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suiana · 3 months ago

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(yandere! doctor x gn! patient) (cw: nsfw, yandere stuff, drugging, bribery, dubcon?)

your doctor is a little weird, you think.

he's a nice guy, yeah. does his work well, always smiling and constantly reassuring you that nothing's wrong with you. sending you off with a nice pat on the back as he emails you your prescription yet again.

but he's nowhere near professional.

his hands linger on your body far longer than what would be considered appropriate. eyes dark and unreadable as you tell him about your lovely significant other that's waiting for you outside of his office. how he'd try and talk bout his own life in an attempt to get you to stay in his office more...

if anything, he acts more like a possessive boyfriend than your doctor.

though you suppose he's just a little eccentric like that. he's a reputable doctor. everyone loves him, and so do you! he's treated you numerous times and his checkups are always so thorough. surely you can just let his... odd behaviour slide.

today you're coming in for a body checkup. lately you've been feeling dizzy and warm despite it being the middle of winter. you wonder if it's because you've gotten ill or someone's poisioning you. after all, there's been some weird holes in your arm whenever you wake up lately.

your excellent doctor has scheduled you in at 4.30 in the afternoon. he was busy earlier today, he says. you understand, he's a busy doctor. your spouse hasn't ended their shift yet so you came in alone. they haven't been answering your texts since they left home earlier today. you can only hope that they've been busy, you'll ask them when they come home.

entering his office, you are met with his polite smile and his melodious voice.

"please sit."

you obey, sitting down in the seat in front of him as you fiddle with your fingers. your doctor looks rather... distracted today. his usually tidy hair is a mess, his glasses wet as though they had just been cleaned.

"it seems that you are feeling warm and under the weather. do you have any other symptoms, my dear?"

"yes... i've been feeling rather..."

you pause, not knowing how to say it.

"aroused?"

you nod. your doctor seems to know you so well.

he hums, going back to his screen before putting on a pair of medical gloves and gesturing for you to lay down on the bed nearby. you oblige. hopefully he'll figure out what's going on with your body.

he starts off normally, prodding and pressing against certain areas of your body. you answer accordingly when he asks you whether they hurt, whether you feel weird or not. it's like any other medical examination.

"so how's your lover been?"

small talk. you realize he's always been a big fan of small talk. asking about your life, humming and smiling as he replies with answers about his own life too. sometimes he says something personal about your life, like how you go shopping on saturdays with your lover or how you sleep with the lights off. you wonder how he knows, is he stalking you? but you shake your head at the thought. you must've told him and forgot.

"they've been... fine. haven't texted me back yet unfortunately."

"mn, i see."

silence washes over the two of you as he continues prodding and touching you. his touches linger, soft and almost as though he was yearning to touch you even more. his tone of voice was nonchalant, like he didn't care.

you feel slightly uncomfortable.

"um..."

"hm?"

"i-i... i guess i'm worried about them. ever since they went out to work in the morning they haven't replied..."

"i am aware."

you remain quiet after that, pursing your lips as you ignore the way his touches have you growing progressively more turned on. you figure it must be a side effect of your condition.

"my dear, can you tell me what you feel what i touch you here?"

"huh? w- h-hey..."

you let out a soft moan as his gloved hands caress your clothed thighs. calm down, he says. it's just a part of the examination. you shudder slightly, squeezing your eyes shut. you feel the warmth in you grow as he continues to gently caress your thighs.

he's right, it's just a medical examination. he wouldn't touch you like that. plus, you have a significant other already. you shouldn't be feeling like this because of his touches. it's wrong.

you exhale shakily, fluttering your eyes open as you stare at him.

"i-it feels nice..? it makes the warmth worse, doc."

"i see... what about over here?"

you let out a gasp, eyes widening so wide you were sure they'd pop out of your skull. where... were his hands touching? surely you're dreaming?

but you weren't. when you looked down, you could clearly see his hands on your nether regions, gently groping and caressing the area.

"w-what are you-"

"i am merely testing to see which parts of your body react to my touch. please do not worry, my dear. this is all medical procedure."

"but it's my-"

"shh... i know. does it feel good? what do you feel?"

you shiver under his touch, whimpering softly as you try sitting up. were you overthinking it? he's just your doctor. this is part of the examination, it's fine.

yet you feel as though his touches have a deeper and more sinister meaning behind them.

"please don't-"

"why not? i've seen your significant other touch you like this multiple times. you've always reacted wonderfully under their touch."

"h-huh?"

your doctor pauses, eyes widening slightly before he lets out a chuckle. his hands continue palming and caressing your privates, almost as though he was... toying with you. with every touch you feel yourself getting more and more worked up, cheeks flushing even more.

"oh dear, i haven't told you have i? i've been keeping a close eye on you... i thought you'd have figured it out by now. your lover certainly has."

you squeeze your eyes shut as his touch, your mind growing fuzzy. what.. did he say? you can't quite understand... all you can feel is how bothered you're getting and how you want him to touch you even more.

"i am pleasantly surprised with how well you are reacting to my touch. i never expected you to react so positively to the drug."

"d-drug? ah... no... don't grope me like that..."

he continues palming at your clothed privates, a calm smile on his face. you can faintly make out the way his cheeks were turning red and the hardening of his pants.

"right, i did tell them not to tell you... my dear, your significant other has left you."

"no... what are you... talking about doc? hah... how would you know anyway..?"

"oh, because i told them to. i gave them some money a few months back and they've been working for me up until... today."

if you were a little more sober, you would've pushed him away and ran for your phone. unfortunately, the aphrodisiac you had been injected with last night has reduced you into a needy thing desperate for his touch.

"what did you do-"

"well my dear, didn't you notice the injection marks in your arm? your significant other had been administering you with tiny dosages of this particular drug i've given them. it's supposed to make you feel good."

"g-good..?"

you hear your doctor chuckle, his hands moving away from your sensitive parts. only to quickly undo the buckle of your pants and slip his hand down on your newly exposed skin.

your breath hitches, hips instictively bucking against his hand as you let out a low whine. you can't think anymore. your brain is so muddled with feeling good that you aren't even worried or disgusted by what he's saying. all you want is him, him, him. he makes you feel good.

"yes my love, good. aren't you feeling good right now?"

"mn mhm!"

you nod your head eagerly as his hands gently toy with your sex, rubbing and fondling you gently. he continues smiling down at you, pleasuring you with his fingers before pulling away. you whimper, face hot and red as you desperately try and pull him back. why would he do that? he was just making you feel so good...

"haha, you want me to continue touching you?"

you nod again. your doctor grins widely at your words, taking off his gloves before you hear the clink of his belt hit the floor.

"well, i suppose i'll get on with my second part of the medical examination now then."

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere doctor #yandere doctor x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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lulunothulu · 2 months ago

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“I've missed you”

Glen Powell x Reader

Summary: Glen is working overseas and misses you.

Content: pure fluff, talks of sex

You’d just gotten home when your phone’s FaceTime ringtone begins to chime. You pull it out of your purse and smile when you see Glen’s face pop up.

“Hi, baby,” you greet when you answer, smiling so wide you feel your cheeks hurting.

“Well hello beautiful,” Glen smiles. Scruff apparent on his face and Texas Longhorns hat on his head.

God, you missed his smile.

He’d been filming something “top secret” for the past few months and you were ready for him to come home.

“How was work today?” you ask, shutting your front door and sliding your purse off your shoulder.

“Same old same old,” he drawls, propping his phone on something in front of him. “How was your day?”

“Kind of the same,” you tell him, sighing when you finally take a seat on the white couch Glen has in his living room. “Nothing fun ever happens.”

“Baby, you work at one of the top hospitals in the world,” he points out with a chuckle. “How can what you deal with be the same as other days?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just didn’t want to make you feel bad for being so far away and not being able to have as much fun as I am.”

Glen laughs, making your heart ache and face crumple in grief.

“Baby?”

“I’m sorry,” you tearfully say. “I just–” You take a deep breath before wiping your eyes and smiling sadly. “I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he tells you. His green eyes turn soft, worry and something else lacing his next words. “What can I do for you right now?”

You sniffle. “Just, distract me? I don’t know.”

Glen sighs, rubbing his temples while he thinks before looking back at the camera and smiling widely.

“What?” you ask.

“What’re you wearing under all of that?” he asks, smirking to himself.

“What?” you laugh this time, disbelief rattling through your body.

“You heard me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, smirk still on his lips. “What’re you wearing under your clothes?”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, pulsing begins to start between your legs and you squeeze your legs shut to get it to stop.

“I have that lacy bra you got me last Christmas–”

“I love that one.”

“And the matching thong,” you finish.

Glen groans, his eyes rolling–obviously thinking about what you look like in them. “I can’t wait to come home.”

“Now your turn, sir.” You watch as Glen’s brows raise slightly before he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m wearing a the same thing,” he jokes, earning him a laugh.

He watches you a for a second, memorizing your sweet face and smile. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed you so much more. not even for the sex, but to be able to be around you, to hold you.

Tears begin to form in his eyes and you quiet down, smile still faint on your lips.

Glen swipes at his eyes before smiling sweetly at you. "I've missed you, beautiful."

"I've missed you too," you tell him. "Just a few more weeks."

"Actually, it'll be less than that." He smiles when your eyes go wide. "We're wrapping early so I'll see you in a few days."

You have to shove the sob down your throat. Excitement and relief wash over you before you close your eyes and open them again with a smile.

He's coming home and soon.

"That's great, baby," you croak.

"I knew you'd like that," Glen smiles. "Now, back to that matching lacy set..."

Something small but ugh I love it and him.

#glen powell #fanfic #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you #glen powell fic #glen powell oneshot

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barcaatthemoon · 4 months ago

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housewife || mary earps x reader ||

mary makes a comment about you not doing enough around the house, tipping you over the edge.

"mummy!" dillion cheered as mary walked into the flat. you glanced over the back of the couch to watch as your wife took in the chaotic state of things. you had spent all afternoon loading up the things that absolutely had to be shipped to france, but waited to pack up other things for mary to get home.

"good evening my little prince." mary bent down and scooped dillion into her arms. you watched her set him down again and push him towards his room, muttering for him to pick out more toys to pack up. "you know, if you're gonna be home all day, you could at least clean up a bit. i don't work myself to the bone to come back to this."

"mary, i'll give you one chance to tell me that you're joking," you told her. mary looked at you incredulously, as if she couldn't believe your audacity. you matched her look, resulting in the two of you just staring at each other for a couple of minutes.

"i don't want to fight with dillion here," mary told you. it wasn't a resolution by any means. in fact, it was your warning that this was going to sit and simmer with mary for the rest of the week.

whenever you had met mary, you had lived a very different life. you worked for a big company as a marketing advisor. the lionesses had hired you for help, and once you saw mary, it was love at first sight. the two of you hit it off immediately, and within the next year, you were married. you still worked from home sometimes on various little projects, but nothing that would have distracted you from dillion.

he was your son from a previous relationship, and for almost two years, his father had been involved. mary had been very understanding in letting you take time to yourself to figure things out. eventually, she had suggested that you stay home and focus on family. you had been skeptical for this exact reason, but you had agreed anyway. and for years, it worked until it didn't.

you could see the cracks form almost immediately. mary's frustrations with united seeped into your relationship. she was a great wife, but she had grown angry and demanding. at times, you pondered divorce, but no matter how bad it got, you never even mustered up the courage to leave.

"what's with the box?" mary asked as she watched you carry one of the boxes from the hallway closet into the bedroom. most of mary's things were packed away and set to arrive at the new place in france, but you were still sorting through your things. you'd arrive with mary, and then collect the rest of your things when you flew back to england to finish up the last couple of projects you had left.

"i'm unpacking," you told her. mary looked confused, but didn't say anything. you could still see the anger simmering beneath the surface. dillion was tucked away in his bed, fast asleep. you were glad that he could sleep through anything because you had a feeling that mary was going to blow a gasket when you told her your decision. "i don't think that i'm going to france."

mary's phone clattered to the ground. you winced at the sound and knowledge that it was definitely cracked. still, mary made no move towards it. she just stayed frozen in her spot on the bed. mary had cooled down a bit since she had gotten home, and while she wasn't at the point of an apology, she was willing to talk things out with you and try to listen.

"don't be ridiculous, it's a done deal (y/n)." mary was spiraling, and while you wanted to stop it, you knew that you couldn't just give in to her. "i've signed. we talked about this. it's a big step, but i think that we're ready. dillion is so excited."

"mary, i've been trying so hard, but i can't. things were supposed to be different when you signed to a new club, but they won't be. this rough patch, it's not getting better like i thought. maybe we should take some time apart," you told her. mary's eyebrows furrowed and she sat up on her knees to crawl to the edge of the bed. "i think i'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight."

"no, please don't," mary pleaded with you. she followed you into the living room, where you had obviously done some unpacking after putting dillion to bed. "you're serious, aren't you?"

"yes mary, i am. some days, you're exactly the woman that i fell in love with, but most of the time, i don't recognize you. you're angry, and i get that it sucks, but you can't take it out on me."

"i would never take my anger out on you, never," mary said. she tried to move towards you, but you put your hand on her chest to stop her. "(y/n), i've never laid a finger on you. i wouldn't, no matter what."

"not physically mary. i spent all day moving your things around and making sure that everything was packed up correctly. i did all of this with a hyperactive four year old who is struggling to work through his french workbooks. not to mention that i'm also trying to learn this language for you because i know that maybe if i have a head start, i can help you too. i've been doing so much for so long, but all you can ever do when you're here is lay around and complain. i'm done, i won't live like this!"

the look in mary's eyes was nothing short of regret. she crumpled down to her knees, and if it was anyone else, you would have brushed it off as a performance. because it was mary, you just watched as the guilt took over and she began sobbing. the anger turned inward, and mary donned a look that you hadn't seen in years, not since you had nearly broken up before.

"go up to bed. i'll be back," mary told you. she stood up and began to walk towards the door, pausing when she was behind you. "i love you, don't forget that. i love you, i'm sorry, and i don't know what i'd do without you and dillion in my life. if i'm out of the house when he wakes up, tell him i love him too, okay?"

"mary, where are you going?" you asked her.

"for a walk love, go up to bed," mary told you. she didn't move until you were gone, but you could hear the front door shut from the bedroom. this wasn't by any means the night you had envisioned for yourself when you woke up that morning, but you knew that your relationship needed some space. all you could do was hope that you'd see mary in the morning when you woke up.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #mary earps imagine #mary earps x reader

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mortytheestallion · 10 months ago

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let the light in

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, sex pollen, unprotected sex PIV, angst if you squint, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), rick being kinda mean, this fic is 18+ minors dni

A/N: this was a fucking beast of a fic i've been trying to wrangle for months. based on this ask

>> Come over.

>> Emergency.

> real emergency? or morty didn’t like your vat of acid emergency?

>> I’m not gonna ask again.

Rick usually enjoys messing with you too much. He’ll beat around the bush as long as he can because it drives you insane. He loves to dangle the unknown in front of you for as long as possible, right up until you just can’t take it anymore.

You don’t bother to rush over anymore. You used to fall all over your apartment, scrambling to find your keys amidst paperwork and weekly takeout. Cursing and throwing piles of clothes everywhere, just for them to be sitting nicely on the hook you never use.

Only for Rick to need the screwdriver two feet to the left of him.

“It’s important I don’t get distracted,” He would grumble at your obvious frustration, a self-important thank you as you hand it over and he sends you back on your way.

Asshole.

Or the time he’d let Morty’s ointment sit too long, and you had to help wrangle him back home. You seemed to be the only one who got bit, however, as Rick made it away unscathed. Typical.

You let out a sigh, uneasiness settles like a stone deep within the pit of your stomach.

You don’t have time to look up from your phone before a portal appears in the corner of your room. You pause for a moment, taking in the green glow and slight pulsing sound. It must really be an emergency if he couldn’t even wait for you to make the drive. It wasn’t long by any means, but you can’t ever remember a time he’s gone out of his way to portal you over.

Slight annoyance runs through you at the convenience he’s withheld from you all this time, but you push it away. This must be urgent. That doesn’t stop you from lacing up your shoes, slowly rising to meet the portal before the familiar falling sensation hits. You still haven’t gotten used to it.

The garage is dark, save for something that glows blue in the corner. It's not lost on you that the house’s defense barricades are currently in place.

Rick’s sitting low on the chair he keeps at his workbench. Slouched as he braces his arms against his knees, long legs splayed open.

His hair is even more unruly than normal. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, and dried blood that mars his lower lip. His usual look of boredom adorns his face, yet the slight twitch of his lips betrays his cool demeanor as he looks you up and down.

Your instinct is to shrink away from him, but you hold Rick’s gaze. His signature lab coat is missing, his blue longsleeve is riddled with holes and burn marks. More dried blood makes it cling to his right side, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. His long legs are spread wide as he casually lounges there, he looks much more broad than usual.

“Are you okay?” Your breath catches, “I mean, is everything okay?” You curse yourself at the way your voice quivers under his unrelenting gaze. You hate that he has this effect on you.

“I got hit on Gearworld-” Rick pauses, as if weighing whether or not to divulge more information, “Idiots are testing bioweapons on non-gear life forms.” His brow quicks at your panicked expression, he lazily holds one hand up to signal he’s going to continue.

“I know this isn’t —uh, what you imagine when you slip those pretty little fingers into your pants at night, but I really need your help.”

Your eyes go wide at his request. Sure you’ve helped him on all kinds of different planets in all different kinds of ways, but never anything like this. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck at the implications of what he’s asking. You can’t help but bite your lip, it doesn’t slip past you how Rick’s hips buck in response to the small action.

You can’t find the words. Why now? Why me?

“Now—now or never, baby,” His voice breaks your trance, “I got a fucking problem here and if you’re not into it don’t— I’m gonna take care of this myself.”

“Why me?” You bite your lip, suddenly shy as you shift your weight. He lets out a groan, his spare hand dragging across his face in annoyance. Always the drama queen.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” You’re locked in a stalemate. His chest is heaving from whatever they’ve injected him with, although you have a pretty good idea by now. He looks at you like he’s hungry. It makes you lose your train of thought. He lets out a groan and a soft fuck. Pleasure shoots down your back and settles down deep in your spine, it makes you shudder.

““You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the way you ogle me? I had to pull you out of an alien hole for god's sake, because you were too busy watching me instead of doing what I told you.”

“You’re such a dick!” Embarrassment washes over you like a flood. The blood rushing through your ears is so loud as it carries the thump thump thump of your heart.

It’s so Rick to have known about your feelings before you did. Part of you wishes you could crawl inside your apartment and never leave again. You’d just have to get used to the 24 DVDs piled against the TV, and apparently salisbury steaks are back. You could make that work.

“Yeah I’m a dick with a problem so either get riding or get the fuck out.”

Fuck he’s mean. You hate that it turns you on. You like to think that under different, less dire circumstances he’d be nicer. You know he cares for you, he wouldn’t keep you around if he didn’t. It’s so sick. You’re watching him get better, be better, and yet he seems to revert back just when you need him the most.

You take a step toward him and he’s on you, instantly. His shoulders drop as rushes to get his hands on you. He huffs rucking your pants down your thighs. You kick your pants off the rest of the way, watching as he wastes no time to rip your lacy underwear off your body.

“Fuck it feels good to do that for real,” you quirk an eyebrow at his statement, but he ignores you in favor of sucking a bruise where your hip meets your thigh. His other hand trails upward, tugging on your shirt to indicate he wants it off. You comply quickly, letting out a soft moan as he bites the tender flesh spot he’s been nursing below you.

Rick always runs warm, handprints burning into your skin as he grips any piece of you he can get his hand on. You whine at the loss of contact as he uses his workbench you’re pressed against as leverage to bring himself back up to your level.

You squirm underneath him, the press of the cool metal against your back combined with his rough clothes against your front proves overwhelming as he takes your face into his hands.

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning.

You go limp against him, allowing him to lick into the wet cup of your mouth. The metallic taste floods your mouth, he’s kissing you so hard his lip resplit. You can feel yourself clench around nothing as you bite it and he groans.

His face is rougher, you realize, more than you imagined. Stubble rubbing against you as he makes his way down your neck sucking and biting. You can’t help the mewls coming from your mouth that he elicits, you can tell it’s fueling his ego as huffs below you.

His sweater itches against you, but the burn only fuels the arousal as it pools within your core, you whimper as his hand brushes against your front. Your soft sounds egg him on as he returns to your mouth, he gives your lip a rough tug with his teeth before plunging back in with his tongue.

Rick had always been rough with you, this was something else though. He shoves a knee between your thighs, groaning at how warm you feel against him. One hand reaches around to grip the back of your neck as the other catches the back of your thigh to bring your leg around his hip.

He grinds against you this way, holding you so tight you worry you might break in half. You sigh against him, desperate for any contact that allows pleasure to ripple through you as the rough material of his pants continues to catch against your clit.

Affection from Rick was so rare, you continue to drink in this feeling, relishing in being special enough to have him give you so much of his attention.

You let out a whine as he breaks the kiss, upset at the loss of contact. He sucks air in through his teeth as he leans back, taking a moment as his eyes rake over your body. You take this as an opportunity to explore him with your hands, taught skin supported by firm muscle bounces back against your fingers.

You don’t miss the way he’s straining against his pants, bulge prominent against the khaki adorning his legs.

You take the natural pause as an opportunity to push his sweater up indicating you want it off, he wastes no time to fulfill your request as he rips it from his body in the blink of an eye. Goosebumps raise on his skin as his bare form meets the cool air, Rick presses himself back against you seeking your warmth.

“Are you gonna fuck me, or-or are you just gonna—oh!” You squeal as he tweaks your nipple in warning, he gives into your request, nonetheless. You feel a slender finger drag down the length of your body. You lean forward to capture the corner of his jaw, biting softly to busy yourself as you wait for him to touch you.

Your heart leaps, a shudder makes its way down your spine as his fingers catch on your clit, giving his attention to where you need it the most. You’re already wet and warm for him, a low groan escapes his throat as he feels you.

He nudges a long finger between your folds, drinking in the sounds it pulls from you. He watches your expression intensely, the slightest indication of pleasure spurring him on as he seeks your validation.

You can tell he’s holding himself back, sweat beads along his hairline as he’s lost deep in getting you off. You wish you could reach out and smooth his furrowed brow, but you’re cockdumb on his fingers alone. You always thought it would be good with Rick, but you didn’t know it would be this good.

You buck into his hand as the arousal floods deep within the pit of your stomach, it's almost overwhelming how electric his touch feels.

He shifts underneath you, attacking the soft spot above your collarbone as he sucks the flesh tender. He removes his finger from your clit, choosing to run it through your soft slit instead. You moan loudly at the sudden shift in contact, he grunts in response, releasing your shoulder from his bite.

You open your eyes as he removes his hand, sucking in a breath as he brings it to his mouth and sucks.

You gush as he moans around his fingers, the sound vibrating through his chest as you watch him savor you. He releases them with a pop, a strand of salvia linking them back to his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate as he pushes those fingers into you, and you jolt at the sudden contact.

Your fingers are gripping the workbench so tight you’re sure if you looked down they’d be white. Your back arches as his fingers slide in easily to the knuckle.

“Is this what you wanted?” He murmurs, but you know he wouldn’t hear the answer even if you had one to offer him, eyes half mast watching his fingers pump in and out of the tight channel of your pussy. He slips another finger into you, and your arms give out at the wave of pleasure that assaults your senses.

Every muscle in your body tightens as he angles his hand so the flat edge of his palm can press against your clit. He continues to curl his fingers against the spongy piece inside you, focusing on how your cunt pulses slick and hot against him.

“Fuck– Rick, I-I might, I’m gonna—” He can barely hear you, too distracted by the lewd he elicits out of you. There’s sweat beading along your hairline, he can feel your lowering muscles spasming as he twists and scissors his fingers.

He picks up the pace, you can feel yourself dripping against his hand, clenching as your orgasm rapidly approaches. He moans as you grip his forearm, nails digging into the muscle.

“Fuck!” You cry out as he fucks his fingers up, he twists his hand to press circles against your clit and you scream. You clench hard around him in soft, hurried spasms that make him choke on the groan he was about to let slip. He feels the rush of liquid that flows out of you as you burst across his knuckles.

He watches as you arch off of his workbench, shuddering as he pulls pleasure out of you in waves. He thinks he could come in his pants from this alone, the pollen coursing through his veins making him lightheaded. His skin is too tight for his body, limbs feeling as though he’s moving through molasses.

Every time you touch him feels like a douse of cool water. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that makes his vision blur. He wants to bring you closer, he’d bury himself inside of you, carve himself deep within your chest if he could. Every cell within his body is screaming, urging him to lick and suck and devour you.

“I can’t– I’m not gonna be able to be gentle with you,” you peer up at him, eyes wet from the intensity of your orgasm, “I won’t be able to take it slow.”

You swallow, eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze.

“Do you think it’ll fit?”

He barks out a laugh before curling his fingers you didn’t realize were still inside you. You cringe, at both the tender feeling and the loud squelch that emits from below you.

“Yeah, yeah sweetie, it’s gonna fucking fit,” Rick wastes no time undoing his belt, wolfish grin ghosting his lips. He lets out a deep moan and fuck as he pulls himself out.

You can’t help the noise you make at the sight of it, he’s thick and leaking. You wish you had more time, you’d love to take him in your mouth and make him see god. You take him in your hand instead, brushing your thumb along the top of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it. He thrusts into your grip impatiently, your fingertips catching every ridge and crevice along his length.

You gasp as a calloused hand reaches up in one swift movement to grab your throat.

He enters you with one swift movement, pushing your legs up to get a better angle, ignoring the way you groan as your back hits the wall.

You ignore the pain, blooming for him—sucking him in with your molten heat that nearly blinds him. You want to make it good for him. You want him to know that you can be good for him. You want him to come back after a particularly rough day and bend you over his work bench, or call you in the middle of the night purring for you.

“Fuck, Rick, oh my god,” your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. He responds with a heavy slap to your ass that lurches you backward, almost off of him before he slams back into you. His strokes are deliberate and powerful, he fucks you so hard he can hear it.

He fucks and fucks you, every slam of his hips making your lashes flutter. You’re shuddering around him, walls spasming as you cross the line into overstimulation. You let out a strangled cry, your second orgasm hangs in front of your face and you start to push back against him, desperately seeking release.

Rick’s jaw clenches, clicking from an old injury. He’s trying to control himself, but you’re burning hot and tight as all hell. He bites the inside of his cheek as you blossom around his length, throwing his head back as the loud slap slap slap of his hips keeps you dripping on his cock.

You allow yourself to drink in Rick’s distracted state, dragging a soft hand up and down the side of his body, relishing in the way he shudders and gasps at your touch. The idea that he’ll discard you after this, making excuses about not being himself or reacting to the effects of pollen hits you like a truck. It almost sobers you out of your cock-drunk state.

He draws you out of your spiraling with a strained gasp as your fingers find tender flesh, you hesitate before digging into the soft muscle with your nails. It pulls on your heartstrings to willingly inflict pain on him, but any remorse is instantly washed away at the way his dick twitches inside you.

“Sh-shit, do that again,” Comes that dark, gritting baritone as he releases his grip on your legs, choosing instead to wrap a calloused hand around your neck, quickening his pace with sloppy thrusts. Rick lets out an honest to god moan and you clench around him. He pulls out abruptly, and you whine at the loss of contact.

Hurt floods your features, anxiety clawing its way up your chest at the smallest sign of rejection. There's not enough time to ruminate before he’s back on you, sliding to the hilt. You hiss at the return of pressure, pain searing into you. Adjusting around him, you slide your nails down his back. He moans arching into your touch.

“I don’t–,” He’s interrupted as a particularly deep thrust hits something spongy within you and you’re writhing under him. He captures your jaw in his firm grip forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyes.

You look utterly fucked out. Tears leaking from the corners of your eyes make his cock twitch, he’s ready to come but he needs to tell you first. He needs you to know.

“I don’t think you understand just how fucking long— ” Your eyes go wide, “I’ve wanted to hit this hot fucking cunt.”

Each of his words is punctuated with a particularly hard thrust. Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession.

“I know I’ve been a dick lately—”

“Jesus, fuck, Rick, just shut up and fuck me!” You can’t take it anymore, god knows how he’s doing it in his state. Your outburst earns you a hard slap to your ass that he’s holding off the edge of the workbench, whimpering as his fingers dig into the burning flesh. Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you need it to be from him. Not from the Rick with aphrodisiac poison coursing through his veins.

The room is dense with the sound of wet flesh coming together again and again as he takes his thumb and rubs it over your clit in short, quick circles. His cock throbs inside you, you feel your pussy making room for him where you didn’t think possible, allowing him to carve you open and make you his. He grips your hips harder as you try to push away from him, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you. You–you wanted the Rick, baby, I’m gonna make sure it’s worth your while.”

His pace begins to chase something frantic, you writhe under him as he licks a hot stripe up the side of your neck. You’ve been reduced to nothing but high pitched moans, panting and shivering under him. Your pleasure crests until you feel you’ll explode.

And you do. Your vision goes black as your orgasm racks your body and you explode wet– nearly pushing him out of you as you shove the heels of your hands into your eyes because you cannot look at him right now.

“Fuck,” He rasps, “Goddamn, did you— you just– you’re–,” it just melts into a pile of sounds before he’s groaning sinfully, a last, hard thrust before there is the telltale sprouting of warmth within you.

You're drunk on him, absolutely fucked out as your walls still spasm around him. You yelp as he drops you back on the workbench before dropping down to his knees.

He ducks his head to slide the flat of his tongue through your folds, tasting the slick that drips from you. You shudder, clumsy hands tugging his hair, pulling him off you. You manage to prop yourself up on one arm, looking down at him.

“God you’re fucking filthy.” “You like it.”

His chest is heaving, cock rehardening already from where it rests above the waistband of his unzipped pants. It makes you cringe, he must be in so much pain.

If he is, he doesn’t let it show. It's something you’ve always noticed about him, the lengths he goes to hide himself from the world. From you.

He’s given you this, even in his own fucked up way he’s given you this. It makes your heart swell. Worry picks at you from deep in your subconscious, but you push it away for now. You want to give him something back, he knows how you feel but you need him to know.

It’s why you’re sliding off the bench, sinking to your knees as he rises above you.

“Damn, I would’ve fucking injected myself with that shit if I had known it would’ve gotten you here like this, for me,” He’s so fucking smug, stupid smirk gracing his lips as you take him in your mouth. You’ll wipe it off though, prove to him why he chose you.

Make sure he’ll always want to choose you.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez fanfic #rick Sanchez/reader #Rick C-137

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nerdy-novelist017 · 3 months ago

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Apologies (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader pt 6)

Ahhh don't come at me for the lack of updates lately! 😅 I've been so distracted with watching the Olympics and my job. I'm not meant to work a ful-time job, your honor. I just wanna write silly fanfics all day and read all night pls and thanks ! Anyway, enjoy! 🩷

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.4k+

Summary- The last person you expect to be there to dry your tears is that stubbornly persistent biker of yours.

******

Pete never showed up to your fundraiser. You had waited the whole afternoon in the hopes that you’d see him, but he wasn’t there for your event. He wasn’t there for the bake sale, or the picnic. He didn’t even show up for the auction which you were sure he’d be interested in that since one of the items to be sold was an expensive golf club set. He must have had other plans, you tried to tell yourself. He must have been too busy.

You hadn’t seen Benny after that either, but you tried to find that as more of a relief than disappointment, after all, he was the reason you and Pete had a bit of a disagreement anyway. Part of you wondered if he only showed up for your tent since you hadn’t seen him anywhere else at the charity afterwards. Regardless, the hours passed at the picnic and you eventually helped everyone pack up before you left too, riding home on your bicycle. You tried to call Pete when you made it home, but his mother answered and told you he wasn’t home. You asked her to have him call you when he could. You ate dinner with your family and tried to not look too hopeful every time the phone rang because it was never Pete calling you back. You expected to go to bed with a sense of dejection, but instead you were surprised to feel something closer to . . . relief.

So the next two days went by quickly. You were too busy with work and household chores to notice that Pete hadn’t called you back. It was only when you had gotten up early to start on breakfast on the third day that he finally did ring you.

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you much,” he told you over the phone. “I miss you.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you were busy,” you mumbled as you stirred the pancake batter, phone receiver balancing precariously between your cheek and shoulder.

“I want to see you this weekend. I can pick you up around noon on Saturday if you’re free.”

You agreed a bit reluctantly, but he didn’t seem to catch it.

******

“Oh, are you going to teach me to golf?” you asked excitedly as Pete pulled into the country club parking lot. He’d been quiet to tell you where it was that he was taking you today, but you wanted to trust the spontaneity of the moment so you let him drive you to the mystery location. Out of all the places he could have surprised you with, this certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Part of you was confused because you hadn’t expressed a particular fondness for the sport, but another part of you felt warmth that he wanted to share his hobby with you.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like to join me and the boys today.” He smiled at you as you both exited the car. “Sit in the cart and look pretty while you cheer us on.”

Oh. So he wasn’t even teaching you his hobby. You wanted to say something back, to tell him that you were willing to learn if he taught you, but his friends came over then, interrupting your chance to speak. Pete introduced you to them, five in total and you struggled to remember their names. But it didn’t matter much since all chances of you speaking were thrown out the window when they bear hugged each other, and turned to go out onto the field. You followed behind, quietly trying to find a place in their obviously-tight friend group. And that’s how you spent the next three hours: awkwardly existing in their world, sitting on the cart and watching them play. You were the only girl, and it was clear that they didn’t know how to involve you much in their conversations. And when you were able to pull Pete to the side for a moment, you asked if he could let you take a swing once, just to try it out. He nodded but said, “Well, maybe in the next game, this one I’ve got a bet on and every shot counts.” You didn’t ask again.

Even though you were still technically spending time with him, this didn’t feel in any way fun or exciting. You tried not to, but your mind drifted to your night spent at the bar with Benny and how fun that was, despite it being a bar full of bikers – a scenario you would have never thought you’d be in, let alone enjoy. As you sat in the golf cart, having nothing better to do than to watch Pete with his friends, you wondered if this was all he wanted you for. Were you really just a doll to him? A trophy? You didn’t get to play?

After the next game ended, you asked Pete if he could take you somewhere for lunch and he seemed almost reluctant to leave his friends. But in the end, he did agree, and you said goodbye to the band of golfers. You walked back to the parking lot together and when you spotted his car in the distance, you figured this was your chance to actually talk with him, not just listen to him speak.

“What do you want out of life, Pete?” you asked quietly as you slowed to a stop on the sidewalk.

“What?” He paused a few paces ahead of you, glancing back. “What kind of question is that?”

“I mean,” you struggled to gather your jumbled thoughts. “What kind of life do you want?”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “Well, I’m going to school for engineering so I’m going to do that.”

You waited for him to continue, but he just shrugged and motioned for the car. “You coming?”

Not seeing the conversation over quite yet, your feet remained firmly planted in your spot. “But what do you want out of life? What do you want for me in your life?”

“Geez, (Y/N),” he laughed humorlessly. “Where is this coming from?” His expression darkened suddenly. “Is this because of that dirty biker?”

It was your turn to look confused as you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. “Have you seen him again, hmm?”

“I . . . he was at the fundraiser–”

“What did I tell you?” He asked rhetorically as he closed the distance between you. “I don’t want you around that deadbeat again.”

“It wasn’t like I sought him out,” you defended, trying to ignore the rush of agitation at his choice of description. “I had no clue he would be there. I thought you were going to be there.”

“Well, I couldn’t be. You can’t just expect me to drop everything for you at such a late notice.”

“What was more important that you needed to be at?” You frowned.

He rolled his eyes, turning back to the car. “I have my own life.”

That’s when you realized that he was so . . . disconnected, uninterested. He may have wanted you but not in the way of getting to know you. His want was selfish, only born out of lust. He didn’t care about your hobbies or interests. You weren’t even listened to when you spoke to him. The realization was painfully obvious and you felt like a fool, like he had played you. And maybe he wasn’t even aware of it himself, but you could see it now: he didn’t care for you, not in the way you longed for.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking your head as you watched him approach the driver’s side door. “I know that, but . . . I was just hoping to spend time with you.”

He turned back and threw his arms out dramatically. “I’m spending time with you now, aren't I? Will you just get in the car?”

You took a deep breath, looking down at your shoes. “I think I’m gonna walk home.”

“Are you serious?” His voice grew colder as he yanked open his door. “Because I didn’t go to your bake sale?”

You shook your head. “No, I like walkin’ and I just want some time to think–”

“You’re going off to find that biker, aren’t you?”

“What?” Your gaze shot back up to his. “No, I–”

“I knew this would happen.” He shook his head, an unamused smile flashing on his face. “He’s filling your head with all these dangerous ideas. He’s poisoning you against me. Me.”

“I’m not–”

“Get in the car.” You didn’t realize that it wasn’t a request anymore.

“Pete, I just don’t–”

“Get in the fucking car, (Y/N)!” He shouted, slamming his hand on the roof, and you jumped at the sound.

You stared at him, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. You’d never seen any man act like this, especially not Pete. Panic turned the blood in your veins to ice and you were suddenly painfully aware of just how fast your heart was beating in your chest. Seconds ticked by, and he finally reacted to your speechlessness by rubbing a hand over his face, sighing loudly.

“Look, just get in the car,” he tried again, his voice barely controlled. “We came here together and I don’t want people to talk about how I’m leaving without you, okay?”

No, it wasn’t okay, you wanted to say, but your throat was suddenly too tight to speak. All you could do was stare at this man who you thought you had a pretty good understanding of, who you never thought would raise his voice at you, who would never command you to do something you very obviously denied. You shook your head, hand holding over your chest in an attempt to even out your heart rate.

He called your name, but you turned and forced your legs to walk, to move away from him. You just wanted to get home to the safety of your bedroom. Behind you, you could hear his car door slam shut and the engine whine as it fired up. He drove over to you, nearly hitting the curb as he weaved.

“Fine, walk home then!” he yelled and revved the engine, tires peeling out on the blacktop as he zoomed away.

That’s when the tears started falling. You sucked in a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and a sob choked into it. The sidewalk blurred from the stream of tears but you trudged on, wanting nothing more than to escape the prying eyes of the neighborhood. The action of Pete slamming his hand against the metal proof of his car replayed in your mind and something unpleasant gripped your heart at the realization that what you saw was his reaction to not getting what he wanted the first time. This was supposed to be the exciting moments of you relationship, the time when you were still discovering who each other were. If he could be so easily angered by you now, what would 5 years of marriage look like? What would 10?

And as you approached the intersection, a thought came to you and you felt sick at the possibility that maybe this is what your mother felt before she married your father. And your grandmother before she married your grandmother. Like a chain, these women with hearts and ambitions and dreams all just got married and became something their husbands wanted, lived a dream their husbands had. And maybe that was their dream, but what if it wasn’t yours?

The revving of an engine broke you free from your all-consuming thoughts and fresh fear spiked through you. Was it Pete coming back? But no, you realized. The engine was coming from the gas station you were passing on the corner, and it wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle. The rider pulled up to one of the free parking spots, cutting the engine and kicking out the kickstand. His back was turned to you, but you knew who it was already by the messy blonde hair and signature blue jacket lettered “Vandals” across the shoulder blades. You groaned because he was the last person you wanted to see right now but you needed to walk right by him to continue on your way home. And as ridiculous as it was, you wanted to cry harder at the thought of him seeing you crying.

When he dismounted, you quickened your pace, putting your head down in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice you. But of course, you heard him call out, “Hey, Little Bunny.”

You sniffed hard, quickly swiping your fingers across your cheeks as you heard him approach. Even though you didn’t slow your pace, he caught up to you quickly.

“You walkin’ home again?” His voice was light, teasing but you didn’t dare to look up at him. “You must really like–”

But he must have seen your tear-soaked face because he stopped, his hand gently grasping your upper arm. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, and against your better judgment, you glanced up at him. That was all it took before his shoulders visibly stiffened, and his jaw locked tightly. “Who did this?”

“Nobody,” you muttered softly, voice cracking. “I’m fine.”

“Was it Pete?” his grip remained firm on your arm.

“Please, just leave it alone, Benny,” you whispered desperately, and his eyes softened as he released you. A painfully long beat played out between you as you watched him decide if he wanted to press you further for details. But to your surprise, he dropped it, instead, reaching out, his calloused thumb brushing away a solitary tear from the apple of your cheek. You flinched at the contact, not expecting him to touch you so intimately. As quick as he was to make contact, so was he able to let his hand fall back to his side, leaving you wide-eyed at the act.

“Let me give you a ride home, please,” he asked, his voice so quiet, so compassionate that you were honestly dumbfounded that this was a biker in a notoriously revered club standing before you. “I don’t want you to have to walk back when you’re upset like this.”

You glanced down the sidewalk, knowing you still had a few miles to go before you’d see your house in the distance. You sniffed again, “You won’t try to propose to me again, will you?”

“No strings attached, I promise,” he replied quietly.

You relented, nodding slightly, and you didn’t protest when he slid his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together and gently tugged you back to his bike.

******

Benny drove slowly back to your house, and you just buried your face against his jacket the entire ride, focusing on the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. It gave you time to settle your breathing, to dry your tears, and when he finally did pull up to your house, a disappointed wave surfaced over you. He put both feet down to balance you both, but he didn’t cut the engine, and you didn’t release your arms from around his torso.

“Can we . . . keep going?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of just how patient he was willing to be with you.

“You wanna keep going?” he questioned over his shoulder, and you responded with a brief nod. “Where?”

“Anywhere, just not here.”

He pushed off the ground, revving the engine slightly and the bike picked up speed as you left your neighborhood. You tightened your grip as he drove you out of the city, down the long country roads, past barns and farms, out by the lake and through the winding back roads which cut the woods. He drove until the sun began to make its descent over the far wheat fields, the last warmth of those golden rays catching the two of you like a spotlight, like you were the only two people on stage. And you realized that’s what riding with Benny felt like: solidarity together. You’ve felt a strange sense of loneliness most of your life, even when you were surrounded by others who loved you, but with Benny . . . it was like you were finally being seen. No, not just seen, it was like you were finally being heard.

But reality came back too quickly when Benny pulled up to a stop light, hand moving to brush across yours as he asked, “You ready to go back now or d’you wanna keep going?”

Keep going, your heart wanted to shout, keep going and let’s drive until we hit the sandy beaches of California. But your head always won the battle in the end, and you only nodded mutely.

When Benny pulled up in front of your house again, he cut the engine, but remained seated. He held his hand out for you as you dismounted, and he wanted to say something – anything– to make sure that you were okay, to help you. But Benny’s not known for his good communication skills so he clenched his jaw tightly, frustration building in his chest. You needed him, you needed to be consoled, and he was so pathetic that he wasn’t even sure how.

Sure, he knew how to have someone’s back, especially in a fight. He knew how to throw punches and get back to his feet after getting knocked down. He could do that all day. But you staring at him with your Bambi eyes and heartbroken expression, he couldn’t take it. He just wanted to pull your tiny frame to him and kiss away the tears, to tell you that everything would be okay because he’s got your back. Then a horrible thought clouded his mind because what if he was the reason you were crying? A bitter taste filled his mouth at the possibility. And my god, how stupid could he be because of course he had to dig himself deeper into that hole when he had told you that he wouldn’t apologize for his conversation with your date. At the time he said it, he had no guilt or shame for his actions because he saw nothing wrong with it. He wanted you more than Pete did, he was sure of that. But now as he glanced at your sweet face, he realized that his actions could have hurt you. And all for what – his pride? That seemed so insignificant now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said ever-so-politely.

Before you could turn to walk to your front porch, Benny’s hand reached out to lightly touch your own, and he blurted out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to Pete. That was wrong, and I see that now. I’m sorry if what I did has hurt you in any way, that was never my intention.”

Your frown deepened, and Benny’s heart sank. But then you said, “I’m not upset with you, Benny, but thank you. That . . . that means a lot to me.”

He was at a loss for words, struck by your angelic voice and unwavering benevolence. He could only watch as you slipped from his grasp and turned away. You were walking away from him, but Benny couldn’t help but feel it meant something more than just putting physical distance between you. His mind raced with thoughts, trying to find something he could say to get you to stop, to be able to see your face again.

However, it seemed that fate had other plans because you halted in your tracks, hesitating a moment before spinning back around and approaching him again. He opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, but you cut him off as you leaned up and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. His heart skipped a beat at the gentle touch of your soft lips, and he widened his eyes as you pulled back, a shy smile on your face. He grinned because every time he thought he had you figured out, you continued to pull stunts on him. You were the most entertaining thing he knew.

You took a few steps backwards, but maintained his eye contact as you spoke, “Maybe . . . next time we could go a little faster?”

He knew you were referring to the bike, but God help him because heat burned in his lower belly, and he wanted to pick you up over his shoulder and carry you into your house where he’d show you just what speed he was capable of. He wasn’t sure you even knew what effect your words had on him, or if you even knew the sexual implications, but he felt himself losing a battle of will. “You want there to be a next time?”

You nodded and that adorable rosy color tinted your cheeks. “Yeah, if-if you do.”

He shook his head in disbelief that you were finally giving him a chance. Though looking at your sweet smile now, he didn’t seem to mind the extra effort he had to put in. “You wanna go fast? Look who’s the trouble now.”

You fought to control your smile. “Goodnight, Benny.”

“Night,” he replied as he watched you walk back up the steps to your house, his fingers ghosting over the spot on his cheek that you kissed, wondering if apologies were really that easy.

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love e @ironmooncat @imusicaddict @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twistedunivers5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @pao-prazz @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite

#i'm not super happy with this but yolo #i need to stop being a perfectionist #austin butler #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #imagine #austin butler fandom

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justporo · 1 year ago

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Headcanons about living with Astarion

I thought about some of this lately and since yesterday's warmup got out of hand... (Behold him lounging:)

First things first, if you think living with Astarion will be neat and organised just because he himself always looks put well together: you are in for a surprise

This man - as much as he cares for aesthetics - tends to be messy

Especially since it's been forever that he could actually have and keep stuff, so expect books everywhere, cups left on surfaces, stuff laying around on the floor (and let's be honest, growing up as a noble before didn't teach him anything about being domestic...)

He'll learn though, especially when you reach a point where you could almost throw stuff at him (but he still struggles with it and him buying so many books surely doesn't help)

Astarion is basically cat: lounging everywhere - no surface is safe! Although a comfy sofa or chaiselongue are preferred spots!

Especially when you've sat somewhere and it's still nice and warm and smells of you; "Was that your seat, darling? Well, not anymore!"

But then he would pull you in with a chuckle and have you cuddle up on his lap and also refuse to let you go ("Love, I've only just gotten comfortable, you can't leave now!")

What he lacks in order he makes up with style - to a point it might make your blood boil: "Astarion, please, I couldn't care less if the red of the drapes matches the pillow cases!" "Yes, well, darling - don't take it personally - but I wouldn't have expected you to care anyway." Then he has to dodge several pillows being flung at his head)

Astarion leaves little notes for you to find, like for example if he's gone to run some errands or maybe just because - to tell you he loves you; at some point it kind of becomes a game of him hiding notes somewhere in the house and waiting how long you take to find them - scolding you if you take too long! ("My sweet, a trained donkey would have found it by now! Open your eyes, love, you can't possibly be that distracted by my beautiful face!")

Astarion learns about companionable silence with you - obviously he's very chatty and you love nights just wasted away with talking and joking - about everything and anything; but he also learns how pleasant it can be to just sit there, all cozied up with you and feeling the deep peace of easy silence with you

That or spending some quality time together: him spending time with reading or doing embroidery, you with drawing, also reading or anything else - as long as you're together

At least for a while Astarion really enjoys having a place where he can just... be; obviously this eager little vampire can't sit still forever but he revels in the knowledge of having a place he can always return to, somewhere to be safe and comfy, somewhere he can always be with you

Alright - at least that's how I could very well imagine living with Astarion might be, hihi. This man keeps living in my head - by now I'm sure he's changed my brain chemistry forever, for good...

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #bg3 #headcanons #astarion headcanons #imagine #poro headcanons #astarion x you #astarion fluff

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alchemistc · 5 months ago

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i like your voice in person

Evan's staring at the bed like he's trying to navigate a minefield.

Six months ago that would have sent Tommy on another journey of self-deprecation, a reminder that he'd known Evan wasn't ready for this, known this was a possibility, but Evan, for all his own insecurities, knows what the hell he wants and if he'd felt even an ounce of pressure or remorse up to this point he'd have said something long before now.

Sometimes Evan likes to work it out himself, and sometimes he needs a little nudge, and Tommy watches the head tilt and the angle of his pursed lips for cues as he settles under the sheets.

"Something on your mind?" he prompts, and Evan blinks, like he hadn't realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts.

"Uh...nothing, maybe."

"Sounds like something, probably."

Evan's smile tilts up at one corner, and he settles on the bed a little stiffly. "It's nothing major. Just. Something I've been thinking about?"

He can feel his brows jumping, can see the way Evan takes in the look with a fond expression. Evan steels himself for something -- they're still muddling through past experiences and learning how to be a bit more intentional in some of their conversations, because they both have a bad habit of reverting to flirting and deflection.

"You remember what we talked about last weekend?"

Tommy can genuinely remember about 93 percent of what he and Evan talk about at any given time, which is an astronomically high number and not at all an exaggeration. He'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't have clear evidence that Evan was as deep into this as he was.

They talk a lot, is the thing, about inconsequential shit just as much (definitely more) than the important stuff. They talk far more than Tommy can remember talking in any other relationship he's been in. But Tommy can pinpoint the exact one he means.

"You mean the roles thing."

Evan hadn't been a stranger to a little daddy talk in bed when they started to explore it, and he'd brought it up right at the start for a reason, but Tommy had taken a while to come around to the realization that Evan had sort of internalized the 'I don't have daddy issues' of it all in a way that Tommy hadn't actually meant it. There'd been little things, here and there; like Evan reaching a door before him and then bashfully waiting with it half open like he'd made a misstep; like twisting his mouth a little funny when he snatched the bill from the table before Tommy could get it. Little things.

Things that, in the abstract, yeah, Tommy liked to do for his partners, but in reality weren't actually that big a deal to him.

He'd needed to clear the air.

Evan nods. Curls a hand around his knee before he shifts his body so that he's facing Tommy. "So, I like taking care of people."

(A conversation, a month ago, Evan grimacing around "My therapist says I have to stop calling myself a people pleaser in a derogatory way.")

Tommy hums, something to remind Evan he's listening.

"And I guess I sort of built up this idea in my head that that was like, a hard stop with you."

("Everyone likes being taken care of sometimes, Evan.")

"And I'm not -- I'm not upset at you, or like, feeling guilty, I just -- I've been thinking about it, and I feel like I forgot to ask you how you wanted to be taken care of."

The thing with Evan is that no matter how often he'll deflect with a joke, when he wants to say something serious he's blunt as hell about it. There might be some hemming and hawing to get there but sometimes he says things that just make Tommy wonder if he'd ever actually learned how to say things before Evan.

"I don't really have a list, babe," he says, and then sort of hates himself for it. Deflect, distract, hey baby how about I blow you about all these big feelings inside my chest I can't articulate.

Evan, though, Evan squinches his eyes and runs a heavy hand through his hair. "I...sort of do?"

"Lay it on me."

Evan grins. "That's actually one of the things on my list."

Tommy blinks. Tries to figure out that trail of thought, but he's coming up with nothing. "Okay, can you expand on that?"

"Like --listen, you know I'm a huge fan of being the little spoon. I'd let someone put screws back in my leg just for continued little spoon privileges. But sometimes I miss being the big spoon, and in my head the idea sounded so stupid to bring up but now I'm wondering if, like, maybe I've just been denying you the joy of being the little spoon?"

Tommy thinks of Evan's hands spread big and warm across his belly, of knees tucked up behind his, warm breath on the back of his neck like when Evan stumbles up behind him in the mornings whining about coffee, and maybe he blue screens a bit because he's never actually dated someone so close to his own size, because there's always been an assumption at the outset that he wouldn't want that.

Alex had been a little too into the same dynamic he'd seen Evan stumbling through, and Colin had hated sleeping with someone's flesh touching his own. Beyond that he hadn't really dated anyone long enough to really form a preference.

Maybe Kara might have been willing, back when he'd been closeted enough to pretend it wasn't an effort to get it up when she had his dick in her mouth, but they'd been young enough that staying the night wasn't really a consideration.

"And like -- listen, I don't necessarily prescribe to gender roles as a thing in general, but a few weekends ago I spent like twenty minutes staring at a bouquet of flowers in Trader Joe's and convinced myself you wouldn't like the gesture so I didn't buy them but you have a few vases in your moms old china cabinet and the moment I remembered them I felt stupid for not buying the flowers."

There's something curling tenderly underneath Tommy's ribcage that he's not sure he's ever felt quite like this before. It's not new, exactly, but it seems to be thrumming particularly hard tonight.

Three months in, Tommy had gotten the man-flu from hell, temperatures so high he'd been grounded and sent packing to rest it off, and he'd texted Evan a jumbled mess of barely discernible things when they'd tucked him into the Uber.

Evan and Bobby had made chicken noodle soup at the station and Hen had sent Evan off with a laundry list of things he could do to help drop the fever, and Tommy had spent the duration sulking and glowering and dragging himself out of bed every time Evan had wanted to change the sheets, to keep Tommy as comfortable as he could, but when Evan had caught it four days later he hadn't hesitated to do all the same shit with gusto. Evan hadn't been particularly grateful either, because neither one of them liked being laid up when the world was out there waiting for them, but he'd at least had the grace to not be an asshole about it.

He had, though. Been grateful. A little awestruck, too, at the mere idea of someone so unafraid of just being there through all the moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing, keeping the tissues from piling up on the bedside table and switching out cold packs to the freezer so he always had one ready in case he wanted it. In the clarity of a full day without fever making his brain feel like cotton candy he'd stared down at a sleepily wheezing Evan and known he could absolutely lose his heart to this man.

"Also I don't want to toot my own horn here but I give excellent foot rubs, and I feel like there's about a million other things I've just been -- holding back from doing?"

"Because of the role thing, or because all your stupid exes told you you were needy?"

It's not a night to pull punches. Also Tommy wants to send thank you cards to every single one of them and attach them to boxes with a bark scorpion inside.

"Both," Evan says without a second of hesitation. His smile crinkles at the corners of his mouth, and Tommy is suddenly annoyed with the space between them. When he holds out his hand to tug Evan into him, Evan melts into it for the space of a moment before he pulls back. "I actually kind of desperately want to be the big spoon right now, if that's something you'd be into." Evan had definitely clocked the look on his face when he'd mentioned it, but he's keyed into the way Tommy checks in and reciprocated in kind since the start of this, so.

Tommy peels his glasses off, snags his bookmark to keep his spot in the monstrosity of the Wrangler maintenance manual he'd stopped being cagey about the fifth time Evan caught him flipping through it, and watches Evan settle comfortably into bed next to him. The problem is, Tommy actually isn't sure where to go from there, which is a ridiculous thought to have because Evan hadn't either and he'd figured it out just fine.

"How do you want me, Buckley?"

The roll of his eyes is so bitchy that Tommy has to remind himself that for all his people pleasing attributes, Evan Buckley is, at heart, a huge fucking brat. Evan tugs and twists and maneuvers his arms and Tommy sort of sinks into it, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, draping his leg over one of Evan's when he shifts his knee pointedly, a massive, unruly breath escaping Tommy once they're all done shifting.

"You should absolutely try out the rest of your list," he murmurs into the space where Evan's shoulder meets his neck. "Although you don't need to woo me anymore, I'm actually fully wooed."

Lips against his crown, pressed tightly enough that he can feel the smile against his scalp, Evan chuckles. "You don't know how good my wooing is."

The fingers shifting up and down his arm feel somehow different, from this position, even though Evan has done it a hundred times before from the spot he likes to claim with his head right over Tommy's bleeding, three-sizes-too-big-for-him heart. It's ridiculous, and it shouldn't feel any different, but it does. He wants to be greedy with it, soak it in and then never let Evan do this again because he finally understands the appeal and he doesn't want to deprive Evan that.

"This is nicer than I expected."

Evan's soft laugh ruffles his hair, and Tommy wonders if he's dumb enough to ask Eddie how long he should wait before he can reasonably beg Evan to spend the rest of his life with him.

"Save the reviews for when I actually spoon you. It's gonna rock your world." His hand drifts up, fingers digging into the dimple of Tommy's skull.

The hum in his throat has a mind of it's own, going thin and reedy and --

Evan pauses, and Tommy can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, because this is new information.

To both of them, actually, but Tommy doesn't have time to process it because the fingers on the back of his skull spread and sink deeper, just enough pressure to be more than a glancing ruffle, and Tommy can't quite help the way he tilts his head back into it, or the way he hitches his leg to press his groin a little more firmly to the outside of Evan's thigh.

They're both too tired for it to really mean anything -- both off 48's and a fumbled round in the shower while they were already bone weary -- but Tommy wants the reminder for them both when they wake up in the morning.

He can feel his eyes drooping the longer Evan scrubs his fingers against him, and the thought pops into his head as he's drifting off. He doesn't want it to disappear into the fog, though, so he murmurs it into the soft, warm skin of Evan's neck. "I like camellia's. White ones."

Evan hums, and Tommy just knows that the moment he drops off, Evan will be reaching for his phone to google the language of flowers.

#bucktommy #buck x tommy #bucktommy fic #911 fic #tevan fic #as if shoehorning sportsball into a fic wasn't enough now i've gone and added the language of flowers back into the lexicon #white camellia means 'you're adorable'#but once buck actually finds what he's looking for he ends up ordering a ridiculous bouquet of red camellia baby's breath and red salvia

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atskiruma · 2 years ago

Text

he makes you cry

expl: he doesn't usually care about others' feelings, so how was he supposed to know what he did to you was mean?

a/n: appalled that this is my first time doing my favorite geo boy, appalled and ashamed; also exhausted this might not be my best work, requests sent will be fulfilled soon, i just need some rest! just got hired at a job that i went for an interview with today, so work will slowly be coming out later and later, sorry!

ask me anything

masterlist

second-person writing no pronouns used, 2,818 words

Xiao was not fond of caring about others' emotions, nor did it ever occur to him that he should care. He tried to keep his life as simple and as peaceful as possible because he deserved it after everything he went through before. Which was why he was so confused when someone would cry in front of him. Xiao never cried when times were hard, what made those salty tears escape human eyes so easily?

Most of the time, he never saw people cry, and if he did, he ignored it. That's how he was taught to deal with emotion, he'd ignore it.

It began when you were up in your room at the Inn, minding your business and trying to figure out how to make the woven bracelet that the Traveler had taught you. Frankly, it was pretty difficult, and when the Traveler was teaching you, you were so busy watching them that you never actually learned.

The hours were beginning to fly by and you could hardly make out the original pattern you were trying to replicate. Repeated failures over and over and piling yarn began to stack up on the bed next to you. It was when you had finally gotten it down to only mess up again because something distracted you was when you finally snapped.

Throwing the bracelet across the room where it rested under the table, streams of hot tears began to roll down your cheeks in frustration. You were doing everything right, why wasn't it working!

It happened to be the same time you were leaving your room when Xiao was strolling down the hallway. The two of you made eye contact and his eyes flew to where the tears were running toward the bottom of your neck. His eyes widened only a little bit and his mouth opened and closed like a fish only to not know what to say.

You also stood still and stared at him. Why? Maybe you were just waiting for him to comfort you or you were curious about what he had to say. But when it was clear that he'd keep gapping like a fish, you started to walk off again. Only for him to grab your wrist before you made it too far and pull you a bit toward him.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice, hardly making eye contact with you and finding his shoes on the floor more entertaining. It was shocking to see him show such concern in general, but you remembered why you were upset and started to ball again. Pushing yourself into his chest and crying warm tears into his shirt.

His hands fumbled on the sides of you for a while until he rested them softly on your hips. Awkwardly patting you in a form of reassurance he'd never shown anyone before.

His face was pretty flat when you began to show signs of distress and sadness. Albedo was too focused on his experiment to even realize that something went wrong on your end. The sound of a beaker crashing to the floor sounded across the room, but he still kept looking forward, hardly hearing anything at all.

That sound kept up for a while, you were pretty sure you broke at least 5 beakers in the time it took for you to get them from the spare cabinet. It wasn't until the 6th beaker that you managed to catch did Albedo actually turn around to see what had happened.

His experiment seemed to be going fine, the color of the liquid sitting at the bottom of the beaker matching the picture right next to it perfectly. You sighed when you saw he had already beaten you to make the antidote.

"I don't know how you do it 'bedo. This one is probably the most difficult I've done." You said before wiping your forehead which was littered with sweat from how hard you'd been concentrating.

"Just try again, I'm sure you'll be able to complete it." He said, his encouraging words going little to no length and falling straight to the floor. It didn't help that the trashcan full of your previous broken beakers was so close. It was extremely discouraging to see how much damage you've caused just trying to learn how to brew the antidote.

Then Albedo took his leave, putting his things down when he realized the clock read 9 PM. Bidding you goodbye, he looked back one last time with his handle on the doorknob and spoke. "Humans sometimes do not carry the skill to complete such a difficult task, do not push yourself to do something you simply can't achieve."

And then the door shut. All you did was stare at where he previously had been, his words repeating in an endless loop shrinking infinitely into your mind.

"Huh?" Was all you said before a warm feeling rushed down your cheeks and landed on the toe of your shoes. Did he just call me stupid? You thought to yourself. The frustration you felt along with the fact that he just said that, caused a rush of salty tears to leave your eyes. Your eyelashes stuck together as tears mended them together.

You continued to stand there and cry, until the door opened again and the alchemist stuck his head back in the door, announcing he forgot something towards the floor. That was until he lifted his head up to see you standing there, crying. For once, he stood still and just stared at you unable to conjure any words for the scene he was witnessing.

The sniffles and the silent sounds of tears padding the floor were all that was making sound in the room. As Albedo continued to stare at you like the two of you were playing a game of freeze tag.

"I'm stupid aren't I 'bedo?" You said, which made him flinch when the sound of the nickname you gave him came out in a harsh and rude manner. "Too stupid to figure out the dumb potion because I'm just a mere human in your eyes."

"What're you talking about?" He said, with the quietest and most emotion-full voice you've ever heard him use. Albedo continued to step closer to you, almost as if he was never moving at all. When he finally did reach you, his hand brushed against your cheek and his eyes held so much concern it could fill up the sea.

"I don't think you're lesser than me, is this about what I said? I didn't mean it like that..."

You kept sniffling while looking at him, still stubborn for more than what he was giving you. His arms reached around you and held you close, something he often did when Klee would sob, which he learned from Jean.

The two of you stood like that for a while, until the blazing sun rested its eyes in the distance, and the sorrowful moon began to creep up the valley.

"What is wrong with you??" Tighnari's harsh voice came out in a way you only heard once in a while. His irritated look glared at you from where you stood, all you had done was knock down a few books, but it looked like other things were really beginning to upset him.

You expected to greet the forest ranger and spend some time together, seeing as the both of you made those plans a while ago, but it seems that he was really busy with something that he was supposed to finish a while ago.

He whipped his head back to look at the beakers on the table, making a very loud and audible sigh at your appearance here. "I'm busy, so make another time for..." He waved his hands around dramatically and quick, "Whatever it was you were planning and leave me be."

You stood silent for a while, shocked that he was giving you such an attitude, but at the same time, you had no idea how to respond to what he said. So, you did just that and didn't respond, turning on your heels and leaving. Unfortunately, Tighnari didn't hear you leave and assumed you were still sitting there waiting for him like usual. So when he turned around and opened his mouth to address you and apologize, he stopped in his tracks to see you weren't there.

When you saw Tighnari again, it was actually just his voice you had heard and your eyes didn't flicker to see if it was actually him. Collei was holding some sort of dinner for the forest rangers in the area, to both thank them and congratulate her for beating Eleazar. But you finally did see him when it was too late, and you were bumping into the forest ranger with food in your hands.

A shocked gasp came out of your mouth till the echoed noise of a bowl rumbled onto the ground and crashed down, the food flying along with it. Your distressed state increased, and you immediately flew down to try and clean it up.

In fact, you were so busy trying to clean the bowl of food that had spilled over that you didn't even realize the forest ranger was standing behind you with his hands behind his back. Until the call of your name was repeated for the 3rd time, did you turn around to look at him, tears in your eyes from how frustrated you were?

Tighnari's eyes widened before he immediately dropped to his knees and put his hand on your shoulder for comfort. It shocked him to see you in such a vulnerable state, especially with how cheery you always seemed around him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Tighnari said, before moving his eyes down to the food splattered all over the dirt. You didn't even realize how much helping out at the party would stress you out. As soon as Tighnari muttered the words are you alright, tears flooded out more and more as you tried to hide your face in your hands. Your shoulders and body shook with how much you were crying. Tighnari moved closer to you and shielded you with his body.

Not only did he treat you terribly before, but the first time he sees you in days, you were crying? His heart felt like it could break then and there. His hand came around your back to soothingly rub circles on it while you continued to sob. His ears even flattened a bit on his head in guilt.

When Collei had come around the corner to see the pasta salad splattered on the ground, and Tighnari hugging you with his tail between his legs. She smiled and sighed a bit, before walking away to leave you two be.

It felt like a long time while the two of you sat like that, his hand never stopping to rub your back. You finally pulled away to look at him and Tighnari rested his hand on your cheek in a comforting manner.

"I'm sorry I treated you like that, I was irritated and you came in at a bad time. I never want to hurt you." His guilt-written face and ears practically flattened to his head making your heart beat in a painful rhythm.

"You can make it up to me by helping me clean this up?" You said as a sly grin grew a little bit on your face. He smiled back and rolled up his sleeves to begin cleaning.

Scaramouche was a mean boy, everyone knew that he had no filter and he acted as if he didn't care about anyone when in reality it was the exact opposite.

"You're pathetic!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, looking at your shocked expression and stance from across the room. You had just failed to do the task that Nahida assigned you again, and it seemed like the newly-found anemo holder was growing more and more impatient watching you fail over and over.

"Excuse me?" You spat back, clearly irritated with his outburst and pushiness. Scaramouche scoffed again before trailing over to where you were, Nahida watching the interaction from her desk.

"You've been doing it all wrong, and that pathetic idiot brain can't seem to comprehend that." His fingers flew a swift flick to your head, pushing you back a centimeter. "If you keep failing, shouldn't you be trying something else instead of pushing the same solution over and over? Moron."

His insults over and over were hurting, sure, but you were used to it. When you felt good. Right now, this was the last thing you needed after failing again and again. At one point you even glanced over at Nahida after failing and saw her face look a bit reluctant about your skills. Which increased your anxiety tenfold.

"I never knew someone could be so stupid. I even worked with morons every day in the Fatui, but none match up to how idiotic you are." Scaramouche just kept blasting insult after insult at you. What was with him today? Was he really that peeved you didn't wait for him in the morning to walk over here?

Moving aside and putting your hands up defensively, you made way for the prince and his smart brain. He moved in front of you and began looking down at what you were doing. It looked like Nahida was still working with you on Fermat's Last Theorem, which was an extremely difficult math equation, back in the 17th century. Scaramouche made a noticeable eye roll before sitting down to begin writing out how to solve it.

What he didn't see was your reaction to the last flinching insult he threw your way. He didn't witness the tears swell up in your eyes and he also didn't see you walk away and leave the sanctuary. Only witnessing your presence gone when he looked up to turn another sarcastic comment towards you. Scaramouche's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before looking around him to see where you went. He turned towards Nahida when he couldn't find you and she looked up at him before looking back down at her papers.

"Tsk, whatever." He pushed his seat back and sat up to leave, wondering what he should have for dinner instead of concerning himself with where you went. It wasn't until later in the evening when he saw you again, sitting back at the desk, not uttering an obnoxious sigh or an irritating "What does this mean??"

He eased himself over to you with his hands in his pockets before leaning behind your shoulder to see what you were doing. You were working on the problem again, but his copy of it was nowhere to be seen, that is until he looked towards the trash and saw his handwriting on the paper barely crumpled and resting near the top of the bin.

"You threw away my paper?" He said with irritation lining every letter. You kept writing though and paid him no mind. The silent treatment seemed to be really riling him up because he continued to berate you over and over as you sat there taking it and continuing to work.

It was only an hour later that it really started to bother him with you being quiet. Maybe what he said earlier was too harsh, he didn't really feel that bad, but if it meant you weren't going to speak to him then he had to do something.

Leaning over you again, he placed his hand on your upper arm, grabbing your attention from the unusual act. His eyes met yours and held the stare for a couple seconds before he spoke,

"I'm sorry." That was all he said.

You raised an eyebrow at him, before squinting your eyes in confusion and responding.

"Sorry for what..?" The sarcasm dripped from every syllable and landed on his fragile ego.

His eyes widened and he took his hand from your arm, frowning and shouting back,

"I don't repeat myself! Accept the apology I gave you."

"You're such a child, does saying sorry really hurt that bad?"

"You heard me!"

Your eyes rolled and you turned back to your paper as if you were going back to ignoring him, his eyes softened again and he grabbed your arm once more.

"I'm sorry I said those mean words to you. I didn't mean it, I don't like it when you leave without me and I don't like it when you're upset."

When he grabbed your arm, you didn't turn to face him again, but after hearing the words he spoke, you turned again with a smile on your face and leaned closer to his.

The blush was evidently growing the more you leaned in, and you could see his adam's apple bob with nervousness.

"I accept your apology Kunikuzushi."

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #albedo x reader #albedo imagines #tighnari x reader #tighnari imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche imagines #atskiruma

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luveline · 1 year ago

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hi lovely jade!! I had an idea for a request: reader who’s pretty independent who hurt her back working out and now can’t walk/shower/etc on her own for a few days x any of the marauders (I really do love them all and especially the way you write them. you can also make this poly!marauders if you feel so inclined).

this is definitely self indulgent, so please feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t do the creative trick.

thank you for sharing your lovely writing with us and being lovely overall!

sending so many hugs to you!!

hi honey, thank u for requesting!! hope u get better soon <3

the boys take care of you when you hurt yourself. fem, 1.2k

You wake in Sirius’ bed with James curled over you protectively. This is not unusual. What is strange is that Sirius seems to have already gotten up for the day, his sleep shirt thrown in a crumpled mess at your feet and his phone off the charger. You scrub at your tired eyes and consider going to look for him, figuring he's probably in the den (or office, depending on which boy you ask), but your back gives a twinge, and then a throb, and you remember the night before.

You rub James’ arm and push it off of your chest, preparing mentally for the pain. You've tweaked it a few times in the past, the next day always being worse than the actual time of injury, and yet the pain you're met with is instantaneously disarming.

“Ow,” you can't help but whine, trying to bend forward away from the pain, and finding you can't manage that, either. You gasp as heat races up your spine and across your shoulders, everywhere and nowhere, like the press of a hot hand.

James mumbles, “What's the matter?” with his head still buried in the pillows.

“James, I think I've really hurt myself.” Tears squeeze so quickly out of the corners of your eyes that you don't have time to recognise the heat of them. Other sensations are more pressing.

You don't know if he's looking at you, but you can feel his careful touch working its way up his arm, and hear the ruffle of the sheets as he gets up. “What?” he asks, his voice stretched with the early hour.

“Last night, when we were lifting, I– I pulled my shoulder and I thought it would–” You make a strangled sound. “It's really bad, what do I do?”

“Woah, woah, don't panic!” He leans in, your blurry view suddenly filled with his gentle face.

James soothes it from there, so to speak. He shushes you softly when you start to sob and helps you lay back down, wiping your tears, not a lick of panic about him. “It's okay, it's okay,” he murmurs, “does that feel better?”

It's better flat, but not gone. “I can't sit up.”

“That's okay,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips, where he kisses your fingers.

He waits for you to calm down before grabbing his phone from his room. It's much later in the day than you'd thought, and Sirius will be working his afternoon shift, while Remus could be anywhere. He likes to write in cafes or parks, somewhere away from the hubbub of the house, lest he be distracted, waylaid with kisses, or pestered into helping make dinner or do laundry or whatever needs doing that day.

“Hey,” James says, hushed, “you okay? Mm… can you come home?” A startled question that betrays the first recipient, Remus’ rasp on the line. “Yeah, I'm fine, it's our little gym rat sweetheart, she's strained her back, she's a bit upset… No, not yet. You think she'll let me?”

“I'm not going to the doctor’s,” you call to him. James smiles at you from the door.

“We’ll see,” he shoots back. “Yep yep. Okay. Well, he's in work… Okay. Yeah, okay. Love you, see you in a bit.”

“What can he do?” you ask. “You should've left him.”

“Same thing as me.” He runs his hands through his hair. It's a little too long again, dark and thick, curled at the base of his neck with flicks behind his ears, though it's short compared to Sirius’ mess. When he drops his arms, the noon time sunshine kisses his brown skin with a gorgeous warmth, and emphasises the lines of veins where they run up his arms. “You look like you're in agony,” he says, covering his mouth with a hand. “Is it really that bad?”

You nod miserably.

He sits next to you carefully, but now you've awoken your pain it won't sleep, and each millilitre of the mattress's distension prompts a new layer of aching. “Sorry,” he says, sounding like he could cry for you, “why didn't you tell me last night?”

James wraps his arms around you in a strange way, trying not to jostle you as he leans down to touch his nose to your forehead.

“I didn't think it would be this bad.”

He talks a little about the doctor's while you wait for Remus to come home. It isn't a waste of time, he insists, the GP is there for a reason.

You're surprised when it's Sirius who shouts up the stairs. “You okay?” he calls.

“Sirius?”

James shrugs. “Remus must've told him. We're fine!”

A rush up the stairs. Sirius pauses by the door, frowning at you both in his bed. “What did you do?”

“Well, I didn't mean to,” you say.

“Not you, darling. James, I told you to look after her, all that equipment freaks me out, and Remus agrees.”

James sighs. “He doesn't mean that.”

Sirius goes to sit with you but stops upon noticing your wince, and instead flops down on the floor near the wardrobe with his phone to his ear. “I'll get an emergency appointment.”

“This isn't an emergency,” you say.

“It is for you. You'll need a sick note sorted anyways.”

“But it's not that bad.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius says, smiling at you softly, an uncommon expression on him, though not unseen, “I know when you've had a big cry.”

He gets put on hold, saving you the further ache of the line music while James strokes your temple. You attempt to hide how much your back hurts, but you're hurting bad and the knowledge that it's not about to go away soon is genuinely scary.

Remus understands uncertain pain. He's last to come home but certainly not the least concerned, shoving his laptop case onto Sirius’ dresser, freeing his hands in favour of your face. “Is it bad?” he asks, looking between you and James for an answer.

“Not really,” you say. James’ face must say differently.

“What painkillers have you taken?” he asks quickly, “I have co-codamols, did you take paracetamol? You can't have them at the same time.”

He frowns deeply at your daunted look. “You haven't taken them already, have you? They're very strong by themselves, with paracetamol as well, you'd–”

“I haven't taken anything,” you admit.

Sirius sighs and rubs his nose into his palm. “Jesus.”

“Oh,” Remus says, hands especially tender, even as he laughs, “of course you haven't.”

“I was a bit distracted.”

He sobers, stroking the fat of your cheek and then leaning down for a careful kiss. “Of course. Haven't eaten anything either, I suppose?”

“No, sorry.”

He kisses you again and pulls away. “That's okay. What about you, Jamie, did you eat?”

They take care of you in their different ways, in the same way they take care of one another. “No,” James says, “but I have it. Swap places with me, I'll make dinner while we wait for the GP to answer.”

“You can make supper at the same time,” Sirius jokes.

You laugh and hurt your back. He is very, very sorry.

1K notes · View notes