#and yet I still wrote That Much in one night
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Do you have any Avenchurin headcanons please, anything you got to feed us?
A/n: I have some unreleased hcs that I wrote some time ago for a friend that I hope you enjoy!
Contents: Aventurine x GN! Reader, fluff, sleeping hcs, hand holding hcs, his reaction to different forms of affection from you, all sfw
Sleeping
-Aventurine and cuddling are something that somehow occurs rarely, yet they go hand in hand so wellÂ
- The man needs comfort more than so many others it's undeniable, and once he warms up to you he really does crave that physical touch and affection a lot more openly. He needs it more and more until he's all but crawling into you, slotting himself between your arms without a word in silent worry you might not accept him
- But you do and when that settles in his mind he really clings on. He wraps his arms around you and does not let go, nuzzling into you, your neck, your hair, your chest, your back, all depending on your positions and preferences at the momentÂ
- His favorite position would be something face to face, or rather front to front as he does like to nuzzle into your neck a lot so it's not really eye to eye lol
- He prefers hugging you from the back and cuddling like that when he doesn't really want to face you if he's got something troubling him and he just wants to feel as if he's enough to hold you. Just some little trick he plays with himself ig
- loves when you run your fingers through his hair, and often falls asleep like that, his hold on you slowly growing looser as he slips into slumber
-He has a tendency to seek you out in his sleep at times, he just needs to feel your warmth, especially when the days get rougher and days become darker. Youâll just randomly wake up with his head on your chest or his hand holding yours.
-Aventurine and sleep can vary from time to time and depending on the activities during the day really. He isnât exactly constant with his sleep schedule. So if heâs had a long, tiring and busy day he would sleep for longer and go to bed earlier, with his mornings consisting of a few âfive more minutes pleaseâ if you try to wake him up. His work time doesnât start too early anyway, so please donât wake him (his words, not mine)(wake him up)(he needs to get to work-)
- On the other side, if he didnât have much to do during the day or the activities were more on the satisfying end for him, he does tend to have some form of late night âzoomiesâ and doesnât go to bed until at least 1am. Itâs not like he is jumping around the house and bouncing off of walls, but he is still talkative, a big chatterbox, and could definitely use a walk to blow some energy off before finally deeming himself tired enough to attempt falling asleep. Playing card games with him also is a nice way to unwind, even if you're too tired to speak, Aventurine will talk for the both of you.
-However, sometimes he stays up for another reason, and that being his own emotional state that comes back to bite him in the rear just when he thinks he has forgotten enough about it, but ignoring it only postpones the issue. Staring at the bedroom ceiling until the early hours of the morning and with his head clouded with thoughts, he tends to just âŠexist.. Sometimes he cries, sometimes he feels heâs too numb to even do that. Either way, his sleep is fucked wholly in this scenario, and he has half the thought to take a sick day for himself
-As for bed sharing and cuddles - Aventurine doesnât mind sharing in the slightest, if anything it can be quite comforting. He only makes an exception to this rule when either one of you needs privacy and some time to yourselves. He doesnât really care if you happen to steal his blanket either. Take it, heâs used to sleeping however and can sleep in most positions, warm or cold. In terms of positions - he doesnât have a favorite
-As for cuddles, in the start of your relationship he likes to fall asleep solo, with you there if youâre already sharing the bed, but he will crawl to you, be it due to his dreams or in some half asleep- half awake faze in the middle of the night
-He goes for either his head on your chest or in your neck or spooning, can be quite the big cuddler as you grow even closer
Hand holding
- He has gloves on a lot of times but when he goes to hold your hand he does stop to take a glove off, he really does prefer skin on skin contact and, although a minute detail in day to day life, he appreciates it a lot
- If you two are walking he does prefer to hold your hand in a way where your fingers interlock together, just feels so safe and warm and y'all can drag eachother around comfortably and it also shows a side of Aven he often hides.Â
- side note(?): Aventurine would love to just pretend for a day or two. And by that I mean he'd love to take you to a planet where both of you are just two nobodies with no names, and he'd love to change out of his signature attire and just be a nobody with you, enjoying the small "meaningless" things with you on this unknown world. In short- being human with you is his fantasy, a dream
- back on track- he prefers if you hold his right hand since he doesn't want you to feel his left one shaking when he's afraid/nervous (if I got the order wrong, don't mind me, just flip em around)
- but if you insist on holding his left arm, he prefers if you hold him by the elbow a lot of times instead of going for your usual interlocked fingers
- if you insist further, he sighs softly as you hold his shaky hand and he internally melts too, occasionally. It does comfort him when you caress that hand or play with his fingers or the rings he wears on them. It gives him something else to focus on and it brings the cacophony in his mind down
Reactions to different ways of affection
- Aventurine has a rather similar reaction to most displays of affection but that doesn't mean they're any less genuine, and there's always a small variation in the way his eyes light up or how big his smile is - it's just that an ordinary person wouldn't quite catch these variationsÂ
-Sometimes, if you manage to catch his reactions on camera they can be quite the precious keepsakes
- How Aventurine melts into the palm of your hand when you cups his cheek, leaning some of his weight into it like an oversized cat and looking at you with shimmering, colorful eyes that just scream "oh how much I love you", his cheeks dusted with faintest of reds
- How Aventurine chuckles, laughs, when you give him a kiss on the cheek or on his temple without any warning sign you'd do anything like that. His hand scratches back at his nape as he waves it off but teases you simultaneously. How could you ever miss the sheen of want in his eyes, the way they glaze over and look at you for the rest of the evening in silent admiration
- Most favorite of all, and especially during the night, Aventurine loves the feel of your fingers through his hair. He looks and feels calmer, he feels human and he feels seen. He feels all his sins and worries melt from his body to get soaked by the mattress beneath him. And he hums shortly, low in his throat as he slowly feels sleep cloud his mind like heavy, comforting mist. And he has the most important person in his life in his hold... he's holding the whole world in his arms tonight.
âž n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
#-dragon.treasure#Aventurine x reader#Aventurine#Aventurine x you#aventurine fluff#Aventurine headcanons#aventurine x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x yn#hsr aventurine#x reader#hsr imagine#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail headcanons#honkai star rail x you#aventurine imagine#Aventurine imagines#honkai star rail aventurine#fluff#x you
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Might be a hot take as a bkdk and tgck truther here, but I find izuocha endlessly fascinating, beautiful, but also tearfully tragic.
I see their love for each other as something representative of their innocence and naivety when they only knew so little about who they were, and what was to come.
I think the main barrier of their relationship is that its rooted in how they see each other very idealistically, specifically that they're attached to the image of their Best Heroic Selves, and not the deeply selfish, destructive, freaky, and egotistical parts of them. To each other, they need to keep fulfilling that image or else that same person they looked up to would almost die in front of them, and that would be too cruel. Although that hero is still there, that same person they looked up to is not the same now because of...well...everything.
Izuku had barely even talked to girls when he first met her. She was Izuku's first ever real friend (Sorry Kats, everyone and him knows he was terrible), so he saved her in that entrance exam even if it was so dangerous. She gave a new meaning to his derogatory nickname just by being a friend that believed in him. After that, she saved him several more times (Blackwhip and Megaphone are the biggest samples iirc). It makes perfect sense that she is Deku's hero.
Ochako hardly knew what it meant to be a hero when she first got into UA. Just by reaching out to some kid tripping, she made a new friend who would then save her in that exam, then save him again in return. This boy then became someone who was always working so hard to save everyone in trouble, and she realized she wanted to be just like him too. "I want to save people"
But...Deku changes. The weight of One for All is on his shoulders and he needs someone to carry this burden with him. He continues to want to save other people at the expense of himself, still not letting his true selfishness and ego ever show- and it only grows more and more unbearable.
Then...Ochako fell in love with Himiko. Truly, relentlessly, selfishly and devotedly in love with a girl who then dies giving her blood to her- the greatest expression of love Himiko could ever give.
Not that they can't love each other because of this happening (and...so many other things oh god), I'm honestly not sure how to explain it- But them ending up together after losing that innocence and naivety? After Ochako will forever grieve the girl who showed her love in its most beautiful and ugly form? After Izuku changed so fundamentally as a person that the butterflies of a nice girl talking to you doesn't exist anymore? After that simple image of being a hero and being in love has completely changed for them both?
Even so, I believe they still love each other. There is no label I know of that can properly describe them though. They are each other's image of being a hero when it comes to saving people. Aside from Shoto, no one else can grasp the grief of the person you tried to save dying in your hands. They would no doubt try to cope with these losses together, and just try to get better together...but so much has changed. They've changed. The world changed. What are they now? Who are they now?
"What happened...to us?"
#I just think the tragedy of falling out of love for the person who represents who they Used to be is so...so painful#Kacchan isn't even here yet and it's already so complicated.#also. Izch healing together after all this would also be really nice#if u like them ending up together thats also perfectly fine too. im just a bkdk and tgck truther myself. thats kinda my whole thing#but izch forming a deep bond from their experiences and saving eachother#and maybe later on trying to date too...oh boy#and them being able to just...be more casual again. talk abt their lives and dreams together too just so they know they have each other#oh itd be so healing and beautiful#im so glad izuku talked to ochako on that cliff man oh man...#izuocha the underrated tragic love that they could've been if ppl werent so close minded abt them#only the real izch fans understand just how much these two actually mean to each other. god bless yall I swear even if I dont ship ship it#thank u to that person who wrote abt them being characters than run in parallel#that narrative structure for them is permanently in my brain. I love these two so much its no joke#my Extra hot take is that izch wouldve been treated better by the fandom if it was gay.#but we'd still agree on bkdk as the endgame after all that happened. maybe. idk this is a hypothetical.#if you switch ock and kats genders...this wouldve been a very different story and fandom. insane food for thought with this one.#ok thats my yap for the night oh god i have so many feelings about them...#evelynpr bnha#bnha#mha#my hero academia#izuocha#actually confidently putting this tag now. sorry for the angst you guys...and maybe being seen as a traitor#im a strong girl I could take on potential haters hahaha...#izuku midoriya#ochako uraraka
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when i picture you
Picture You by Chappell Roan won the poll for this fun fic challenge by @saynomorefic, and that actually slid really easily into place with a little fic idea I'd had a while ago, and so I am almost embarrassed with how quickly I wrote this đ
rated M - nsfw - set after s1
Simonâs heart may be broken, and his logical brain may be fully onboard with the break-up with Wille, but his body seems to be determined to not get the message.Â
For the fourth time since school let out for their winter break, he wakes up with an erection and a half-dozen fleeting dreams. Dreams of Wille, patched together by the traitorous lizard part of his brain - Wille rowing while wearing a suit; Wille giving a speech to the nation in just his boxers; Wille sucking Simon off on a piano bench, the tie from his school uniform holding back his bangs.Â
Simon huffs with frustration and heads for the bathroom. His mom keeps promising theyâll get a door for his bedroom - theyâre all a little extra touchy about privacy since the video came out - but it hasnât happened yet, and there is no way heâll be able to get himself off when he can hear Sara singing along to the radio in the kitchen, and he doesnât trust one of them to not just come barging through the towel that shields his room.Â
He wastes no time turning on the shower once the bathroom door is locked. For a second he wishes heâd brought his phone, for some music, or inspiration -- but thatâs another thing that makes him paranoid now, wondering whether his mom can see his searches on their internet, wondering if someone would try to hack their family, to see what the boy from The Video gets up to. Heâs put tape over the camera lenses on his phone and his computer but he just doesnât really trust anything at this point.Â
So, when he sits on the ground with his back to the tub and tugs down his boxers, he has nothing but his own imagination. Which, unfortunately, still very much means Wille.Â
He wonders, as he gives himself a first gentle ghost of a stroke, shuffling down a bit so his head is tipped back against the side of the tub and his feet press into the wall (this bathroom, this house, is fucking small), if Wille thinks of Simon when he touches himself. He wonders if thereâs a masturbatory version of him haunting the castle. What does Wille picture? He never got to ask him.Â
He bites his lip and closes his eyes and goes for one of the disjointed fantasy images from last night. Theyâd been in the library at Hillerska, and Wille had had Simon pressed against one of the shelves. They were both wearing the white robes from Lucia night, something Simon hadnât previously clocked as sexy, but he squeezes himself now at the thought, his chest lifting a little with the sensation. His own robe was rucked up to his waist, his knees bent and tight around Willeâs hips so that Wille could fuck into him, pushing him against the shelf behind him with each thrust. Simon grasped a shelf behind him with one hand while the other strove to keep Willeâs own gown out of the way, so that he could see.Â
He doesnât have the time to finger himself, but his ass clenches anyway. They never had that kind of sex, and now Simon is both grateful and aggrieved -- it would be another thing to regret, or mourn, but then again, it already feels like Wille is inside him, irretrievably, all the time, so what would have been the harm?Â
He imagines one of Willeâs hands on him, on his cock; a ripple of warmth spreads over his skin as he works himself. Heâs losing track of whose hands and arms are where and if they even have enough limbs for this but he doesnât care. He wants Wille to flatten him like a book he canât get enough of, to crack his spine, to hold him open as he devours him. He presses a heel to the cleft of Willeâs ass to urge him closer; Wille is panting into his neck; the tub is hard and unforgiving behind Simonâs head but he imagines itâs the shelf supporting him as Wille fucks him. And then, in his imagining, the shelf supporting him keels over, catching the next one which also falls, and now Wille is fucking him on the tilted shelves, and the candles of his Lucia crown (had he been wearing that the whole time?) catch on the books and everything is burning around them, the school is burning to the ground, and Wille gasps I love you with every thrust, and all Simon can say is God Jul, God Jul, God Jul...Â
Itâs such a ridiculous image that heâs laughing as he comes, the twin sensations tugging deliciously at his core, and he falls sideways so that his cheek is pressed to the bath mat. For a moment, before the high clears, he wishes he could tell Wille about this, that they could laugh about it, that Wille would tease him about the silly fantasy until they realized they were both half-hard--Â
âSIMON!â Sara is rapping on the bathroom door. âI need to pee!âÂ
âJust a minute,â he grumbles, and he turns the shower, which has been running this whole time, to its coldest setting; he will need the jolt before he can go out there and face his life.Â
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Hey coco I seen your latest story and I was wondering if you could do the complete opposite where reader and Marshall are in a long term relationship and they have sex and heâs in a rush and he doesnât clean reader up at all and kinda leaves really quickly and reader feels like a hoe and gets in her feels about it .
A/N : thank you so much for your request ! I really liked the idea so I came up with a little something. I hope you enjoy it âșïžđ. Please donât mind the title. Iâm exhausted and I wrote the first thing that comes to mind đ€Ł.
The Birkin Diplomacy
CW : Eminem being a really sucky boyfriend and a cocky bastard đ
; reconciliation
Marshall leaned against the headboard, the low hum of the city filtering through the slightly cracked window of your bedroom. The sheets were tangled around your legs, still heavy with the warmth of your embrace. He pulled a hand through his messy hair, damp from sweat, as he exhaled. For a moment, he seemed presentâhis gaze fixed on you in the dim light, the edges of his sharp features softened by exhaustion. You studied him, your head resting on his chest. You couldnât help but think there was something mesmerizing about your man. You always found him fascinating, but orgasm always gave him a nice glow. In the dim light of your room, he seemed even more ethereal. If it werenât for his heartbeat, steady and strong, you could have sworn he wasnât really. You basked in this delicious feeling for a while, catching your breath, enjoying the comforting feeling of his skin against yours. But then, right as you were about to fall asleep, he pulled away.Â
« Gotta go, » he mumbled before getting up. « What? » you asked, propping yourself up on an elbow, in a voice edged with disbelief. He simply shrugged before answering, not exactly apologetic. « Late-night session. Dreâs in town. Canât leave him hanging » he explained as he slid out of bed. How movements were quick, almost mechanical; as he started to put his clothes on. You frowned and watched as he moved around the room. You body was still aching from him, from your connection. You had given yourself to him completely, as you had always done and yet⊠He was leaving. You couldnât help but feel your heart break a little. « Marshall⊠Canât it wait? » you asked, your voice breaking slightly. « I feels like I barely see you, these days ».Â
He sighed and looked at you. For a moment, it seemed like his icy blue eyes were softening. But then his shoulders sagged, and the weight of his responsibilities seemed to settle on him again. « You know how it is, babe. Iâve got work to do. Weâre close to finishing the album ». And just like that, he was goneâout the door with a rushed kiss on your forehead, leaving you alone in your bed, body still marked by his touch. You stared at the ceiling, your chest tightening as frustration and hurt bubbled up inside you. Nearly two years of being babe. His girlfriend. His source of comfort and support. Almost two years of sticking with him through thick and thin. Two years of him calling you his princess, his queen⊠And now, he had you feeling like a cheap whore, your cozy bedroom reduced to a vulgar brothel. He didnât even help you clean up. Yet, somehow, it was the fancy bracelet he had gifted you a couple of days ago that had you feeling dirty. When you had opened the box, you had been mesmerized by the way the diamonds caught the light but now, it felt like a bauble, a weak attempt at making up for the attention he didnât give you. And if he thought you were one of these hoes that would turn a blind eye to their bed being empty as long as they had tiny things to look at, he was dead wrong. This, you were about to remind him of.Â
The idea came to you as a sharp, defiant spark. Sitting up, you wrapped yourself in the sheet, your resolve growing stronger with each step toward the closet. Marshall had showered you with lavish gifts over the course of your relationshipâdesigner handbags, sparkling jewelry, even a pair of limited-edition sneakers heâd bragged about snagging before anyone else. You gathered them one by one, piling them into an empty box from a recent delivery. Each item carried a memory, a moment when youâd thought you were his priority, his anchor. Now, they felt hollow, like symbols of a love that had become one-sided. Next, you opened the drawer where you kept a spare key to his house. Your fingers trembled as you placed it on top of the pile. Youâd carried that key everywhere, a token of trust and commitment. Now, it felt heavy with the weight of his neglect. And for all you cared, he could give it to someone else. Someone who would be willing to put up with the disrespect. But that someone wouldnât be you. You had many flaws, but being unaware of your worth certainly wasnât one of them. The final touch was a deliberate act of rebellion. Pulling out your phone, you searched for the number of a high-end escort service youâd once overheard a friend joking about. You scribbled it down on a sticky note in bold, dark letters, then stuck it to the top of the box. « Here » you mumbled. « Now you can save on presents and have a cheap hoe ».Â
The next morning, the courier arrived promptly. You gave the box one last glance, your heart thudding in your chest. A small part of you hesitatedâdid you really want to do this? But the memory of his hurried departure, of the way heâd made you feel so disposable, spurred you forward. « Delivery for Marshall Mathers, » you said, your voice steady as you handed it over.
Later that day, Marshall was at his studio, downing what seemed to be his hundredth can of Redbull, trying to stay awake. Dre had left the studio shortly before, and he was trying to go over the track they had recorded. He groaned as the receptionist came to him and handed him a package addressed to him. « Whoâs it from? » he asked, his brows furrowed. She simply shrugged, mumbling something about a courrier. He sat the box on his desk and opened it slowly, his confusion growing with each item he uncovered. The bracelet, the earrings, the sneakers, the bags⊠All these were presents he had gifted you. His breath caught when he saw the key, glinting under the soft light of his studio office. But it was the sticky note that stopped him. A phone number. Of course, he didnât waste any time and immediately took out his phone to dial it.Â
His heart pounded as he hit the call button, curiosity and dread warring within him. The line rang once. Twice. « Hello, » a smooth, almost rehearsed voice answered on the other end. « Youâve reached Luxe Companions, Detroitâs premier escort service. How can I help you today? » He froze. « Waitâwhat? » he stammered, his voice pitching higher than usual. « This is Luxe Companions, » the voice repeated, professional and patient. « Would you like to make a booking? » Marshallâs mouth went dry as realization hit him like a freight train. His eyes widened, and his grip on the phone tightened. No. No way. « Uh⊠nah, » he muttered, struggling to form coherent words. « I think I⊠uh⊠I think I got the wrong number. » There was a brief pause on the other end, as if the operator was used to this sort of reaction. « Very well, sir. If you change your mind, feel free to call back. » Marshall ended the call abruptly, dropping his phone onto the desk as though it had burned him. His jaw hung open as he stared at the offending sticky note, now armed with a whole new layer of meaning.
« She didnât, » he said aloud, shaking his head in disbelief. « She wouldnât. » But you absolutely had.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the office. His mind spun in a chaotic loop: you were pissed, and this was your way of making sure he knew it. The message was loud and clear nowâif you donât make time for me, someone else will. The audacity of it stung, but so did the truth behind it. He collapsed into a chair, still holding the note as if it might give him more answers. Less than an hour later, Marshall was standing outside of your door, the sticky note still crumpled in his fist. Maybe it was a side-effect of the exhaustion or the energy drink, but his lips were twitching with a mix of frustration and amusement as he knocked. He had to admit there was something about the audacity, the sheer, unfiltered nerve of your move. He wasnât sure whether he was mad, impressed or both.Â
The door opened just wide enough for you to peek out. Your eyes locked on him, cold and unyielding. « What do you want, Marshall? » you asked, your voice clipped. « Well, » he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, « I came to return this. » He held up the note. « Thought maybe youâd accidentally sent me the number to a⊠uh⊠high-end hospitality service. » Your eyes narrowed, your poker face slipping just enough to show a hint of satisfaction. « Accidentally? No. That was very much intentional ». He let out a chuckle and shook his head. « I figured. You really went there, huh? ».Â
You pushed the door open a little more, standing tall with your arms crossed. « You left me in bed like I was nothing. No cuddling. No conversation. Just âwham, bam, thanks, maâam,â and out the door. » Your voice was calm but laced with venom. He winced, raising his hands in surrender. « Okay, I get it. I was a jerk. A giant, oblivious, selfish jerk. But damn, sending me to call an escort service? Thatâs cold, Y/N. » You couldnât help but scoff at his audacity. « Was it, now ?! » you shot back, your tone sharp. « I thought it was rather creative ».Â
Marshall bit back a grin, trying to stay serious. « Alright, look, » he said, stepping closer. « I know I screwed up. I know Iâve been all over the place, and Iâve been taking you for granted. Thatâs on me. But come on, babe. You really think Iâd go through with calling someone else? ». You leaned against the doorframe, studying him. « I donât know, Marshall. Youâve been treating me like an afterthought lately. I had to remind you Iâm not some cheap hoe. » At that, his lips curved into a slow smirk. « Cheap? Nah. Youâre way too high-maintenance for that. »  Your eyes narrowed, but he pressed on before you could retort. « Not to be that guy, but⊠Birkin bags arenât exactly cheap » He gestured to your living room, where the infamous orange box your bag had come in sat on a side table. « Youâre not a cheap hoe, baby. Youâre an expensive one. Top-shelf. » The audacity of his words made your jaw drop. « Are you fucking serious right now? » you hissed, though your lips, betraying that you were fighting a smile. « Iâm just saying, » he said, raising a brow. « If Iâm gonna grovel, might as well acknowledge youâre in a league of your own. » Â
As much as you appreciated witty banter, your faint smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. You pulled back, crossing your arms over your chest. « You think this is some sort of joke? » you asked coldly. « You think you can insult me twice in a row and that a clever wording is going to make it ok? ». He blinked, caught off guard. « Woah, hold up » he started, but you cut him off. « No, seriously, Marshall. You think calling me âhigh-maintenanceâ or joking about Birkin bags is cute? I never once asked for any of that stuff. »  Your words hit him like a slap. The air between the two of you grew heavier as your frustration spilled over. « Do you think throwing expensive gifts at me is some kind of substitute for actually being here? » you continued, your voice rising. « You waltz in with flashy things like itâs gonna make up for the fact that youâre barely present anymore. And then you have the audacity to crack a joke about it? Like Iâm some gold digger you need to bribe? » He opened his mouth to respond but faltered, realizing he had nothing to say that wouldnât make it worse. « You know what I value, Marshall? Time. Effort. Real things. Not overpriced bags or shoes or necklaces that just sit in a closet. If I wanted someone who could buy me things, I wouldnât have chosen you. I wanted you. But apparently, thatâs asking too much. » Â
Your voice cracked on the last words, and you quickly turned away, your hands gripping the doorframe as you tried to regain some composure. He stared at you, guilt gnawing at him. Every word youâd said was true, and he knew it. You werenât materialisticâyou never had been. The gifts had always been his way of showing love in the moments he couldnât be there, an attempt to show that he thought you deserved the very best, but now he saw how empty they must have felt without his presence to back them up. « Hey, » he said softly, stepping closer but keeping his distance. « Youâre right. I messed up. Again. » You didnât respond, your back still to him. « I thought the gifts⊠I donât know⊠I thought theyâd remind you how much you mean to me when I wasnât around. But I see now that it probably just felt like I was buying my way out of being a better boyfriend. » You turned to face him, eyes glistening but fierce. « Exactly. I donât care about the money, Marshall. I donât care about any of it. I would have loved you just as much if youâd been broke. What I care about is feeling like I actually matter to you. Like Iâm not just here for when itâs convenient. »Â
« You do matter, » he said, his voice thick with emotion. « More than anything. I know Iâve been screwing up left and right, lately, and you deserve way better than the half-assed version of me youâve been getting. » You studied him, your walls still up, unsure if you wanted to believe him. « Words arenât enough, Marshall. You know that. » He nodded with understanding. « I know, » he said quickly. « And Iâm not gonna stand here and tell you Iâve got all the answers or that Iâm magically gonna fix everything overnight. But Iâm gonna show you, piece by piece, day by day, that youâre not just some afterthought to me. I canât lose you. Not over this. Not over anything. » The raw sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You wanted to hold on to your anger, to make him work for it. But there was something in his eyesâa mix of regret and determinationâthat chipped away at your defenses. Damn baby blue eyes. « Youâve got a lot to prove, » you said after a long silence. « I know, » he replied, nodding earnestly. « And no more Birkin jokes, » you added sharply. He raised his hands in surrender. « Scoutâs honor. » For the first time in the conversation, your lips twitched into an actual smile. « Youâre lucky I care about you, you know that? » He exhaled in relief, stepping closer. « Nah, Iâm lucky for a million reasons. But mostly because youâre still willing to give me a chance to fix this. » Your eyes softened, though you werenât about to let him off the hook that easily. « Donât make me regret it.» Â
« I wonât, » he promised, taking your hand. « And for the record, youâre way more valuable than a Birkin bag. Like⊠priceless. Top-shelf, remember? » You rolled your eyes but didnât pull your hand away. « Youâre really pushing it. » He couldnât help but give you a shit-eating grin. « Yeah, but thatâs why you love me, right? ». Â
#eminem fanfiction#marshall mathers imagine#eminem x reader#eminem imagine#marshall mathers x reader#eminem fluff
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I feel like something that goes for TWIG is you and George dating and have not told anyone besides your families and someone from the grid unexpectedly comes over, like Alex or Charles, and they see feminine products around the apartment. Like your shoes, handbag, and/or maybe your bra (for some spice) and gets really curious.
(Anon, the way you concept here relates to the way I portrayed their early days relationship in the Winter Warmers blurb I wrote last night is a little scary...are we the same person?? But I love this SO MUCH (I actually wrote this as soon as it came in while actively in the office) thank you for submitting!)
Basically, yes, the overarching concept of wanting to be 100% private with the relationship to keep it out of the limelight and unwelcome social pressures of the Formula 1 world is so TWIG. George is a little nervous to have your relationship be so publicized and scrutinized because he doesn't want that to come between you...he's seen his friends' relationships crumble because of that and it terrifies him, honestly. But it feels normal without anyone knowing except yourselves and your close families...like he's a normal person in a normal relationship.
You'd come to some races that first year but with a regular paddock pass/'sponsored' by Mercedes, coming in on your own and away from him so as to not be associated together by the press, feeling like a whole secret spy and honestly it's kind of thrilling. Even most if not all of the team doesn't know: hardly even seeing you and George in the same room in Mercedes hospitality...you're never in the garage...you're honestly impressively good at flying under the radar.
Yeah, out of everyone it drives George a little crazy that he hasn't told Alex yet but he selfishly just wants to stay in this safe bubble of normal for a little longer. Even if that means virtually lying to his best friend.
You and George didn't live in the same city so for the first while of your relationship you were bouncing back and forth between each other's apartments (and halfway around the world on some race weekends...). It was not long at all really before there was a steady stock of your things at George's just to make traveling easier for you; face wash and shampoo and conditioner and some standard makeup and maybe an outfit or two. Honestly it came to a point where your things just felt so natural to him that they just blend into the background of his apartment like they were just meant to be there.
So when Alex showed up one random weekday, George almost didn't bat an eye. Almost. Until Alex was kicking off his shoes in the foyer and eyeing the second pair of sneakers by the door.
"Your feet shrink or something, George?"
The fib was out of George's mouth before he could think, "They're my sister's. She left them here."
With Alex pacified, George kept him in the living room, busying him with snacks and conversation like he wasn't silently freaking out that his lie would come out.
When Alex excused himself to the bathroom, George panic texted you from the couch. His knee bounced annoyingly with him stuck staring at your laughing emojis you replied with to his lengthy nervous ramble. Not helpful.
"Since when do you stock up on feminine hygiene products?" Alex asked the moment he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hands together like he was still washing them.
"I, uh...carry them in case anyone that needs them comes over. Like Lily." George stumbled out a mention of Alex's long-term girlfriend who, in reality, did come over sometimes. He then immediately deflected with a quick, "Since when do you go snooping under my sink?"
"I needed hand lotion and I know you have the good, expensive stuff that smells like a forest." Alex flexed his fingers out as he flopped back down on the couch, his skin shimmering just a bit in the sunlight through the living room window. But Alex was a little too trusting of his best friend and so he didn't feel too bothered by George's response. He was a nice enough guy, maybe he did keep stock for Lily or his sister or someone.
Third time was the charm when they had decided to watch a movie and George got up to make some popcorn. Alex got himself comfortable on the couch, rearranging the cushions and finding that sweet spot in the upholstery. But the sudden laugh that came from the living room had George stopping in the kitchen.
"George!" Alex called in that pitchy voice he got when he was far too excited and teasing him.
George appeared in the doorway to the living room to find Alex waving one of your bras around in the air. The look on his face must have been priceless because Alex nearly cackled, "You keeping a bra around for Lily when she stays over too or is this also your sister's?"
George took three quick strides over and snatched it from him, "It's not my fucking sister's."
"If you have a girlfriend, you can just tell me." Alex said, slightly calmer now but still housing that shit-eating grin on his face. "I don't know why you'd not tell me."
George sighed, feeling a little ridiculous standing there with your bra in his hand in front of his best friend who was set on getting the truth out of him. He shrugged, relenting, "We just...wanted to keep it out of the spotlight for a bit."
"I'm not the spotlight." Alex reminded him.
"Yeah, but you have a big mouth, Alex." George laughed lightly, teasingly, before fading out with a shake of his head, trying to explain, "It was nice just feeling normal. I know once the whole grid knows or the team it'll, like, start to blend...these two halves of my life...and I know how that can end up."
"You can't be scared of that, George." Alex said gently, "Not everyone crashes and burns. Lily and I are fine."
"Lily also is in a public career of her own so she knows how it goes." George replied softly, tentatively.
"This girl of yours isn't?"
George shook his head.
"Not a model? Social media? Athlete?"
George shook his head after each one.
Alex's eyebrows raised, "Don't tell me she's normal."
"Remember the girl who checked you into that hotel back in May?"
"That really narrows it down, George, thank you."
George huffed, "The one you were on me for staring at for far too long."
"Her? Oh my God, you actually got her to agree to go out with you?! But you're so boring!"
"Alexâ"
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Azris one-shot
listen. listenlistenlisten I don't know what this is, I just thought it would be nice to see Eris drool over some thick, meaty Azriel. Not my intention to make him sound like a well-cooked steak but alas.
I wrote this in a very short amount of time so if there's typos or issues my bad but also I'm trying to get better at *gestures vaguely* not caring so much that it stops me from posting :D
(be warned there is smut, semi-graphic but I'm still virgin-esque at this so not fully)
*drops this and runs*
...
Eris had never truly thought of itâlike looking at the sun straight on, it would probably burn him to do so. But that didn't mean he didn't see. Search the differences between two bodies and try and imagine where his hands would go on the soft curves of a waistline. The blush pink of kissed cheeks and satin skin framed by long, silken locks of hair. He could like it, could find the beauty in it, of course. But it was more like looking at flowers, the glimmer of sunlight on the surface of a lake. Such beauty was expected, known, and only to be looked at and admiredânothing to touch, certainly nothing to desire.
This body was different in all forms.
The camps had melded at some point, Eris had ended up somewhere different this time and honestly he was too stuck in his head to find his way back. The inky blue black of the night court wear became more common, Eris realized distantly he was somewhere in or close to the night court camp. Yet still, it wasn't enough to send him back-pedaling to his own camp, his own tent.
A male had come crashing to the earth, and Eris had seen skin. It was only once he had shut his agape mouth with a snap that he recognized the cobalt blaze of stones on the Illyrians chest and hands. Azrielâbecause surely he was forever cursed to only know that name, and so intimately that he knows the taste of his blood in his mouth yet doesn't know the shape the tattoo on his chest takes.
Azriel was yelling, tendons stark against his skin, sweat and a streak of blood across his forehead and jaw. His leathers were torn, from throat to nearly the waistline of his pants, hanging in ribbons around his body as he shucked off the arm of the male he was helping stagger to a medic. Something about the anger, so present it seemed to rattle his whole frame till those exposed parts of his body was jolting with it. Eris knew in some way that Illyrians are carved differently than autumn fae, even more so than high fae, yet it doesn't stop his mouth from going dry at the full look at just how different.
It's meatâhe thinks it half-crazed. A healthy thickness to Azriel's chest that brings a curve to his pectorals, flexing with his movements as he shoves away one of the males, still shouting. Eris follows the path easily down, like his own trail of droplets of water or sweat or whatever remains staining his skin that glossy bronze. The weight of those muscles continues further, bunching at his abdomen which heaves and flexes and the hollow of his navel catches the lightâ
Shit. Cauldron boil him there are no words strong enough to describe the pang of lust that strikes him blind right between the eyes. It must've traveled all the way down the line of his spine because suddenly Eris can't breathe, can't look away, can't do anything but stay stuck, standing and feeling for the first time what he thinks is the white hot flame of desire flickering at the base of his spine. Some tease, some gentle prodding of 'you see me now?'
It's not like he didn't know. Eris had dragged Azriel's unconscious body enough times to know how impossibly heavy he is. It doesn't matterâseeing it, even partially bared to him like this, may just be the thing to send him to his knees.
He wants it.
Cauldron damn him to Hel, he wants.
And he's never been good at it, getting a hand around himself and reaching some pinnacle, some kind of precipice of relief so grand it's all the males his age could whisper and talk about. But he thinks, a little wild, a little starved, he thinks if he had the full weight of that body between his thighs. If he had it, warm with blood and flush with heat, maybe keeping the stripe of dried blood on his stubbled jawâhe thinks he could do it. Find the kind of release the soldiers in his army seem to find easily between the legs of a female.
And that'sâthat's the problem. That's him, in the depths of the problem.
It's amazing how many realizations he comes to within the span of what can be no longer than a couple heart beats. But in one moment Eris is watching the way Azriel's powerful body moves, muscles flexing under the bronze glint of his skin, and the next they're meeting eyes. Eris's body had gone from bubbling with a new kind of heat to icy with dread. The kind he only knows in window-less cells, iron chains.
Azriel meets his eyes, even from paces away, and Eris curses to himself as he feels his stomach swoop. Trying to dip closer to where that flame had rested even though it's hardly anything more than a dimming ember now. His eyes narrow, and Eris just hopes he can't see any of the lingering tinges of lust in his own gaze. That everything he felt had been kept in his head away from the environment outside.
For a moment he thinks he has succeeded in maintaining that careless facade, Azriel's own gaze darkening and his mouth tightening with a scowl. But then something happens, faster than Eris can understand, and he watches through what feels like fog as something crosses the Illyrian's face. His head tips, predatory and watchful, and begins to walk over.
Eris breathes out harshly, refusing to admit that it comes out trembling, that there's a part of him shaking deep behind his rib cage in fear that Azriel saw. Saw what Eris tried to hide and is coming to make an example out of him.
Eris draws himself up, chin pointed and looking down his nose as Azriel gets closer.
"Can I help you?"
Azriel doesn't say anything, the silence unnerving, as he just watches Eris from under the shadow of his lashes.
"Behind you." He says, Eris has to work to ignore the swell of his pectorals in front of him.
He swallows hard, off-balance, "Iâpardon?"
"Tent, behind you, it's empty."
Eris starts to catch onâand it may not make a lot of sense, he may be welcoming his own murder, but there's something in the way Azriel's looking at him that brings the white hot flame back. The bubbles in his stomach, a clench at the base of his spine.
-
He's the first one in, the first one to cross the threshold of the tent but Azriel's not that far behind.
It's a different world when he steps through, maybe just a single moment in that world. A moment where Eris is allowed to look, to want.
And he wants.
-
Azriel's big, from up close and far away and right between his thighs the breadth of his shoulders is enough to send a tender ache through the muscles of his legs and the joints of his hips. It's messy from the startâtrying to stay quiet and Eris coming to the mortifying realization that he's miserably bad at that. So Azriel keeps his mouth on his, or slides his fingers between his lips when he asks for lubricant, or presses his whole palm down across his mouth when he slides in.
All of himâEris feels the length of him against the base of his spine and shivers hardâinside, pressed close, gods how can a body be so hot and not burn to ashes? And from there it's a chase. Eris keeps his teeth pinched in the meat of Azriel's scarred palm, and Azriel keeps his noises buried in the crook of his sweat-damp neck. He's all muscle, and there's no soft dip of a waist to cradle. There's no satin skin or delicate blush. Azriel is heavy, his stomach rolls over itself when his hips thrust back in, skin and muscle and Eris swears he can feel the flex of it all on his own neglected arousal.
His hands areâgods his handsâthey're rough and worn, yet every now and then one will leave their position branding his hips with petal-shaped bruises and come up to cradle the back of his head. They run gentle over the back of his thigh when he pries him apart furtherâasking for him to open his body more, thighs to hip to where he's split open and raw at the center of his being.
The scars themselves are finger-prints.
These aren't the hands of anyone, of any male. Eris knows now, as the heave of their chests gets dire; the air hot and wet between their mouths, the constant, hard push of his cock right up into that one place that sets his belly on fireâhe knows he'll forever remember this touch. Know these palms blind he swears he's been branded by the lightning-shaped ridges of them.
There's a moment where Eris loses sight, fingers locked in silken raven hair, as his hips move in harder, faster, his eyes rolling back to the point white sparks dance behind them. It's the end, some primal part of him knows what's coming even if he's never reached pleasure like this, and yet he digs in further with his nails, his heels as if keeping Azriel close will stave off the inevitable.
It does the opposite, Azriel's grunting low in his throat, animalistic and wanting and Eris sighs a soft moan when he feels the indentation of teeth at the hinge of his jaw. The noises their bodies make is nearly enough to send him off, but he's hanging there, just at the edge, just waiting.
Azriel's biceps flex, reaching under Eris's thighs and pulling them out and up so the backs of his knees rest in the crooks of his arms. He's folded, bared even further than he possibly thought he could beâfeeling the roll of his own skin against himself and wondering when it got so wet. Gods does it do it, though. Azriel keeps himself closer than ever, hot breath against his cheek as Eris claws at him, a wail muffled behind his own hand, and feels the break through his body.
The angle, the pressure against that one perfect spot, Azriel's warmth and weight drawing so much heat from him, into him, everything snaps in one moment.
Azriel is there through it all, when Eris futilely arches up in some form of welcoming the lightning branding his spine, and when he comes back down. Still coiled tight under Azriel's working hips, though they falter in pace again, and again, and once more before Azriel curls over Eris's sweat-soaked, shaking body like the protective limbs of a tree.
The weight of his heaving stomach pressing against Eris's own makes him swallow hard, carding a trembling hand through Azriel's tangled locks, wondering if the scent of sex will stick to him like sunlight or if he'll only smell like he would after a battle, a sparring match. For a moment it's easy, gentle, breathing together and trying to find the balance they had completely lost once they crossed the threshold of the tent. Eris doesn't mind, the company is nice, even the ache of the stretch which has grown into a dull throb is pleasant.
It's the after he's dreading. The unsticking of their bodies, because Eris is warm here, and he knows deep down when Azriel pries himself away something vital will be ripped from him.
But it's a quick tryst in an empty tent, they both have things to do, and Azriel still has dried blood flaking on his cheeks. Eris supposes he can keep the memory of it for himself, just a little while.
...
(can you tell I didn't know how to end it)
um so like Hi. It's been a minute I blame college and my abysmal time management. First azris thing I've written in m o n t h s and man am I rusty but wow it feels good to get these two freaks back on my page đ
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of the stars, of the stars
cw. f!reader, pre-canon, pre-5.3, elder!reader, masters of the night-wind!reader, hurt and comfort, established relationship
pairing. citlali x reader
synopsis. you've known citlali for many moons and many stars. in over 200 years of knowing each other, this is probably the angriest you've been at her. (or, you and your dear friend become grandparents.)
notes. you can roll your neck and stomp your feet but this black girl last wrote a genshin fic in april. but this has been in my thoughts since playing the the 5.1 archon quest. yes, op fans, that was a heart of gold reference. yes, fmab fans, that was a bradley reference. divider by @/cafekitsune
"A gentle smile, a dignified smile, your adorable smile," you rasp, on the nth loop of your pacing in your front yard. How many times have you sung this song in the past 20 minutes? You stopped counting after 5 but still you had continued singing the only song that was able to stall the boy's tears. "Silver hearts and gold hearts, I'll give them all to you. Alchemy, Alchema. Hold the gold star-"
"That's not a song from the Masters."
With your song halted, you quickly adjust to bouncing the child in your arms. Yet your efforts were all for not and as the eruption of tears started once again, you can't stop yourself from groaning in frustration.
Recently fed, unsoiled diaper, no immediate signs for why he was unable to settle to settle down.
"Baby," you beg the boy with every fiber of your being to settle down for his nap. "We've been through this for the past hour! I can't keep singing, I have work to do!"
Balking at your sharp look, Citlali looks at you apologetically. "Sorry," she murmurs. In your chest, a flicker of upset stirs but it is not directed as the child in your arms. In Citlali's hands there is a basket filled to the brim with various goods ăŒ loose cloth, seasonings, and what seems to be some sort of milk source among other things.
The goods do little to sway your mood.
You hold each other's gaze for one, two, three seconds before you shake your head with a huff, turning your gaze back on the brown-skinned boy in your arms. There's a pause, a shuffle before a pair of thin arms come into your line of sight. "Let me," it's practically a plea. "You look like you need a break."
A baby wailing in your ears, your eyes burning every time you blink. It's with your uncountable sigh of the afternoon that you relent. "Do what you will," you wave a hand uncaringly in the direction of your door steps. "Lord of the Night knows I'm exhausting my options."
Tenderly, the wolf-eared child is passed from your arms to Citlali's and she lowers herself even more cautiously as she sits where you've indicated.
A few whimpers, a hiccup and a tentative press into her chest and the child settles. Color you surprised, you silently release a breath and slide a hand across your face, fingers settling against your chin. Citlali looks more surprised than you, with her raised eyebrows and wide pupils. It's almost instinctive how the purple-haired woman looks up at you with a smile, it falters less than a second later.
Suddenly it's Citlali's gaze turning onto the baby boy who is finding the realm of dreams more interesting.
"Some of us have the gift," you grumble, turning to prod at what your oldest companion delivered. "Apparently I'm not one of them."
There's another pause. Only the occasional call of nearby iktomisaurs offer that much assistance.
You tilt and turn a jar of what you presume to be a jar of spices from Sumeru. You've enjoyed adding them to your cooking since you were 51 after meeting a traveling scholar from Sumeru studying Natlan's Ley Lines, or lack thereof. Nasrin, she was called. You met by coincidence at the Chuwen Fair and a friendship had been sparked.
How long it's been since then?
Citlali had been subjected to your experiments at making Sumeran cuisine once you'd returned home.
You set down the spice jar in exchange for a sachet that smells distinctively of dried windwheel asters and embercore flowers. An interesting combination but one you've been fond of the past few years after encountering an interesting character from Mondstadt, a hardy man named Varka. Your appreciation of Mondstadt's flora had been planted by him. You wonder how he's doing now.
Not everything in here is for the baby, you want to say. You brush your thumb against the purple-black of the fabric. "It's from the Children," you mutter instead and there's a sound of surprise. "The song," you clarify, returning the sachet from where you found it and you turn back around with your arms crossed. "My mother from the Children of Echoes used to sing it to me when I was a little girl. You're lucky, boy," you tell the sleeping child. "Growing up across two tribes, I've got plenty of stories for you and a variety of tunes."
Citlali's own smile returns albeit hesitantly, "I see." She hums a brief tune you're unable to discern. "I remember her visits. She came with your grandfather once, he scared me."
You can't help a chuckle, "everyone was scared of him until they talked to him." Even your mother from the Night-Winds long, long ago. You remember how you and Citlali had laughed at her recollection of meeting him the first time. How she apparently insisted he didn't like her while Mom insisted in return that it was just his face.
Mom's argument won.
It was just his face.
"I never thought he had a scary face until I got older," you admit, shaking your head in amusement. "Then I looked back on it and thought, 'maybe I can see what my friends were talking about'."
You share a laugh once again for a short moment before silence falls between you both once again. Smiles fade and it feels as cool as the Cryo Vision on Citlali's hip.
This is good, you want to think.
Everything worked out, you want to think.
Move past this.
Your fingers pinch your forehead. You've never been good at keeping your mouth shut, however. This is true even now as you finally, finally ask, "what on Teyvat were you thinking?"
You've known Citlali for many moons and many stars. She had been your first friend when you moved from your childhood home after it had been discovered you had natural talents as Spiritspeaker.
Was the one you endured years of rigorous training with.
Many of your friends and family are dead and gone. You've seen all of Natlan change in the years you've lived. Citlali has been one of the few things in your life that is as constant as the long-lived traditions of your tribe. Something that won't change for who knows how many centuries you may continue living.
She's your partner.
Wife.
The one you always return to.
("How can a hag whose barely home give me love advice?"
"Citlali is the woman I chose; there's nothing more that needs to be said between us. That's why we're the longest-lived couple in Natlan, brat.")
In over 200 years of knowing each other, this is probably the angriest you've been at her.
"You weren't here," she says softly, shrinking into herself.
"Did I have to be," you shoot back, just short of yelling. When the child stirs, your mouth clamps shut and you inhale deeply trying to calm yourself.
There are no lies in her words; you hadn't been there when this child with a fragmented soul had been discovered. Nor had you been there when Chief Masoro concocted their plan to sacrifice said child and decided to ask the opinions of the eldest members of the tribe.
You'd been off visiting the Children, visiting descendants of family long since past. You'd been off gallivanting with the Scions, exchanging cups with newly minted companions. You'd been off viewing the changes grand and miniscule that had accumulated over the decades in this country in which you were born. You'd been everywhere but home.
Sure as the leaves weave in whichever direction the wind blows, you go back and forth between holing up in your abode and traveling the land.
Uhuru.
Freedom.
As sure as the moon will rise you have oft lived up to your Ancient Name. You are no stranger to the unexpected, going with the flow much like a wayfinder navigates the tides. Perhaps that why you were gifted a Hydro Vision than what you expected would be Anemo.
Yet never in your wildest dreams did you imagine coming home to a failed ritual to make an infant a vessel for lost souls to return to the Night Kingdom. What's worse is that Citlali had nothing to stop it in your absence. "I didn't need to be here to tell you that was a terrible, horrific idea."
"I never said 'yes'," you know that tone. The one where she falters, unable to say what comes next and in spite of your fury, you are able to wait for what she says next. "But I never said 'no' either. I am⊠ashamed. And relieved. When it failed, I was so relieved," her shoulders shake and you don't need to see Citlali's face to know she is crying. "There's nothing I can do to take it back, but I'm still so relieved."
She's always been easy to cry whether angry or stressed. Crybaby Citlali, you'd occasionally tease her. That would get a minor hex tossed your way every time.
Even when you're upset with her, you can't stop yourself from lowering yourself to sit beside her. As if punishing herself, she doesn't move so you make the movement for her ăŒ wrapping your arm around pale shoulders gingerly to tuck her into yourself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sniffs and you rest your head against pastel purple hair.
She weeps and weeps until the afternoon azure sky starts turning carmine and vermillion. Until there's nothing left for her to cry you sit with Citlali through it all.
"Sorry for not coming home sooner," you give her a gentle squeeze, not wanting to disturb the infant in her arms.
"I'm sorry for not telling Mosoro to wait until you were here to consult the both of us."
"I'm sorry for traveling so much."
"I'm sorry for-"
You stop the apology fest before Citlali can say anything else, "alright, I think we've apologized enough."
The laughter between you both is quiet but light, so is the tension that has heavily looming over you for the past week. "Fine," Citlali cedes. "You win. This time."
You snort wordlessly.
"And for Archon's sake," it's your wife's turn to huff, looking much more like her usual self. Blue eyes glare at you in amusement. "We need to name him already. You can't keep calling him 'Baby', what if he starts reacting to it?"
"Well why don't you come up with his name, O Wise One?"
Citlali is quick to snip that she will be naming the boy in your care. "Ororon," she says after a good five minutes have past. "Ororon is a powerful name. And he likes it, don't you, Ororon?"
He isn't even awake to hear it. "Yeah," you agree regardless. "He likes it. Granny Itztli picked out a good one for you." It's a big name for one so small, but you have no doubts the boy will one day grow into it. "We've really skipped some steps," the air is warm, unsurprising for the land of Pyro. But it's touch more hopeful than usual, like the atmosphere of the nation after another battle with the Abyss. Just as your people rebuild after every attack, the two of you can rebuild from this. "Normally people have kids before they start having grandchildren. The arcane arts never prepared us for this."
Citlali stifles a yawn, "no, no it hasn't."
#look she's writing#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#citlali x reader#citlali#ororon#very self indulgent; i clearly had a lot of thoughts
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In the Space Between: Chapter 7
Other Chapters:
Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I
Chapter 6
Pairing: Glen Powell x OC
Summary: Glen is getting ready to head to Austin for some time with his family, but wants to spend one last evening with Gabby. They settle in at his place, ordering takeout, and cuddling up on the couch. Then he invites Gabby to spend the night, enjoying one last evening together.
Word Count: 5.6k
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mentions of Alcohol, SMUT (Nudity, Missionary Position it's their first time...it may get more kinky later, I don't know yet. But there's nothing wrong with a little vanilla.)
A/N: So after the last chapter I've been writing this one basically non-stop. Normally I hit bumps along the way which is why it's usually 5-7 days between chapters. But I wrote this one in like two and didn't want to wait to post, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!
Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado
The days following their first breakfast together settled into a comfortable rhythm, as though Glen and Gabby had been a part of each otherâs lives for much longer than a few weeks. They fell into an easy balance of spending time together while keeping up with their individual responsibilities. Some nights were spent at Gabbyâs cozy apartment, the two of them cooking simple meals side by side, the radio playing softly in the background as they laughed about Glenâs inability to chop onions without tearing up. Other nights were at Glenâs place, where they sprawled on his couch, eating takeout straight from the containers and watching movies they only half-paid attention to, too absorbed in their conversation to care about the plot.
When they werenât together, they stayed in touch. Gabby found herself smiling at the occasional texts Glen sent throughout the dayâsometimes a photo of his dog napping in a patch of sunlight, other times a joke or comment about the podcast recording heâd just finished. In return, she sent him snapshots of her coffee-fueled study sessions, complete with exaggerated captions about the âthrilling life of a student.â It wasnât overbearing or constant, just enough to remind them both that the other was thinking of them.
Despite the ease of their time together, neither pushed to define what was happening between them. They hadnât taken things publicâGlenâs fame adding a layer of complexity neither of them was eager to rush intoâbut there was an unspoken understanding that, for now, they were simply enjoying the moments they had. Each interaction felt natural, like the slow unfolding of something neither of them had expected but both were beginning to treasure.
By the end of Glenâs first week off, the lines between his world and Gabbyâs had started to blur in small, significant ways. It wasnât just that his spare toothbrush had found a spot in her bathroom or that his favorite blanket had been claimed as hers during their movie nights. It was the way they talked, the way they moved around each other, the way they found themselves looking forward to the next time without ever having to say it.
The hum of Gabbyâs car engine filled the silence as she pulled into her apartment parking lot, her mind still replaying the events of her busy day. She was already planning on collapsing onto the couch with a bowl of cereal when her phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Picking it up, she smiled as Glenâs name lit up the screen.
Glen: Hey, you free tonight?
The message was simple, but she could practically hear his voice in her head, that mix of charm and warmth that made her stomach flip every time. She bit her lip, typing out a quick reply.
Gabby: I think I can squeeze you into my schedule đ
His response was almost instant.
Glen: Good, because I was hoping to steal you for the evening. Come over?
She laughed softly, the exhaustion from her day momentarily forgotten.
Gabby: Whatâs the occasion?
A few dots appeared on the screen as he typed.
Glen: You. Me. One last quiet night before I head to Austin. No agenda, just us.
Gabbyâs heart fluttered at the sincerity in his words. It was rare for someone to make her feel this... wanted. Not in a grand, sweeping way, but in the quiet, meaningful moments that reminded her how much she liked having him in her life.
Gabby: Iâm on my way.
Sliding her phone back into her bag, she took a deep breath and shifted the car back into drive. A quiet night with Glen sounded like exactly what she needed.
Gabby pulled up to Glenâs house, the low glow of the porch light illuminating the familiar front door. Her heart skipped a beat as she grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and made her way up the steps. Before she could even knock, the door swung open, and Brisket came barreling toward her, tail wagging furiously.
âHey, buddy!â Gabby crouched down, laughing as the dog nudged his head against her hands, soaking up all the attention she was more than happy to give. âWere you waiting for me, huh? Such a good boy!â
Glen leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his face. âNice to see you too, babe,â he drawled, feigning offense.
Gabby glanced up at him, still scratching behind Brisketâs ears, her eyes sparkling with amusement. âOh, sorry. Didnât see you there.â She stood up, brushing her hands off on her jeans as she stepped closer to him.
Glen chuckled, shaking his head. âUh-huh. Sure.â
Before he could say anything else, Gabby slipped her arms around his waist, tilting her head up to look at him. âHi.â
His teasing expression softened as he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer. âHi,â he murmured back, his voice warm and low.
He dipped his head, their lips meeting in a slow, unhurried kiss, the kind that made the world outside his front door disappear. Brisket let out a little huff, circling at their feet as if to remind them he was still there. Gabby pulled back slightly, smiling against Glenâs lips.
âLooks like someoneâs jealous,â she whispered.
Glen glanced down at the dog, who was now pawing at Gabbyâs leg, clearly not done being the center of attention.Â
âCan you blame him?â Glen asked, his lips quirking into a grin.
Gabby laughed, giving Brisket one last pat before Glen stepped aside to let her in.Â
âCome on,â he said, resting a hand lightly on her back as they walked into the house. âIâve got wine chilling and takeout on the way. Thought we could keep it low-key tonight.â
âSounds perfect,â Gabby replied, feeling her shoulders relax as she slipped off her shoes.
The doorbell rang, cutting through their conversation. Brisket barked once, trotting toward the door, his tail wagging.
âThatâll be the food,â Glen said, brushing a hand against Gabbyâs arm as he passed her.
He returned a moment later, balancing a stack of takeout containers in one hand while shutting the door with the other. Gabby watched as he brought the bags to the kitchen counter and began unpacking them, the familiar aroma of Thai food filling the room.
âWhat do I owe you?â she asked, stepping closer to the counter.
Glen glanced at her over his shoulder, his brows furrowing slightly as if the question surprised him. âNothing. Donât worry about it.â
âGlen,â she said, folding her arms. âI mean it. I donât want youâor me, for that matterâfeeling like Iâm taking advantage of you.â
He paused, turning to look at her fully. âWhat are you talking about?â
âYouâve paid for everything so far,â she said, motioning to the takeout. âDinner on our first date, every DoorDash order, everything. I donât want it to seem like Iâm just⊠letting you take care of everything.â
Glen leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as he considered her words. âYou buy groceries when we cook at your place,â he pointed out.
Gabby tilted her head, giving him a skeptical look.
âWhat?â Glen asked, smirking now.
âIâm serious,â she said, her voice soft but firm. âI donât want you to feel like Iâm using you.â
His expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. He stepped toward her, his hands settling lightly on her waist.Â
âGabby,â he said gently, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her shirt. âI donât think that at all. I wouldnât have asked you over if I did.â
She let out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly, but he wasnât done.Â
âLook,â he continued, âitâs still early, yeah. But these are our dates. I was raised that the guy is supposed to pay on the datesâ
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she raised a brow. âSupposed to?â
âYup,â he said confidently, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.
âThatâs such an old school thing.â She rolled her eyes, earning a low chuckle from him.
âWait a second,â he said, his tone teasing as he tilted his head at her. âDid you just roll your eyes at me?â
Gabby met his gaze, challenging. âWhat if I did?â
His grin widened, and without another word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. She gasped softly as his warm breath ghosted against her skin, his voice low as he murmured, âThen I might have to make you take it back.â
Her laugh turned into a quiet hum as his kisses deepened, his hands sliding to her lower back to pull her closer. She threaded her fingers into his hair, and before she could think, Glenâs hands lifted her onto the counter.
Glenâs lips moved against hers with a growing urgency, his hands steady on her hips as he pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. Gabbyâs fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as her breath hitched.
âGlen,â she managed between kisses, her voice soft and a little breathless.
âHmm?â he hummed against her lips, his hands trailing to her thighs.
âThe food,â she murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, though her hands didnât leave his hair.
âWhat about it?â he asked, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting against hers as his hands tightened their hold on her.
âItâs going to get cold,â she pointed out, her tone half-hearted, as though she wasnât entirely convinced it mattered.
Glen grinned, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth as he whispered, âIâm hungry for something else.â
Her laugh was soft and breathy, and she gave him a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. âGlen,â she said again, her tone firmer this time, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
He groaned dramatically, letting his forehead drop to her shoulder as he sighed.Â
âFine,â he muttered, pulling back just enough to help her slide off the counter. âWe can eat.â
Gabby smirked, smoothing her shirt as she stepped back toward the counter, her cheeks still flushed. âThank you for your sacrifice.â
He shot her a playful glare as he grabbed the takeout containers, setting them on the counter with a bit more flair than necessary.Â
âBut just so weâre clear,â he said, his tone serious even as his lips quirked into a grin, âIâm coming back for dessert later.â
She didnât respond, but the warmth in her smile and the quick glance she gave him said enough.
As they settled at the counter with their takeout containers spread out between them, the casual clinking of chopsticks and soft rustle of food filled the air. Glen cracked open the lid of his container and took a sniff. "Okay, this might be the best-smelling food Iâve ever had," he said, grabbing a generous bite.
Gabby raised an eyebrow as she poked at her dumplings. âYou said that about the tacos we had last night.â
âYeah, but this time I mean it,â he shot back, his mouth full enough to make her wrinkle her nose.
They ate in comfortable silence for a moment before Glen leaned his chin on his hand, watching her. âSo, whatâs your guilty pleasure food?â
Gabby paused mid-bite, considering. âHmm. Probably mac and cheese. But like, the boxed kind. The neon orange powder stuff. None of that fancy baked nonsense.â
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âI knew you were secretly a five-year-old.â
She gave him a mock glare. âHey, donât knock it till youâve had it Mr. Wonât Eat Cheese. What about you?â
âEasy,â he said, without hesitation. âPop-Tarts. Strawberry. No frosting.â
âNo frosting?â she exclaimed, looking genuinely horrified. âWhat kind of monster eats Pop-Tarts without frosting?â
âThis kind,â he said proudly, tapping his chest. âTheyâre better that way.â
âYouâre objectively wrong,â she declared, shaking her head in mock disbelief.
âGuess weâll have to agree to disagree.â He shrugged, reaching for another bite of pad Thai.
âOr,â she countered, narrowing her eyes, âyouâll have to come over for breakfast sometime and let me prove you wrong.â
His brows lifted in interest. âYouâre challenging me to a Pop-Tart showdown?â
âAbsolutely,â she said with a confident nod. âFrosted strawberry will change your life.â
Glen laughed, the kind of laugh that felt easy and genuine. âAlright, deal. But donât cry when you realize youâve been living a lie.â
âYeah, okay,â she said, smirking. âWeâll see about that.â
The conversation drifted as they kept eating, dipping into lighter topics like movies they loved and places they wanted to visit someday. There was a warmth between them, the kind that made the night feel effortless, as though theyâd been doing this for years rather than weeks.
When Gabby reached for the last dumpling, Glen swooped in with his chopsticks, snatching it right before she could.
âHey!â she protested, staring at him in mock betrayal.
He grinned as he popped it into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. âYou snooze, you lose.â
âYouâre the worst,â she said, though her smile betrayed her.
âAnd yet, here you are,â he replied, leaning back in his seat with a triumphant grin.
After dinner, Gabby stood and started gathering up the empty containers, stacking them neatly as Glen leaned back against the counter, watching her with a satisfied smile.
âYou donât have to do that,â he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
âItâs no big deal,â she replied, waving him off as she carried the trash over to the bin. âYou bought dinner, and wouldnât let me pay for at least my share. So the least I can do is help clean up.â
She noticed a couple of dishes in the sinkâa stray coffee mug and a plate from earlier in the day. Without hesitation, she rolled up her sleeves and started rinsing them off.
âGabby,â Glen said, his tone warning, as he moved to stand behind her. âWhat are you doing?â
âCleaning,â she answered simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
âThis is my house,â he reminded her, stepping closer. âAnd my rules clearly state: no guests do chores.â
She glanced at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. âOh, is that so?â
âIt is.â His voice held a playful firmness, but Gabby wasnât one to back down easily.
âWell,â she said, turning back to the dishes and continuing to rinse, âIâm not a guest, technically. Iâm more of aâwhatâs the term? Frequent flyer? That means the rule doesnât apply to me.â
âFrequent flyer?â he repeated, amused. âYouâre really stretching here, babe.â
âCall it what you want,â she quipped, reaching for the dish soap. âBut Iâm finishing these.â
Glen moved quickly, stepping close enough that she could feel the warmth of him at her back. She turned, ready to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her. His brow lifted, silently telling her to drop it.
âGlenââ
Before she could say another word, he cupped her face and kissed her. It wasnât rushed or heated, but slow and deliberate, his lips brushing hers just enough to make her heart stutter. He pulled back just slightly, their foreheads nearly touching.
âLet me do it,â he murmured, his voice low and coaxing.
Gabby blinked up at him, momentarily disarmed. âYouâre using kissing to get your way now?â
âMaybe,â he admitted with a small smirk. âIs it working?â
She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a reluctant smile. âFine. But only because youâre stubborn.â
âStubborn and charming,â he corrected, taking the sponge from her hand and tossing it into the sink. âNow, go relax while I handle this.â
âYouâre impossible,â she muttered, stepping aside.
âTrue,â he called over his shoulder as he began cleaning up the counter. âBut you like me anyway.â
Gabby laughed, shaking her head as she leaned against the kitchen island. Watching Glen hum softly while he tidied up, she couldnât help but think that, yes, she liked himâa little more than she cared to admit.
The evening slowly shifted into that quiet, comfortable lull that comes when two people are perfectly content in each other's company. Gabby was perched on the couch, her legs curled beneath her as she absently scrolled through a playlist on her phone, and Glen was sitting next to her, leaning back against the cushions with his arm draped casually along the backrest.
As the last song of her playlist faded, Glen glanced over at her, his hazel eyes warm but hesitant. âHey,â he said softly, his tone different nowâgentler, more deliberate.
Gabby turned to him, her head tilting slightly. âYeah?â
His hand reached for hers, threading their fingers together as he gave a small smile. âDo you, uh⊠want to stay the night?â
Her heart gave a quick, surprised flutter. Theyâd spent plenty of time together over the last week, but this felt differentâmore significant, somehow.
âAre you sure?â she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
Glen gave her hand a soft squeeze and nodded, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual confidence. âYeah. I want you here, with me.â
Gabbyâs lips curved into a small smile as she nodded. âOkay,â she said simply.
He smiled back, relief flickering across his face, and stood, tugging her gently to her feet.Â
âCome on,â he said, his voice dipping lower as he led her toward his bedroom.
Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm, golden light across the room, making it feel cozy and intimate. Glen turned to face her, his hands resting lightly on her hips as she looked up at him, her breath catching.
He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss that quickly deepened. Gabbyâs hands slid up to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled her closer. The world outside seemed to fade as they got lost in each other, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world.
Glenâs hands skimmed her sides, his touch firm but careful, and when he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression was tender. His lips found hers again, and this time there was no hesitation. The kiss turned hungrier, more urgent, as they backed toward the bed. Glenâs hands moved to the hem of her top, and when she nodded her silent permission, he carefully lifted it over her head and tossed it aside.
She mirrored his movements, her hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt until he pulled it off and let it drop to the floor. For a moment, they paused, their eyes locking as if to silently check in with each other.
âThis all okay?â he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Gabby nodded again, a small, nervous laugh escaping her. Glen reached for her hand again, intertwining their fingers as he guided her gently toward the bed. The quiet confidence in his movements steadied the fluttering nerves that Gabby felt bubbling just beneath the surface. As the backs of her knees brushed the edge of the mattress, Glen paused, looking down at her as if he was committing every detail to memoryâthe soft curve of her lips, the way her hair framed her face, the trust in her eyes.
Still holding her hand, he leaned down, brushing his lips across hers in a kiss so gentle it sent shivers down her spine. She let out a soft sigh, her free hand moving instinctively to rest against his chest, her fingertips grazing the warmth of his skin.
Glen smiled against her lips, the corners of his mouth curving in that way that always made her heart skip. "Youâre so beautiful," he murmured, his voice quiet but heavy with sincerity.
Gabby felt her cheeks flush, and she ducked her head slightly, unable to hide the small, bashful smile that tugged at her lips. âYouâre just saying that,â she whispered.
He tipped her chin back up with a single finger, his eyes meeting hers. âIâm not,â he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
Before she could reply, his lips captured hers again, this time with more urgency. As the kiss deepened, Glenâs hands found her waist, and he guided her back onto the bed, following her down until they were both lying against the soft comforter.
Gabbyâs heart raced as Glen hovered above her, his weight supported by his arms on either side of her. His gaze swept over her, equal parts admiration and restraint, as if he wanted to take his time but was finding it harder with every passing second.
âYou sure about this?â he asked softly, his voice low and almost reverent.
Her answer was immediate, her hands sliding up to cradle his face. âIâm sure,â she whispered, pulling him down for another kiss.
Glenâs lips moved from hers, tracing a slow, deliberate path along her jaw and down the curve of her neck. Gabbyâs breath hitched as he lingered at the sensitive spot just below her ear, his warm breath sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin.
Her hands roamed over his back, exploring the planes of muscle there as he continued to press soft, heated kisses along her collarbone. When his lips found their way back to hers, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
As the kiss deepened, Glenâs hands began to move with quiet certainty, his fingers brushing over the waistband of her jeans. Gabbyâs breath caught in her throat as she felt his gentle tug, pulling the fabric down over her hips. She hesitated for a brief second, her stomach tightening with a sudden, unfamiliar feeling.
The jeans were gone in seconds, but as he moved to remove her shirt, Gabby instinctively covered herself with her hands, suddenly aware of every inch of exposed skin. She felt a flush creep across her chest, her breath shallow as she avoided his gaze for just a moment.
Glen paused, noticing the shift in her energy. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, the tenderness in his gaze giving her an almost overwhelming sense of comfort.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked softly, his hands still resting on her waist, the warmth of his touch grounding her.
Gabby shook her head quickly, trying to brush it off. âNothing,â she said, offering him a half-smile. âJust⊠I donât know. Iâm fine.â
But Glen didnât buy it. His brow furrowed in concern as he searched her eyes, sensing the unease she was trying to hide. His fingers gently cupped her face, urging her to meet his gaze.
âGabs, hey,â he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. âTalk to me.â
She sighed, her body tensing under the weight of her vulnerability. She was used to being comfortable with Glen, but nowâshe felt exposed. And it terrified her.
âI just... I donât know,â she said, her voice trailing off as she gestured at herself. âIâm not exactlyââ She cut herself off, the insecurity creeping in again.
Glenâs eyes softened, and his expression changed to one of pure understanding. He moved slowly, deliberately, his hands trailing down her arms, coaxing her to relax.Â
âYouâre beautiful,â he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
Gabby opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips.
âNo,â he said, his voice firm but tender. âYou are. And Iâm not just saying that or because Iâm your boyfriend or whatever else you were about to say.â
Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his words, but she still felt that twinge of insecurity, the nagging thought that she didnât look like the women in magazines or the ones she imagined heâd been with before.
But before she could say anything more, Glen lowered himself beside her, his lips finding the sensitive skin just below her ear. His kisses were slow, soft, and deliberate, each one trailing down her neck, over her collarbone, and slowly, carefully, down her chest.
âYouâre so fucking beautiful,â he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with admiration. His lips moved lower, brushing across her stomach, and Gabby let out a shaky breath, her body shuddering with each kiss. âEvery inch of you is beautiful,â he whispered against her skin.
Gabby closed her eyes, the warmth of his kisses and the sincerity in his words slowly melting away her insecurities. She felt his hands roam along her body, exploring her with such reverence that it felt like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. His lips, soft but insistent, found their way back to hers, kissing her.
Glen pulled away just slightly, his eyes meeting hers again. âYouâre perfect, Gabby,â he said, his voice thick with emotion. âAnd you donât need to be anything but yourself for me.â
Gabbyâs chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. The vulnerability, the raw honesty between them, made her heart swell in a way she wasnât prepared for. She reached for him, pulling him back down into a kiss, letting her hands wander over his back, feeling the heat of his skin, grounding herself in the reality of this moment.
It was slow and tender, the kind of kiss that felt like more than just passionâit was a promise. A promise that, despite her insecurities, she was worthy of this, of him.
Glenâs hands were steady as he slowly slid her underwear down her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. She inhaled sharply, the tension between them thickening, her heart beating faster. When she was completely exposed to him, she couldnât help but glance down, her eyes tracing the line of his body as he undressed. The sight of himâcompletely bareâmade her pulse quicken.
Once he was bare before her, he leaned down, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. He crawled back onto the bed, his body brushing against hers as he kissed her again, slow and deliberate, his lips trailing over hers in a heated, tender kiss. Gabbyâs breath caught in her throat as she felt the weight of him, all of him, pressing closer, and yet there was an undeniable gentleness in the way he kissed her.
He slid his hand up to her face, cupping it softly as their lips moved together. She kissed him back with an intensity of her own, her hands running up and down his back, feeling every inch of the muscles she had admired from a distance. She couldnât help but smile against his lips, that nagging insecurity from earlier slowly melting away with every kiss, every touch, every second they spent together.
Glen pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers. He was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling as he smiled softly at her. âYou good?â he whispered, his voice low and husky.
Gabby nodded, her hands sliding down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under her fingertips. âIâm good,â she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. And for the first time in a while, she truly felt itâgood, real, safe.
Glen pulled away just slightly, his hand moving to the nightstand. Gabby watched him curiously, but then understood when she saw the small box in his hand. He looked at her for a moment, his expression soft but serious.
Gabby nodded. Glen carefully opened the box and retrieved a condom, a quiet moment of practicality amidst the heat of the moment. He gave her a reassuring smile as he slid it on.
"Still sure about this?" he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. Gabby nodded, feeling more at ease now that she knew they were both on the same page.
"Yeah," she murmured, smiling up at him, appreciating the care heâd shown. "Iâm sure."
As Glen positioned himself above her, he moved slowly, giving her time to adjust. When he finally slid into her, both of them paused.
Gabbyâs breath hitched as she felt the initial stretch, a slight discomfort making her eyes flutter shut. Sheâd imagined this moment, but the reality was differentâmore intimate, more overwhelming. She could feel herself tense, it having been a while since sheâd been with anyone.
But then, Glenâs hands found her face, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he murmured against her ear, âYouâre doing great. Just breathe, babe. Iâll go slow.â
His words grounded her, bringing her focus back to him. His presence was calm and steady, and the tenderness in his gaze told her everything she needed to know. Slowly, the discomfort eased, and Gabby let out a breath she hadnât realized she was holding.
Glenâs hands moved to her waist, helping her adjust as he began to move, slowly at first, giving her the space she needed. Every inch of him was careful, focused on her, his eyes locked on hers as if he were waiting for any sign that she needed a break. âTell me if you need me to stop,â he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.
Gabbyâs breath was shallow, but with each movement, the discomfort slowly faded, replaced by something deeper, something more intense. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, her hands gripping his back as she began to meet his movements, urging him on.
Glen kissed her forehead, his lips soft against her skin, whispering more reassurances as they moved together. His voice was hoarse with the effort of holding back, his movements becoming more urgent but still patient, still focused on making sure she was okay.
Gabby, feeling the heat building between them, nodded, her body responding to his in a way that made her forget about the earlier discomfort.Â
âIâm okay now. You can go faster,â she whispered back, her voice barely audible, but it was enough.
Glenâs pace quickened then, his movements more desperate. As the tension built, Gabby found herself spiraling, lost in the sensation, and with one final whisper of his name, she reached the peak, her body trembling beneath him.
He followed soon after, his name leaving her lips in a breathless moan as they both rode out their highs together.
After Glen collapsed beside her, pulling her close as they both tried to catch their breath, their bodies tangled together beneath the soft covers. Gabby nestled into his chest, her head resting against his shoulder, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
But the silence was comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies pressed together.
âYou okay?â Glen finally asked his hand tracing patterns along her back.
Gabby smiled, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips.Â
âYeah,â she whispered, her voice full of warmth and trust.
After the shared silence of their embrace, Glen gently pressed a kiss to Gabbyâs forehead before slipping out of bed. His movements were slow, and careful, as if not wanting to disturb the peace between them.Â
âIâll be right back,â he whispered, and she nodded, her eyes closing as she listened to the soft sounds of him moving around the room.
When he returned, he held a t-shirt in his hand, the soft fabric looking a little worn, the familiar scent of him still lingering on it.Â
âHere,â he said, offering it to her with a warm smile. âFigured you might want something to wear.â
Gabby glanced up at him, still feeling the warmth from their shared moment. She took the shirt from him, fingers brushing against his as she did. âThanks,â she murmured softly, feeling a little shy now that the raw intensity of the moment had passed.
She slid off the bed and moved toward the bathroom, using the restroom and freshening up before returning to him. When she came back, she saw Glen had pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and was now laying on the bed.
Gabby put on her underwear and then slipped into the oversized shirt Glen had given her, the cotton fabric falling just past her thighs.
She crawled back into bed, settling next to him, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath her. Glen shifted, making space for her, then wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. His touch was light, almost protective as if wanting to ensure she felt safe and cherished.
Gabby snuggled into his chest, the warmth of his body lulling her into a sense of peace. She couldnât remember the last time sheâd felt this comfortable with someone. The vulnerability theyâd shared earlier still lingered between them, but now it was wrapped in the softness of intimacy, trust, and care.
âYou okay?â Glen asked quietly, his voice soft and steady as his fingers gently traced circles on her back.
Gabby looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a smile that reached her eyes. âYeah,â she said, her voice low but filled with contentment. âIâm really good, Glen. Thanks for⊠everything.â
He smiled down at her, his eyes soft with affection. âAnytime,â he murmured, kissing her forehead gently.
They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound between them the gentle rhythm of their breathing, the quiet peace that came from being close to someone who truly cared. Gabby closed her eyes, letting the weight of the moment wash over her, feeling safe, seen, and, for the first time in a long time, completely at ease.
Glen didnât say anything more, but his hand gently stroked her hair, a tender gesture that spoke louder than any words could. And as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she couldnât help but think that thisâthis was exactly what she needed, what she had been longing for without even knowing it.
#Glen Powell#Glen Powell Fic#Glen Powell Fanfic#Glen Powell Fanfiction#Glen Powell Series#Glen Powell x OC#Glen Powell x Original Character
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Fighting with his beloved nurse...
feat. Giyuu Tomioka
Giyuu is not used to people that like him and that are concerned for him. He does not even understand why you were angry when he got hurt a little too bad for your taste. Afraid he would need to split apart from his favourite nurse. So you two ended up arguing
Hello world I am still sick but I wrote a little Giyuu stuff here. Idk why I feel like he always would think he is not good enough, poor boy so we need to show him that he is precious âš anyways I still suck in proof reading but have fun. That's just the first time I wrote something for Demon Slayer đ
Wordcount: 2,0 k
Warnings: fluff, fighting, a little suggestive in the end
The situation was kinda frustrating. He just came back from a mission a few days ago.
You were a nurse around from the butterfly estate. Stunning, gorgeous, breathtaking...all these words that popped in Giyuus head when you appeared in his sight. But not only that, you were indeed a kind soul. Always gifting him with the sweetest smiles of all when he returned.
Slowly over the years you build a connection with him. He was a cold man, not really social, so it was not that easy. But you were kind from the bottom of your heart. Not even could harm a fly.
Patients you card for all said the same, you were an angel walking on earth.
But even angels can be mad, right?
You and Giyuu, never really named what this was between you two.
All you knew was that when he came back from a mission, and you saw him, you came walking toward him in a quick pace. Hugging him so tight to make sure he was really there. And Giyuu? He always breathed in your scent. One hand on your face needing to look in the depth of your orbs to make sure, you were there and wouldn't leave, like everyone else.
He grew attached, more than that he loved you. He cared deeply, and yet saying it out loud felt so dangerous.
That poor boy was afraid you would slip away when he wasn't careful enough. Although you would never fade, for what reason?
He may be quiet, but he listened to you, he loved when you were yapping around. Or even the deep talk you two had sometimes in the middle of the night, when you slipped into his room after your late night shift was done. Â
But right now? Oh, you were mad. And why? He did his job, as a Hashira eliminated a demon.
But when he had been coming back it was so close that he could've died, you were freaking out...because you were afraid. "Don't act like that would've been nothing. Look at you." you scolded him, as he stood in front of you. You looked everywhere except his eyes.
"I did my job, you are fully aware that I am a demon slayer, what is the trouble. That's not the first time I come back and not be unharmed." he asked, his voice sounded nonchalant.
He wasn't sure how to respond to your subtle anger, especially not when he was wounded.
Probably he didn't even understand the fact that you liked him so much, that you were actually worried. You sighted trying to make the bandage sit a little better.
"Are you mad?" he asked you then, he sat there shirtless as you personally took care of his wounds. Just a little more to the left and his wound would have been critical. You didn't just see Giyyu as a demon slayer or Hashira anymore. You were afraid that someday, he wouldn't come back. Furthermore, you never doubted his talent, but you were worried.
"Do I look happy?" you asked him back, shortly narrowing your eyes. Now he sighted, he thought he did something wrong. Disappointing? Fighting not hard enough? Being not good enough because he was harmed?
These were his thoughts, although it was quite the opposite.
"You don't." he replied curtly, with a heavy voice, his head was making scenarios.
"Right I am not, when that demon would have hit you just a little more left....you would have been dangerously wounded." you meant while you reached around his torso for the bandage.Â
 "I endured worse things. I don't understand why you are making a fuss." probably this was not the answer you wanted to hear. Or that anyone want to hear. You loved him, cared so deep for him. It was not a fuss, at least not for you. You saw a lot of demon slayers die in your job, and you didn't want to have him on the list. You were done with the bandage and looked at him, sad eyes coupled with angry ones.
"A fuss? Is that what you think I do when you get back?" You asked him, your voice carried a hint of annoyance. Both of you kinda talking, not straight to the topic. You were worried, and he thought he was not good enough.
"(Y/N)...you patch me up. You come looking for me, I don't mean that you don't do your duty as nurse I..." Giyuu was lost for words. Well, what happened when he came back?
Yeah, it was you, you took your sweet time patching him up carefully. Listened to his dangerous adventure and after that? Showering him with praise and kisses, just to see how badly wounded he is and when it was not, that exhausting, you gifted him with passionate nights.
He grew accustomed to this routine, always wanting to be good for you. Not a lot of people liked him or took even interest in him. Not at all. He was just so afraid he would lose you, before he had the chance to acknowledge his feelings.
"We both know I do more than that...it's not what I meant." you said, and you were done patching him up at least as good as it could get now, because after this he stood up, ignored the pain in his ribs just to take his haori and put it on.
Giyuus face had a slight scowl in his brows, his black long ponytail just slightly disheveled from the journey back and the exhaustion. The bandage around his lower torso, his strong chest showing off even when the haori was already over his shoulders. He made his way to the door.
"I know that we...we are having a thing. That you do more than every other nurse in this estate would do. I just don't understand what is different now then before...." maybe he even mumbled that to himself. With a sigh he opened the door ready to go outside, he was not good dealing with arguments. Not that he couldn't say anything, but with you, it was different. He didn't want to say the wrong thing. He couldn't even bear the face you made. This was when it hit you, he was not going because he was angry too, he was going because he was afraid he fucked up and didn't even know why. Your steps then went fast over to him, and you grabbed the door with your hand before you stopped him from leaving. Gently closing it. "What do you think will happen when we fight, Tomioka?" you asked him, clearly a whole different topic than before. You looked a little strict but your features softer now. Â
 Should he be honest? That he was simply afraid he did something truly wrong and lost you? Well, this was at least what he was thinking. Losing that pretty nurse, that made him feel...loved.
"We split, isn't it like that? Not that it would be a surprise." he spoke then, looking everywhere, but not in your face.
"Look at me, when you talk to me. I taught you manners." you meant, it was sounding a little sharp but with that edge...you were softer now. You saw what his problem had been, he didn't got the fact that you were concerned for him, afraid he could die. You liked him too...maybe even more than like. Then Giyuu looked up, poor boy, he was so distance and cold until he met you. He loved your warmth, the way you made him feel prickly in his chest. The way you smiled, the way you brushed strands of his raven hair out of his face. The way your waist felt in his hands, when he pulled you close. The way you smelled when he nuzzled his face in your neck.
"Giyuu..." you started and used his first name, your sweet voice filled with a little regret that you didn't see it that he was insecure, afraid to even.
"Just because I am mad don't mean we split... I am sorry when I made you feel unwanted. It was not-" before you could even finish, he stepped closer, his one hand reaching out cupping your cheek. It was even enough for him to hear that you don't split. You were his only person he wanted to have close now, where he allowed himself to be close.
"You didn't make me feel unwanted. It was just...the way you scolded me, making me...fear I did something that upset you so much you would change your mind about me." he said to you, his voice was now lower. "And I don't want to upset you. I just can't change the fact that fighting demons is my job, and apparently I am quite good at it." he added.
You laid your hand over his. It was a tender gesture. Nearly like all the tension flew away suddenly. Â
 "I was just afraid... I don't want to lose you. You know? I see demon slayers die every day... I like you, you know. You don't complain about my yapping, the way you hold me close. I like all these things, and I was just concerned. Sorry that it overwhelm me and that I was being too hard to you." alone the fact that you apologized because you maybe reacted a little over in such a moment. The fact you spoke out you didn't want to lose him, that you liked him. Giyuu was anything than good at expressing his feelings. He pulled you just a little closer to give you such a loving kiss on your forehead. Before his forehead rested against yours. He took a deep breath.
"Actually (Y/N), I like you more than just...like. That is why I fear you wouldn't keep me around when I wasn't good enough." it was a little plain, not the passionate confessing others dreamed off. But it was his confession. The way he told you he loved you.
"You are a Hashira, you are one of the best, the best. My best." you answered him before you then reached out and placed a kiss on his lips. It was sweet at first, all the feeling you two had poured into this kiss. All at once. Then your hands slid up his bare chest. You felt his muscles tensing slightly, the way he shivered when your cold fingertips went over his skin. Before you laid your hands around the back of his neck.
"So we are going back to the usual routine when you patch me up?" he then asked, with flushed cheeks his one hand had grabbed gently your waist pulling you closer. He was still injured, and in pain, at least with certain movements. He just spoke in between the kiss, loving the way your lips felt against his.
"Depends on how much are you hurt?" you asked in between before gently guiding him back to the bed for patients. Where he sat down. Looking up at you with such ocean eyes. It was always so cute when he blushed because he was excited. "Not that much...you could be on top." He suggested with a tone kinda desperate for you. He would lie when he said he wouldn't love the fact that after you patched him up that you gave him such a delightful treatment. You guided him to lay down and straddled his lap, your cute nurse skirt rising up a little, and his hands went to the new exposed creamy skin he found. Rough hands caressing you. You then tilted your head just a little. Maybe one round he could take before he really should rest. "Oh, is that so? Not so much? Well while I will try to make you feel better, you can just continue to tell me how much you like me, that's a deal right?" Your voice was sweet when you said that, the whole argument forgotten, but of course not the fact that he admitted he liked you more than just a bit. And you would use this now to your advantage and gifting him with his beloved patching up routine... Â
#fanfiction#fanfic#anime#new blog#anime and manga#anime x reader#anime fluff#anime imagines#demon slayer#demon slayer x reader#kimetsu no yaiba#giyuu tomioka#kny x reader#kny giyuu#giyuu x reader#giyu tomioka x reader#giyuu tomioka x reader#kny giyu x reader#demon slayer fluff#demon slayer giyuu#giyuu fluff#kimetsu no yaiba x you#giyuu x you#demon slayer x you
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Idk if it's me thriving on Night Shift Life or just drinking nothing but Current Hyperfixation Juice
But I added 6.4k words to my WIP tonight and god I need to think of a title for this damned thing so I can start posting it because damn!
I'm 8 chapters in, with a ton more written ahead that hasn't been dropped into a chapter. And my maybe halfway done word count is about 64k. Which is an INSANE amount for me to have written on one thing in just like 6 weeks...
#i haven't written like this in FOREVER and it feels so great!#I'm just trying to not think about all of other WIPs that have been abandoned#for this one project that is maming me mildly unwell lmao#but like. it's a good kind of unwell#i wasn't even trying to marsthon write tonight. i took many breaks and got very distracted and even made brownies for d&d later#and yet I still wrote That Much in one night#damn girl. damn#i need to go take a nap and get some sleep before d&d but i want to keep writing đ
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7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos
#normal Saturday morning behavior#redacted spoilers#redacted audio#redacted sam#Seven.txt#rp audio stuff#well. crying over one singular blorbo in particular. Sam's still got me in an emotional chokehold#and i'm too sad to even make a stupid little joke abt how i wouldn't mind if it was a physical one too. ayeee *insert sad eyebrow wiggle*#no but seriously. i have so many feelings abt him and i can't even say it all bc some of it isn't public info yet#eh fuck it i'll just draft this until the audio goes public and then i'll post it once it's no longer Exclusive Info#bc i dont wanna leak Early Access stuff but i have to get this out of my system rn and the new audio is part of what sparked these thoughts#which is funny bc i. literally haven't even listened to it yet. i'm not Ready đ#where's that tiktok screenshot that's like. 'hyperfixation so bad that i can't even engage with the source material' bc that's me rn#like bro Sam only won the poll like. 2 or 3 days ago and Eric is Already dropping a new Sam audio?? hello? Mr. Redacted i wasn't prepared#anyways i was spoiling myself by perusing the comments last night trying to get a feel for if it's gonna be more angst or comfort#and i saw a comment that absolutely shattered me. and it reignited all my sad thoughts about Sam's eventual. uh. y'know. death.#apparently they plant a tree together or smthn in the new audio (which already has me & my beloved 10y/o orange tree feeling some kinda way#but to the individual in the comments who brought to all our minds the image of Sam sitting beneath that tree in 30 or so years time#when he's decided that he's ready to die and sits out there waiting for the sun to rise..................... đ„Č#i'm gonna need u to compensate me for all of that unexpected emotional damage /j /nm#i'm Still not over what he told Darlin' while they had their talk about the future up on his roof together. that audio killed me#then yesterday i was listening to my Sam & Darlin' playlist while cleaning. and Malibu Nights by LANY came on. which i always skip bc Sad#but i let it play and just started crying. standing in the middle of the room all disheveled and holding a broom. as one does.#iirc that song is one that Eric himself said is applicable to Sam which is why/how i found it and put it on the playlist. and god. g o d#hm. i hope that wasn't Patreon exclusive info. i can't remember if it was a public post where he said that or not. hope it's okay to share#but if we can take that song as like. unofficial canon for Sam then that also confirms my idea that he used to drink to cope#which makes the opening lines of Fix What You Didn't Break by Nate Smith even more applicable. i should go edit that post actually#anyways i'm just. feeling a lot. and i love Sam very much and i don't want him to die. but i want him to do what he wants at the same time#Alexis took so fucking much from him. he deserves to live - and end - his life on his own terms. ... i think i need to go write something#*casually fishes this post out of the drafts 3 and a half days later* hi so uh. i wrote a 4k oneshot :) and will hopefully post it tomorrow
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CHAPTER SELECT    †???    †???    †is it not enough i'm happy?Â
i made the team! i get to play! i get to be their setter!
   how brightly she shined as she told her parents of her success, of how she worked hard for months to obtain that starting position, of the excitement she finally felt again. they were happy -- why wouldnât they be? for years, makiko hadnât touched an extracurricular, nor had she dedicated herself to anything worthwhile. they were relieved to see her smile, to hear her talk so animatedly about something.
   but makiko had been naĂŻve. they always want more from her.Â
   oh, wonât it be nice if youâre captain next year? her mother mentions it more than once, likes to talk about how yuuta was the basketball captain his senior year, and makiko tries to smile and move on. she doesnât care if she becomes captain or not, doesnât believe itâs something to entertain when sheâs still building trust with her new teammates. she just wants her team to do well, to enjoy themselves and feel good about what theyâre doing. what does it matter if sheâs the one leading in the end?
   her father thinks her coach is too easy on her and her teammates, mistakes allowing the girlsâ room to learn and trust each other as a lack of initiative. never mind theyâve won every game up until now -- that coach rubs him the wrong way, and maybe heâll have a talk with her. makiko knows this comes from a place of love, that he only wants the best for her, but she canât help the scowl and harsh protest that leaves her mouth. he scolds her for talking to him that way and tells her she wonât succeed if she doesnât have someone to push her.
   makiko shuts up, apologizes, and clenches her fists so tightly that her palms sting.Â
they push their own sense of ambition onto her, yet they donât believe she can do this on her own? that she canât be like her siblings like theyâve always wanted her to be unless someone holds her hand? what a fucking joke.
   her mother brings up becoming captain again one night, and makiko just cannot take it anymore.
   â is it not enough iâm having fun? â
   quiet but sharp, makikoâs words halt the conversation at the dinner table. she feels yukiâs stunned gaze, but she doesnât look away from her plate. mrs. furukawa asks, â what? â
   " is it not enough iâm having fun? is it not enough iâm happy? â
   â makiko--- âÂ
   â no, tell me! is it more important that iâm successful, or more important that iâm happy? â
   it comes pouring out, every ounce of resentment makiko has ever felt for being compared to her siblings, for being taught that unless she was the best, she wasnât good enough. itâs reflected in her eyes as she glowers at her mother, shoulders tense and one hand clutching her chopsticks with a death grip.
   â where is this coming from? â her father has the nerve to look confused, and makiko scoffs.
   â how many times have you compared me to yuki and yuuta now? a hundred times, a thousand? it isnât a crime to lack ambition, dad! â
   " we just want you to be successful, makiko, â her mother interjects, sounding stern despite her glassy eyes. â your siblings never needed us to push them much, but you... â
   â i donât need you to push me. you pushing me has only ever made me feel inadequate, you know that? you put my siblings on this pedestal and expected me to match that -- of course i stopped trying! â
   chest heaving, heart racing, head spinning --- when did she stand? sheâs trembling, she realizes, and she canât seem to get her breathing under control. yuki reaches out to her, but makiko recoils ( donât touch me or iâll break ) . it seems her parents are stunned into silence, though makiko doesnât take the time to look at them. she doesnât see the guilt as it sinks in what theyâve done to her. no, she has an overwhelming need to get away, far away, and rushes from the dining room and out the front door. she canât be sure who it is screaming after her. her mind canât focus on anything else but being anywhere but here.
   sheâs done. this is the last time she runs away from a problem. in a few hours, makiko will come home, sit down, and talk to her parents. but she needs this right now, a small reprieve after finally finding her voice and exhausting it.
   as makiko collapses against a tree ( of course she finds herself at the community center, where it all began ) , she makes herself a promise: she wonât ever be that timid, shell of a girl again.
#i remember when i first wrote this and how much my heart swelled while getting the scene in my head down#and it still makes me wanna yell and weep and give makiko the biggest hug :' ))))))))#i know i haven't spoken a whole lot about her yet on this blog bc i've focused on kny and jjk#but her development genuinely makes me so happy#and this is skipping to the end for y'all but MAN i wrote so much of it myself#the lack of confidence the fear that she won't be good enough or that her joy will be stolen the minute her parents start pushing#makiko comes such a long way from the start of her first year to the start of her second year and i :' ))) could cry all night about it!!#she's one of my favorite oc's i'll ever write for that very reason#also just thinking about the effect of connections upon her development??? like she'd never make it where she's meant to be#without the nekoma team#without people like kuroo who see that look in her eyes and push and pry just enough to get her to take the first step#onto the court and off of the sidelines#I JUST CARE HER AND HER STORY VERY MUCH Y'ALL OKAY ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;#so i'm posting this instead of queuing it and then going back to working on real drafts uvu#if you read this and even my long frikkin tags you're an angel and i love you to pieces <3#headcanons | makiko
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55k words into this writing exercise that was only intended to be at most 2k words........
#i went into this wanting to write one specific conversation between yixing and sonam#and i STILL have yet to do that#but what i have done is flesh out her character so much. and also documented so much of their life together lol#i must say i love to write mundane stuff like conversations while cooking and describing menial tasks#i also happened to indulge myself in some what if scenarios and wrote things that never even happened#the what if scenario basically being:#what if yixing wasnt a piece of shit who literally walked out on a ten year relationship in the middle of the night and never came back?#how different would things be lol#also it is officially his birthday and im gonna be so insufferable about my special made up guy. just you wait#oc talk
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ignore this i just wanna ramble in the tags for a sec iâll probably delete it in a bit đ€Ș
#did an escape room with the fam on my sisterâs birthday two days ago and my brother made me feel stupid the entire time#wouldnât listen to me wouldnât share or let me help and then act like i wasnât helping (??? let me then)#and because heâs Loud my whole family was following his lead and ignoring me#but in the end i was the reason we won bc i was the only one who immediately understood the word riddles AND the one who wrote down#all the numbers he said we wouldnât need. i was the only one who could connect the past information with the current problem#the only one who listened fully to the cd and decided to write down the locations without it being relevant yet#the only one who thought the tiny details might be relevant and the only one who automatically fixed his mistakes bc i noticed a pattern#and in the end still got no credit for anything (except from my mom) even tho if they had listened to me from the beginning they wouldâve#been less stressed and finished sooner#then at the restaurant he didnât listen to me again and we ordered too much even tho i told him we wouldnât need it#THEN after dinner my grandma started texting me all frustrated telling me i need to keep my aunt updated on whatâs happening thru the day#so she doesnât feel left out. bc sheâs having a rough time lately. bc itâs my job to make everyone feel better#FIRST of all this woman ignored me for years when her ex husband decided i wasnât worth it#and now suddenly itâs my job to keep u informed on my every move so u donât feel left out?? text me urself. ask what iâm doing.#ask HOW iâm doing??? do u even care beyond a âwhat colour is your sturdiness today namasteâ#every time my aunt complains about the tiniest thing and starts crying about it it my grandma blames everyone else#no one even knows or cares if iâm having a rough time#she came to âhelpâ when my mom was sick and i did everything for her instead. and then she threw a fit when i wouldnât eat her salad#when i was too exhausted from staying up all night with my mother to go on a run with her the next day#my mom finally got mad at her for implying iâm lazy all the time and told her iâm âneurodiverseâ and do things my own way and she didnât#even know what that meant so my mom was like âon the spectrum â and my aunt just got mad that she had never told her#would it have made a difference at all? would u have expected different from me?#meanwhile iâve done so much for my cousin⊠including taking care of luca the entire time she stayed with us. i had him all the time#i didnât mind. i love that kid more than anything. but everyone expects everything from me like itâs just a given#i talked her through every problem every breakdown walked on eggshells to keep her happy and then what does she do when she leaves?#ignores me. doesnât come back when she said she would. complains that i donât include her in things#bc sometimes i have quiet conversations with my sister so i donât bother everyone#and then gg wants to know why i wonât come see her? why i wonât drop everything to fly there? my aunt wants to know why i donât call?#because despite loving me u have made me feel inadequate my whole life. some of u more than others#and iâm tired. and itâs time for me to Be me For me without justifying it to everyone else.
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search for clues || w.jh
member | stoner shaggy!jun x velma!gn reader + high sex genre | smut, humor word count | ~1,700 warnings | marijuana use (smoking with a pipe), shotgunning, soft dom!jun, cockwarming (barely), oral (m receiving), implied oral (reader receiving), jun has a cat pipe this is canon, blond jun notes | lowercase intended, implied established relationship, both jun and reader have smoked before, scooby doo related shenanigans. reader is completely gender neutral, no mentions of anatomy, but they wear a skirt & wig. enjoy! - đ disclaimer | this story is a work of fiction. both jun and reader are portrayed as consenting adults above the age of 21. always make sure your partner is someone you trust and have talked with beforehand while sober. i wrote this based off my own personal experiences with marijuana, so keep in mind not everyone will experience the same feelings. remember to practice safe, consensual sex as well as safe recreational weed use!
minors dni - you will be blocked
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âdo you think scooby doo ever smoked with shaggy?â
you shove jun, giggling. âheâs a dog, dumbass!â
âwho says dogs canât smoke?â
"uh, everybody?"
youâd been proud of the way your matching costume had turned out. you spent weeks looking through malls and thrift shops for the perfect orange skirt and sweater, and the brown wig youâd ordered online had been thoroughly trimmed and combed out to look like velma.
but when youâd gotten to the party, the first thing wonwoo had done was laugh, pointing out the irony in junâs costume. âeverybody knows shaggyâs a stoner,â he grinned.
so when youâd left the party and taken an uber back to junâs place, heâd immediately pulled out his stash so you could âget high with scooby dooâ, as if it were some lifelong dream of yours. but after a couple hits when you found yourself sitting on junâs couch, slowly grinding against him and sneaking bites of halloween candy in between drags from his pipe, you decided this hadnât been such a bad idea after all. especially after he playfully suggested cockwarming, too.
your wig and chunky glasses frames lay long abandoned on the floor as you slowly start to sink down onto his cock. he clutches his favorite pipe in one hand, the black one shaped like a cat, and you whimper at the pressure, sighing when he finally bottoms out inside you.
he gives you a minute to adjust, and you take the glass pipe from his hands for another hit, blinking slowly as you wrap your lips around the end. you inhale, sweet smoke filling your lungs as you hold the breath in before pushing it out.
âwhatâs that thing she says? jeepers?â jun asks, reaching for a twizzler from the bag on the side table. his cock pulses inside you as he adjusts his lap and you whine, every sense somehow both heightened and diminished at the same time.
âno, itâs⊠jinkies,â you say after a long pause.
time always moves slower when you smoke, the world crawling by before your eyes. everything else seems to fade until you forget if youâve actually said the words out loud or just in your head.
âwhatââ he shifts on the couch, ââwhat do i say?â
âmmm, i dunno,â you sigh, your head filling with a warm fuzz that makes you forget what youâre talking about. junâs living room is so nice, you notice. youâre acutely aware of the texture of the couch beneath your shin as you straddle junâs lap, your skirt bunching up around your thighs.
itâs pitch black outside, the quiet hours of the night a stark contrast from the party you came back from. you feel your eyes start to glaze over as you stare off into the distance outside the window, focusing on the neighborâs halloween decorations outside. the glow of the orange lights is so mesmerizing, andâ
âzoinks!â
you drag your gaze back over to him. âhuh?â
âshaggy says âzoinksâ and velma says âjinkiesâ,â jun grins, proud of himself for remembering.
you think for a minute. "which one says, 'let's search for clues'?"
"the hot one," he answers, his faraway gaze fixated on your chest.
you look down at where heâs staring, then take the rest of his twizzler and put it in your mouth instead. "the blond guy?" you ask, chewing.
your mouth feels fuzzy as you savor the sweet taste, carefully focusing on the sensation so you don't accidentally bite your tongue.
"hey. i'm a blond guy," jun says after a while, as if the realization just hit him.
his words pull you out of your haze, lost in thought. "is that a clue? are you gonnaâ solve the mystery now?" you giggle at your joke, unintentionally clenching around him.Â
he groans, his hands falling to your waist as he starts to absently rock you back and forth against his hips.
you lean forward and grab onto his shoulders, the pipe still in your hand. âyouâre not supposed to move, juniee,â you giggle, pretending to pout.
âbut i want to,â he whines and closes his eyes, but his hips still.
âmmmâŠâ you trail off. your hands find themselves tugging on the hem of his shirt, pulling it slowly over his head. your fingers trace his skin, observing the texture, the feel of his body like youâve never noticed before. the tiny scar on his shoulder, the way his nipples pebble when you run your thumb over them lightly, each soft hair on his strong arms.
you allow yourself to get lost watching his muscles flex as his hands gently take the pipe from you. he flicks his lighter over the bowl to reignite it, taking a long, slow hit from the smooth glass. you feel his hands on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer into a kiss, roughly pressing his lips against yours. he parts his lips and you breathe in, inhaling the sweet smoke from his mouth, feeling a rush in the back of your throat as you hold it in before tilting your head away to exhale.
âfeel so good,â you sigh, the cloudy feeling in your mind amplifying as the high starts to settle in. you start to grind on his lap. âwant you to fuck me now.â
jun leans his head back against the couch, letting out a low moan. he arches his back, lifting his hips up off the couch to thrust into you. if you were sober, the rhythm wouldâve been painfully slow, but youâre so relaxed that it feels just right.
your mind is hazy as he pushes up into you, experiencing every tiny movement a thousand times amplified. you can feel every vein of his thick cock dragging against your walls, and slowly you start to move your hips up and down to match his rhythm.
suddenly you feel cool glass on your skin, and you realize heâs still holding the pipe. you plant your hands on his chest and he mewls, slowing his hips for a second. you reach down to take the pipe from him and, with much effort, set it on the table behind you, making sure it doesn't spill.
your mind starts to drift, and suddenly something else seems more appealing.
you push down on his slim waist, forcing him to stop before you lift yourself off of his lap with shaky legs, the clouds in your head not doing you any favors helping your coordination.
âdonât stop, baby, please, âs so good,â he rasps, canting his hips up into the air.
âi wanna suck you off,â you say, enunciating every word carefully.Â
his lips part in a lazy smile, clearly satisfied at your suggestion.
your legs feel like lead as you hit the floor, but his arms are out to help you down. you feel his glazed eyes watching you as you position yourself at his feet, gently tugging his corduroy pants farther down his legs.
"your dick is so pretty," you sigh absently, resting your hands on his thighs.
you stare at his cock, admiring the pretty veins and the pretty head flushed red and the pretty way it leans against his stomach, waiting for you. your mouth waters at the sight, and you wrap your lips around him, pushing him down your throat eagerly.
"mmph, teeth," he winces, his hand sliding through your hair to pull your head up a little.
"aoury," you mumble around his cock, but you make a conscious effort to keep your teeth from scraping him.
you start to move again, wrapping your free hand around the base of his cock where your mouth can't reach. his grip on your hair tightens and loosens, gently encouraging you.
he lets out a moan, high and breathy, when your hand moves to his balls, tracing the rough skin before cupping them in your hand. his hips buck up into your mouth, your nose pressing against his abdomen.
you can feel him twitching in your throat, and you're acutely aware of the drool collecting at the corners your mouth, saliva pooling around his cock.
"so good, mmhâ 'm gonna cum," he groans, his head falling back against the couch.
jun always looks so pretty when he cums, you think, dragging your eyes up to his face to watch him twist in pleasure. his mouth hangs open, and his chest heaves up and down with each deep breath he takes.
you tug your hand up and down along his cock as he whines, and his breath hitches when he finally cums, his release pouring into your mouth with a high-pitched sob. you hold your mouth on him, swirling your tongue around his length until overstimulation starts to set in and he tugs you off of him, panting.
when he finally catches his breath, he helps you stand up before flipping you onto your back on the couch. you shiver as he crouches down to push his face between your legs.
âwhat do you think, baby?â he says, staring up at you with a mischievous grin. âshould i look for more clues?â
taglist | @shuatm @yeosayang @seungminluv3
© lavenderhui 2022. do not repost or translate.
#[đïž] â feedback#hi i'm op of this fic !! (this is my new blog) and WOW this is maybe the best review ive ever gotten#this was one of the first smut fics i ever wrote and tbh im still not very proud of it so it really means so much that u enjoyed it đ#i'm so happy ppl send my fics to their friends too like wow that's really an honor đđđ#as a 420 girlie + a huihui ... stoner!jun is a v special concept to me and i definitely have more ideas about it that i havent written yet#tysm again for such a wonderful long review im so happy you liked it!! seriously i cannot explain how much this made my night#i was actually insane when i came up w this concept last year but jun is sooo shaggy to me like theyre both so silly its a perfect match imo#the cat pipe may be me projecting bc i have this super cute one saved on etsy that ive been wanting for years-#-but i also do think stoner!jun would have all his supplies cat themed bc thats just who he is
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WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott
summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn't realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.
word count; 3007
notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it's you, please let me know!!
If there was one thing about Theodore Nott that couldn't be denied, it was that he loved with everything he had.Â
He loved his friends; he was loyal to a fault and heâd never let them down. He loved his family, he wrote over fifteen letters a week to all his aunties and cousins, and still held onto his motherâs recipe book, even to this day.Â
And he loved, adored, his girlfriend with everything that he had. Heâd do anything for her, crawl across hot coals if she asked, give up his magic and his money and his legacy, just to make her happy. Sheâd never asked as such of him, still blushed when he pulled out his wallet when they shopped and smiled brighter than the sun when he gave her a handmade card or something heâd cooked. So, to his eyes, it didnât seem all that much when he decided to give up smoking for her.Â
She hadn't asked him to, never even pulled a face when he smoked. But Theo was damn sick of trying to blow the smoke away from her when she joined him at the astronomy tower, cuddled up to his chest, because he didnât want that poison near her. He hated watching her shiver on the colder nights, he hated waking her in the middle of the night when he got up to satiate that itch, and he hated thinking of a future where he left her too soon, running short on time, because he ruined himself.
He chucked his last box into the fireplace one impulsive morning, and thought he might go cold turkey. Heâd been so moody by lunchtime that heâd almost bitten Enzoâs head off over the way he pronounced âtomatoâ. That afternoon, heâd ditched his classes and trudged through the snow to the floo connection at the Hogâs Head, and picked up enough nicotine patches from a muggle supply store to knock out a fully grown Hippogriff.
Heâd torn the packaging off of one in the grimy restroom at the back of the store and slapped it onto his bicep, and almost collapsed from the relief it gave him. It wasnât nearly as effective as picking up a packet from the newsagentâs stand heâd passed wouldâve been, but as soon as his fingers had twitched to pick up a box, your face had flashed through his mind. Your face, smiling at him, your face that morning telling him how proud you were of him when heâd shared his goals in hopes of support, and it was enough to deter him from the purchase.
You were his strength, once again, as youâd always been.Â
And truly, you were so proud of Theo. Changing his patches for him every evening, in time with that first one. Reading up on the muggle solutions, and making sure you were fully versed on how to help him. Keeping him busy seemed to help, when he got bored, his eyes started flicking towards the door, and the slight irritability heâd been able to keep a lid on pretty well would begin to flare up. For the most part, heâd been staying at your dorm, in an active attempt to keep away from Mattheo, who wasnât quite ready to give up his comfortable vice just yet.Â
Unfortunately, as the days went on, while Theo seemed to be handling it just fine, you were struggling. The irritability grew, even Dracoâs breathing was making you want to snap pencils in half in the library, or throw Enzo off the astronomy tower if he scraped his fork on his plate one more time. You were ravenous, and nauseous, all at the same time. You wanted to eat everything but could hardly hold it down. You were dizzy, and fatigued, and your grades were going to start slipping if this continued, because it had been almost a week since youâd been able to concentrate on any thought longer than a minute, never mind a whole class.Â
And now, you were lying in bed, rubbing at your eyes angrily but unable to sleep as you stared at the ceiling. Theo, for once, was sleeping soundly beside you. Since giving up smoking, his sleep patterns had been getting better, while yours were getting worse by the night. Almost a week, and youâd barely gotten nine hours of sleep put together.Â
When you shuffled again, pressing yourself a little closer to Theo as you rolled onto your side, he began to surface. The arm over your midriff tightened, pulling you in until your hips were bracketed against his, and he chuckled sleepily into your neck. Burying himself in, he pressed a kiss there, and another, and another. The rough pounding of your heart settled as you clasped Theoâs hand in your own, holding them to your chest as he littered your shoulder with kisses.Â
At your sigh, he rolled you over, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning. Shaking his hand free from your own, he stroked the back of a finger along your cheek, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As his hand settled on the side of your neck instead, yours slipped up to cup his jaw, and you melted into the tender love he offered you in the darkest hours.Â
âWhatâs wrong, tesoro? Why are you awake?â
âWhy are you awake?â you rebuffed, fingers lifting to comb through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes as he blinked himself a little more awake.
He shrugged, âThis is about the time Iâd normally go for a smoke.â He murmured, and your eyes flickered to the clock.Â
You knew well enough the schedule Theo used to keep while smoking. Your timetable had slowly synched to it over the time youâd been dating. Heâd wake up during the night, at some point around two, and disappear for a smoke. Heâd take twenty minutes, or thirty if he bumped into Mattheo, and then heâd come back to bed.Â
You didnât mind the disturbance. Not when heâd come back slightly chilled from the night air and snuggle in close to you, wrapping himself around you.
âActually, this is the time youâd normally come back from having a smoke, and give me my midnight kisses.â
âIs that why my girl is so restless tonight? Because I owe her some kisses?â He teased, leaning down until your noses were bumping, and you could taste the mint on his breath. Normally, he tasted like smoke, not toothpaste, and the shock of his warm lips instead of cold ones made you hum.Â
The languid kisses melted the time away, his hand sliding up your shirt, sitting on your ribs and squeezing softly as he lowered himself down, covering your body with his own. Theo had always been your comfort, and your happy place. Being in his arms made you feel safe, and his kisses made you feel relaxed. As he licked his way into your mouth lazily, you anticipated the hazy blur of relaxation that usually followed when he kissed you.Â
But, like usual recently, it never came. Instead, when he finally pulled back, and pecked the tip of your nose, he found you frowning, instead of smiling up at him. âWhatâs wrong?â
âI donât know.â You huffed, frustrated at yourself, at your confusion and the growing irrational irritation. âItâs not the same.â
âWhatâs not the same, bella?â
âYour⊠your kisses.â Your words trailed to a whisper, knowing he wouldn't understand, and the hurt that flickered across his face made your heartbreak.Â
âTheyâre not?â
âNo. I donât know why.â His lips curled further at the sides, and the look on his face made you want to cry. It made you hate yourself, aggressively, and if you could tear out your own heart and give it to him just to see him smile again, you would. Just another thing youâd been suffering with lately, an overwhelm of your emotions, worse than any mood swing you got when you were on your period. âItâs not you, Teddy, itâs me. Youâre still my happy place, youâve done nothing wrong. Itâs me. Iâm the problem.â
âYouâre not a problem, bella. But we should figure it out. I donât want to⊠kiss you wrong, and see that look on your face. Whatâs different, tell me whatâs changed?â His sweet words made tears prickle at your eyes, and you sniffed sadly as you looked at him.Â
âI love you so much, Theo.â
âI know, tesoro. I love you too.â His thumb smoothed over your cheek, âTell me.â
âI donât know!â Your snap made his eyes widen. âYouâre just⊠different. You donât kiss the same way, you used to get all needy when you came back from a smoke, but you donât anymore, and you taste different! You taste like mint right now, and it just doesnât make me feel the same way afterwards.â
Your words were jumbled and hurried, rushed out as you smoked them and his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher what you meant. Second ticked by into silent minutes as Theoâs wonderful mind ticked and whirred, thinking the problem through, and playing with the information. Then, before you could say anything else, something clicked. You could see it in his eyes, when the gears stopped turning and the thoughts stopped flowing because heâd found the answer.Â
Pulling away from you, he sat up, kicking back the covers and letting in the cold air, before moving across the room and shuffling through his gym kit left in the corner. Pulling out a nicotine packet from the box inside, he shook it out, using his teeth to tear open the packet as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting yourself up, you propped yourself in the pillows as he peeled off the plastic backing, and tried to unstick his fingers from it, holding it by the corners.Â
âYouâve only had your patch on for nine hours, Teddy, itâs not time to change yet.â
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and settling in beside you on the bed, legs folded underneath himself. âThis isnât for me, bella. Take off your shirt.âÂ
Slipping your arm out of your shirt, you pushed it to the side, watching as Theo brushed cotton fibres off of your shoulder, before sealing the patch onto your skin. He made sure it was properly sealed down, flattening it to your skin, before feeding your arm back through the sleeve of your shirt. He smoothed the top back down your torso, pressing a cheeky kiss to your breast over your heart as he did, and sitting back on his legs to wait.Â
âGive it a second, then tell me how you feel.â He whispered, the moment feeling entirely too fragile as his hand took yours, fingers linked together. He kissed along your knuckles, his eyes locked on your face, waiting. And the moment you felt it hit, you knew he saw it too.Â
It was like a cool, soothing balm over a raw, aggravated wound. It felt like running cold water on a new burn or healing a painful graze with a quick Episky. âOh, MerlinâŠâ
âI know, tell me about it.â He mumbled, the smile on his face at victoriously solving the problem melting away as realisation set in. âCazzo, bella, Iâm so sorry. This is all my fault.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âYou have a nicotine addiction, and itâs my fault. All that time you spent with me at the tower, and the smoke on me, and kissing you as soon as I finished smoking. All your moodiness these last few daysââ
âHey!â
âItâs true, baby. It all makes sense.â He rubbed a hand over his face, and squeezed your hand tighter in the other. âI canât tell you how sorry I am. I quit because I didnât want this to happen to you, I didnât want my problems to poison you, but itâs too late.â
âKiss me.â
âWhat?â
âKiss me, Teddy.â You demand again, pulling him in, and his mouth collides with yours as he makes a subtle groan of surprise and pleasure.Â
His hand gripped the headboard behind you, the other skimming down your side. As you leaned back into the pillows, you took him with you, his body falling over your own, slotting between your thighs as our hearts thudded together where his chest pressed to yours. Your hands slid over his shoulders, skimming down his back, and he moaned again as your fingernails scraped across his lower back as you tugged at his shirt.Â
He sat up, letting you pull it off of him, before his arms were back, caging you in on either side as he fell back down against you. Pulling one of your legs up to sit on his hip, he dragged himself away from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw, to the pulse point on your neck and back up.Â
âMerde, bella. Whatâs gotten into you? Not that Iâm complaining.â
âYouâre perfect, Theo.â You smiled, leaning up to steal more kisses from his lips that he was happy to reciprocate, âYouâre perfect, your kisses are perfect. I knew it was me, not you. I was the problem.â
âA problem I gave you,â He groaned, his hips rolling against your own as you giggled breathlessly.Â
âYeah, whatever. Now weâre quitting together. Thatâs the promise we made, we do everything together, right?â
âDamn right, tesoro.â He growled, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw, as he began to make his way down your body. Your fingers were loose in his hair, settling back in the pillows, eyes slipping closed as he kissed along the insides of your thighs, teasingly. Finally, your body could relax, no longer tense and buzzing, but the foggy comfort of the night made your muscles ease into the bed, your body feeling heavy, and you sighed in bliss.Â
Theo mumbled something, and you let your legs fall a little further apart, but your grip on consciousness was falling further and further away as the nicotine coursed through your body, finally letting you ease into sleep youâd missed for days.
âBella,â Theo said, his voice sharper, and you stirred, working hard to force your eyes open, but theyâd only made it halfway. His hair was ruffled, eyes wide and lips swollen, but his smirk melted away from his face into a tender smile as he looked down at you.Â
âSorry, whatâd you say, baby?â The words slurred out of you, and he chuckled. His fingers unhooked from the sides of your shorts, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. âMâsorry, Iâm so sleepy all of a sudden.â
âSâokay, bella. Never apologise. Câmere, letâs just cuddle.â
Tucking your body into his, you shuffled your hips back into him, and he threw his leg over yours as he held you tight to his body. âYouâre hard.â
âItâll go down, donât worry.â He snickered, kissing the back of your head. âSâyour fault anyway.â
âSorryâŠâ You whispered, again, sleepily. âIâll make it up tâyou tâmorrow.â
âGo to sleep, amore.â
But youâd already drifted off.
It was just as you were closing your History of Magic book, that Theo announced his presence in the common room as he walked in alongside Mattheo. They were loud, and raucous, and thankfully, you were less inclined to bite their heads off for it today.Â
In fact, alongside Enzo, youâd been able to catch up on all of the History homework youâd been missing out on for the last week or so, getting you back on track for at least one of your subjects.Â
âPatch change time, bella!â Theo announced, making his way over to you as he untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons down the front. Tugging the tie out of the way, he crashed down ungracefully onto the couch beside you, Mattheo nudging Draco to move up so he could sit down too.Â
This had become a regular part of your routine now, and you pushed the edges of his half-unbuttoned shirt aside to reveal the patch sitting on the middle of his left pectoral. Picking at one corner, you peeled it away gently, careful not to tug on his skin as you did, and Theo watched on adoringly in silence as you took care of him. Unwrapping a new patch, you brushed off the spot, before sticking a new patch onto him and smoothing down the bandage.Â
He patted it himself, before doing a couple of the buttons on his shirt back up for modesty, as though he hadn't already given half of the common room a show, before he leaned in to peck your lips. His fingers fell to the buttons of your shirt, and he began to undo them slowly. âYour turn.â
He undid just enough to reveal your shoulder, without letting anyone else catch a glimpse of anything underneath, and as he leaned down to begin peeling away the old patch, you caught Enzoâs confused expression.Â
âWhy are you wearing a patch?â He asked, and Theo laughed to himself quietly as he changed your old one out.Â
âBecause loverboy here got me addicted too, through kisses and secondary smoke.â
The others burst out laughing, unfettered by your glaring as they made kissy sounds and crude remarks, while Theo buttoned your shirt back up. Your glare turned to him as you caught sight of his smile, and he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his lips. âWhat can I say, bella? Iâm just that good.â
âOh, shut it,â You smacked his chest, and he took your hand, tugging you forward to cuddle you into his chest as he kissed your temple.Â
âI happen to think itâs adorable that as a by-product of how you got addicted, that means you were addicted to me.â
âMhmm.â Your eyes rolled, and he squeezed you even tighter.Â
âYou had me addicted to you without any substances at all, bella. Just you.â
âAlright,â You scoff, âStop sweet-talking me.â
âNever.â
#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott/reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott/you#theo nott#slytherin boys#harry potter#theo nott x reader#theo nott/reader#theo nott x you#theo nott/you#lorenzo zurzolo#lorenzo zurzolo x you
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