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ppushable · 3 months ago

Text

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

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Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

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ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

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Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

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The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

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The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

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There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

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Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

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rs8ndead · 3 months ago

Text

❛ Drummer boy ❜

" anyone tell you you’re pretty..? "

── ﹙ 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ MASTERLIST&INFO.﹚. ☆

→﹐ 𓏵﹒ SUMMARY.﹒⟢ ⸻ dating Rodrick <3

→﹐ 𓏵﹒ PAIRING.﹒⟢ ⸻ rodrick heffley x gender neutral reader

→﹐ 𓏵﹒ A/N.﹒⟢ ⸻ comments & reblogs urged⠀·⠀request a bot⠀★☆ I have written all of this out just from the pure boredom that I go through on a constant, daily basis, and because I have am also very touched starved for affection and bored and want to write and I have a constant fuel for writing and for roleplaying, but I have so many google doc’s for my original characters that I have to finish and i wanna get into a friend group without getting to weird and to attached to other people. Anyways I have no brain cells to write a proper sentence nor do I have the proper brain cells to come up with some jaw dropping title that will make people go like “oh wow that’s a super cool title… wish I came up with that title” BUT NOOOOOOO I came up with drummer boy, and it’s going to stay like that for a while until I come up with something better. I’m going to make a bot for these headcanons by the way THEYRE TO GOOD RO NOT MAKE BOTS FOR. Anyways I have to go back to school tomorrow because I accidentally stepped on my glasses and the leg came off and then another day the other leg of my glasses randomly fell off so I almost missed an entire week and now I am being informed I’m going back to school tomorrow so I have to switch bags because I’m not going back to school having a juicy couture bag and a plush backpack while having the face of an abomination because I’ll just look like some weird weeb with an anime fetish and I also have to make a bunch of focuses for my apps so nobody knows my deepest darkest secret: I run a tumblr blog and post headcanons and all that stuff. I have so much on my plate right now but it’s okay. I’m sorry if any of the bots are weird with their replies, IM SORRY😭

→﹐ 𓏵﹒ TAGLIST﹒⟢ ⸻ none ( ;´ - `;)

→﹐ 𓏵﹒ WHO REQUESTED.﹒⟢ ⸻ no one ( ;´ - `;)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ © ❛ rs8ndead . she/her

🥁 ⸺ Rodrick, who’s like a touch starved puppy, always following his lover around as if he were afraid of losing them if he were to be separated from them.

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ literal definition of ‘written by a woman’ that’s been mashed up with a touch starved puppy who just wants some belly rubs along with an emo guy. He’ll follow his partner around, offering to carry their stuff and also compliment his partner because LISTENNN. he’s a very yappery type of man when it comes to complimenting his partner, and I think he’d have quite the emotional attachment to his partner

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ if his partner likes music playing at their birthday parties ( IF HIS PARTNER CELEBRATES THEIR BIRTHDAY ) then Rodrick will make subtle hints at him wanting to have his band perform at his partners birthday party, from nudging their shoulder and stuff, and if his partner doesn’t get the hint then he will practically go on his knees and beg his partner to let him play for their birthday party ( please do, he’ll make it worth it. )

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ most likely would have the mentality of a freshman attempting to appear cool to the upper grades, he’d try to steal things from stores that his significant other shops at and if he’s confronted about it by his partner he’ll be all like “whattttt?? pschhh.. no, I didn’t stea- yeah I stole.” He can’t help but tell the truth to his partner, he hates lying to them. I MADE A BOT FOR THIS HEADCANON

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ best. person. to gossip with!! ( if his partners into that ), he’ll probably forget about it almost immediately so don’t worry about him telling others about it, and it’s not like he has people to tell it to ( except for his band mates, who would be brushing him off and be like “he’s in love love😭” )

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ when he’s hanging out with his band, he’ll sometimes be like “I miss them,” “it’s been what, a few minutes without them?”

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ I like to think that he would read some very cheesy poetry to his lover from his lovers window, not poetry that he’s came up with be because he’s obviously to dumb for that, but he’ll read some poetry from a poetry book while some flower petals of his partners favorite flowers are scattered all over him and he’d definitely have one of his bandmates Chris or Ben hiding somewhere and spraying water on him to make it seem like it’s raining for it to be very dramatic as he’s busy trying to pronounce words that are out of his vocabulary while the pages are getting wet from the water spraying onto it, because of him looking at the book most of the time while he’s trying to read to his partner sappy love poetry, he looks like a pastor ( he didn’t memorize the poetry which was his plan, but OOPS!!!!!! he didn’t remember. ) I MADE A BOT FOR THIS HEADCANON

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ he burns cd’s for his partner, 100%, definitely, he’s an emo or either punk guy, NO DOUBT ( I love that band they’re super good but that’s not the point ), his first ever burned cd given to his partner had some cheesy line written on it ( “drowning in your eyes”, thanks to his mom happily helping him make it up ) along with his and his crushes initials and along with the day they would both get together, so for like example: ‘drowning in your eyes: R+V & 2/14/13’ ( my OC’s initial + the day Rodrick and her got together ), and the songs that Rodrick would burn onto the cd would be ‘I’m not okay ( I promise )’, ‘Vampires will never hurt you’ + ‘This is the best day ever’ all by My Chemical Romance, ‘last night on earth’ by Green Day, ‘the middle’ by Jimmy Eat World, along with some favorite songs of his partner that he’s taken the time to learn. HERES THE LINK TO THE PLAYLIST !! & I MADE A BOT FOR THIS HEADCANON

୨୧ ᵎᵎ ﹐﹒⟡﹒

🥁 ⸺ literally like a schoolgirl in love, in private he’s a giggling mess about his partner and kicking his feet up, but quickly switches sides if someone walks in on him and denies over and over, even if they find out. “Deny deny deny, even if they find out… deny.”

@rs8ndead

#𐂯ྀི　　 ⸝⸝　　 rs8ndead #𐂯ྀི　　 ⸝⸝　　 writings #𐂯ྀི　　 ⸝⸝　　 headcanons #doawk x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick

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adrunkskeletonsduck · 2 months ago

Note

hi! i loved songcord so much, i thought you could really do this idea justice. i was thinking, and what if reader finds lip gloss or something similar in one of the old buildings and decides to try it on. either of the sully boys (your choice!) just cannot stop looking at it and wanting to kiss them! maybe a little spice please? thank you!

Lɪᴘ-Gʟᴏss

➜ Pairing: Lo'ak x gender!neutral!reader

➜ Summary: You find a little treasure while exploring an abandoned building in 'Hell's Gates' with Lo'ak that leads to a tender moment between the two of you.

➜ Warnings: kissing

➜ Word Count: 1.7k

➜ Notes: hi guys ^_^

“Lo’ak we can't be here!” You hissed, tugging at his hand in an attempt to get him to turn around. He refused, continuing to move through the thinning underbrush of the forest.

“It’s been abandoned for years, we’ll be fine!” he replied insistently, pulling you along with him. You grumbled in protest, but he ignored you, looking through the last layer of leaves to make sure it was, in fact, as clear as he insisted. His eyes swept the area back and forth, catching at every small movement before he deemed it clear and marched right through onto the turf of Hell’s Gate.

You bit your bottom lip, cursing his stubbornness and scurrying out of the greenery behind him. You follow behind him as he runs to the nearest concrete structure. It takes the two of you, and a good amount of pulling, to pry the airtight door open. Finally, it swings open, its hinges squeaking from years of neglect and making you stagger back. It begins to close again by the time you both regain your footing, and you both slip through the narrowing entry. Just barely avoiding the heavy thing closing on your tail. You squeak in surprise.

The inside of Hell’s Gate is just as empty and – if not more – dead as the outside. It lacks the lively greens that have grown over the grey structures. Everything is white, gray and an “ugly medical blue" as you'd heard Jake describe it once. The machines and tables are covered in a heavy layer of dust.

You swipe the pad of your finger over one as you pass it, frowning as the blue of your skin turns grey.

“This is gross,” you state, whipping your finger against yourself with a frown. Lo’ak nods in agreement.

“Definitely not as cool as what we have back in the mountains,” he adds, although technically speaking it's all the same, just less dusty.

“But look at the size of it…no way all those tiny sky people needed this much space,” you joke, and Lo’ak laughs. Pushing the door to the next room open, he notes that this door is much lighter than the last.

The two of you walk in, your eyes glazing over everything in the room as you drift off from him to explore it. The room reminds you of where Norman and some of the other scientists sleep, so you gather it must be some type of sleeping corridor, although it is quite bare. There are no sheets or pillows, no bags full of belongings or clothes on hooks or racks. Just steel and metal structures that stack on top of one another and hold thin white mattresses on them. Although the mattresses can hardly be described as white now.

“It's empty!” Lo’ak exclaims from his side of the room, beginning to make his way towards you. You open your mouth about to agree with his statement before a small bag catches your eye. It’s tucked under one of the bunks, just barely visible from where you stand. It must have been forgotten. You have to bend down to see the whole thing, and get down on your hands and knees to reach it.

Lo’aks heavy footsteps halt as he reaches you. “What are you doing?” he questions with furrowed brows and an amused smile.

“I found…” you reach under the bunk, pausing as you grasp onto the bag and pull it out, “this.” You pull yourself back up, grasping the tiny bag between your pointer and thumb. There's a floral pattern imprinted on the fabric. Unsurprisingly you don’t recognize any of the plants depicted in the design.

“Is there anything inside it?” he asks with a grin, giddy eyes eager for an adventure. You shake the bag to answer his question, a small grin of your own forming when you feel something rattle around inside it.

“Yes!” you giggle, fumbling around with the piece of fabric, trying to find a way to open it. After a moment your large fingers get a grip on the tiny zipper head. With a gentle tug you pull the zipper open, and flip the bag upside down, letting the small treasure inside fall into your palm.

This time you're both confused as you stare at the small clear tube in your hand. Inside you can see a long stick that goes through the middle and looks to be connected to the silver head of the tube and a thick looking liquid. The tube looks to only be half full, with a light pink tint to the liquid inside.

Your eyebrows furrow and you shake the bag again to check if there's anything else inside, maybe something that could explain or at least give you a clue to what the odd-looking liquid is for, but nothing comes out.

Lo’ak takes it from your small hand into his larger one, spinning it between his fingers. He squints looking closely at it.

“I think something is written on it…” he says uncertainly. He brings it closer to his face, in an attempt to read the tiny English text. A language he could just barely read, thanks to his lessons with Jake as a child.

“Can you read it?” you ask, watching as he sounds out the letters to himself. His mouth opens and closes, whispers of sounds coming from them for a minute before he strings them together.

“Lip-gloss.” He says uncertainly, and then he repeats it, more confident this time, “It’s lip gloss.” Lo’ak frowns at the tube uncertainly, letting you take it from his hands. You roll it over your fingers, inspecting it.

"I'm going to try it.” You decide.

“You don't even know how to use it.” Lo’ak argues.

You look at him like he’s stupid. “It’s gloss for your lips, you put it on your lips, Lo’ak. It’s in the name.” He rolls his eyes, his face contouring into an almost pout like expression. You giggle, which only upsets him further and he looks away from you.

Turning your attention back to the tiny tube, you decide to ignore him for a moment. You grasp the tube by the bottom with one hand, fumbling at the top of it with the other, attempting to unscrew it. You grunt in frustration as your fingers slip and fumble around the tiny thing, but after a few moments of struggle and much effort it gives a little pop, and the top unscrews.

You can feel Lo'aks eyes on you from where he stands, watching as you bring the product-soaked wand to your lips, gliding it along the surface of the soft skin. You can't see it, but Lo’ak is blushing as he sees the soft tint of pink showing through the gloss. The way he’s so eagerly staring at your lips doesn't go unnoticed, and your cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment when you notice it.

You bring the tube down, hesitantly asking, “does it look bad?” His eyes snap to yours, and he clears his throat.

“No it-” he stutters, and you cringe at the hesitation. “It looks good.” He looks away, taking a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself, before moving in front of you to continue into the next room. “We should explore more before we have to head back.”

He swings the metal door open, holding it open for you with an outstretched hand, and letting it shut behind you. You can't bring yourself to make eye contact with him, still slightly embarrassed, but you can feel his eyes on you, or more so your lips. The next couple of rooms are the same as the last, and you guys walk through sleeping area after sleeping area in silence until Lo’ak speaks up.

“Are you alright?” he asks suddenly. You turn your head slightly, your eyes fluttering up to meet his and then going back down.

“Yes why?”

“You’re red," he says.

You offer a half-assed explanation, “It’s just a little bit hot in here.” Suddenly he stops walking, and you come to a halt beside him. Your eyebrows furrow and you look at him in confusion. “What’re you doing?” you ask.

He doesn't answer for a long moment, and you can practically see the gears in his head turning as he thinks. If this had been in a different context, you would’ve made a joke about how it's probably taking him so long to think of whatever it was because he doesn't do much thinking, but you hold your tongue.

“I think the lip gloss looks really nice on you!” He blurts suddenly, and your cheeks flush a deep red.

“Thank you Lo’ak.” You say shyly. He takes a step closer to you as you speak, his eyes trained on your lips as they move before flicking up to your eyes. He takes another step towards you and your breath hitches at the lack of distance now. You can faintly feel the heat radiating off him, and your eyes flutter up to meet his.

“What’re you doing?” The question comes out in a whisper. The distance between you and him, or lack thereof, makes you breathless. Lo’ak doesn't respond, instead your answer comes as the feeling of a rough hand cupping your waist and another on your cheek, pulling your face forward. You don't have time to think about what happens next, and as if by instinct your eyes flutter shut, and you feel his warm lips pressing against yours.

The kiss is slow, and sensual, and you melt into it. You’ve known the Sully boy most of your life, but never had you thought that you would end up in a situation like this with him. After a moment Lo’ak pulls back, and breaks the kiss.

As his eyes open and meet yours there’s an oddly raw and venerable look in his eyes that you’re not used to. You’ve only seen it a couple times, and you were honestly not sure you were supposed to have seen it, but this time your gaze feels welcome.

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, and you can hear an underlying worry and nervousness in his tone.

You assured him gently, "That was perfect.”

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the-milk-monarch · 10 months ago

Note

hello there milk! really love your writing, I want to eat it very badly /pos :D. can I please request a Mike, Mal and Scott x reader with very noticeable stims? like clapping, chirping, flappy hands ect? totally cool if not!

☣︎ Hey Anon! Tysm, it means a lot! I hope It's alright.

[𝚂/𝙾 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙼𝚂]

Summary: General headcanons.

[𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎]

I believe he has some knowledge about those.

I mean, he's not an expert, but he understands that stimming is a calming method.

With that in mind, he wouldn't make any comments about it.

At most would ask how it feels like, out of curiosity.

"Well... it calms me down. Sometimes I do it out of excitement as well." You explained simply. "...So... You're like a puppy who wags their tail?" He tried to joke lightheartedly, hoping it's not offensive or ignorant. "That's a first time I hear this comparison." You truthfully responded, a bit amused and not offended at all. "Is it bad?" His voice hesitated slightly as he got more worried about your reply. "No- It's actually kinda cute." And so, he immediately calmed down.

His only repetitive movement (and point of reference) is scratching his arm when stressed, but he doesn't do it on the daily, unlike you.

Would never make fun or think of you weird, and is ready to throw hands if anyone is planning on that.

Well, okay, not literally, but

He'd make sure they're not bothering you to the best of his abilities.

Unless you don't want to, which he'll also respect.

It also never bothers him.

[𝙼𝚊𝚕]

He doesn't stim, like, at all, so he doesn't get it.

But you do you ig.

He's aware about what it is and why you do it, but he doesn't care much. /pos?

He might get a bit annoyed if he's trying to focus on something and you start doing it, though.

His first instinct isn't to be nice to people, so prepare for some rough reactions at first.

"Will you shut up for a minute?"

He'll learn to tone it down.

"...Can you stop for a moment, I'm trying to think."

But he will not tolerate other people saying that.

Only he has the right to be mildly mean to you sometimes /affectionate

Even if someone were to look at you the wrong way.

He's not the one to infantilize you, as he knows you're capable of protecting yourself, but if he's feeling particularly spicy that day, there might be some domination display on his part.

"Are you looking for something?" He stared daggers at the person who dared to show any sort of negative opinion towards you. "...To get hurt, perhaps?"

[𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝]

Now this poor guy has no idea what autism/adhd even is.

Like, never heard of it.

So he'll just bluntly ask you what you're doing.

"Why are you... clapping?" He asked, tilting his hands. You immediately stopped, feeling a bit put on the spot. "Uh... I'm excited?" You responded casually, although you weren't sure of Scott's opinion on the topic yet. You wished he's gonna grasp it. "Oh." He said as you saw a bit of cogs turning in his head. You decide to spare him the figuring out by himself and explained further. "It's a stim." You calmly concluded. "You do drugs?!" His face turned into a surprise, concern and disbelief. You got thrown off your trail of thoughts, so a chuckle escaped your lips. "No- It's a stim. Not a stimulant." You elaborated once more. "Of course. I obviously know what that is." He didn't.

Be prepared for a long list of questions.

It doesn't really bother him, plus he has the benefit of now knowing your body language.

If he can make you make those movements, he won!

In case your stimming stems from stress.

Which he also gotta learn is a thing.

If anyone dares to point your stimming, he's ready to protect your honor like the hero he is.

"Hey! If you make fun of their flapping, you get the- slapping!" He was really proud of that one.

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rumblebat · 1 year ago

Text

2nd place was (one of my top favorites) Piccolo! The sexy Namekian himself! Please enjoy the story and look at the rating! >w<

rating: [MA-X] - for a mature audience cw: smut/nsfw, implied afab reader with gender neutral pronouns, implied reader is buzzed/tipsy, breeding, implied piccolo/king piccolo, language, slight yandere theme, very VERY horny Piccolo word count: 1,822

sneak peek: The Demon King glared down at you, grabbing you by the hair. "Speak up, bitch…I don't think I heard you."

x | x (you are here) | x | x | x | x | x | x

Zarbon waltzed over to you, nudging you out of your chair. With a faint grumble, you turned away from your conversation with Goku to the handsome green prince.

"Can I help you?" You asked, slightly annoyed. Your semi-buzzed state only seemed to heighten your senses. Everything seemed to annoy you more and more, and Zarbon only made it worse.

He made a disgusted face and rolled golden eyes, pointing a freshly manicured finger to the closet. "Your services are requested in the closet…(y/n)." He said, a slight hint of sass as he said your name.

You looked over, tilting your head. "Me? Tsk…whatever." You said, taking your nearly empty glass of booze and chugging it. Saying your goodbyes to Goku and the others, you made your way to the closet.

You grunted and bumbled inside, sucking your teeth as the door struck your backside. "It's too damn dark in here! Zarbon is such an ass…not even telling me who's in here." You mumbled to yourself, cursing at the emerald-haired man. Your hands trailed along the wall, at least trying to find a light switch or something. Instead, your dainty hands skimmed across a chiseled, yet soft, chest.

You quickly moved away and stumbled back, "Ah! Hello?!" You called out. The body that occupied the same space as you grunted. "Quit being so loud. You're giving me a headache."

'That voice…' You said to yourself. "Piccolo?" You asked, "What the hell are you doing in here…?" The Namekian didn't say anything. He stood quiet for a few minutes, pondering the next thing to say.

"Since I don't get out much, in Goku's terms. He wants me to try something out. Like…parties. Ugh.." Piccolo placed his back to the wall, slowly siding down to the floor. "I honestly don't get this. Why are two people in a dark room, let alone a closet? What the hell are we supposed to do? Strain our eyes?"

"Talk…maybe kiss. Fuck, even." You said bluntly. Hearing a slight choke coming from Piccolo made you giggle. "Not used to it huh?"

"Of course, I'm not! You think I go around and lounge in people's closets?"

"I'd let you!~" You cooed at him.

Piccolo blinked, evidently unimpressed with your usual reply. "You are a strange one. I knew you'd say something like that…" He chuckled to himself before creeping over to you. The atmosphere around you suddenly changed, becoming denser. Your breath caught in your throat. "Well…" Piccolo's voice was gruff, nearing your ear. "If we are supposed to do those things. Why don't we get started…?~"

You sat there, shocked, and quickly got kicked out of your daydream when a slimy, thick tongue scrapped across your neck. A hefty shiver rushed over your body. "You taste better than I thought…" Piccolo whispered. Your face was quickly heating up. The Namekian sat beside you, then grasped your waist. He firmly placed you on his lap. "I want to take my time with you." He huffed.

You felt like you were going to burst. This was all you ever wanted! Piccolo's trained hands slowly made their way up your shirt and to your chest. You let out a soft groan, feeling his calloused hands play with your sensitive buds. Your hips slowly started to grind on him. To your surprise, he was fully packing. Minus the gags you hear from Vegeta.

You heard him groan, causing you to grind harder onto him. With whatever liquid confidence you had, you leaned over and placed a lustful, drunken kiss on his lips. He groaned and pulled you closer to him. His usual cool body was burning up. Piccolo's eyes slowly started to fill with desire.

With a slightly aggravated grunt, Piccolo picked you up again and placed you on the floor. He mounted over you and leaned down, kissing you back deeply. He slowly started to place his hand into his bottoms, pulling out his well-endoubt member. You placed a hand on his chest, causing his attention to be focused mainly on you again.

"Am I…going too fast?" He huffs. You shook your head, reassuring him with a delicate stroke on his arm. You gently push him up onto his knees and stand up. He follows your lead, "Stand still for me and try not to be too loud, okay…~" He nods and tilts his head, feeling you get lower. "What are you doing (y/n)? - !!?" Piccolo grunted and nearly fell back on his knees.

You moaned as you slid Piccolo's member deeper into your mouth. He let out a low whine and placed a hand on your head. You closed your eyes and pulled back, but before you could fully move away. Piccolo growled and jammed his way back into your mouth.

You squealed and grabbed onto his gi bottoms. He panted heavily and bucked his hips into your face. "I'm…sorry, but I need this!" Piccolo gasps harder, moaning out loudly. You were gagging and gurgling for him to slow down but to no avail. He threw his head back and let out a deep, throaty moan. Your eyes slowly roll back.

The light that peeked from under the closet door, enhanced the thin layer of sweat that coated Piccolo. Your teary eyes watched in awe as he rode out his orgasm in your throat. After a few minutes, he pulled away. Hunching over you to support himself on the wall, he opened his eyes to stare down at you. "Alright…" he started, picking you up and placing you against the wall. "Why don't we get started for real?~"

Your breath quivered as he easily undid your pants. You quickly moved around in his muscular arms to help him. He only chuckled and exhaled, sensing your pheromones. You looked back up at him, your buzz was slowly fading but you didn't feel like you needed it. Piccolo's dark eyes leered upon you, only making you feel smaller than usual. His gaze was similar to a wolf's, longing as if he was hungry for something.

You wrapped your arms around him. Immediately, he pushed you more against the wall before he slid you down onto his throbbing cock.

You both groaned at the feeling. He grits his teeth, feeling as if he won't be able to fit inside of you. "You're..so damn tight!" He exclaimed. You whimpered under him, feeling too full to speak. Without hesitation, he vigorously pounded into you. You squealed out, covering your mouth. Piccolo was losing his cool quicker than he had hoped. His mind grew foggy. He didn't feel like himself. He felt more feral.

You could feel him in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut as he kept brutishly thrusting into you. When he stopped, your eyes slowly opened, and looked back at him. Piccolo's pupils were blown out. His chest heaved. You studied what you could of him in the dark. Before you got a word out, he swiftly positioned you on the ground.

"You make a monster out of me (y/n)…" The Namekian snarled, raising your legs higher. He nearly had you in a pretzel. Your knees easily touched your ears. He eyed you more and more, taking in every piece of you. "I could take you for all myself…I wouldn't let you see the light of day again…~ You could be all mine." He leaned back over you, caging you in the mating press. With a keen foresight, he jammed his cock back into you. You threw your head back and cried out his name.

Piccolo couldn't help but laugh, mercilessly hammering into you. Your g-spot was being beaten and bruised. "Prepare for a heavy pounding, human…I hope you don't mind - but I won't be going so easy on you anymore. Now that I know you can take my cock!" He huffed out, mewling and howling at the feeling. You were so wet and accepting, he needed more. He wanted to be in you forever.

Piccolo bit his lips and jolted, cumming quicker than expected. He pummeled you more and more, drooling at the slick feeling. Quickly, he sat up and adjusted himself. He held you down, propping himself on one knee while resting his arm on the other. Without leaving you, he easily placed you into doggy and quickly picked his pace back up. "I'm not letting a single drop of my cum leave you! And neither shall you, got it?" He asked sternly. The heavy claps for your skin contact nearly drove you wild. You couldn't answer until a firm smack across your ass woke you up. "Answer me. Now." He ordered. You whimpered more, tears practically coming from your eyes. You nodded your head and looked back at him. Piccolo hissed, feeling you get tighter as he slapped your rear.

He started to get more amped. Latching onto your hips with his nails, he continued the rapid onslaught. You wanted to wail out, scream for him to slow down, cry out the intensity of this. However, you couldn't help but melt with each thrust. The fact that he can send you to King Kai's planet and back then to Namek was crazy to you. Your insides started to burn up. "K-keep…hitting that spot!~" You panted out, trying to make your voice heard. The Demon King glared down at you, grabbing you by the hair. "Speak up, bitch…I don't think I heard you." You nearly came on the spot but roared out. "Make me cum!! Please! Let me cum!~"

Piccolo grew a wicked smile and chuckled darkly. Nearly putting you in a chokehold but still easing up for you to breathe, he clashed his hips to your ass harder than ever. "If that's the case, I'll happily oblige but say my name!" You were biting your lip so hard, you thought you were drawing blood. He snarled and used his other hand to pinch your hardened nipples. "Speak!"

He really did it now. His gruff voice, his larger body hugging onto you and the nonstop feeling of his dick tip kissing your cervix. You were quickly unraveling. "D-Demon King!~ Please fucking me harder!~ Make me c-cum!!~" He whined, riding out your orgasm. Your hips tried to match his pace but were shaking too much to keep up.

Piccolo on the other hand was a drooling, barking mess. He moaned out, feeling your walls tighten around him. "Oh..o-oh fuck! Fuck (y/n)!! That's it!~" He ruts himself as deep as he can go and cums, pumping you full of his hot seed. With each thrust, Piccolo's eyes looked down to see his seed spewing out from inside you. He grew hungry again as he watched a creamy ring around his cock form.

He placed his hand under your chin and pulled you back. He placed a deep kiss on your lips, sliding his thick purple tongue in; "You sure know how to treat a King…Let's see what else you're capable of.~"

**Please do not repost/claim/edit my stories story & title card by @rumblebat character(s) (c) Akira Toriyama tips + commission | wattpad

#rumblebat #self insert x canon #fanfic #fanfiction #self insert #dbz #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dbz piccolo #dbs #piccolo #piccolo x reader #piccolo dbz #piccolo jr #wattpad #dbz x reader

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stickymolasses · 11 months ago

Text

NEW SLANG

pairing: harry osborn (marvels spiderman 2 ps5) x reader (no use of y/n, not gendered)

summary: you are a young adult who had to put a pause on your schooling due to unforeseen circumstances. you work at a cotton candy stand on coney island and harry and you chat, perhaps leading to a new beginning for the both of you.

characters: harry osborn, peter parker, mary jane watson

warnings: mention of gambling, writer being stupid :3

an: hello! this is my first fic on this blog. if you like this first chapter let me know and i'll write another one! i have never really written fanfiction on tumblr or at least never uploaded on here but i figured i'd give it a try. i love harry in spidey ps5 so badddd and there just aren't enough fics for him :> be on the lookout for another an at the end of the fic! i don't really know how this stuff works yet but if you're interested in being put on my tags list for this work let me know!

Coney Island was so beautiful at this time of night. The night sky was illuminated with the sparkling shine that the entertainment district gave off. Despite the enchanting scenery, a sense of melancholy enveloped you on this particular night. The realization of your current situation hit home as a teenage girl, clad in an Empire State University sweater, approached your cotton candy stand—a stark reminder of why you were working here.

You could’ve been in her shoes if not for the string of unfortunate events that unfolded in quick succession. Moving out of your aunt and uncle's place had been challenging due to the soaring living costs in New York City. To make matters worse, your ex-lover's reckless gambling had drained your finances, forcing you to put a pause on your education. The dream of becoming a great astronomer remained unfulfilled, and instead, you found yourself working at a shitty cotton candy stand.

Nights like these were bustling, contributing to your current state of dismay. The boardwalk teemed with people, immersed in the company of their significant others and friends—something you currently lacked.

The lingering summer heat made you sweat a little. Adjusting your uniform, you opened the topmost button, and as you looked up, three people stood before you—two redheads and a brunette. "Hi, welcome to Coney Cotton Candy. What can I get for you guys?"

You smile and greet your customers with as much delight as you can conjure. One of the redheads, a very handsome young man, opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it and furrows his eyebrows instead.

You greeted your customers with a forced delight. The handsome young man among them hesitated before making his order. His friend, addressed as Pete, clarified the order, and the other two in the group walked away, seemingly a couple.

“Alright, can we get three of the little cones?” He fumbled through his wallet, and you noticed his striking green eyes. As you handed back his credit card, his gaze lingered in a way that made your stomach twist.

“Have we met before? I feel like I know you,” he pondered.

“Um, I don’t think so. Maybe you’ve shopped here before?” you suggested, playing it cool.

“Did you go to Midtown High? Or maybe you went to Empire State?” he continued.

“I went to ESU. I couldn't finish my degree, though–unforeseen circumstances,” you replied, throwing up finger quotes. He looked sympathetic, a reaction that both touched and frustrated you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve had some of those lately too. I graduated from ESU in ‘21. What were you studying?” The line behind him grew, and despite wanting to chat further, you had a job to do.

“Astronomy. I’m sorry, but there are customers behind you,” you said, cutting the conversation short. He apologized to the people in line, turning to leave but hesitating for a moment.

“When you get off tonight, come meet me at the Speed Demon!” he called back.

“Please!”

As you continued working, typing into the cash register, and dealing with an impatient mother, you awaited the hour when you would be free.

You sigh, locking the register and slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. The remainder of your shift proved fairly uninteresting after your run-in with the man with pretty green eyes. Walking across the park, you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the Atlantic. The waves crash on the shore, creating a soothing backdrop to your uncertain life.

When you arrive at the Speed Demon, the designated meeting spot with the intriguing young man from earlier, you find him leaning casually against the head requirement chart.

"How did you know when I got off work?" you question him, suspicion coloring your tone.

"It said the booth closes at midnight on weekends. I only assumed you wouldn’t have to stay much later than that," he replies, eyeing your face and studying your expressions.

"So, why did you want to meet with me?" you inquire again.

“You said you were studying to be an astronomer, right?” he replies, matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but I told you I couldn’t get my degree. I—”

He cuts you off, “It doesn’t matter; are you good at it?”

“I mean, yes, I would hope so. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been passionate about. I wanted to heal the environment, starting with the stars.” He smirks and looks at his feet, shuffling them.

“Well, would you be interested in not working at Coney Cotton Candy? N-Not that this job isn’t worth your time or anything…” He stumbles over his words a little, getting to his point.

“What are you saying?” Your left eyebrow kicks up in curiosity at his remarks.

“I have a startup foundation in Manhattan. I’m trying to gather as many great scientists and innovators as I can. You seem like a great fit, and it could help you finish your studies.” He smiles wide, and you note that his teeth are perfect.

“Why should you hire some person you don’t know? Isn’t that a little bit sketchy?” You place your hands in your thin jacket pockets and fidget around a little bit, thinking. If he is serious about this, you could kiss him. You would rather work any job other than your current one, no matter a real job where you can actually do what you went to school for.

“You just have that look in your eyes; I can see what type of person you are. You want to help people too. We’d still have to do a real interview, of course; I need to make sure you’re qualified.” He laughs, and his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm; he means what he says.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt.” You roll your neck around a few times, tired from a day's work.

He holds his hand out for you to shake it, and you do.

“We are going to heal the world.”

“So, you haven’t even told me your name yet,” he remarks, walking by your side to the subway station.

“I can say the same thing about you, mystery man. If you weren’t so handsome, I would think you were just some creep trying to murder me,” you admit, probably a little bit too honestly.

He gasps and places a hand on his chest, in faux offense. “I would never, and my name is Harry. Harry Osborn.”

You tell him your name, and he repeats it to himself a few times under his breath. “That's a nice name; it suits you.”

He looks at you, as you are examining your feet. You feel his gaze on you but don’t want to scare him away, so you continue to feign interest in the floor.

“What happened to the people you were with earlier? They ditch you?” you ask, curious about the whereabouts of the group he was with earlier.

“I told them I had some work stuff to do, and they didn’t ask many questions. It was date night for them anyway. I was kind of third-wheeling.” He lets out a small laugh at the admission.

The two of you continue to engage in small talk throughout your walk. When you eventually reach your destination, he stops you.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for giving me the time of day. Not just anyone would do that; you said it yourself, I could have been some kind of psycho freak murderer.” He pauses for a second, opening his mouth and closing it again, thinking about his next words. “I have to be honest, I really wanted to talk to you because I thought you were beautiful; it just helped that you were exactly what my startup is looking for.”

You feel heat rising to your face due to his gentle compliment. Since your last relationship, no one had ever called you beautiful; they only ever called you asking for a check. “Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself. I seriously hope I knock that interview out of the park; I’d rather not go back to slinging cotton candy.”

He chuckles and shakes your hand again, clasping over it with his other hand, lingering for a while. “I’ll see you then.”

part 2: here an: hello! what did you think? reader lowkey miserable until harry shows up LOL. i really wanna do fun stuff with this story idk. i am hoping it came across the way i imagined it! i just like need harry carnally and i realized no one was gonna write about him so i had to take matters into my own hands.

#harry osborn #harold theopolis osborn #spiderman ps4 #spiderman 2 ps5 #marvels spiderman #marvels spiderman 2 #peter parker #spiderman #mary jane watson #mj watson #harry osborn x reader #x reader #fanfiction #harry osborn fanfiction #harry osborn x y/n

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freckliedan · 11 months ago

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jam. listen. i know its a joke in the new dapg but dan asking phil ”would you say you’re a man now” and phil Strongly replying ”no!” is doing something to me

SAME! god. i have so much to say about the ways phil fails gender actually. it's a different way of navigating gender than dan's, which. i think i have made it deeply clear how much dan's way of navigating and exploring gender means to me. but like!!!

gender is socially constructed. man and woman are categories that most people fall into, and the way those categories are defined is decided collectively. and like—the most broadly accepted definitions of man and woman in western society include heterosexual attraction and presenting gender in a way that is appealing to the opposite binary sex/presenting gender in the way most acceptable to patriarchy. that makes all queerness gender nonconformity.

there's different degrees of it, of course—i'm not saying there's no cis queer people, or that all lgba+ people are actively gender nonconforming. there's self determination in claiming trans & nonbinary identity! that's not something i'm going to apply to people who don't claim it. and there's assimilationist lgbta+ people of all identities putting a lot of energy into conforming to cishet expectations of gender performance.

what i'm saying is that in the eyes of many, to be anything but cishet is inherently a failure to perform gender "correctly". on a really base level, that's why the misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia can't be effectively fought against in isolation, and why our liberation can only be acchieved through solidarity.

which like. this is perhaps not the point of my reply to this ask, but it's the framework that allows me to articulate WHY i'm so insane abt phil and gender, even if his is a quieter transgression from expectation than dan's?

like phil's emphatic "no!" on whether or not he's a man? it makes sense! he's not, not in the way manhood is defined by so, so many people. phil's gender is that he's gay. i don't think he personally registers that as something besides cisness, but like, it's something deeply relatable to me in my transness! it's a cool queer way of existing and identifying!

idc if it was a joke in the video! that's also some real shit! welcome to den does gender studies about dan and phil. please keep talking to me about these things forever.

in conclusion. wrow. phil's gender is faggot just like me 💛

#jam replies #anon #amazingphil #phil lester #phan #<- tagging all my original posts this this year #g?#anyways i haven't actually taken any gender studies classes. i'm just stoned and also smart

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woncherie · 2 years ago

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Thank you for replying about the rules!

Then I would like to make request for the blue lock boys : bachira, chigiri and kunigami, please!

May I request how the boys would try to confess to a painfully oblivious, yet affectionate crush please? Like they enjoy hugging the boys and all, but everything flies over their head.

Thank you for your time!!!

HELLO!! ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖) I'm sorry for it to take to long, I was drowning in uni work. I wanna apologize for this mess that I produced. this kinda got longer than expected so I left out chigiri,, I'm so sorry grr

genre: fluff

Reader: Gender Neutral (if I did any mistakes please tell me!!)

☆☆☆☆

confessing to oblivious reader:

Bachira:

You always appreciated Bachiras easy and ongoing character, not taking everything that you say to him seriously. you two could just sit around for hours and hours without getting bored, just laughing and joking around together.

His love language is physical touch. He loves having his arm around you, being close to you, his hands on your shoulders, just touching you in any way. he also speaks his mind, not thinking twice before dramatically confessing to you every few days, jumping on your back and hugging you while laughing.

When you began your (now very close) friendship to him, you were confused by his behaviour, but after a few weeks you got used to him and his way of acting. you dont even take these words serious anymore, even though it seriously hurts you. you'd love to hear them come from his mouth and meaning them. (at least you believe he doesnt mean it.)

Some of your other friends might even ask you two if you were dating. You shook your head, Bachira nodded.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"What what?"

You looked at him with wide eyes, wondering why he just nodded. It wasn't unusual for the both of you to get asked this question, but usually both of you would dismiss it with a quick hand or headshake.

You loved Bachira, and you loved the close friendship you two had, but at this point it was getting more than frustrating. it feels like he knows about your feelings and is just playing with them.

"Why would you say that?" You bit the insides of your cheeks, trying to ignore the pain in your chest once again. you couldn't do this anymore, it just hurt. You didnt want to tear up in front of him, but you just needed to tell him about his behaviour just breaking you.

"(Y/N), I told you about how I felt about you around five hundred times already." you heard bachira speak up defeated and discouraged, his normal joking behaviour being gone. instead, a serious looking boy stood in front of you, looking deep into your eyes, taking your hand slowly and gently. "But all you do is laugh and change the topic. I can't stand this anymore. are you doing this on purpose?", he let out rather frustrated.

"... HUH????"

☆

Kunigami:

Kunigami is literally just a big ass fluffball. He is nice and patient to everyone and anyone as long as they are the same to him.

This is probably why you never realised the special feelings he had about you. yes, he is nice and helpful and gentle, integrating and patient, but with you his behaviour goes up another level. he's constantly looking out for you, making sure you eat properly and stay hydrated, he's even walking you home every day with the excuse that his home is in the same direction anyway, acting unbothered and cool when in reality he should've turned to the right halfway through the way home. (but you don't know. he doesnt let you find out.)

he's inviting you over to him every other day, meeting up and probably playing football with you. it doesnt matter to him that you aren't a good as he is, he would even gladly teach you, as long as it means to spend more time with you.

in order for you to realise he really thinks you are more special to him as the other people in his class, he would probably take you to a nice scenery to confess his feelings. which means him forcing you to spend time with him again, not that you would mind though.

you noticed him being more silently and into his head the whole day in school. after school was over you head to his desk, trying to find out if everything is alright.

"Hey, do you need to go home right now?" he asked you, looking up from his desk and right into your eyes, making you feel a bit shy under his glance.

"No. Is there anything you wanna do?" you answered him. He stood up from his chair, throwing his bag around his shoulder. "Lets go for a walk."

You both walked around the city, hands brushing up against one anothers every few minutes. you could feel him trying to hold at least a few fingers of yours, but kunigami always shyed away right afterwards. you didnt say anything, just hoping for him to just take your hand.

The second you two stood at the bottom of a small mountain you started complaining a bit. "What the fuck, do we really need to go up there?"

"Just shut up and follow me" he said with a grin on his face, stretching his hand out for you to finally take.

you placed your hand in his and he grips it tightly, starting to lead you up the mountain. his hand spread warmth through your body and you could feel your heart racing a bit. stop feeling this way, he is just being nice, he's like this to everyone, you tried to downplay your feelings.

once you arrived at the top it was already late in the afternoon and the sun started to set. you both threw yourself onto the ground, looking up into the sky, talking and watching the sky turn from blue to yellow to orange to black, stars beginning to shine brightly all over it.

you did admit that the scenery was amazing from up here, but you didnt say it out loud. you just know kunigami would grin and say I told you so after you complained the whole way up.

instead, you turned your head to him and looked at him, surprised that his eyes were already on you. (they were from the very beginning, you just didnt notice.)

his hand came up close to your face and he put a few strands of your hair away that fell over your forehead. you couldn't help but turn red at his small gesture.

he opened his mouth, wanting to say something before changing his mind and closing it again.

"is everything alright?" you asked him.

"(Y/N). fuck. I really like you."

☆☆☆

Here is an insurmountable amount of garbage. It disgusts me as well. I apologize in advance.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #kunigami rensuke #kunigami #kunigami fluff #blue lock kunigami #bachira meguru #bllk bachira #blue lock bachira #bachira x reader #kunigami x reader #bachira fluff #bllk #blue lock scenarios #blue lock reactions #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons

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awkward-walking-potato · 3 months ago

Note

Can you do Wade with a short gender-neutral reader who is really good at hiding and sneaking up on him to scare him? They're really sweet and cute, but they're also just a little terror to him sometimes.

Here, Kitty Kitty

Wade Wilson prided himself on many things: his unparalleled skills in combat, his near-immortality, and his ability to crack a joke in just about any situation. But there was one thing—one little, adorable, incredibly frustrating thing—that had him perpetually on edge.

And that thing was currently MIA. Again.

“Y/N?” Wade called, his voice echoing through the empty hallway of the X-Mansion. “You better not be trying to sneak up on me again! I swear, if you—”

But before he could finish his sentence, a weight suddenly landed on his back, arms and legs wrapping around him like a limpet. Wade staggered forward with a yelp, only just managing to catch his balance before crashing into the wall.

“Gotcha!” Y/N giggled in his ear, their voice sweet and playful as ever.

Wade rolled his eyes, though there was a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Seriously, Y/N? Again? Do you enjoy giving me mini heart attacks?”

Y/N grinned, resting their chin on his shoulder as they clung to him like a backpack. “Maybe a little. You’re fun to scare, Wade.”

“Oh, I bet,” he muttered, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. “You know, most people would have to actually try to sneak up on me. But you? You just think about it, and boom! You’re there. It’s cheating, that’s what it is.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Y/N teased, poking his cheek. “Besides, you’re the one who’s always telling me to keep my skills sharp.”

Wade huffed, pretending to be indignant. “Yeah, but I didn’t mean on me! How am I supposed to be the best merc with a mouth if you keep making me jump out of my skin?”

Y/N chuckled, pressing a kiss to his scarred cheek. “You’re still the best, Wade. But it’s fun to keep you on your toes.”

Wade’s heart did a little flip at the affectionate gesture, though he tried to play it cool. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember who’s the real terror around here, kitten.”

Y/N giggled again, unwrapping their arms from around his neck and hopping down to the ground. Their eyes sparkled with mischief, their cat-like irises glinting in the dim light. Despite their small stature and sweet demeanor, Wade knew better than to underestimate them. Their mutation made them both incredibly stealthy and ridiculously agile—not to mention their uncanny ability to appear wherever they were thought of.

“Are we going on a mission today?” Y/N asked, bouncing on the balls of their feet with excitement.

“Yeah, we are,” Wade replied, slipping back into mission mode. “Should be a pretty standard in-and-out. Just a few bad guys to take out, maybe some explosions if we’re lucky.”

Y/N’s face lit up. “Can I come with you? Please?”

Wade raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna just hang off me the whole time, are you?”

Y/N pouted, but the playful glint in their eyes betrayed their innocence. “Of course not. I’ll be super helpful. Promise.”

“Uh-huh.” Wade didn’t believe that for a second, but he couldn’t say no to that face. “Fine. But no clinging during fights, got it? I need my arms free to shoot things.”

Y/N saluted him with a grin. “Yes, sir!”

Wade rolled his eyes again, but the smile on his face didn’t fade. Despite their habit of surprising him at the most inconvenient times, Y/N had quickly become one of his favorite people to be around. There was something about their infectious energy and genuine sweetness that made the chaos of his life a little more bearable.

The mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly, in fact. Wade had already taken out most of the guards, and Y/N had been doing an impressive job of staying out of sight and taking down stragglers with their quick reflexes and cat-like grace. But Wade knew better than to let his guard down. Whenever things were going this well, something inevitably went wrong.

And, as if on cue, it did.

Wade rounded a corner, guns drawn, only to find himself face-to-face with a group of heavily armed mercenaries. They looked like they were expecting him—because of course they were.

“Well, this just got interesting,” Wade muttered to himself, twirling his katanas as he prepared to charge.

But before he could make his move, there was a familiar weight on his back, and suddenly Y/N was clinging to him again, their legs wrapped around his waist and their arms around his neck.

“Hi, Wade!” they chirped, completely unfazed by the dozen or so guns now pointed at them.

“Y/N!” Wade groaned, trying to shake them off without losing his balance. “What did I say about clinging during fights?”

“But I like being close to you,” Y/N pouted, resting their chin on his shoulder again.

Wade couldn’t help but snort at that, even as he ducked to avoid a hail of bullets. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“You can’t die, silly,” Y/N reminded him, their tone almost teasing.

“Yeah, but I’d rather not test that theory today,” Wade shot back, flipping behind cover with Y/N still attached to him. “You mind helping out a little, kitten?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I thought you’d never ask!”

With a delighted grin, they unwrapped themselves from Wade and launched into action. Their small stature and cat-like agility made them a blur on the battlefield, darting between enemies and taking them down before they even realized what was happening. Wade couldn’t help but be impressed—even if he did have to keep an eye out to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble.

The fight was over in a matter of minutes, and Wade wiped the sweat from his brow as he surveyed the aftermath. Y/N bounced over to him, looking as pleased as ever, and Wade couldn’t help but smile at them.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?” he said, ruffling their hair affectionately.

Y/N beamed up at him, their eyes shining with pride. “I know. Thanks for letting me help, Wade.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wade said, though there was no real annoyance in his voice. “Just try not to scare me half to death next time, okay?”

“No promises,” Y/N replied with a mischievous grin, and Wade knew that he was in for more surprises down the road.

But honestly? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #deadpool oneshot

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odyssean-flower · 1 year ago

Text

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 5 - Spring: Long-Distance Observation

Masterpost Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You move into Neuvillette’s (surprisingly modest) house Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out in the place where they tried to prevent his birth (or something like that). Also I used him to kill his family member who was hanging out here :(

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"Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette, I would like to ask some questions of you, if you don't mind."

Upon arriving home from work, Neuvillette found himself confronted by his new wife. She had been sitting in the armchair in the entryway as though lying in wait for him. There was a notebook and a pencil clutched in her hands. Her shoulders were tensed up, like she was squared up for a fight.

Worries crowded into Neuvillette's mind. Was the room not to her liking after all? He knew he should have consulted with her before hand. Or was it the food? He had assumed that she was the type of person with no particular preference, but perhaps that was too presumptuous of him as well. Once again, he dearly wished that he had done more preparations.

Having a wife, he realized, perhaps belatedly, was a surprisingly nerve-wracking endeavor.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and gestured towards the parlor. "Shall we discuss your questions in the parlor? I believe it will be a more conducive environment than standing in the entryway."

His wife blinked, then looked away to the side, as though embarrassed. "O-Of course. I apologize for, er, ambushing you when you just returned from work."

She followed him to the parlor. Neuvillette settled down into his usual chair. Next to it was a little table, on top of which a silver goblet was placed. The goblet was filled with spring water from Qingce Village, a soothing and refreshing balm for a long day of work. Today hadn't been grueling unlike some days, but he suddenly a strong craving for the water.

"Please, feel free to take a seat anywhere," he said.

His wife inspected the various couches and chairs with a cautious gaze. Then at last, she picked the couch that was next to his chair, perching herself right on the edge of the cushion. Neuvillette inwardly sighed. Making people feel comfortable wasn't his strong suit.

He took a sip of his water, feeling its coolness seep through his body. He felt his wife's gaze boring into him as he did so. Neuvillette had often been told that his eyes could unnerve people, something that he had never quite figured out how to fix. He now had an inkling of what those people meant.

"What are your questions, Madame?" Neuvillette said, after settling down his tense nerves. It was strange. He had never felt nervous at all the trials and official functions he had to preside over, but something about this woman, or perhaps this entire situation, made him overthink even the most mundane things.

"Yes, sir. Please tell me the names, titles, occupations, and other pertinent information about all the associates in your circle. Don't worry about talking too quickly. I'm good at taking notes."

"Pardon?" Neuvillette was completely caught off guard by the question.

"Please tell me--"

"No, I've already heard your question the first time. What I mean is, why do you wish to know?"

"Well, as your, you know, wife, it's expected that I would be accompany you to any functions you might attend, considering that you are the Chief Justice. I know we are keeping this marriage discreet, but secrets like these do have a way of spreading among the nobility, and in the case that you entertain visitors, which I am sure is relatively often, I have no desire of putting you in an awkward position with your close friends and associates. Which is why I want to prepare in any way that I can."

His wife's voice was steady, but Neuvillette noticed that her hands were tightly clenched around her notebook. He felt a terrible guilt for not putting her at ease sooner, and some awkwardness. She, like most people in Fontaine, had an impression of him that was very different from who he actually was.

"There is no need to worry about any of that, Madame. Once again, I will give you my word that as few people will know about our marriage as possible. I do not have many personal relationships with others, and as I rarely appear at public or private gatherings, nor entertain guests at home, you will never be pressured to be in any uncomfortable situations."

"Really?" she put down her notebook and stared at him in surprise. "You don't even go to any top-secret noble galas or anything like that?"

"I'm afraid I must disappoint you on that."

"I see..." his wife's expression seemed to relax just the slightest bit, and her shoulders slackened. She began writing down something in her notebook, though Neuvillette didn't have the slightest idea what she could be writing. "What about Lady Furina, then? Since she's the one who pushed you to get married, surely she'd want to meet me sooner or later?"

Neuvillette felt another headache coming on at the thought of Furina. He took another sip of water. "You need not worry about her. I will do everything in my power to prevent her from disrupting your peace. I doubt your paths will cross as well."

"But what if she makes an unannounced visit here?"

"That will never happen." His answer was curt.

"Okay then..." his wife wrote something else down. What is she writing? Neuvillette wondered, but didn't try to lean over to see. That would the height of rudeness, after all. "So, do you have any expectations for me at all as your wife?"

"Madame," he said, looking deep into her eyes. One aspect of human behavior that he learned over the years was that eye contact denoted sincerity, which he hoped was conveyed in his words. "I know that this arrangement isn't ideal or the most comfortable for you, and that I seem terribly high-handed to you, but I want you to trust me when I say that I only want for you to be at ease here so you can pursue your goals without any worry. That is all I want and expect from you. There is no need for you to change your behavior in any way."

His wife's eyes stared back into his own. He couldn't gauge what emotions they contained. "Very well, then, sir," she finally put down her notebook, but remained seated at the edge of the couch. "I'm sorry for coming off like I don't trust you. I just tend to get a bit worked up when I'm in an unfamiliar situation."

"No, the blame lies with me for leaving you in such an uncertain state," Neuvillette said, even as he felt a stirring in his heart upon hearing that she trusted him. Why was that? He was used to shouldering the trust and expectations of all Fontainians, but something about hearing it from her felt different.

She simply nodded, and her gaze wandered around the room. There was a brief silence before she asked another question.

"Who else knows about this marriage...and its circumstances?"

"The only people who know are Marie and the Melusines who work in the Court of Fontaine. Of course, the clerks who work at the marriage registration office also know, but they are sworn to secrecy."

The less people who knew, the less fuss there would be when the eventual divorce was finalized. Furina might pester him about it for a while, but she would forget all about it by the time of the next trial or scandal, neither of which were in short supply in Fontaine.

His wife nodded, looking relieved. She wrote down some more notes in her notebook. Neuvillette suppressed a smile as he gazed at her serious expression. She had said that she was good at taking notes--she must be the type to make meticulous notes about everything.

It was then that she looked up, and he averted his gaze. "Do you like your room?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, it's lovely," she said, fidgeting slightly. "The whole house is, really. And so is Marie."

Neuvillette let out a small sigh of relief. "I'm very glad to hear that."

There was another short silence. His wife fiddled with the spine of the notebook, staring at the low table in front of them, seemingly in deep thought. It suddenly occurred to Neuvillette that he should have offered her some of his water. He rarely entertained guests, so what seemed obvious for others didn't come so naturally to him at times. But still, he needed to make a better effort to make her feel at home, particularly as her husband. Would he ever see that relaxed smile again?

"Sir?" she suddenly spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you feel comfortable about this arrangement?"

He hadn't expected that. People rarely asked about his feelings on anything, and he had to admit he was glad for that. "To tell the truth, it will take some getting used to," he said after thinking about it for a while. "But it's not uncomfortable for me."

"I see," she said after staring at him for some time. "I will do my best to ensure that there is no disruption to your life as well."

There was a knock on the door, making them both jump. "Pardon me, dinner is ready," Marie said.

After a delicious but somewhat awkward dinner (in which you sat at the very end of the very long dining table), you excused yourself and returned to your room.

Lying on your bed, you mulled over Neuvillette’s words. He said that all he wanted for you was to be at ease here so you could fulfill your goal. Was he that invested in you becoming a governess? A woman who he barely knew, who he wasn’t even friends with? Perhaps it was just your deep-rooted cynicism, but you felt like there had to be something more to this.

However, Neuvillette didn’t seem to be giving up his hidden intentions, if he had any, any time soon. He seemed shockingly genuine, in fact. So there was no point in dwelling on it.

Fulfill my goals, huh...

Your goal was becoming a governess, which you had technically accomplished already, so what was there to do here? Study even more? Well, they did say that changing the environment one studies in was beneficial to retaining information. But in all honesty, you were somewhat sick of reading almost nothing but textbooks (history ones not included) for more than a year, so perhaps it was time to change course.

You passed all your exams of course, but there was room for improvement in some subjects, like music and drawing. You had a piano at home that you used to practice daily, but it was difficult to get access to one in the city. You hadn’t found one in the mansion either. Painting, then? Hmm, but I don’t know if I have the money for new paints and canvas, and I’d rather not spend too much of what little I have...

Once again, you had to laugh at the absurdity of this marriage. But in some ways, it was a relief to hear that there was no need to pretend.

You would of course keep your promise to make sure you didn’t create any disruptions to Neuvillette’s life. But, that didn’t mean you couldn’t indulge in your new trappings, did it?

Thinking about that big bathtub and that array of bath products, you got up and headed to the bathroom.

The days in Neuvillette’s house went by at a slow, peaceful, nearly idyllic pace. It was both something you longed for and something surprisingly chafing.

For one thing, you were used to hearing the bustle of activity when you woke up, whether it was back home or in the boarding house. You never realized how much you found those sounds comforting until the absence of them from your life. The house was too big for sound from downstairs to travel all the way upstairs, so you sometimes felt like you were the only one living in this house until you went downstairs.

The garden quickly became your favorite spot in the house. It wasn’t especially grand or lavish, but it had a little lookout that gave a great view of the sea. You liked to sit on the veranda seat and read or do embroidery occasionally.

Living with Neuvillette was a bit like having a roommate who you rarely saw. There were girls like that back at the boarding house who worked long hours. Like them, Neuvillette woke up in the early hours and got home late when you were already in bed. Though you were married in name only, you thought you should at least see him off and welcome him back home every day, but on the other hand, he had told you that there was no need to change your routine for him…

The days when Neuvillette did come home early were as quiet as the days without him. After you greeted him and asked about his day, he would answer and reciprocate the question, which you would respond in kind. After which there would be a lull of silence before both of you excused yourselves to separate rooms.

To outsiders, your interactions seemed cold. But personally, you thought that there was nothing wrong with being cordial and polite and nothing more. And Neuvillette seemed fine with it as well. Since he rarely associated with others outside of work, he probably didn't care much for meaningless small talk either. At least, that was what you told yourself.

So why did he keep looking at you like he wanted to say something more? And what was with that hollow feeling in your heart as you watched his back turn away with you?

Until that evening at the ball, you had never given the figure of the Chief Justice much thought. You knew what everyone knew, and you had done some brief readings on him as part of your governess training, but now that you were living with him for a year, you should make an effort to learn more about him, after he went out of his way to help you.

You decided to not spy, but simply observe him while maintaining a respectful distance.

He really liked his drinks. You didn’t know what kind of drink it was, but it seemed to be quite refreshing for him. You sniffed it once, but it had no discernible scent. It wasn’t stored in the kitchen either. Apparently, there were different varieties for each day, but you couldn’t tell the difference. Was there a wine cellar around here somewhere? You asked Marie about it, but she told you there wasn’t, and that Neuvillette wasn’t much of a drinker. Maybe some sort of special brew for immortal deities?

One time, late at night, you sneaked down into the kitchen to get some water. You noticed that the parlor door was cracked open and peeked in to see Neuvillette sitting in his chair, drinking from his silver goblet. Unlike before, he had taken off his long coat and cravat, lounging in his waistcoat and white shirt. His gloves were off as well, and you could see the glint of his wedding ring as he stroked it with his thumb. His legs were crossed, and there was gentle music coming from the gramophone. He seemed relaxed in a way you had never seen before, but also a bit...lonely.

You didn’t know how long you were there watching him, but he seemed to glance your way, so you hurried back upstairs as quietly as you could, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. He didn’t address it the next day, and you decided to bring a glass of water to your room before going to bed.

After spending a few weeks in Neuvillette’s house, you couldn't help but notice that the meals served here were generally...liquid based. There were a lot of stews, soups, meat covered in sauces, and other dishes with a lot of water-content. They were all delicious, of course, but you also craved something drier sometimes, like bacon. When you told Marie that you’d like that for breakfast sometimes, she looked like she was about to laugh and cry at the same time.

You mulled over his odd dietary choices and briefly hypothesized that perhaps Neuvillette didn’t have teeth. You had an elderly neighbor who had lost all his teeth, so his food had to be all mashed up so he could eat. You attempted to (discreetly) stare at his mouth during a rare dinner together to see if your hypothesis was correct (it was not), but you must not have been discreet enough, for he looked at you with a strange expression and asked if there was something wrong. “No, sir,” you said, then devoted your attention to your meal, trying to ignore his stare. He couldn’t read minds, right?

One time, when he got home and closed the door behind him, he suddenly grimaced, then opened the door again before quickly closing it. You then realized what had happened: his coat tail got stuck in the door. The same thing would happen with his hair at times. You also witnessed him almost trip on the stairs once when his spats got caught on something. His expression barely changed during these times, like he was used to it.

Being fashionable sure isn’t easy, you thought as you watched him adjust himself in his chair at the dining table after sitting on his hair again.

On the very rare occasions when Neuvillette came home during the day, he would go to the garden and stand at the lookout for long periods of time. Sometimes it would rain, but he would remain standing there. The first time that happened, you tried to run outside with an umbrella, but Marie stopped you. She explained that Neuvillette enjoyed being in the rain. You couldn’t really understand it, but accepted it as one of his quirks. You returned to your room and watched him from the window seat. You felt an urge to paint this gloomy, strange sight, which was strange as you weren’t particularly artistically inclined.

Then, he turned his head, as though sensing your gaze, and you fell from your seat in your panic to turn away.

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Taglist: @just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #my works #the winding path of fate

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galacticspaceguy · 1 year ago

Note

((Definitely didn't rewrite this ask like 8 different times pshhhh u don't know what ur talking about-))

First things first, I'm 1000000% agreeing with your post about there not being enough platonic Spiderverse x Reader content. I am literally STARVING for platonic Spiderverse PLEASE,,,, there were only like 10 posts when I searched it up last and AO3 was so empty when I checked,,,,

Secondly, I rewatched the first Spiderverse two days ago ((& watched the new one earlier today)), but something about rewatching the original triggered some dormant part of me that has decided that Noir would be SUCH A GOOD PARENTAL / MENTOR FIGURE!!!

So, If you're cool with it, could I get some headcanons or a oneshot ((whatever you're feeling I'm starving here please-)) with him and a reader who's an older teen (like 17-19) and became Spiderman/woman/person when they were in their mid-teens (15/16)? It would probably work best with the context of the reader being a part of the events of the first movie, but in my head, reader has lived their entire life without close friends or anyone they could really talk to about their problems ((especially after they got bit)), so they closed themself off from others. Noir seems like the type that would be able to push someone like them to interact with others more, while also being entirely willing and eager to act as a support system. Maybe the oneshot/headcanon would involve reader getting hurt and Noir patching them up and letting them know that they do have other spider-people available to support them? Preferably gender-neutral but I don't mind either way! :]

((sorry but kinda not sorry for the kinda longish ask ((I did cut it down tho so hopefully it's a bit better)), rewatching Spiderverse triggered something in me that deeply desires parental! Noir so when I saw your post I immediately needed to send in an ask lol))

“You don’t have to shut everything out, you know.”

His words confused you for a moment, until you realized it was gonna be one of those sentimental, overly-emotional, trying to break your walls down, conversations.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You said, rather nonchalantly. You winced when he tightened the bandages around your arms.

You had insisted on going off on your own, resulting in you getting your ass beat- injured.

And apparently Noir was a doctor, so you got stuck with the black and white spiderman variant.

Everyone had tried to engage with you, the pig was very persistent in getting you to crack a smile with his cheesy, cartoony jokes. Their efforts proved to be fruitless.

You lived your entire like without needing anyone, and you weren’t about to change that. It was better that way. You were safer.

“You’re rather cut off for a kid?” It was said like a question, but you knew Noir knew it was a fact.

You acknowledged this was a huff as you cradled you injured arm.

“Could I, uh, see your hand?” Noir held out his own hand. You hesitated, looking between his hand and his masked face. You placed your hand in his.

He began to wrap your bruised hand in bandages that were provided by Mile’s universes Aunt May.

“I know being Spider-Man is hard, but it’s nice knowing there are other spider… people.”

You stayed silent, your answers coming out in hums or little noises, never taking your eyes off of his hands. You stiffened as his fingers touched one of the bruises.

“You’re allowed to talk, kid.” He said, looking you dead in the eye.

“I know that.” You replied, yanking your neatly bandaged hand away from him. “Just don’t see the need for it.”

Noir slightly tilted his head to the side. He hummed after hearing your answer.

“That’s a shame, I quite like the sound of your voice.

Now he was just trying to butter you up.

“Really?” Your tone of voice proved you didn’t believe him.

“Of course. I can only imagine the type of things you’ve got to say.” He leaned back in his chair in Aunt May’s living room. “What’s it like in your world? It’s obvious all our worlds are different.”

You sighed, a bit frustrated. “Look, I swing around, fight the bad guys, get bashed for it on the news, thats my life, nothing more to it.” You pulled your knees closer to your chest as you sat in an armchair.

“Well, if you ever wanna get more… in-depth about it, I haven’t quite lost my hearing yet.” He got up and sent two finger guns your way. It took everything in you not to let a small smile break free.

He left the room, leaving you by yourself. It was quiet and empty.

Suddenly, you didn’t like being alone.

#into the spider verse #spiderman #itsv #spider noir #x reader #y/n #platonic

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all-about-kyu · 1 month ago

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𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏: 𝑬𝒓𝒊𝒄'𝒔 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒚𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍

Summary: After doing a few videos to do promotions for your upcoming album, your group mate tells you about a new side of the internet. You have no idea the chaos you and your group mates cause.

Pairing: fanboy!Eric x fem idol!reader (Fey) x fem!Hyunjoon (Hwall) Side pairings: fanboy!Kevin x fem!Jacob (Jackie), fanboy!Sangyeon x fem!Younghoon x fem!Haknyeon, fanboy!Juyeon x fem!Hyunjae, fanboy!Sunwoo x fem!Chanhee (Chanhi) x fem!Changmin (Changmi) Tropes: idol x fan, strangers to lovers, gender bend au Genre: humor, smut, fluff Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, crude humor, nsfw rpf/art twitter, mentions and discussion of sex, pre-poly negotiations, kissing Smut Warnings: threesomes (ffm), fxf content, under negotiated(?) kinks, oral (f receive), face sitting, safe sex, light impact play, breast play, hair pulling, fingering, premature ejaculation, grinding, dry humping

Word Count: 3,936 Note: To join the tag list reply to the masterlist or send me an ask! If I missed a warning please let me know!!

Chapter 12 ➔ Masterlist ➔ Chapter 14

No way that just happened. He thought hi-touch would be nothing but saying hi and moving on. When he got to Hyunjoon she pressed something into his hand. He didn’t look at it until he was in the lobby and everyone was minding their own business. It’s a hotel key with a number written on it in Sharpie. She gave him her hotel key.

“Eric! Eric!” Juyeon calls, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost… are you okay?”

“Y-yeah… I good!”

He’s absolutely not good. His mind is racing a mile a minute.

“We’re going to get k-bbq.” Sangyeon said walking out of the concert hall, “Someone mentioned that the girls are going out after. We won’t search them out but if we see them it’ll be a cool experience.”

“I’m gonna… go visit someone…” Eric says just above a whisper.

“Bro you never pass up free food and-“

“Who said it was free?” Sangyeon cuts Sunwoo off.

“You’re the oldest you pay.”

Eric lets out a shaky breath, the room key feels like a ton of bricks in his pocket, “Y-yeah I’m gonna skip dinner tonight… I have to take care of stuff… Here’s my house key, I’ll see you guys later tonight.” He tries to sound casual as he tosses Kevin his house keys.

He’s half-lying to his friends but he doesn’t want to get in trouble with Hyunjoon’s manager or any other staff if he says anything. Lying is safer for everyone right now.

“Well… we’ll wait for the bootycall story in the morning.” Kevin teases, “If we see your girls at dinner we’ll send you a text.”

Eric nods and walks away rather quickly. He knows the members won’t be leaving for a little bit still so blending into people for send-off is the safest bet. Waiting among the masses of people, he tries his best not to panic. Never in a million years did he think that his favorite celebrity would give him their room key, let alone someone who could get in some really big trouble for doing so.

The girls start coming out of the building intermixed with their staff members. Younghoon is going to immediately go back to her hotel room and pass out. The exhaustion is far too evident on her face. Changmi and Chanhi are both giggling and clinging to each other as they walk still ensuring that they say bye to fans who stayed to say goodbye. When Hyunjoon starts walking out Eric swears the world stops. She’s worn outfits like this before. Mostly in dance practice videos, a black sports bra with black sweats. She has a pair of compression shorts underneath that only peek out enough to see the waistband of them. Although she doesn’t make it obvious, when her eyes fall on him she holds eye contact for a second longer than she probably should. It’s enough to make Eric feel slightly insane.

Once all the members are in their vans and out of sight, Eric checks the distance to the hotel. It’s just barely too long to walk considering the girls just left by car. Thankfully, there were taxis and rideshares everywhere.

It only takes him just over 10 minutes to arrive at the hotel. A few of the members are already heading back out again. You are dressed in comfy casual clothes as you bounce and smile while dragging Jaehyun with you through the lobby. Jae doesn’t look particularly happy to be going back out late at night but she’s also known to do anything you ask of her. A few other members follow behind but as expected Younghoon is nowhere to be seen.

Eric lets out another shaky breath before pulling the key card from his pocket again.

“Just get in the elevator and go up to her room.” He whispers to himself.

This doesn’t feel real. This can’t be real. He should be waking up from an alcohol-induced dream any minute now. The pain he felt from pinching himself proves otherwise. The trip up to her room felt like nothing and everything at once, as if he blinked and suddenly was in front of Hyunjoon’s door. He has the key, still, it feels disrespectful not to knock first.

“You have a key, you could just come in.” She teases with a giggle as she opens the door.

Eric’s mind goes blank. Her short hair is tussled and slightly damp, clearly just showered. Her body is wrapped in a fluffy robe which he assumes to be the only thing covering her.

“I um- I- it seemed rude not to knock first.”

She smiles sweetly and takes his hand in hers, “Come on in before someone sees you pretty boy.”

Eric lets her pull him into the room and close the door behind him. He knew Hyunjoon was taller than him. He knew in theory, he knew from hi-touch. Having her here right in front of him no more than a few inches from him reminds him of that fact. It makes his brain stop and his stomach flood with butterflies.

“You look nervous.” She says softly, reaching out to cup his cheek in her hand, “Are you okay?”

“It feels… really unreal…”

“Are you comfortable?”

He nods.

“Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” He nearly whispers, leaning into her touch.

“Good. Now, what’s your name, pretty boy?”

She knew his name from the fan sign but she couldn’t let her small obsession with him be too obvious.

“Eric.”

She smiles at him and takes his hand in her free one, “Are you comfortable with me kissing you, Eric?”

He nods, “I’ll take anything you give me.”

A flash of something dark passes through her eyes before they go soft again. Though, a knowing smirk still sits on her pretty lips. Pulling him further into the room, Hyunjoon guides Eric to sit down on her bed. The dark-haired woman immediately climbs into his lap and rests her hands on his shoulders. Eric can’t help but notice your things on the other bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, lightly toying with the collar of his shirt.

“What if-“ He cuts himself off with a quick glance at the other bed.

“She’ll be out for a little bit. We have time to do as much or as little as you’d like.”

That’s all it takes. Eric pushes up to capture Hyunjoon’s lips. She lets out a small surprised noise but still kisses him back happily. She lets her hands run down his front to find his hands fisting the sheets. Guiding his hands to cup her hips, Eric simply allows the tall woman to do as she pleases. As she starts rolling her hips against him, her robe starts to come loose.

Hyunjoon continues to grind against him and eagerly kisses him back as if she’s done it a million times. Eric is fighting against cumming in his pants. He never thought he’d get to come near this woman let alone have sex with her. With some sort of randomly found confidence, he unties the already loosened knot holding her robe closed.

“Eager are we?” Hyunjoon teases between kisses, “Go on. You have your fun.”

Reluctantly he pulls away from the kiss. As Eric’s lust-glazed eyes wander his eyes fixate on her chest. He must’ve stared a moment too long because Hyunjoon took his hand in hers again and slowly trailed it up her body. Only then does Eric process the very wet patch on his pants from her grinding against him.

“You’re allowed to touch me, pretty boy. I told you to have fun.” She says in a soft sultry tone.

“J-joon I… I wanna-“

“Hmm? What is it, Eric?”

Eric’s hands are still under hers as she places them on her breasts. He takes it upon himself to start toying with her nipples, making her rut against him harder. A small broken gasp escapes her lips when he starts leaving wet open open-mouthed kisses along her throat.

“You’re far too dressed, baby.” Hyunjoon muses still half lost in pleasure. Her fingers just barely tease under the hem of his shirt, nails lightly grazing against his muscles. “Let’s take this off.”

It takes some convincing for Eric to move his hands and lips for all of a split second when Hyunjoon pulls the loose-fitting top from his body. The moment the fabric is off his body, Eric’s hands fly to hold her waist again. Hyunjoon shudders at the feeling of her clit dragging against his cock beneath the last bit of clothing separating them. Her robe is hanging useless from her elbows mostly poking behind her.

“Wanna make you cum first.” Eric barely whispers against her neck, “Wanna see you cum. please?”

“You like me using you for my own pleasure, don’t you pretty boy?”

Eric nods slightly still lining kisses anywhere he can reach, “You take whatever you want from me.”

Hyunjoon continues to grind against him. All Eric can do is help guide her hips and continue to kiss any skin she allows him. Her moans start to pitch up and get louder. Had it not been for Eric’s assistance her movements would’ve been sloppy and erratic. She rolls her hips particularly harshly making Eric keen out a whimper.

“You gonna cum in your pants just from me grinding on you?” She chuckles, “Thought you wanted to make me cum first? Use your body for my pleasure before you get anything properly.”

Again, Eric nods mindlessly.

Hyunjoon chuckles and pushes Eric back flat against the bed. She stands up and lets her robe fully fall off her body. Eric’s breath hitches as she tugs his pants and underwear off together, lightly musing about the wet spot she created under her breath.

“Come here, pretty boy.” She hums, climbing back onto the bed and spreading her legs fully.

Eric doesn’t need to be told what to do. Even though his almost painfully hard cock is now exposed and begging to be touched, he still puts the singer’s pleasure first as promised. His tongue is flat against her entrance as soon as he can get it there. Hyunjoon lets a long moan escape her lips as she tangles her fingers into his pink-purple hair.

“Fuck,” she chuckles lowly, “So good for me, pretty boy.”

Eric moans against her again, subtly grinding again the mattress. Pushing her hands further into his hair, Hyunjoon pulls him away slightly. The moment their eyes meet Eric swears his heart does about fifty backflips. Hyunjoon’s eyes are clouded with lust, glazed over with pure arousal. It’s enough to have Eric feel small beneath her gaze. She pushes his head back between her legs. Not a single thought passes through his mind as he laps at her entrance. His nose gently bumps against her clit in the process. He takes his time, each lick languid but still desperate. There was no way he was letting this go to waste. Eric lets his hands wander up her body. One stopped to hold her hip while the other toyed with her chest. Hyunjoon puts one hand over her on her chest. She lets him do as he wishes but still cups his

“Pretty boy,” Hyunjoon hums, tugging his hair slightly, “thought you didn’t want to get caught. You’re taking your time, we could get interrupted at any moment if we keep up this pace.”

Eric moans as he grinds against the mattress, “Don’t care, wanna taste you. Wanna be used by you.”

“Use your fingers, baby. Make me cum on your fingers. You can use two, it’s okay I had a bit of fun earlier”

As much as he wants to continue taking his time, he pushes two fingers in as he was told. His tongue skillfully flicks at her clit as he curls his fingers inside her. Hyunjoon’s back arches off the bed as Eric wraps his lips around the bud and sucks lightly. He continues lapping at her clit as he picks up the pace of his fingers.

“You’re so good with your fingers, pretty boy.” She praises, “Gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” Eric moans against her, pistoning his fingers faster, “Wanna taste, want it so bad.”

“Eric! Fuck! Fuck! Cumming, I’m cumming!” She moans loudly.

Her thighs shake and quiver around his head, trying to close together due to the pleasure. Eric moves his hand from her hip to her thigh to hold it down. Hearing how she moans his name almost makes him cum right then and there embarrassingly all over the hotel sheets. Hyunjoon tugs at his hair harshly as she rides out her high. The pain of her grip has nothing on the absolutely euphoric feeling of being with her, nothing could.

“Fuck…” she chuckles through a long breath, gently petting his head.

Eric pillows his head against her thigh, looking up at her with pleading, sparkly eyes. He doesn’t say a word and just watches her for a few moments. She puckers her lips slightly, silently calling him up for a kiss. Eric does his best to remain collected as he pushes himself up and holds himself over her as he leans down for a kiss. She wraps her arms over his shoulders and her legs around his waist. Tasting herself on his lips she moans into the kiss. Both of them with swollen lips from earlier. Hyunjoon leverages her weight, wrapping her legs tighter around Eric’s waist, and flips them over so she’s in his lap again.

“You have a condom, pretty boy?” She pants against his lips, grinding against his hard member.

“Wallet.” He mumbles against her lips, “In my pants.”

Hyunjoon reaches blindly for his pants somewhere on the bed until she finds them and reaches inside to grab his wallet. Eric tries to pull it from her hand but she refuses with a light giggle against his lips.

“Let me,” she smirks against his lips.

Pulling away from the kiss, she opens the wallet to grab the condom. As she does so, a small picture falls out. Eric flushes red trying to hide it beneath his hand. It’s too late though, Hyunjoon already saw it. It’s a cute picture of you and her from earlier this year. Climbing out of his lap, she rips the condom open and takes his cock in her other hand.

“It’s cute that you have a picture of me and Fey in your wallet. Looking like your two pretty girlfriends. Is that what you tell people? That we’re your girlfriends?”

Eric whines slightly and looks away, “I- it’s just-”

He gets cut off with a moan as Hyunjoon rolls the condom down his length. She lets out another low chuckle seeing his already fucked out look. Climbing back up into his lap, she hovers herself above him, angling his cock to her entrance.

“Are you ready, baby?” She asks, rubbing the tip of his cock through her folds.

“Mmm~” Eric hums, leaning his face up towards her hoping for a kiss.

As she sinks down onto his cock, Hyunjoon meets his request and kisses him through a moan. Eric grips onto her hips tightly, trying his best not to cum prematurely. Hyunjoon sits still for a few moments, gauging Eric’s state. His eyes are glazed over and desperate.

“Move,” he practically begs, “please, need-” he gets cut off with another moan.

Hyunjoon starts bouncing herself on his cock at a slow pace to start. It doesn’t take long for the two of them to fuck as if they’re in heat. Hyunjoon bounces harshly down onto his cock as Eric thrusts his hips up to meet hers. They hardly notice the passage of time or the noise level. They couldn’t care less how loud they may be to their neighboring rooms. (Hyunjoon makes a mental note to apologize to Jaehyun and Jackie in the morning).

“You having fun?” You call into the room as soon as the door opens.

You watch how Eric eyes open wide seeing you. It’s incredibly clear that he did not expect you to be back already. As if nothing is out of the ordinary, you watch how your girlfriend continues to fuck herself on Eric’s cock. Placing the leftovers on the small table you walk over to the pair. You pinch Hyunjoon’s cheeks between your fingers and force her gaze onto you. Her eyebrows are furrowed together in pleasure, eyes glazed over completely lost in lust.

“Hi, baby.” You hum, “Are you having fun?”

“Mmm~” She hums.

Leaning down you let your hair fall in your face as you kiss her deeply. Eric moans in unison and his hips stutter and he thrusts shallowly. Hyunjoon moans into the kiss. Her hands immediately tug at your clothes silently asking you to strip too. It takes all of a few moments for you to be just as naked as the other two. You find your girlfriend’s lips again and Hyunjoon whines and moans into the kiss. Still, her hands return to Eric’s shoulders as he rides out his high.

“You okay, baby?” You ask softly, barely pulling away from the kiss.

“I-” Hyunjoon starts.

“Not you, sweetheart. I know you’re okay. If anything you want more.” You giggle.

“M-me?” Eric asks quietly as the realization of his early orgasm sinks in.

You push your hair out of your face and look Eric in the eyes, “Yes, baby, are you okay?”

Lifting Hyunjoon up, you help her off of Eric’s softening member. The moment Hyunjoon is lying out on the bed beside Eric, you immediately push your fingers inside her again. Your thumb rubs tight circles against her sensitive clit making her moan desperately. Eric’s eyes fixate on how your hand pistons into her with familiar skill.

“Don’t worry about her. I can handle her. How are you feeling?”

“‘M good. Can I–”

“Let’s get this off of you, yeah?”

Eric nods, “‘M sorry.”

You shake your head and carefully pull the used condom off of him. Your girlfriend still writhes on your fingers as you place gentle kisses across Eric’s face. Tossing the used condom in the direction of the trash hoping for the best but not caring too much.

“Baby don’t be sorry.” You muse, pressing more soft kisses across his face, “You had a good time and–”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you get cut off by Hyunjoon’s moans.

“Go on baby, cum all over my hand.” You chuckle.

Hyunjoon rolls her hips down onto your fingers as her second orgasm hits her with full force. Your hair falls down into your face again as your gaze falls onto your pretty girlfriend. Eric’s eyes stay fixated on her as well. Hyunjoon barely catches her breath before you climb your way over her and sit on her face. Immediately Hyunjoon laps at your pussy eating you out like you’re her favorite meal. Eric barely grazes his fingers over your thighs. You jerk your head toward him as you grind against your girlfriend’s face. Eric surprises himself with the boldness of his action as he holds your face in his hand, pulling you forward into a kiss. You moan into his mouth as Hyunjoon smacks her hand down against your ass.

“She’s doing so good. You think you can do just as good… maybe even better next time?”

“Next time?” He asks into the kiss.

You moan against his lips when Hyunjoon sucks particularly hard on your clit, “Yeah, next time.”

Hyunjoon reaches out one hand in search of Eric’s. The moment her hand is in his again, she guides him to your chest. A small whimper escapes your lips and Eric immediately swallows it. Hyunjoon takes her hand back and braces her hands on your hips. She pushes your body up from your waist for a moment.

“Why don’t you kiss her tits, Eric? She’s sensitive.”

Hyunjoon immediately pulls you back down and continues her ministration. Eric does as he’s told and lets his kisses wander lower onto your chest. Wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, he rolls it around his tongue. The noises that are pulled from you are something Eric never wants to forget. As you grind harder against your girlfriend the noises you let out get more and more pitchy and breathy. Eric nips and rolls your nipple between his teeth while he plays with the other with his fingers. You start to lose your rhythm as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Hyunjoon guides your hips at the pace she wants until you finally reach your high. You grip Eric’s hair as he continuously plays with your chest. You drop your head back and pant as you come blacked from your high. Eric gently litters kisses along your chest and collarbones. The gesture helps you catch your breath again. Eric helps you shift off of Hyunjoon and tugs you into his lap.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjoon teases slightly, face still slick with arousal.

“Mm,” you hum, already half asleep cuddled up to Eric.

“Should I- um- should–” Eric stutters out.

“Stay,” you mumble back, “you’re tired too, I know it.”

Hyunjoon giggles and leans forward to capture you in a kiss despite still being comfortably nestled in Eric’s lap. She of course leans up to also kiss Eric. The taste of you on her lips makes his head dizzy with want. You said there’s always another time for that and he can only hope that’s true.

Eric picks up the ring on the chain around your neck, "This looks familiar," he chuckles.

"This one too?" Hyunjoon teases, lifting a similarly styled ring around her neck.

Eric chuckles, "Yeah, I didn't say it earlier but they do look very familiar."

"Hope you don't mind me borrowing them." she chuckles.

Eric shakes his head and smiles. You just snuggle up closer than you already were. He might not admit it right now but knowing he's not crazy for his missing rings is comforting. They look damn good on the two of you too.

“Do you wanna clean up and we can cuddle?” Hyunjoon offers, seeing how both of you are fading fast.

“That sounds nice.” You hum, shifting slightly in Eric’s lap, “Carry me?”

Eric giggles quietly, “Okay.”

By the time you’re all cleaned up and comfy in bed together you can feel the tension enter Eric’s body again. You shift between your girlfriend and Eric, Hyunjoon spooning you from behind while you have your head pillowed against Eric’s chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“Um…” Eric starts, “You’re dating each other right…?”

Hyunjoon hums, reaching over to put a hand over Eric’s gently rubbing his knuckles, “Yeah, we are… is that okay?”

Eric nods carefully, “Yeah… but what does that mean here?”

“What do you want it to mean?” You ask sleepily.

Eric shifts slightly uncomfortably, “You’re celebrities… I don’t want you to risk anything for a– I’m just a fan I could never ask you to… I don’t know…”

Hyunjoon sits up, unbothered by her less-than-dressed state, and leans over you to kiss Eric’s cheek, “Hand me your phone, Eric.” Cautiously, he hands her his phone, ignoring the copious amounts of texts from the other boys, “There’s our numbers, I already made a group chat. Just rest and we’ll keep in contact, okay?”

“Now sleep, rest while you can. I assume you’re following us to the other stops, right?”

Eric gets comfy again and snuggles close, “Yeah, we, my friends and I are flying out in the morning…”

“So you really should sleep,” Hyunjoon giggles.

“Go to sleep.” You smile softly, kissing his jaw, “Goodnight, Eric.”

“Good night, girls.”

Networks: @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @raibebe

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