too weird. He hadn’t even had time to properly weep and cry and hug his brother the way he’d expected to in the event the time travel array worked; they’d had to jump straight into explanations and strategizing because there was a pretty big battle happening in less than twenty-four hours and they needed to fix this first.

His brother rolled his eyes at him, and for the first time Nie Huaisang realized that his brother was going to have no problem at all pretending to be him – the acting problem here went only one way. “Just let Baxia handle the aggression part, okay? The rest is muscle memory, and I, at least, have done enough to build that in.”

“Letting the saber spirit in like that is dangerous, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang reminded him, eyes narrowed. His brother was also assuming that Baxia would agree to be wielded by anyone other than her beloved master, which was a stretch – she barely even agreed to be sharpened by someone else, resisting violently whenever someone tried.

Jin Guangyao had died still bearing the scars from his attempt.

“Well, apparently I get murdered before it becomes an issue, so why worry?” his brother cackled, and Nie Huaisang glared harder. It had no impact whatsoever: Nie Mingjue stood up and stretched again. “You know what, Huaisang, if you’re feeling the need to sit around and pity yourself, you’ve got at least a few incense sticks’ worth of time to do it in before actually doing something becomes necessary – I, on the other hand, am going to do something productive with my time.”

“Like what?”

His brother grinned at him with teeth. “Saber training. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Nie Huaisang picked up a teacup and hurtled it at his beloved big brother’s head. Naturally, Nie Mingjue dodged, effortlessly, and left laughing.

“At least pretend like you’re going to behave!” Nie Huaisang bellowed after him, but his brother just waved at him, and – ugh. This was vengeance for a lifetime of laziness, wasn’t it? Coming to bite him in the ass.

After a few minutes, Nie Huaisang picked up another teacup – they always had dozens of them in the Nie sect, cheaply made in bulk and specifically designed to shatter easily because of the family tendency to throw stuff around and not calm down until something was broken, and better a cheap teacup than an expensive door or table, better something designed not to hurt anyone who happened to get in the way or didn’t know how to duck faster enough – and threw it against the door again.

It shattered beautifully. NIe Huaisang had only rarely been able to get it to do that, and never so effortlessly – the advantage of his brother’s strength.

Strength, and height. Nie Huaisang was tall now.

Okay, self-pity could wait until later. Nie Huaisang was going to go patrol the camp for a little bit and enjoy looking down at all the people.

It was going to be great.

It was, too. Even talking with people wasn’t as difficult as he thought it was going to be. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised at that; he had been sect leader for years, so he was accustomed to answering questions and making on-the-fly rearrangements and responding to things with leading questions that made the other person come up with the solution on their own, not to mention saying encouraging things that made people feel better about things.

He’d had to do a lot of that, being the Head-shaker, and even more afterwards, when he’d shed his disguise like a cicada shedding its skin.

It was easier now than it had ever been before, of course. The Nie sect was still strong, under his brother’s leadership; his disciples didn’t have that discouraged look lurking in the back of their eyes, the shame of being led by the disgraceful Head-shaker. It was easy to brighten someone’s day with a nod in their direction, disciples blooming like roses at the sight of their stern sect leader looking approving, and the questions he received were far more intellectually stimulating than the usual – less about making sure he knew what he was supposed to do and more actual puzzles, things that had really tripped people up.

Nie Huaisang tried at first to keep his answers short, tried to pretend to be more stoic and stand-offish the way the famous Chifeng-zun ought to be, except when he did everyone just smiled at him the way they always had when he’d been the Head-shaker – a little indulgent, a little pitying, a little “well he’s trying his best” – and after a while Nie Huaisang started remembering things he’d long ago forgotten.

Things like how his brother was actually kind of a mess sometimes, emotionally speaking – he was the sort of person who got weepy over dramatic literature – and how he’d never quite gotten the hang of people, how he valued his friends like gold and held grudges way too long and promoted people just because they seemed decent; how he sometimes spent his entire money pouch and more on buying Nie Huaisang stupid trinkets because it seemed to make him happy, even borrowing money from their escort, which would always be doubled over laughing at how their fearsome sect leader couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Like how Nie Huaisang’s sect was his family, aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters, whether born in or adopted or just part of the sect. The good type of family – not always the closest, not always your friends, not always even people you really liked, but still all predisposed to take your side in a fight if it came down to it.

These were the people who supported him and stood behind him – even when he was the Head-shaker.

He’d almost forgotten.

And so, despite himself, Nie Huaisang softened a bit. He stopped trying to respond to everything with a grunt or a huff, started asking about people’s families, making suggestions, telling them they’d done a good job.

“Glad you’re out of your mood,” Nie Yongbiao, who’d been quietly trailing him, finally commented, and Nie Huaisang blinked owlishly at him. “What kicked it off this time? You usually only get that closed-mouth after having to host guests.”

And that was true, wasn’t it? It had been such a long time, and after so much trauma, that Nie Huaisang had forgotten how his brother used to shut down whenever there was a discussion conference or an important meeting – how it took him longer and longer to get better on the other side as the qi deviation drew nearer, his meridians filling with Jin Guangyao’s spiritual poison. By the end, he had barely ever been open and free, barely seemed to remember how to drop his guard and relax, to act like a regular person with a sense of humor again, be the person Nie Huaisang knew his brother to be.

But that was then, and this was now - war had been good for Nie Mingjue, in a strange way. Here in the camps there was a lessened expectation of etiquette, a great appreciation of strength, and his brother was more free to be himself, straightforward and blunt as the off side of a saber.

(Nie Mingjue had tried so hard to be a good brother to Jin Guangyao, Nie Huaisang abruptly remembered, but he’d shut down after every visit, worse than ever before. His heart had known the truth, even if he had allowed himself to be convinced by Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang to keep giving Jin Guangyao second chance after second chance. He should never have listened to them.)

“Argument with Huaisang,” he said, a safe answer, and Nie Yongbiao nodded wisely.

“Can you say what it was about?” he asked, rather unexpectedly – Nie Yongbiao wasn’t exactly talkative, and no one ever pried about their family affairs. Catching Nie Huaisang’s surprised look, he shrugged. “He’s obviously very upset.”

“He is?”

“He’s at the training field,” Nie Yongbiao stressed, and Nie Huaisang had to choke down a hysterical laugh. Of course Nie Yongbiao would think that something must have gone horribly wrong to get “Nie Huaisang” to go willingly to train.

Nor was Nie Yongbiao the only one, for that matter: when Nie Huaisang arrived at the training field they’d set up in the middle of the camp, he saw an entire crowd of Nie sect disciples milling around at the edge of the field, bearing a suspicious resemblance to a flock of over-anxious quail.

He reached up to his face, pretending to want to pinch the bridge of his nose but actually to smother a smile, and luckily he had regained control of his features by the time he reached the edge of the small sea of disciples because they immediately all turned to him with relieved expressions, their cries of “Sect Leader! Sect Leader!” ringing in his ears like the coos of his pet birds.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, and immediately received the full story: Nie Huaisang had come to the field looking upset – one person insisted there had been tears in his eyes – and had set himself up against a practice dummy, and he hadn’t stopped whacking at it ever since.

Clearly, the world was ending.

“We had an argument earlier,” Nie Huaisang admitted, and managed, barely, not to laugh at how they all looked at him with disapproving eyes. “I’ll talk with him.”

Approving nods all around, although they didn’t disperse.

“Sect Leader,” one of the older generation said, very hesitantly. “If it’s about – the clan matter – if there’s anything we can do to help –”

Nie Huaisang shook his head, feeling touched. When it really had been him, his brother had kept the specifics of it secret – the tombs, the inevitability, the deterioration he was so avidly trying to put off – until it was too late, and he’d had to learn about it the hard way; it was nice, though, that they apparently all worried so much on his behalf about it.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “But it’s a different issue.”

Namely, the issue was that the person doing the training wasn’t Nie Huaisang at all, he thought, but when the crowd finally started breaking apart, people going back to their assigned tasks, and he finally managed to make his way to where his brother was, he was surprised to see that his brother really did appear to be upset.

He wasn’t practicing any of his normal training routines, but rather wielding Aituan in the same way a novice woodcutter would wield an axe: repetitive strikes, made wildly and with too much strength, as if hitting the practice dummy was the only thing that could vent his feelings.

“Uh, ‘Huaisang’?” Nie Huaisang asked, worrying his lip as he came closer. “Are you –”

His brother dropped Aituan to the ground – which, hey! Watch it, that was his saber! – and turned, and Nie Huaisang had only a moment to see his glassy eyes before his brother threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

Nie Huaisang automatically responded, wrapping his arms back around and holding Nie Mingjue close – it was nice, he thought, to finally have the reach he’d always felt he should have, big and tall and enveloping in its warm the way his brother had been for him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low enough not to carry. “Did something happen…?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, but his lips were pressed together to keep them from trembling. Nie Huaisang’s body had always been free with his emotions, much to his annoyance; he’d learned to cultivate it into a disguise, but he hadn’t really liked it. Tears had never been a relief for him the way they’d been for his brother. “No, it’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing,” Nie Huaisang said firmly, and carted him off back to his tent. Being as worried as he was, he did his best not to be too smug about finally being the one who was strong enough to pick his brother up, rather than the other way around – not that he needed to, what with his brother following docilely along with him – but there was, perhaps, a little bit of smugness. “Okay, we’re back, silencing talismans are back up because we apparently have the nosiest disciples. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, really…”

“Da-ge.”

“I left you alone,” his brother blurted out, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “For twenty years. Whatever I did, however I got murdered – some moment of carelessness – it doesn’t matter. I failed you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no–

“No,” he said out loud. “No, da-ge, you were tricked – it wasn’t – it wasn’t your fault.”

“I always said I would hold up the sky for you,” Nie Mingjue said bitterly. “And instead I left you with the same inheritance that I received. I never wanted that for you, Huaisang. Never.”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said helplessly. “Da-ge, you don’t understand. You were trying. You wanted – you were doing everything you could. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fail me. I was the one who failed you. I’ve always failed you –”

“Never!”

“I’m lazy, I’m selfish, I’m good-for-nothing, a head-shaker –”

“So what?” his brother said, glaring up at him. His eyes were red, but with tears, not qi deviation. “Even if it’s true, which it isn’t, because no head-shaker could have avenged me, could have found a way to come back, could have become the Nie sect leader and kept it for two decades, even if it’s true – so what? As long as you’re safe, I don’t care. As long as you have a way to defend yourself, and you so obviously must have, then nothing else matters. Nothing has ever mattered but your happiness.”

“And yours,” Nie Huaisang shot back. “You have the right to a life too, da-ge! You – you should have had my support. You should have been able to share your burdens, I should have helped you instead of anchored you down –”

“Huaisang –”

Nie Huaisang pulled him in tight again. “It’ll be different, this time,” he promised, his voice rough. “I’m older than you ever go the chance to be, da-ge. This time, I can help you with the things you’re not good at – I can do the politics, the people. We can bear the weight of the sect together.”

He felt a whisper in the back of his mind that was strange and yet familiar, approving. Baxia, he realized. Baxia, approving of him; Baxia, who would let him wield her, and he sensed her confidence that no one would get past her iron guard, together protecting his brother in both body and soul.

“All right,” his brother said. “Together. You and me – and the others.”

“Others?”

“After so many years, you must know who’s trustworthy,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. Already back to being practical, even if he was wiping his eyes. “If we tell those people, they can help us keep up the impression that I’m you and you’re me for as long as we need it.”

Nie Huaisang was nodding along, because that made sense, only then his brother said the last part and it was like a sunrise had opened up in his head, the way terrible and wonderful ideas always did.

“Da-ge,” he said, tasting the words in his mouth. “Da-ge, how do you like my body?”

His brother blinked up at him. “It’s fine, I guess? You’re actually in pretty decent shape, better than I thought, and your cultivation is – well, you could do a bit more with that, honestly, but it’s not uncomfortable or anything. Why?”

Nie Huaisang smiled. He’d always been remarkably resistant to their family’s cultivation curse, and not only, as he’d pretended to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji all those years ago, because he didn’t practice - it was his temper, or lack thereof, that softened the saber spirit’s effects on him.

Even if his body’s cultivation increased, he was far enough behind the curve, with his mediocre talent, that it would take decades for him to reach the level that it would be dangerous to him, while his brother’s prodigious talent, coupled with his inheritance of the family temper, made him even more likely to succumb – it was that prediction which had worried him so much that he had sought out treatment even before it had become a serious problem, the same worries that had driven him into Jin Guangyao’s trap.

What do you think? he asked the brand-new whisper in his mind. Aituan would probably bitch and moan about having to actually do things, but he’d secretly enjoy getting a bit more evil-killing in; the question was Baxia. What would she think?

A purr of agreement.

“I was just thinking,” Nie Huaisang said. “Chronologically speaking, I’m older than you are. I ran the sect for years – it might be hard to let go of that habit. How about we just…stay as we are, for now?”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “Baxia –”

“I’ll use her in public, and Aituan in private,” Nie Huaisang interrupted. He’d known that would be his brother’s first concern. “And you’ll do the opposite. And when we’re settled enough, we’ll come up with some excuse to switch.”

His brother hesitated. “But…you don’t like doing things. Responsibility. That sort of thing.”

“I got over it,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “Trust me, I have a whole system – I’ll implement it once the Sunshot Campaign is done; you’ll be amazed at how much easier it makes things, and then all the things that are left over are the stuff I actually enjoy. And this way, you could…I…”

He swallowed, and put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. He didn’t want to manipulate his brother into something like this – he didn’t want to manipulate his brother at all. His brother deserved the truth and honesty he had always freely given the world, and so Nie Huaisang could only offer up the unvarnished truth.

“I want to do this for you, da-ge,” he said. “I want you to have the life you should have had. I want you to have hobbies again, to make friends, real friends that will put you first. I want you to have fun with them without thinking of how people might think about it…please, da-ge. I came back here to keep you alive, but I want more than that. I want to see you live.”

“Okay,” his brother said, and he was choking back tears again. “We’ll – we’ll discuss it later, but I’ll think about it. Okay.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now catch me up on the tactics we’re planning on using in tomorrow’s battle, and I’ll let you know everything I know about what happens in the future…oh, and one more thing.”

“Oh?”

Nie Huaisang’s hand dropped to the table, parallel to Baxia; he could hear her purr in his mind whistling like the rumble of thunder. He smiled.

“Can you tell me where Meng Yao is?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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limeshcs · 3 years

Text

Albedo Kissing Hcs

warnings: sfw, fluff

-Kisses like everything, are to some extent an experiment to albedo

-A little disappointed when he tried to research this topic and found only romance novels to be his only source. Which is fiction of course, and he considers fiction to be mainly unreliable

-This largely stresses albedo out, a topic he can’t research by observing out in the wilderness or on Dragonspine, not even in a mere book

-He sure as hell isn’t going to ask the public how/what/when/where questions about kissing

-You find a large amount of pages written of his Q&A about this topic, which isn’t abnormal for albedo. But it’s cute none the less

-Though to Albedo’s surprise, you tell him that while he’s largely inexperienced, he’s quite the natural. This eases him greatly

-Always kisses you differently and inquires you about it after, doesn’t find it embarrassing or shameful at all

“Hmm.. was there any reason you blushed more this time, than the previous time? —Why are you getting flustered all of the sudden now? We parted moments ago.. late reaction perhaps?“

-Sorry but he kisses with his eyes open more than you’d like. How can he observe your reaction if his eyes are closed?

-Then without even realizing it at some point stopped being an experiment, and was just something he liked doing

-Warm and comforting, your kisses are the exact opposite of Dragonspine

-Albedo still can’t describe in words what kisses are and what purpose they serve, but he figures it something that only humans have an understanding of. Which bothers him of course, but he’s accepted it. However he has come to understand it, unbeknownst to him.

-Albedo is always busy and sleep deprived no doubt. He practically melts when you peck him after sneaking over to him quietly. Knocking him out of his half-asleep state slightly, telling him to go to sleep. He wants to argue with you he only needs a few more hours, but your fingers intertwining themselves with his and that soft look in your eyes.. seriously, how can he argue?

-Morning kisses are his favorite. He could sleep all day if he let himself, he hasn’t had a full nights of rest since who knows when. But he wakes himself up purposefully early to watch your sleeping face. He’s always busy and away at the lab, but at this time there’s complete silence nothing to rob him of such a sight. Ingrains your appearance into his mind, and quietly removes his sketchbook from underneath his pillow he placed there for just this moment. Sketching every angle of you before you awake.

-Waiting but a mere few seconds after you awake to kiss you. Somehow even finds your morning breath note worthy. Half-lidded eyes, your soft morning voice, messy hair, never a more enticing time to kiss you in Albedo‘s eyes

-Albedo’s less concerned where his hands are being placed when he kisses you, and more concerned with your hand placement. He has a set reaction in his mind he wants to provoke before kissing you.

-Stares at you blankly if your reaction wasn’t what he was wanting, so he’ll lean in and do it again, and again, and so forth until he gets the right one

-His favorites are when you grasp the bottom of his shirt, or the back of his coat. Or gasp into the kiss when he kisses you unexpectedly. Most adores when he feels you smiling.

-Dislikes you sqirming, doesn’t understand it and takes it as you thought it was unpleasureable. Doesn’t like the feeling of lipstick on your lips, it covers their natural texture. Though he doesn’t mind flavored lipglosses. Surprises him at first when he tastes the flavor, but can’t quite tell how he feels about it. Leaves you decide on whether or not you want to apply it.

-Traces your lips with his fingers before and after he kisses you. Almost as a way of letting you know it’s coming, and just because he adores doing it. Traces them afterwards with such fondness knowing he’s the only one to experience their touch. That they’re “his” and “his” alone.

-Will kiss you other places than your lips, but he’s not as fond of it. Initiates this act to note your reaction. Kisses your knuckles because he saw a prince in one of Klee’s books do it to a princess. Patiently awaits your response, and if it’s positive he’ll note it and do it more often.

-Kisses your cheeks as he’s seen my couples do it in public, kisses your forehead because you’ve done it to him, and kisses your neck thanks to Miss Lisa’s kind suggestion! Of course Kaeya‘s tried to give Albedo advice, but he’d rather die than trust any of the Calvary Captain‘s ideas.

-Likes being on the receiving end of your kisses as well. But let’s be honest he’s noted every detail he knows about you. Understands your thought process and interests. So he knows when youre most likely going to make your move. His attention is only peaked when your usual timing is off. A key detail that you’re upset with him. Something he’ll rarely pick up on unless you straight out say that you‘re ticked off.

-Of course public affection is not his thing. If he had it his way people wouldn’t even know you’re dating. But albedo makes it so obvious when you’re around. Asks the female members of the Knights of Favious strange open ended questions that they don’t know how to answer. Everyone easily pieces it together and the secret is out.

-So of course he’d rather go shirtless in Dragonspine then give you affection publicly. But he dreams of what your expression would look like.. Curiosity kills the cat you know. He’ll finally break, he just has to know if his hypothesis is correct. Kisses you like it’s his last chance, because well, it is in-fact the only time he’ll be doing this. Hums afterwards if he was correct, and swiftly returns to his office not making eye contact with a single person on the way. All while you’re left completely shocked, mouth gaping open like a dead fish.

#Albedo #albedoxreader #albedokissinghcs #Albedohcs #genshinimpact #genshinalbedo #genshinxreader #genshinhcs #albedoxfem!reader

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vickyvicarious · 3 years

Note

Ship asks: Eliot Spencer/Ennis the Goon (You had to know that one was coming, right? 😛 With *this* timing?)

PFF, OKAY.

Who buys flowers for the others: Ennis. What can I say, he's a romantic at heart! He also thinks it's very cute when Eliot gets flustered. And the way he reacted the first time: "What... what am I supposed to do with these?" didn't read as embarrassment but genuine confusion to him, such is his faith in Eliot's lack of brain. So that was a patronizing fun conversation.

Who makes the others coffee/tea: Ennis insists on making the tea, because he has no trust in Eliot's ability to prepare it well. The first time Eliot absentmindedly brews him a mug of tea and actually does it well, it shocks Ennis to the core. Eliot, flustered, says he wanted to sur...prise him? Ennis finds this very romantic. (Eliot makes the coffee, though. They both expect that.)

Who eats the most candy on Halloween: Neither of them eats much candy, but Ennis is actually stricter about his diet than Eliot... with less actual understanding of food. So he diets and exercises and sure, he stays in shape, but he is also needlessly depriving himself of delicious food because he thinks it's incontrovertibly bad for him. Eliot is put in the startling position of eating more candy out of the two of them.

Who tries new recipes all the time: Eliot, of course! Along with restricting his diet for misguided healthiness notions, Ennis also cannot handle any level of spice. He likes his food simple and familiar and for the most part, fairly bland. He makes exceptions for 'high class dining' which is often just expensive food that he still tries to get without a lot of spice or whatever. This appalls Eliot to the point that he leverages being romantic just to get some actual decent food in this man's mouth.

Who genuinely likes pineapple on pizza: Eliot. Again, same deal. Ennis doesn't even especially like pizza, but when he does get it, he likes white vegetarian pizza. Sometimes, Eliot thinks it would have been so much easier if he'd just murdered him on sight.

Who wears hats on special occasions: Ennis has a bowler hat left over from a fancy dress party a few years ago. Eliot is secretly tickled pink at the sight of him in it, and tries to convince him to wear it, saying he looks like a "right pro'er gangster" in it. Ennis rarely humors Eliot. (Eliot is also thinking of how to get Ennis in one of those Buckingham palace guard hats, without putting himself in the position of having to wear one too.)

Who likes ‘90s R&B: Neither of them, really. They actually have pretty similar tastes in music, though Ennis does have a fond spot for a couple of mopey British bands like the Cure, which Eliot has no patience for.

Who likes long walks on the beach: They both do. Well, Eliot is on high alert anytime he and Ennis are anywhere near a body of water, but aside from that. A long walk on the beach was the first time he actually felt reluctantly fond of the guy, in fact.

Who buys wacky picture frames: Parker! Ennis keeps pictures, and she breaks in to change out the frames. She has never met Ennis face to face and he has been growing concerned about a ghost despite himself, since he can never find any signs of a break-in and no matter what kind of cameras he puts up it he can't see anything that looks human. In fact, he's been hearing weird static on his radio sometimes in the dead of night, and he thinks it's possibly the soul of someone he's killed in his line of work????? (he has not told Eliot this.)

Who compares themselves to fictional/celebrity couples: Eliot, in prime dumb American rube, has done so a few times. It seems to be one of the few dumb things he does that legit seems to annoy Ennis, so he's actually done some research on famous British couples that he can ruin for the guy.

Who can solve a rubix cube: Eliot. Ennis sees him do it once and is impressed at the flashes of intelligence found even in the stupidest of people. He doesn't say this of course, but Eliot can tell. Eliot can tell and it drives him mad (especially since there's a trick to it, you don't actually even have to be smart, dammit!).

Who would wear Hawaiian shirts on vacation/during the summer: Eliot. Eliot, for sure. Once again, Ennis seems to find his lack of fashion sense somehow charming. Eliot is impressed despite himself at how this guy has very little sense of shame. He just amusedly indulges idiocy and doesn't get embarrassed. Eliot usually loves being a troll and playing dumb, but his limit is hit before Ennis's every time.

Who wears mismatched socks because they can’t keep up with the pairs: Ennis's socks are all pretty similar to one another, so he sometimes mixes them up without noticing. This irritates Eliot but he also knows that if he brings it up Ennis is going to think he's being all cute and domestic, so he is struggling very hard to resist the urge to comment.

Send me a ship and I will answer with who does what!

#leverage #eliot/ennis #heheheheheh #onyxbird #replies #inbox games #parker and hardison waging psychological war on him for their own amusement crept in out of nowhere but y'know what. i like it.

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fellulahh · 4 years

Text

The Point of No Return - Part 2/???, Diavolo x MC x Lucifer

Diavolo on the other hand was intrigued by the curiosity that crossed his mind over the human. He didn’t have a clue about the two pianos.

In fact, he didn’t know if the one in the palace was more superior at all.

Sitting once again in front of the piano, MC found herself staring at the keys; excitement filling her body. Ever since leaving the palace the previous night, all she could think of were various pieces she could practice.

Well, that’s not actually true. While she did daydream about the instrument a lot, her mind was also distracted by Lucifer.

When the pair returned back to the House of Lamentation, MC had followed him to his study while the other brothers went to their rooms. She’d noticed how quiet he had been on their journey home and wanted to find out why.

Lucifer hadn’t even realised that MC followed him back to his study. He only noticed he wasn’t alone when he didn’t hear his door shut behind him like usual.

Having observed the silence, Lucifer turned around and was startled to see the human stood in the doorway.

“MC.” He breathed, “you’re following me?”

“Yes.” She answered, stepping forward, “I wanted to speak with you.”

“You’re speaking.” He stated simply, walking toward his desk before taking a seat, “I hope it’s quick - I have lot of paperwork to get through.”

Although it wasn’t out of his character to be dismissive, MC could still sense something deeper to his cold behaviour. Copying his movements and stepping closer to his desk, MC tilted her head.

“I only wanted to see if you’re okay.” She spoke softly, “You’ve seemed quiet ever since dinner.”

“I am merely just tired, MC.” Lucifer palmed her off, his eyes studying the various papers that were in front of him, “I don’t wish for you to be concerned about me - it’s a waste of time.”

“Lord Diavolo said you spoke very kindly of me tonight.” MC changed the subject, not taking her eyes off Lucifer despite him not return the gaze.

She noticed him grow stiff.

“That I did.” He sighed before sitting back. His face softened as he finally met eyes with MC. “You know I love to watch you play.”

“I do.” MC smiled warmly, “You’re the one who encouraged me to do so.”

The smallest of smiles made its wait onto Lucifer’s face but it soon disappeared again as he resumed his previous position; hunched over his desk.

“Yes well...” he mumbled, “It’d be stupid of me not to.”

Scribbling various notes with his fountain pen, Lucifer’s eyebrows knitted as MC remained in front of him. The silence between the two of them was strong; tension vastly growing.

Lucifer could feel the human’s stare on him and he wanted nothing more than for MC to just leave him in peace.

The proud brother had a growing annoyance deep in the pit of his mind that he hadn’t been able to shift since Diavolo took MC away earlier that night. Was it jealousy that he felt?

No, it couldn’t be.

As much as Lucifer told himself it wasn’t jealousy, he couldn’t explain the glare he gave Diavolo that night when he re-entered the room with MC close by. He recognised the smile that the Prince had on his lips. It was the same smile Lucifer had when he first witnessed MC and her musical gift.

Late one evening in one of the classrooms at RAD, Lucifer found himself gripping fists of his hair as he stared at the mountains of work in front of him. Despite arriving earlier than usual that day to plough through his tons of paperwork, it hadn’t seem to have shifted all day. And with the clock ticking, the time getting later and later, the demon found himself growing more and more frustrated.

Taking a deep sigh, he sat back in his chair and reached for his coffee mug. He was startled at how effortless it was to pick it up before quickly realising why; it was empty.

Defeated, his eyes studied the dark, brown ring that circled the bottom of his mug. He’d lost count of how many coffees he’d had that day. Quickly glancing at his watch with his tired eyes, he let out another deep breath.

“One more.” He seethed to himself, pushing himself away from the desk so that he could stand.

Leaving the classroom, Lucifer began descending through the labyrinth of corridors toward the tearoom where he’d make himself another brew.

The building was practically deserted with everyone having gone home. It wasn’t unusual for Lucifer to be the only demon left most nights so he was used to how eerily quiet it was. The only sound that could be heard was the click of his heels against the vinyl floor.

However, on this night, as he entered the millennium wing of RAD, he slowed his steps the moment he walked through the door.

It was no longer silent.

Lucifer was completely startled after realising was he could hear was...music?

‘Who on earth is here so late?’ He questioned to himself before diverting his route rather than continuing to the tearoom.

Marching down the corridor, he followed the noise; adamant on finding out who else was roaming the halls so late at night. He poked his head through every door; his eyes quickly scanning the rooms as he drew closer.

But then he soon became even more curious as he realised what room he was nearing.

For many years RAD had a room that was never used. Why was it never used? Because there was no reason to utilise it! Education in Devildom is strictly about hexes, demon anatomy and other demonic subjects. There was never time for the arts. And that’s exactly why nobody ever used the room abandoned with various instruments; because nobody had the time or care to ever play one.

That is until the human exchange student came along.

Lucifer’s curiosity turned to concern as he wondered who could be in the room. But then, as he stood in the doorway, his heart suddenly thudded in his chest as the very last person he expected to see was sat inside.

“MC...” he whispered to himself.

Not even noticing Lucifer stood nearby, MC’s body swayed as she recalled one of the classical pieces she’d learnt in the human realm; effortlessly playing every single note.

Lucifer had never heard anything like it. In complete awe, he forgot about the work he’d left on his desk and the coffee he’d planned to make. Instead of turning back and returning to his original plans, Lucifer stepped into the room.

His crimson eyes studied MC carefully; noticing the way her eyebrows furrowed and her tongue poked out between her lips as she concentrated.

Noticing something move in the corner of her eyes, MC quickly glanced up and froze when she saw Lucifer. Her body jolted the moment she saw him; startled by his company.

“Christ, Lucifer!” MC breathed when she recognised him, “are you trying to scare the life out of me?”

“Why did you never tell me you could play the piano?” He asked, completely ignoring her previous comment.

“Well this is actually the first time I’ve played in a few years.” MC answered, narrowing her eyes at Lucifer as she was bewildered by his expression. “I got lost trying to find my lecturer’s office today and ended up finding this room instead.”

“Why have you not played in a few years?” He questioned further.

“I don’t know.” MC answered truthfully, “I suppose with working and everything else that comes with growing up, I never found the time to play like I used to as a child.”

Lucifer’s face softened as he blinked. “Mm.” He mumbled with a slight nod of the head. “That’s a shame. Your playing is rather enchanting.”

MC smiled at Lucifer’s unexpected compliment. “Enchanting?” She questioned.

“Yes, enchanting.” He repeated, “I haven’t heard music like that since I was in the celestial realm.”

Just being in MC’s company made Lucifer’s mind ease. Despite the piles of paperwork he still had, he found himself relaxing.

MC found herself blushing as her curious eyes remained of Lucifer. She could read the trouble in his expression.

Suddenly Lucifer became sheepish; not a rare occurrence but certainly an uncommon one.

“Could I perhaps ask something of you?” He questioned.

“What’s that?” MC asked curiously.

“May i bring my work here and listen to you play?” He requested, “it’d seem your melodies have made me think straight for the first time today and may be my only hope of getting through my paperwork.”

The human smiled at his request, to which he returned the gesture. Nobody had ever seem to admire her playing like he’d just expressed.

“Of course.” She beamed.

—

Unable to focus, Lucifer glanced up from his desk and met MC’s concerned eyes.

His expression grew soft as they joined gazes. But being the stubborn demon he is, he soon deprived himself from that little cry coming from his heart. Shutting off, his crimson eyes darkened and he looked down.

“I’m very busy, MC.” He informed her, as he began making more notes, “if there’s nothing else to discuss I must ask that you leave me be.”

MC wasn’t satisfied with their conversation. But nevertheless, she followed his word and turned around; making her way to the door.

Hearing the handle turn, Lucifer quickly glanced up once more; only for a mere second as he watched the human leave.

“My angel of music...” he breathed.

—

Find Part 1 here!

A/N: so now we have some more Luci context! What are your thoughts?

#obey me #obey me shall we date

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laurore-stormwitch · 4 years

Text

Here is 2219 words of plotless angst and yearning and emotional pain because I’m freaking out over row coming out in eleven days and I’m terrified. I used the quote which came out the other day “Sweet words and grand declarations were for other people, other lives.” Shoutout to the amazing @claudiarya and @not-just-human for the support.

for other people, for other lives - ao3

Sweet words and grand declarations were for other people, other lives.

Not for the one she was living now. Not for her, certainly. Those words were only meant to wither in her memories, now. This life had been a succession of wrong choices when it came to men she found herself to believe in. An absent and unaffectionate father, a manipulator and mass murderer. And now, of all the men she could let herself feel for, she chose the damn king of Ravka. Zoya did not regret believing in Nikolai, fighting for him, trusting him. He had never let her down. But caring like this for him? The epitome of bad choices. She felt the urge to rip her thrumming heart out of her chest. Her hands went to press on her temples: even the muffled sounds coming from the ballroom were unnerving her. The hope for fresh air drove her to the balcony, along with a pressing need for quiet and solitude. She was sick of everything that was going on; the party, the music, the false and hollow laughter of ambassadors and dignitaries throwing themselves at the king’s feet like their country was not on a brink of destruction. Nikolai’s charm sticking like sap on the people, a pretence of confidence and normality, with his hand on Ehri’s arm while his look stayed trained on Zoya’s sapphire eyes. It was all way too much to handle on a clear and sober mind. The voices increased as the door opened, to be swallowed again when she heard the lock. The steps that echoed on the marble floor could only be of one person who had enough of a suicidal strike to follow her when she had clearly wanted an escape.

“Get back inside, Nikolai.”

She exhaled without even bother to look back at him. Nikolai chuckled and came to stop at her side.

“You’re really attentive.”

“You’re really not subtle. I ought to teach you how to properly sneak up on people.”

He shrugged, letting her have the last line, and dangled a glass filled with a liquid the colour of amber. As close as they were standing now, their shoulders brushing, she could feel his scent meddled with a spiking note of alcohol. Nikolai was not one to indulge in drunkenness in such a delicate night, but it still had to appear like a party, and he clearly looked like someone who had needed a couple of drinks to survive the evening. She could not blame him, as a matter of fact. Still, his ruffled state only added to the treachery of being together like this. Last time they were alone, it did not exactly go down well, a moment that haunted her every waking hour since it happened.

“Weren’t you having fun inside?”

“Not particularly. It was tedious and sickening. “

“Why, my dear general, I even saw you dance with a handsome sergeant.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, scowling at him. He was grinning, but he had an edge to his voice only Zoya could sense. Do you really believe it means anything, she wanted to ask? It was true, the boy was handsome, and at any other moment she wouldn’t have thought twice on getting herself some hard-earned distraction. She had felt Nikolai’s eyes studying her the whole time, as the soldier’s hand slipped on her lower back and he spun her around. Zoya knew it was not about jealousy, or rather not the kind of possessive sentiment people would assume of. She knew because she felt it too with Ehri; what bothered her was not the affection they could share, but the way they could be together in public, how easy it was for them. The absence of barriers, propriety, and obstacles. Everything her and Nikolai could not afford to have, that simplicity. Everything he must have envied too about that common man holding Zoya’s waist.

“Genya asked me to pretend I don’t loath everything about this. But believe me, I do.”

It was as close to a reassurance she could manage to give him, without betraying herself too much. The king lifted the glass towards her in an offering gesture.

“I’m on duty.” The raven-haired general glared at his smug expression. “You know, trying to avoid people running a blade through your chest.”

Nikolai shrugged his shoulders, downing with little ceremony the content she had refused.

“I’m starting to think that being alive may be thoroughly over-rated.”

“What exactly is over-rated about a king’s existence?”

“It comes with heavy responsibilities and too many boring dinners.” His eyes looked like they were taking her vision in, intensely scanning her features. They lingered a moment too much on her lips, before darting back up to lock on her blue glowing irises. “And it forces me to give up on a lot of things I’d like to be free to pursue.”

She shifted, uneasy, a shiver running through her spine. The wind rose slightly at her nervousness and tugged at the hem of her silk embroidered kefta, lifting it off the ground. Zoya smoothed it, grateful for the decision of keeping her uniform tonight. It made her feel a bit more like herself, a bit more in control. The frustration and anger building inside her put venom in her voice, though the exhaustion and defeat creeping through were clear enough to catch.

“What are you doing here? And cut to the chase, please.”

“I saw you leave. You looked – “ He stopped, exhaling a long breath. “Weary. Upset. I wanted to check on you.”

Without yielding away from her eyes, he took a tentative step toward her; the ghost of their almost kiss, or rather barely avoided disaster, flooded the back of her mind, along with the ushered and frantic words he had spoken to her. She clenched her jaw, tension running through her veins like a fire scorching a barren ground.

“We’re facing battle on countless fronts and still wasting time on worthless charades like this” She gestured to the closed doors and the lights beyond them, the whirl of dresses and laughter. “Of course I’m weary and upset.”

“Nothing else?” Was he really coming back to this? To being hopeful and stubborn?

“No, Nikolai. Doesn’t it seem enough to you? Besides that, I’m perfectly fine.” Clipped words and pretty lies. “I don’t need anyone to check on me.”

“What do you need, then?”

You. And it terrifies me in a way you cannot fathom. How quick was her mind to betray her. Take the dreadful truth and smash it into a proper deceit.

“I need a break, and to be left alone for some godforsaken time.”

He cocked his head to one side, considering her. One of his hand ran through his golden flocks, messing them up even more. Zoya had rarely seen him so deprived of his usual bright endeavour, so taken on by fatigue. He still managed to flash a smile in her direction, one that did not reach his eyes but died on the curve of his mouth.

“They were asking for you. They always are, the nobles, ambassadors, all of them. They want to gaze at the gorgeous squaller, the ruthless grisha who serves as the king’s right hand. They talk of you, and me, how the king has secured himself the most beautiful mistress in the palace.”

Nikolai was almost speaking to himself, his posture hardened, the despise he had for these people clear enough in his voice. Even though she couldn’t care less about the court’s hypocrisy and judgement and she had never asked Nikolai to defend her, he had always felt he needed to it somehow. Sarcasm tainted his speech, Zoya trying to assess where he was heading with this.

“They dare ask me sometime, even. How is it that I conquered you, assuming that I did, like you are some kind of prize to be taken. I told them you are nobody’s property. That you’re a general and they should hold you to that position without insulting you with their petty gossips.”

Her vindictive heart wanted to punish him for making her legs buckle with wanting, for making her heart race up in front of the rumbling rage he had for the people who did not respect her enough. He released his clenched posture, straightening. His eyes caught back their focus on her, turning soft and growing dark with desire.

“What I didn’t tell them tough, is that while it’s not true that I have you, you do hold the king’s heart in your dangerous hands.”

Zoya stilled. The hate she felt grew inside her like a tide. Hate for how much she wanted him, for how simple it was for him to speak these truths she was refusing to accept and ignore the grave reality they were living in. How natural and right it looked, coming from his mouth. How hard he kept making for her to drive the knife in him, again and again. Zoya used that familiar emotion to fuel her resolve.

“You shouldn’t talk like this. We can’t afford it.”

“What if I don’t care? What if I can’t keep on pretending anymore, if I can’t do this anymore?”

What if? What if, in another life, she would have been brave enough to tell him?

Stay. Stay with me.

Take the truth and twist it. Again.

“You should go.”

“Zoya -”

Pure anguish coursed in her at the sound of him pleading her name. Zoya felt like she was already mourning him; he was a couple of feet from her and still miles away, a distant memory blurring away with time. Nikolai turned silent and lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing the line of her jaw, floating against her neck, trailing her arm, and coming to rest on her wrist. He circled it with his fingers, tightening his grip.

Hold me. Again.

“Let me go.”

She hissed, a cold resolve in her voice. An order. He glanced at her under his lashes, pondering himself for a second, then left the hold on her wrist, his look unreadable under the night sky. Zoya turned away from him.

“I can’t do this anymore either, Your Highness.”

To her shame, her voice came out cracked with unshed tears. Would she be able to cry again, some day? She could not remember the last time she fought back the urge and her eyes just went dry. She could feel the prickle now, the pain, but the water stayed still in the endless well she dug inside herself. They were sparring, Nikolai trying to win this round and drag her to acceptance, Zoya holding her fortress. Zoya kept her eyes trained on the midnight sky beyond Os Alta, but she felt felt him move behind her, his body barely an inch from hers, his hand grazing the kefta over her hips. Nikolai leaned towards her, tilting his head and hovering with his lips near the shell of her ear. His breathing was ragged, warm against her neck, sending tremors in her body. She shut her eyes, thinking of how easy it would be to let her back rest on him, to turn and catch his mouth and tangle her fingers in his hair, to let herself be redeemed by his affection.

“Where does your heart lie, Zoya?”

It lies in the thought of your lips on mine. The wrenching need I despise of losing myself in your arms. The buried desire of a life where I could find comfort and peace, the need to give a voice to whatever this warmth and searing longing I have inside is. How your hand feels in mine, how your touch sets my skin on fire. The light in your eyes when the sun catches them, the endless nights spilling away like seconds when I’m with you.

The words came with the fury of a thunderstorm and drowned in her throat, scraping it.

You need someone different. You need someone loving, full of light like you are. He would only have found heartbreak and misery in her, a kind of affection too stiff and cutting on the edges for a soul as bright as his. Zoya pulled herself away from his hold and turned to face him, the closeness almost intolerable; Nikolai’s eyes were on her, bursting with the same yearning and despair she could feel in herself. It was gutting to see her feelings mirrored in someone else. She trailed at his side, breaking their connection; her hand brushed on his lightly as she got past him, the touch so soft and swift it could almost look unintentional to an innocent bystander.

“Some truths are better off unspoken, Nikolai.”

Zoya whispered under her breath, taking another step to get back inside. Sweet words and grand declarations were meant for other people, for other lives. Zoya was a soldier, and that was the choice she made every morning, day after day, until it would not be a choice anymore and the course of her life was set. She could not help the things she dreamed of, but not even the things she was made of; she was meant for waging wars and havoc, and she would rest in the secured loneliness and gilded cage she had built for herself.

#im sorry but i cant deal with them #i love angst and emotional pain #yes im crazy like that #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #manifesting #grishaverse #fan fiction #my writing #nikolai duology #king of scars #rule of wolves #post kos #please let them be happy #im slightly terrified

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holdmyowos · 4 years

Text

Training (Aizawa/Shinso x Neko Female Reader Smut)

Includes: Age gap, neko, polyamory, predator-and-prey dynamics, bondage, use of word 'sensei', unprotected sex

A/N: The two of you are done with hero studies but Hitoshi still trains with Aizawa pretty frequently.

You had been with plenty of other guys, but Hitoshi was by far the best you had ever been with. He was so sweet and caring. Plus, he loved cats! Since your quirk let you transform into one, it was perfect. The only downside was that he was a virgin, and he refused to have sex with you. After a couple months into your relationship, he had decided that he was finally ready to take the next step. You had it all planned out. That special occasion would be nowhere near when you were on your period, so he could do as he pleased, and you would be totally ready for him. Often you had caught him looking at cat girls on his phone and touching himself, so you knew exactly what he liked. His favorite color was black, and his second favorite color was silvery grey, so you made sure to incorporate that into the design. Since he was a pro hero with a ton of money, he gave you all the money you wanted to make your costume. You were going for an e-girl type of vibe. You had a black choker with a small silver bell on it. You had long boots on with fishnet tights. You were wearing a short black skirt over your lacy grey panties that matched your lacy silver bra. You had your hair back in two loose buns, tied with silver ribbons. You topped it all off with a black crop top with a revealing boatneck. You put a deep red color of lipstick on. When you were done with your eyeshadow, you worked on making your eyeliner wings perfectly sharp, matching. Your tail and cat ears were out. When you looked in the mirror, even you were impressed. It was ridiculous, no doubt. If you walked into a store, everyone and their grandma would be staring. Any other day you would have laughed at how over-the-top it was, but today you looked sexy as hell. You put your hand on your butt and took a picture in the mirror. Today was going to be a day to remember for sure.

After spending half an hour getting ready, you called your boyfriend, sure he could hear the smile in your voice. "Hey baby, are you ready to come over?" You tried to put as much excitement in your voice as possible. He chuckled. "You better believe it. You want to prepare yourself before I get over there, so we can fully enjoy ourselves?" You shuddered at his implications. "I'm not so certain I catch your drift," you prompted him. You got the desired reaction. "Listen, kitty cat." You could hear the tightness in his voice, as if he wanted to fuck you then and there. "I want you to take that vibrator that I got you for you as a present, and shove it in that tight pussy of yours until it's leaking for me." He clicked the end call button, and a buzz went off in your ear as you turned the vibrator on a low setting.

Your plans were totally falling apart now. You soon became bored with playing with yourself, and angrily called your man. He would not answer. You texted, 'Where the hell are you?' Happily, almost immediately he started typing. 'I had to go train with Aizawa. Sorry. Just be patient, I'll get home around 8.'8? Freaking 8?! It was currently 5. You were not waiting that long for him. He had promised you, and you had been planning this for too long for him to just say 'later'. He had even taken the last couple days off of hero work just so that he had plenty of rest. He had recently looked really good, for once not totally sleep-deprived and running only on coffee and kisses. "Gotta make your first time special, 'toshi," you muttered to yourself as you slid in the car. If he was not coming to you, then you could come to him. He was not getting around this, even if you had to fuck him in front of his old teacher. That thought caught you off guard. In school, you had a slight crush on the young, handsome Shota Aizawa, but thinking of fucking your boyfriend in front of him was a bit strange.

When you were finally at the building, the gym that Hitoshi and Aizawa trained at, you shut the car off and turned off the lights. The gym was privately owned by just the two of them together, so they often came here to train during the day or whenever they had free time. Aizawa might seem modest, but he had a huge salary just like the rest of the pro heroes, so he could afford things like that. You walked up the stairs to the door, slowly opening it. You heard breathless sighs and grunts. It was pretty cute. They must be busy training. You slowly shut the door with nothing but a small click. A small brick wall about four feet tall separated them from your view. You glanced down to the area below the walking track that you were on, leaning over the edge to see. The two of them seemed engaged in a sparring match, both of them having discarded their shirts. You found yourself looking at Aizawa instead of your boyfriend. He just looked so sexy, his long hair rubbing against his large muscles. Reluctantly, you turned your gaze to Hitoshi, not unimpressed with what you saw there either. Hitoshi had abs? His workout sessions must have been paying off. The two stopped their match when Aizawa glanced up towards you apprehensively. You ducked under the wall before they could see you. The two talked in hushed voices. "Did you hear that sound? Is someone else here?" One of them said quietly, but your cat ears picked it up. Footsteps came up the stairs. Maybe you could have fun making them chase you.

You flicked your bell so it jingled, and ran in the opposite direction of the stairs, ducking so they could not see you over the wall. You skidded to a halt as Aizawa landed in front of you, his capture weapon having propelled him up from the ground. Sadly, his shirt was back on. You frowned. In a matter of seconds, he had you hanging from the ceiling, suspended upside-down, your head a foot away from the floor. You put your skirt up so it was covering your thighs again, and held them there with your hands. Being held upside down had made your skirt drop, and he probably saw your panties. "Hello, Aizawa-Sensei!" You said, enthusiastically. It had been awhile since you had seen him. Aizawa had gained a cute little scar on his cheekbone, right below his eye. He scoffed, loosening his white rope that he had tied around you, yet he still did not let you go. "Oh, it's just you, Y/N. What are you doing here, in my gym? I thought you were a villain, or something." He remembered your name! Yay! That must be hard, knowing the hundreds, perhaps even thousands of students he had to go through.

Your croptop flipped, revealing the underside of your breasts and your bra. You kept your hands on your skirt, however. You giggled at him. He noticed the motion of your croptop against the gravity, and eyed you up and down, as if only now realizing what you were wearing, he looked away from you. "And why the hell are you wearing something so slutty? A man with less self control could become a villain with just the lust of looking at you." He turned his back to you, running his fingers through his hair. Was he trying to hit on you? Did he think you were here for him? Your tail swayed gently at the thought, accidentally and lightly brushing against his neck. He shuddered at the touch, running your tail through his fingers. Rarely did anyone ever touch your tail, and usually it was intimately. You gripped your skirt tighter at the thought, not wanting him to see how wet your underwear was getting. Or did you want him to see?

Hitoshi came up behind you from the stairs, panting and out of breath, his shirt still off. You turned to see him, still dangling in midair. You were staring at his muscles that moved as he breathed and walked towards you. He sucked in a breath as he saw you. "Y/N, is that really you? You're stunning," he said, amazed by your looks. "Hitoshi, there was many better ways to get up here faster than running. You need to learn to use your rescources," Aizawa said, not looking you in the eyes, dropping you from his capture weapon and holding you bridal style in his arms before letting you go, waiting for your feet to gently touch the floor before he stopped supporting you. It was a really sweet gesture. You twined your tail around Aizawa's arm, then let him go.

The three of you just stood there in an awkward silence. Hitoshi came forward. "Sorry, sensei. This is my girlfriend, Y/N. I think you already know her." Aizawa simply nodded. "Well, are you sure she's your girlfriend?" He challenged. Your heart leapt at the words. "W-what do you mean? She even dressed really nicely for me. I... I was supposed to do something with her tonight, but I postponed it to train with you when you asked. That's probably why she's here." Aizawa backed you into the wall behind you. You gulped, face flushed. You loved and hated this feeling at the same time. What would Hitoshi think of you being aroused at this man's advances? He gently held your arms, pinning them above your head, and pressed his lips against your neck, trailing up to your face. His chest rubbed against your sensitive breasts. "What a pretty kitty," he said. You blushed, not smiling, at Hitoshi. "Hey, leave her alone! She doesn't want you!" All that Aizawa did was let out a low chuckle. "Of course she does. You've made her wait too long. I would never do such a thing. I'd... feed my kitty whenever she felt hungry." He growled the last part of his speech in your ear. Your heart skipped a few beats. "She likes you and doesn't want to offend you, I can tell by how she doesn't smile at me, but her blush and her cute little voice says something else all together." He took his hands and gently fondled your breasts under your shirt, and you let out a very slight whimpering sound, biting your lip to try to keep it from betraying your feelings. "Y/N, is this true?" Your boyfriend asked. You looked away from him in shame, making the mistake of meeting Aizawa's intense eyes. You did not need to say anything, since the deafening silence spoke volumes.

Surprisingly, Aizawa slowly released you from his hold. To say you were disappointed was putting it mildly. You practically whined at the loss, his warm hand's touch still lingering on your breasts. He smirked at Hitoshi. "However, since you brought her back to me, I will make you a deal. First one to find and capture her gets to control what happens next. Sound good to you, kitty cat?" You saw Aizawa slip him a pair of handcuffs. So that was how the game was going to be played. You nod. Seeing Hitoshi's uncertainty, you goaded him. "What, you're not scared of him, are you?" He fell for it, snapping at you. "I am not!" He turned to the older man, who obviously knew what he was talking about. "Fine, I'll accept your dumb terms, but with one condition. We both have to do what Y/N tells us to do." He stuck out his hand, and Aizawa immediately shook it. A thrill went up your spine, knowing that both of these men had fallen hard for you, willing to do anything just to be with you. Both of them turned to you.

Hitoshi flipped the lights off, so only you and your cat eyes could see well. "You better run, kitty. The chase is on," one of them said. You held the bell tightly in your hand, keeping it from jingling too loudly. You kicked off your boots so you could be more silent, moving around the track and down the stairs onto the training floor, making no noise other than the small muffled jingles. There was no way either of them could find you. You were in your element, the darkness was your friend. If there was one thing a cat was good at, it was quietly slinking around. You let go of your bell, and let it jingle once.

"Hey there kitty. I found you." Aizawa popped out of seemingly nowhere, forcing the handcuffs on your arms, pressing his knee gently into the small of your back, sending a small wave of pain over you. You knew he did not mean anything of it, that was simply the best way to do it. Still, you let out a tiny cry, a mewl of pain. "That was cute, kitty. Do it again." He pressed on you harder. Now he definitely meant it. "Sensei, please let go," you said desperately. He reluctantly got off of you and turned half of the lights back on, giving the place a different vibe. You looked up at his head as Hitoshi came towards you. He had on his yellow glasses, the ones that let him see in the dark. He had a giant grin on his face. "What did I say, Hitoshi? Think smarter, not harder. You need to learn to use your resources," he said, clicking your handcuffs off once Hitoshi saw that he had won. He sighed in defeat, realizing the power his teacher had over him.

"What's our safe word, kitty cat?" He all but hummed. You were turned on by how abrupt he was. "How about catnip," you suggest. "Great idea. Perfect for my little kitten," he said, piling up some of the training mats for a makeshift bed. "It was supposed to be 'toshi's first time. Please go easy on him, sensei," you admitted for your boyfriend. He only let out a sadistic chuckle, guiding the two of you to the mats. "Fine, then. Show me what you were going to do for him when he got home," he said. You were only too happy to oblige. "Well, first I was going to beat his ass for getting home so late, figuratively, of course," you said, glancing at Hitoshi. "Then I... well, I think it's best if I let the actions do the talking for me." Aizawa nodded.

You kissed Hitoshi fiercely, so happy that you would finally get to feel someone's skin on yours. You had been denied for too long. You straddled his body, and made the kisses deeper, practically eating his face, and he did it right back, desperate for you before Aizawa stole his fun. He shuddered, breathless, gasping for air from the kiss. You pulled away. Little smears of your lipstick were obvious on his face. You wiped it off of him with your thumb. Hitoshi had a face so red, you knew what had happened. You glanced down at his pants. "Hitoshi, did you already cum? I hardly even touched you!" He looked away in embarrassment. "Well, you just looked so pretty and everything happened so suddenly."

He tried covering his face, but you pulled down his pants and boxers. "You're doing this for me, aren't you? So you should have waited until I let you cum. I would have gladly let you do it inside of me," you whispered. You straightened his still hard dick, running your fingers up and down it's length, smearing his cum all over. He was average in length, but had a wide girth. You gave kitten licks to the tip and under the head, right where the bundle of nerves are. He smelled delicious. Slowly, you took him into your mouth. He held one of his hands in your hair, lightly pulling in it as you sucked him off. He used his other hand to gently pull on your collar.

Feeling a slight touch at your butt, you almost turned around, but you were too busy. You had all but forgotten about Aizawa with what you were doing to Hitoshi. He smoothly tugged your skirt off, and you crossed your legs. "Come on now, kitty. Why are you hiding from me?" Hitoshi pushed you down deeper onto him, almost having you gag. "Y/N your mouth feels so good wrapped around me," he said. Your heat warmed up with his words. You used your tongue against him, pushing it to the side of your mouth. Aizawa uncrossed your legs and tenderly pulled your leggings off, leaving you with only your panties on your lower half. He gently teased you with his fingers running along your folds. He slipped a finger under them, your juices gathering on his fingers. "Wet for me, my kitten? I could just stick myself into you without preparing you." You let out a moan in response, vibrating on Hitoshi. He gripped you harder. "Kitty..." he said, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure. You let out a cry as Aizawa penetrated your pussy, muffled because Hitoshi was balls deep in your mouth, but still audible. He had not even taken the time to remove your underwear, so you were unprepared. You adjusted as his length came down inside of you. After a couple months without sex, it felt so good to finally have something filling you up.

It seemed to go on forever. He was long. Once he was finally all in, or you guessed he was, he stopped moving, as if content to just be in you. You continued with Hitoshi as Aizawa's hands roamed your body, groping your ass and pulling and pinching on your curves. He pulled your bra up and fondled your breasts again, squeezing the nipples. You found yourself clenching around Aizawa and sucking in your breath for Hitoshi. "I'm close again, kitty," Hitoshi informed you, pulling out of your mouth. He backed away from you. You gasped for air, finally able to use your mouth to breathe. Behind you, Aizawa slowly thrusted up a few times, hitting the spot that made you claw the mat. "Sensei, please!" You clenched your fists around the material around you. "You like that kitten? You want me to fuck you better than Hitoshi can?" You nodded, unable to control yourself. He moved his hands away from your chest and to the floor so he had a better angle. "Hitoshi, the key to making a girl happy is giving her what she wants. If it's a little rough," he thrusted hard into you and you yelped, more in pleasure than pain, "...so be it." He started pounding you into the mat below "It's too much Aizawa!" You felt your walls squeezing around him as he continued his relenting attacks.

"You can take it, kitten, I know you can. Take it for me." He kept hitting that one spot that made your vision blur. Your boyfriend was in front of you. You wondered what Hitoshi was up to, but when he placed your hand on him you got to work, squeezing with Aizawa's thrusts. You moaned and squeezed Hitoshi, and he came into your hand. Still running your fingers against him, you felt a knot in your stomach. You had felt your own climax building up for a while now, and you saw white as you came hard onto Aizawa, and you felt yourself being filled up with his seed. When he was done, he pushed his fingers into you, pumping you a few times. Your juices leaked all over the mat, leaving a white stain. He got up to get some paper towels. You dizzily got to your feet, about to head to the bathroom to clean yourself up. He put a hand around your throat in a loose grip. A threat. "Where do you think you're going, kitty? You were supposed to be mine. I won't let you forget that when we get home," he promised. "Or maybe now. Do I need to teach you a lesson?" Your body ached at the thought of more, knowing that you would hurt for quite a long time after.

He spread your legs apart, and buried his tongue into you. You tugged on his hair as he did, lapping up the juices. "I think it was unfair that Hitoshi got to cum two times. I think you need to come back here sometime again so we can have a rematch," Aizawa said, fully clothed again as he came back and gathered in the scene. "Young people," he sighed dramatically, cleaning up the dribbles here and there. You were too busy feeling Hitoshi's tongue squeezing inside you to notice Aizawa gently brushing through your hair and tail fur with his brush. He wanted you as much as you had wanted him.

Slightly inspired by Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life by Corpse Husband

#Bnha #bnhaxreader #smut #anime #animexreader #anime x reader #bnha x reader #hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #aizawa #shota aizawa

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libradusk · 4 years

Text

Utterly Devoted | Kix

Word Count: 4,370

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x Reader

Summary: You and Kix demonstrate to each other just how deep your devotion lies

Warnings: Explicit smut, tender sex with lots of feeeeeelings because I’ve made this man suffer through the previous chapter, eating pussy as a thank you gift because why the fuck not is there really a better way to start your morning when you’re stuck in the middle of a shitty war, some soft pillow talk to top it all off.

a/n: This is a belated bday gift to @morganas-pendragons! Hope you enjoy the Kix pipe hehe

Its also a continuation from this chapter of my Touch Starved series, consider this the smutty sequel that touches on some of the events that happened the night before.

Tagging: @thatonesakudere, @kaminobiwan and @simping-for-fives (Send me a message if you wanna be tagged in any of my future fics!)

The first thing you notice when you awaken is how groggy you feel, it's as if there is a solid weight pressed against your body and mind, it fights with your half-delirious state of being in an attempt to drag you back down to slumber.

The second thing that dawns on you is that you are not dreaming and there is indeed a heavy weight slung over your chest, but his name is Kix, and he’s currently snoring into your shoulder with the rest of him draped around you like a loth-cat in a sunbeam. He’s also currently dominating the majority of the bed space, which was cramped to begin with, yet you can’t help but smile and relent into the warmth he offers with little more than a roll of your eyes that he won’t see.

It's just nice to see him so peaceful. You can’t confidently recall the last time you had seen him with anything less than a crease to his brow, and a sleep-deprived scowl poisoning his handsome face in the rare moments he allowed his composure to slip. This is nice, it's warm and safe and feels like home for you both despite the hell you had both endured barely a full 10 hours earlier. You’re determined to grasp onto this ribbon of tranquillity for as long as the galaxy permits you to.

The buckling pain that bites down your side when you twist too suddenly to get a better look at him is a painful reminder of that. You force it down in order to run a gentle touch over his cheekbone as he too begins to stir awake, as if the bond you have forged has demanded that he too be pulled from his slumber to meet the morning air alongside you. Two violet rings of exhaustion circle under his eyes as they flutter open to meet your own. Your fingers glide to brush against the one decorating his left socket on impulse. It takes a moment for him to swallow down his disorientation before his vision focuses completely. You note the spark of confusion that flashes across his expression before it dawns on him that no, this isn’t a dream and yes - you are settled in his arms in the same position you had been the previous night when he had curled into your chest until his tears had ceased soaking your shirt’s fabric.

There's a hint of shame that trickles into those tired eyes then and you smile openly in the hope that it will quash any guilt squirming in his gut before it forces him to voice it.

“Good morning, my love.” The sound of your voice is soft and still swaddled with drowsiness. It still manages to pull the corners of his own lips into a sleepy smile, and there's a twinkle in his honey-coloured gaze as his eyes open wider now. The sight of it settles oddly in your stomach, it's the first time he’s looked like himself in a while, the realisation of that fact hurts a little, but you try to focus on the happiness that bubbles alongside it instead.

You’re both alive and you’re together - you’re lucky in so many ways to be squashed into this tiny GAR-issued cot with the man you love. It’s a privilege so many others would kill for, and right now all you want to do is sink into him and forget all about your injury and the God-forsaken war that has caused it.

You lean forward to press a kiss against his forehead, right where the crease of his frown usually sits - thankfully, it's absent this morning, replaced by a honeyed mixture of amusement and adoration as his eyes drift over the sleepy bliss that dances upon your face.

“Good morning yourself.” He waits until you pull away to speak, words tumbling out in a deep purr. They catch in his throat before he clears it of any remaining evidence that indicates he had spent the previous evening crying in both relief and frustration at your situation.

You thread your fingers around the back of his skull to stoke across the seam where his hairline meets his nape. The action is meant to be comforting, but it appears to stoke something deeper in his eyes as he sighs into the contact, tilting his head back in such a way that makes the rumble that echoes through his throat all the more prominent. Kix attempts to keep the lazy smirk on his face as he peers at you through heavy, dark eyelashes, but there's a hazy lust swimming beneath them now. It pairs itself beautifully with the spread of blush peppering his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The whole combination taints his attempt at playing off his bravado with an unmistakable bashfulness that has you smiling even wider against the pace of your own quickening heartbeat.

Your fingers continue to wind teasing little circles down his neck as you still to watch his reaction, lying in wait and thinly veiled curiosity to see what his next move would be. Kix watches you with just as much intensity, tongue jutting out to wet his lips for a moment as his blush grows darker under your touch. His grip around your middle flexes with uncertainty as he cocks an eyebrow when you drag your hand down to rest on his shoulder, digits drumming against the muscle in silent anticipation.

The air between you has shrugged away it's quiet serenity now, what has sunk in to replace it is much more charged, but still apprehensive of crossing the final line with the fear that the other was not completely open to the idea of embracing it, considering all that had unfurled the night before.

He kisses you then, shattering it. The press of his lips is hungry, and carries a hint of the same desperation they had tasted of the previous evening when he’d told you he loved you between the salty bite of tears and yearning. But even so, this is different, because he’s yours and the pain attached to his confession feels long spilled now. By the second time your lips meet, you’re openly sighing into his mouth and you catch the hitch in his own breath as you do so. The fire is all but blazing in his brown eyes when you finally part, though you only get the chance to stare completely into its flames for a moment before he’s pushing himself up to loom over you, fastening you down against the mattress with little more than the press of his hand against your own beside your head.

“How about I help you wake up properly, hmm?” Gone is the tiredness in his tone. His voice reaches you in a husky, thickened wave that wraps down your spine in a shiver. A quiet giggle of delight leaves you as you stare upwards at him, and his smile cracks wider to reach his eyes at your reaction. It sings of the old Kix, the real Kix, and that knowledge warms your heart even deeper than where mere lust could ever hope to reach it. There's still a nagging hint of concern tugging at the corner of your soul however, even despite the heat licking between your thighs at the thought of having him completely. It reminds you that you’re still concerned about his well being considering everything he had endured as of late, as well as the fact you were very much still sore from your own physical injury. Kix seems to read your thoughts because in the second of silence that separates the two of you, his expression softens in time with his voice.

“I’ll be gentle with you, I want this too, so much.”

Another kiss, this one soft and prolonged, whispering adoration and assurance into the very heart of you.

“I love you.”

You seize the forbidden fruit and completely melt into his embrace.

The next thing you know, you’re stripped bare and writhing beneath him as he kisses his way down between your thighs. He’s attentive to each catch of your breath and the buck of your hips when one of his hands ghosts over a particularly sensitive patch of skin in the dip of your hip bone. You have to remind yourself to breathe each time his lips edge further down your torso, the muscles of your abdomen rippling beneath his teasing caresses and the fan of his breath as he chuckles to himself at how you squirm at the slightest indication of him travelling lower, towards where you crave him most. Kix is as naked as you are, having wasted little time tearing off his blacks alongside each article of clothing he stripped away from your own body. His hand was quick to recapture your own in its grasp once he had you exposed to his satisfaction. Your fingers remain caged amidst his own, held hostage while his other hand continues to grope and explore the expanse of your flesh, only breaking their journey to bat away your own free hand each time you reach out to attempt to grasp at him.

“Ah, ah, ah, nope,” His voice is playfully frustrating as he reprimands you, another chuckle slipping through it when you finally relent and flop down in exasperation at his refusal to let you touch him in return, “this is about you, lay back and let me take care of you, cyare.”

You’re about to clap back at him with a sarcastic rebuttal when the sensation of his breath over your core rips any remaining shred of coherency from you. You briefly register him mutter something about ‘thanking you for everything’ and the feeling of him hauling one of your thighs over his shoulder before the sound of your own moaning echoes in your ears. It forces you to clamp your trembling free hand over your mouth in an attempt to keep your noises of delight secret from the rest of the base. It’s counterpart remains laced with his own as he pulls it down to rest near your hip and squeezes it reassuringly to ground you both from floating away with the clouds of lust permeating the room.

Kix groans against your folds as he drags his tongue over your clit in long, drawn out stripes, clearly revelling in the taste and slickness coating his lips. You can feel the scratch of his stubble brush against your inner thigh with each movement of his jaw and it only heightens the fire spreading across your nerves further. It takes a good minute before you can find the strength to push yourself up to lock eyes with him from where he’s stationed between your legs, the heavy-lidded expression decorating his face only pushing you further towards your peak. He looks positively love-struck as he lathes his tongue against your cunt, relentlessly switching between circling your clit and teasing the tip of the slick muscle inside of your entrance in such a way that has you seeing stars once your head tilts back once more, never quite letting you adjust to one pattern before catching you off guard with another. You lift your hips and grind against the pressure his tongue lavishes on you, chest heaving with the threat of a quickly approaching climax, one that’s only spurred on further when Kix’s chest rumbles with a shuddering moan as your slick runs down his chin and onto the sheets below.

It's dizzying almost, and he has you sobbing and babbling sweet nonsense into the pillows when your first orgasm hits you with a shock that threatens your vision white. Kix remains between your legs even as you begin to come down from your high, rubbing soothing circles into the twitching flesh of your thigh as you take in heavy gasps of warm air to steady your breathing.

“You ok there, cyare?” The warmth bubbles upwards to your chest once you register the care cradled in his words.

“-Mmhmm,” You’re more than ok, despite the tremble in your legs you feel fucking elated after his display of ‘gratitude’, but the intensity of your orgasm has left you feeling so dazed it takes a substantial deal of effort to simply nod your head as you remain slumped against the pillows and crumpled sheets.

Kix waits patiently for you to regain composure, his fingers dancing over your hip now as he admires you in your afterglow. You suddenly feel a little shy, spread out, spent and wet beneath where he cranes over you, but the feeling quickly fades as fast as it surfaces because it's Kix and he makes you feel safer than anyone else in the universe.

“I’m great, actually,” Your voice is somewhat raspy from the strain of your moaning, but Kix still grins at you like you’ve just serenaded him instead. The sight of it flusters your words all over again, “‘wanna - want to make you feel good too though, want you, Kix.”

His blush deepens further as the air appears to leave his lungs through his nose at your blunt confession. He swallows thickly, and you can see the remnants of your wetness glistening around his mouth in the dim light.

Now it's your turn to smirk.

He’s lost for words for a moment before he can bring himself to crash down and kiss you again. This time you can taste yourself on his lips and the knowledge of what you’ve shared only makes you groan louder and buck your hips against him, finally released from the cage of his bicep around your thigh. You can feel the length of his cock, hot and heavy and desperate as it skims against your stomach and smears a trail of precum across your skin. His hands remain planted at either side of your head, holding his weight up on his forearms so as not to crush you or potentially aggravate your injury any further. The care he takes in handling you softens your heart, but you note the hesitation stiffening his muscles.

“...Hey,” your tone is as soft as your eyes as you reach up to cup his cheek and force his gaze to yours, marvelling in the way the heat of his body so quickly envelops your own, “I’m not going to break. It’s already healing thanks to the bacta so you don’t need to worry. Please.”

“...Ok.” He keens into your touch as you once again rake your fingernails over the seam of where his tattoo meets his hairline, you make a mental note to remember the reaction such a mindless gesture draws from him. When his eyes reopen to lock with yours, they’re practically swimming with a gilded stream of desire. “I love you.”

You don’t have a chance to repeat the declaration back to him before the words are stolen from you and replaced by a stuttering moan as he pushes into you. Your head hits the pillow the same moment he bites a mark into the curve of your throat and stills his hips against yours, completely submerged within your cunt until his pelvis kisses your own. You both moan in tandem as you flutter around him, split open and stretched in the most delicious way with his pubic bone grazing your clit.

You’re sure you hear him bite down on a whimper as you give an experimental buck of your hips, his eyes closing the moment you wrap your legs around his middle to force him impossibly closer still. Kix’s hands fist the sheets beside your head, and you’re confident you’ve never seen a man look more beautiful than he does in this moment. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and you crane your neck upwards to press a kiss to his chin, a silent plea for him to move and drag another wave of pleasure from your body. Broad hands fly to cup your face the moment he begins a slow pace inside you, the weight of his body falling to his elbows as his eyes snap open to watch for your reactions. He feels incredible, pulling out nearly all the way before snapping his hips back to meet your own each time in long, deep thrusts that have you moaning obscenely each time he comes to the end of you. He steals each sound from your lips with a series of sloppy open mouthed kisses, showering you in stumbled words of praise in a mixture of basic and mando’a.

The bed creaks beneath the force of your bodies, and at this point you’ve all but abandoned your attempts to keep quiet in favour of whispering just how much you love him and how good he makes you feel. You cling to his shoulders as he fucks you deeper into the mattress, holding onto him just as tightly as he does to you - it's a wordless promise that you aren’t going to disappear and abandon him, that you’re his as much as he’s yours.

“-Feel so good, so good to me cyare, always been so good to me-” his gritted-out praise tightens the coil in your stomach and all too soon you feel the familiar creep of another orgasm approaching you. His hands skim over your chest, stomach, face, before settling themselves with one cradling the back of your head whilst the other snakes downward to rub at your clit in tight little circles that have your eyes rolling back into your skull.

His praises fall off into a string of hurried curses as his hips begin to stutter to an erratic pace, however, his eyes never leave your own all the while. His jaw is clenched tightly, pulled taunt like the muscles in his arms as he angles his thrusts to drag against something delicious within your walls that has you mewling in delight. Despite the intensity of his actions, he’s still so gentle, so attentive in how he handles you. Ever vigilant to note each reaction you make to his touches and taking care not to jostle your still-healing body too violently.

“Fuuuck… Fuck! I love you - look so pretty like this, so perfect - just wanna stay like this forever.” His words are borderline incoherent now as he resigns to losing himself inside you, punctuated by rattling groans and a sigh that gets knotted in his throat as the emotion of the moment washes over him time and time again with each thrust.

The moment he dips down to moan into your open mouth as he sheathes himself completely to the hilt once more, you let go. You topple over the edge into a second orgasm that's so strong that it tears a silent scream from your lungs and forces fresh, hot tears of relief to gather in the corner of your eyes, body and mind wrecked in unison from the over stimulation of it all.

Kix follows you into climax straight after, succumbing to the way you tighten and flutter around him as he attempts to fuck you through your orgasm until your toes are curling against where they rest on his lower back. His hips falter and he all but whines as he stills inside you abruptly, eyes finally screwing themselves shut as he pulses within you and paints your insides in thick, hot ropes. He keeps your lower body close against him even after his breathing begins to even out and his cum has long since began to drip out of you from around his softening cock.

You feel thoroughly spent now, limbs heavy and head spinning with the force of the orgasm that had just claimed you. Kix is the first to shift properly, withdrawing from you slowly with a kiss and a low groan that you feel more than you hear. The medic takes a moment to give you a quick visual once over, but you swat at his shoulder in mock annoyance despite the fatigue clinging to your joints. He relents, flopping down beside you and taking up an embrace the mirrors the one you had awoken tangled within that same morning.

“I love you.” You swallow thickly around the words as you gaze at him, despite the lull of your afterglow, they come easily to you and you relish in how normal it feels to say them, to be held in his arms as if you were the only two souls awake in some private little galaxy you had created together. “I love you and I want to stay like this forever with you, Kix.”

His eyes hold a different tiredness now, this one is satisfied and soulful and free from worry - at least for a little while. You hope that this happiness lasts for him, he deserves it more than anyone else you know.

“I love you more, mesh’la.” His fingers reach up to brush against your cheek before pulling you in for a tender kiss, humming in contentment before parting slightly to mutter against your lips, “m’just sorry I don’t have much more to offer you than my charming looks, taste in brandy and my unofficial record for being the fastest at stitching up an incision in the whole GAR.”

You snort into his neck in response to the ridiculous quip before nuzzling your nose against his pulse. He squirms a little at the tickle of your breath against him and you make another point to remember the location of the sensitive spot for a later date.

“But honestly,” his tone drops to something more serious and your eyes wander back to lock with his own, a ghost of a frown pulling at your brow at the change, “you’ve always had to put up with a lot when it comes to me… you’re only going to have to deal with more where loving me is involved-”

“Kix, stop.” You’re firm as you catch his hand in your own, squeezing it to stress the finality of your statement before gracing his knuckles with another light kiss, “Nothing is easy at the moment and loving you is the one thing that's come so naturally to me. I don’t want anyone else because simple or not, they aren’t you.”

He smiles, wide and true before he begins to slowly encroach towards you to steal another kiss-

Until the shrill beep of your comlink shocks you both apart.

You shoot the device a glare, grumbling in annoyance as you untangle yourself from Kix to fish the offending item out from where your clothes lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. He chuckles into his fist and you give him a sideways glance in warning before raising the comlink closer to your face, winching slightly at the brightness flashing from the thin strip of its display.

“Hello?” The annoyance bleeds into your voice before you can think to stop it, a cold pang of panic shoots through you at the realisation that you forgot to check who it was contacting you before accepting the transmission.

“Good morning, am I right to assume that Kix is with you currently? It’s just that he was supposed to be present in the medical bay this morning to relieve me from my shift and yet here I am still - and I happened to bump into a trooper that claimed he saw you bundle him into your room yesterday evening.” It’s Officer Eir, and judging by the dryness coating his tone, he’s in a foul mood and more than aware of why Kix is late to tend to his duties despite the concern he had shown towards your lover the evening prior. You suppose the lack of sleep would do that to anyone.

Your cheeks automatically swelter with heat, quickly beginning to regret trusting the Medical Officer with the closeness of your bond with Kix. The man in question looks mortified at the circumstances he’s found himself in, but he still cockily mentions for you to tell Eir ‘hi’ despite fully knowing that the irritated clone could easily hear him over the line. You can envision Eir’s deadpan blink from all the way over in the medical ward.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I even wasted my time thinking about calling Kix first. I’m glad that you made sure he wasn’t alone last night, but need I remind him that stimshots are too important to waste on a hangover… or any other activity related fatigue that doesn't benefit the Republic.” You hear a sigh from over the comlink, the digital rendering making it sound crackled and disjointed - but it still makes you feel as though you’ve been singled out for committing a heinous crime all the same. “...I’ve taken the liberty of finding him a spare pair of scrubs, because I know he won’t want to risk returning to his bunk late while there are Jedi milling around.”

Kix raises his eyebrows thoughtfully, clearly touched that his fellow medic took the time to cover for him despite no doubt being desperate to lay down his head and rest.

“Um, yeah ok Eir I’ll… pass on that information to him - goodbye.”

You’ve never hung up on a call so quickly, and you hope to the Maker that no one had somehow managed to intercept your communication line. Kix still carries a bashful flush of his own, but it doesn’t stop him from grinning boyishly before another quip leaves his lips.

“Should’ve told him that I’ve already eaten breakfast too, bet that would have flustered him even more than you.”

The comment earns him a sweaty pillow to the face.

You still send him on his way with a ration bar all the same, taking a silent delight in how unsteady his initial movements are when he rushes to slip out of your door and down the hallway. He flashes you a wink and the hint of a loving gaze before slipping back into the role of a disciplined soldier once more as his long legs carry him away.

After he’s gone, you take a moment of private reflection to delight in how your spirit seems lighter and your heart feels fuller than it did yesterday.

Cyare.

You would never grow tired of hearing that fall from his lips.

#kix x reader #kix #kix reader insert #clone wars reader insert #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #touch starved #WOO HERE IT IS #my first full length smut fic #mine #this got soft

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yzkhr · 4 years

Text

Love Language miniseries for Shinran!

I dedicate this corny and cringe worthy miniseries to @meitanteisachi for giving me inspiration through her gifset and her wonderful fanfictions.

Acts of Service- a language that can best be described as doing something for your partner that you know they would like, such as filling up their gas, watering their plants, or cooking them a meal.

"Not sick, huh?"

Shinichi glared as Ran leaned back from the table, unamused. He was working on a difficult case in their—now only his— mansion, when she showed up unannounced after he forgot to attend school. He was wearing his school uniform but lost sense of time being too absorbed at the new case Inspector Megure gave him.

"I told you I'm fine." he avoided her scrutinizing gaze, being stubborn. Ran wouldn't have any of it however, bringing her left hand to her waist like a stressed mother.

"Fine? You're burning hot and your face is even redder than a traffic light!" she argued and his face produced an even darker shade, acknowledged.

He wanted to protest and retaliate how can it not be when she literally put her face in front of his without any sort of warning, brushing his unruly bangs upwards with her soft hand and letting their foreheads touch as he froze while she remained unbothered.

The detective restrained himself however, not wanting any further embarrassment to occur.

He heard a sigh from Ran, forcing him to turn around. She was now arranging the stack of messy papers and documents, bringing them to side.

"Oi, what are you doing?" he frowned as he stood up from the swivel chair and held Ran's hand to stop her. It didn't go unnoticed how Shinichi flinched at the coldness of her skin.

Ran eyed their physical contact before giving him a stern gaze.

"I'm fixing all of these so you can rest. You won't be touching files until your fever's gone." she effortlessly shook his hand away, continuing.

"Ran, I told you I'm fine. I have to end this case cause if I don't---"

"Then you can let Megure-keibu and the other officers to handle it until you're well again." she was consistent at putting all the paperwork aside, not even sparing a glance.

"I told you I'm fine didn't I? It's just a fever."

Finally done with her task, Ran faced him with an expression that resembled his mother way too much for his own comfort.

"You're not fine. You have a horrible fever and along with it is a terrible headache. You didn't actually expect to read all of these with those blurry eyes of yours, did you?"

She squinted, gesturing at more than fifty papers on the side. He opened his mouth to deny her claims but retreated seeing her eyes squint even more, as if challenging him to lie. Ran was right. He'd been trying to ignore the throbbing of his head and the haze in his vision while reading through the entire case.

He sighed as his misty eyes finally having the time to observe her. She was still wearing their uniform, which means she went here as soon as classes were over. He suddenly remembered an important thing.

"Wait, don't you have an upcoming Karate competition? You have training everyday after school right?" he smirked internally, finding out a plot hole.

But instead of seeing a look of panic and rushing out the of the doorway like Shinichi expected her to do, Ran simply grabbed his hand towards the door making his cheeks turn red out of surprise and something he would never dare name of.

"I'll just skip it for today. Besides, I have something more important to take care of." she squeezed his warm hand, hinting what—or who— important thing she meant.

Blushing even more at the implication certainly did not make his illness any better.

After a few stumble here and there, they finally got to the bedroom in one piece. Minutes seemed like an eternity, with his headache feeling like he was being hammered. He was freezing and sweating at the same time not knowing if he should undress or add more layers. It was good thing that Ran immediately slumped Shinichi down the bed, and started removing his blazer.

Wait, what?

"Umm..." he spoke weakly, but still complying and accepting her help. He thought that she was done but she suddenly kneeled in front of him and leaned in, making Shinichi hyper aware of everything around him. Her hands went straight to his uniform which he did not predict. She was now untying his neck tie, making their faces inches apart. She was so close that he could feel her breathing at the open part of his longsleeve. Despite his mind telling him not to, Shinichi's eyes went directly to her face, which seemed too focused at her task, with her slightly furrowed eyebrows and violet orbs concentrated at undoing the knots. He would never admit it, but Ran looked too innocent and pure that it was killing him.

It didn't help that her scent was literally intoxicating him. A combination of honey and lemon, Shinichi noticed. Flustered and a bit shameful, he looked up,having butterflies in his stomach with his childhood friends' soft and nimble hands slowly removing the fabric from his neck.

He jolted awake when she begins unbuttoning his polo however. On instinct, Shinichi took a hold of her hands before they can go further. Shocked and confused, Ran looked up.

"I," he breathed heavily. "I think I can do this myself, Ran."

As if broken by a spell. Her face instantaneously turned crimson red at the realization that Shinichi might have thought she was the one with the fever. She stood up straight away, turning around and making a beeline to the door. She had been uptight all day that he was a bit glad the usual Ran came back.

He wanted to laugh at her reaction but was too tired to do so. Even slightly moving drained him, but it didn't mean he wasn't capable of undressing himself.

"I-I'm sorry! I got lost in my thoughts! I'm going downstairs!" she squeaked and left in an instant, closing the door with a loud thud.

Now alone, Shinichi struggled to move his shaking hands to undo the buttons. After a few more attempts, he was finally able to fully strip and drag himself to the closet. Nauseated and feeling like the world weighed on his shoulders, he randomly put on a white pajama and went straight to his bed, curling a bit like a kitten. His eyelids getting heavier and heavier, Shinichi closed his eyes, immediately falling asleep.

"Shinichi? Shinichi?"

Hearing a faint voice from behind, Shinichi turned around languidly and opened his eyes, meeting a concerned Ran.

"Hmm?" he hummed, still sleep deprived.

She brought up a steaming hot bowl of food, smiling.

"I cooked you chicken soup. Sit up, you have to eat." she ordered gently.

Despite feeling pain all over his body, he obeyed, knowing that he needed energy. Sitting up groggily, Shinichi faced his caretaker.

Ran sat beside the empty space of his bed, chicken soup in her hand. He frowned at the sight of the food.

"You still cooked my favorite style? Even though you know I won't be able to taste it anyway?" she shrugged as a response, bringing a spoonful near her and blowing weakly.

"Well, you might not be able to taste it but your stomach will surely enjoy it, so why not?" something in his chest swelled after hearing such words. Still, he kept it to himself.

After a few more blows, Ran brought the spoon near his mouth, gesturing for him to eat it. Face flushing and coughing slightly, Shinichi took a bite at the soup. Albeit tasteless, he couldn't help but smile mildy, knowing the effort put in.

Ran laughed a little looking at him as well, but said nothing and continued feeding him.

After five minutes or so, the bowl was finally empty. She told him that he could have just ate half but Shinichi argued that he was hungry(he really wasn't but he would never stand having a food Ran cooked for him go to waste but he'll die before she even find that out).

He was now inclining back to the comfort of his own bed when Ran spoke.

"Seriously, don't overwork yourself Shinichi." she berated, masking her worry with exaggeration as she arranged the plate and the soup, slowly making her way outside.

"I wasn't, I just got a little busy that's all." her saw how Ran rolled her eyes at his excuse as she replied.

"A little busy? You rarely get sick. I was so close to believing you were invincible to fevers." he scoffed at her remark, being defeated with yet another fact. Maybe the pain he felt was a lot worse than he expected.

"Look, I'm glad that you're trying to save as many people as you can but you also can't forget about yourself." he winced at the obvious disappointment and seriousness of her scolding. Instead of meeting her gaze that bore holes into him, he averted his stare into the lamp.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not. And besides, if you don't take care of you, think of all the people that will need you but won't have you." he stayed quiet, getting her point. Shinichi knew it was irrational being stubborn and pushing himself to the limits but he just couldn't help it. He may be a cocky bastard as a lot of people call him, but he wasn't someone that can stand not being able to help when he clearly can.

He sighed, giving in.

"Fine. I promise I'll take better care of myself." his answer seemed to satisfy Ran as she smiled contently.

"Good." as he heard the creaking of the doorframe, Shinichi instinctively flipped his head towards the sound.

"You're leaving?"

He didn't know why, but an infallible amount of upset coursed through him at the thought of Ran leaving. She paused by the door and looked back, inclining her head to the side.

"You want me to stay?" she teased in a light-hearted manner, making Shinichi's cheeks flushed.

"N-no, just wondering.." he played it cool by keeping his voice even, now being reminded how pathetic he must have sounded like asking her if she was leaving.

"I'll stay. After all, someone has to make sure a certain mystery otaku doesn't go back to the library just because he's feeling a little better."

He glared at her jesting and turned to the other side, lying down.

"Barou, it's not like I can do that with my entire body in pain."

Ran laughed, knowing she annoyed him enough.

"Then that's more reason for me to stay right?"

Before he can even think of a reply, she already closed the door and all Shinichi could hear were the sound of her shoes walking downstairs and the erratical beating of his heart he hoped was a side effect of the fever and not..... entirely something else.

#Shinran #1/5 #Fluff #Sickfic #detective conan

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ootori-sibs · 4 years

Text

Kyoya's second shot

Episode eight: Dinner with Yuuichi!

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up to Yuuichi shaking him gently, "Kyoya? Wake up, it's three minutes past five." Oh god, it was worse then he'd thought; he'd overslept.

Kyoya sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes before fumbling to pick up his glasses from underneath his blankets. "Oh! Uh, I… sorry Yuuichi, I didn't intend to fall asleep." He hung his head in shame, surely Yuuichi wouldn't want to spend time with him now, he was a disgrace…

Yuuichi pulled him into a hug instead, "hey, don't worry about it, nothing wrong with taking a little nap, even if it's by accident," he chuckled gently, poking Kyoya gently, "I doubt you got much sleep last night away, watching movies with your buddy." Kyoya was shaken, shocked that his brother didn't seem to mind it… He watched Yuuichi stretch, he had changed outfits since lunchtime, and was now wearing a much more casual outfit, a white polo shirt with some black jeans… still looking almost formal, but more passable for regular society. "Are you going to get dressed? Come on bud, let's get you ready to go, alright?"

Kyoya just let Yuuichi help pick out his outfit, not caring how the outfit chosen was the cutest one possible, Yuuichi was like that. He got dressed then sat and let his brother remove the makeup still on his face, Yuuichi made sure to be gentle with the makeup wipe, but he was thorough and didn't leave even the foundation on Kyoya's face. It was clear his shock at the state of the bags under Kyoya's eyes, not having expected his baby brother to be so sleep deprived, but Yuuichi didn't ask, and Kyoya was thankful. He sat still when Yuuichi combed his hair for him, pleased when it was the easiest task for his brother.

When they were both ready, they got into Yuuichi's car, not a limo- Yuuichi had said that it might scare the commoners. They sat in silence on the way there, Yuuichi just focused on driving, and Kyoya focused on the fact that he didn't bring his book, he'd forgotten his book- he hadn't written a single entry the whole day, how was he supposed to know today even happened? He'd have to be sure to write one when he got home. Of course, it wasn't completely silent, Yuuichi had left the radio on, albeit very quietly, Kyoya had a sneaking suspicion that his older brother hated the quiet just as much as he did.

They walked into the… restaurant? Diner? They walked into the building, and Kyoya felt like a child, he wanted to hold his big brother's hand and not meet anyone's eye- he settled for just the latter. "What do you want to get Kyo?" Yuuichi had asked him that as they stood in the queue, Kyoya wasn't exactly sure what he wanted… he'd only been to an establishment like this one before, and it was a different brand. Kyoya looked over at the big screens displaying the menu, he was annoyed how he had to squint a bit to see some of the items written, even with his glasses on. He sometimes wished he could just see, but his glasses were one of his defining traits, he couldn't hate everything people liked about him- it wasn't mathematically possible, he had to at least be neutral towards one thing, and he chose his glasses.

He chose to order one of their special burger things, it contains cheese, meat and most importantly; bread, so Kyoya was happy with it. Of course he let Yuuichi order, who ordered the full meal instead of just a burger- Kyoya wasn't even aware you had to specify, as well as a milkshake, a vanilla one, knowing that Kyoya preferred simplicity. Kyoya was, of course, a little annoyed that Yuuichi bought a coffee for himself but not for Kyoya, but he knew that Yuuichi was just trying to look out for him, and avoid giving him a caffeine addiction that he probably already had. They didn't really have to wait that long, Kyoya was amazed they could make mincemeat and cook it into a burger shape in such a short time- though he'd heard that some commoners buy premade burgers that they just cooked, he wasn't sure if he believed that.

They'd originally sat at a table to wait, planning to sit there to eat the food as well. But it became increasingly clear that the chatter inside the diner; the screaming children, the many different conversations happening at once, the random adverts happening on the screens for the restaurant they were already inside- it was all a bit much for Kyoya, especially after laying in bed all day, and he was visibly uncomfortable with the atmosphere, even as he tried to look happy for his brother's sake. Yuuichi was a lot more caring then Kyoya gave him credit for, instantly asking Kyoya if he'd rather eat in the car, assuring him that of course he didn't mind, of course he wasn't mad, before Kyoya could even ask- he knew his littlest brother too well.

So they sat in the car to eat, the music still softly playing in the background, stimulating, but not too much. Kyoya opened the little box his food had come in, picking up a fry and hesitantly eating it- it was good, better than the place Haruhi had taken him, god, Haruhi couldn't do anything right. It was of course, horrendously shitty, but a good sort of shitty; it was salty and greasy and almost inedible, and so was the burger… it was heaven for the boy who only ever got served light and delicate foods, or rich and stodgy foods. Kyoya very rarely got to eat the food common people are, and he enjoyed it so very much. He'd had commoner food yesterday too, he was very lucky and this was a great weekend. He was halfway through his burger- three bites to be precise, when Yuuichi chuckled.

"Were you really that hungry Kyoya? You should've eaten lunch," he was smiling, joking, but something about his words made Kyoya feel really, suddenly wrong- he almost felt nauseous with shame. He put the burger back in the box, closing it as fast as he could, he couldn't meet his brother's eyes, so instead looked through the front window, hands beginning to shake.

"No! I… I'm not that hungry at all really, I uh- it's not even that good, it's all greasy and disgusting and I-..." he trailed off… he didn't have an answer that was satisfying, he suddenly felt filthy for enjoying such a food, he was supposed to be above such things- was this a trap? Was it a test? Did he fail? Was Yuuichi going to get angry at him? Was he going to yell? Was he going to tell him he deserved his scars- no, Yuuichi wouldn't do that, his big brother wouldn't do that to him…

He realised he'd begun to panic when Yuuichi set a gentle hand on his shoulder, looking concerned, "Kyoya. Kyoya, listen to me; it's alright, I was just joking, I didn't realize you'd panic, I'm sorry, there's nothing wrong with enjoying your food," his voice was nothing but gentle, it left no room for arguments but really helped settle Kyoya, he smiled softly at Kyoya again, before picking Kyoya's milkshake out of the cup holder and handing it to him, "maybe try and have a drink between bites, it's a good idea to hydrate too."

Kyoya just silently nodded, taking the milkshake and slowly sipping it… it was incredibly thick for a drink, he enjoyed it immensely, but was careful about not showing it too much. He just quietly finished his food, smiling softly by the end of it, the last time he'd spent time with his brother like this, it was middle school- his first year, if Kyoya remembered right. It had been warm and bright that day, around lunch time. This time, it's evening, and they're sitting in Yuuichi's car, trying to fight off all those horrible thoughts. It's working a little, Kyoya feels better here than he did in bed, sitting with his big brother… it made him feel safe.

Yuuichi would protect him, he'd promised that back when Kyoya was three, and every time Kyoya was in pain, Yuuichi silently restated the promise; he'd protect Kyoya from everything, even Kyoya himself.

When they'd finished their meal, Kyoya just silently sipping the last dregs of his milkshake, Yuuichi took the car through the drive through, ordering them both an apple pie. But what they got was not a pie, it was similar to a sausage roll in shape, but filled with an apple jam, Kyoya stared at it for a moment, confused. "Careful," Yuuichi said, smiling, "it's really hot, you might want to leave it a while."

Kyoya was never one to take his brother's advice, besides, wasn't it better to eat food while it's hot? He took a bit of the apple pie, oh that was good, much better than Kyoya was expecting- much hotter too, very hot in fact… so hot it hurt. The second Kyoya realised he was in pain, he took another bite of the molten treat, relishing both the taste and the pain. It was nowhere near the pain he got on his arms and legs, but it was a pain his brother wouldn't mind if he gave himself, so it was a pain Kyoya would gladly take.

It was cathartic, in a strange way- a lighter pain then usual, and in a different place too, it felt like a brief respite from his usual way of coping with things. But he ate too fast, and the apple pie was quickly gone, Kyoya felt disappointed at that, he had been enjoying that, why was it so small? His frown must have been visible, because Yuuichi smiled, barely taking his eyes off the road, "You can have mine if you want, I don't care that much." Kyoya had grabbed it before Yuuichi even finished the sentence, he was confident in stealing from his brother- he felt safe here after all. He bit into the apple pie, it was still hot, but didn't burn him like his had, it was still incredibly satisfying nonetheless though, Kyoya couldn't complain.

They got home, and father demanded to know where they'd been, Yuuichi just chuckled, apologising for not texting him, saying how he hadn't realised they'd be out that long and other various things to placate their father. Kyoya couldn't help but shuffle behind Yuuichi slightly, he wasn't scared of father, of course not, he'd just rather stand here, where it was safe.

But father didn't seem angry at Kyoya at all, barely even acknowledging he was there, he instead chose to lecture Yuuichi, telling him how he'd prefer to be notified when the man takes Kyoya out for little trips. Yuuichi had apologised again, and tried to say he didn't think it'd matter too much, when father spoke words that shut down any path of descent.

"I don't want to not know where my youngest is when he's been displaying self destructive habits again, what if he breaks down in public? Where there are hundreds of people watching? What then Yuuichi? I want to hear your answer, since you seem to know what's best for your brother."

Yuuichi simply hung his head in shame, not meeting anyone's eyes as Tachibana led Kyoya upstairs. Kyoya felt nothing but guilt… guilt and shame, father was only angry at Yuuichi, because he was ashamed of Kyoya. Fiyumi must have told him about the recent scars… now father was worried about Kyoya embarrassing him with his failing mental health. What did father think was going to happen? Did he think Kyoya was going to self harm in public? Or- god forbid- start crying? Father must have thought him truly weak to say that sort of things in earnest, it was the cruelest thing Kyoya had ever heard.

#kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club #yuuichi ootori #yoshio ootori #kyoyassecondshot #Second

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snow--blanket · 4 years

Text

good morning kisses

pairing: isaac/napoleon fandom: ikemen vampire word count: 2405 ***

“God’s breath—”

“I don’t—” Napoleon ‘the terror of France’ Bonaparte started, but cut his sentence short. “How?”

“I don’t…. know. Sodium bicarbonate was supposed to—um, make the…” Isaac struggled to word it in a way Napoleon could understand. When faced with panic and distress, his brain immediately resorted to scientific lingo like a liar did with high pitched intonations. “The black thing float.”

“I was out for an hour—”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

Napoleon walked to the fridge and tapped the sign kissed to it, as if asking for an explanation. It read: NO SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS IN THE KITCHEN. He tapped the sign, once, twice, three times, all with increasing tempo, until the paper slid off the magnet and fell to the floor, much like Isaac’s heart did. He hated disappointing Napoleon. “What happened to our friends with benefits contract?”

Benefit was a loose term used in between them—namely, Isaac would help him with his calculus homework (trig too, if Napoleon was particularly loathsome that day) and Napoleon would help Isaac to not get bullied by Arthur and Dazai. It worked, but he really should talk to Napoleon about toning down his manly hero voice when he came to his rescue. He felt too much like a damsel in distress then. Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he would like to keep that portion for future use, like when he corrects the barista’s spelling of his name. But he had made more trouble than benefit to Napoleon, and his face flushed as he berated himself. “I’m sorry,” Isaac said in a panic. He would play his trump card, what he called the Coward’s Calling: just beg for forgiveness until Napoleon got irritated and shoved it under the rug. It had a limited use though. If he were to use it now, he couldn’t use it for the next two or so weeks as it had a cooldown period and he needed time to gather his pride again so he could throw it away and grovel for mercy.

“You already said that.” Drat. Napoleon often let it pass, but he supposed today’s… grievances were too big to let it slide. They both looked at the foaming pot of yesterday’s burnt curry. In Napoleon’s words, Isaac was to clean up his own mess, and he had to clean out the pot with the charred bottom without scratching it silly. You’re a genius, Napoleon told him. Figure it out.

Contrary to his expectations, Napoleon broke out in a laugh. Isaac hated it when people laughed at him—Leo’s was a condescending, older brother laugh, and he hated that. He was not a child. Arthur and Dazai’s were teasing, and he hated that too. They weren’t close friends. Strangely, his flaming cheeks were not caused by anger at Napoleon’s laughter, but rather embarrassment, for he knew that Napoleon always laughed at him like he was an idiot. Isaac truly felt like he should retreat into the cupboards as Harry did. “Are you done laughing yet?”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just…” Napoleon wiped a tear from his eye. “Y’know, this is why people with theoretical physics degrees still don’t have jobs. You’ve used up so much of your brain thinking about—black holes, or something—”

“The fabric of time and space,” Isaac mumbled.

“—That, yes! Proved my point! You’ve used up so much of your faculties thinking about whatever that is that you don’t know that Arthur probably mixed in citric acid into your baking powder solution to…” Napoleon gestured to the foaming pot, and it looked like a witch’s cauldron. “...cause this. This is a textbook prank, ma cher.”

He might not hate Napoleon, but he sure hated the way that epithet rolled off his tongue. It made his chest feel scratchy, for some reason. “You’ll see,” he said instead. “When this physicist figures out how to make planets habitable, I’ll give you the opportunity to eat gourmet space dust when I leave this place.” Like he said, he didn’t have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he wouldn’t let Napoleon drag the name of science through the mud. Physicists weren’t largely responsible for making a planet habitable, but he hoped Napoleon wouldn’t catch on. Isaac wasn’t very good at this comeback thing. Arthur and Dazai forced him to use his wits for driving them away instead of focusing on lectures. And he couldn’t even do it well!

“Ha! I’d love to taste it.” Ugh, he hated the way Napoleon smiled when he said that, too. The itch on his chest doubled. Now he had to figure out a way to phrase the symptoms to Arthur and let himself play patient for a while. The last time he went to Arthur for a consultation, he couldn’t forget the face he made when he said “it feels like my whole skin is being flipped inside out”. Even a savant doctor can’t figure out what’s wrong with you if you don’t know how to express it.

“Step aside, genius.” Napoleon bumped Isaac out of the way with his hip, looking much like a mother who had her work cut out for her.

“Don’t come crying when calc comes up in class,” Isaac said bitterly, and then tested the word on his tongue. “...Jock.”

Napoleon chuckled at that, and then shooed Isaac away. He felt embarrassed that he wasn’t able to clean up such a simple mess, but being called a genius—even if it was said mockingly—made his chest inflate in pride. At the very least, he would be of use when it came to academia.

***

It was raining—storming, even. Isaac’s bleary gaze wandered to the glaring neon numbers on the alarm clock. 5:34 AM. Maybe Vincent would be up at this time. He got up from his bed, rubbed his eyes awake, and walked to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. He vaguely recalled Vincent saying he wanted to paint the sunrise, and knowing the kind of person he was, he was probably staying up until sunrise. Unlike his reputation as a “bad boy”, Theo was the earliest to sleep in, and earliest to wake. He could use more hours, but he liked to spend the early mornings to make pancakes for Vincent, especially if he was feeling anxious the night prior.

As Isaac passed Napoleon’s door, he stopped, clasping his hands together in a prayer. May whoever who wakes him up be blessed with questions with graphs in their exam. Then he remembered Arthur, and he changed his prayer. May whoever wakes him up gets his face punched. It doesn’t even have to be by Napoleon. Anyone will do. After that, he wished some more, hoping that he was his British counterpart, and that all his coffee was third-grade and cold. When he finished praying, he headed to the communal kitchen, where he found Arthur fiddling with an empty tin of coffee. They were fresh out, it seemed. Isaac held the physical and psychological urge to fist pump the air. “Finished?” he asked, even though he knew they were, indeed, no more. God was by his side.

Arthur rattled the coffee tin, offended. The smart, clever, golden-tongued part-time mystery author and full-time medicine major was reduced to a witless man when he was caffeine deprived. It felt like the sun had died to let the moon breathe a little, except the sun was Arthur’s dreadful tongue, and Isaac wished it was eternal night. There was something that bothered him, though. “Working on a new manuscript?”

“Not today, though, shame.”

Isaac hummed, moving past Arthur to reach for the powdered chocolate malt stashed in the cabinet. “I actually read some of your novels, you know. They’re not bad.”

Arthur cocked a brow at this, leaning on one side of his body as if he was a seesaw. “Oh?”

Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he wouldn’t lie. “Yeah. I can see why you’d want to be a doctor.” Hm. Vincent wants it with milk, if I remember correctly...

“Pray tell,” There was a Cheshire grin playing on his lips, and try as he might, he couldn’t truly wish for Napoleon to kiss those lips of him to shut him up. The thought made him feel itchy again.

“The line of reasoning you use to explain things for your mystery novels,” he started, putting in three spoonfuls of the chocolatey goodness into the mug. Vincent’s had some dabs of yellow and blue paint on them, so it was hard to mix them up. “They’re a bit similar in how you would diagnose a patient. You take a glance at them, try to infer their history and habits, and then you would investigate further for a diagnosis. I think it’s quite…” Isaac hesitated—not because Arthur was undeserving, but it was the first time he recalled ever talking to him in this manner. “...Brilliant. You are, that is,” Isaac finished, pouring some hot water into Vincent’s mug as he stirred it. Saucer, saucer...

Was it the trick of the light? As Isaac reached for the saucers behind Arthur, he swore it looked as if he was blushing, the light dusting of embers on his cheeks as if the light above them both were a fire. Isaac took a sip of his own mug of chocolate, peering at Arthur all the while. He breathed in, steeled himself. “As I am a scientist, allow me to hypothesize, instead of deduct.”

His flustered British counterpart seemed all too accepting of the offer. Strange. It wasn’t normal for Isaac to be the one in this position. Isaac stifled a sigh. How he wished the night would last indeed… “You usually stay up late writing for your books, but I haven’t heard you write anything for the past week when I walked by your room.”

When Arthur was silent, Isaac continued. “You only use about two spoonfuls of coffee beans when you make coffee, but even factoring the fact that Theodorus and Mozart drink coffee, the amount seems to be decreasing exponentially, instead of it’s usual rate.”

Isaac eyed the ticking clock on the wall. 5:40 AM. It was nearly sunrise, and he was sure Vincent was painting without a care in the world. “Thirdly, your clothes smell like paint sometimes.” This final proof put the fire in Arthur’s face again. Isaac offered his hand that held Vincent’s mug and saucer. “It’s almost sunrise. Go bring this to him.”

Arthur took the mug and saucer with a dumbfounded look, and Isaac savored that look for a while, knowing it was as rare as a blue moon. Feeling awkward, Isaac took his mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen and glanced at the witless, silent mystery writer. Take that. Maybe he was good at this comeback thing after all. “Well… just pretend you didn’t see me, I guess.” He wasn’t good at lying, so feigning ignorance was the best he could do.

When he turned, Arthur’s voice stopped him. “I have a deduction.”

Isaac turned his heel, looking at Arthur, and took a sip of his hot chocolate. It had gotten slightly cold. “Yeah?”

“You’re in love with Napoleon.”

“Wha—” He choked, searching for the right words. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t even allow him the slightest shred of decency or subtlety! After he was so gracious in merely insinuating his crush towards Vincent! “You—”

Arthur grinned his cocksure smile, and Isaac truly wished Theodorus was here to punch him in the face. This blathering, insensitive, witless, shameless, atrocious man! “Your face tells it all. You should never become a detective.”

“I don’t—” Isaac said, and then sighed when Arthur kept a level stare, his blue eyes like discerning glass looking through him. Isaac put down the mug of hot chocolate on the counter and then sank his face into his hands in embarrassment, bracing himself for the teasing laugh from Arthur. He hated that. “Was it that obvious?”

As if to apologise for his sudden declaration (which may or may not be truth), Arthur hummed, taking his time. “Not really. It shows on your face, though.” He put down Vincent’s mug, leaning his elbow on the counter.

He lowered his hands—eyes still averted from Arthur’s gaze, and chuckled bitterly. “What? Do I look like I’m researching him or something?” That was usually the case with whatever held his interest, whether it be astrology, chemical compounds, physics problems that seemed impossible at first, and then revealed themselves to him, like a magician that made a one second mistake in the sleight of his hand, and Isaac began to understand. He wasn’t that self-aware of his own expressions, only the things he’s said. And he’s positively sure he’s never spoken of Napoleon in an intimate manner, much less romantic.

“No, not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Isaac scrunched his brows. “The opposite of love is hatred.”

Arthur laughed, and Isaac just tried to be patient with that. “Not at all, chap. I’m saying—when you’re with him, you don’t try to… dissect him, and whatnot. Your love for him makes you human. There’s no glaze in your eyes when you understand something, no foaming at the mouth when you don’t. You’re just…” Arthur stretched his arms wide. “Here. With us, on the ground.” The mystical way Arthur said it made it sound like the kitchen was the entirety of the world. It might as well could’ve been. Arthur was quiet, and his gaze returned to Vincent’s paint blotched mug. “He makes you feel alive, doesn’t he? Like you’re here.”

Isaac stared into the small waves the water made when he nudged his own mug. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“Then that’s that,” Arthur said, grabbing Vincent’s mug as he patted Isaac on the shoulder. For once in his life, Isaac didn’t shudder when Arthur winked at him. “Good luck,” he said, and left the kitchen. Probably to Vincent’s room.

Isaac sighed. Right then. If Arthur could do it, then he could at least try. He brought the cup of hot chocolate with him and knocked at Napoleon’s door, knowing full well that he would be asleep, and that he would try to kiss him again.

His chest itched, but he didn’t bother to question it this time.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp writing #ikevamp fanfic #isaac/napoleon #with a sprinkle of #vinart #uwu

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