#I was having thoughts and feelings about that poem while talking fic

[coffee-at-annies]

tumblr user jj8bang from this post x x

[slut4sugu]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍- ( nsfw + sfw alphabet: Spencer Reid)

mentions of: sex positions, choking, of giving head, some slight fluff, but of an msub!spence

A- AFTERCARE (what he’s like after sex.)

Absolute sweetheart; immediately makes sure you drink water and draws you a bath while you rest. He comes to join you after putting a new set of sheets on your shared bed. “Don’t pout angel, im right here okay?”

Peppers kisses on your face and whispers old poems in your ear as you drift off to sleep.

B- BODY (his partners favorite body part.)

Spencer loves all of you equally; your breasts, your thighs, your ass, all of you. However if her was being honest with himself it would be your voice/ your face. Hearing and see you make such naughty noises with that love drunk look on your face was unfair. The

C- CUDDLING ( big spoon or little?)

both; tho he wouldn’t admit it he loves being the little spoon a bit more, not because he doesn’t like holding you. God does he ever, holding you calms any hypotheticals or concerns he has. Soothes his ever busy mind and makes him feel so at peace.

D-DICK SIZE (how big is he)

Yknow how they say it’s always the quiet ones? Yeah, spence is not anything small. He’s 7.5 soft 8.7 looks like 9 kinda when hard. Trimmed, and it’s flushed pink with a mushroom tip. Very sensitive on the underside of his shaft <33

E- EXPERIENCE ( how experienced is he?)

Now I have a strong belief in the fact that Spence here is a virgin, however that does not mean he’s entirely inexperienced. He might read a bunch of books but the if we’re talking biological books? You know he’s read atleast 200 of those alone. So let’s just say finding your g spot wouldn’t be as hard as your past ex boyfriends made it out to be.

F- FAVORITE POSITION( self explanatory.)

Missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, ie any position that lets him stare into your pretty eyes as he makes love to you.

G- GOOD ( how good are they in bed?)

9.9/10 only reason why spence isn’t a 10 is became he tends to stop mid thrust just to memorize your expression. You’ll literally be on the edge and he’ll just stop to get a good look of your euphoric expression. You almost think it’s partially because he likes hearing you beg for more, but he’d never admit that <3

H- HUGS ( how does he hug? )

in public a quick tight normal hug, usually only lasting 7 seconds but if it’s just you and the team it’s a bit longer. Or until Morgan starts to tease Reid. In private however it’s all types of hugs. Back hugs, bear hugs, princess twirl hugs, any hug there is he’s done it Atleast twice in the hour that he’s come home.

I- INTIMACY ( how romantic is he? )

Very. You know good and well that Spencer doesn’t just take sex as some spur of the moment kind of thing. Each time he makes love to you he makes sure to do just, make love to you. Not focus on his own orgasm, no. Your pleasure is his pleasure. He’s literally cum before just from eating you out.

J- JERK OFF (how often does he self pleasure?)

I’m a strong believer in the idea that he’s never really touched himself like that before until you came into the picture, he just didn’t see the point of it. But when he started having lewd thoughts about you that weren’t exactly professional. Once or twice a month was the norm for him.

K- KISS ( what’s it like kissing him?)

Sweet and methodical; time is something that Reid always takes slow with you. On days when he’s a bit pent up he still takes his time, however his tongue slips into your mouth a bit faster than usual.

L- LOCATION ( where does he like to do it )

In the comforts of his own home; listen while I LOVE the stories/fics of workplace sex w Spencer but I honestly just don’t think that would happen. Love the idea but would it happen, I honestly don’t think so. The most I’d think Spence would even do is finger you in a library under a table.

M- MOAN (moaner, grunter, whiner or begger?)

Spencer can be downright slutty when it comes to moans when he gets into it. Give him two bjs back to back and he’s as horny as a porn star. Whimpering, moaning, and begging for god knows what. It’s honestly surprising and such a turn on to see Dr. Spencer Reid with his head thrown back begging for more of you. Anywhere however, he just needs you now.

N- NO’s (turns off for him.)

Suggesting to do it in public, asking him to hurt you (now I don’t mean choking because done right I feel as though he’d be into it), asking him to degrade you, (his limit is probably calling you a needy slut)

O- ORAL ( does he like giving or receiving more? )

giving; that’s just a given. While the site of you on your knees for him is ethereal, he loves servicing you even more. The feeling of your thighs clamping around his head as you cum, your manicured hands gripping his hair. It’s all so…perfect.

P-PACE ( how fast is he ? )

It all depends on the situation: if you’re needy = deep, slow. If you been bratty = fast, but he’s edging you. If you’ve had a bad day? = whatever you want <3

Q- QUICKES ( self explanatory )

he’d only do this if he was in the middle of pleasuring you already; and he got a call from work when your on the edge of an orgasm/ close to one. What makes you clench impossibly tighter though is the fact that he’s still pumping his fingers in and out of your puffy cunt while discussing the basic details of the case with JJ. Purposely hitting that sweet gummy spot to make if harder for you to stay quiet <33

[bitchimasnake-sss]

i love reading your fics, they always give me 🦋🦋🦋 i love them so much, so, i want to make a request a angst-comfort where zoro and reader are dating but they got into a fight (*cough* zoro got jealous and starts to question reader's loyalty *cough*) but it ends happily because I don't want cry. n e way, continue writing stories, you write them so well... 😚

im so glad you like my work!! and thankyouu so much for sending in the request, let's get to itt <3

moss and towel ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: in which, you and zoro have been dating for six months. but after one fight night and growing distances, he finds himself questioning everything you've built together.

warnings: (poor attempts at writing) angst, zoro acts like an idiot, profanities. yeah, that's about it.

the winds were cruel tonight and even crueler were you. atleast there was some comfort in the cold gusts, some reason in the way they played against the swordsman's skin and left behind selfish goosebumps. atleast, he could attempt to understand it with nami's weather charts or whatnot.

but you. how could he attempt to understand you?

his eyebrows bunched as he stared up, fixing his gaze against the twinkling points. groaning, he put his hand over his eyes. maybe in a way, sure, it was his fault. he was never good with words or those fancy poems or haikus. he was never the one to resort to affection. but how was he supposed to fix this?

the first mate of the ship rested a fraction of his bodyweight against the wooden railing of the crow's nest. the wind tousled his unkempt hair and running a hand through his moss-green locks, he vaguely tried to remember how long it had been since nami dragged him into the bathroom and gave him a haircut again.

probably too long. he concluded with a sigh as the soft tresses caressed the mid-point of the back of his neck.

he was supposed to meet his girlfriend here. that's what had been decided. just you, him and the infinitely infinite night sky. the swordsman had even decided to talk about his feelings 'neath the dark abyss of the sky (even if he hated the mere idea of that).

but it had been 30 minutes and there were no signs of you anywhere.

life had been hectic for the both of you lately, whether it was because of the constant run-ins with the marines, zoro having to accompany luffy to side-quests or some other shit the sea sprouted every once in a while. either ways, it meant that you and him saw less and less of each-other as each day passed him by.

resigning himself to a tired sigh, zoro decided to climb downwards. you were not gonna come, that much was sure.

as his heavy feet planted against the wooden floor, he took a second to collect his thoughts. he started walking the stairs to go under the deck, to the common space where most of the crew lounged at the end of the day. descending, he thought of all possible explainations. maybe you had been caught by someone else and forced to listen to one of their anecdotes, maybe nami had asked you to help with the log pose calculations of the last island, or maybe chopper wanted you to help him grind some fresh medicine.

maybe-

he stepped inside the common place with heavy footsteps and a heavier heart and immediately saw you. you, ever so beautiful with you soft smiles and your lame jokes. you with your flowing hair and unruly habits. you, that was currently laughing along to something that shit-cook was talking about.

he must have caught your gaze cause you immediately looked away from sanji and to your boyfriend, giving him a soft smile. but he left the room without returning that gesture and you found yourself on your feet, walking after him and confused.

you trailed after him, calling his name out sweetly till you reached his room and he shut the door before you could get in.

"hey!" you laughed playfully, twisting the handle with ease and stepping inside. you closed the door behind you and tucked your arms around your chest, sporting a lively pout.

but he seemed to have to reaction to your antics, instead, deciding to carefully lay his three swords on the bed behind him as if he was courting the swords and not you.

"what's up with you?" you raised an eyebrow at him, amused by the way the man sat at the edge of the bed with an annoyed huff. when he said nothing, you pressed again, this time a bit more direct, "why are you grumbling now?"

he's been like this for the past few days and now that he refused to elaborate, you found your patience slipping off of you like a thin overcoat, leaving you behind in your ugly, impatient skin.

today had been hard, like any other day. and for some reason or the other, instead of inviting you into his arms, this man had swore to make your life even more difficult.

"zorooo," groaning, you asked again, "can you stop being so dramatic?"

his head snapped up, eyes finding yours with wicked ease. his jaw was clenched tight, face red as if he was burning up, "i am being dramatic? me?"

"yeah? you're being so fucking weird." you sighed, "why?"

"i dunno, go ask that fucking cook maybe?" he grumbled.

if the exasperation on your face wasn't obvious until now, after that comment, it was surely on full display.

"what?" you hissed, "what is up with you and all these weird accusations?"

"as i said, i dunno. ask that fuckin' waiter instead, why don't you? i'm sure he'd have some answers lined up."

"why are you dragging sanji into this?"

"why are you defending him?" he stood up, his face mirroring your exasperation tenfold. he crossed his arms similarly to yours and the muscles shifted impatiently under his shirt.

you threw you hands upwards, "im not defending him! i am aski—"

"—yes you are defending him, don't even."

you were tired.

god knew you every inch of your muscles were alight with exhaustion, your head was pounding and if he wanted to fight you, you wouldn't even have it in you to fight back. these past few days had been enough on their own. so, you sighed, taking on a resigned tone, "i am so tired, zoro. can't we do it another day?"

"yeah, right." he grumbled again, his eyebrows bunching together in a characteristic manner, "everything needs to be pushed back with you, right?"

"what is that supposed to mean?" you were sure smoke was rising from the top of your head and your pupils were comically blown out, "i was tired and wanted to take some time off, so, i had sat down. and sanji found me to make some ideal chit-chat. god forbid i be tired for once-"

"i was waiting at the crow's nest for the past 30 minutes, where were you?"

"huh—" fuck. your eyes widened as the terrible realization set in. almost on instinct, your fingers reached out to touch him so as to makeup for the terrible deed you had committed. but your boyfriend pulled himself back, dodging your careful grasp before rasping out, "don't."

"zoro, i'm sorry! really, i genuinely cannot believe i forgot—"

"so, you forgot me over that fucking cook?"

"no!" you repeated, slower, "no, of course not. i was just tired and—"

"—and you decided to go off with him instead?" he scoffed, "i thought we were dating and yet, i think we've barely had any time to just spend together. every time it's someone or the other you have to rely on, not me."

"zoro..." you started carefully but he cut off you off, "don't zoro me. it's either nami or sanji or luffy or someone or the other. i wouldn't be surprised if you're fucking blondie behind my back too."

you stared at him, shocked. the wretched feeling gnawed at your insides till you looked at him in pure, utter disgust. the corners of your eyes burned up and you spat out, "don't fucking talk to me."

and you left the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

zoro stared at the place you were standing at and then slowly dragged his eyes at the door that you had slammed shut.

fuck.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆🪐⋆⭒˚｡⋆

well into the night, when he finally had swallowed his pride and mentally beat himself enough, he walked out of his room.

his steps were slow, stride careful so to not panic the mostly sleeping crew. searching through the washroom and the kitchen, the supply closet and chopper's tiny, stashed-away office, he failed to find you. then, he stepped out onto the deck and in a clean sweep, found you at the port side. the wind blew ideally though your hair and you stood with your arms on the railing.

the swordsman silently walked up to you, choosing to stand beside you without saying much. and if he had hoped for you to start the conversation, he was in for a long, long night.

"hey" he finally started off.

"i think i told you to not talk to me."

your feet shifted and you balanced your bodyweight away from him and he pursed his lips. standing in silence, the sounds of waves crashing against the ship painted you both in a uncomfortable hues.

he tried again, "i- i am sorry, really."

"don't care, didn't ask."

roronoa zoro bit the inside of his cheek, savoring the taste of foul rejection in his mouth over and over. but he had never been the one to go out without a fight. hell, he was the king of hell.

"but i am sorry." he repeated and his calloused fingers inched closer to yours, a poor attempt to ghost his skimming touches over your hand. but you were quicker and you pulled your hands back to yourself and wrapped them around yourself.

he slowly withdrew his hand and his head hung low, "how long are you gonna be mad at me?"

"i don't know? probably till i want to."

"babe—"

"—don't babe me."

"i am sorry—"

"—to fuCKING HELL WITH YOUR SORRY!" your cool demeanor washed off and you bore daggers into his paper-like skin as you stared him down. your breath was laboured and you were sure your yells must have woken someone, if not the entire crew.

he stayed silent, ready to face the consequences of his actions. and although venom was a resident on your tongue, looking at his guilt-struck face, you were reduced to nothing but a dumbfounded, little girl.

whatever you had planned, whatever you had thought you'd call him, whatever accusations you had thrown you'd throw at him dissolved at the tip of your tongue. and instead, an ugly feeling stirred under your skin. the feeling sunk heavy in your chest and your stomach and your head and heart and every other crevice of you. bile crawled up your scratchy throat and the same waterworks made home on your lash line.

when you spoke, you were sure your voice sounded more like a desperate plea than a demand for apology.

"why? why did you say that? that was low."

he looked down at his feet, his fingers twiddling against the sword hilt of his wado ichimonji in an attempt to self-soothe, "i know it was wrong. i was just so angry."

"and that makes it okay for you to question my loyalty?" you sniffed, feeling the watery weight cascade down your cheeks.

"no!" he looked up, alarmed, "no! ofcourse it doesn't. i never was— i was just—" he paused, wincing, "—i was jealous of him."

"sanji?!"

he continued, agonized, "yes, the damn cook. and everyone else, i guess. you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

"zoro, why didn't you just say it out loud to me?" you whispered softly. inching closer to him, you rested your palm against his warm cheek. his growing stubble lightly tickled your skin. you hummed softly when he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, pressing an easy kiss to your fingers. "because i- i just couldn't bring myself to. i'm sorry, i should have talked to you rather than being a prick, really."

"i am sorry too. i know we haven't spent any time for the past two weeks or so. i was so busy within myself that i didn't reach out to you." your fingers played gently against the scars on his face from years of training, "these past few days have been hard—"

"—they've been hell."

you laughed despite yourself, "yeah, i guess they've been hell."

his eyes swayed against yours in a guilt-ridden dance, "forgive me?"

you paused a beat, "do you trust me?"

his answer came more easily than breathing did, "more than i trust myself."

you hummed, "sure?"

and he just nodded. as moments passed you both by, he finally quipped up, "so, am i forgiven?"

"well..." you pondered for a second, "technically, i did fuck up too. so, yeah, you're forgiven." you glared at him, "just never say that kinda shit again."

he smiled and when he spoke, he offered a kind explaination, "i didn't actually mean you were fucking the cook. i just- just kinda said it."

"eh," you waved off his comment, "i don't wanna fuck blondes, anyways. to be honest, not really my type."

"huh?!" his eyes widened in play-pretend, "so his hair colour is holding you back?"

"i mean i'm more into idiots who grow slowly on me. like moss does on a wet towel."

roronoa zoro— bounty hunter, pirate, first mate to a terrifying crew, kind of hell, demon, whatever— looked appalled. "are you comparing me to moss?"

"i am comparing how you grew on me to the lowest form of moss that even grows on the stupidest surfaces."

"don't call yourself stupid, now."

you huffed and turned around, walking towards the stairways that led to the rooms, "i am gonna stop talking to you again!"

he laughed, taking in easy strides to walk after you, "just kidding. i promise. your moss, ever and forever more."

he met your pace, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. you gave him a wayward grin, "good."

he gave you one right back, "great."

"i'm tired."

"me too."

as you both disappeared back into your room, hand in hand, you made a comment about how much his hair grew and he responded with "like moss grows on a wet towel?". next morning you found yourself waking up to the swordsman's heavy snores and heavier body against you.

stupid moss-head.

a/n: i think i like how this turned out lol. hope it's okay @rkiveinmarvel and as always, thank you to anyone else who reads this <3

[godsfavdarling]

It’s all you

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x male!reader words: 2k summary: You and Spencer just came back from your birthday dinner, and your boyfriend loves to quote poetry to you! warnings: smut, fluff, grinding, no use of y/n (idk what else) a/n: This was a request! I love the idea! This was my first time writing male!reader! I hope it’s kind of good? The poem Spencer recites is “The Hug” by Thom Gunn. I had fun writing this! I hope y'all like it! If anyone cares I promise I will eventually come back to my spencelle fic (maybe once the semester is over at my uni)!!! <3

The evening had settled into a comfortable quiet as you and Spencer lounged on the couch, the soft hum of the city beyond the window a distant murmur. The gentle light of the room cast warm shadows, adding to the intimacy of the moment. 

Spencer sat with his legs tucked neatly under him, a relaxed smile on his face as he looked down at you, your legs draped across his lap. It was just after midnight, and you had both just come back from dinner with friends.

"Tonight was really something," you said, your voice a low murmur. "I think it's been a while since we all let loose like that… Since you let loose like that."

Spencer chuckled, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your calf. "It’s your birthday," he began, his voice soft and contemplative. "I’m happy you're happy."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his touch. "I’m happy. Very happy."

"Good," Spencer said, then leaned his head back, eyes on the ceiling as he spoke softly. 

“It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined

Half of the night with our old friend

Who'd showed us in the end

To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.

Already I lay snug,

And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sudden poetry in his words. "Huh?"

Spencer looked at you, his eyes filled with a tender sincerity. "It's a poem. Made me think of this moment right now."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, both from Spencer's words and the way his hand absentmindedly traced circles on your thigh. There was something about Spencer that captivated you. 

Most people wouldn't expect him to quote romantic poems; they saw only the genius profiler, the encyclopedia of facts. But you knew the truth. Beneath his brilliant mind and analytical exterior, Spencer Reid was a romantic through and through.

He was perfect in his own unique way. His tousled hair, always slightly disheveled, and the way his eyes sparkled with excitement whenever he talked about something he loved, made your heart race. 

Spencer had a certain charm, an endearing blend of intellect and innocence. He was often clueless about the effect he had on you, and others, for that matter. His gestures of affection were genuine, uncalculated, stemming from pure love and admiration.

He had never harbored ill intentions; his love was pure and unwavering. He was the type to remember the smallest details about you (whether he wanted to or not he would always remember but still it was sweet).

As you lay there, your legs draped over his lap, you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky. Spencer's hand continued its gentle patterns on your thigh, his touch a soothing reminder of his presence. He looked at you, eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"You know," you began, your voice soft, "most people wouldn't consider you a romantic."

Spencer's brows furrowed slightly, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "Really? I never thought about it…”

You smiled, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "That's because you don't see yourself the way I do. You have this incredible way of making everything feel... special. Your love, it's like poetry in motion."

A faint blush crept up Spencer's cheeks, and he ducked his head, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I just... I want you to know how much you mean to me. Sometimes words are all I have."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "And your words mean the world to me, Spencer. You mean the world to me."

Spencer's eyes softened, his hand still tracing gentle patterns on your thigh. "You mean the worlds to me," he whispered.

You both laughed softly, the warmth of the moment making everything feel even more special.

"Do you remember the rest of that poem?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye as you shifted your position, straddling Spencer's lap.

Spencer's smile widened, his hands instinctively moving to your hips. "You know I do," he said, chuckling softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he looked at you, a blend of love and amusement. "Then, tell me. Start over." you urged, leaning in closer until your faces were just inches apart.

Spencer's eyes sparkled with the familiar light of his vast memory, but now there was something more—an awareness of the intimacy of the moment. 

"It was your birthday," he began again, his voice low and velvety.

“We had drunk and dined

Half of the night with our old friend

Who’d showed us in the end

To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.

Already I lay snug,

And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, both from his words and the way his hands gently squeezed your hips. There was something incredibly hot about the way Spencer quoted poetry, the way the words flowed effortlessly from his lips. He had never thought about it that way, but it drove you wild.

“I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,

Suddenly, from behind,

In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:

Your instep to my heel,

My shoulder-blades against your chest.”

"That's so hot," you murmured, unable to resist pressing your lips to his. The kiss started soft and tender, but quickly deepened as the heat between you grew. Spencer suddenly broke it and continued.

“It was not sex, but I could feel

The whole strength of your body set,

Or braced, to mine,

And locking me to you

As if we were still twenty-two”

You couldn't help but be drawn to the soft, now raspier timbre of Spencer's voice. It was like music to your ears, a melody that stirred something deep within you. With each whispered word, each gentle breath, you felt yourself falling further under his spell.

As Spencer's hand continued its soothing motion on your thigh, you leaned in closer, your lips trailing feather-light kisses along his neck. You could feel the heat rising between you, a slow burn of desire that intensified with each passing moment.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as you continued your ministrations. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within you. You moved your hips in time with your kisses, a silent rhythm of passion and longing.

“When our grand passion had not yet

Become familial.

My quick sleep had deleted all

Of intervening time and place.

I only knew

The stay of your secure firm dry embrace.”

Spencer's breath hitched as your lips found that sweet spot just below his ear, and you reveled in the small gasp that escaped his lips. Lost in the moment, you let yourself be consumed by the heady sensation of being so close to him.

You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, matching the rhythm of your own. He broke the kiss just long enough to look into your eyes, his breath coming in soft pants. 

"I never realized poetry could have this effect," he admitted, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You smiled, your hands cupping his face. "It's not just poetry, Spencer. It's you. The way you speak, the way you touch me... It's all you."

Spencer's eyes darkened with desire, and he pulled you into another kiss, more passionate than before. His hands explored your body with a newfound confidence, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through you.

With trembling hands, you began to unbutton Spencer's shirt, your fingers fumbling slightly with each small button. His breath caught in his throat as you peeled away the fabric, revealing the expanse of his chest beneath.

Spencer's touch was gentle yet firm as he helped you remove his shirt, his fingers grazing your skin with an electric intensity that sent shivers down your spine. With each article of clothing shed, the desire between you burned hotter, a relentless flame threatening to consume you both.

When it came time to remove your pants, you reluctantly pulled away from Spencer's embrace, causing him to emit a soft sigh at the loss of contact. You couldn't help but smile at his reaction, the affectionate gesture only fueling your desire further.

Quickly, you shed your own clothes, feeling a rush of exhilaration as you stood before Spencer completely exposed, completely vulnerable. 

But there was no fear in that vulnerability, only a deep sense of trust and intimacy that bound you together. With a shared understanding of each other's desires, you quickly helped Spencer shed his pants, eager to feel his skin against yours once more.

As the last barrier between you fell away, you were left completely exposed, your bodies laid bare before each other. But in that moment, there was no room for self-consciousness or doubt, only the raw, unbridled passion that pulsed between you.

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you lowered yourself back onto Spencer's lap, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulled you closer. 

The heat of his skin against yours sent sparks flying. And as your bodies came together in a tangle of limbs and desire, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the overwhelming need to be as close to each other as humanly possible.

You started to move your hips, the urgent rhythm of your movements causing your now hard cock to graze against Spencer's. He hissed in response, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through both of you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern as you pressed closer to him.

“Yes, please keep going,” Spencer murmured, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

With a nod, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him tightly against you as you resumed your grinding. His arms enveloped you in a strong embrace, his touch sending waves of heat radiating through your body.

The room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their desire, the air heavy with the intoxicating scent of your passion. The feel of Spencer's velvet skin against yours sent shivers down your spine, the sensation leaving you breathless and wanting more.

You were so close, the heat of your bodies pressing your cocks against your bellies, the friction sending sparks of pleasure. With each movement, you could hear the wet sounds of your bodies sliding against each other, the slickness of precum adding to the intensity of the moment. 

Beads of sweat formed on your skin, glistening in the dim light of the room as you both worked towards release.

Undeterred, you continued to grind against him, the need for release driving you forward. Spencer's gasps and moans filled the room, mingling with your own as you moved together in a frantic rhythm. Your hands roamed over each other's bodies, grasping and pulling, desperate for more of each other.

With each passing moment, the air filled with the scent of sex and sweat, the heady aroma only adding to the overwhelming desire. His hair became matted and messy, sticking to his skin as he lost himself in the heat of the moment.

And then, in a moment of pure ecstasy, you both tasted sweet release, your bodies tensing as you came together in a symphony of bliss. Waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and spent, your bodies still pressed together in a tender embrace.

As you caught your breath, the room seemed to spin around you, the world reduced to nothing but the two of you lost in the aftermath. 

There was nothing else in the world but the two of you, locked in a dance of desire and devotion. And as you pressed your lips to his, the world fell away, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of him.

[ajortga]

why try?

pairing: tara carpenter x fem reader

based off song request! thank you so much for your requests! many are being looked at now, another 3 are left to write. i'm not very good at song requests and i was actually feeling a little rushed this time, i just wanted to get this out there so i hope this can meet what you may have wanted.

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??; was wondering if you’d take a song fic request ? mainly asking because i was listening to why try by ariana grande and i thought it might be good with like tara i think , i hope ,,, im not sure anymore lmfao

-

You and Tara didn’t meet each other in the best way possible, you met on bad terms, especially since she crashed into you while running and spilt hot coffee on you, screaming an apology as she ran to who knows what class, not even looking back.

For that whole day your white shirt was now a caramel brown, making you a little frustrated.

Tara was walking to her film history class, her hair in a braided half up half down, basically huffing as she opened the door, as she looked for a seat, the only left was a seat one away from the window. 

A pretty girl with her headphones in sat next to her, scribbling on her notes and wow, her writing was so neat. It reminded her of the poems that lovers would write to each other in neat curvy lines back in the olden days. 

Then she looked down at her sweater, it looked like a coffee stain.

Wait, a coffee stain?

The pretty girl was you, the one she crashed into and accidentally spilt steaming coffee on your sweater while she was running late to her next class, not even being able to make the face as she turned a corner and was gone.

Your gaze shifted from your words to the girl standing in front of you, your warm eyes looking at her, then recognizing Tara as yours narrowed.

“You owe me a new shirt. That was eighty dollars.” You mumble, pointing to the stain on your shirt, your voice soft, but trying to be a little annoyed, sour, and angry, Tara found it adorable.

“I was late to class.” She shrugged, making a small laugh as she sat down.

“That doesn’t mean you can spill your steaming coffee on me, I think I got a rash.” You basically flipped her off without actually flipping her off.

She groaned, “Okay I’m sorry, that must’ve hurt. My name is Tara.”

“Y/N,” you said simply, your voice wispy, sounds like a sweet and pretty sound, Tara could listen to it for hours-

“I’m still mad at you,” You murmur, turning your head away from her as your hair draped over your notes, writing.

She scoffed, a little angry that you weren’t quite talking to her, more like talking to her about the situation that she forgot about.

“Are you always like this?” She said, smiling, a little sarcastically.

“You’re mean Tara,” You turn to her, head laying against your palm. “Can I not be a little upset that you stained my favorite sweater, and basically burned me with your flaming coffee, what a memorable way to know you right? You were already late, why not just take your time?”

Tara huffs, seeing you like a kitten that doesn’t get what they want, saving your sweetness for her and squeezing out a little bitterness. She nudges you on the shoulder, making you shift a little and let out a small quiet giggle.

“Whatever Tickles.”

“Don’t call me that Tiny.”

“Excuse you?”

“Don’t think that teasing won’t jump back at you Tiny Toe Tara!”

“Oh fuck you!” She says sarcastically, “You drive me insane!”

-

Tara was right, you do drive her insane, but not the way you thought of.

Who would’ve known that her mind was you every night before she went to bed, the way she could feel her cheeks heating when thinking of your face. Your hair. Oh god, please don’t get started with your smile. It drove her crazy, in that way where she has seen your face as you talked to someone, just realizing how much of a listener you are. A good one especially, she sees your eyes as you nod, the way you tilt your head in a conversation, fully immersed.

Tara always wanted to have someone listen to her. She was always listening to others, good listening or not, she never got it back.

There were days where she’d tell Sam the things you did, basically screaming as she says how annoying you are. But at the same time, Sam sees the way Tara’s eyes dilate when she talks about you, gushing all her words at once and scrambling some words.

“She sounds like someone you talk about a lot.” 

“Excuse you? She is hot! I mean not!”

“Have you ever seen what she looks like? I think I stare at her too much.”

“Why?”

“Oh pfft, because she’s an atrocious looking pretty looking ogre that I can’t help but feel sorry for how she looks.”

“Pretty looking?”

“Oh yeah. No! You’re getting it all wrong. Pretty looking ogre like her looks pretty like one of an ogre.”

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

-

You and Tara throw insults at each other, she hates them.

“My Tiny!”

“Tararific!”

You annoyed her to bits, she was annoyed at the fact that she was desperate to see you, to talk to you, to see you smile. She was angry that she just couldn’t hate you. Even with your silly personality, teasing remarks, and playful nudges, there were moments where she saw you being you. Seeing you feed stray cats on the sidewalk when she walked to her apartment, your headphones in as she sees your pretty figure asleep on your desk as you took soft breaths, or the way your eyes are different than any other, different in the way that it was special.

She was so lovesick, but she would go through that phase every time if it meant seeing you for a second.

Why try getting her feelings for you to rip?

Knowing that you could still make her heart skip?..

[myangelhaven]

These are my recommendations of HYUNJIN fics! It will be updated once in a while for new stories I have read. Hopefully the links work (lemme know if it doesn't)

Credits to the authors!! All information written is taken from the authors' post and has not been modified. Reminder that some fics are NOT for minors, so please read the key and avoid 18+ contents.

HAPPY READING!!

KEY

[❀]: fluff [𖦹]: humour [𖤓]: angst [☄]: sad [☾]:smut [⟡]:smau [✮]: my favs

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------HYUNJIN-------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

DRABBLES & SHORT FICS

ten things hwang hyunjin says when he thinks you’re asleep by @soobnny [❀]

Photobooth kisses by @neos127 [❀]

you're in the wind, i'm in the water by @astraystayyh [❀][𖤓][✮][f2l][unrequited but not]

The Kisses You Left (Marked My Soul) by @seo--changbin [❀][✮][soulmateau]

a drabble inspired by hyunjin's mole

Love potion by @ppiri-bahng [❀]

you try to slip Hyunjin a love potion thinking that he could never love you back

Waiting for us by @ppiri-bahng [𖤓][☄][happy ending][suggestive]

you’re afraid to let hyunjin love you, but he’d wait forever for you

Say yes to heaven by @astraystayyh [❀][𖤓]

seven minutes in heaven except you're heartbroken and hyunjin has a huge crush on you. angst and slightly suggestive in the end.

Say yes to me: after your seven minutes in heaven, hyunjin wants to plan out how he'll finally confess to you. except you come knocking on the door of his rented cabin unannounced. at 10:53 pm. the perfect time for love, he comes to learn.

Somebody else by @astraystayyh [𖤓][☄][ex2l][happy ending]

You and Hyunjin have broken up, guilt and blame simmering between you both. He doesn't care anymore, or so he thought. Then why does it hurt him to see you with someone else?

Untitled by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast [❀][𖤓][☾][e2l?]

Hwang Hyunjin is insufferable. You can't stand him despite the treacherous thoughts that cross your mind. Hyunjin decides to really call into question just how much you seemingly can't stand him.

Erubescent by @cle1024 [❀][𖤓][e2l]

why are my cheeks erubescent? i shouldn’t be feeling this way about you; i’m not supposed to trust you.  

Spilled tea by @quokkawritesarchive[☾][roommatesau]

Request: maybe like a hot roomate smut,? y/n and hyunjin are roomates for a while now but they barely interact and talk. one day late at night while y/n is drinking water in their shared kitchen (in just panties and a oversized shirt) hyunjin barges in for a midnight snack too (shirtless as he was sleeping) they both awkwardly bump into eachother seeing each other in such less clothing but they finally suck it up and have a good deep convo for the 1st time as roomates and they get to know a lot abt eachother. just to mention y/n is sitting on the kitchen counter while hyun is standing and the sexual tension arises mid convo. can this smut be limited to dry humping and tons of marking lolol

Honey's by @cbini [☾][sexshopowner]

Places, places! By @forlix [❀][𖤓][fwb?][idolhyunjin][suggestive] 1.3K

you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

Straykids soulmate aus by @sweetkpopmusings [❀][soulmate au] 1.3k

each soulmate has half a quote that is important to their relationship tattooed on their body.

Pretty cute by @scxrlettwxtches [❀] 1.6k

The moment Hwang Hyunjin snatched the unofficial confession from your desk (which he was definitely not supposed to read), you knew you were royally screwed.

It's a scream, baby! by @luvyeni [❀][☾][ghostfaceau][knifeplay] 1.7k

you can’t help but tease the man in the mask, that’s until he catches you

Mistletoe by @iinnie [❀][bff2l][mutual pining] 1.8k

pushing your feelings for him aside, you’re determined to get hyunjin under the mistletoe with his crush. what you’re not aware of, though, is that he’s crushing on you, his long-time best friend.

I didn't actually love you by @amelee23 [❀][✮] 3.1k

Your friends forced you to become part of a poetry club, and when you receive a task to write a poem about sadness, you realize you accidentally write it about Hyunjin, the guy you had a crush on and tried to forget about. And he finds out.

Gleam and glitter by @jishyucks [❀][f2l][richkidau] 3.4k

You’ve quickly established that no one at this damn charity gala cares about the event’s purpose. They were just there to party. And you wanted nothing else but to leave; alternatively, in which Hyunjin saves you from your misery to see the city’s Christmas lights.

Just like you by @milkandhyunnie [𖤓][☾][exes] 3.7k

you’re trying to move on from your toxic ex boyfriend when you run into him at the club—only to find out that he has a brand new girlfriend that looks just like you

Third wheel by @cb97percent [☾☾][3some] w/ bangchan 4.1k

It would be wrong if you were attracted to one of your best friends since they are in a relationship, but you don't know what the protocol is when you have the hots for both of them.

Boy next door by @strayed-quokka [❀][𖤓][☾][✮][chf2l][brother's bff2l] 4.9k

you’d known hyunjin for most of your life, introduced as a friend of your brothers and quickly someone who cared for you. he was there as you grew up, driving you home from parties, getting you out of lectures from your parents, or checking on you when your brother couldn’t. 

so when you’d asked the favor of renting his extra room for a year whilst you adjusted living in a new city for university, your brother didn’t even blink or question it. 

maybe he should’ve. 

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄more to come!⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

☆-------Hyunjin's masterlist || skz masterlist--------☆

[pinkthrone445]

Will I ever know what it feels to hold you close?

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender :Fluff fluff fluff

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary:You and Mel meet on a dating app, but due to a bug in the app, you match even though you live many miles apart.

Author's note: Special fic for @neverfindmegone ♥️ for her birthday!

I hope you like this, I wanted to make it the most special possible for you to make you feel as special as you made me feel last week for my birthday, but it was a little bit hard to capture your soul and heart in just a fic, thank you for everything you do for me. Happy birthday sweetheart and enjoy. Cherry!

You were staring at the giant mirror against the wall, your foot was tapping on the floor, your stomach felt like it wanted to come out of your mouth, you've never looked so beautiful and felt so nervous and decomposed at the same time. Your cell phone that was on the dresser rang warning that you had a notification, with trembling hands you took it and smiled when you saw who sent the message

-♠️ MyMissPoker ♥️: "Hello my love, I'm dying to see you, I miss you so much... I hope in a day like this you can feel how much I love you even when I'm not there"-Melissa had sent you a message that immediately calmed your nerves and you couldn't help but remember with happiness how you came to know each other years ago, through a first message like this...

You remembered how you got to talk to each other 5 years ago

You were having lunch at work when your cell phone vibrated with a notification, confused you grabbed your cell phone while the others were talking to each other.

"Miss Poker has sent you a message" the notification said

-MissPoker: "Hello, I love the pictures you have posted, you have talent, and those little poems were pure perfection"-The message read and you frowned. Not long ago, you had downloaded a dating app as your friends had insisted because it had been a while since you had dated anyone. You agreed to do it, but if they let you choose which app it would be. In the end you signed up for one that was very anonymous, the only thing you entered was some personal interests and some photos of things you liked next to a alias, you didn't enter your real name or photos of yourself, and the app showed you people with the same interest that were close by.

The truth is that you had signed up for that one because you thought that no one would talk to you with the photos you had posted, that's why you had been so surprised to receive a notification on your cell phone. It was true that you had uploaded some pictures of the things you painted in your spare time, but you never thought that anyone would like it.

You carefully opened the profile of the person who had spoken to you, in her photos you could see a dog, a photo of some books, another of a baseball field, some cooking pictures, a dance hall and some pictures of the moon.

Curious, you decided to open the messages and answer her

-Littlechef(you):"Thank you...nice pictures too, I'm guessing you like cooking?" - You asked softly laughing about the silly interaction

-MissPoker:"Yes, I looove cooking. You too? Or you have that name in honor or ratatouille?" - The woman answered and you laughed looking at your phone

-Littlechef:"I'm a chef actually..."-You replied a little nervously, not knowing why

-MissPoker:"Isn't the funny thing about this app the anonymous part?.. But since you told me what you do for a living I'll tell you what I do too, I'm an elementary school teacher, the best in the whole school" - The woman replied and you stared at the message for a few seconds

-Littlechef: "the funny thing about this is get to know each other without knowing how we look and let ourselves influence by it... How we will get to know each other if we don't talk about ourselves?" - You replied and she sent a laughing emoji

-MissPoker: "you got me there... I'm Melissa btw, nice to meet you" - she replied and you wondered if it would be right to give your name to a complete stranger, but it was what you first did when you met someone in person, so you thought it wouldn't hurt to do it here

-Littlechef: "I'm (Y/N), nice to meet you too" - You replied without having the slightest idea how important a complete stranger would become to you.

From that day forward the conversation began to flow, from casual conversations to deeper ones, and there was no longer a day when you didn't talk to her.

You also remembered those first feelings for her even if you denied at the moment

Her notifications made you let out that silly laugh every time, like a child does when he gets into some mischief. You were always checking your phone. Her notification brightened your day in a surprising way and made you happy how easy everything was with her, there was always a topic of conversation and she always knew what to say when you got quiet. She was amazing.

Just talking to her made you feel a warmth in your soul that you didn't really know how to handle, to be honest it scared you a little, you had been hurt before and you had sworn to avoid relationships at least for a while, but everything was so perfect that it was hard not to feel something for her even when you haven't seen her face yet. Her way of being was the perfect compliment for you.

You remembered the first time you saw how she was

One day you decided it was time to forget the anonymous part and put a face to the name, so you exchanged photos. You were really nervous about that, what if she thought you were ugly? You knew she was older and that didn't bother you, that even turn you on a little bit, but what if she wasn't what you expected?.. You were so nervous and scared for the unknown but at the same time so thrilled to finally see her... So you each send 3 pictures to each other.

If you had fallen in love with her personality, her face was something else and made you fall even more, she was perfection itself. For God's sake, what a beautiful woman, her hair with those soft curls, her beautiful smile, her eyes shining in a particular way that made you feel warmth and peace, and her sharp cheeks looked like they had been formed by an artist with a chisel. If we are the creation of a God, she was his masterpiece, pure perfection. And let's not talk about her body and the things it made you feel...

She told you repeatedly how beautiful you were too, but you felt like a worm every time you saw her pictures again. You were so lucky.

Also, after the photos, you exchanged numbers too and you immediately deleted the dating app. Your heart was already hers even if you didn't knew at that moment.

You also remembered your first sad moment together

One particular day, you shared a picture of a place where you were painting, you had finished work and went to a particular place you liked to eat something and paint a little. You and Mel had been talking about meeting in person, but that day everything changed and your hopes fade a little. When she asked what you were doing, you told her and decided to send a picture of the place and what you were creating . You never expect Mel's answer

-"You don't live in Phily?"-Her comment left you a little bit lost and confused. The app was supposed to connect you with people who were close to you, but something went wrong and somehow you and Mel were able to see each other's profile even though you lived veeery far away.

You had never thought about it, you had both assumed you lived nearby but you were wrong. That day you both wondered if it made sense to keep talking and making plans to meet each other if you lived so far away, but after much consideration, you decided to see where all this was going despite the distance and kept talking.

Thank goodness you decided to do it, because fate had big plans for you. Love knows no distances and would continue to grow until your heart and hers came together.

You also remembered the ways in which she was always present even when she was far away

You decided to call her, you were about to have a panic attack, your country wasn't very stable and your job was laying off people because it wasn't enough to pay everyone. Mel listened patiently to all your fears and worries

-"What if I'm next? One of my friends was laid off and she had been there longer than me. I really like this job and I don't want to lose it, Mel. I don't know if I have the good qualities to find another one. I'm really scared" - You commented to the redhead while you were crying, while it hurt her to see you like this, she wouldn't let you be sad for long and she wouldn't let you alone on this

-"Hey Hon... Breath please... Let's not get ahead of ourselves, you're an incredible worker, you do everything in that place, I've seen how many amazing things you do, you're worth a lot and I don't think you'll be taken out. And if they do, you'll get a job in no time, you've got incredible talent in the kitchen and doing so many other things, you've got a good time of experience and that helps for a new job, you'll do well and I will be here to help you... But again, let's focus on the present, you still have work, stay focused on that, nothing bad will happen, Okey?"-The redhead whispered, and you nodded a little more calmly when you heard her voice, even if it was on the phone.

In the end she was right, the layoffs stopped and you even got a raise. Like that occasion, she was helping you through every difficult moment.

You remember all the things she did to be present for you even on the distance

Mel figured out how to use her cards to deliver food or snacks you liked.

She also learned how to play some games that you showed her to play with you, it was very funny to hear her insult while you played war games against other people, you almost every time won at uno.

Sometimes you would make video calls and watch movies together even at a distance.

And every night she would call you and tell you things about her day until you fell asleep together.

Every step you took there was her holding your hand and encouraging you, helping you to become a better version of yourself.

You even introduced her to some of your friends via video call and she did the same, so you met Barbara, Janine and Jacob.

One day the two of you decided to formalize things when you noticed how the talks were no longer just a talk of friends, but of something more. Mel wasn't one to believe in long-distance relationships, but somehow everything was working out better than expected.

Time passed with countless calls, photos, videos, sexual calls, and many many messages and audios.

Every once in a while you would send her a package of things for her and she would buy you things too.

There were days when you missed her presence even when you'd never really had her around, she always said that she was right there with you, but that didn't made the distance easier. It's weird to explain, but you can miss someone you've never meet.

You remembered how after months of missing her, the two of you finally met for the first time

When your work and hers allowed it, you agreed to travel to the same place to meet in person, she traveled with Barbara and you with your best friend.

The first hug, that first hug was something that was etched in your memory. You waited for her at the airport because you got there first, when she finally saw you she dropped everything and hugs you so tightly, no a word was shared, but you remember how everything was said in silence. Her hands fit perfectly in the hollow of your back, your height fit perfectly with hers, her perfume was the richest thing you have ever smelled in your life and finally your heart felt at peace.

You spent a week together, having amazing sex, walking, cuddling, taking the opportunity to sleep and bathe together, creating memories and making plans for the future, you even stole a pair of shirts to take home and have her smell close.

That was the first of many trips, every time you had the opportunity you got together to see each other even for a few days.

Your soul craved her in a way that never happened before to you.

Back to the present

A sigh left your lips as you remembered all those things, thousands of things had happened in between those years, even some arguments, but everything was fixed and you stayed together through all. Remembering all of that, remembering how you are able to feel Mel's love in everything she did from day one, made you cry lost in your mind and memories, missing her and feeling sad for some reason.

The sound of a new notification took you out of your thoughts and with your trembling hands you wiped your tears a little and picked up your cell phone

-♠️ MyMissPoker ♥️: "Hey sweetheart, is everything okay?.."-Mel sent you the first message many minutes ago, but when you started to remind everything that had happened over the years, you had forgotten to answer her and she got worried

-You: "no... I miss you, I need you here, I don't want you to be far away specially in a day like this" - You answered and she immediately called you, as soon as you answered she could hear your soft sobs

-"Baby, what happened?" - The redhead asked very worriedly-"I'm here, why are you crying? Are you having second thoughts? Did I do something wrong?"-You sighed trying to calm your crying and be able to answer

-"you are perfect, but I need you, I need you to feel you close" - You whispered in a weak voice

-"I'll go there right now, I'm just a few blocks away and I'm mostly ready, wait for me" - Mel answered and you heard her take her keys and her sister screamed in the background for her to come back

-"But it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding" - You whispered

-"It's also bad luck that one of the brides is crying of sadness in their special day... Besides, we have been apart too much time already, God will understand..."-she joked and you sobbed and laughed at the same time

-"Your sister will kill you" - You whispered laughing when you heard the screams

-"We will figure something out, wait for me, I'm coming. I love you"-She responded quickly, and you heard her sister get in the car with her

-"I love you more" - You answered and waited for her to arrive. After a few minutes you felt a soft knock on the door and then Mel's sister came in with a blindfold for your eyes and another for the redhead, so you and Mel could be together without seeing each other and without the bad luck.

Seconds after putting on the blindfold you felt how arms hugged your waist, you immediately hugged her again hiding in her neck letting out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. You could tell she was almost ready because her dress was pressed against you and her hair was up. You finally felt safe again

-"Thank you for coming...I missed you" - You whispered and held her tighter hiding as much as possible in the crook of her neck

-"I missed you too... For a second I got scared that you were having second thoughts... I love you so much, I'm sure you are gorgeous right now" - The redhead kissed your forehead and held you until you calmed down completely, even though you couldn't see her, she was filling all your senses and that was all you need it to feel better. After a few minutes she kissed you forehead again-"Ready?" - She asked and you nodded while still hugging her

-"Ready...I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together" - You whispered kissing her

-"I'll waiting for you" - She answered and you let her go to finish arranging the last details to be perfect on your most special day, your wedding and the beginning of a live together.

[kyrviu]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞

prompt: realizing they’ve fallen for you

⭒pairings: wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, and xiao x gn! reader.

⭒genre: fluff

⭒warnings: none!

⭒authors note: happy new year! long time no see, I took a week off right after finals because I desperately needed it lmao uni kicked my ass this semester. now that I'm back the requests are open! not to mention that I’ll be working on 3 fics after this one. in the meantime, please enjoy ♡

wanderer

“i simply can't stop thinking about them, it's driving me crazy”.

when you're not looking, he can't help but sneak glances at you. his eyes move to every little detail about you, from your eyes to your smile to the way your hair moves in the wind. he could sit for hours sitting and admire you.

your heart starts to race as you feel his eyes on you. you contemplate his apparent interest in you. 'why is he staring at me' you think to yourself. you switch your attention to him and prepare to ask him if anything is wrong. to prevent you from catching him, he will quickly retaliate by turning his head away. however, you could still see redness edging its way up his cheeks and ears. 

everyone is aware that the wanderer rarely laughs or smiles. he maintains a constant, strong, and mysterious demeanor. the wanderer's mystery can be traced to the fact that he has encountered more pain and sorrows in life than other people.

however, he occasionally lets his strong exterior slip when he is alone. he would unwind and occasionally he talks about his adventures with you and things he saw along the way halfway through the conversation he even grins in your direction.

then it hits him…

the wanderer is in love with you.

kazuha

"hold my hand"

everyone around you knows you two belong to each other, It almost seems too nice to be true how well attuned you are to one another. You are permanently attached to his side, otherwise, he would start looking for you. He can't stand to be apart from you even for a second.

however, if only kazuha would realize.

if only kazuha would realize that friends don’t play flirtatiously with each other. There are moments when it goes on for too long and you can't know if it's a joke or not anymore, making you both stutter and shyly look away from one another, hoping your hearts would calm down.

if only he’d realize that friends don’t feel sparks around them whenever one of you touches the other accidentally. Whether it’s a quick graze or when he holds your hand longer than usual while walking around.

without a doubt, friends do not compose haikus and poems about one another. whenever he wrote a haiku about you or about something special you witnessed together, he would always read to you quietly as you were curled up by his side

Why hasn't he noticed that what we do is more than simply friends? you keep wondering. It's quite frustrating not to know where you guys stand anymore since the lines are so blurred. As soon as you notice him moving towards you while smiling gently at the sight of you, all of your thoughts immediately scatter away. you would rather stay like this than ruin everything you guys have with one another.

Little did you know he’s secretly loved you all along.

tighnari

“ don’t overwork yourself for my sake (y/n)”.

even though tighnari is a researcher & a forest ranger words and communication aren’t his best forte especially when he’s around you. to him it’s the little gestures he does for you that speak louder than any form of words would.

always has your best interests in mind. He always makes you a cup of coffee whenever you are helping him with his research, working through the night.

tighnari would ask if you were all right when he notices that you started rubbing your eyes from exhaustion.

However, despite the coffee, you still managed to fall asleep in the midst of all of your papers and research that piled up at your desk. tighnari smiles as he makes his way over to you and drapes a blanket over your sleeping body.

watching how peaceful and comfortable you seem to be sleeping. smiling softly, he leans down and whispers into your ears. “sweet dreams, my love”. you are unsure if you heard him clearly or not due to how worn out you are, thus you decide to disregard it for now.

one thing for sure is you both are obliviously pinning for one another.

xiao

"i wanna show you something".

it takes place during the lantern rite, similar to the wanderer, xiao would steal looks your way to admire how the lantern illuminated your face and cast a soft glow into your eyes. as the two of you were walking around you can feel the air filled with the spirit of the festival and the enthusiasm of those around you.

little kids are seen rushing around with lanterns. you also notice that many of your friends are gathered in smaller groups to enjoy the festivities. when they wave at you and xiao, you smile to yourself the joy on their faces rubs off on you making you wave back eagerly. 

since practically everyone attending the lantern rite is either accompanied by people who are close to them or couples, there is still tension in the air between the two of you. however, as much as xiao means to you. you and him are just friends, right?

you both attempt to avoid crowds as much as you can, therefore xiao suggests a location that not many people are aware of. He whispers softly, "you can see everything from up here”. It was a location on top of a mountain next to large buildings where you could view the entirety of liyue harbor, the mountains in the distance, and the sea shimmering from all of the lights that decorate the sky. 

perhaps its the atmosphere of the festivities, or maybe it's the reality that he is by himself with you, or maybe the awe on your face as you take in the scenery is all he needs to see to know he loves you.

[mandarinmoons]

Annabel Lee - Spencer Reid

Hello! This lil' fic was inspired by a video of Matthew reading the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe found here !

Summary: When you're not able to sleep Spencer to throw out ways to help you, but turns out the solution was right in front of you

Warnings: none

I haven't written in a while so pls let me know your thoughts!

For the past week, every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you’d be kept up for hours on end. Tossing from one side to the other, trying out an array of different positions to feel comfortable enough to finally catch some rest, nothing would help.

When the issue was brought forth to Spencer he would list out an endless list of suggestions to try and find something that could eventually work

“Hmm let’s see, have you tried herbal-”

“Yes Spencer.”

“Okay, what about…”

You felt your thoughts drift off and eyes grow heavy as Spencer kept listing off different solutions for you to try out in hopes of finally getting some rest. A moment later you were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a soft shake on your shoulder and were brought back to reality, “You okay Y/N?”. You blinked a few times and gazed at the concerned boy in front of you, realizing that the answer was there right in front of you and a small smile tugged on your lips, “I’m better than ever Spence. I have an idea.”

That night, Spencer came over to your apartment. The weather forecast had predicted heavy rain and when Spencer entered your apartment, you could well see that it had come true. Spencer’s hair was matted to his forehead from the rain and you were surprised he managed to walk all the way there because the rain had completely drenched the lenses of his glasses. You ran to get him a towel and chuckled as you ruffled the fabric over his hair, causing him to smile lightly. 

After fetching him a warm blanket and making him a cup of hot chamomile tea, you both laid in your bed. Spencer brought over a poetry book to read to you and your eyes widened with curiosity. You just thought that you both would talk until you eventually ended up passing out, seeing that Spencer’s voice seemed to soothe you so much to the point of relaxation, but hearing Spencer's idea caused your heart to do a little flip. You thought that it was adorable.

So there you were, head resting in Spencer’s lap as he held a book of various poets' works in his hand. He would occasionally glance down at you and smile sweetly seeing how relaxed you seemed. The piece that finally did it for you was one by Edgar Allan Poe.

As the poem went on you felt your heartstrings being played with so hard that you thought you felt tears prick to your eyes. And the strangest thing of all was that when you looked over at Spencer, you swore you saw him look into your eyes as he kept reading it out loud.

“Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,” 

That was it, those were the words that melted your heart and caused your breath to go shaky. A few lines later Spencer finished the poem and he placed the book down and turned his attention to you. His brows furrowed upon seeing your glassy eyes. His hand brushed against your cheek in a comforting way, “Hey you okay?”. 

You nodded and shook your head lightly, “It was a really nice poem, thank you”. Spencer smiled and poked your cheek lightly which caused a small giggle to fall from your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

You smiled up at him and poked his cheek in return, “Without a doubt.”

You can find my masterlist here! x

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

[tinykonig]

König x Reader Headcanons

this is my first post!!!! im so excited!! i have had an extremely annoying day and just wanted to write these down to cheer me up a bit- hope you guys like them as well :) some of these are self indulgent so forgive me. im writing my könig fic but its taking a while since finals are upon me :/ Warnings: NSFW at the bottom, I put an indicator before :)

He is an extremely active listener. If he’s standing and you are talking to him, he has his feet pointed towards you and his head ducked down a bit so he can hear you better since he’s so tall. Nods along to whatever you say and generally has attentive body language

Remembers the smallest details from any conversation. You tell him a story about your childhood pet and months later he will casually say the pet’s name in another conversation. It always takes you off guard a little

When he realizes he likes you, he panics. Writes frantically in his journal for about 3 hours about it.

You catch on to his little crush pretty quickly, given how he lingers near you more than anyone else and gets shy at the smallest interactions

When you finally confess to him that you feel similarly he is so incredibly happy but flustered. Had to take a cold shower that night to calm himself down

Gives you little gifts all the time (one of his love languages for sure). A drawing he did, a flower he saw on the side of the road, some candy he brought from home, etc

Also collects anything you may gift him. Hoards them and protects them like they are living and breathing

Goes through them on nights when you two have to be apart. He can be extremely sentimental

If you are an artist in anyway, he is your HYPE MAN. Hangs up your drawings/poems/photographs, whatever it may be, in his little dorm room

He melts if you cook/bake him something homemade. Like seriously might get choked up. He loves the smell of baked goods, it always makes him feel right at home. You always try to bake him something on his birthday and he is over the moon about it

Protective but knows you can handle yourself most of the time. Despite his introverted nature he will defend you loudly and aggressively if he senses that it’s necessary

He loves any little weird quirks you may have. You love the smell of clean laundry? He thought it was so cute when you would sniff the shirts coming out of the dryer

OH OH OH LOVES THE THING WHERE YOU HAVE ONE HEADPHONE AND HE HAS THE OTHER AND YOU LISTEN TO THE SAME MUSIC AND JUST HANG OUT. oh man

Accidentally bumps into/knocks you with his hands or arms soooo often. He’s a big boy who doesnt quite have spatial awareness sometimes

He feels so bad everytime it happens and just cradles your face in his hands and apologizing so rapidly (it never really hurts but you like the attention so)

If you dont know german he will give you a “german word of the day” and will say it to you the entire day in context until you guess what it means

Is so excited when you guess right

Not gonna be into PDA it’s too much for him. He’s just constantly your shadow 24/7 in public. The most is having a hand on your back or shoulder so you don’t get lost in a crowd

In private however. Clingiest boy alive (his other love language is physical touch)

Lives for you laying your head on his lap. Plays with your hair or traces your features while he talks to you about his day or a book he started reading

Has the most expressive eyes in the world

I headcannon him as ginger, his hair slightly shaggy (haircuts give him anxiety so he does it himself when it starts to get in his eyes) and wavy

light freckles on his cheeks and across his nose!!!

With his blue eyes he is truly such a picture of beauty

He isn’t super weird about showing his face to you. When you start hanging out outside of work duties he doesn’t wear it, and appreciates that you dont bring attention to it

Sometimes you make a little comment about him being pretty and his face is on FIRE but he just quietly says thank you and has a little smile on his face

Compliments you shyly but often, will not make eye contact with you when he says it

Writes you super heartfelt notes that he will leave you to find because he can better express himself that way

Don’t get me wrong though he has his moments where he can be very very cocky!!

For example: right after a successful mission when he is still riding the adrenaline rush, he is much touchier with you even in front of others

If you need him to reach something he loves that and gets a little power trip. Teases you and makes you jump to get it from him a bit

If he notices that he made YOU blush, wooo boy he loves to tease you. “Did you like that, hmm?”, with a sickly sweet smile

NSFW BELOW

The first time was extremely soft and slow and sweet. He was very eager but very unsure of himself. Didn’t know where to put his hands. You had to guide him and reassure him and he didn’t last very long but it was sweet

He whimpered the entire time

After that, he slowly gains confidence and learns what works for you two

Still likes for you to be in control mostly, with rare soft dom moments

Will try almost anything once!!

Loves praise. Too insecure for degradation and absolutely can’t degrade you either

Loves to eat pussy sooooo much… You have a bad day? He’s on his knees in the shower with one of you thighs on his shoulder. Its your birthday? He got you like 9 presents but the finale is cumming on his tongue 4 times

He fucking growls sometimes when he’s overstimulated and its the greatest thing to grace your ears

Says “I love you” like a chant when he’s cumming in you

Wants to see your face the whole time

Ironically he is great at making eye contact in the bedroom

He has the sexiest thighs in the world

[dead3ve]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing! I was wondering, if you are interested, could you write a Todd Anderson x shy female reader where they go on a picnic and when the sun begins to set, they read each other poetry they wrote for one another? They would be dating at that point! Thank you so much!

my first request babyy!! thank you so much <33

Todd Anderson x fem!reader

Summary: In the beginning, Todd was shy, closed off and cautious around girls. All of a sudden, he's found himself bathing in the glow of a sunset, reciting his written words to who he wrote about.

Warnings: they/them pronouns used. no use of y/n. First Todd Anderson fic. Reader referred to as girl. kissing

It had taken Todd weeks to flirt with his partner. Initially, the girl was the one to take Todd's hand, or hold his face, or pull him into the kiss. Todd's partner was the one to make him flustered. He rarely ever saw them blushing because of his actions.

However, Todd was witnessing his girl blushing, looking down and fiddling with the gingham picknick blanket as Todd recited one of his longer poems to them. They couldn't look at him, due to the heat in their face and beat of their heart, so they looked at the setting sun. The poem was about their relationship. It was about the first time they snuck out of Welton together without the other Dead Poets. Todd's partner took him dancing. It was the first time Todd had felt brave.

The girl remembered the way Todd was able to hold their waist without having to ask. He was able to nuzzle into their neck without hesitation as they slow danced. It was the first time Todd kissed them. The first time they were kissed by Todd. Not the other way around.

Once he finished his poem, Todd looked up from his notebook and looked at the blushing girl. Their head was looking towards the sun and their lips were smiling. Thier left hand was resting on Todd's thigh. He could feel their joy from their fingers.

"I didn't know you wrote about me, Todd." They spoke in whispers. The way Todd usually spoke when he was feeling anxious or shy.

Todd put his hand out and pulled their face back to his. Something they had done to him many times. "I write about things that inspire me." He smiled at their red cheeks, giggling slightly as he talked. He enjoyed the girl's growing shyness.

His partner scooted closer to Todd, making sure that their legs were touching. Todd put an arm around their waist once they were settled. He hadn't felt in control before he met his girl. They allowed him to have that in between his confident friends and his careless parents.

"I wrote that short story about you." They'd admitted it into Todd's shoulder. Their voice was muffled into the knitted jumper. "Mr Keating asked me about it after he marked it." They spoke the rest of it into Todd's jumper as well. Their warm breath kissed Todd's skin through his jumper.

"Really?" Todd spoke into their hair. "What did he say?" He asked, speaking into their hair. At that he began pressing kisses onto their hairline.

His partner squeezed themself into Todd's chest, turning their face up to Todd's to receive a kiss on their lips, blush still bright on their face. Todd smiled and did what they'd silently asked for, leaning his head down to press his lips to theirs. Todd wrapped his arms around them, settling into the kiss.

"Mr Keating told me I was good for you. That we were good for each other." They were mumbling against Todd's lips. "Said he hadn't seen you so vocal in his class." They went back to kissing Todd once they finished their sentence.

Todd thought about the lesson while they kissed. He'd only said two sentences because he had answered two questions. Todd hadn't really said anything in comparison to his friends and classmates. He pulled away from the kiss suddenly, making a small smacking sound from the pair's lips. Todd looked his partner in the eye.

"I only said two things that lesson." Todd asked raising an eyebrow. He had been quiet, how was he being loud?

"Exactly. That was more than usual, handsome." They brought back their flirty charm saying this. His partner pulled Todd's face back down to theirs, making sure the kiss continued throughout the sunset, wanting to bathe in the warmth of the final rays of sun, and Todd Anderson's tight embrace.

[jo-harrington]

Magnificum et Horribillis (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Philosophical Themes, Allusion to Chronic Pain and Depression, Vague Smut, Life and Death as Abstract Themes, Suicidal Ideation, Big Feelings Ahead BEWARE

Note: This started as a poem for @somnambulic-thing but it evolved into fic. Because I kept writing more and of course it did. Will also give a little shout to @deathbecomesthem because they’re always here for my little sad girl writing.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

There are more bad days than good.

You are more bad than good.

A nidus of wicked thoughts and words and feelings that wrack through you, body and soul.

Pain.

Some ancient angel or large primordial bird put you together one brittle, misshapen twig at a time until, from the abstract, came you. And since then, you were a bitter pill that seemed to poison and infect those around you. It could have been the end for you time and again but the void spat you out, unable to stomach you.

Even Satan rejected you.

Or so it seemed.

The thoughts always weighed heavily on your mind, inescapable. But that's why you were where you were, staring somewhat unseeingly at the person across from you.

A stranger in a waiting room, fiddling with new patient paperwork.

“Edward?” The receptionist called.

“Eddie,” he insisted as he turned toward the little window. “It’s Eddie.”

"I forgot to give you Dr. Bishop's questionnaire."

He’d shot you a tight-lipped smile as he’d stood and you let it bounce off of you, not out of disinterest but from too-slow reflexes. Everything about you was too slow, layered in sludge, and corrupt. You blinked and watched him then, from your perch, waiting for your own name to be called. Watched the heavy way he carried himself. Legs slightly weak, whether his muscles couldn’t support his body or his troubles...you couldn’t be sure.

Possibly both.

Beautiful and broken.

You recognized that in him.

Beautiful because he was broken.

Just like you.

Dr. Crane opened the door and called your name now. You offered Eddie a similar smile as you walked past him.

Offer him a silent kindness.

You didn't know it yet, but this was the reason you were turned away from the gates of hell.

A second chance. For both of you.

It would be alright.

---

You held your hands out over the sticky table beside his. Comparing them. Size, shape, rings, and shakiness.

Yours worse because of your nerves, his because of his pills. Somehow he still can keep his still enough for his job at the sign shop. And you when you’re typing reports or writing up notes during meetings.

“It’s because they have a purpose,” he said sagely. “When we’re doing things they have a purpose so they know they can’t shake.”

“When did you get to be so smart?” You tease.

“Shut up.”

The waitress comes with your lunches and your hands try to retreat to your side of the booth but Eddie grabs one of them and runs his thumb over your knuckles as the plates get dropped and drinks refilled.

She comes with one more dish and begins the pomp and circumstance. You shoot a glare across the table at him; he always had to have some kind of spectacle about him, even now that he was, as he proclaimed, older and “mellowed out.”

You could only imagine how he was as a kid or in high school.

“I ordered flaming saganaki while you were in the bathroom,” he explained.

“I hate you.”

“You know you’ll have some.”

And you did.

These were special times. Cherished times between the two of you, where the dread of the world couldn’t reach you through the buffer of forks clacking on plates and ambient noise of people talking around you at other tables.

Late nights with Eddie at the Greek diner; holier than church.

“You know,” he said tentatively between mouthfuls of food. “You don’t have to have a purpose.”

“No?”

“I thought so for a while after…” he trailed off and you shifted in your seat.

“You don’t need to talk about it.” You told him. “We agreed that we were starting fresh. Together.”

“Yeah but I know how you are in there,” he grinned and tapped the side of his head. “Thinking of how you can be more purposeful, so maybe you’ll forget everything going on. I thought that way too, after everything. Keep busy. Play the guitar. Make the effort to see my friends. Otherwise they’d forget me. And all it did was…make me tired. Did too much, burned myself out.

“To rest is sometimes the greatest purpose you can have.”

Eddie shot a pointed look across the table.

“Ok,” you nodded. He was right. You had been thinking that. Fleetingly.

His brow got tighter.

“What? I said ok?!” You held your hands out. It was more than a fleeting thought. He grabbed fries off your plate and shoveled them into his mouth to distract from the awkward moment.

But he got his point across.

He knew you too well. Even after a few weeks. Two sides of the same coin.

Was it too early to say you loved him?

---

You’re so strong.

It echoes in your head as you lay there, too tired to scream and cry anymore, too much feeling, too much emotion.

You are simply too much for your body.

It was a bad day.

You told that to your mom on the phone and she came over anyway. "You're stronger than anyone realizes, even you." What a slap in the face. You didn’t need to be strong. You needed to be left alone to rot here for a little while. Broken body, broken mind, broken soul.

She didn't understand that, she never did.

And so you screamed it at her.

The culmination of how she could fix your life, you just needed to listen to her, when she refused to listen to you. You had always been this abstract concept. A doll for her to dress up and play pretend with, not a human.

Years of pain you didn't mean to reflect back at her, but you did anyway.

Because you were weak.

Because it was a bad day.

"Something's gotta change," she shook her head as she stormed out. "There's something seriously wrong with you."

You knew that.

But it still hurt.

And then she called Eddie.

"She's just worried about you," he laid down next to you.

"Can she stop?" you asked. "Her obligation to me is over. She's not a mother anymore. She's been released from her sentence."

"Wayne--"

"I don't want to hear about Wayne," you wrenched your eyes shut, squeezed them shut, because you could feel the poison building in you again and you knew that you couldn't control it if the beast deep inside you wanted to attack. You couldn't do that to him. "Wayne is great. And even if he wasn't, it's not the same. So please..."

"I just..."

You turn and stare at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Please Eddie."

He's never seen you like this; you wanted to hide this part of yourself from him. You wouldn't blame him if he ran away.

And as your body gave up on you again, you expected the bed to shift and the door to squeak open and slam shut.

But it never did.

"Alright," he whispered and shifted closer. Not touching. Just...closer. The heat of him brushing the length of your body. Enough for now. "I get it."

---

If the diner was holy, this was a place of insurmountable divinity.

Whispered words floating over skin and evaporating.

An orgasm secondary to a confession.

The closeness to one another, in body and in spirit, meant more than anything.

“I thought it was going to be over,” he muttered against your cheek. “I wanted it to be over. Finger on the trigger. A friend stopped me. And I hated him for it.”

You’re silent as he uses you, just as you’ve used him a hundred times. You open your mouths and swallow one another’s sorrows. It’s your own form of soothing and healing. Like licking a wound.

A doctor, a therapist, a friend could only hear so much. This was an act of consuming…becoming…

Was it healthy? Probably not.

But neither of you were.

“I’m exactly what they said I am.”

You feel his tears now. Or yours. They’re one in the same here. You are one in the same. Magnificent and horrible, the two of you.

“I’m nothing. I’m a freak. I’m a monster.”

“You’re my monster,” you whisper.

He spilled himself inside of you and all of his sorrow, expelled, warmed you from within.

---

You stared at the casket.

There was no hole in your chest.

No pain, no fear, no anger, no sorrow.

No numbness either.

Simply peace.

Death was peaceful. An old friend. Even if He wasn’t here for you this time.

You and Eddie had joked, the many times when you dragged him and the single time he dragged you to funerals like these, how yours would be.

Everyone mourned in their own way. You both liked to laugh.

“I want the full weekend at Bernie’s treatment,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Call my friends Gareth and Jeff and have them walk me around the room.”

“I want,” you upped the ante then, “you to make a life accurate paper mache model of me for the casket and halfway through the memorial, you beat me with a stick.”

“Can I put candy inside? Like a piñata?”

“You see the vision,” you kissed him proudly, happy that you found someone who found humor in your twisted ideas.

And you both liked to be unapologetically yourselves.

“You know those songs?” He started.

“The ones you think I don’t know about?” You rested your head on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Don’t throw em out or anything if I ever…” he shrugged. “Yeah. Make copies of them at the library or something.”

“Maybe I’ll get them published, like poems. The Unfinished Works of Edward J. Munson.”

“Like Mozarts Requiem.”

“So you do listen to my tapes.”

“When you aren’t home and I need to clear the ol’ nog, yeah.”

“Knew it,” you grinned triumphantly. There was a beat.

You wanted to ask him to look through your pictures, to remember you for who you were and not some idealized perfect thing like other people spoke of in a eulogy. You wanted him to remember you for the raw and wild thing that fought and spat and hissed and also loved and loved.

But you didn’t need to say it, because you knew he would.

You saw each other. Honored each other. The good and bad. The beautiful, broken, and incomplete.

He would make sure, if the time came, the world would know exactly who you were. Because he knew.

You took his shaky hand in yours and squeezed.

“You ok?” Eddie asked and pecked a kiss onto your head as you watched the casket be lowered into the ground.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

It was a good day.

[sulkybender]

the poem of you: a Zukka fic

tags: established relationship, hurt Sokka, hurt/comfort, Sokka has OCD, loving and protective Zuko, modern au

He finds Sokka curled on the floor next to the bed and his heart falls.

He always looks like he’s trying to make a shell with his body, a shell against the world he doesn’t have. 

Zuko gets down on his knees, touches his back. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, and Sokka starts to cry. Zuko covers him with his body, protection. The soft weight of Sokka crying underneath, the raggedness of his breath. 

“I’m here,” Zuko says, kissing the back of his neck, that vulnerable place, the short hairs delicate under his touch. “Baby, I’m right here.”

“It’s bad,” he weeps, inarticulate. 

“I know,” Zuko says. “I know. I love you.”

He curls around Sokka and tries, so hard, to protect him. 

—

Sometimes the thoughts are bad; they don’t relent. It’s like being kicked in the head, Sokka tells him, by the same thought over and over. 

Fuckup. 

Fuckup. 

Fuckup. 

He helps Sokka from the floor and tries to be gentle with him. Zuko spoons him in bed, pressing kisses to his hands. His whole body is stiff, delayed, fighting an infection from within. And the infection is Sokka, and the infection is killing Sokka. Or trying its best. 

“I love you so much,” Zuko says, arms slipping around his waist, snug. “You’re my baby, you know that? You’re my turtleduck.”

Sokka is cried out, hunched in on himself, hurting. The shakiness of his breath is painful. Zuko wants to take the pain away. It’s always seemed so unfair that he can’t. 

He would do anything for Sokka, but there’s nothing he can do. 

“You want me to tell you about my day?” he asks, and Sokka nods. 

Sokka is the talker—Zuko isn’t the talker—but Zuko can do this, can talk for him, fill the silences that Sokka’s mind would try to fill with unkind things. 

“Hmm, let’s see.” Zuko noses at his ear, nuzzling kisses. “It was a slow day. Did some client research. Ate a shitty croissant.”

He hums, thinking. 

“I wrote poems for a bit.” He can feel Sokka smile a little. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that,” Zuko says. 

He falls into silence again for a while, feeling the soft rise and fall of Sokka’s chest. He’s no good at this, the steady patter, the lull of it. He tries to think of other topics but all he can do is wonder how long Sokka was on the floor. 

“What kind of poems?” 

Sokka’s voice is hoarse. 

“Nothing special.” Zuko kisses the back of his neck. “I wrote them on sticky notes and then I hid them in my desk.” He can feel the little motion that means Sokka is laughing, suppressed. “Yeah, yeah. Go on and say it.”

“Nothing,” Sokka says. 

“It’s never nothing.”

“I just love you,” Sokka says, his voice cracking slightly, and Zuko feels warm all over. He could cry. 

“I love you so much it’s crazy,” he says. He cards his fingers through Sokka’s hair. He wants to take care of Sokka so badly. It’s this ache in him all the time. 

“Were the poems about me?” 

Zuko snorts. 

“I wanna know,” Sokka whines. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says. 

“That’s why you love me.”

He rolls over onto his back, smiling up at Zuko. And the smile is hesitant, his eyes still bright from crying, but he looks so handsome Zuko doesn’t know what to do with himself. His hair spills on the pillow, rich brown flecked with gold. He cradles Sokka’s cheek, thumb stroking the line of his jaw. 

He wants to write about the way Sokka’s hair looks, the way his face looks, the particular tilt of it, the thoughtful way his lips purse. He wants to write about wanting to take care of Sokka. Inadequate: his care, his words for it. 

“I would write such shitty love poems about you,” he says. 

“I’d love that,” Sokka says. 

“I’m sure you would.” He kisses Sokka’s head. “Only the shittiest.”

Sokka gestures, a little beckoning movement, and Zuko lies back in his arms, warm, Sokka’s hand protective on his hip. He can feel the tremor in Sokka’s hand, the exhaustion. He’s exhausted himself with the thoughts in his head, been pummeled by them. He’s pummeled still. 

“You’ll read them to me sometime,” Sokka murmurs. 

“I will not.”

“Someday you’re gonna be a famous poet,” Sokka says. “And then I’ll have to see your poems. There’s no avoiding it.”

He’s tracing circles in Zuko’s hipbone, delicate enough to make Zuko shiver with love. He wants to make Sokka dinner; he wants to wash his hair. He wants to do everything, because he can’t do the one thing, the thing that matters. He wants to fall asleep holding Sokka safe from the world. 

“Can we go on a walk later?” Sokka asks, hesitant. “Just to, um.”

It helps when he’s tired, too tired to think circles around himself. Zuko nuzzles him. “Of course, baby. I’d love to walk with you.”

He feels Sokka slump a little in relief. 

“God, you’re fucking lovely, you know that?” he says. 

And Zuko doesn’t know that, because there’s an infection inside him too, the thing that makes him doubt himself. The thing that makes him write poems on sticky notes and hide them away. 

He takes Sokka’s hand, presses it to his cheek. He’ll write a poem someday about that—the feeling of Sokka’s hand on his cheek. 

But he doesn’t have the words for that now. His words are so much less beautiful than that, such ordinary things. 

“You can always ask me to walk with you,” he says. 

And Sokka smiles like it’s a poem anyway. 

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Do you know anything (or maybe have some headcanons) about Rohan’s wedding traditions? How do they propose to be married? What kind of wedding outfits do they have? Do they marry for life, or does divorce exist? Thank you so much! I so love reading all your musings about Rohan!

Thanks for this question, and for being so nice! I love to talk Rohan, so I appreciate the chance! ❤️

I’ve actually never written a Rohirrim wedding and there really isn’t anything to go on from the books/lore, either, so I don’t have a fully developed idea of what that would look like.

Off the cuff, I’d say weddings in Rohan probably vary a lot depending on the wealth, status, location, etc. of the couple. Rich people will obviously have a much bigger, more elaborate wedding, maybe with multiple days of feasting and revelry, while a poor couple has a simple ceremony and a little party. Someone from the far western borders might have different traditions, perhaps with some Dunlendish influence as they were direct neighbors and sometimes intermarried, versus someone in the Wold, which is all the way east, extremely rural and sparsely populated. There’s no official religion of Rohan or anything that might have imposed uniformity on all their rituals, so variety is the name of the game. But there would be some common cultural elements, like toasting and poems and songs, etc. All that ceremonial stuff is in the category of things I definitely need to think more about, though I’m also always interested in other people’s thoughts and ideas, too!

For proposals, I think it was a tradition for most of Rohan’s history (something they picked up from the Gondorians) for royalty and nobles to be guided into negotiated marriages that were considered strategically advantageous. (Marrying for love is one of the few privileges of the poor! They could just find someone they liked, decide between themselves that they wanted to marry and then move forward.) Arranged marriage is something I have addressed in my stories. I’ve written about Elfhild growing to love Théoden deeply over time but still always regretting a little that she didn’t get to choose him. Also, my Théodred HATED the idea of being forced into a marriage and held out against it, which is why he was still unmarried into his 40’s. He didn’t live to see that officially change (*sob*), but I think it did. Éomer makes it clear in ROTK that Éowyn consented to Faramir’s proposal — “she grants it full willing” — and if he had learned that personal autonomy was important for her, I think he’d want to give the same autonomy to himself, his children and others in the future.

As for divorce, there’s no evidence for it in canon (and I am CERTAIN that Tolkien would hate it) but I’m a big believer that divorce is one of the most important tools for the protection of women’s interests to ever exist. So I want it in Rohan! I have a tiny piece of a draft somewhere of Éomer’s wife (who is not Lothíriel in my fics, but a daughter of Elfhelm) being left to rule alone while Éomer is away on business in Gondor, and she essentially invents divorce while he’s gone by granting the plea of several women for the dissolution of their marriages to drunken jerks. Even though the husbands complain bitterly to Éomer when he returns, Éomer has learned some stuff through the years and backs his wife’s move. I’m not sure if that little idea will ever make it into a posted story, but it exists not just in my head but on my google drive!

Thanks again for being so kind! And if you or anyone else have creative Rohirrim wedding/marriage ideas, please always feel free to share them with me!

[simpingforstardew]

muse

pairing: sdv elliot x reader

synopsis: elliot is struggling with severe writers block; if only he had a muse...

note: a while ago i talked about having a derivative idea for an elliot x reader fic; here is that fic !! the premise is completely unoriginal, but i'll leave the references at the end of the fic to avoid spoilers hehe

warnings: i don't even know for this one gang, wholesome w/ an ending that could be read as spooky? let's call it a doomed romance !! tw/ relationships that are doomed by the narrative !!

word count: 1.5k

Adronitis

A heart so damaged; tender; sore—

You ever-blooming sycamore,

Through hunger pangs; my deliriousness,

I mourn my mortal catoptric tristesse.

With starving dreams, your warmth I crave—

I worship you, I must embrave,

Indulge me, lay your fear ahind.

Our sanctuary; your piece of mind.

My amorous famine demands more […more what?],

So I feast on your smile […] petrichor.

i am just writing this right niw so it

looks lije i am being pro ductive oh Yoba

andnow leahs comin g over this

is alll shit im jist going to star t overrr

“How’s the writing going, El’?” Leah peers down at Elliot with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We’ve been at it for a while without a break, you know?”

“Oh, Leah! It’s going splendidly, and yes, it seems we have…” Elliot coughs, avoiding eye contact while tearing the paper from his typewriter. “Why don’t we call it for today then?”

“Without showing me what you’ve done? C’mon,” she whines, “What do you have?”

Elliot and Leah had decided, sometime early last Spring, to meet in Cindersnap forest every Wednesday to work on their current projects. ‘Parallel play for artists,’ Penny once called it when walking Jas back to Marnie’s ranch. For Leah, this weekly rendezvous has (so far) allowed her to complete 2 clay sculptures, 3 wood sculptures, 23 drawings, and 8 paintings; for Elliot, the last few months has allowed him to create…

“Nothing,” Elliot sighs, packing his typewriter’s case with a frown. “I have, somehow, written nothing! I mean, I wanted to craft a Petrarchan sonnet, inspired by Poe’s romantic, yet macabre sensibilities. I ended up with trash I couldn’t even make hendecasyllabic. It’s embarrassingly Shakespearian and—”

“Whoa, whoa, buddy, that’s okay. That’s fine. I’m not sure what any of that means, but…” Leah scrunches her freckled nose, hoping to find the right words to calm Elliot down, “It seems like you’re expecting perfection from a first draft. Maybe we should call it for today, and you could revisit your poem tomorrow?”

“Yes, you are right,” the authors scowl softens; after a moment of meditation—feeling the summer breeze tangle in his hair—he looks towards Leah with a smile. “I will see you next week, Miss Faraday.”

Elliot didn’t return to his typewriter until later that week, deciding instead to bask in the sun’s warmth on the beach. The author sits on the pier with a contented sigh, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop to his afternoon reverie.

Even still, despite the Elysium that he has found himself in, Elliot cannot shake his frustrations; his linguistic discouragement plagued his every thought.

“Ahoy there, my boy! Perfect weather for fishing don’t ya reckon?” Willy smiles, closing the front door to the Fish Shop behind him. Elliot

“Ah, hello Mr. Tucker,” Elliot waves as the fisherman sits beside him, attaching a small blue tackle onto an impressively shiny rod, “I suppose it is, although I fear I don’t have my fishing gear with me today.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that? No need to be so formal, son,” Willy chuckles, casting a line into the vast depths of the saltwater, “Say, aren’t ya usually off in town around this time? Feel like I never see you this early on a Wednesday.”

Elliot still had to adjust to the predictive routine of a small town, and the horrifying consequences of straying from said routine: becoming the topic of mid-afternoon gossip.

“Yes, well, I um—,” Elliot sighs, looking into the deep blue below as if the ocean concealed the antidote to writers block, “I have been, writing with Leah every Wednesday and… actually can I ask for some advice?”

“O’ Course ya can, my boy.” Willy nods.

“I have been… struggling lately,” The taller man slumps as he runs a hand through his auburn hair, his voice heavy with uncertainty, “I feel as if I have lost my spark, my… capacité artistique. I cannot, for the life of me, write anything of quality! I just… I feel broken, Mr. William.”

Willy takes a moment to think, slowly breathing in the salty air, “Hmm, I see your problem, lad— but it’s important to know yer not broken. Aye, nothin’ about ya is broken.”

A fish tugs at Willy’s fishing line: desperately; hopelessly.

“It’s like if yer pal Willy couldn’t fish anymore… I’d sooner swallow a sea urchin than lose my ability to do what I love,” Willy pulls the rod towards him, putting up a fight with whatever poor creature is on the other end of the line, “but sometimes it’s tricky doing what ya love 24/7, son! You got to remind yerself to take breaks, and…”

The creature is hurled out of the ocean, flapping helplessly as the fisherman releases it from his tackle. Willy holds the freshly-caught octopus up to Elliot.

“Remind yerself why ya love it!” Willy chuckles, before mumbling to himself about throwing his newest catch in a tank lest he ‘gets inked’.

As Elliot sits in contemplative silence, the ocean offering solace: the rushing winds, the distant cry of seagulls, even the smell of salty air. Over the last year and a half, he has grown to love it all.

As he rises to his feet, Elliot considers his friends’ advice. He certainly didn’t want to remain in this slump forever; so he needs to find a reminder of why he loves writing; a source of reinvigorating inspiration.

He needs to find a muse.

A muse in a village with a population of 27.

‘Well,’ Elliot thinks, slamming his cabin’s door shut behind him as he slides onto his desk chair. He sets up his Olympia SM 9 for the second time today. ‘If I can’t find my muse in life, I will simply create my muse in art.’

For a moment, the black page loaded into the typewriter stares back at Elliot, mockingly. Then, as suddenly as the crash of thunder that bellows from above, the author began to write.

Elliot bursts into the Fish Shop, his manuscript clutched tightly in hand, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Willy, my friend, you’re incredible!” he cheered, his excitement palpable. “I truly could not have done this without your support.”

Willy grins, offering a sincere thumbs-up. “Glad to hear it, lad! So what was your reminder, eh? What got you back on track?”

Elliot coughs, a flush creeping up his freckled cheeks. “Well, you see… I made it up.”

Willy arches an eyebrow, bemused,“Ya made up yer reminder for why you love writing? Now, son…”

“No, no,” Elliot hastens to explain, “My love for writing is genuine. But my muse, my darling muse, is not.”

“I’m not following, my boy.”

“I have spent all night crafting the narrative of a completely fabricated person, it’s all here,” Elliot elaborates, “They’re genuinely kind, talented and hard-working, despite never being appreciated. They have the most charming mole on their neck, and they’re delightfully witty! After their grandfather passed away, they—”

“Son,” Willy interrupted gently, his tone tinged with amusement, “Yer a peculiar one, ya know that? How is this going to help with yer writing?”

“It does sound ridiculous, but dedicating my sonnets to this idealised character… thinking of them as I work on my novel… It has been phenomenally motivating!” Elliot laughs, re-reading through the pages before stopping in his tracks, “Oh, I do apologise old friend, I barged into your shop like a man possessed.”

It had been months since Elliot had felt such a fervent desire to write; his unbridled excitement was contagious; a smirk spreads across Willy’s face, crinkling the corners of his dark green eyes.

“If it were anyone else instead of you, I’d be furious, lad,” Willy chuckles, reaching into his mini fridge, “‘Ere, I whipped up too many crab cakes last night, and I know they’re yer favourite— consider it a gift.”

As Elliot arrives back at his cabin, writing snacks in tow, the muffled playing of his piano greets him. He chuckles softly, before preparing to shoo Harvey out of his home so he could resume his day of writing.

“Sincerest apologies, I—,”

“Oh! Honey, you’re back so soon.” Turning away from the piano, your eyes catch Elliot’s with a familiar warmth. You admire the way your boyfriend’s hair always forms delicate waves when exposed to the sea spray.

The author was struck speechless, his heart pounding as he stared at you with more focus than you have ever been subject to.

It couldn’t be real. And yet there you are. You. The muse Elliot had crafted— who's entire life was written mere hours prior on the pages that were now strewn about the floor— was standing before him in flesh and blood.

Every flawless detail exactly as he had imagined.

“Elliot, darling, are you okay?” Your smile becomes wry; nervous as to why your lover was acting so peculiar, his pale skin was now a ghastly white. “Would you like me to pour some wine? We can—”

Before your suggestion was made, Elliot was gone; the door slamming shut behind him.

note #2: okay if you didn't catch it, my inspiration was the 1960 episode of the Twilight Zone: 'A World of His Own', and (more relevantly) the 2012 psychological horror romcom Ruby Sparks !! if you check out either that episode or movie, pleasepleaseplease lmk what you think <33

[ananxiousgenz]

COME GET Y'ALLS JUICE I POSTED ANOTHER FIC TODAY

@izel-scribbles for you <3

There was no doubt about it: John was horribly, irrevocably in love with Arthur.

He had been for years. He knew that much now. People tend not to bargain with unknowable beings or repeatedly relive someone’s traumatic death to protect and help someone they couldn’t give a shit about. But he hadn’t reached the conclusion that he really, truly loved Arthur until a few months after their separation, on a lazy Tuesday in their shared apartment.

John had been lying on the couch, listening to some jazz music over the radio while scribbling out ideas for a poem he’d been working on. It was late afternoon, and the light shining through the windows covered everything in echoes of molten gold and fox fur and fire, staining the wallpaper all warm and bright. Specks of dust floated through the streams of it pouring into the room and lit up like stars. It was wonderfully cool outside, in contrast to the fiery sunset, and the breeze that drifted in from the window felt positively delicious in the overheated apartment. Arthur was standing over in the kitchen, starting to cook dinner, and had raised his focus from the pan in front of him to ask John a funny question that he couldn’t recall now. All he could remember was the way Arthur looked when he asked it. 

The light from the kitchen window caught in Arthur’s hair, melting into a glowing halo at the edges, and turned his eyes to a bright, gleaming amber as it gently kissed its way across his scarred face. There was a half-smile on his lips and his eyes were clear and happy as the breeze ruffled his hair. He was radiant and beautiful in a way John had never noticed before, hauntingly perfect and terrifying in the golden hour light. A saint. A memory he wished could be frozen in syrupy, amber light for the rest of his life.

John just stared, mouth slightly ajar as his stomach twisted in something akin to fear. The only thought in his head was I love you, and it was the most confident, most certain, most intense thought he had ever had in his life. And that scared him.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. No one means to fall in love, he’d learned. But if he truly understood anything about being human, it was that understanding and handling emotions was, to put it lightly, a bitch. Emotions tended to do as they pleased with little regard to logic or plans or circumstances, or the poor, wretched souls which they plagued. 

And he hated it. 

He hated it so much.  

It meant despite his best intentions, John was irrevocably in love with the man whom he had hurt, betrayed, manipulated, and fought with a dozen times over. A man who certainly cared for him, but probably, no, definitely, did not love him. Not like this. John was little more than a monster, a parasite who had sucked the life from Arthur’s eyes and soul and ruined it. 

So, now he would have to tiptoe around his feelings and act like they didn’t exist, because saying them outloud would be a death sentence for their relationship. It couldn’t be that difficult, right? John had been fairly good at keeping his thoughts to himself when he had been inside Arthur’s head. Keeping his thoughts to himself when he was outside Arthur’s head could only be easier.

Looking back, he severely underestimated how difficult it would be.

Every time John thought he’d reached some kind of maximum, that he couldn’t love Arthur any more, something new would come along and he’d go falling all over again. A mannerism he’d never really noticed before, or a new poem Arthur had taken fancy to. He often wondered if humans could die from not talking about what they were feeling, from holding it in and bottling it up and shoving it away. He knew, in one way or another, repressed grief had almost killed Arthur after he lost Faroe. Hopefully, unexpressed love didn’t do the same.

He had to bite back an I love you when Arthur took Faroe to the park again and she, in her high-pitched, small voice, leaned down to the floor of the bridge overlooking the creek and said, “Are you there, troll?” When Arthur cried and assured Faroe that he was fine, just happy, dear. When he listened to her describing the ducks in the pond with the biggest smile John had ever seen grace his face.

He had to swallow I love yous every time Arthur went out for a walk and came back with a surprise of new poetry books for John to read and study.

He almost actually said the dreaded words when Arthur laughed long and hard at a stupid joke he’d made, but just managed to catch himself before the I love you slipped past his lips.

It was to this campaign of suppressed emotions that John was dedicated when he and Arthur found themselves on a walk to the park on a dull, overcast afternoon. Faroe was at school, and Arthur needed a break from his cases before he drove his mind into the damn ground with them, so John decided some exercise would do them both good. Arthur, ever dedicated to his work, had groaned and complained about leaving loose ends unsolved, but nevertheless pulled on his shoes and coat.

They headed out of the apartment, arm in arm, Arthur chuckling good-naturedly at a wry comment John made about his case-solving habits.

“Now, John,” Arthur sighed, a lovely half-smile playing across his lips as they strode down the sidewalk together, “you can’t honestly expect me to not work? Investigative work isn’t exactly regular, but it certainly makes a good deal more money than bartending does.”

“I never said I didn’t want you to work, Arthur. I only said that maybe you were working too much,” John argued. 

“Working too much? I don’t think that’s true. Working too little, well, that seems a bit more likely,” Arthur replied, tilting his head to accentuate his point.

John sighed, and was glad, not for the first time, that Arthur couldn’t see the small, fond smile blossoming across his face. “Arthur, how many hours in the past week have you slept?”

“Well-”

“And how many times have you eaten or drank water without me reminding you?”

“John, I-”

“And exactly how much time have you spent with me or Faroe? Sitting on the couch reading case files while we are nearby does not count.”

“I’m spending time with you right now, you know. Does that count, my dear?” Arthur asked, voice dripping with affectionate sarcasm.

John rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the flutter deep in his stomach at Arthur’s oh-so casual use of a pet name. “Absolutely not. You only came with me because I dragged you out of the house. If I hadn’t forced you, you would have sat at that table until doomsday.”

“I would not!”

“Arthur, you would have!”

“That is simply untrue, John. I very much enjoy taking walks with you. They’re the highlight of my day!”

“You complained from the second you began putting your shoes on about ‘leaving loose ends untied’ and ‘time is money’.”

Arthur sighed dramatically. “Must we fight again?”

“Only if you’re going to continue being such a stubborn ass.”

“Oh come now, you know how a fight will upset the children.”

Arthur sounded like a character from one of those radio dramas Faroe was so fond of listening to, the ones where someone was always getting betrayed or making a shocking new discovery, all loud voices and exaggerated emotions and cheesy acting. John couldn’t help it. Arthur sounded so silly and ridiculous that he snorted.

Arthur paused for a second, and then grinned brighter than the summer sun at noon, clearly egged on by John’s response. “They can’t grow up in an environment like this! Do you have any idea what a divided household will do to their psyches?”

Despite his best efforts to keep it bottled up, a laugh was bubbling up John’s throat, silently shaking his chest with the force of an earthquake.

“John, we’ll simply ruin them if we keep arguing! We must keep the peace! Think of the children, darling! Will no one protect the children?!”

John had given up on trying to hold the laugh back. It exploded out of his chest in a joyous firework burst of sound, rattling through his ribcage and stomach like it was shaking him down for money. Arthur’s bright, sunny laugh joined in shortly after, and John could swear he saw it glittering like a lit sparkler as it weaved itself into the air around them. And then the two of them were laughing, almost hysterically, as they walked, arm in arm down the sidewalk, stumbling and leaning on each other as though they were drunk on happiness. And maybe they were. Could one get drunk on elation? John wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt better in his life. They laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until tears were streaming from both of their faces and John had to pause walking to wipe them away. 

He reached over to Arthur’s face with a gentle hand and wiped the tears away from his face as well. God, he was beautiful. Still shaky with the last few gasps of laughter, with a smile like Faroe’s on Christmas morning, sunny and beaming with joy. John smiled softly as he swiped his thumb over Arthur’s cheekbones. He wanted to hold Arthur’s face for just a moment longer. Just a second. Maybe if he wished hard enough, the moment would never pass, would be encased in amber memory forever, bright and crystalized and unbreakable and beautiful.

But the moment did pass, as all moments do. 

A sudden chorus of soft laughter drew John’s attention away from Arthur and towards a group of young ladies and gentlemen clustered farther up on the sidewalk. They were whispering and giggling to each other as they walked, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for folks of their age. But something about them made the hairs on the back of John’s neck prickle with discomfort. Their laughter and murmurings seemed too… secretive. Too accusatory. They weren’t just chattering among themselves, John realized. They were pointing, too, stealing not-so subtle glances at something they clearly found incredibly amusing. Were they laughing at him? Or Arthur?

John shook his head to clear the thoughts away as he took his hand off Arthur’s face. Maybe they had just seen an amusing film, or someone had told a funny joke about one of the nearby shops. John was just overreacting. It was fine. It had to be fine, even though every instinct he possessed was telling him otherwise. He took Arthur’s arm again and continued walking in the direction of the park. The sooner they made it away from this group, the better he would feel.

A distant roll of thunder shivered through the air as John locked eyes with one young lady whispering into the ear of a friend, who pointed at John and Arthur while snickering in response to her silent comment. John’s stomach twisted in humiliation and fury. 

They were laughing at him and Arthur.

John took a shaky breath in and grit his teeth as he glared at the group passing by. One of the boys stuck out his tongue. Whispers of “fucking queers” and “homosexuals” in venomous tones floated over the breeze and into John’s ears. Another child picked up a small pebble from the sidewalk and threw it in their direction as he passed, hitting John squarely between the shoulders. John froze in his tracks.

The fragment of a god that still lived in his heart wanted to rip them all to shreds, watch them bleed out and suffer on the sidewalk for the crime of daring to laugh at a being so powerful their mortal minds could barely comprehend its edges. He felt so sharp and angry that he wondered if he could spear them all through just by spitting at them. Maybe he could get away with tearing them limb from limb with his bare hands. But part of him didn’t want to start a fight and just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. If he fought, Arthur could get hurt again, and it would be just another way John had ruined his life. That damned bit of humanity that was lodged in his soul wouldn’t let him cause Arthur any more pain (and John was finding that the human part tended to win out these days). He was still for a moment longer, listening to the battle of god and mortal raging in his mind.

And then John, former piece of the King in Yellow, put his head down and walked away, dragging a very confused Arthur with him.

He was crying a bit as they turned the corner he realized, furious tears carving hot, woodburned lines down his face and turning the world into a wobbly, grey mess. He felt so fucking small. So humiliated. And raw. And angry. Over something as stupid as a kid laughing at him. A kid laughing at him had enough power to make him cry? How perfectly fucking ridiculous. It only made him feel worse.

“John? John, what’s wrong?”

Arthur sounded so concerned, so gentle and careful with his words. He always did when John got upset like this. But John stayed silent, jaw locked in place with the force of his fury, like toffee sticking sickly sweet between his teeth. Some part of him was afraid that if he spoke, the words would burst on his tongue like a series of grenades, and the shrapnel would kill him and Arthur both. 

“John. John, please. Please slow down for a minute.”

John just kept walking, making a sharp right into the gates of the park and crunching his way along the gravelly walkway. Before him, trees covered in their late summer leaves dotted across the meadow and near the edge of the pond, which was coated with a thin layer of ducks and frogs and lily pads. The last of the summer wildflowers wobbled in the breeze as thunder grumbled its way overhead, a warning bell for the storm to come, and John wished for a moment he had the foresight to grab an umbrella on his way out of the apartment. It was some small distraction from the clamoring mess of angry emotions all vying for attention in his head. 

“John! For fuck’s sake, will you stop walking and talk to me?!”

John stopped in his tracks. “What do you want, Arthur?” He cringed as the words left his mouth far sharper and more vicious than he had meant them to be.

Arthur’s face was pinched with concern that had mutated into frustration as he took a step forward and glared up in John’s general direction. “What the fuck happened? Why were you rushing off like that?”

“It’s nothing,” John huffed. “I’m fine.”

“No, you are not, and don’t you even fucking think of trying to lie to me.”

John sighed deeply. Damn Arthur’s fucking detective instincts. Damn them all to hell. “I don’t want to talk about it, Arthur. Have you ever considered that?”

“At least give me an idea!”

“Why should I?”

“I’m assuming you saw something I didn’t, and it’s a bit difficult to figure out what is visually wrong when you’re fucking blind, John. So what happened?”

John sat in that stony silence for a moment, staring at Arthur’s determined and frustrated expression. Overhead, the thunder loudly voiced it’s complaints about their conversation, and a few drops of cool rain began to fall.

“Those kids were laughing at us,” John muttered, feeling his face begin to grow hot with embarrassment.

“What?” Arthur asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“There was a group of kids on the sidewalk that passed us. They were… pointing at us. Laughing to each other.”

“I heard them laughing, yes. That’s what upset you so badly?”

“We needed to leave,” John huffed. “We were at risk.”

“They were kids, John. I don’t think we were in any real danger-”

“They were calling us names! They threw a fucking rock at me!” 

“And that’s what children do! How many times has Faroe thrown a toy at you? Or shredded papers because she was playing pretend?” Arthur shouted, spreading his arms open wide.

“This was different,” John growled, the thunder rumbling in answer to his tone as the rain began to pick up.

“How, John? How was this different?”

“We were in danger! You could have gotten hurt, Arthur!”

“John, for the last fucking time, they were kids. I think I can handle myself around children.”

“I was trying to keep you safe.”

“You don’t need to keep me safe!”

“Yes, I do!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

John immediately regretted ever having vocal chords of his own. Arthur was silent. The only sound was the heavy rainfall, thick drops mirroring the sudden, fearful tears sliding down John’s face as he stared in horror at Arthur’s reaction. He seemed frozen, his eyes were blown wide with surprise and mouth open in a small, tight oh. Even as the rain began to soak through his hair and coat, he still looked so fucking beautiful. 

“I love you, Arthur, alright? I can’t- I haven’t been able to say it because I know it would mess everything up. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

And John couldn’t bear to look at him. At what he had done. He’d just fucked up everything so beautifully, hadn’t he? First he couldn’t stand up for himself (against a group of kids no less), then he admits to being in love with his best friend in the pouring rain, which would give them both a nasty cold if they didn’t get out of it soon, and he would never be able to talk to Arthur normally again without this moment appearing and making everything awkward-

And then Arthur’s hand was on his cheek.

John froze and could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as Arthur’s fingers brushed gently over his features, outlining his eyebrows, his nose, his cheekbones, his lips. This was… unexpected. The look on Arthur’s face was so soft, so tender. Nothing at all like the frustrated explosion it had been only moments before. His amber eyes flicked back and forth across John’s face with no clear point of focus. There was some emotion lurking in them that John couldn’t quite catch. Pain? Longing? He couldn’t tell. Thunder crackled across the sky, accompanied by a flash of purple-white lightning. The rain kept falling. Arthur leaned in like he was going to whisper something in John’s ear, and then hesitated.

And then Arthur’s lips were on his, and it was like the world exploded.

The cold drops of rain were gone, and the thunder nothing more than background noise for the fireworks show happening in John’s head. Everything in the whole wide world was replaced by the warm press of Arthur’s lips on his. Every nerve in his body was alive and sparkling like sunlight dancing across water and Jesus Christ, if this wasn’t what John had wanted for so long, had dreamed about for months on end. It was exactly as perfect as he had imagined it would be, and God, it felt so good to kiss Arthur. So right. So warm and close and beautiful, fucking hell, was this why people kissed each other? To feel like this? John had been missing out, hadn’t he? 

Arthur pulled away first and pressed his forehead to John’s. “Always so dramatic,” he murmured with a smile.

John’s brain was short-circuiting. There were thoughts scrambling around his head so rapidly it was difficult to simply pick one to voice aloud. “I- wait. You- you don’t hate me?”

Arthur chuckled. “No, you absolute idiot. Or else I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I- you kissed me…” John said through a daze. He half wondered if his legs would be able to keep him upright for the time it would take them to walk back to the apartment. Currently, they seemed to be about the consistency of jelly, and the rain making the path under their feet slippery wasn’t exactly helping matters.

“In case the kiss didn’t make it clear, I… I love you too, John. I have for a long time,” Arthur said softly, running his fingers along John’s jaw. “Thank you for looking out for me, darling. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was just trying to understand.”

John was glad yet again that Arthur couldn’t see the giddy grin and blush that had taken over his face when Arthur said the word “darling”. He probably looked fairly stupid, but he could care less. Arthur loved him, too. Arthur felt the same way. Jesus Christ Almighty, Arthur had just kissed him.

“Uh huh,” John breathed, trying not to completely fall over. “Yeah. Okay.”

Arthur chuckled a bit. “Did you think I didn’t feel the same way?”

“I- Well, how was I supposed to know?! I’m not a mindreader!”

“Christ, John, you can be dense sometimes, can’t you? I think it has been fairly obvious that I am in love with you.”

“Obvious to you! I’m sorry your uptight English nature isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to read,” John said, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Hey now, my ‘uptight English nature’ has gotten us both out of plenty of scrapes and you know it,” Arthur replied, a sunny grin gracing his face. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about how your pretty face has saved us all,” John said with a sigh.

“You think my face is pretty?”

John froze for a moment before he grabbed Arthur’s arm and turned sharply on his heel in the direction of the park gates. “Let’s go before we both catch pneumonia!”

“John, you didn’t answer my question,” Arthur said in a sing-song voice, falling into step beside John as they began to make their way home.

John sighed heavily. “Yes, Arthur, I think your face is pretty. Oh, wipe that smug grin off. Have a little mercy on me.”

“Who’s grinning?” Arthur asked, smiling from ear to ear like the damn Chesire cat from Faroe’s books.

John rolled his eyes again. It was going to be a long, lovely walk back to the apartment.