#he’s reading his poems :D

[londoneh]

LATTERRRR

•🪶 📜 🪶•

[avirael]

The Frozen Lake

It was the third day since he had stopped feeling like dying.

About a week ago he had woken up from his far too lifelike fever dream and a few days later the last spikes of the fever itself had been gone too just like the hallucinations it had brought in his sleep.

He still had been sick though and welcomed Rael telling him to stay in bed until he was perfectly healthy again all too eagerly.

While he still sneezed every now and then, it was at least tolerable now, still annoying but he didn’t feel incredibly uncomfortable anymore.

That day, just like the last and also the ones before that, he had awoken late. Against Rael’s order to stay in bed he had found the courage to get up and take a look out of the window. It was a sunny day, which in Coerthas still meant that it was bitterly cold though. But the sun was shining brightly and already high in the sky too which meant it had to be almost midday. He had slept way too long again, way to many hours for a surprisingly dreamless sleep. Or maybe it was exactly the lack of dreams that allowed him to finally rest, after all in the past there rarely had been good ones…

For a moment he considered to go downstairs and ask for a late breakfast if that wasn’t too insolent given the late hour but then a knock sounded from the door.

Quickly he hurried back to bed, just in case it was Rael, but the person who carefully peeked into the room a few seconds later wasn’t a viera.

“Ah, you are awake! That’s good!”, Haurchefant exclaimed happily and brought a small tray with hot soup and also something warm to drink. “It is so late already, you must be horribly hungry. Alphinaud checked in on you earlier but you were still fast asleep and he didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

A little uncertain on how to answer to that, A’viloh just nodded. Haurchefant grinned, put down a mug on the bedside table and handed A‘viloh a comfortingly warm bowl filled with some rather delicious smelling stew.

Instead of fetching the chair from the small desk by the window, Haurchefant sat down at the lower end of the bed balancing the tray with his own lunch on his knees. Rael once told him that ishgardian society had an absurd amount of strict and antiquated rules and so A’viloh couldn’t help but wonder, that although it seemed like a very appropriate distance to him, in Haurchefant’s hometown the fact alone that he dared to sit on someone else’s bed was probably scandalous.

“I hope you don’t mind me having lunch with you.”, the Elezen asked as he noticed A‘viloh staring.

Quickly the Miqo’te lowered his gaze to his bowl of soup. “Not at all.”, he muttered and tried a spoonful of the food just to change the topic. “Mhh, this is very good!”, he mumbled, still chewing, surprised by how good this really was compared to the bland food and bitter teas Rael had usually brought him these last few days. It must have been the Viera’s way of punishing him for running away.

Haurchefant laughed and then for a while they ate in silence.

“You look a lot healthier already.”, the Elezen stated after a while with an amiable smile on his face before taking a sip from his mug.

A‘viloh shrugged a little embarrassed, since it had been his own fault that he hadn’t been well in the first place. “Only because all of you took so good care of me.”

Haurchefant nodded. “You know, you had us all horribly worried right?”

“Sorry about that.”, he said and guitily looked into his mug.

Curiously Haurchefant eyed him for a moment. “Why did you do that anyway? Run out into the storm.”

A bit surprised A’viloh looked up. Had they all thought he had done this on purpose? “There wasn’t a storm when I left! What do I know about weather? I didn’t expect it to start snowing, let alone that much!”

That made the Elezen chuckle again but he still looked at him expecting an answer.

“Still… why did you leave?”

“I assumed Rael told you…”, A’viloh replied not sure what Haurchefant wanted to hear exactly. He nodded. “Rael did. But maybe I want to hear it from you…”

A’viloh sighed. His plan hadn’t been very smart and he felt a little uncomfortable having to explain his reasons to someone else, when in retrospect it didn’t make much sense even to his own ears.

“You know the… circumstances under which we fled Ul’dah… I couldn’t… um… the fact that we didn’t even know what happened to our friends… I wanted to find out, because it doesn’t seem fair to me that we escaped while all of them didn’t…”

“Mhh…”, Haurchefant nodded thoughtfully but let go off the topic for now. Instead he asked, „And how are you feeling today?”

Somehow that question confused A’viloh even more.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question, isn’t it?”, he said still smiling politely.

Of course it was a simple question. Just the answer felt unreasonable complicated to him. To make things even more difficult people who asked such a question usually wanted to hear “I‘m fine, and you?” or “Very good, thank you.” for an answer and rarely the truth. They certainly didn’t want to hear “A few days ago I was convinced I was going to die and honestly it wasn’t that bad, so now I‘m still not sure wether I am happy to still be alive or not”.

“Alright… I guess.”, he mumbled instead. He had never been a good liar and could only hope that this fact wasn’t too obvious for the Elezen.

“You know what?”, Haurchefant proclaimed after watching him thoughtfully for a second. “Today is a wonderful day. We should go for a walk.”

“A walk?!”, A’viloh exclaimed wide-eyed, as if he had just asked something unreasonable of him.

“Why not?”

A’viloh couldn’t think of a good reason why not, other than that he was supposed to stay in bed, so he shrugged.

“Where’s Rael?”, he asked instead.

Haurchefant smirked. “Do you need Rael’s permission to go outside?”

“Of course not.”, the Miqo’te protested. “But Rael will be mad if I run off again, especially against their orders to stay in bed.”

“Rael and Alphinaud went to the observatory earlier.”, Haurchefant explained. “We’ll be back before they are, I promise.”

What was A’viloh supposed to say against that and also against the expectant look on the Elezen’s face. He took another glimpse towards the window and decided that it looked nice enough to go outside.

“Fine.”

“Good!”, Haurchefant exclaimed happily and collected their empty bowls and mugs. “There should be warm clothes for you in the wardrobe. If you need anything else just ask someone. I’ll wait for you by the northern gate.”

After Haurchefant had left, A’viloh remained sitting in his bed for a moment longer contemplating on the Elezen’s question. Yes, he felt better again. But better in what comparison? Better than a few days ago when he had felt and also been half-dead? Though he didn’t feel sick anymore now, there still was a weigh on his heart. From his plan that had failed so spectacularly and even more so from the dreams he wouldn’t have minded to keep on dreaming forever.

Vehemently he shook his head and decided not to think about that now or he would just crawl back under the blanket of his comfortably warm bed again. Instead he got up and took a look into the wardrobe. Almost none of these were his own clothes of course since all he possessed were the ones he had worn on his body that day they fled Ul’dah. Very unsuitable for this climate. But neither did he see the borrowed clothes he had worn that night when he had tried to run away. Everything in here looked even softer and warmer like someone had wanted to make sure he was feeling comfortable. To his surprise the things didn’t look that much too big for him either, unlike his last set of clothes. Besides a few Hyur most people here at Camp Dragonhead were grown up Elezen but these clothes looked like they belonged to neither. Maybe it were clothes for Elezen children, he wondered and also thought that in that case someone must have brought them here just for him.

Grateful for so much effort he picked a few pieces and got dressed. Lazily he ran his fingers through his hair to get rid of the worst knots but the look into the small mirror at the washbasin, where his tired face stared back at him reproachfully, just made him sigh. Once he was ready he took the warm coat out of the wardrobe too and went out to look for Haurchefant. Just as he had said, the Elezen was standing by the gate that led to the north-east, towards the ruins of the Steel Vigil.

From afar Haurchefant already recognised the Miqo’te, his bright red hair a singularity among all the people living here. Pleasantly smiling as always he waved at him and A’viloh couldn’t help but smile a little too and wave back as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“There you are! I see the clothes fit you nicely.”

A’viloh nodded.

“They do. Thank you very much for these.”

Haurchefant dismissively waved with one hand. “It’s the least I could do…”

But he had done a lot more than that, A’viloh thought. “I think there’s more I need to thank you for. Rael told me it was you who saved my life.”

“Mhhh…”, Haurchefant tilted his head as if he wasn’t sure if this statement was entirely the truth. “Rael is too humble. They played a bit of a role in that too. After all it was Rael who noticed you were gone. And it was also Rael who didn’t leave your bedside and tried their best to heal you.”

A’viloh remembered waking up and finding the usually quite touch-averse viera cuddled up to him with a look on their face so horribly sad like he had never seen on them before. Rael had pretended it was nothing but it had been a very unconvincing performance. Asked about it Alphinaud had only offered a few sentences about how worried Rael had looked and how they had used all kinds of spells he himself had never seen or heard of before, all of it to try and save him. It had made him feel even more guilty for his stupidity.

So maybe Haurchefant was right. But still it had been him who had risked going out into the storm to find him.

“Anyway. I still want to thank you! Honestly.”, he insisted. But how honestly was it really?

Sure, he was glad to still be alive. After all his plan hadn’t been to run out into a blizzard and freeze to death, although some of them seemed to think that was the case. But once he found himself in this situation he had to admit that he had welcomed his fate rather willingly. A fact that shocked even himself a little looking back at it now.

“You’re welcome. After all you wouldn’t be any help to your friends frozen to death out there.”, Haurchefant joked with a wry smile on his lips.

“I guess not...”, A’viloh muttered, the topic of his friends making his mood visibly sink again.

Of course the Elezen noticed and his smile turned into a playful grin. “But I acted a little selfish too, you know? I think Camp Dragonhead is a lot friendlier with your company and I would like to have you and your pretty smile around a little longer.”

For a moment A’viloh’s eyes shot up to look at the others face before he quickly pretended that something somewhere a little bit to his left was a lot more interesting. Sometimes Haurchefant randomly said things, A’viloh hadn’t had the slightest idea how to react to. Not because he was that oblivious but simply because it puzzled him. Nonetheless the air suddenly didn’t feel that cold anymore on his face.

Haurchefant was always very kind to him. Well, he mostly was kind to everybody but sometimes he seemed to admire him especially. Him of all people, although there was nothing special about him. Haurchefant sometimes spoke of him like he was one of the greatest heroes of all time and it felt so ridiculous to him. He was just silly, cowardly A‘viloh! What had he ever achieved in his miserable life to justify such admiration? The people called him a Warrior of Light but wasn’t that some grand overstatement? Some days he thought all of this had been a horrible mistake. A great misunderstanding! Then he wondered how he had ever gotten entangled in this madness in the first place and also if he ever would get out of it again. But what else should he do with his life anyway...

While A’viloh’s brain still screeched in desperate search for a proper response, Haurchefant seemed to realise he had flustered him and glossed it over by gesturing to the gate.

“How about we walk a few yalms? There’s something you need to see!”

Still too dumbstruck to speak or to even wonder what the Elezen was talking about, A’viloh nodded and then proceeded to follow him out into the snowy landscape.

After a few minutes Haurchefant paused and took a deep breath. “Isn’t the air wonderful today?”

A’viloh followed his example, breathed deeply and let his gaze wander over the snow covered landscape with a few pines here and there and the mountains and ruins of the Steel Vigil in the distance. The air was cool and fresh, still cold enough that the warm sun couldn’t melt the snow. Instead the rays of sunshine made the scenery shine and sparkle as if everything was covered not in ice but in millions over millions of tiny diamonds.

“It is.”, he answered and smiled, surprised how beautiful this inhospitable landscape could be, before with a sudden spark of curiosity he finally asked. “Where are we going?”

“It’s not far anymore.”, Haurchefant said with a grin on his face and pointed into another direction. Shortly after and only a bit further ahead they reached a small lake.

As they got closer A‘viloh noticed that it not only was covered in a layer of snow and ice but also that quite a few off-duty soldiers, given the proximity to the camp he assumed they had to be, were standing right on top of the frozen lake. No, they were not quite standing. It looked more like they were dancing or flying maybe. More or less gracefully they moved over the lake‘s surface in fluid swift strides, some just moving in wide circles and other swirling around this way or that. A’viloh had never seen something like this and it looked strange and impossible but at the same time very beautiful to him.

The two of them had almost reached the lake by then, A’viloh a few steps ahead to get a better look at the wondrous people on the ice and he already wanted to ask how they did that, when his attention was drawn elsewhere by a curious squawking sound.

“Oh! Look at them!”, the Miqo’te exclaimed, his fascinated smile still turning a little brighter, as he gestured to a small flock of wild geese resting at the shore of the lake. With ruffled feathers they sat closely huddled together at the edge of the ice and suddenly A‘viloh couldn’t help but worry about them. They looked so unbothered by his presence, sleeping through the day and all the hubbub around them, looking all exhausted and frozen with their puffed up feathers. Like anything could happen to them and they wouldn’t even mind.

Strangely he wondered what he himself had looked like when Haurchefant had found him unconscious in the snow. He must have been a pitiful sight. Had the Elezen thought him beyond saving too, just like he himself had. What if he had found him a little later or not at all? Maybe that would have been better, a voice murmured to him just like it had so many times before and for a moment, tempted by the grief heavy on his heart once again, he almost believed it.

But no, he would be dead then and while he would have liked to imagine that this would mean he could be with his loved ones again, it was not exactly what either of the tribes he had lived with believed.

Vaguely he remembered his father working for hours, digging a grave at what used to be Wellwick Wood. An elderly woman too exhausted by their long journey, his grandmother if he remembered correctly, had died shortly after they had arrived there. With a sad smile on his face his father had explained to his children, who had stared down into the hole in the ground with confusion in their eyes, how by returning her body to the earth there could still grow new life from this death.

Or the drake tribe of the Sagolii Desert, who always burned their dead and left the ashes to be carried away by the desert wind, believing that it would make it easier for the deceased‘s aether to return to the Aetheric Sea and create something new elsewhere.

With a sudden sharp pain in his heart A’viloh realised that neither of the people he loved had gotten the burial they would have wanted for themselves. And neither had A‘viloh himself wanted to die in the coldness of Coerthas and be forever forgotten under a thick layer of snow and ice. He had thought about dying before but never had he been this close to it. For a second he wondered if this was something worth speaking to Rael about, but he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t misunderstand and get mad at him again.

“Why do you make such a sad face now?”, Haurchefant asked having noticed the smile slip from the Miqo’te’s face. But A’viloh just vehemently shook his head and focused on the geese again.

“They must be horribly cold.”, he wondered in a voice that suggested he already planned to take all of them to the safety of his comfortably warm room.

Haurchefant chuckled. “Don’t worry, they survived the storm out here after all. They keep each other warm, that’s why you‘ll rarely see one of them alone. A bit like you and your friends.”

“Maybe…”, A’viloh answered thinking about this comparison for a moment. “I just wish it wouldn’t always be me who needs to be taken care of. But as proven in Ul’dah and now once again I am simply too weak and useless to keep myself alive, not to mention anyone else.”

The Elezen’s face got a little stern as he folded his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t say that, I am sure it’s not true! This was just bad luck! You are neither weak nor useless!”

A’viloh shrugged. “But that’s how I feel right now...”

Slowly Haurchefant nodded before speaking again with a silent but determined voice. “Listen. I‘ll never forget how bravely you fought for Francel although you barely knew him. You could have gotten yourself in trouble with that and you helped him anyway.”

“It’s not like I did that on my own -”, A’viloh tried to protest but was immediately interrupted. “But you still helped! And I’m sure even without Rael you would have done so!”

Another shrug was all Haurchefant got in response, so the Elezen thought for a second before making an offer. “You want to make yourself useful, right? Get stronger? I could teach you how to fight like a real ishgardian knight, with sword and shield. Or we have some dragoons at Camp Dragonhead too! I’m sure there’s a lot you could learn from them.”

A‘viloh‘s face turned to disbelief. “I really don’t think I could fight with armor and weapons this heavy…”

“You can’t say so if you don’t try! And I have you know that dragoon armors are surprisingly light. How do you think they could still be this agile otherwise? Promise me to at least try training with them a little!”

He didn’t really want to agree to that. He knew he would make a fool of himself. But how could he say no with Haurchefant trying everything in his power to cheer him up. Weakly he shook his head and muttered: “Fine…”

“Perfect!”, Haurchefant exclaimed with a bright smile on his face. “I think an early reward for your efforts is appropriate then!”

Confused A’viloh watched him take a small bag off of his shoulders, which he hadn’t even noticed until now. For a moment the Elezen was busy undoing a knot before he opened the bag and presented to A‘viloh a set of two weirdly shaped blades attached to pieces of wood with leather straps. He had no idea what these constructs were meant to do and that was plainly visible on his face. “What’s that?”

“Ice skates of course!”, Haurchefant said as if that would explain it all but the Miqo’te‘s face remained clueless, so Haurchefant gestured to the lake behind them. “You attach them to your boots so you can walk on the ice like this!”

“Oh!”, A’viloh exclaimed as he understood what Haurchefant was planning. “I don’t think-… I mean I‘ve never-… You don’t really want me to step on that lake do you?” The idea somehow scared him.

“Why not?”, Haurchefant asked for the second time today with this smile that made the question sound like a challenge.

“It’s just a bit of ice!”, A‘vi objected. “What if it breaks?”

The Elezen shook his head and proceeded to fasten the metal blades beneath his boots. “Ah, don’t worry. The ice is thick enough, it will take at least a few more days to melt.”

“I don’t know…”, was all A’viloh replied as Haurchefant pressed another pair of skates into his hands. But the Elezen remained determined and took a few wobbly steps through the snow and onto the ice. “See! I can stand on it and it doesn’t break! You are a lot lighter than me, so why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Oh, you don’t know my bad luck!, A‘viloh thought but Haurchefant didn’t look like he would take that for an excuse. Instead he stretched out a hand towards the Miqo’te. “Come one! Believe me, this is going to be funny!”

For a second A‘viloh pondered his options. The idea of nothing but a little bit of ice between him and the water still terrified him but Haurchefant seemed so excited about this and the other people actually seemed to have fun too. Maybe he should at least pretend to try... Reluctantly he sat down on a rock and tried to put on the skates just like Haurchefant had done a moment ago.

“The clasp on the back too. Make sure none of them are loose… Yes, that looks fine!”, Haurchefant helpfully explained. As A’viloh got up, he almost flopped right back down into the snow. It was a weird feeling to balance his whole weight on only two thin pieces of metal. As he carefully took the first few steps towards the lake Haurchefant reached out for him once more. “Here! Take my hand! I don’t want you to fall…”

Hesitantly A‘vi stepped onto the ice and immediately felt like the ground was being pulled away beneath his feet. He struggled for balance, feeling himself falling backwards, so Haurchefants arm was a very welcome thing to hold on to.

With a chuckle the Elezen tried to loosen A‘vi‘s desperate grip on his arm and instead took each of his hand in one of his own before carefully making slow steps backwards pulling A‘viloh over the ice, which A’vi could swear was making suspicious crackling sounds below them. There was no way to tell the blades beneath his feet not to move, so all A’viloh could do was try not to fall and plead to Haurchefant with ears flat on his head and panic in his eyes, as he slowly was pulled further onto the lake. “No, no, no. Take me back, that’s a horrible idea!”

“Calm down. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise.”, Haurchefant said soothingly and continued to explain to him how to move on the ice skates. And in fact the Elezen’s calm voice slowly made A’viloh feel less anxious. His hands, frantically clasping at Haurchefant’s, relaxed along with his legs. It was still a weird feeling to be standing on the ice but now it felt a lot easier to remain balanced. He glanced at the people around them while remaining as still as possible, studied their movements for a moment and then tentatively tried to mimic the way they slowly pushed their feet above the slippery surface. To his surprise he really moved forward without much effort and also without feeling the sensation of falling again, closer to Haurchefant who had steadied him with his outstretched arms so far.

“See! It’s not that difficult.”, he said while making another step backwards so A’viloh had to follow with another step forward. The Miqo’te, strangely excited about the fact that he was actually moving on these weird ice-blades, laughed happily. “You are even going backwards!”

Haurchefants laughed. “One step after the other. Let’s teach you how to go forward first, hm? I‘ll let go off one of your hands but don’t worry, I still got you. One feet after the other just like you did before…”

In fact it almost felt easier now that he could use one of his arms to balance himself. Very slowly at first they floated above the icy surface of the lake but soon A‘viloh got braver. Once he almost lost his balance but for a comparably tall and strong person like Haurchefant it seemed like a very easy task to keep a small Miqo’te on his feet. Almost falling had felt like a shock for a second but only moments later they were laughing about it and in the end A’viloh was surprised and also a little proud how quickly he had learned and how much fun this was.

He wasn’t sure how much time they spent there on the frozen lake but at some point a bell sounded from the nearby Camp. Startled A’viloh looked up (and almost lost his balance again). “How late is it? I’m sure you have more important things to do than this! I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from doing your work.”

But Haurchefant just laughed and teased, “What could be more important than prove to you that not all of Coerthas is a deadly wasteland trying to kill you? But I think we really should return soon. I don’t want you to get cold again and after all we also don’t want Rael to find out about this little excursion, do we?”

For a second A’viloh wished the viera could see him now and wondered what their reaction would be like. The thought made him chuckle.

And as they floated, one last circle around the lake, A’viloh couldn’t help but wonder that maybe it was happy moments like this. The reason he was still here. Moments that made his life worth living.

---

inspired by the poem The Reversal by Leila Chatti

[pathologicalreid]

cherry trees | S.R.

You find Spencer reading some... interesting poetry.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: breeding kink, unprotected piv sex, mentions of ovulation, pregnancy, fingering, d/s dynamic if you squint, nipple play, mating press, spencer reads erotic poetry, aftercare word count: 3.07k a/n: i have no explanation for myself. the poetry in this is all neruda, if you're interested in it. also this is only one interpretation of that poem but it worked for the plot. i still think im bad at writing smut but i liked this idea so much that i had to.

Peering over at your boyfriend from the kitchen, you filled your glasses with the wine that Rossi had gifted you and returned to Spencer in the living room. His nose was buried in a book, which wasn’t new in the slightest. What piqued your interest was the fact that he had covered the book he was reading. Both the front and back covers had been disguised with brown paper, preventing you from reading the title of the book.

You set his wine glass on his coaster before sitting down next to him, keeping your glass in your hands. “What are you reading?” You asked quietly as you tucked your feet beneath you.

“Poems,” he answered, “be done in a minute.” He adjusted his hands so that he was holding the book with one hand and resting the other hand on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing your bare skin with the pad of his thumb.

Surprisingly enough, Spencer was a touchy guy for someone who hated germs, but you supposed he trusted you enough. You lived together, you weren’t married, but the two of you never seemed bothered by that fact. “Take your time,” you responded, Spencer reading poetry took about as long as it took you to look through a pamphlet.

He said nothing in response, completely enthralled in the book.

Standing up, you let his hand fall from your thigh, “I’m going to go change,” you said, leaning over and kissing the top of his head, noting the way he hid the pages of the book from your view.

Shedding your work clothes, you changed into pajamas, throwing a sweatshirt over your tank top before returning to the living room.

Spencer had shifted positions on the couch, “Are you alright?” You asked him, hesitantly walking over to him. From the looks of it, he was on the same page he was on when you left.

He didn’t answer, prompting you to narrow your eyes, and reached over and plucked the book from his hands, “Hey!” He said reaching out for the book, but you lifted it just barely out of his reach, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stand. Instead, he reached out for you, pulling you down onto his lap so that your legs were on either side of his lap.

You felt it before you saw it. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your core, allowing your gaze to flicker up to his book that you were still holding. “Spencer, are you reading smut?” You asked, amusement clear in your voice.

“Technically, they’re called erotic poems,” he answered very matter-of-factly.

Grinning, you opened the book, “Oh, what a gentleman, reading his porn instead of watching it.” Briefly, you looked at the book, “’Of everything I have seen, it’s you I want to go on seeing’-“

Spencer squeezed your waist, “What will it take for you to stop?”

“’Of everything I’ve touched, it’s your flesh I want to go on touching,’” you continued anyway, leaning over his shoulder so you continue reading the book. Spencer took the opportunity to press gentle kisses up the side of your neck before focusing on the soft spot behind your ear, eliciting a soft moan from you.

You were well aware of the effect you were having on your boyfriend, feeling his dick twitch beneath you as you read to him.

Attempting to ignore the fact that Spencer had slipped his hands underneath your sweatshirt, touching your bare skin only at the sliver of skin between your tank top and your shorts. “’I love your orange laughter. I am moved by the sight of you sleeping.’” You read softly.

“Can I have my book back now?” He asked, his voice was an octave lower and his grip on your waist tightened, prompting you to grind your hips into him, “fuck, baby.”

Once Spencer started cursing, you were already past the point of no return. “What in this book got you so hard, huh? What were you thinking about doing to me?” You pulled away slightly and looked at him, his pupils dilated, and lips parted. “’License my roving hands, and let them go before, behind, above, below.’”

Spencer groaned and you knew you had hit your mark, he reached behind his head, trying to grab the book from your hands, but you stood up and backed away from him. “Stop there, baby. Okay?” He pleaded, causing you to flip the page.

“’I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses,” You whispered, reading intently from the page. You could see why Spencer was so enamored with the words, you found yourself falling into the same rabbit hole. “Is this about...?” You started, but you couldn’t finish it.

He sighed exasperatedly, “I will do anything for you to forget I was interested in this.” He said, looking at you from the other side of the coffee table.

Intently, you eyed the next line in the poem, I want to do with you what Spring does with the cherry trees. “Is this what you want?” You asked him in earnest, “Do you want to do with me what the Spring does with the cherry trees?” You were breathing heavily as he scrambled to stand up. Walking backward away from him, you lifted the book back up and turned to the next page, “’I have scarcely left you, when you go in me, crystalline, or trembling, or uneasy, wounded by me, or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes…’” you gasped as the book was swiftly knocked to the ground.

Backed into the wall, your gaze narrowed as Spencer caged you against the wall with one arm on either side of you. “I asked you to stop reading,” he murmured, ducking his head to attach his lips to your neck, following the column of your throat.

“If you wanted to knock me up so badly, all you needed to do was ask,” you spoke to him lowly, a small, throaty noise escaping your lips as his hands moved to creep up your sweatshirt.

Spencer hummed before pulling away from you just enough to pull the extra fabric over your head, placing his lips on yours as soon as he could. Your hands frantically tried to undo his tie, pulling on the silky fabric before tossing it to the floor and starting to work on the buttons of his shirt. “Needy,” he teased as he pulled away slightly to help you with his shirt.

You leaned back up to kiss him once his shirt was off, shuddering as his hand slid down your front, slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts and rubbing you over your panties, “Fuck, Spence.”

Grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself upright, he pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side and circled your entrance with one finger at a tantalizingly slow pace. “You’re so wet,” he whispered, pressing his finger into your wet hole. “If you wanted me to knock you up so badly, you should’ve just asked,” he taunted.

Your walls clenched around his finger; it wasn’t enough – you needed more of him. He was turning this into a battle of wills, and your resolve was fading fast. Spencer tracked your cycle better than you did, but you did know you were ovulating. He knew it too.

“I want to hear you ask,” he said, slowly withdrawing his finger from your cunt before pushing two back in.

A small whimper slipped through your mouth, “Spence, ‘m ovulating,” you breathed, gasping for air as he thrust his fingers into you. You leaned your head forward onto him, landing on his bare chest.

“Why do you think I was reading those poems?” He asked.

Groaning, you muffled your moans in his chest, “You want to breed me? You want to-“ Your voice broke off into a yelp as he firmly pressed his thumb against your clit. “Do what the Spring does to the cherry trees. Fuck me, please. Come in me,” you begged mindlessly, any remaining willpower fading away as your orgasm built.

You whimpered as Spencer withdrew his fingers from your pussy. “Poor baby,” he whispered, “you need to be bred that badly?”

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, grinning as Spencer crouched down to place his hands on the backs of your thighs, lifting your feet from the ground to move you to your bedroom.

He sat you down gently on the edge of the bed, pulling away from you and tugging your tank top over your head. You took the initiative to shuffle further onto the bed, watching intently as Spencer unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in only his boxers as he clambered onto the bed and hovered over you.

Lifting your head up slightly, you kissed him. It was gentle at first, but lust took over and the two of you grew frantic. Spencer moved his head, leaving big wet kisses down your neck before turning his attention to your breasts. Enveloping your peaked nipple in his mouth, he gently nipped at it with his teeth as his other hand rose to your unattended breast, pinching the small bud with his index finger and thumb.

Your hips inadvertently bucked up, just for them to be pushed back down by Spencer’s as he expertly continues his ministrations on your chest. It took all of your remaining focus to grind up into him, desperate for some kind of friction.

Spencer pulled his mouth from your breast and looked at you, holding your gaze as he tugged at your panties and pulled them off, carefully guiding your legs as he did so. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he whispered. “You’ve got that little glint in your eye, and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“You have such a dirty mouth,” you tell him, still trying to steady your breathing. You looked down at him, kneeling between your legs, his brown eyes were completely lust-blown. You gasped as your boyfriend returned his fingers to your core, “Please.”

He hummed in response, slipping two fingers into your dripping heat as he watched your every reaction. Then, as if you had forgotten his intentions, he placed a hand on your abdomen and he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, eliciting a moan from your lips.

Turning your head into the pillows, you reached around for something – anything – to grab as the orgasm you had been chasing all night finally approached. “Babe… come…” You managed to squeak out as your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Come for me, come on my fingers, baby,” he encouraged the climax out of you, and you knew he relished the way your eyes rolled back and your back arched off of the sheets. “Good girl,” he praised you softly, working you through your orgasm, his fingers moving at a slower pace.

Once you caught your breath, you propped yourself up on your elbows, smiling dazedly at him. You reached out and pawed at his boxers, “Off, please.” You said simply, your grin expanding as he maneuvered and removed the last remaining layer.

His pink cock stood at attention before you and you found yourself subconsciously biting your lip at the sight of it. “Tell me what you want,” he spoke lowly, reaching over to the other side of the bed and grabbing a pillow, lifting your hips off of the mattress and placing the pillow beneath them.

Your cheeks flushed, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Is that all?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at you suspiciously as he reached down to your cunt, gathering your slick on his fingers and using it to pump his cock.

Any and all resolve had gone completely out the window as you watched his hand move up and down his length, “Want you to breed me.” You told him earnestly, “Get me pregnant, put a baby in me. I-“ You paused for a moment, meeting his eyes carefully, “I want to have a baby with you, Spencer.”

That seemed to be enough for him as Spencer gently rubbed the tip up and down your slit before gently pushing in. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered to you softly, “like you were made for me.”

Once he had wholly sheathed himself inside of you, he gave you a moment to adjust and you savored the way you throbbed around him. “Move,” you breathed.

Swiftly, he hooked his arms beneath your knees and leaned over you, effectively folding you in half and pressing his cock impossibly deep into your cunt. Slowly, he pulled out halfway before pushing his hips back into yours, finding a rhythm.

“You’re so deep,” you whimpered. It was some inexplicable feeling; you could feel him everywhere. Inhaling sharply when he pulled out almost entirely before snapping them back into you, continuing that quick pace. “Harder,” you murmured, the only confirmation that he had heard you being the fact that he had begun pounding into you.

He let out a moan and you clenched around him in an attempt to encourage him to be vocal, “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He continued his pace, lifting himself up so that he could run his hand down your body, “You’ll be so pretty pregnant with our baby.” He dropped one of your legs, opening your core ever so slightly more.

Your hips lifted up to meet his as he massaged one of your breasts with his free hand, “Come in me, make me a mommy,” you whispered, getting closer to your own orgasm as well.

Spencer’s hand dropped to your clit, rubbing small circles as he continued ruining your pussy. His rhythm staggered slightly, and his head dropped to the crook of your neck, groaning into your sweaty skin as he spilled his seed into you.

The heat of his cum in you hurtled you toward your second orgasm, bringing your hand to your mouth and biting the knuckle of your index finger as you came. You felt your tunnel spasming around Spencer’s now half-hard cock, unable to control any of it as your vision spun slightly.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked softly, pressing gentle kisses to your neck as he stayed still, effectively keeping his seed inside of you.

You nodded slowly, still trying to catch your breath.

He lifted himself up slightly, “Words, please.” He whispered to you, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Nodding again, you took a deep breath, “I’m good. Forgot to breathe.” Your voice was quiet as you reached your arms around Spencer, the aftershocks of your orgasm making their way through you. Softly, you skimmed your palms over Spencer’s back.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” he said, referring to the inadvertent clenching of his length. “I’ll get hard again.”

You hummed as if that wasn’t the worst thing in the world, rolling your hips up into his and gasping at the friction on your oversensitive heat. “Then let’s better our odds,” you whispered, resting your head back on the pillows and biting your lip as you noticed Spencer growing hard again while still inside you.

He moved slightly inside of you, pressing himself tightly inside of your pussy, “You’re going to be the death of me.” He whispered, “wanting me to pump you full of my cum.”

“Please, Spence,” you whimpered, tears growing in your eyes as he started to fuck you again. “You feel so good in me,” you told him, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his hips.

Spencer’s pace sped up at your encouragement, completely ravishing you, “gonna make you come around my cock again, gonna breed you.”

You had completely faded away to the point where the only noises in the room were the obscene squelching as Spencer pounded into you and small, hitched breaths that escaped your lips.

The third orgasm took you completely by surprise, you hadn’t felt the coil in your abdomen before it took you over and you wrapped your arms around Spencer as he fucked you through it, his pace refusing to cease until his hips stuttered again, his seed painting your insides white.

Your legs dropped from around his hips, falling to the sheets. Gently, Spencer pulled out of you, leaving you whining at both the sensitivity and the empty feeling.

“Are you crying? Did I hurt you?” He asked suddenly, fear filling his voice as he returned from his lust-filled state.

Shaking your head, you swallowed thickly, “Just sensitive. I’m alright, Spence.” You smiled softly at him, a breathy laugh escaping your lips.

He ruffled your hair affectionately, “What are you laughing about, darling?”

“I just understood what the pillow under my hips is functioning for,” you answered. A sort of ramp so that none of his cum spilled out of you – Spencer Reid never did anything halfway. Next to you, he was tugging his shirt back over his head, having already put his boxers back on. “How long do I have to stay like this?”

Spencer hummed before leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “You’re not trapped there. You can move – as long as you’re feeling okay.” He spoke to you before walking out of the bedroom for just one moment, returning from the kitchen to find you sitting up in bed.

You thanked him as he handed you a glass of water, “I love you,” you whispered, reaching over, and intertwining your fingers.

He smiled at you fondly, “I love you too.”

“I do want it, you know. I know it’s been a while since we talked about a wedding and kids, but I do want that,” you told him candidly. “With you,” you added, for good measure.

Gently, Spencer sat down on the edge of the mattress, “Good,” he whispered, “because there’s a good chance that I just got you pregnant.”

Your cheeks flushed, “and if you didn’t, at least now we know we’ll enjoy ourselves trying.”

“And in the interim, what do you say we take a shower and then watch that movie?” He asked, smoothing your hair back before cupping your cheek with his hand.

Humming, you leaned into his touch, “A bath?” You negotiated, “I’m not sure I can stay standing for a shower.”

Spencer grinned before leaning forward to kiss you, “I’ll go get the water running.”

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

[st-dionysus]

(The Poem is named) Emetophobia CW

It’s 2024 and I’m in a 20 year old drag bar, watching the very first trans-masculine performer to compete on their stage, he gets second place even though he deserved first.

I show up to the men’s bathhouse on trans night to get free entry and get turned away at the door, and told it’s for transgirls only, bitch you could have put it on the flyer that transmen need not apply.

I’m doing a line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I get banned from the camsite for listing myself as transgender when I don’t have a dick, I complain online and get told that the trans-masculine body is to grotesque to be fetishized and I should be grateful.

I wear a packer and hitch up a skirt, walk the street, get $20, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Cissie puts a TW #body-mutilation tag under my thirst trap. Tranny puts a TW #dysphoria tag under my thirst trap.

T-girl with a callout post pedojackets me, Enby with TME in bio pedojackets me, T-boy with a self-deprecating joke about men in his bio pedojackets me.

I do another line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic wearing a mask – not cause I’m compromised (I am), just to hide my beard – avoiding making everyone uncomfortable.

I am getting re-diagnosed with BPD, which just means I have bitch disorder and no one trusts me.

I take my pills and throw them up. I drink my liquor before the beer and throw them up.

I am just 14 when the picture and videos go up. Remind me that I have it easy, they were only pictures and videos.

I am just 17 when the recording of my proof stops before it happens, my phone memory is full, I’m called a liar and now I can’t see buttered crackers, thanksgiving, or sriracha sauce without wanting to kill myself.

No one gets me therapy, but they still want to convert me, she puts her hands down my pants, at least I’m 19, to remind me I’m a woman – tell me how they love trans men again.

I do a third line of ketamine off the table, realize it doesn’t effect me, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I call myself a dog, I start biting my lovers and I have to hold back from ripping out a chunk of flesh, I don’t think I’d throw it up.

I am reading the statistics, 40% of BPD patients try and kill themselves. 1 in 2 transgender men try and kill themselves. I’m one of them. I’m 12 and I swallowed all the pills. I’m 14 and the gun is empty. I’m 17 and I put the box-opener against my throat. Therapist calls me a liar, there is no scar, and my words don’t count for anything.

I’m using he/him pronouns for Stormé DeLarverie, like the stonewall veteran association said to, and telling you he started the riot, calling it stealing transfem valor from a woman who told you she didn’t fucking do it.

I’m shoving my fingers down my throat in a fit of mania, convinced I can vomit up my uterus. She tells me I should be grateful, she’d do anything to be able to get pregnant.

My brother in the struggle gets bottom surgery without top, calling it stealing transfem valor to feel comfortable in his body.

It’s 2024 and I’m at trans pride, the announcers tells everyone to give a round of applause for trans woman, a round of applause for gender-queers, a round of applause for transfems, a round of applause for the enbies, a round of applause for trans-masculine people. You forgot someone. Did you know a trans man started the first ever transgender pride parade?

A book on queer history talks about gay men and lesbians and trans women and the women who dressed as men for better job opportunities. I’m reminded that my invisibility is a privilege, if you aren’t seen you don’t get bashed.

I’m 13 and they throw me in the girls bathroom, pin me down, beat me, and in black sharpie write “dyke”, write “tranny”, write “lesbo”, and pull my hair out the cap I shoved it in.

I’m 19 with D cups that a binder can’t hide and a beard I refuse to shave less I break the mirror and kill myself with the shards of glass I would swallow.

Man at the bus stop calls me tranny and tells me I’ll never be a woman. I’d laugh if he didn’t have his hand on my throat. Calling it stealing transfem valor.

I’m 21 and have to pull a taser on him, cause from the back, even with short hair and top surgery, I look rape-able.

I’m 23 and in the gay district when they chase me down the street, calling me faggot.

Make another forcemasc post, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Read an article about a trans man prostitute that kills himself and ends up another female statistic.

Read an article about a trans man shooter, they blame the HRT he didn’t have access too.

Going to read a callout about me, five pages on Google Docs, does this post make it on the list?

Do a final line of ketamine, write the final line of a poem that makes me want to die, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I puke and miss the toilet.

[aestherin]

notes | kazuha x gn! reader

hcs

random headcanons because i had a brainrot session otw back to my dorm :D (also not proofread :>)

also may be considered a stand-alone but may also be viewed as kazuha from my keep my heart smau hehe (would actually be very in character since he's a lit major there) ^^

kazuha, who shared several major classes with you on your third year of university

kazuha, who by chance sat beside you on the first day and opted to just sit at that spot for the whole academic year

kazuha, who impulsively and secretly wrote a haiku on his notes app when he heard your voice for the first time

kazuha, whose interest was piqued by you when he got to read the works you've written when your professors required you to exchange papers and critique each other's works

kazuha, whose eyes subconsciously always trail back to you whenever they find the perfect chance

kazuha, who did not realize it until his friend venti told him about how he's making everything so obvious

kazuha, whose heart jumped and dropped at the same time when the two of you got paired for a certain literary project

kazuha, who tried so hard to hide his flushed face when the distance between the two of you became close to nothing as you two wrote down words on the same piece of paper

kazuha, who only realized how deep he has fallen when you smiled genuinely at him for the first time

kazuha, who stayed up in his room that whole night after that revelation

kazuha, who, for the first time ever in his life, could not come up with words to explain what he was feeling

kazuha, who started writing anonymous messages addressed to you on little post-its

kazuha, who started attaching those post-its to your bag every time he finds a chance

kazuha, who starts looking forward to writing you short poems and short notes every single day

kazuha, who is perplexed by the note he found attached to his bag once he got back from the restroom

kazuha, whose brows furrow even deeper once he realizes that it was the exact same note he had stuck to your bag earlier that day

kazuha, who felt his heart overwhelm his whole being when he spotted a very familiar penmanship at the bottom of the paper

i know your handwriting, kaedehara ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) would you care to send me more of these cute little messages at [contact number]? (,,>﹏<,,)

kazuha, who almost dropped his phone as he attempted to type as swift as he could with his hands shaking

kazuha, who swore that he would never ever waste the golden opportunity that you gave him

[slut4sugu]

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

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

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

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

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

B- BODY (his partners favorite body part.)

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

C- CUDDLING ( big spoon or little?)

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

D-DICK SIZE (how big is he)

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

E- EXPERIENCE ( how experienced is he?)

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

F- FAVORITE POSITION( self explanatory.)

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

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

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

H- HUGS ( how does he hug? )

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

I- INTIMACY ( how romantic is he? )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

N- NO’s (turns off for him.)

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

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

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

P-PACE ( how fast is he ? )

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

Q- QUICKES ( self explanatory )

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

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 6 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: In the aftermath of the kiss, Bob and Anna try to process their feelings. Bob works on more of his poetry while Anna hides from her friends, but neither of them can get past their attraction. When another man arrives during a night out, all Bob feels is jealousy.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Taking Anna to Chippy's was a mistake, because Bob was falling harder by the minute. She was cute and smart. Witty and reserved. And the fact that she was a little tipsy after one drink just made her more endearing. Jessica could drink more Sam Adams than anyone he'd ever seen before, and Bradshaw's wife could probably play beer pong professionally, but not Anna. She was giggling and demanding he not download a dating app. She was smiling nonstop and touching him. And he wasn't even allowed to have a chance with her.

She only lived a mile or so from campus, which was a shame, because Bob would have liked to spend more time with her. He played with the radio dials in his old truck as he drove, trying to keep his hands busy. And that's when he swore he heard Anna whisper a line from his poem.

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, and Bob tapped the accelerator when he realized the light was green. He must have been mistaken. There was no way anyone actually read the stuff he posted online, let alone Anna. He just did it for a way to help him release his emotions and thoughts.

But he wanted to make sure. When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

He was instantly distracted by the way she kept her eyes on his as her chest rose and fell a little faster. She unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted closer to him along the seat, and he froze as she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips found his like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she made a soft sound, he raised his hand up to touch her cheek, something he'd been dying to do for weeks and weeks. Her skin felt silky soft as she nibbled gently on his lip, and then he remembered everything that she'd said to him. He couldn't start down this path just to have her put up another roadblock. 

He forced himself away from her. "Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, praying that by some twist of face, she'd end up in his arms. 

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob." He watched her climb down and grab her tote bag, barely glancing back at him as she slammed the door and ran inside the building. 

He was going to offer to walk her to her door. He wanted to make sure she got inside safely. He wanted to do a lot of things that would hopefully come across in a friendly way. This was decidedly not how he imagined his night would end, staring at the spot where she disappeared inside and wondering if she regretted kissing him. She really ran away from him at top speed without any clarification.

"Damn it, Bob," he whispered as he put his truck in gear. But he didn't know what he could have done differently. He just wished he didn't know how fucking good it felt to have Anna's lips on his, because it would probably never happen again. He wanted to ask her why she kissed him in the first place. Then an even more devastating thought occurred to him. What if she didn't want to be his friend after this?

He really needed Nat to come home from her deployment, because he knew he couldn't mention this to Jessica at D&D. What would he even tell her? That Anna kissed him exactly once and then ran away faster than an olympic sprinter?

Then he parked in front of his house and saw the text that made him shove his phone into his pocket and not look at it again until morning. 

Anna Webber: I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

--------------------------

Anna was curled up in her sad bed trying not to cry. Bob would probably never want to talk to her again now. What kind of person told a man they just wanted to be friends and then kissed him like the words meant nothing? Anna, apparently. But it felt so nice. No. Better than that. Kissing Bob felt necessary.

Before she could change her mind, she texted him and then turned off her phone. I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

She rolled onto her back and started to cry. Not for the first time, she thought about calling Kevin and screaming at him for ruining everything. She should feel a sense of freedom by now after finally leaving him in New Jersey with Alyssa, but she just didn't. It wasn't fair that Anna had no control over what Kevin did when he still seemed to dictate what she was allowed to do. But she knew she had to be a better person than him.

When she reached down to the floor, her fingers found the stack of books she was currently reading for work and for entertainment. She picked up the Vonnegut from Bob, because it wasn't even really that late, and she was in a mood now anyway. Then she took the time to find the note from him. Her new bookmark. She read through her tears until they stopped. She didn't dog ear a single page. She used his note to save her spot, and then she fell asleep with the book pressed to her chest. 

She felt awful on Friday at work. When she gave her first lecture, it felt forced instead of insightful, and her notes seemed to blur on the pages in front of her. She didn't have an appetite, which was fine since she had no money for food and forgot to pack a lunch. Instead of going to the weird tree and the nicest women she'd ever met, she sat in her office and cried with her head resting on her folded arms. 

Bob didn't text her back, but she figured he wouldn't. There was really nothing else to say. She already decided she wasn't going to mention the kiss to Advanced Calculus or Advanced Physics, but perhaps she should tell them it would be a good thing after all if Bob went on a dating app. He deserved to be happy. Someone else would make him happy. 

As Anna was packing up everything she would need for the weekend, there was a knock on her office door. It was late, and her stomach was growling loudly, but she called out, "Come in!"

The room was so small, Bradley Bradshaw and his wife barely fit on the opposite side of her desk when standing side by side, and Anna watched him shuffle around so he was standing partially behind her. "What's up, Anna?" he rasped with a grin, and she had no difficulty imagining him ten years younger in a loud fraternity house. 

"Hi," she replied, clasping her hands together. "What are you both doing here? I was just about to catch the bus and go home."

"You never came to lunch today!" her friend complained. "And you didn't text me back. I was starting to get nervous that the creeper from the sociology department got to you or something."

"No," Anna replied with a soft laugh. "I'm fine."

Two pairs of eyes bored into her, and then Bradley and his wife both blurted out, "How was Chippy's?"

"Did Bob make a move?" Bradley asked, his hands caressing his wife through her tweed blazer. 

Anna swallowed a huge lump of guilt. "We're just friends," she managed to say.

"Yeah, yeah," he said with an eye roll. "Sure. But did he? Because I've been being a dick all week about getting him on a dating app even though I know he's not into the idea. Jake and I thought it might help."

"Are you serious right now?" his wife gasped, smacking at his hands while Anna rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "I told you not to interfere," she hissed.

"We're just friends," Anna repeated a little louder over the two of them arguing. "Chippy's was great. Amazing peanuts. Sticky floors. Grouchy bartender. It was like being back in undergrad."

Just as Bradley was raising his hand, about to speak again, he took an elbow to the side that seemed to make him think better of it as his wife asked, "Then you won't mind going back on Wednesday? To surprise Jessica for her birthday?"

"It's her birthday?" Anna asked, excited by the idea of being invited to a celebration even though Bob would definitely be there as well.

"Yes. I texted you about it when you skipped out on us at lunchtime."

"Right," she replied, knowing she'd only been checking her phone occasionally on purpose. "I'll be there on Wednesday. Of course I will." She was going to have to suck up her embarrassment over everyone trying to push her and Bob together, but at least they didn't know about the kiss she ran away from. "Anything for Jess."

"And are you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?" her friend asked as her husband's hands crept back into place on her body. 

"I have a lot of work to do. Midterms are just around the corner," she replied lamely. "So, probably not."

With a sigh, her friend nodded once and said, "Please don't skip lunch next week. We missed you."

Bradley said, "I'll make extra hummus," before his wife started pushing him to the door.

The confirmation that the hummus was in fact homemade left Anna feeling slightly jealous. That feeling only grew as she watched her friend take Bradley's chin in her hand and softly say, "Oh, Beer Boy. I don't even want to know what kind of a monstrosity of a dating profile you'd make for Bob."

He smiled and waved at Anna before he looked at his wife and said, "I just want all of my friends to be as happy as I am."

She grabbed him by his khaki belt and said, "Let's stop by the library."

Anna desperately wanted to be that happy, too.

---------------------------

"What's your problem, man?" Mickey asked as he drove Bob home from Dungeons & Dragons. "You were weird all night."

"Just tired," Bob replied, and he was being at least partially honest. He'd been staying up later than usual, working on some poetry and reading the books Anna recommended. He enjoyed all of them; she seemed to know exactly how to reach his innermost hidden thoughts and ideas. She somehow understood him, and that was more exciting than he wanted it to be right now. But when he and Anna had to be together in person again, he knew it was going to be a different story. He was almost relieved she didn't show up at the Hard Deck earlier, because he had no idea how to act around her now. 

She knew he had feelings for her, and that kiss had roughed him up a bit. Even a couple days afterwards, he thought he could still feel the pressure of her lips on his and smell her shampoo. 

"Are you still hung up on Anna?"

Mickey's words made Bob laugh. "More than ever before."

"You know what I think you should do?" his friend asked as he zipped along in his sports car.

Bob cradled his forehead and said, "I'd love to hear it," even though he was pretty sure it would annoy him.

"You should tell her that you don't want to be just friends. And then kiss her."

Bob turned and looked at Mickey as the passing street lights illuminated him and then left him in darkness over and over again. "I'm not going to do that. All I can do is hope she changes her mind." He didn't mention the fact that they had already kissed; he was sure she was too embarrassed by it to want it to become public knowledge. 

As Mickey pulled up to Bob's house, he said, "Well whatever you're doing right now, it's not working."

Bob sighed and said, "Thanks. That's really helpful. See you on Monday. Oh, and don't forget about the surprise party thing on Wednesday."

"Yeah, I won't forget. Hard Deck at seven o'clock."

"Chippy's!" Bob called out as he pulled away. Sometimes he felt like the most organized one out of all of his friends, and it was honestly amazing that Mickey even managed to get to work on time. At least Suzanne's lights were off as Bob walked up to his porch and let himself inside. He didn't have the energy to deal with anyone else tonight. 

He stripped down to his underwear and got ready for bed, but he took his computer with him. He was ridiculous for doing it, but he looked at the notes he'd typed up last night and started writing. It was never as beautiful or eloquent as the things he read from others, but posting his poetry online felt like he was at least taking ownership of something he created. This poem, however, he didn't know if he'd be able to post it at all. He found himself writing about red hair when he realized it would warrant a mature rating label if he ever did decide to post it. Then he started to think about all the things he wanted to do with Anna and her red hair. 

Bob grunted and set his computer aside. She was giving him mixed signals, and he wasn't sure she'd ever change her mind about being with him, but that didn't stop his body from responding as he imagined her beautiful hair spread out on his pillow. He'd take fistfuls of it and press his nose to it. He'd tug gently on it and tell her that she was beautiful. He would press kisses to the coppery strands and then guide her lower on his body as he grasped a little harder.

"Shit," Bob panted, kicking off his covers and pulling himself free from his gray boxer briefs. He jerked off to the idea of Anna and him together. She'd kiss his hips and thighs and laugh softly before licking along his length. His name would sound like the most beautiful poetry on her lips. Her freckles would stand out in the soft lamplight. He'd guide her along with his fingers wrapped around her hair as she teased him.

He stroked himself with his eyes closed, panting softly and whispering some of his own poetry, and he wasn't even surprised when he came all over his flat abs. When he adjusted his glasses with his clean hand, he thought he'd much prefer to see Anna in his bed with him.

--------------------------

Anna was starved for conversation with another human being by the time Monday morning arrived. Forcing herself to be a recluse as a means to distract herself from her plethora of issues was clearly not the answer. Not when she'd actually managed to make some friends in San Diego. She arrived on campus early and stopped in the lounge for a donut only to find nobody else from her department was really around. Then when she gave her first lecture, half of her students looked like they were still asleep. She tucked her new bookmark of sorts into Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and counted down the hours until she could meet her friends for lunch.

Jessica seemed none the wiser about her upcoming surprise party, but that was the whole point of the thing. Anna started bracing herself to spend some more time around Bob, hoping her kiss was so forgettable that he'd already moved on. Honestly, that was a pretty good possibility. She hadn't really considered that before, but it made a lot of sense. She was boring. After another day or two, he'd have probably forgotten all about it.

This helped Anna push herself through the week. On Wednesday, she took the bus home to change, and she knew she'd never make it to Chippy's on time in her sundress and denim jacket unless she took an Uber to the bar. So she gritted her teeth and paid for the ride, wishing for so many reasons that she hadn't kissed Bob so that she could have asked him to pick her up. But when she got to Chippy's, Bob wasn't even there. And Anna was met with a different issue in the form of a very attractive man with dark hair and dark eyes.

She felt his gaze on her as soon as she arrived, surprised he was looking at her of all people. But in her rush to get to Chippy's on time, all she really got to do was say hi to Jake and Bradley before they got her into position for the surprise. It looked like the bar had been reserved just for Jessica tonight, and that made Anna inexplicably happy and sad at the same time. Even that old bartender looked excited to celebrate. Even Dr. Rosenthal showed up. 

Then Bob rushed in wearing jeans, a snug fitting tee shirt and a worried expression. His hair looked damp, and he was straightening out his glasses as he glanced around and asked, "Did I make it in time?" Anna felt like someone knocked the wind out of her as he got closer.

"Barely," Bradley replied, checking his watch. "Sugar and Jess should be here any minute. Where the fuck were you?"

Bob's cheeks turned a little pink as he muttered, "I had to help Suzanne with her car. She had a flat tire. And then she insisted I come inside for a few minutes so she could thank me properly. I lost track of time."

Anna crossed her arms and pressed her lips together as Bob came to stand right next to her. When he softly said hello, she just nodded and tried to give him a smile, but she was too overwhelmed with too many different feelings. He smelled like soap, and she knew his body was warm without him even touching her. She didn't know who Suzanne was, but she was automatically a little jealous, which was ridiculous. But now she felt like that kiss last week was as forgettable as she both hoped and feared. 

Anna wanted to cry, but even her tears had to take a backseat at the moment as the door to Chippy's opened up and both of her friends walked inside. "Happy birthday!" everyone shouted, and Anna tried her best to look enthusiastic for the occasion. 

"No!" Jessica called out, shoving at the other woman's arm as she realized it was her birthday party. "You're sneaky! You lied to me about getting just one birthday beer!" Then she rushed forward in her adorable suit and high heels, heading straight for Jake's arms. But the second person she reached out to hug was Anna.

"Happy birthday, Advanced Physics," she said with a stifled laugh.

"I'm so happy you're here," Jessica gushed, and Anna felt a lot better as she returned the hug.

But all too soon, she was left on her own. At least all of the tables were covered in dishes of peanuts. Jake was paying for Sam Adams for everyone, but Anna knew she shouldn't drink. Not again. Not after she got tipsy with Bob. 

She could still feel those dark eyes on her as she broke open a peanut and enjoyed the perfectly salty taste. Who was that guy? His arms were wrapped around Jessica's waist, and Jake looked like he was about to go through the roof as his girlfriend laughed. Then he made his way over to Bradshaw's wife and gave her the same treatment. But Bradley looked completely unfazed when she kissed the other man on the cheek and smiled. They whispered something back and forth, and he met Anna's eyes with a wink. She quickly looked away, hoping to avoid a conversation. Bob was sipping a beer and smashing open his own peanuts, and she knew if she couldn't be with him, she didn't want to be with anyone else either. 

Too late. "Hi, are you Anna?" came an unfamiliar voice followed by the spicy scent of too much cologne.

"I am," she answered, looking down at the extended hand of this handsome stranger. "Are you a friend of Jessica's?"

He laughed as their hands met. "Sure," he replied smoothly. "But it's really Bradshaw and I that go way back. I'm Dev. Dev Borah."

"Oh," she said, still shaking his hand and trying to make sense of things. Why was she so awkward? She finally released him and said, "It's... nice to meet you. Um, how do you know Bradley?"

"Virginia. Undergrad. I graduated with the two of them, actually. Nearly died of shock last year when I heard they were both out in San Diego and getting married. Can I get you a drink, Beautiful? Something other than Sam Adams?"

"Oh," Anna gasped as she looked up at him in surprise. "Um... I don't really drink much."

Dev moaned and gripped at his chest dramatically. "You're killing me. I own a brewery!"

Anna could barely tell one type of beer from another, but she wasn't about to tell him that. And quite honestly, talking about making beer sounded interesting enough; she loved learning about new things. But he just called her beautiful. She was flustered and too hot, and then she saw Bob standing off to the side with Mickey, and his expression was one of great displeasure. 

"A brewery?" she asked, trying to force her attention back to Dev.

"Beta Brewing," he said proudly. "We're currently working on a two million dollar expansion project. It's kind of a construction zone, but if you ever want to come up to sample the goods, I'd love to have you."

Anna's eyes went wide. That sounded like an innuendo, but Dev's face was calm as he sipped his pint. Anna figured he must be okay if he was friends with all of these people, but she was never going to go there without the girls. "Maybe if everyone else wanted to go, I could tag along?"

Dev laughed and said, "Bradshaw makes the drive frequently enough. I'm sure we'll see each other again. But just to be sure... I could give you my personal number."

----------------------------

Bob was seething. He'd met Dev Borah exactly one time before, and while he'd had pretty neutral feelings about him prior to tonight, now he hated the sight of him. He'd persuaded Anna to have a beer even though Bob heard her say she didn't really want one, and now he was typing something into Anna's phone. He was giving her his number, just like Bob had done so many weeks ago.

"Stop torturing yourself, man," Mickey said, handing Bob some more peanuts.

"You think she likes him?" Bob asked, voice tight as he grabbed the bowl in his shaky hand.

Mickey shrugged next to him. "What's not to like?"

Bob tossed the bowl onto one of the tables. "You're not helping." He walked away to find someone else, anyone else, to talk to. He should have kissed Anna for as long as he could when he had the chance, because it was all he could think about now. It was all he wanted. She kept looking at him; if she was going to talk to Dev all night and say that kissing Bob was a mistake, then why was she looking at him?

He needed to get out of here and go home, but he knew his friends would be disappointed. Even Suzanne would shake her head. Honestly, he'd be annoyed with himself, too. But his mood was something so unfamiliar, he was ready to force himself to talk to the woman standing next to Anna who he thought was from the science department just so he wouldn't feel like a joke. 

"You know," Bradley said as he slung his arm around Bob's shoulders, "I had no idea Dev liked redheads so much. But then again, he never was too discerning back in the day."

"What do you want, Rooster?" he asked with a grunt.

"I just wanted to make sure you're having fun at Jess's little shindig."

Bob let Bradley slap him obnoxiously on the back as he asked, "Did you invite Dev? Is he going to give Anna a hard time or anything?" His eyes trailed back over to where Dev was still talking her ear off.

Bradley chuckled. "I invited him to get Jake riled up, but I had no idea you'd be collateral damage." He finally released Bob as he said, "And nah, Dev's harmless."

What Bob wouldn't give to have Natasha back. He missed her terribly, and all the guys seemed to be better behaved when she was around. But she'd take one look at Anna and probably embarrass him in front of her even more.

"I think I'm actually going to head home," came Anna's voice filtering over to Bob as she finally cut Dev off. "It was nice to meet you."

"Let me drive you," he replied immediately, and Bob could already picture him getting Anna settled into his Mercedes-Benz, his fingers grazing her bare thigh.

"No, that's okay," she told Dev as she backed away from him. "I'm just going to say goodbye to Jessica, and then I'll get an Uber."

She made her escape to the table next to where Bob stood, and Jessica gave her a big hug. "Happy birthday," Anna told her once again, followed softly by, "I'm glad we're friends."

Jessica squealed and hugged her tighter. "Me too."

"I'm going to call an Uber and head out," Anna was saying, but Jessica was already looking around. 

"No way. It's dark out, and someone here can drive you home. Hey, Bob? Can you drive Anna home?"

He knew he was going to say yes even though part of him didn't want to. And there was another part of him that assumed she'd just say Dev offered to take her. But when Anna looked up at him, he nodded and immediately said, "Of course."

To his surprise, Anna looked a little relieved as she took a step closer. "Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked him with a little wince.

"Not one bit. I was planning on heading home, and it's on the way."

Bob accepted a sloppy kiss on the cheek from Jessica who was well on her way to being drunk. Then he dug his keys from his pocket and nodded toward the door. Anna followed closely next to him, but unlike the last time they were at Chippy's, he didn't touch her. When Bob held the door open, he looked back over his shoulder at Dev who raised his pint glass with a smile of defeat, but he didn't really care about anyone except Anna.

"Thanks," she muttered, walking out into the cool, night air.

"Did you have a good time?" Bob asked, putting a little more space between them as he pointed up the block toward his truck.

Anna laughed, but the sound was tight and forced. "It was okay. I think Jessica was having fun, which is the most important thing, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing his key in his hand as all of the images of their kisses returned. Everything he thought about when he wrote new poetry and touched himself to completion. He swallowed hard; even being around Anna was a lot for his senses. He couldn't blame Dev for trying, but their interactions made him jealous. "Did you get Dev's number?"

Anna stumbled a bit on the sidewalk as she looked up at him, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. "I didn't ask for it. He just kind of gave it to me," she said softly. "He invited me up to his brewery to try some beers. When I told him I'm not much of a beer drinker, he said he'd really enjoy teaching me about the process."

"I'm sure he would," Bob muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

When he reached his truck, he wrenched the passenger door open for Anna, and she glowed softly in the dim, orange interior lighting. "He's a bit much," she said, looking up at him.

Bob nodded once, but she didn't make a move to climb in. "I don't know him very well, but I know he likes to hear himself talk." When she still didn't move, Bob asked, "Are you going to call him? Give him the opportunity?"

"I already told you..." she said firmly. "I can't be in a relationship right now, so I wouldn't want to encourage Dev. And I'm really, really sorry about last week, Bob." She fidgeted with her hands and added, "But if I were in a place where I wanted to start something, I wouldn't pick him."

"Really?" Bob asked as his heart pounded. The most depraved part of him wanted to hear her say she liked him more than Dev. More than anyone.

"Really," she whispered, placing her hand on the seat. "I like old trucks better than fancy sports cars."

That was enough confirmation for Bob. His skin was tingling with anticipation he knew he couldn't quench, but he didn't mind as much now as he did ten minutes ago. "Yeah... you could do way better than a multi millionaire anyway."

Anna's laughter in response was so genuine, Bob laughed, too. The drive to her place was quiet but not as strained as he was afraid it would be, and when he was about a block away, she took her phone out and started messing around with it. "Thanks, Bob," she said as he pulled up to the curb.

He cleared his throat. "You know how you told me you didn't think I should use the dating app? Because I didn't need it?"

"Yeah?" she asked, reaching for the door handle but looking at him. 

He squeezed the steering wheel tight in both hands and said, "Well, I don't think you need Dev's phone number." He watched her jump down and turn to glance his way, and then she smiled.

"I already deleted it. Thanks again for the ride. Maybe I'll see you this weekend?"

He nodded once before she closed the door. As she walked inside, he said, "I hope so."

----------------------------

Oh. Oh, okay. She prefers you, Bob! Now get ready for action. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls. And thanks @attapullman for all the underwear discussions.

PART 7

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[i23kazu]

♡ TO BE LOVED BY

characters. albedo zhongli diluc alhaitham x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff + hurt/comfort. 1.6k words. an. part 1 , part 2 coming soon!!!! | to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. ; reader is insecure + has low self esteem, and the men help them think otherwise. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

the painter

to be loved by albedo, the painter — people realise that the faces that he paints every day seem to resemble one person and one person alone. the high cheekbones, the crooked smile, the monolids — its either the artist has a case of the same face syndrome, or there is only one source of inspiration for him . . .

albedo sits by his artistry room, the window tinting golden light that shines onto your features. it highlights parts of you that you dislike, you argue, but he tenderly kisses each spot that brings you distaste. if you cannot love yourself, then let him love you extra. if you cannot see yourself the way he looks at you – with all the love and admiration and sweet infatuation in the world – then let him paint you in the way he so lovingly sees you so.

he motions for you to tilt to your left with a flick of his finger, not looking up from the blended paints on his wooden palette. you freeze – you don’t want to make him unhappy by not complying but complying also means seeing the ugliness of you. you don’t want him to see you ugly.

“i don’t like that side of me,” you whisper blankly. “it doesn’t make me look good.”

it is at these few words that albedo looks up from his painting.

“you are beautiful.”

he says the three words so matter-of-factly that you wonder if he even means it at all. they are so quick to fall out of his mouth – does he love you too little to properly regard them so, or does he love you so much that it requires no hesitation on his end to reassure you?

“albedo, thank you, but i am not-”

“you are so beautiful, my love,” albedo repeats. “and it pains me so because you don’t seem to believe it for yourself.”

“i am not-” you blink back salty tears.

“do my words hold no weight to you?” he asks, not unkindly. there’s an awkward stare that the both of you share before he lets a soft sigh part his lips, and he gathers you in his arms.

you look at him tiredly. this was not the battle you wanted to fight today, you think to yourself.

“i am beautiful.” you repeat after him. maybe, just maybe – if you say it enough, you can believe it just as wholeheartedly as albedo believes so. you can see the corners of his lips turn upwards into a soft smile – your lover smooths back your hair, planting a sweet kiss in the middle of your forehead.

“i love you, my muse. it’s alright if you don’t believe it just yet. you’ll have me to remind you that you are beautiful, every day.”

the poet

to be loved by zhongli, the poet — the words he spins materialises out of his infatuation for you. at first glance, the words seem so bombastic – so huge, so big, that they don’t make any sense. but they are beautiful; his words are so sweet and lovely, endless love poems addressed to the one person he has fallen harder and harder for every single day. you.

“are you sure that’s a real word?” you laugh lightly, peering over his shoulder to glance at the newest word on his yellowed paper. eudaimonia, you read curiously.

“my dear, i would assume so,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i believe it means for a person to be of a flourishing, happy state. the thesaurus that tartaglia had obtained for me says so, but if you think otherwise, we can most certainly track down the author to contest that.”

“i trust the author.” you giggle.

“as do i.” zhongli presses a kiss to your forehead, and turns back to his pen.

you watch as he strings together sentences – sentences so lovely, you could never have ever imagined them to be about you. he describes the slight smile on your face when you reread one of your favourite books, or the fact that your laugh has two sounds – one like the tinkling of wind chimes, the other a boisterous, unbridled roar. his pen greets the paper once again, and you hear the gentle scratching of the tip against the sheet.

you are the reason i am able to rest at home with eudaimonia – my pillar, my rock, my lifeline.

“that’s beautiful. your writing is lovely as always.” you whisper, wrapping your arms tenderly around him from behind. he leans into the warmth of your touch, sweetly, lovingly, falling into your embrace.

“well, my dear – it would only make sense for my words to reflect the most pleasing of things to me.”

the photographer

to be loved by diluc, the photographer — you are his model, day and night. he carries his camera when he can, and needless to say . . . more than three quarters of his camera roll is filled with pictures of you. they’re not perfect pictures, but they’re beautiful to him. and that is the only thing he cares about.

”diluc, don’t! i don’t look nice here.” you giggle as he, in a rare bout of unbridled playfulness, pretends to be your personal paparazzi.

“you look good in every photo, my love.” he chuckles, and runs you through the most recent photos he took.

it’s blurry. your cheeks look huge. your chin… “you look good” – was diluc blind, or lying?

you tighten your smile and turn back to your work, waving away thoughts that turn into jealous green monsters over others who would look good in his camera, no matter how imperfect their pose was.

“hey,” diluc sees the frown on your face. “i mean it. you look wonderful.”

“how?” you blink back frustrated tears.

“diluc, open your eyes. my eyes are uneven in this one. my cheeks look like a chipmunk’s. my chin.. i don’t even want to think about my chin. i don’t look good at all, diluc.”

he stays quiet for a moment, and you wonder if that was the right thing to say at all. maybe just keep quiet next time, (y/n). don’t insult his work – your insecurities are yours to hold alone, right? he tucks your hair away from your eyes and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“i urge you – look again, (y/n).”

“you didn’t edit anything, diluc.”

diluc thumbs away a stray tear as he cups your face – a betrayal to your plea to your body to keep quiet. just keep quiet, (y/n). your lover takes your shoulders and sits you down gently, kneeling next to you, camera in hand.

“you don’t look good, you say? interesting.” diluc has a placid smile on his face as he runs through his camera roll again – you are afraid of angering him, of doubting his craft – but how can you see those pictures and be immediately satisfied with what they are?

“why don’t you believe me? i’m the one who sees it.” you reply indignantly.

“i don’t believe so, not at all. you see it, but i see that you are smiling in each and every one of them, my love. you are happy and you are beautiful, my sun. undoubtedly so – for that is what the camera captures. is that not what matters the most?”

the writer

to be loved by alhaitham, the writer — people often wonder who sparks these passionate feelings of infatuation in his writing; all they need to look at is the person he leaves his gaze to linger on for a little while longer. his smile seems to brighten a little when he’s talking with you . . .

he describes a love scene so tenderly. a man and his partner, dancing in the stillness of a living room in the witching hours of the night – sweet, loving words fall clumsily out of the man’s mouth – it’s obvious he’s infatuated with his partner. two words, my angel, stands out in the manuscript you read.

“hayi, why do you never call me your angel? ever?” you ask, a slight pout on your face.

“because you are not a metaphor for me to use,” he counters, not unkindly. “you are not someone who i want to compare a mere object to.”

you see the slight disappointment in his face, and you hate yourself for it.

“maybe being compared to something would be better.” you reply softly.

“you are so much more than that,” he cradles your face in his palm, so gently it hurts.

you don’t deserve this gentleness, do you?

“who am i to take that away from you?”

the silence that follows seems louder than anything else you have ever heard. he sighs softly, not with frustration, but with a tenderness that only alhaitham can muster. he gathers you in his arms – he is so, so much bigger and taller than you – he never wants to crush you. never with his anger, nor his fear, or his hurt or his sadness.

“i’m sorry for always asking that. i don’t want to be annoying.” you murmur, blinking away tears.

“you will never be annoying to me, (y/n).” he exhales.

another quiet moment is shared between the two of you – it’s healing. the silence seems to nod to a shared understanding of a love that need not be said.

“i love you, (y/n), most magnificently so. and if it would take a lifetime for you to remember that, i would like to ask for a chance to spend that lifetime with you,” he whispers these words with a quiet fierceness, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @camvrin @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz @rin-nyrasti-writes @mxyarylla @starchivves (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

just for this post: @dailypenpen

reblogs w/ tags & comments are highly appreciated !!! <3 every reblog with a tag or comment gets a cookie from me hehe

[lxvebun]

flurry of colours

synopsis: asking the genshin boyfriends what color they see you as

content: Alhaitham/Kazuha/Wriothesley x gender neutral reader. Fluff! Use of nickname darling/dove. Wrio is pretty short I wasn't entirely sure how to write him😭. English is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡

D*rk content blogs do not interact (*a)

Alhaitham

"It's not your problem if Kaveh's struggling with his color schemes, darling" he replies quickly, not even bothering to look up from the page in his book.

"Archons, Haitham, it's not like that. Just look at me and imagine what color I radiate :)

he sighs a little, closing the book but keeping his fingers between the pages. Even if he thinks it's a bit of a silly question, he does take a moment to let his eyes trace over you, shamelessly letting them linger on your lips too. for a second you think he's actually going to answer your question but then you see him failing to suppress a smirk and his gaze meets yours with an expression you can only describe as Are you serious?

"Humor me Alhaitham"

Alright, let me think.. he completely closes his book this time, placing it in front of him on his desk and rests his head on his hand

"Colors can actually invoke a lot of thoughts and impressions. Most people associate red with warmth, and passion, but also with danger or fear depending on the context. A lot of people view black as a masking color be it clothes to hide certain parts of yourself or the shadows in your nightmares, but you can also see it as a protective color as it doesn't reflect. Blue is usually related to the sea, the lighter tones with sunny mornings walking along the shore, darker tones of blue can relate to the deep cold unknown depth that's hidden from prying eyes......if I had to describe you a color..it would be green. Not necessarily because of the associations with it, wisdom, calmness, and hope. which do apply to you don't get me wrong, but green is my favorite color, and you're my favorite person. Simple as that. Now, care to read with me for a bit?

*he's so annoying but he does it so well. Bites him*

Kazuha and wrio under the cut♡

Kazuha

kazuha has been a bit gloomy as of lately. His usual flowery words have lost their petals, His leatherbound notebook has not made an appearance in a while, neither have the little poems he writes for you to wake up to, and his fingers are clean, not covered with his usual, and at this point, you believed to be permanent, ink stains. It's clear he's been going through the infamous writers block. something that most artist go through and also get out of but it's nonetheless an infuriating part of being an creative individual. But since Kazuha has made you his muse as he told you many many times before, who are you to not try and help inspire your lovely boyfriend.

It takes you a while of bringing him to random locations for sunset walks or stargazing and asking him random questions until one finally hits the spot. His eyes immediately lighting up as he turns to you with such a warm expression of love and adoration you're pretty sure your heart skipped a beat

"That's a very beautiful question, dove"

He takes a moment to think about it, eyes lovingly tracing over every little detail of you, the backlight of the sun, the glimmer of the waves shining in your eyes

"I don't think describing you as one color does you justice. You shift hues as softly and gently as the day shifts into night, and the sun makes place for the moon in the sky. But if I do have to say just one, I see hints of purple in you, but that could also be because the color reminds me of my hometown and everytime I look at you, my soul feels at home" He answers with a new found excitement in his voice

"Actually, maybe I can use this for a poem-"

*i'm projecting can you tell?*

Wriothesley

You often come down into the fortress to spend some time with him on his break. With both of you living on different levels of Fontaine, you'll take any chance you can get to be around him and even when it's not officially his break time, he could never say no to you....or tea time

That's why you're here now sitting on the edge of his desk as he hastily discared the paperwork to make room for the teapot and biscuits. As quickly as the tea flows, the conversation passes from deep and meaningful, romantic ones, to terrible jokes and banter as both of you just talk about whatever comes to mind.

So he doesn't raise an eyebrow when you ask him what colors remind him of you. it's quite endearing how he just goes along with whatever silly questions or requests you throw at him without making you feel embarrassed about it

"Probably between a pearlescent white and a warm honey yellow."

"Interesting answer...why?"

"the colours remind me of the sun and the moon, and living at the bottom of the ocean here in the fortress we don't have either of those of course. You're the closest thing I have to feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin or experiencing calm atmosphere of the moonlight. And to be honest I prefer you over the real thing♡"

Hes so cute *cries*

Thank you for reading angels!♡

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my her ex I read her poetry?

I (F19) dated my ex (F18, Lacy) for about 9 months. I broke up with her because she had a lot of issues I just didn't know how to deal with and I also fell in love with my best friend (NB19, Alex, he/his pronouns), so I decided it was the best course of action. I broke up with Lacy on January of 2023 and started dating Alex in February.

Around this time, I found an Instagram account that posted poetry. There was nothing that could identify the author, but the poetry was really good so I started to follow them. With time, however, the poems started to look... familiar. Not the writing style, but some situations on them, for example: one of them said something like "your brother's night sky truck that took us to the stars" (my older brother has a dark blue truck he would lend me so I could take Lacy on dates) and another said "that old guitar you had that you never learned to play like you played me" (I have an old guitar I inherited from my father and I indeed never learned how to play it). These are only two examples, but I found many others that convinced me that account belonged to Lacy.

I know I should have left it alone the second I realized the account belonged to her, but it was so flattering to see she wrote all of that about me. I didn't tell anyone, not my friends or Alex, but I kept following the account and reading Lacy's poetry. I think my feelings for her started to rekindle after that, because no one ever wrote about me like that and, as months passed, she kept writing about me. She never got over me.

My relationship with Alex also started to have problems during this time. He got a job at an ice cream parlour and he started a D&D campain with his friends, which means we started to spend less and less time together. He didn't seem to be as interested in me as he was during our first months of relationship, and I feel like he's taking me for granted. Lately, more specifically since December, we started to fight a lot over small things too.

We went to a New Year's party one of our friends was hosting and Lacy was there too. That enough was reason for Alex to start complaining, since he has a lot of feelings of jealousy regarding her. We ended up having a fight because he thought I knew she'd be there, which I didn't, and he went to stay with our friends, avoiding me the whole night.

It was New Year's eve and I had just fought with my partner, who was monopolizing all of our friends and leaving me by myself, so I started to drink. I know that wasn't a good idea, but I was angry and frustrated and I thought that would help. It didn't, I just got super drunk.

Since my filter disappears when I'm drunk, I went after Lacy and told her her poetry was really good. At first she was confused, so I said I found her poetry account and her poems were amazing, and I was flattered she still thought about me like that, because I didn't think anyone else ever saw me in such a beautiful way.

After that, the panic in her eyes became clear. She started to cry, not full on sobbing but some tears rolled down her face and she didn't answer me, just left. Alex saw the interaction and came to ask me what happened. I ended up telling him about Lacy's poetry account, we fought again and I decided to go home. In that same night, I searched for the poetry account and it was deleted.

This whole situation didn't leave my head since it happened and I don't know what to think. Alex has also been avoiding me and I don't understand why everyone seems to be against me. Lacy blocked me everywhere and I'm beginning to think leaving her for Alex was a huge mistake. It was also never my intention to make Lacy feel like she had to delete her account.

AITA for telling her I knew about the poetry account?

What are these acronyms?

[plscallmeeren]

H E A D C A N O N S

Loki Laufeyson / Odinson x Reader

Request: no just feeling in love

Summary: completely mixed batch of romantic headcanons including fluff, smut and some toxic things that would probably come into play at some point

Warnings: some general sexual stuff but nothing rough lol; mentions of extreme jealousy etc

Word Count: about 1K

He loves recommending books to you and talking about them afterward. It used to be him accidentally gushing about a book (usually poetry or fairy tales) and at some point you just started reading them without him knowing. Eventually he gave up on keeping the titles secret.

At first he was put off when you weren't too submissive during sex, but he adopted the "treat her like a Queen" idea and now, without diminishing his own pride, he looks forward to worshipping you every day.

He loves dancing - spinning you around the room, slow steps, but very close - anything. If you are in a room filled with of people he can show you off, but alone it is just as intimate.

When he's insecure, he can revert to considering himself superior. You generally let him be aloof for a while before addressing the problem directly, but it's a struggle every time to make him admit why he has low self esteem.

He has a treasured copy of Nordic fairy tales with beautiful illustrations that he shows only you. He lets you tenderly flip the pages, in awe at wonders like forest fairies, nymphs, glamorous witches and hags alike. Not like Thor, that 'oaf'.

One night, you sat on the edge of the your shared bed, legs bare, teasing him for how desperately he wanted you. He knelt before you, whispering "please", kissing his way up from your ankle to your thigh on one leg.

Loki hates it when she is a woman and is handles awkwardly at first. You have a habit of immediately talking to her or circling an arm around her waist when she enters the room so that she can't worry to the point of turning back into a male body.

He loved hearing his name from your lips as he pleasures you: "Loki, Loki, Loki". It is only right for a god to be subject to whispered prayer.

He makes fun of/critiques Thor a lot, but in quieter moments he loves telling childhood stories and Thor's adventures. On darker days he will ask whether you're sure you wouldn't prefer Thor - after all, everyone else did.

He lives to kiss you. It sounds dopey, but anywhere, anytime, in front of everyone - kissing you on the lips, on your neck, hair, chest, arms, especially hands. Anything to taste you, to feel as close as possible.

She feels particularly sound in her own body when you fuck her as a woman. When she's spread out before you, bare, there's no hiding who she is, and you are more than happy to ravage her as much as their common body.

Loki doesn't need much sleep. At night, he sometimes feels lonely and yearns for the halls of Asgard. He cries quietly in bed, careful not to wake you. Some days, he retreats to the library and sobs, cries absorbed by surrounding stories.

Tea. Tea. Tea. Always. And every time he makes a cup for himself, you get one, too. He knows your favourites and which ones you like at what time of day.

He writes you letters. Love letters full of poems - some of his own hand and others quoted - and confessions. Every swooping letter is drawn with careful precision, every reference a new find from the library in honour of you. Such a hopeless romantic. When you write such letters back, leaving them with him before he wakes, he almost sheds tears of bliss.

If you have tattoos or scars or burns - anything of the like - he will trace them, stare at them as he comes, turned on endlessly by every unique mark on your body. All his. No one else knows every freckle like him.

He is possessive. He always has been, and as much as you try and calm him and prevent jealousy... sometimes he yells at you for talking to someone else too much. Sometimes he whispers that you have betrayed him like his father. Sometimes you find him searching through your things; what for, you will never know.

Loki loves your laugh, and he will do the most ridiculous things to earn it. Before knowing you, he would have considered every antic and joke beneath him and embarrassing, but he hardly cares anymore. That is, until Thor laughs so loud from beside you that he can't hear anything at all.

Stargazing. He points out every constellation, knows every myth - some are inspired by people he knows.

He reads to you. He takes you on surprise picnics and plans fancy evenings.

He loved how you see through his lies and tall tales, but take him seriously or laugh anyway. Every one of them has a grain of truth, after all, and it doesn't make him untrustworthy.

He doesn't really swear, but secretly likes it when you sound harsh talking to others.

Loki will talk about your future all the time, especially after making love, rambling on about your house, lifestyle, garden, parties.

You talk for hours at once, incorrigible.

No one can calm him down like you. The moment you touch his arm when he's yelling at Thor or anyone else, it ceases, but he sometimes pretends to be angry a bit longer, just enough to get to your room and keep his pride in front of the others.

Loki loves you. Selflessly. Eternally. Insatiably.

[slickchickchocolatier]

H I S M A R K : H E E D A M

WARNINGS: FLUFF, SMUT (UNPROTECTED), ORAL (MALE REC.), REFERENCE TO NONCON SMUT, MENTIONS OF FORCED BREEDING, SEX SLAVERY (HISTORICAL), DUBCON, MYTHOLOGY, ANCIENT HISTORY, SYMBOLISM, MARKINGS, YANDERE LOVE, OBSESSION, POSSESSIVE, FANTASY, MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, PARANOIA, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, FORCED LOVE, ISOLATION, AND CURSING. NOT PROOREAD (YET).

THIS TAKES PLACE SHORTLY AFTER ‘CHILD OF THE SEA’ DRABBLE. ALL PART IF THE MERMAIDS TALE SERIES ON MASTERLIST.

This Drabble had me feeling something that is surreal I swear. Probably my favorite Drabble yet.

THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL. THIS IS NOT REAL.

For days, weeks, and months, you’ve questioned your sanity. It was the same routine; waking up in an unknown territory, wondering if you’ll ever get to experience freedom again. You’ve tried to calm yourself, but a factor prohibits you from gaining rest. It has been so long since you were able to roam the streets on your own, to visit the bakery that you loved so much, and to sip coffee while viewing the window of your high-rise apartment. It wasn’t that you couldn’t do the things you enjoyed in life, you just had to enjoy it…with him.

Over a year, this man had broken you down, restricted you of using your own senses, and prohibited in exercising your own way of thinking. No. Everything was about him. He made it that way to reflect his own spirit, since for him, everything was about you. You were all he sees, eats, hear, and breathes. It caused his insanity in which formed that insatiable love for you. He wanted you to rely on him, to think of only him, and to love him the way he does you. It’s…sickening. The worst part…was that you were actually starting to succumb to your weak heart.

The other day he made a great effort to impregnate you…the image plagues your mind, no matter what you’re looking at. You’ve tried to erase it completely, yet the view of his exposed throat, his thick neck in full display as he shoves and rests his length deep inside your womb, pumping out each string of release. His hands gripped your hips, slowly sliding up to your waist while he rests in between your legs, and his head remained flung back. His poignant Adams Apple bobs up and down delicately as he restlessly murmurs…’Uh-Uh-huh.”

He tells you that you should be grateful. For the rumors of his ancestors and their harsh breeding methods with Sirens were merely just to produce sons. At least with him, he did it out of love and passion. He tells you of how the sirens would eventually weakened to the desires of an Adams touch, and eventually grew to love their captors…which he predicted would become the end result for you.

‘It’s only a matter of time’ he says.

If only what he said wouldn’t hold any truth, yet as each passing day rotates in and out, you’re slowly coming to realize that he spoke the truth. It may not be out of your own willingness to return that love, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was the end goal, despite it being a result of Stockholm Syndrome. Regardless of his abusive method in claiming you, that love he displayed…it was getting to you.

‘It’s only a matter of time, baby. You will love me…you will, Siren.’

Sirens…a creature only read in mythology books, or poems and mentioning’s by philosophers. Who could ever believe that there was more truth to their existence?

A Siren cannot feel the physical touch, sensation, or feeling of anything. Not even pain at a high scale. Should anyone cut off your limb, or carve out an eye, you wouldn’t feel it. You wouldn’t scream. You wouldn’t even shed a single tear. No matter how many injuries your body would display, you’ll never feel the blister of the injury….unless it was done by an Adam.

The only person that can make you feel things. He knew that…he knew that too well. From the moment he sensed your expression and witnessed it at the party, he knew that something was amiss. He could feel it.

The Clan of Adam is what they are called, singularly referred to as ‘Adam’s’ named after the first man. The bloodline stemmed from the sons sired by Alexander the Great, that much you both knew. At least up until the moment he found the memento remnants of his late grandfather…who met a tortuous end by his grandsons hand.

“Huh…look what I found baby.” He holds the large book in both hands. It was ancient, laced by a gold chained binding, with thin wooden slats, polished to perfection with the inscription carved in the finest font. Elegant and edged with Hellenic images, charts, and astronomical symbols, you could tell that the contents contained knowledge that was unreal…stuff people read out of a fairy tale.

He pulls you back by tenderly holding your waist, sitting you on his lap as he sets the book before you. Resting it on your thighs, he passionately roams his palms up and down your ribcage, taking deep inhales as he whiffs in your scent, burying his nose at the back of your neck. “Mmm, fuck I love you.”

Your eyes begin to form tears…again. Yet each time you calmly sobbed, they became less and less watery. The feeling of touch, while initially had disgusted you, has now become the very thing you embraced. It was something you craved…and only he could give it to you.

“Read it baby.” He sighs out as he takes in another whiff. His hands lower their grip to your hips; his thumbs pressing in right above your derrière, beside your tailbone.

You arch your back as you winced your eyes. Your mind kept telling you to be strong and resist…but your heart told you the opposite. He pulls you in, smoothing your rear to grind and settle right on his bulge. “You’re sooooooo perfect…perfect for me.” He drags a deep tone as he flings his head back, lightly bucking his hips upwards. The sensation formed a familiar knot, a tightness that expanded until it snaps, releasing the flow of intense orgasm and pleasure. “P-please…please don’t—“

You gently spoke your words, moaning them out as you plead. You wanted it and didn’t want it. He reached up and around, turning your head to the side to face him, eloping you in a beautifully tender kiss. He grinds, and you move. He bucks, and you press in. Your bodies became a perfectly tuned rhythm of pleasure…and love.

“H-Heeseung…” you moan in between the small pecks. He lightly groans into your mouth, admitting a long and harsh lick up from your bottom lip to the top. “Aw fuck…yeah baby? You like that?” He doesn’t give you room to answer before re-sealing your mouth into a rather messier kiss. The twisting and twirling of tongue and the stroking of canines has completely melted you, and he could feel it on his crotch.

His hands migrate up and around, unionizing on your tummy. They slowly mesh downward and apply pressure as they rub on the flat canvas above your clit. It didn’t take long for him to find his way under your dress, his hands were so gifted in knowing the in and outs of feminine-styled seams. He hooks your panties and shove them to the side, and God..the way he could move his hands alone was enough to get you heated and moist. So wet.

Not once did he release your mouth. The flaring of your nostrils indicates the struggle for breath, yet the latching proved that it was all worth the struggle. Your lips quiver as your thighs shake; his fingers gently rubbing small circles right at the tip, surfacing a toil of piercing desire that raged within you like the fires of Hell. You moan some more in his mouth, hating how you were loving the way he explored inside you. That damn tongue of his…he was so experienced, being a former playboy, but now a committed husband who only had eyes, a heart, and soul, just for you.

“Oh Heeseung…mmmm! Oh please-“

“Fuck yeah baby. Never felt someone as good as you.”

His heart pelted against his chest, you could feel it underneath in between your shoulder blades as yours felt as if it would explode from within. He played around with your womanhood until he firmly gripped your waist, thumbs pressing against your back as his fingers dig into your torso. He lifts you just a tad, before slamming you down against his clothed groin. He continues to buck up while bouncing you in a momentum that was out of this world. You gasped out a series of yelps, all in sync with his motions. “Pl-please!!! Please..!”

“Please what? WHAT?” He whispers as he buries his nose and lips into your ear. “Fucking tell me what you want. Let me hear it.”

You reach up and gently palm the back of his neck, struggling to move smoothly as the quaking aches of pleasure and desire took over your body. “Ugh…please…please give it to me…”

You can’t believe you just said that…

He smirks. “Oh yeah baby…don’t worry, I’m going to.” He reaches beneath you to unzip his trousers when a sudden knock causes you both to pause.

His growl told you of anger and frustration as he bites down and grits a groan. His hands emerge up and grip your waist, slightly shifting you forward.

You whine out, begging for him to keep going. You cup his chin as you continued to melt against his chest, grabbing onto his free hand and resting it on your pelvis. “Please…please…Heeseung.”

What he wouldn’t give to satisfy you right now. Times like this, he truly sympathizes for you, and wanted nothing more than to give you everything you asked for. He gently takes your hand in his, causing you ti release his chin as he places a kiss on your forehead. “Shhh…I know baby. I know.”

He would have dismissed the person outside the door, instead, he mentally kicks himself in the ass. He was the one who summoned the curator to help translate the book after all.

“Hello, Mr. Lee. My name is Johnathan, I am the curator from the national library, we spoke on the phone. You stated you needed some assistance in translating some family artifacts?”

The young man was polite and well mannered, not at all losing composure, even after seeing you sitting on your husband’s lap, legs widespread. At least Heeseung reinstated the hem of your dress, layering it over the exposed parts. Maybe Johnathan was not at all familiar with the image of sexual desire, but it would otherwise seem quite obvious.

“I am sorry I’m late.” He states as he sets his briefcase on his lap, flipping the gold latches up.

“Not as sorry as I am right now…” Heeseung mutters against your ear, wincing as you admitted small and subtle waving motions at the hip, grinding against his groin. The pulse of desire hasn’t worn off inside you.

“What was that Sir?” Johnathan peeks up with a look of curiosity.

“N-nothing. What can you tell us about this?” Heeseung firmly wraps an arm around your waist as he leans forward, taking the book from your hand and passing it over. You whined as your body shifts forward from the leaned in motion. “Don’t worry…i’m never going to let you fall baby.” He whispers into your ear after taking notice of your hands gripping his thigh, halting the sliding of your rear on his lap. Meanwhile the curator remained completely oblivious as he closely admires the book. “Ah, the literature contains the ancient tongue that the Greeks used early on. It is most notably communicated by philosophers. Perhaps a well known philosopher drafted this.”

Johnathan examines each lettering and symbol, placing a magnifying device to study the engravings.

“Clan of Adam…interesting, I haven’t heard of them. Has your grandfather ever mentioned this clan to you before?” He speaks without lifting his head, keeping his eyes glued to the wooden frame.

“Maybe a couple times in reference to this heirloom.” Heeseung calmly fibs. If there was one thing you both agreed on, it was to keep your ancestries, and the knowledge of, a secret. Excluding the current lesson that was now being taught of course.

“Interesting. It says here that the clan were all male descendants of the first sons…sons of—“

“Alexander.” Heeseung calmly finishes as he pinches his grip, tightening his hold on your waist the moment he spoke out the name.

“Yes that’s correct. Alexander the Great, king of Macedonia.”

The curator continues to look over the slats, rotating the book as he studied the diagram of constellations and Greek symbols. “It says that the first sons of Alexander were hidden away in a monastery, many miles away from their kingdom. They were known as the first of the clan…says here they displayed inhuman abilities.”

Johnathan chuckles. “I see, this seems to be a book that contains speculation of fiction and fantasy. It talks about them battling mermaids—ah, sirens, as they are commonly referred in this book.”

Heeseung’s member twitches at the historical mentioning of your ancestors. You felt the snake-like feature of his size slithering and flickering under your thigh, causing you to gasp.

“This particular page goes into detail about the clans genealogy traits…saying that it derived from their grandfather.”

“Grandfather?” Heeseung raises a brow as he keeps his eye on the curator, yet shifts his mouth to place a kiss against your cheek upon hearing a small whine escape your lips.

“Yes sir…it says here that the late King of Macedonia and his wife, Olympias, was bedded by Zeus. This was recorded in private to a monk residing in the kingdom, and journaled after the king passed. Alexander took over the throne and was exposed to the secret of his origin, by his mother.”

The curator chuckles in disbelief. “Well that would explain why the clan could take down mermaids.” He laughs as he jests, little does he know that everything he had just relayed was whole-heartedly true.

Your eyes widen as he unveiled the truth behind the clans whereabouts. Descendants of Zeus? No wonder they held such tremendous power and combative abilities. They were commonly known as Spartans of the Sea.

Heeseung, being a former SWAT captain, eluded those traits. You’ve witnessed his training sessions he maintained simply for fun. The way he moved, the way he maneuvered in water, and his stamina…it was Godly.

Zeus…Zeus was the true father of Alexander…

“And the sirens were all daughters of —“

“Poseidon…” you calmly interject. Heeseung faintly smirks as he admires your side profile. “Yes ma’am, that’s correct. Have you both read this book?” The curator asks earnestly, subtly surprised by your perfect translation and knowledge of what was inscribed in the book.

“We looked it over prior to your arrival.” Heeseung states.

“Wow…so you both can read Ancient Greek?”

You both stayed silent as Johnathan’s innocent smile slowly fades. A moment of awkwardness fills the room. “Well…anyhow…there was a war between humanity and the sirens, and the godly descendants produced by Zeus engaged, becoming a formidable opponent to the sirens. In fact, it says here that the clan nearly wiped out the entire ocean of them, causing them to go nearly extinct.”

Heeseung taps against your thigh, vaguely whispering for you to stand just for a moment as he thanks the curator for his time.

“I’m sorry to tell you this book hardly exposes factual knowledge regarding your family, however, you’ll be pleased to know that it is a genuine artifact that is priceless. Should you ever care to get an appraisal, please do not hesitate to call us.”

“Without hesitation. Thanks.” Heeseung places the book to the side as he sees the young man out.

You sat by the window.

Descendants of Zeus…and Poseidon…you, and Heeseung.

He cups your cheek, gently forcing you to face him. “That pretty head of yours thinking about the history lesson we just got?” He smirks as he kneels down before you, reaching up as he strokes your hair. “All that talk about Gods and our lineage got me thinking baby…”

You gave an inquiring expression. “About what?” You calmly issue as he pulls you in for a kiss, never divulging an answer. “You’ll see.”

…………….

“Welcome to Brewery’s Coffee, what can I get for you?”

“Tall chocolate cream latte, and a venti Americano.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the name for the order?”

“Heeseung.”

The barista labels the cups. Handing the receipt, she admires the devastatingly handsome stranger as he walks to a table. Something catches her eye as she ogles his neckline. A small mark, looked to be of a tattoo, printed nicely and centered on the back of his neck. It was symbolic in nature, though she had absolutely no idea of what it entailed. “Do you see that?” She whispers to a fellow co-worker. They both admire the mark, when the latter recognized the main structure of the symbol.

“Oh! That’s the symbol for Pisces. The symbol represents commitment, and togetherness for eternity. I’m a Pisces myself, but I don’t know what that small symbol to the right of it is supposed to be.”

Heeseung takes a seat across from you, admiring how you sat patiently while he ordered the drinks. Not like you didn’t really have a choice, although now it seems he did manage to tame the shrew. You found yourself accepting the concept of belonging to him, especially after reading the history of his lineage.

Taking your hand in his, he rubs the back of your palm with his thumb. “You didn’t feel a thing, did you?”

You shook your head. “Me neither.”

Of course he wouldn’t. He’s too damn strong, some needle punctures would hardly faze him. You reach up and delicately smooth the tips over the back of your neck, yet couldn’t even feel your own phalanges as you attempted to search for it. He chuckles before reaching across the table. “Here.”

He takes your fingers and places it on a certain spot behind your neck. “Right there baby.”

You still couldn’t feel anything, other than the brush of his knuckles as he guides you to the matching mark. The sign of Pisces, with the respective symbols of the Gods that fathered both your ancestries. His, with Zeus, and yours with Poseidon.

Combined and side by side, it would form the Union of love…the love that he inherited for you…the love that you were forced to adapt to.

It was entirely his idea, of course. You recalled how he vividly told you of the theory in Zeus transforming Aphrodite and Eros into fish, paired together so that they may escape from the clutches of Typhon, the monstrous being. You laid on your stomach as the artist took his time to delicately outline the unique features of the custom symbolic nature of love and commitment.

After coffee, he brings you back home where he had every sense of focus to finish what was started earlier.

“Come here.” He gently calls to you as he flips two fingers up and flickers them, signaling for you to respond to his calling. His voice was tamed and gentle. So very calm and sensual.

You kneel before him as he took his seat, holding onto your hand. You lean forward in between his manspreading legs, guided by the subtle grip of your chin. He lures you directly to his bulge. “My woman…my life…my everything.”

You knew what he wanted, and you would never admit it aloud, but you wanted it too. The pains of yearning never left, it remained lodged deep inside your womb even after the curator left.

You unzip his trousers. It didn’t take long for him to whip out his cock, waving it in front of your face as if he was teasing you with it. Like quenching thirst, you caught the very tip of it with your parted lips, immediately swallowing as many inches as possible—and there were many. The man was gifted, such was expected as the descendant of a mighty God.

He groans out, holding the base of his shaft for you, while encouraging you to keep going. He collects your strands, and grips it in unison. Holding up your poneytail, there, in full view was the beautiful tattoo…his other half. Resting in the same spot as his, it nearly glows. He watches and maintains sight of it as you continue to bob for his girth.

“Thatta girl…keep going darling…get it while you can, I’m about to conquer you.”

You swipe your head up and down, motioning it with a sensual passion that could only be found in a love like this. One that was filled with so many contradictions, yet hold so much history. And with that history, came progression and transcendence. It was both frustrating and peaceful. Forceful, and yet consensual. It was…it was…

“Fuck! Get over here.”

“H-Heeseung!” You gasped outright as he used his god-like strength and lifts you up. He stands tall and straight, leaving you suspended in air against his chest as he grips your thighs, forcing you to straddle his groin. You hug his neck, embracing it against your breasts as you remain higher up while he cradles your rear, stabilizing his hold. Slowly…slowly, the moment you breached for all day, he finally inserts his stiffed muscle in between your slit. “Oh my God..!” You breathe out as he breaks you, inch by inch. The feeling was so different from the other day. This was different. The painful yearning that pounded your womb from within, sending tingles up your spine, and released a rushing flow of blood through your veins. All you could think about was being touched, being fucked, and being kissed over and over again, and he was the only one who could give it. The key to your release.

“Ah! P-please! Oh god please don’t stop!”

The very second he sat you against the hilt of his pelvic floor, he began thrusting at a phenomenal pace. God, was he perfect. He was so good, you just couldn’t contain yourself as it slipped…

“B-babe! Baby please!”

He pauses for just a second as he smirks against your neck. Did he just hear you call him ‘baby’?

He continues to grin as he slowly pumps up into you.

Realizing just what you had done, you found it useless to make excuses or to continue to fight it. Finally, after all that he’s done to trap and torment you mentally, he finally had you…all of you. You wave the white flag and surrendered. If it wasn’t in the endearing pet name that you sputtered out, it was in the tightening of your embrace as you pulled him close, thighs shaking and your derrière jiggling from the quivering jolts of pleasure…so good, it hurt like Hell.

“Say it again.” He snarls against your skin as he licks the underside of your chin. You shook your head, wincing your eyes as you refused initially, but he had his ways to make you give in.

One, two, three…no, four. Five! God…maybe it was twenty times, or more, he held you firmly and smacks his cock inside. It was brutally pleasing as he thrusts upwards, splattering the juices of his labor—and yours, everywhere. The offensive sound of his cock squeezing, squelching, and sliding in and out as his balls smack against your skin while he went in fast and hard, causing you to scream. Your mind blows away as you absorb his rhythm. “Ah! Fuck! Baby!”

There, he got what he wanted, and did he ever love it. He could hear you call him that, over and over again. And he did.

The undercarriage of your buttocks were painted with white, thick splatters of creamy and sticky fluids. The constant and solid tempo of his thrusts acted as a beater, stirring the semi-clear residue and turning it into a thicker consistency. A product of the love you both shared.

You scream out his name, gasping for air as the soft spot inside you releases, all thanks to the constant punching of his tip, and the pounding of his thick and lengthy cock. You dig your nails into his shoulders, the overstimulation makes you beg for him to tone it down but he doesn’t.

“TAKE IT!!!” He yells out against your skin as he holds and squeezes your cheeks together, creating a bubbling image of skin and muscle as your derrière becomes abused by the harsh grip.

Shooting everything he’s got inside, he holds you steady, burying deep. Pelvis to pelvis, hilt to hilt, you feel the pressure of his grip holding you down against his groin. A few minutes of his cock pulsating, pumping, and pushing, he finally loosens his grip. You slide down, legs still grasping his waist as he embraces your waistline, tumbling back. Bringing you down with him, he lays next to you on the silky bedding.

You both lay, admiring each others glistening skin. The beads of sweat dripping down your foreheads, the heat exhausting from your breaths, and the panting and heaving of your chests.

He pushes the wet strands away from your brow, leaning in and kissing you so passionately, he would have done his deity ancestor proud.

“…I love you.” You mutter out, nearly shamelessly and defeatedly.

He smirks as he gulps down a subtle swallow, already knowing, just waiting for you to say it. “I know.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, instead, you look away as he caresses your cheek, not minding the shyness you were displaying. “I could never be anything in life without you…daughter of the seven seas…you got me all to yourself. I live only for you.”

And with that, concluded this night, but birthed many more. This was only the beginning, what new life exists for you both? Now that you have each other…

And so the war between the Adams and Sirens came to an end, resulting in generations that mirrored the forbidden love between the two descendants. Mixing the bloodlines of Poseidon and Zeus, the clan formatted the ultimate beings, part God and part mortal. Despite the many rumors of the hostility the two parties initially held against each other, let it be known that no matter the history…no matter the bloodshed…by the prime example of sea maidens and sons of Alexander the Great, love conquers all.

@hoonieshoney and @sweeheehees 😏 they not cry or explode. Because I certainly almost did both when imagining heedam….BRO JUST TOPPED THE LIST.

[luimagines]

I dare you to do one with your favorite trope to write (unless you've already done it)

Oh my goodness, this might be longer that usual. XD

And I really had to think about what I wanted to write. I think I'll make this a one-shot. (unless you guys want more anyway) Prepare for this to be as self indulgent as hell. :D

And I'll make it Time while I'm at it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

This was the third time this week that you found something like this. You didn't know who was doing this.

A basket, filled to the brim with goodies and trinkets alike, sat properly outside of your window sill. It would be charming if you weren't on the third floor. Someone was climbing up to your balcony and leaving the baskets for you to find.

It was creepy- to a degree. There was never anything malicious about it though. The baskets typically held a flower, a warm meal (or groceries) and some little thing for you to put around your apartment.

You see, you moved to the Kingdom of Kokiri with nothing but a backpack and small child's wagon. Your apartment wasn't even on a nicer side of town. But it hard to be worried about robbers when you're home is bare and empty.

Slowly, that's been changing though. The baskets always had a poem attached, but no name. You secret admirer would give little things from time to time. The baskets are getting more frequent too.

What used to be a small monthly thing, turned weekly then bi weekly- and you're beginning to suspect that they're turning into a daily thing.

Part of you worries that whoever this is, is spending too much on you.

But seeing that the last basket had a new set of dining wear with plates and cups and a some nice utensils to match- you're not inclined to have them stop anytime soon when they're improve your very living conditions as it is. Even if you feel a little guilty.

That being said, this basket had a warm meal already prepared, still steaming in the glass tupperware. There was a small bouquet of roses near the top and a small little box that you opened to see a single slice of chocolate cake.

The card was attached on the inside but it lacked the typical poem. It simple read: "Rest well, Love. You've worked hard today. Dinner's on me. I just want to see you smile in the morning."

You smiles and tucked the card back into its place, bringing the basket back into your apartment.

You have to figure out who this secret admirer of yours is. It has to be someone with access to your floor but it can't be a neighbor. Right? You're on the corner so it can't be anyone to your left. But maybe your neighbor to the right? That's a creepy thought. You hardy ever see him and you don't think he showers throughout the week.

It can't be him. Or at least you're going to deny it.

Maybe it's someone from above? That's more likely. There is this cute guy that you know lives on the floor above you, but you don't know which apartment. It wouldn't be hard to drop the basket secretively onto your balcony from above if that was the case.

The thought rotates in your head as you eat the food. It's delicious. Decadent, even.

Gratitude fills your heart and soul. you have to return the favor somehow after everything this person has provided for you. But how?

You head to bed with a smile on your face and a full stomach. You'll have to start small but you can think of something.

The next morning you head to the castle and walk straight to the throne room.

It was a deal that the king had proposed personally to you. You get to work concern free in his kingdom but you have to report to him every other Tuesday. Seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you didn't think it wise to refuse.

You've grown somewhat close, but with his power and status by his side, you couldn't help but slightly intimidated by him even now.

The king- like most Royals of Kingdoms of Hyrule- was a dragon. Sure, he could take the form of a typical man, but he stayed in his half form more often than not. His age and strength add to his credentials. As the current senior amongst dragons, all you've gathered is that he's lived longer than he appears. The older the dragon, the stronger they are.

King Link is a force to be reckoned with.

However, he's kind and patient with you. He's not all that bad.

You nod and grin at the Captain, who's affectionately called Warrior. Another dragon hidden among the people. You don't know his story, but he's a hard working fellow. He also came to the king in a time of need, looking for asylum and has been working under his employ ever since. He is the king's right hand man.

Warrior smiles back and salutes you softly as you enter. You'll never understand why you've more or less been given free reign of the castle, but with his approval, you feel better to head on in.

You meet the king and curtsy clumsily, still feeling rushed. He's asked you call him Time and he stands from the throne. His face is kind, amused even. A chuckle tumbles out of him as he walks toward you, his marble like tail swinging behind him. "I thought we were passed the formalities, my dear."

You clear your throat. "Were we? I don't recall."

He laughs again. "Come. We have much to discuss."

You nod and follow. He leads you to the back room with a gentle touch the small of your back. It's a familiar routine that you've grown comfortable with.

There's a small rounded table with a pale blue laced table cloth. There's a delicate tea set and it's covered to the brim with snacks and treats alike. You think you see a few of your favorites and your eyes light up at the sight.

King Time notices and he smiles, pleased. "Sit."

You nod and take your usual spot. Time sits across from you and serves you the pieces that you eyes earlier. You almost feel bad. You're still full from the night before.

Time notices. "Something wrong, dear?"

"No." You shake your head, afraid of insulting him. "Someone gave me dinner last night and I'm still a bit full from it."

Time seemed to be shocked by the tidbit. "Really?... Was it good?"

"It was delicious!" You can't help but gush. "I would normally cook for myself but they send food from time to time and it was still warm so I couldn't resist."

His smile turns a little tight. "Is that so? I'm glad that you were fed adequately then.... May I ask who?"

You falter, the smile on your face turning more soft and shy. "Um... I think it was my neighbor..."

"...You don't know who it is?"

You blush and look down onto the table, playing with the treats on your plate. "I know that I should be more cautious. But they've only ever left it on my balcony... It's a secret admirer so to speak. They've given me trinkets and flowers and food. It seems as if they've slowly been furnishing my house for me. I don't know... I've been trying to think about who it may be, but I'm coming up short. Regardless, enough about my lack of love life-"

Time abruptly puts his hand under the table but you catch the reason why before he can hide it.

He's bent the fork in half with his hand, seemingly without realizing it. He smiles brightly, as if nothing happened and the thought gets put on the back burner for now. "Right... Well, you can always ask for my assistance, Darling."

You shake your head with a small smile. "Thank you, but I'm here to report my work. Let's get to business then."

Time clenches his jaw slightly but nods in agreement. "Right. I believe last time you mentioned that you were following a trail of some suspicious individuals on the property of the farm lands for relief efforts. Did that bloom into anything substantial?"

You pull out a manila folder with a smirk and hand it to the king. "Did it ever."

The time passes before you know it. Little by little, as you give your report, if drifts away and you're talking about your lives as much as you can before you leave.

Warrior comes in, informing Time of another meeting has to attend. He looks apologetic.

The king winces but you're quick to stand up, mid panic. "I'm sorry. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Impossible." Time blurts, standing abruptly as well. He reach out as if to stop you and moves around the table as if to block your path. His tail curls around your ankle, stopping your in your tracks. It's gentle but firm. Even if his grip is painless, you can already tell that you wouldn't be able to escape on your own.

You freeze and after a beat he lets you go. Time gulps and stands, seemingly more aware of what he was doing. His grip falls away and he takes a step back. "R-right... I won't keep you from your work much longer then."

You can't help but blush. He's always been fine with putting a hand on your shoulder or your back... but the tail is one of the most sensitive parts of a dragon. And he just grabbed you with it. For some reason, you find yourself blushing.

You nod dumbly, as if your schedule is jammed packed like his. Your heart is pounding. You follow Warrior out of the room as he leads you back to the main gate of the castle.

"Sorry." Warrior says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nonono-" You're still shaken by the phantom feelings of the scales around you. Even if it was just a brush, there was a power there. You don't know why you're so out of whack suddenly. The act was more intimate than you were able to admit. "If you didn't say anything, I would have kept going. Honestly, I swear he's just humoring most of the time."

"This is the only time we get him to actually take a break." Warrior tells you. "He'd work himself t the bone if it weren't for you. It's not like he can't afford it. He's two years ahead of his work. By all means, keep him there longer."

You flush and look away, walking out of the gate. "Oh please, he'll get sick of me before we'd know it."

Warrior is quick to bite his tongue, biting back the instant retort that no doubt sat on his tongue. He takes a breath and shakes his head.

"...He likes you." Warrior looks pained. Like there's something there that he wants to say but can't. You don't see it. "Would you like me to walk you home? If I recall you live far enough away-"

"Not enough to cause concern, Captain." You smile and pat his shoulder. "But thank you."

"His Majesty wouldn't like it if anything happened to you." Warrior tries to push it a little bit.

You shake you head. "And take more of your time away? You work just as hard, if not harder, than the entirety of the castle staff. I think only the King works harder than you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. His own scales poke from under his skin. Something is riling him up but you don't know what. You've never seen his dragon form or even his half. He seems to hide it more often than not. You would never know he was a dragon if the King hadn't said anything earlier.

Warrior sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Very well... Just... be safe, yeah? I don't think the goddesses themselves would be able to calm the king should things go wrong."

"Like what?" You snort. "I end up in the hospital? I'll be fine. No worries."

You wink for good measure and head home, happy, fulfilled and ready to take on the rest of the week.

You miss the next three visits.

Part 2

[https-evan2]

heyy could I please ask for a percy jackson x reader that's from Apollo's cabin and how they kinda secretly pine over eachother (idk the plot can be up to u 😭)

oki (sorry that im so late there’s been s lot happening irl) i have an alternative version that i might post later

Gn! Reader x percy

no pronouns mentioned for reader and he/him for percy

• You hadn’t seen your boyfriend for an eternity (a week) and you were not having it and it showed.

A/N I misunderstood what you meant bc i wrote this at 2 am on a school night so it might not be so secret

• Your friends complained about you being overly dramatic and how you couldn’t shut up about it

• since you’re a child of Apollo you wrote multiple poems about your sadness and longing for him (totally not overdramatic)

• you sneaked into the Poseidon cabin to steal borrow his shirts

• after decades (seven days) percy returned and you couldn’t leave each other alone after that

• you’d sneak out from capture the flag to make out meet up with percy, you’d hold hands no matter what, you’d sneak into his cabin to sleep in his bed (you payed the other Apollo kids not to tell chiron and mr D knew he just didn’t bother doing anything) and you wrote poems to him but his dyslexia made him struggle reading them not to mention you used very fancy long words.

• you were completely smitten for him and it’s only been a week. But he wasn’t any less guilty over pining over you. He took you out near the lake because you had more privacy and he lived underwater kisses

[shinobus-unbreakable-spirit]

Hello!

Could I request for some Yoriichi fluffy headcanons and a little bit of NSFW ones?

I hope you have a nice day/night!

Coming right up! :D

Yoriichi Headcanons

Fluffy with some NSFW!

Can be little spoon or big spoon depending on the situation, as long as you two are close he's happy

When it comes to days out as a couple, he likes to let you decide where you should go, and no matter how wild or implausible your suggestion is he'll make sure it happens

Absolutely loves, loves, loves giving oral. He cannot enjoy intimacy unless he knows you're pleasured and content, making him an extremely caring and sensual lover. He'll go down on you for hours with no complaints whatsoever, all he wants in the bedroom is for you to feel infinite pleasure

If you give him a blowjob, this is one of the few times you'll see him lose control. He's incredibly sensitive there and the moment your lips wrap around his cock, he bites his lip and proceeds to softly moan, gripping your hair firmly. It just blows his mind so much. He can certainly climax from a blowjob

If you have kids together, he'll be the best father. He will never lose his cool and will be extremely gentle, but still excellent at teaching your children everything they need to know. He also appreciates everything you do as a parent, and frequently makes time to show you how much he loves you be it through gifts, poetry, cuddles, lovemaking, or simply asking you what would help ease the stress of parenting and making that happen

He is a quality time sort of guy. He likes to spend almost every moment with you, as you're his whole heart; he loves you so much and, although he doesn't vocalize this often, he has no idea what he would do without you. He's very content even just sitting in silence with you, an arm protectively wrapped around you as he sharpens his sword, writes, or does something else

He has a secret talent for poetry. He writes various poems (mostly love ones) and enjoys reading them out to you with that dulcet tone of his. Understood tacitly, many of his poems are dedicated to you and inspired by his burning affection

People underestimate Yoriichi, given his unassuming disposition. This might lead to cocky assholes feeling like they can mess with you, but the second someone gives you so much as a mean glare, Yoriichi shows how formidable he is; not with violence, unless he has to, but by verbally making the person look stupid and humiliating them. He has a quick wit, and he brings it out especially to defend you

He compliments you at random times, in an endearing manner. You two will be sitting enjoying a tea, then he will stroke your cheek and say something sweet like, "You have such raw beauty, my love." The offbeat timing of his compliments shows he says these things with no premeditation, but just as he thinks of them, which is at least three times a day

I really hope you enjoyed these, anon, and that you have a wonderful day! Yoriichi loves and cares about you!

<3

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 12 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna noticed that a new poem by her favorite, amateur writer had been posted, she was afraid to read the finality in his tone. But Bob always managed to surprise her. And maybe she could find a way to surprise Kevin, too.

Warnings: Angst, Kevin is a dick, adult language, 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

After that, it was radio silence. Anna didn't reach out to Bob, and he didn't try to either. He went to the Hard Deck on Friday night and lasted about an hour before excusing himself. Nobody asked him why he was bailing after one ginger ale and a single cup of peanuts, and that was enough to tell him that everyone knew. Everyone knew he slept with Anna. Everyone knew she was married. Everyone knew that they shouldn't talk about it in front of him for fear that the ladies would snap their necks. Even Nat was being very kind and considerate which wasn't really like her at all. 

When Bob was halfway to the door, he felt a small hand curl around the back of his bicep. "I'll see you tomorrow night for D&D?"

He nodded down at Jessica's hopeful face. "Yeah. I can pick you up if you want."

Her face brightened a little bit. "I'll text you in the morning." He turned to walk out, and her hand slid down his arm. "Hey, Bob? Don't give up hope on her, okay?"

He didn't know how to respond, so he just kept walking. He had no idea what to say or what to think. It wasn't like he could stop loving someone overnight. He didn't really want to either. Anna's life was quite frankly messier than he had ever expected. She did a pretty good job of hiding it from everyone, and it seemed like she would have continued down that path if they didn't have sex. And that was the other issue; it wasn't just sex to Bob. Anna knew about the things he tried to hide himself, and she seemed to want him in that moment anyway. 

Her words from the previous night made him ache. 

'You're perfect. You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them.'

If that meant she was in love with him or that she thought she could be someday, then he was afraid to walk away from her. But now he was terrified of getting hurt or somehow hurting Anna like Kevin had. Part of him believed if he could just see Anna's husband with his own eyes, confirm that he was exactly the way she described him, then he might be able accept that she just needed time to settle her divorce and to heal. If that was the case, he wanted to make it work. 

In the meantime, when he got home, he ended up standing in his living room, staring at his bookshelf before going upstairs and staring at his bed. He could still picture her red hair all spread out for him. He could still feel it between his fingers as the silky strands slid along his palm. He could taste her on his tongue. He could hear her telling him what she wanted.

Bob picked up his computer and slipped under the covers, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep right now.

----------------------------

It had been there since early Saturday morning. A new one. Anna desperately wanted to read it and memorize it like she had the others, but she was afraid to face the finality. Her email alert mocked her every time she looked at it.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Bob wrote a new poem, and she didn't think she could handle reading exactly how he viewed her now. He'd never be like Kevin, openly belittling her or putting her down, but she knew the shiny packaging had been removed now, and he saw what was really inside. Just a mess of a human. She put off reading it and put off reading it, but when she was sitting at her desk at work on Monday, she made herself decide between reading the new poem or calling Kevin. After a fairly short debate, she decided to read the poem. It was probably so bad, calling Kevin later wouldn't even feel painful in comparison. 

She tapped on the link in her email and was taken to something so unexpected, she gasped as she read it.

There is empty space on my bookshelf,

The one I bought with you in mind.

I didn't know it was for you at the time,

But one night made it obvious,

Before an instance took it.

Reality surpassed intention today.

Your worn favorites and mine pristine,

Should mingle and mix,

Genre forgotten.

Dog eared pages became so endearing.

But I'll never see them on my shelf,

Unless you come back and stay this time.

The format was different from what he usually wrote, but it was so obviously Sky Writing. So obviously Bob. So obviously about her. And he didn't sound angry. Could he possibly miss her after everything she did and said?

She jumped when her phone vibrated on her desk, and for a split second, she believed it could be Bob. Her heart beat faster with anticipation, but it was from somebody else.

Jessica Reed: If you don't come down to this weird tree right now, we're going to come up and get you.

Anna had lost track of time. It was after noon now. She knew that her friends were trying to make sure she was holding herself together after she refused to go to the Hard Deck over the weekend. How could she continue to go somewhere that Bob had the rights to first? It wasn't until she read his Sky Writing poem that she thought perhaps there was a chance he might not only be okay with her presence but perhaps even miss her like she missed him.

With her sad little lunch in hand, she dragged herself down to the quad, trying to decide when was the best time to call Kevin. She was tired of going through lawyers who couldn't seem to get him to budge, and each ninety day window just ate away at more of her soul. She should have been so much more careful with her writing when she had the opportunity, and now he'd completely locked her out of being able to access it. 

No, she was going to have to beg him, plead with him, anything it took to get what she wanted without giving away where she'd moved. Maybe if he agreed to let her have her manuscript, one of her friends would let her borrow money for a flight back to New Jersey to retrieve it. She was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn't help it. She needed to at least get this one thing.

"There she is!"

Anna looked up to see her friends directly in front of her on the bench by the tree, and the fact that they both looked happy to see her made her heart ache. "Hi," she said softly as she sat down between them when they both scooted over.

"Hummus?" her friend asked, passing along a container while she bit into her perfect looking chicken salad sandwich on artisan bread. Anna accepted a few bites of Bradley's gourmet snack, because she was absolutely starving today.

"Thanks," she murmured, and she let herself sink into the background a little bit as the two other women continued the conversation they'd been having. Now that she was down here with his friends, she couldn't stop thinking about Bob again. His soft hair and his kind eyes. The way he always paid attention to her when she was talking. How good he made her feel.

She listened to her friends argue about alumni weekend for a few minutes before she finally cut them off to ask, "Has Bob said anything about me?" Both of them looked at her, and she quickly added, "I can't stop thinking about him."

Jessica smiled softly and said, "Not a word, but I've never seen him look so sad. And I mean that in a good way, because although I know he's confused and hurt, I'm pretty sure he just misses you."

"But," the other woman quickly cut in, "the most important thing right now is making sure you take care of yourself. Even if you are in love with Bob."

"Oh!" Jessica exclaimed. "I have an idea! We could just kill Kevin!"

Anna snorted in spite of herself. "That would actually solve a lot of my problems. Maybe even all of them."

"Only one problem with that," Advanced Calculus said blandly. "You're not a killer, Jessica."

"I could kill someone," Jessica muttered under her breath, and truly Anna almost laughed, because Jessica Reed was one of the gentlest people she'd ever met. The most violent thing about her was her Dungeons & Dragons character. "I could at least probably slap him."

"He wouldn't know what hit him," Anna said, and all three women erupted into laughter. And it felt so strange to feel genuine happiness, even if it only lasted for a few seconds, that Anna almost started crying. As their amusement died down, she asked her friends, "Do you think.... Bob would respond if I texted him?"

Jessica squeaked, and then both women said, "Yes."

---------------------------

Bob was back to square one. Back at the bookstore. He was fifteen minutes early. He was already looking through the Classics. He was about to meet up with Anna. He was nervous.

Nat scoffed when he told her where he was going, and he truly did appreciate that his friend wanted him to proceed with caution, but she just didn't understand how Anna made him feel. Being friends with her after sleeping together a total of one time might kill him, but he knew that was probably all he could have now.

It was almost like he could sense that she was there. He looked up from the Shakespeare volume in his hand, and he saw her walk in the door. As he got closer to the loft railing, he saw her glance up and meet his eyes like it was some depraved version of Romeo and Juliet. She mouthed the word Hi before she headed for the stairs, and in less than a minute, she was standing right in front of him. 

Anna looked nervous, but everything else was just the same. Those perfect freckles decorated her face. Her brown eyes were bright. Her pretty hair was in a messy braid. He saw her burgundy nail polish as she fidgeted with her denim jacket. He wanted to know if she still thought he was the kind of person she could love. He wanted to ask her if her husband was any closer to signing papers. Instead he said, "I was surprised when you texted me."

Her eyes went wide, and he wished he could shove his foot in his mouth as she started looking around anywhere but at his face. "I need some books for my feminist literature course, and I just thought maybe you'd like more books for your bookshelf."

Had she read his newest poem? It was a sloppy one that he wrote late on Friday night and posted on a whim. She could have deleted her account by now or vowed never to read anything else by Sky Writing. But that didn't stop the poem from being about her.

"I do need some more books for my shelves," he replied, and her eyes finally settled on his again. "And you don't have to be nervous around me. I know you're dealing with a lot, and I promise I won't touch you or anything."

Now she just looked sad and distraught, but she nodded and turned down the very aisle where they first met. Bob had to fight to keep a few feet of space between them as she said, "I'm looking for Mary Wollstonecraft, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton."

They worked their way slowly up and back down each aisle, falling into a natural conversation in spite of the awkwardness between them. In spite of the way Bob couldn't keep himself from looking at her as she ran her fingers along the spines. When she wanted something that was on a top shelf, he reached it down for her. When her hands got full, he offered his up for her use. And to his delight and also sadness, she kept recommending books for him along the way. That's how he ended up with Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day as well as The Importance of Being Earnest in his hand when she led the way downstairs to pay.

Bob cleared his throat as Anna reached into her pocket for some cash. "I can get them."

Her brown eyes snapped up to meet his, and her cheeks turned pink. He already knew what Kevin did, and while he didn't think there was any harm in saying it, he could tell that she at least had her pride intact. "The college is going to reimburse me," she said firmly before handing forty dollars across the counter.

"Right," Bob said before paying for his own books. When they walked out into the fading sunlight, he looked down into her pretty face. "Will you let me drive you home? Not because I think I need to, but because I want to?"

She seemed at war with herself as she looked across the street and pressed her lips together. But her eyes fluttered closed and she said, "I would really appreciate that."

The interior of his truck was quiet the whole way as their books sat on the seat between them. Only the soft hum of the radio helped Bob hold his thoughts at bay. The ride wasn't too long, and when they were most of the way there, Anna finally spoke. 

"I'm going to deal with my shit. I promise."

Unsure exactly how he should respond, Bob simply said, "Okay."

When he pulled up in front of her building, he turned toward her, intending to ask if she wanted him to walk her up, but she was gathering her books together as she said, "I don't know how you feel about me now. I don't know if you could want me again. But I am going to deal with Kevin. I am going to fix my life. Because I want to move on. I need to." When he was so flustered that he didn't immediately respond, Anna said, "You know where to find me. Thanks for the ride."

He watched her run up the sidewalk before struggling to open the door with her arms full, and then she ducked inside when he finally figured out what he wanted to say. "I'll find you."

-------------------------------

If Anna even had a hope or a prayer at a chance with Bob ever again, she needed to work up the nerve. A real chance with him now that he knew all about her disastrous marriage was what she wanted, but she needed to sort Kevin out first. 

As far as she could tell, everything came down to two options: keep her freedom by giving Kevin ownership of her manuscript, or keep her self worth by fighting until she didn't have anything left to give up. And both of them sounded terrifying. The whole weekend passed where she tried so many times to call him. She took her phone out again and again, let her thumb hover over her husband's phone number, and then chickened out. His voice was like a distant memory, and she didn't want to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. He hadn't reached out one time since she up and left without telling him where she was going, and she was afraid to let him know where she was now.

The worst part was, he would know immediately why she was calling. He knew that he had the one thing she wanted. He cut off her access to the cloud files where she should have been able to piece her writing back together. It would have been time consuming, but she would have been all too happy to do it. She should have known better than to let him have so much of her life and so many of her resources in only his name, but there was a time when she trusted him. That was the part that made her so sick. She had trusted her husband, and now look where it got her.

A shiver went through her body as she woke up for work too early on Monday morning. She wanted Kevin's computer where everything was saved. She wanted access to the cloud. She didn't want a damn penny from him otherwise. She was aggressively brushing her teeth, wishing she had more to eat than a granola bar when she spit out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.

She hated him. She hated him so much, she was going to call him right now. Without a backward glance, she marched over to where her phone was charging and pulled the cable out. Before she could even think about exactly what she was going to say, she tapped on his stupid name.

Anna was breathing fast and deep, her heart pounding in her ears when she heard his voice for the first time in so many months.

"Anna?" he asked, her whole body cringing after just one word. His voice was scratchy as if she had woken him up, but it was 9:16 in New Jersey. He should be on his way to work if not there already.

"Kevin," she snapped, gripping her phone tighter. She was getting angrier by the second as she listened to him yawn while she looked around her tiny apartment.

His tone was condescending as he said, "Of course you'd call me at six in the fucking morning after I haven't hear a word from you except through a lawyer since July. What the hell do you want?"

She couldn't do this. She couldn't talk to him. While she felt strong a few minutes ago, her resolve was already crumbling. She wanted to tell him that he knew damn well what she wanted, but then she zeroed in on what he said. "What do you mean it's six in the morning? It's after nine."

His voice was suddenly loud and harsh. "I meant exactly what I said. I'm in California for a medical convention. Now get to the point of your call."

Her mouth felt like sandpaper as she carefully put her phone on speaker. She started searching for Neurological conventions in California while she told him, "I just want my manuscript. Please, Kevin. That's all I want, and then you can be rid of me."

The bite was gone from his voice, replaced by a lazy tone, and he spoke to her as if she were a very simple child. "It's not going to happen, Anna. I didn't cut off access to it for no reason. It's worth money. You can pay me for it, or you can kiss it goodbye. I might even publish it myself."

She was gasping for air as she scrolled through her search results, coming up with a conference in Carlsbad that was starting today. As the page loaded, she swallowed and told him, "I'll sue you if you do." But even she knew she was full of shit.

"What what money, Anna? I'm surprised you can still afford your lawyers. I don't even want to know what you're doing to make ends meet right now."

Then she saw it. She saw his name. He was a keynote speaker at the National Neurological Physicians Association conference. He was less than an hour away. She sank down to her knees in surprise and fear. Her mind was swirling with information and ideas, and she couldn't even comprehend what Kevin was saying now.

"What?" she gasped.

"I said come up with some money for me, or I'm not signing shit." Then he ended the call as her hands started shaking. She dropped her phone onto her bed. He was in Carlsbad. Maybe she could surprise him. Maybe she could talk him into it easier in person.

Anna had to run to the bathroom to be sick, but her mind was made up. Once she cleaned herself up again, she tearfully made the decision to cancel her morning classes via email, and then she started grabbing her purse and her essentials. She folded up the newest copy of the divorce paperwork her lawyer had emailed to her and tucked it away. Then she ran for the bus stop, nearly tripping several times as she read through the schedule of speakers who were at the conference this week on her phone. If she caught a bus within the next fifteen minutes, she might make it in time to see Kevin right before he gave his welcome speech.

---------------------------

We will meet Kevin in the next chapter. Now is an acceptable time to start sharpening your knives. Bob, please don't give up on Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@cruelmissdior

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@angelbabyange

@eternallyvenus

@sgt-barnesveins

@kmc1989

@libbyaller