#they don’t have to know I’m thinking about the puppet on his knees | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

packsvlog · 23 days

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☕️⌇ ◜ OFFICE HOURS ◞ ⠀⠀⠀

╰⠀boss!nanami x secretary!reader where . . . nanami kento can’t let people know the reality that he, under no circumstances, belongs to them. in fact, is quite the contrarie. everyone in this job is a puppet willingly letting him pull the strings. you more than anyone. after committing the bizarre mistake of telling nanami your true intentions with him, your boss is more than eager to comply your desires and just maybe, forget he first input of no belongings.

cw. too much swearing, fingering with others present (not caught), fem!reader, reader keeps daydreaming w. nanami, slightly age gap but non-important all legal, public sex, overstimulation, they both keep failing to hide, possessiveness, love bites, he slap her thigh once, bit of blood because of self lip biting 4.9k words, english is not my first language.

an. hi, hello, i want everyone to know i’m this man wife. this is, in fact, our love story, i used to serve his coffee, now i’m serving my puss— anyways, enjoy it. FYI nanami smells like either tom ford tobacco vanille or byredo bibliothèque.

There are certain events in the workplace ── a sequence, if you may ── that serves as a warning to everyone that Mr. Nanami Kento has arrived.

Not many months ago, you were clueless to the symphony of presentation he had, even before stepping into the room. Now, though, it’s engraved in your mind. Much like he is. It is, also, a dirty secret to have that you eagerly wait for it, everyday.

Halting the tack-tack of your fingers on the keyboard, your ears pick the first signal ── rushed footsteps. All opening space so he can pass without the need to raise his eyes, hidden by sunglasses, from his cellphone. The second is the whispers and swooning. Some, more brave than others, compliment him out loud. Always about his peculiar ties, and always he smiles back. Lastly, when Nanami is in your sight of view, he is accompanied by his signature scent that greets you before he even does.

The most raw way to describe his smell is by saying that you wish you could crack him open, and lay inside of him forever. It’s comfortable and addicting and it makes you want to kiss him until it can permanently fixates on you.

In more proper synonyms, Nanami Kento smells like caramel, wood and a bit smokey. He is hot to the touch, one can admit. You don’t fall far from these thoughts, but sometimes, when you are not eye-fucking your boss, you think he smells like a cozy cabin in the woods.

Perfect place to fuck him, though.

Is easy to imagine such a thing. You can picture him with thick sweat covering his body, like a second layer, as he comes inside with a hatchet and wood for the fireplace. And you can, also easily, imagine yourself on your knees sucking him so good, as way to thank him for keeping you warm.

It’s a Kento effect. Everywhere he passes, people tend to have a heat stroke. You are no better than the others. Probably worse. He, however, does not need to know that. Nanami’s plate is already filled to the brims with people gazing him as a snack, he doesn’t need his personal assistant to do the same.

Not in front of him, anyways.

So, when he comes near your table, and stop to take whatever you have for him (work related, honey, even when you wish it was your pussy), you present the calls he need to answer with a compliment for his shoes and a black coffee with pretzels.

He adores you.

You want to fuck him senseless.

A perfect imperfect balance of clashing feelings. His are professional, yours are not even close. He only steps over the boundaries when it’s to call you “Darling” and you only do so in your head, when you think of laying on his table and letting him feast on your dripping cunt.

He is gentle and caring.

You wouldn’t mind chanting his name loud enough for everyone to understand what’s happening.

He departs ways and you share a trembling sigh with your inner turmoil of emotions. He makes you have a constant fever. In fact, with him, everything is constant. You want to fuck him everyday, you touch yourself with his voice in your mind guiding you. He gets pretty out of character in your alone mind, though.

Real Nanami is a sweetheart. Your Nanami would make you cry while on his cock.

“── and the meeting room needs to be ready by eleven, you can do all that, darling?” He asks. He asks! He is talking with you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kento,” You stutter before shifting your attention from your computer screen to his charming understandable smile. “could you repeat, please?”

“Sure, darling.”

You need to put extra neurons to work when eyeing his pink lips moving gracefully. Is it the same shade as his cock? Oh, you hoped so. That would be your favorite color, would paint your nails, your hair, anything.

“Got it now?” Nanami curls his lips as he question you. You can’t lie to him, so you sign that No, you did not payed attention. He chuckles and comes closer, resting both hands in fist on your table, letting himself down so he can be face to face with you. “I need you to order mine, yours and the lunch for the usual gentleman I talk about the finances, ── you have that noted, right?” You nod, and he proceeds. “Then, I want you to decorate the meeting room, the way you always do.” You nod again, and he moves back. You want to whine. “Good girl.”

Pause.

That’s new. It’s like achieving a new item in a game. A new level. That’s a prize, the greatest form of enlightenment one could have. You feel warm in your chest and cheeks, but dare not to sway your eyes from his twinkling ones. You wonder if he knows what you are thinking, or if he knows the power he has over you ── over everyone.

That’s Nanami Kento. The man with a dazzling aura, it touches all in proximity, no one survives him. If he wants, you are his. Hooked like a worm, willingly ready to be devoured by a fish, and the thing is no one knows if Nanami is said fish or the fisherman.

The secret about his success is not only the sweet talk he does, but the way he can easily take it away. And no one wants to be away from his warmth. You’ve seen it before, how he controls people ── some more powerful than your mind can comprehend, they all are puppets for him to pull the strings. He touches and praises them when they do what he wants, but Nanami grows cold and absent when they don’t.

Everyone wants to be loved by him, so everything this enterprise does, it revolves around Nanami.

He can be a scary man when he wants, and you’ve heard the tales, from time to time. With you, fortunately, he is just your nice boss. And a part of you wish he would cradle you into his arms and play with you like a marionete. His doll. Yeah, you want to be his fucking doll.

Tempted to ruin this lunch and be ravished by his famine, you shake your deranged thoughts and focus on ordering the food. Also asking for red velvet cookies for you and Mr. Gojo, the owner of this whole enterprise.

A cocky young man, that likes to devour your physique whenever you come inside the room. He is rich and beautiful and his name is always on the newspaper with gossip mostly involved. You could fall for him, could fuck him, but he is not Nanami.

He doesn’t boss you around gently, nor he makes you crave his scent on lonely nights. He makes you shy, but not timid and horny. In fact, you don’t even think about Satoru Gojo unless you are balancing his persona with Nanami’s. That’s sad for him.

You keep doing that ── the thoughts, the sexual dreams ── while preparing the meeting room with a charming decoration. Black glasses, black plates, all with golden details. Satoru Gojo himself payed for it, not that he knows or care. You commented once, Nanami liked, and moved his toys in favor of buying the expensive kitchen utensils you wanted. He even made sure to get some for your own house.

The last part is closing the thick black curtains around the room, for privacy. Someone comes inside the second you step back from the last tapestry, and when you turn, Nanami is there.

“How’s everything?” His fingers press on the table, moving swiftly with him, closer to you. “You’ve got cookies?” There is amusement in his question.

“Mr. Gojo’s secretary, Suguru, told me he was craving something sweet.” You turn back to the table behind you, stacking the sweet in a small mountain. “He always gets fussy if he doesn’t get his daily large intake of sugar.”

You grabbed one, knowing that half of it was rightfully yours, and twisted on your heels. Nanami scared you in two sequential situations after that. The first being his looming presence right in front of you, piercing gaze on you, shifting between your eyes. He was searching for something in it, so, you tried the hardest you could to give him something back. Eyes that said “please, fuck me.”

Maybe it worked. The next thing he did, that scared you, was bending down and biting your cookie. Eyes never leaving yours. You gulped, he smirked.

“Please, fuck me.”

He chocked.

See, your eyes were supposed to be the one speaking for you, but Nanami also has this super power that no one can lie to him. He wants something, he gets it delivered in a silver plate. He knows everyone’s secret, and yours were never safe, just happened to be hidden in a line of things that weren’t priority for him. Not until now, at least. He wanted to know what you were hiding, and you gave it to him.

“I ──” The words are struck behind your teeth. Nanami eagerly waits for them. “I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you leave him.

In a perfect world, he would have grabbed you by the wrists and fucked you against Satoru’s side of the table. But it’s not, because he lets you go. He has to let you go, even if you know that’s not the end of it. He will get you later, and like a little kid in science class, he will dissect everything you said. Therefore, during the thirty minutes of freedom you are granted in the bathroom, before the meeting starts, you try and fail and try and fail to conceal your thoughts into a perfect lie.

It doesn’t work. Not even a bit. Because Nanami knows you like the back of his hand, as much as he knows everyone that works with him. He knows when you lie and when you are truthful, and thanks to that, your work relationship had always been good ── you’ve never lied to him to stroke his ego. You were too busy wanting to stroke something else. Nanami let you slide your nasty comments about others, and he would share them, granting you some of their secrets.

He was a gossiper. He knew everything. You knew right there that lying would never work with him, so you just avoided to let him reach that horny part of yours that burned for him. Give him something else to sink his attention into. Your neck, you wanted, but rather you would feed him with gossips from your college classes, or what you got from Suguru Geto, your friend and Satoru’s assistant.

Now, you had already run out of distractions. Maybe that was his plan all along. If the world is correct, and it all falls down to Nanami’s desires, then maybe he was just waiting for you to crumble and admit. You had never been subtle with your eyes, anyway. That’s why he had been so fascinated about it, staring from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of your true self, like a wishing star in a starry night.

The stars have gone dark, burned and busted away, when you come back to the meeting room and sit down on your designed chair, by his side. Nanami is focusing at you, again, like he needs more of your secrets at this moment. You have never gave him something so largue before, he is addicted.

But you, stubborn, appalled, stoic and all, think your plate of pasta is the most interesting thing in this whole world. You don’t eat much, because your throat is filled with all the words and screams you want to let out. You fear if you so much breathe loud, it will all come flooding this room.

“Are you annotating all of this in your head?” Nanami whispers in your ear, referring to the meeting now in progress. You sign no, and he sighs. “Your mind is far away, today.”

“Sorry.”

“What should I do with you?”

Someone coughs. An old man, standing by the edge of the table. He wants Nanami’s eyes on him, the praise, the goodness. Kento grants him half a smile, and that is not enough. Never will be. Everyone always wants more.

The lights are turned off when the projector is brought by Suguru, he comes and goes quickly, not before stealing a cookie from Satoru. That’s the first smile you present since the incident, and Nanami is back at staring at you with an intensity your heart fears but your pussy drips for. Are you scared? Petrified. And still, you are fucking horny.

He knows your secret, he is devoting his eyes to you, no matter what anyone else wants. He, in this moment, wants you. It might be because he needs to know what you meant, it might be because you are stroking his ego, finally. Or, you dare wonder, he is debating throwing you on that table and fucking you. Old men and Satoru aside, you wouldn’t mind. At all.

You take courage to look at him, and instantly you stare at his lips first, before his eyes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You go back at eyeing the projector. He does the same a long beat later. An even longer one, he slowly puts his hand on your exposed thigh, skirt raised since you set down.

You try to not fail in your stoic face, but you do so anyway. Because, for fuck’s sake, Nanami Kento has his hands on your thigh, his thumb in circular movements. Your lips instinctively curl up, he snorts by your side before going back to his serious demeanor.

You thought he would just keep his hands there, as if testing the water but deciding to stay near the shore. That’s not his case, though. Nanami loves to go to the beach, to swim far away beyond the waves, he likes to get damped. His hand move closer, and you open your legs absentmindedly. He wants, you give. As much as you have wanted, and now he is giving you.

When his hands are pressing against your lacy underwear, you hear a little “Fuck” coming from his mouth. You’re soaking wet.

It’s hard to keep your breathing pattern steady when he is near you. Even more harder when he has one finger slowly penetrating you. For the outsider viewer, everything is normal, and the two of you are just concentrated on the projector screen. The truth is you have no idea what’s going on, and maybe neither does him. You want to moan, and tug his hair until he groans. And you want him to replace his finger with his cock. You stare at the annotation book, empty of your handwriting, and use the opportunity of your head down to hang your mouth open and close your eyes.

Nanami shifts his eyes to you, and he drowns himself into your fucked gaze, even more so when he puts another finger. He can’t linger much, or others will notice, so he decides to keep his movements fluid and calm, and to stare at you from time to time.

He can multitask. Of-fucking-course. He asks questions, answers, he acts as if he is one hundred percent into whatever is going on. The reality is different. The truth is all about his curling fingers pressing themselves in a place inside you that will forever mark his presence there. Like a secret plaything only for him, no one, not even you, will ever reach that. It’s like he is signing it with either his name only or a “Nanami was here.”

You want him to stay, forever. Stay inside you, slow pacing, curling, sensitive.

He can’t, because what feels like hours later, turns into minutes. Everyone is raising up to leave, and he moves out of you so fast, you clench around nothing ── had you been quicker, grabbed his fingers, they all would know. You don’t give a fuck, you want them too know.

“Go to my office.” He whispers before going the opposite direction of the exit, and staying back to talk with the others. You walk without a goodbye, creating an excuse when Satoru wants some of your time.

Inside his office, you feel like breathing for the first time. It’s confusing, like your lungs are new and not fully connected to your esophagus, so it comes up weird ── in a mixture of laugh and relief, salted with a “what the actual fuck”.

You want to stop and think of what’s happening or what’s to happen, but you never had the chance. It’s a second later, and you are being pressed against his, now, locked door. His arms holding your hips, his head resting on your neck, sulking your scent much like you do with his.

“You meant it, right?” He asks, bringing his face up to yours. “You want me to fuck you. Please, darling, say you do, because I need to fuck you now, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Yes, please, please.” Midway through your desperate nod, Nanami lunged at you, catching your lips in his and conducting the rhythm, the strength.

He was so, so good. In all ways. His slow fingers had your legs shaking and his eager kiss has your mind fogged. All that he does seems to be professional, but you know deep down, this effect is all because is made by him. Just his presence alone could have you hot and bothered, but to actually be touched by him, it’s like adding the fire to your gasoline self.

You had always been meant to be burned by Nanami.

He hoist you up against the door, for a quick second his hands kept clawing your thighs, until he walked you both to his desk. He let you down on it, and at the same time, his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder. You could feel the scrape of his teeth, tempted to mark you with a significant bite ── tell them I’m yours, you thought.

He groaned against your flustered skin, because he knew he couldn’t do that. Mark you, that’s it. Fuck you? Oh, that he can, that he will do.

“I need you to be really quiet for me.” His hands are quick on his belt, dropping it with a thud against the floor. He raises your skirt to your waist, Nanami grumbled under his breath with the sight of your underwear. He had touched the elaborate details earlier, but to see it was another story. White, see through, a pink ribbon on the top. “I’m going to rip it.”

“No, you’re not!” Raising your leg, you pushed him away. Eyes still hypnotized by your clothed cunt. You removed the piece with a satisfied smirk. It had been months since you started to wear those type of under-wears, hoping one day this situation would come.

No one wants to fuck their sexy boss with granny’s pants.

The cold table coming in contact with your intimacy made you moan a bit, and Nanami’s attention was back on you. There you were, beautifully waiting for him. Fuck-me eyes, pleading mouth, hands gripping the edge of the desk. You were at his mercy, had been for a while now. And he? Well, Nanami was yours now, that’s what matter.

One of his fingers, the same one he had penetrated you earlier, came back inside you. Smearing itself with your wetness. His other hand gripped your hips, bringing you closer, and making him go deeper. There, right fucking there. He curled, and thrusted, and another two more out of nowhere.

Cruelty was not on the way he was ravishing your cunt, but the biting of your teeth on your hand. You have to be quiet, follow his orders, but Nanami seemed to want to make you scream. Let everyone know that he is fucking you. Nearly fucking you.

Combining this movements with the ones of earlier, you feel your insides getting tighter. He senses as well, and raises his peace once more. But, again, your legs push him away. Nanami doesn’t like that, he comes back quick, wet fingers anxious to reclaim their place inside you, but you sign no, and he halts. That’s it. The man that controls everyone, and he is at your mercy.

“I want to cum on your cock.” Maybe is the sweet and diabolical way you say, or the tilting of your head with a charming smile. What matters is, he complies right away. His pants fall, he takes off his blazer, and not a second later you are presented with what you’ve been craving for months.

Like a pregnant lady, you almost cry and fall on your knees, finally having your desire attended. He doesn’t want that either, instead Nanami takes a condom from his wallet. Before he puts it, his waiting fingers touch your cunt again, grabbing a bit of your liquid and smearing it on himself. You nearly ask him to throw the condom away.

Is a sinful sight. All of this. You on the desk, legs wide open. He in front of you, adjusting himself on the condom. Both groaning when he, fucking finally, align with your entrance, and slowly gets in. He is largue, and thick, and preparation might have been necessary had you not been daydreaming of this moments months ago.

Had he not been himself, that man that makes you drip with just a “good morning”, this might have hurt. Instead, it’s exhilarating to be parted by his cock. The condom does not stop you from feeling his veins tickling your walls, or his tip finally setting near your cervix. That was fucking new. Pleasant and scary, and fucking welcome as well.

“Say it again,” He asks, hands on both your hips and eyes looking over yours. Waiting for the stars to fall over the two of you. “tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck m──” He doesn’t wait for you to end before he removes himself, and going back with a gushing sound. You nearly scream out of pleasure, but in the last second, you bite your lips strong enough to draw some blood. “Mmh, you fucking a-asshole.” He snorts at that, before slapping your thigh.

Seems that Nanami can do all the noises he wants. He groans against your skin, head hanging low to stare at the way you pussy suck his dick in and out. You have always been a good girl ── his good girl. Taking all the he gave you. Mostly work related, and now his cock. You truly were made just for him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” A moan scapes your hands, and he doesn’t bother spanking your leg again. He called you baby, and you’re strangling his dick perfectly. You can shout at this point, he is pussy fucked.

Removing your hands from your mouth, you decide to do something much better than guarding your pleasure. Instead, you open his button-up blue shirt. A dream come through, is what this day will be remembered as. Specially now, where he lets you do as you pleases, and you have the sight of his pecks ── bronzed from a beach trip he took last week, and glistening with sweat for your recent activities. You moaned again, before going for it, and marking him.

Nanami allowed you to do so. He only cared about holding your hips and raise your lower body, so he could make you meet his thrusts halfway. He didn’t hold a care in the world about his groaning getting louder, or the burning on his neck and chest caused by your eager mouth and teeth. Fuck that. Fuck everyone. The only thing he truly wanted was to be inside of you forever. To be planted in this moment of his life, on loop, being marked by you, having his cock milked out by your dripping cunt. That’s what his life was made for.

Nanami Kento had this aura that made everyone scramble for him and his left-overs, as a way to keep close. To say they have something that once was his. Because everyone knew that Nanami was no one’s property. This moment, this fuck, this pussy proved that statement to be contraire ── he was yours. From the first day he saw you and specially one hour ago, when he had eaten your cookie and you told him to fuck you. He knew right then that he would shift the whole balance of the world to give you what you want.

And if that’s his aching cock, fucking be it. It’s yours. You’re taking it so good, and barely paying attention to it. He keeps bruising your cervix, and you respond with little whimpers and more bites. He quicken his peace, you close your legs around his waist, as if giving him more opening.

A perfect synchrony.

“Wan’ to cum.” You mumble just right after he senses your wall get tight.

“C’mon, baby, ugh, cum f’me.”

“Mmh, fuck, ngha.”

You do right after, going limp on his arms, he slow his thrusting with a snort and laying you down on the desk. He shuffles something by your dazed-self side, before he brings a black sharpie near your cleavage. He kisses and licks and sucks on it, before opening the pen with his mouth, and signing a straight line.

“How many more can you give me, pretty?” You don’t answer in words, but with more quiet whimpers, when his thrusts go back to pounding you in a maniac pace. He holds your neck down, leaning to kiss you through your beautiful moans.

You’re sensitive, he knows. Because you keep closing more and more around his length, trying to make him cum, unknown to you that it only makes you closer to coming again. You hit your head on the desk when trying to follow his departed lips, Nanami has your neck again on his mouth, tasting your sweat and lotion, and all you can give him. It’s only when he bites it slightly, you release yourself once more.

“Mmph, fuck, fuck, argh.”

Nanami keeps jerking his hips onto yours, not even having cum once. He takes pleasure in yours, you can see. With a proud smirk, he grabs the sharpie once more, but this time, he makes a diagonal line that touches the top of the first.

“Mhm──!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, baby. Just a bit more.” He cooed at you, sweet tone diverging from his animalistic movements.

You’re not complaining, not even regretting. So you keep yourself down and let Nanami control both of yours fun. He is ruthless in his pace and fantastic with his kisses, he doesn’t mind your moaning anymore, or the fact that everyone on your floor already knows. What can they do? Stop you? Nanami will rip everyone apart and just return to your pussy. Threaten him? No one would dare. He is still their sweetheart, their most sacred prize, beautiful and shinning to look at. Never to have.

“I’m, ugh, I’m yours.” He grunts.

This time, you sense a shift in his thrusts. So methodical now sloppy, and his cock kept twitching inside of you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. Yes, fucking finally, he was near.

“All fucking m──mine.” You agreed with his words, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming your lips together. “I’m yours, always had been.”

Nanami can’t even control himself anymore. He groans and pants as he releases himself inside you. With a mist of swearing and praises you could barely decipher. After all, his own release had triggered yours.

When you both had come back from the high, Nanami raised himself from your chest, and kissed you, tongues intertwining, teeth clashing and biting. When he parted, leaving you breathless, he had then pen in his hand again. It touched your skin, once more, connecting from the bottom of his last line, going up straight.

It’s a “N”.

“You think we can spell my name?” He asks, leaving your inside to throw his condom out. He opens a drawer, where a box with more is presented.

“That would be more 17 fucks.” You support your weight on your elbows while counting.

“It’s that a no?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, before beckoning him closer. He does right away, kissing you hungrily once more. As if he is trying to record forever the taste of your mouth. He has your hair in his fists, pushing it back so he can go back to your, now, heavily marked neck.

“Let’s see how far can we go.” You indulge into his crazy erotic idea.

Nanami smiles triumphantly. He removes himself from your body, but doesn’t put condoms, instead, he falls on his knees, diving straight for your pussy.

Hours later, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you leave his locked office with a smug smirk and timid eyes. Both accompanied by messy hair, flushed cheeks, marked neck and… “Nana” written on your chest.

“We’ll finish this later.” He comes behind you, closing his shirt, but letting the top buttons opened enough to catch a glimpse of your love marks on his chest. Specially the one with “Mine” marked in it.

1K notes · View notes

tibby-art · 3 months

Note

i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au

crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut

=+=

Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.

Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.

Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.

“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”

“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”

“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”

Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.

“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”

The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.

“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.

“So… those aren’t your keys?”

Cub and Scar just grinned at her.

“….This is our stop,” Grian said.

The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.

“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”

“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”

Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.

“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.

“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.

“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”

Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.

The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?

“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”

“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”

“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.

“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”

“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.

“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”

“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”

“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”

“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”

The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”

“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”

“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”

“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”

“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.

“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”

Grian’s eyes widened.

“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”

“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?

Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.

“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.

“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.

Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.

“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.

“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.

“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.

“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”

“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”

“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Oh my god, Scar.”

“What?”

“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”

“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“

“Watchers.”

Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.

“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.”

#please excuse my rusty writing abilities #convexian hitman au #grian #goodtimeswithscar #sketchbook #art tag #desert duo

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adverbally · 2 months

Text

Wind Up Like the Wreck You Hide

———

Eddie runs into the emergency room and directly into Steve’s arms. He can’t catch his breath, having hyperventilated the whole drive back to Hawkins and sprinted from the parking lot, but he’s able to gasp out, “Wayne-?”

“He’s okay,” Steve reassures him, rubbing his hands up and down Eddie’s arms. “He’s gonna be okay, they’re just gonna keep him overnight for observation.”

“He’s okay?” Eddie parrots. What does that mean? The words haven’t sunk in yet. Eddie was in Indianapolis getting ready for tonight’s show when Steve had called him from this very waiting room to explain that Wayne had a heart attack and Eddie needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Two hours later, he’s just… okay?

Steve shifts his grip to Eddie’s shoulders. “He’s okay. We got here fast and they took great care of him. He’s asleep upstairs right now.”

Eddie feels faint with the relief that sweeps through him. Though, as his knees go weak and he stumbles into Steve, it occurs to him that it’s probably just his adrenaline crashing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve catches him under his arms and drags him upright again. “Let’s go sit down while I catch you up.”

Eddie doesn’t know what he needs to know other than ‘Wayne had a heart attack and it didn’t kill him,’ but he lets Steve steer him toward a bank of plastic chairs in the corner. He falls into a seat like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Steve, angel that he is, pulls a notebook out of his pocket and begins telling Eddie what Wayne’s doctors had said. He had carefully written down phrases that he knew he wouldn’t remember once Eddie got there. Atherosclerosis. Nitroglycerin. Percutaneous coronary intervention. Angioplasty with stent. All the information Eddie would need about his uncle’s care, noted and defined in Steve’s neat handwriting. There are some items with question marks beside them, things that they might need to ask the doctors about.

Eddie’s eyes begin to water. Steve didn’t just do this for him, he did it out of love and concern for Wayne. He spent two hours gathering information and taking notes so he could understand what happened and figure out how to help. The notes on aspirin, the crude diagram of a blocked artery, the bullet point at the bottom of the page that says ‘diet?? medication??’ are all so Steve can take better care of Wayne.

Steve grips Eddie’s hand when he hears his sharp intake of breath. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’ll make more sense once we go upstairs and talk to Wayne’s doctor.” His tone is low and soothing.

“Thanks. I’m glad you were here to look out for him.”

“Yeah, of course.” He looks a little embarrassed by Eddie’s gratitude, like it’s a given that anyone would do the same thing. “He’s important to you, so he’s important to me. But he’s also a good man. A good dad,” he adds tentatively.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “You should call him that to his face, he would love it. Finally, a son who will watch sports with him and properly sort the laundry!”

“I don’t expect you to get it since ninety-nine percent of your wardrobe is black, but separating whites and colors really makes a difference!” Steve argues, blushing at Eddie’s teasing.

Eddie squeezes his hand. “Seriously, Wayne loves you. He calls you his son-in-law when he talks about you with his poker buddies. He brags about how all the kids at school love you and you’re the best second grade teacher in the state. Hell, I think he spends more time with you than he does with me.”

“He really does all that?” Steve asks quietly, like a wish that won’t come true if you say it out loud. When Eddie nods, Steve frowns, his lower lip quivering slightly, and looks down at the scuffed linoleum floor. “I didn’t know.”

Oh, shit. Eddie didn’t even think to ask how Steve was doing through all of this. He had called 911 and ridden in the ambulance with Wayne, had almost certainly paced around the nurses’ station waiting for news. Then, instead of going with Wayne, he stayed downstairs until Eddie got there so he could update him about Wayne’s condition as soon as humanly possible.

It was just like Steve to focus on taking care of everyone else, so natural that Eddie didn’t even think twice about accepting Steve’s comfort while offering nothing in return. And now that the immediate crisis is over, now that Steve has had a chance to breathe and start processing, Eddie thinks Steve might be on the verge of a meltdown.

Wordlessly, Eddie loops an arm under one of Steve’s and tugs him to his feet, herding him in the direction of the single-stall bathroom around the corner. By the time they’re inside, Steve’s whole body is shaking; by the time Eddie flips the lock on the door, fat tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“Sorry, I don’t know why…” Steve gestures at his face a little helplessly.

Eddie still doesn’t say anything, just pulls Steve into a tight embrace. His shirt grows damp where Steve has buried his face in his shoulder, and he feels Steve’s back shudder as he tries to stifle his sobs.

“I was really scared,” he confesses between gasps. “I just kept thinking how horrible it would be if I had to tell you—“

“It’s okay, baby,” Eddie murmurs into his hair. “You did great, he’s okay.”

Steve sniffles loudly. “I know, I’m just being stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” It comes out more forcefully than Eddie had planned. He hates when Steve does that, puts himself down and invalidates his feelings. “That was a medical emergency. Just because it turned out fine doesn’t mean it wasn’t stressful.”

“I guess.” Steve pulls away long enough to grab a paper towel so he can mop up his face. He goes easily when Eddie guides him into another hug.

Swaying them both gently, he tells Steve, “You know, you don’t always have to put on a brave face. Let me take care of you once in a while.”

“I know,” Steve croaks. “I’m working on it.”

They stand there for another minute, both drawing strength from the other’s presence, before Steve clears his throat and releases Eddie. “I think I’m good. We should go upstairs now, Wayne’ll want to see you.”

“He’ll want to see you, too,” Eddie reminds him.

Steve’s smile is small but radiant. “Okay, let’s go.”

#steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mine #i promise this is the last medical related ficlet for the foreseeable future #handwavy jargon courtesy of dr wikipedia #wayne doesn’t actually appear in this fic but he said to tell you hi 👋

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jeankluv · 3 months

Text

The prophecy - Gojo Satoru

summary: Gojo Satoru knew he was the strongest, he perfectly knew. But that didn’t mean he didn’t cry and that night while everyone still preparing to fight Sukuna, he cried. He cried because he felt completely alone and only seen as a weapon

paring: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

tags: angst, canon universe, manga spoilers, Gojo centric, lyrics, fluff, mutual feeling, no use of y/n, Gojo thinks reader hates him, open up for a second part.

note: i wrote this some time ago and never actually posted, everything i have to say is that I love Gojo Satoru so much and i miss him like crazy. If y’all like it I could write a second part and explore more about this pair, but this part is mainly focused on Gojo’s character

words: 1,7k

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | part 2

“I’ve been on my knees, change the prophecy”

Gojo Satoru only cried four times in his life. The first time he was 5 years old and he wanted to learn to ride a bicycle, but he fell to his knees and bled. The elders of the clan and his parents always told him that he should not cry and that he should be strong, but that day when he got to his room he cried hugging his favorite puppet.

The second time was when he was 17 years old, Suguru had left and he didn't understand why, again he cried alone in his room wondering if he could have done more for the one who was once his best friend.

The third time he was 27 years old, it was after killing Suguru, he stood there statically looking at the lifeless body of his old friend and let the tears run down his cheeks.

The last time was now, when he was 29 years old. And once again he was alone.

He always wondered if his whole life was already written, if there was a prophecy that said that he who possessed six eyes and limitless was destined to always be alone. That was the burden he had to bear for being “the strongest.”

He wondered if he would be able to change jujutsu society and thus change everything. That if someone in 100, 300 or who knows when had the same powers as him again, they would not have to be alone, that they would not have all that burden from the moment of birth.

Satoru was born with a price on his head, he was used by the higher ups since he was 15 and now he was facing what could be his last battle and ironically if he died they will continue to use him as what they have always made him believe he is. A weapon.

Satoru did not mind dedicating his life to exorcising curses, in fact he liked it and they satisfied him, especially if they were of a high level. But he wanted to stop being alone, he wanted to stop being seen as the strongest, as a weapon to use.

When the idea was proposed to him, the first thing he thought about was what would happen to Yuta. He knew that Yuta could only replicate the techniques for 5 minutes and then he lost them. In the best case scenario, he would return to his original body, right? The second thing he thought was that it wouldn't be necessary, and he was prepared to beat Sukuna, he wasn't going to lose. And the last thing he thought was that he would once again be used.

Now there he was in his room, alone, crying because he just didn’t feel like anyone really cared about him. Why didn’t Shoko object? Why didn’t anyone object to the idea?

He sighed and throw himself to the bed, looking up to the ceiling of his bedroom, preventing his tears from falling down.

“Don’t want money, just someone who wants my company”

The door opened letting in light from the hallway, Satoru did not move, he knew the cursed energy immediately. He let you come in and sit on the bed a little away from him.

“I think it’s an awful and dehumanizing plan.” You said.

Satoru chuckled, holding his tears, the room was dark but still he didn’t want you to see him crying. “Can’t believe you are the one standing for me.”

“Don’t get over your head Gojo and besides one of your kids, Yuta also stood for you.” You said. “And I’m pretty sure Shoko hates the idea but believes in you more than anyone else.”

“Really?” He whisked.

“You don’t think like that?”

“Well…” He sighed. “After feeling all my life used as a weapon by this cracked society, I wasn’t surprised if people were willing to use me as a weapon even after my death.”

You fell silent, processing Satoru’s words. “Satoru…” He hummed. “You feel lonely?”

Satoru turned his face towards you, thanks to his six eyes he was able to see you clearly. And why were you crying? You off all the people? You who hated his guts? Why?

“Why are you crying?” Satoru inquired and you wiped your tears away.

“I’m not crying and besides it’s dark you can’t know.”

“I have the six eyes, I see everything.”

“I doubt…” You whispered.

“What?” Satoru stood up and moved closer to you.

“Nothing.” You tried to avoid him. “Do you like plan B? Be honest.”

“To be honest, I don’t know.” He sighed. “If I lose… that might be the only way to kill Sukuna and bring Megumi back but I’m worried about Yuta, it would be awful for him to get stock on this body, although I’m pretty handsome.”

“You are not serious.”

Satoru chuckled. “But for real, if that’s the only way… then it’s okay.”

“But it’s not.” You said. “You want to be used as a puppet? As a weapon?!”

Why were you so sad? So angry?

“All my life it’s been like that, it’s like a prophecy and maybe if I let them use me one more time maybe I can redo that prophecy, so no one else has to go through what I, we went as kids.”

You stood up from the bed and walked away from it. “I hate you…” You whispered but still Satoru was able to hear you.

“I know you always say how…”

“No.” You shook your head next to the window. “For you to have the six eyes, you’re pretty blind you know?” You chuckled. “You once said that you had the theory that love is the most twisted curse right? Well you were right.” You laughed. “Love really consumes you, especially when the person you love won’t look at you the way you want them to look at you.”

Satoru's heart started to rise with each one of the words you were speaking. He was still confused and overwhelmed by what you were saying.

“It’s funny right?” You said once again. “I’m such a coward and selfish person, silent for over 10 years and now that you are about to face the greatest threat of your life I’m here, making everything about me and my feelings.” You look down. “Please Satoru, let someone assist you during the fight, let me assist you.” You were on the edge of tears. “I’m also a special grade, my kitsune fire technique could help…”

“I work better alone.” He cut you off.

A silence fell between you too and your nails dug into your palm, causing small wounds. “That’s what everyone has always told you.” You whispered. “But you don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to hold all that weight alone.”

“Who do I have to speak to, about if they can redo the prophecy?”

Satoru took a deep breath and with a shaky voice, spoke. “I’m the strongest, it’s what I must do, so everyone is okay, so everyone can…”

“Stop with that Satoru! Stop…” You throw your hands to the air. “What about you? I don’t want you to die Satoru, I don’t want you to be used as a puppet.”

“Enough.” He said your name in a whisper. “The decision has been made, I don’t care.” He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You do care…” You whispered. “Because then why would you be crying here, alone?” You walked. “Hiding all your burdens, all your pain for just yourself. Why?”

Satoru stopped himself and tried to catch his breath but it seemed like the room was running out of air. You walked to him and took his hand on yours and rested your forehead on his back.

“I’m here Satoru…” You whispered against his back.

You felt his grip tighten around your hand and you held onto him tightly as well, letting him know that you were there.

“What should I do?” He whispered.

You stayed silent for a moment and then spoke. “What if you do a binding vow? Just in case Sukuna…” You were unable to say those words.

“A binding vow…”

You nodded against his back. “I know that for it you need to give up something and you probably won’t want to give up what I’m about to suggest…”

“I will.” He turned to look at you. “You suggest that I give up the six eyes, to come back alive.” You nodded. “I will do it.”

You felt like crying. “Good…”

Satoru smirked and kissed your forehead. “Thank you…”

“I hope you don’t have to lose it…” You whispered. “I hope you kill Sukuna off and you come back to us, to me.” You whispered the last part.

Satoru hugged in a hug that almost hurt, but that you knew that the both of you needed.

“It’s late, I should…”

Satoru didn’t let you move. “Stay…” You froze, not sure what to say or what to do. “You said I never looked at you the way you wished, but…” Your heart started to pump in your chest, you could almost hear it in your ears. “Stay with me tonight, pretend like I’m yours for tonight and let me pretend like you are mine.”

You swallowed and hugged him back. “I don’t want to pretend.”

He giggled with a sad tone. “You will have to wait…” He whispered.

You thighed the grip, not wanting to let him go, afraid of him leaving. “Have you been sleeping?” You whispered.

Satoru shook his head. “Badly… really badly.”

You caressed his back gently. "Try to sleep." You said and he responded humming. “I hope you can break that prophecy, Satoru.” You whispered and Satoru wrapped his arms around you tighter.

Satoru hid his face on your neck and in silence he also hoped for that, he hoped to return alive and to be able to finally have someone besides him. To be loved and to be cherished. He hoped he didn’t have to beg anymore and no one else in the future needed to go through what he went through.

That no was seen as a weapon for the Jujutsu world and their youth was never taken from them.

Satoru Gojo just hoped for that, for the prophecy to stop, to break. To be happy with those he loved.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months

Note

I’m gonna need more details on that punishment Lando was promised.

Loved the new chapter. All the bodyguards is exactly what I imagined Lando would do.

Felt so bad for him, to be so scared of making mistake in relationship, isn’t really healthy.

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {6.5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Just smut and a little fluffy aftercare. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, sub/dom WC: 1.2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven

Charles tested the sashes from the hotel dressing gowns that kept Lando spread across the bed to see if they had loosened. His wrists and ankles each led to one of the four corner posts and you sat at the headboard, gently stroking his damp hair.

Come splattered his tensed abs from his first two orgasms, a third almost about to join the mess.

Unintelligible sounds grunted from him as Charles returned between his legs. He was taking his control back after what Lando had done and the red handprints that Lando’s sat on were the result of his punishment. As was the edging.

“Pleaseeee…” he whined as Charles stopped sucking his cock just before he was about to finish. Shifting lower, Charles disappeared deeper between his legs and Lando’s back arched with the workings of his tongue. “Fuuuck, feels so good.”

“Shhh, no talking,” you reminded him.

The sight of Charles popping up, licking his lips, was enough to turn you on again despite already being thoroughly fucked just out of Lando’s reach while he was tied up. The punishment was hardly punishment at all for Lando, but it gave Charles some closure to move on from the mistake.

“Lando can’t help it, can you, mon cher?” Charles asked as he climbed his body, settling himself on his knees over Lando’s chest. “The only way to keep him quiet is with something in his mouth.”

Lando’s lips parted and his tongue lapped at the precum that coated the tip of Charles’ cock before he craned his neck to take more. Charles grabbed the headboard and snapped his hips forward, burying his cock down Lando’s throat.

“There, mon cher, now you can’t talk,” Charles strained through gritted teeth as his own release mounted. “Putain, tellement bien.”

You knew he was close when he switched to his mother tongue and you decided to give Lando some reprieve as you wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking him to the pace Charles set with his hips. A muffled cry broke the seal around Lando’s lips and his hips bucked into your hand until he spilled himself over your fist with a sate groan that rumbled deep from his chest.

“Oui, oui,” Charles panted as he pulled back and painted Lando’s pink lips white, each spurt jerking his body like a puppet controlled by his cock. His ragged breaths slowly calmed as clarity returned to his eyes and he smiled down at the mess on Lando’s face - from his watering eyes to his flushed cheeks. “Mon Dieu, are you alright?”

Lando licked his lips and smiled whimsically at the taste that coated his tongue, but he couldn’t vocalise anything as he reached his subspace. You quickly untied the sashes and Lando’s limbs fell limp around him, that blissful smile still lazy on his lips. “How are your ribs?”

He seemed to have forgotten about the bruises from the crash until he was reminded. “Still sore.”

“Our Charles can do a lot of things but I don’t think he can heal with his dick, if that’s what you were expecting,” you teased as Charles used Lando’s arm as a pillow where he was still recovering. They both chuckled and watched as you climbed off the bed but then Lando pouted, his fingers wiggling on his free arm, begging you to join the cuddles.

“I’m going to run a bath before you fall asleep,” you said with a shake of your head, knowing he was going to crash soon from the highs he had been subjected to.

The steam spilled out of the bathroom with the scent of the jasmine bath salts you found and you dimmed the lights as Charles carried Lando in. “Poor baby is out of it,” you commented as you brushed Lando’s damp curls back. He wasn’t asleep but he wasn’t quite awake either.

Charles stepped into the bath and sunk into the hot water with Lando on his lap, a deep sigh filling the room. You sat beside them on the bathroom floor wrapped up in one of the fluffy robes and wet a cloth to wash the mess off his face before it dried completely.

“Am I scary?”

You looked up in surprise at Charles' question but he was busy looking at Lando’s dark lashes fanned across his pink cheeks. “Where did that come from?”

Tortured eyes lifted to meet yours. “He made himself sick, because of me.”

“No, he made himself sick because his imagination runs wild and he fears any little imperfection,” you corrected as you took his hand in yours, the warm water running up your sleeve to your elbow. The same thing happened any time he messed up in practice, qualifying or the race. If he made a mistake then he would self-depreciate and withdraw into a dark corner of his mind.

Lando’s head slowly tipped back to look up at Charles, remorse openly displayed on his face. “I’m not afraid of you, just the thought of you guys leaving me.”

“Mon cher,” Charles sighed and kissed his forehead. “You are ours and we are not letting you go, no matter what that brain of yours thinks.”

You had already showered while the bath was running but you slipped out of the robe and stepped into the water that was already cooling quickly. Thankfully the tub was extra large, just like everything else is Vegas, and there was plenty of room to curl up against Lando on Charles’ lap. “I’m stubborn,” they both snorted at your statement and you rolled your eyes, “so you know I’m never going to change my mind about you two. And Charles is almost as bad as me. Unfortunately for you, my love, you are stuck with us for a very, very long time.”

Lando pulled you closer and tucked his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you murmured as you combed your fingers through his hair and caught Charles’ eyes softening. “I think it’s about time someone else had an emotional breakdown besides me for a change.”

You cozied up to your boyfriends but just when you got comfortable Lando tutted. “You’re not meant to be in a hot bath.”

“It’s not hot anymore.”

“Baby…”

You can sighed but it was followed by a smile as your Lando was back and his mind was cleared. Trust him to think of your pregnancy the second he wasn’t worried about something else, now he was worried you were boiling little Jellybean alive. So you climbed out with a pout of your own. “Fine, I’ll go, all by myself…to this big, big bed…alone…”

You took a dramatic step each time, amusing them more with each one until Lando slipped under the water to quickly wash his hair out. Charles soon followed suit and the two of them emerged from the bathroom in their robes to settle into bed with you. Without having to ask, you moved aside so Lando could take the middle spot, knowing he still needed the reassuring closeness of your bodies surrounding him as he fell into a deep sleep.

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 smut #charles leclerc smut #lando norris smut

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pennylanewrites · 1 year

Text

[used to be my girl] levi ackerman x f!reader

inspired by used to be my girl by the last shadow puppets

cw + what to expect: cheating, alcohol consumption, smoking, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), creampie, levi is mean and a tease, marking, missionary and lotus position

find part two here

you loved your partner, erwin. you really did, but god, he was so…vanilla. and you never came with him.

only when you were thinking of your ex instead.

you hated it so much, but sex with levi was so good. he knew exactly where to touch you, kiss you, what position made you scream his name. and you needed to feel that way again so, so bad.

but you and levi were long over. he broke up with you when you became a squad leader, never really explaining why. but you knew well he was just scared. levi had lost too many people in his life, that any new ones he just pushed away. you never tried reasoning with him, you knew it would fall on deaf ears anyway.

and then, you and erwin smith became much, much closer than before. all those late nights in his office, discussing tactics and helping him with mountains of paperwork brought you closer, and closer, until you were sharing secret kisses in dim-lit hallways, until he changed the squad positions to have you close to him, until he fell down on one knee two years later and asked you to marry him when everything was over. of course you said yes, and you were beaming and showing off that tiny diamond on your finger, until everything went to shit.

hange had warned you that erwin is in love with his job. you just never knew it would get so bad, to the point he came to sleep in your shared bed once every two weeks, only pecked your lips in a rush when you asked, only fucked you once in a full moon.

you were still in love with levi ackerman. and now you were standing at the annual gala for the survey corps, in a long blue gown, staring your ex boyfriend up and down. your table was filled with wine glasses, and someone would think you had company, but you were all alone since the start of the event. levi was listening to hange babbling about whatever, his pink lips in contact with a whiskey glass every few seconds.

god, you could eat him up right then and there.

what am i thinking? you brought your cold palm against your burning cheek, opting to look for your fiancé instead. he was nowhere to be found, of course. a gala basically in his honour and he was gone.

your eyes fell on levi again. he was wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled up and black pants. so simple, but so, delicious.

the glass almost fell from your hand when he locked eyes with you.

oh god, he’s coming. make a turn, make a turn, don’t-

“hey, levi.” you gave a half embrace and kissed his cheek, your cheap lipstick leaving a faint red mark right on his cheekbone.

“you look beautiful.” was all he said. “and drunk.”

“i’m not drunk,” you scoffed, “this is my second drink.”

“what, in the last ten minutes?” he motioned to the table and your cheeks turned bright red. “where’s your husband?” his tongue was bitter with sarcasm.

“he’s not my husband. and i don’t know.” you mumbled, embarrassed. what kind of fiancée doesn’t know where her partner is?

“want to get some air?” you only nodded, following him out of the main hall and to a bench overlooking the walls. it was a starry night, the moon was full and you felt like a teenager again. just like you were when you and levi first met.

you watched intently as his hand reached in his pocket for a packet of slim cigarettes. he sighed when he realised his lighter was nowhere to be found, but you came quickly to his rescue. opening your purse, you took out a silver lighter, the initials L.A engraved on the side in tiny letters. levi was surprised you still had that, his eyes never leaving that stupid rock on your ring finger as he let you light his cigarette. he offered you one as well, now his turn to light it for you. your eyes met his. were you wrong to think they were full of longing? was he wrong to think yours were filled with regret?

“don’t tell him i’m smoking.”

“dear husband doesn’t allow it?” you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“he just hates it.”

“it’s a good thing he doesn’t kiss you then. he won’t smell it on your breath.” you turned your head surprised. how did he know?

“everyone knows, y/n.” he replied without you even having to ask. you sighed, staring at the burning cigarette in your hand.

“great. the survey corps’ walking anecdote, ladies and gentlemen.” you bowed to an invisible audience, leaning back on the bench with a frustrated sigh.

“what are you even doing with him?”

“it’s none of your business.”

“it is when i hear you moaning in the supply closet every night.” you let out a surprised gasp. how did he say these things so freely?

“the only person masturbating around cleaning products could be you, levi.”

“then who’s that moaning my name in there? every single night. at 2 o’clock sharp.” his voice came out in a whisper, lips touching your ear as he spoke. shivers ran down your spine and your eyes were burning with guilty tears.

“sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

“sounds like erwin can’t make you cum.”

“shut up!” you got up, looking out in the distance. two familiar arms snaked around your waist, locking against your lower stomach. wet lips came in contact with your neck, and you wanted to pull away so bad. to leave, run to your fiancé and kiss him.

but you couldn’t. and you didn’t.

because it was levi you were in love with.

“levi,” you whimpered and he swore his knees would give right then and there.

“shh. let me have this, let you have this.” he was kissing that spot right behind your ear, his hands roaming your body over your dress.

“someone could see us, levi.” you warned him.

“bet it would turn you on.” fuck, he knew what he was doing. “my room. ten minutes.”

levi went around the building and you went back into the main hall, falling right into erwin’s arms.

“i’ve been looking all over for you.” he scanned your face with worried eyes. “you look…”

“i can feel a migraine starting, erwin. i was just out getting some air.”

“okay, go get some sleep, alright? i’ll be in soon.” your heart skipped a beat.

“no, have fun tonight. you deserve it.” you reached up and kissed his lips softly, tears brimming your eyes.

you practically sprinted to levi’s room, head spinning and heart pounding like crazy. you knocked on the door and levi opened in mere seconds, as if he was standing right behind it waiting for you.

“you took too long.” he took you in his embrace, letting his forehead touch yours as you shut the door behind you.

“i ran into erwin.” you bit your bottom lip when levi showed the slightest hint of annoyance. he pushed you against the door, protecting the back of your head with his hand.

“yeah? did you tell him you’re gonna fuck your ex?”

“n-no.”

“you should have. because he’ll take one look at you tomorrow and he’s going to know.” his lips were attached on your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. god, you missed his touch. you missed needing him.

“levi,”

“what?” his voice didn’t show, but he was worried. scared you’ll regret this and leave, run off to erwin and tell him everything.

“kiss me, please.” you didn’t have to ask a second time, because his lips were slamming against yours, and he was so, so hungry. he lowered his body and his hands were around your thighs. you let him lift you up, wrapping your legs around his torso, letting you take him into the bedroom. two candles lit the room up, and you were hit with memories as soon as he dropped you on the mattress.

“take that off.” he instructed and you began unzipping your dress, but he stopped you. “i meant that.” he pointed at your finger. you didn’t give it a second thought, placing the ring in your purse and throwing it on the floor. “now that.” he pointed at your dress as he undressed himself too. you were too focused on the tricks the flame played on his chiselled abs, his strong veiny arms and muscular thighs.

god, he looked like a greek statue.

“can’t even do that yourself?” he took matters into his own hands, slowly taking your dress off before pushing you down again. he fell on top of you, his knees on either side of your hips and leaned down to kiss you. your lips were locked in place perfectly, like the last two pieces of a puzzle you couldn’t finish.

you took your bra off and let it fall on the floor with the rest of your clothes. levi’s lips latched onto your nipple, his fingers rolling the other one. you arched your back off the bed, moaning softly in his ear. his erection hit against your panties and suddenly you were going crazy.

you needed him. now, and forever. you rolled your hips against him as he kissed your body hungrily, watched him as he slid down until his teeth caught the bow on your underwear. he took them off as quick as he could.

“tell me, does he do this?” he asked, leaving a kiss on your clit. god, you were embarrassingly wet.

“he does…” you looked away, but levi reached your jaw with his hand and made you stare at him.

“but?”

“he doesn’t know where to touch me.” you mumbled.

“does he touch you here?” you felt the pads of his fingers come in contact with the top of your clit. you nodded no. “here?” he asked, slowly pulling his fingers down, to that spot that made your stomach tighten.

“no.”

“that idiot doesn’t know what he’s missing then.” was the last thing levi said before his tongue slipped into your folds. your hand fell on his head, as if out of instinct, and you pulled on his perfectly styled hair, guiding him right where you wanted him. a row of fuck, shit, oh god came out of your mouth. how long has it been since you felt this way? your fingers didn’t do even half of what levi was doing to you right now.

“levi, i’m coming.” you warned and he looked up at you as he added two fingers to the mixture, entering your slick cunt. you couldn’t look away from those mesmerising gray eyes as you moaned in pleasure and that knot in your stomach came undone. levi slowed down until he was off your pussy completely, now coming up to you again.

“has he ever made you this wet?” he kissed you, making you taste your juices mixed with his saliva.

“never.” you were telling the truth. levi was the only man who could ever do this to you. he was like magic.

“can i fuck you?”

“yes, please.” you whined when levi slapped his cock against your clit and you looked up at him through eyelashes painted black, silently begging for him to fuck you. he didn’t wait any longer to enter your cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. he adjusted your legs around his ass and leaned down, chests touching, to kiss you.

“you can’t even kiss me?” he teased. how could you? you were a moaning mess, getting louder with every harsh, slow thrust. even though erwin was much bigger than him, levi filled you up perfectly in every way.

he was made for you.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sucking on his neck and those pretty collarbones to muffle your moan. leaning back, you admired the purple and red marks before smiling at him. levi could melt right then and there.

he picked up the pace, fucking you fast into the mattress.

“please, please, please!”

“what, coming again?” he chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eye. “how long has it been, y/n? since someone made you come?”

“too-too long.” you breathed out.

“two years? two and a half?” you knew what he was doing. trying to make you admit he was the last man to make you orgasm.

“oh god, i’m coming!” your walls clenched around his dick, making him moan in pleasure. “levi, levi hold me.”

“i’m holding you.”

“more.” you needed his arms around you. you needed to become one again.

levi pulled you up and into his lap and you wrapped your legs around his torso, arms roaming his back, scratching it. he held you tight, slamming you up and down his cock until you were coming again, and again…

“missed this pussy,” he whined when he felt you clenching again, “missed your claws on my back.”

“give me all of it, levi.” you whispered in his ear and he lifted you up, hips bucking into the back of your thighs as he reached that spot he knew drove you mad. he was close, you could tell. oh god, you didn’t want this to end.

“fuck, i’m gonna-”

“inside me.” you didn’t let him finish. you wanted to feel all of him so bad.

“does erwin cum inside?”

“he doesn’t. he thinks it’s filthy.”

“good. this pussy’s…” his sentence was cut short with a groan and you felt a new, familiar warmth inside you, as he brought you down to fit all of his length, “all mine.” he whispered.

out of breath, you stared at each other. you didn’t want him to pull out. it would all become too real. but your juices combined were making a mess on his lap, so you slowly got up, heading for the bathroom. levi was hot on your heels, accepting the towel you took out for him. you looked at him through the mirror with a sad smile and he returned a serious gaze.

“don’t say this was a mistake.” he blurted out when you opened your mouth to speak. “don’t say anything.” he spun you around and hugged you tight. you could feel his warm breath on your neck, his fingers leaving white marks where he held you, his toes touching yours.

“i have to go.” your voice was shaky. tears fell down your cheeks and dropped on levi’s back, startling him. he pushed you softly and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“stay.”

“i can’t. i’m sorry.” you kissed his cheek and left. levi didn’t come into the bedroom. he waited for you to get dressed, and only when he heard the front door did he go into the room.

he spotted your bag, forgotten on the floor. with a sigh he took it, sat on the bed and opened it. lipstick, his lighter, cigarettes. your engagement ring. he took it in his hand, inspecting it against the light. he leaned to open the top nightstand drawer, a red slick wooden box the only thing inside it. he opened it, comparing the two rings.

“mine’s better. cheap piece of shit.”

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader smut #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi x reader smut #tw infidelity

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tumbleweed-run · 11 months

Text

Puppet On a String

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober 2023 Day 14 Selfcest/Cloning

“He’s a bit like a doll,” Gale said looking over at you.

You were focused on him, well another him.

“ A puppet?” You offered, hand straying to the necklace you wore.

Real Gale’s head cocked to the side in consideration before giving a short nod. “Yes, I suppose so.”

The puppet just stood there in the center of your bedroom and blinked. You hadn’t activated control yet so this very accurate puppet Gale was more or less a lifeless toy.

You’d met a version of him back in the Shadowlands, one that beckoned you to a clearing and to Gale. It had piqued your interest that night, he’d been corporeal in a way that most mirror images weren’t. But you’d forgotten about him for some time, other things taking precedence.

After about the tenth question regarding this puppet, Gale had offered to create him. It was more than an incantation, something requiring numerous ingredients to create the shell. You could now appreciate the work Gale had put into him while on the road, all an effort to make that night special.

The form wasn’t permanent, Gale assumed he’d last about a day unless dismissed. He also couldn’t withstand much in the way of damage, that didn’t matter tonight. Because as soon as Gale had offered to recreate him your mind had turned down a far less academic road. Which Gale had, of course, realized.

What he didn’t realize was that the reason you wanted to control the puppet was for a far more depraved reason than desiring a two-person threesome. You’d get to that.

“He’s very accurate,” you mused taking the time to appreciate that little fact.

The puppet was conjured naked (which explained why he’d worn Gale’s armor that night) and was very accurate in all ways. Gale seemed amused by your reaction. He was also the only one in the room with any clothes on. You’d stripped and climbed onto the bed not long after the puppet was made.

“So I just repeat the incantation and I’ll be in control of him?” You wanted to be certain.

“One must think in directives but yes,” Gale agreed, but he paused, “Are you sure you don’t wish me to control it?”

You shook your head, “I’m very certain of what I want.”

Your wizard had the sense of mind to look concerned.

You repeated the incantation as Gale had taught you and almost immediately you felt the link. It was not unlike the link the tadpoles had formed between you and the others, this felt more like being linked to emptiness.

All you had to think was about walking and he did. You were impressed, you’d assumed it would be clumsy like other magical creations but he did a very passable job of imitating Gale. Or maybe that was because your mind had given the puppet that knowledge. It was a strange thought and one you didn’t wish to focus on right now.

The puppet came to a stop before Gale once more.

“Shall we start?” Gale asked looking to you.

You nodded but the puppet didn’t move.

Gale glanced between the two of you for a moment. “Dear, what exactly did you have in mind?” His voice had risen.

You did your very best to adapt a wide-eyed pleading look, which was admittedly difficult given how turned on you were getting. With great joy you realized the puppet was doing the same. “I was thinking,” you drawled, “I could watch.”

Gale swallowed harshly. You didn’t know how to read the flush crawling across his skin, he didn’t seem angry though.

“Do you really think me that conceited?” He asked sounding offended.

Immediately, you shook your head. “No, it’s not you,” you reminded him rising up on your knees, about to go to him, “It’s me, I control him. So it would just be us, like normal.”

“This is very not normal,” Gale asserted.

“Is it really any different than when you pleasure yourself?”

“Yes.” Gale was very firm in that belief apparently.

You pouted. “I want to watch you fuck yourself,” you did your best to make it sound like the most normal request.

Gale froze and you breathed.

“If I say yes,” he began.

“Oh please,” you begged.

“If I say yes, you cannot breathe a word to anyone.”

“I will keep this locked in my head forever,” you promised.

Vaguely, you realized Gale was giving in rather quickly. Too quickly. It occurred to you, not for the first time, that this may not be the first time he’d considered fucking himself with this puppet. Or maybe it hadn’t been him those other times, maybe he’d created puppets of someone else.

Either way, his quick consideration left you with a million questions.

“He doesn’t feel,” Gale reminded you, “I had considered trying to find a way to give sensation feedback to the controller, but I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Now you were certain he’d at least considered this.

“He can speak though,” He continued unaware you were on to him, “try.”

You drew on the experience from your former parasite.

“Hello.” The puppet spoke.

“Oh,” you said breathlessly, “I can do a lot with this.”

Gale, again, had the sense of mind to appear a bit alarmed by your reactions. You grinned at him, wickedly.

The puppet reached forward and place a hand on Gale’s hip, fingers holding on loosely to the material of his shirt that hung there.

“Are you sure?” The puppet spoke.

Gale was enraptured by the puppet now, eyes skating over its form. Then he nodded, licking his lips as he did. You smiled, and the puppet did as well. Wizards and their egos.

Gale was unusually passive as the puppet removed his shirt. Not resistant just not participating as you’d hoped.

“Touch me,” the puppet said, and delighted you realized his intonation changed at your whim.

Gale’s eyes dashed to yours. You pouted rather dramatically, very careful to not transfer this to the puppet. Gale reached out and resting his hand against the puppet’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly enough for you to continue. He was pliant as the puppet pulled down his pants, instead of letting them fall to the floor he knelt, guiding them the whole way.

Gale’s brain may have been unsure, but already his cock was interested.

The puppet remained kneeling, though he braced his hands on Gale’s thighs, looking up at him.

Your breath was stolen for a moment, immensely distracted by the tableau in front of you.

Slowly, giving Gale all the time in the world to back out, the puppet leaned towards his cock. When Gale didn’t object, the puppet pulled him into it’s mouth. Gale moaned, his head dropping back. This part would be a little tricky, you realized, normally, this was done by sensation. Not knowledge.

“I need you to help here,” you warned him, “don’t hold back.”

Gale nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did.

The puppet began working it’s tongue. Gale moaned, a hand immediately coming up to thread through it’s hair. His hair.

You drew on every memory where you’d been in the puppet’s place. It seemed enough because Gale was moaning freely. The brief glimpses you caught of his cock when the puppet pulled back confirmed he was completely hard now.

“This is very, very wrong,” Gale groaned, in contrast to his words though, his grip in the puppet’s hair had tightened.

You saw an opportunity.

The puppet pulled back. “Fuck my mouth?” it pleaded, turning overly familiar puppy dog eyes upwards.

Gale looked down, eyes blown wide before looking to you. “Is that… is that how I sound?” he was torn between the two of you.

You laughed, “yes and no. But,” you supplied helpfully, “that is how you look.”

Gale swore but gripped his cock. He led it back to the puppet who eagerly swallowed it down. Both of Gale’s hand went to it’s hair though he paused. You worked hard to remember the feeling of your own throat when you went pliant below someone. Subconsciously your own muscles did just that. It worked, it seemed, because Gale slowly began thrusting into the puppet’s mouth.

As you watched Gale fuck his own mouth, you slid your hand between your thighs. Unsurprisingly, you were wet, you had been just at the idea of this little venture. But to see it actually come to life was lighting things within you that could not be normal.

You’d never been normal.

Gingerly you began rubbing your clit, careful not to lose focus on the puppet’s controls. You moaned, and then the puppet did. Gale followed, enjoying whatever sensation the sound had brought on. He was fucking into the puppet’s mouth far rougher than he’d ever dared to do to yours.

You rolled your flattened tongue, imagining the weight of Gale’s cock on it. Gale cursed under his breath, hips slamming into it in a way that would have damaged a real person.

You were thrilled to see him this uncontrolled.

“I dont…” Gale began, and immediately, the puppet stopped it’s ministrations with it’s mouth. “I don’t want to come in his mouth,” Gale continued after taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Do you want to fuck me, or him?” You asked breathlessly.

“You, always,” Gale answered pulling away from the puppet.

Quickly, you straightened your legs, and then he was there. Gale’s fingers found your center before he’d even gotten onto the bed. One digit immediately slid into you.

“You’re so wet,” He said sliding his finger in and out of you, you whined, falling back onto your elbows. “There is so much wrong with us,” Gale said softly before adding a second finger.

You smiled, happy he hadn’t singled you out in the wrongness of this situation. Instead, it was the two of you together, as it would always be. You moved the puppet behind him, taking care for it to walk noisily so as not to take Gale off guard.

“Oil on his fingers,” you directed, the puppet lifted it’s hand.

Gale pivoted slightly and then there was as sheen across the puppet’s fingers, dripping down it’s palm.

“You inside me first” you directed breathlessly.

Gale grabbed your hips and dragged you further down the bed. In the same motion, he slid into you. You moaned. Locking your legs around Gale’s thigh you shook your head in an effort to focus. The puppet inched forward a little and when Gale’s head dropped down into your shoulder you knew you’d been successful.

For a beat the slick sounds in the room came from only the puppet as he worked his oiled finger into Gale. You felt when he hit home, Gale’s cock twitching inside you. A short time later Gale began to move inside you finally. Almost immediately he was fucking you hard, no doubt slamming his hips back onto the puppet’s fingers.

You moaned at the thought, desperately wishing you could see. Gradually it became difficult to focus both on the puppet and your own arousal building as Gale fucked into you.

“Fuck,” You moaned, hand gripping his shoulder as your head fell back onto the bed, “I can’t keep-”

Whatever else you wanted to say was lost as Gale grabbed your leg to pull it up, thrusting into you deeper now.

“Let go,” Gale ground out through his teeth.

And you did. You came with a yell hips snapping up to meet Gale’s. He followed not long after, spilling into you with a groan, head buried into your shoulder.

As you came back to yourself, you moved the puppet away. Gale keened into your skin as the puppet pulled his fingers from him. You reached up and pulled the necklace from around your neck, it dragged through your sweat-slick skin.

“I would not be opposed to doing that again,” you said breathily.

Gale, the real one, groaned.

#Gale x reader #Gale x tav #Gale x Gale #???????#selfcest #kinktober 2023 #I will not be held accountable for this work #hahaha this is probably some of the weirdest shit I've written #sorry it's so late I've been sitting in the rain at soccer games all day #only to come how and write this offense to the gods

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ikarasu · 10 months

Text

🍫White Chocolate🍫

Yandere Carlo/P x Reader

Warning: spoilers, yandere behavior, broken bones, and death

P/Carlo’s Perspective: 🍫Dark Chocolate🍫

Final Part: 🥀Tummy Ache🥀

Word Count: 1715

🥀~��~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

At a young age, Carlo and I knew that we were to marry. My parents were successful vehicle inventors who were very interested in Geppetto’s works. Geppetto wanted his son to marry the perfect spouse. So our parents took an opportunity and formed an arranged marriage. I knew that Carlo hated me, because of the arrangement. Feeling that now he has no chance of experiencing real love. I, on the other hand, fell in love at first sight. Everything that Carlo did felt so honest and pure. I watched Carlo grow up into a fine young man, but our relationship never improved. He would always avoid me at any chance given. Yet I still loved him despite his bitter nature towards me. Loving Carlo was like savoring dark chocolate. It’s so pure and rich but leaves nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

As the plague worsened my family had us move away from Krat. Yet my parents still caught the disease and eventually passed away six months after contracting it. I returned to Krat in hopes of finding Geppetto and Carlo. Only to return to the beginning of the puppet frenzy. I found Geppetto and was told of Carlo’s passing before he rushed me to take refuge at The Krat Hotel with a few other survivors.

I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve taken refuge here. But I’ve grown to enjoy the company of others. Usually, I help around with Polendina or chat with Sophia and Eugénie. I have not heard news from Geppetto recently, and I can’t help but worry. Leading me to think about Carlo and how I wasn’t there for his final moments. It hurts to think that I never got to say bye and tell him the truth about my feelings.

The loud creaking of the front entrance doors opening pulls me out of my thoughts. Like a bitter pill, I swallow up my feelings and head downstairs to greet whoever had just entered. As I head down the stairs I hear Sophia chatting. ‘It must be another survivor…’

“Sophia, who’s the newcomer-“

I stop as I look up at the face of the newcomer. Suddenly I feel sick to the stomach and I take a step back.

“I-it can’t be….”

There stands a confused familiar face. His unfamiliar blue eyes are glassy and dull, but his freckles are a constellation of stars I have memorized by heart.

“Oh, (name), I want you to meet P” Sophia says as she looks over at me with concern.

P raises his hand slowly as he stares at me. He almost touches my hand but I run. I headed to my room as fast as I could. My breath is erratic, my heart is pounding, and my mind is spinning. I feel like the world is collapsing on me and I fall to my knees and cry alone in my room.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

*knock knock*

I refuse to move from my bed after the events from earlier today. The confusion and feeling of being lied to is conflicted inside me.

“(Name)… it’s me, Geppetto. May I come in?”

He sighs as he hears no response from me.

“I’m assuming you met my latest creation…..”

The door whips open revealing my angered expression.

“Is that what he is, Geppetto? Just another toy to you?! Some sick way to make up for your shortcomings as a father figure to Carlo?!”

My fists are trembling and the hot tears spill from my cheeks. Geppetto holds one of my fists gently before making me look at his face.

“Let me explain everything to you… there’s more to it…”

We sit in my room as Geppetto explains his whole plan to revive Carlo. I hesitate at his words, everything about it seems inhumane. Yet he tries to reassure me with promises of me getting my chance to love Carlo again.

“I can’t Geppetto… none of this sounds right. I miss Carlo as well, deeply, but this is too much for me.”

I guide him out of my room to let me process everything that has been said.

The next few days I try to go through my day as per usual. Trying to ignore those same blue glassy eyes following my form as I pass by. Despite their beautiful color, they’re too fake and doll-like for me to appreciate.

I go to the library to browse some books to read. On the top shelf, I notice one of my favorite books sitting on it. I try to reach for it as best as I can. My fingers barely graze the spine of the book before suddenly I feel a cold form pressing against my back. A larger hand easily grabs the book I was reaching for. Turning around slowly I refuse to meet his eyes. I quickly take the book and give him a quiet thank you before running off. If I had taken the time to look I would’ve noticed the way his eyes showed something new, longing.

I try to avoid him whenever he is in the hotel. Until one day I was feeling more somber than usual. Today would’ve been Carlo’s birthday. Sitting alone at the piano I play an old tune, one that I thought Carlo would’ve enjoyed if he and I got along. The tears drip from my face as I continue to play. Quietly the front doors of the hotel open and P walks in. P’s footsteps go unnoticed by me as I drown myself in my sorrows. He feels something deep down in his heart pulling him towards me. The feelings ran deep and made the ergo in his veins flow more. He felt like he had no control over these feelings. Remembering Geppetto’s words in his office after defeating the watchman at the city hall.

“(Name) and Carlo were made for each other. Treat them well, even if they’re a bit rough around the edges at the moment. They’ll come around sooner or later”

The song comes to an end and the room is now only filled with the sounds of my quiet sobs. I gasp as I feel a hand touch my shoulder. P stands there and looks at me with concern.

“Go away… You’re the last ‘thing’ I want to see at the moment” I say resentfully.

Instead of listening to me, P pulls me into a hug. I freeze and then I let myself melt. Carlo would’ve never hugged me so comfortably. The tears spill more and for once I look back at those blue eyes. He stares at me so lovingly and kindly. Maybe this is okay…maybe I can love again…

As P progressed on his journey our relationship bloomed. He was patient when I was stubborn and he was loving when I needed it. Loving P was like milk chocolate. The perfect balance of sweetness with no bitter aftertaste. He was perfect and I gave him all of my heart.

P came into the hotel and came to my room. One look at his face and I knew what he was thinking. We lay together one last time before he had to go off and finish off Simon. Our tears and hearts are shared one last time.

“I promise to come back… I won’t leave you again, (name)”

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Screams are all I can hear ringing through the hotel. I hide in my room crying as I fear for my life. They’re all gone. Eugénie, Venigni, Antonia, Polendina, Pulcinella… they’re all gone. I hear footsteps approaching my room and I feel sick to my stomach. I pray for them to turn away and move on. It’s silent for a few moments before I hear the handle of the door turn. I hid in my wardrobe before the door could be opened. Holding my breath as I stare through the crack of my wardrobe. The room is empty and everything is silent. I let out my breath before suddenly brown eyes appeared in front of the crack. A scream is ripped out of my throat as I’m yanked out of the wardrobe.

“My love~ I promised you I would come back”

I tried to push at his form but his body wouldn’t budge an inch. Staring at familiar brown eyes that are now filled with bloodlust. Familiar constellations of freckles are nowhere to be found. Only splatters of blood and oil speckle his face.

“Let me go! You monster!” I scream as I continue to thrash in his iron-like hold.

“Now, now, that’s not very nice of you love~” he says in a sugary tone

I continue to thrash as tears fall from my eyes. Praying to any gods that all of this is just some nightmare. Suddenly he pulls me by the hair to force me to look at him. His tone taking a dangerous turn.

“Father promised me that we were made for each other. So start acting like it, love.”

I tremble in his hold submissively. He smiles and releases my hair before leaning closer to my face.

“That’s a good spouse~”

Before he could lean any closer I grabbed the vase behind him and smashed it on his head. He staggers and I make a run for it. Skipping over steps as I make a dash for the exit. I manage to run out the doors into the rainy entrance before I’m tackled down. Grabbing onto my leg he gives me a dangerous look. A sickening crack and a scream were all that could be heard. I cry as the pain shoots up my leg.

“See? That’s what happens when you’re not a good spouse. I have to clip your wings” his tone has returned to that sickening sweet voice.

He pulls out a ring and looks at me. I try to crawl away but he pulls me back cradling me. I cry as he slips on the ring and pulls me into a possessive kiss.

“That’s right, love! Cry! It’s a joyous moment for both of us. Now we can be together forever just as we were meant to be”

This ‘love’ is like white chocolate. Its overly sweet taste is there to cover up the fact it isn’t chocolate. Only this time it’s all that you have left.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Notes: I will edit this eventually rippppp

#lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #pinocchio #p #lies of p pinocchio x reader #pinocchio x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #p x reader #lies of p fanfic #gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic #lies of p carlo x reader #yandere carlo #lies of p carlo

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dangerousduckcloud · 3 months

Text

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?” “Yeah, same.” He sat down on the couch, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

I've been updating daily, however I've noticed the quality is not quite good sometimes (today, for example), so I'll be taking longer to update, maybe once a week/2 weeks or so, I'm sorry for this, but I wish to write something of good quality

Chapter 6 < > Chapter 8

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

Fingers ghosting over the spines of the books, you're surprised to see so many titles familiar to you, from Lord of the Rings, Jurassic Park, all the way to Jane Austen books, some of them more worn than the others, a small smile creeping up your face at the thought of knowing just who read these books so many times.

A new question —added to the many that’ve appeared since you accepted you’re in some other reality— popped on your mind, if so many things in their world are similar to yours; people, social functions, historical events, what was so different that led yours not having superheroes and vigilantes? There’s no Gotham, no Metropolis, no Star City, nothing.

Did this mean they simply do not exist, or they just didn’t want to make themselves known? Here, everything started with Superman. If he existed in your reality, what made him not want to help people? Had he been captured by the government instead of the Kents? Had his ship landed someplace else? Are there other planets out there?

So many questions, so many possibilities, not a single answer.

The book authors are the same as your world; Tolkien, Crichton, Austen… Not just a coincidence in people here writing books with the same title, so it begs the question of a point you mentioned last night.

Does this mean there's another version of yourself in this world? Is there a different version of them in yours?

“You alright?”

It didn’t matter how many times you would hear that voice, it will always send shivers down your body, making your heart skip a beat. Turning around towards the voice, the early morning light deluged him in a pink-golden light, water droplets falling to the floor, he was only dressed in black pants and a tight black shirt that didn’t seem comfortable, his muscly arms threatening to rip it apart.

His unnaturally vibrant green eyes were more focused on the book you were holding —Little Women— rather than your face.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?”

“Yeah, same.” He sat down on the couch, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

“I don’t think it is.” With long strides, you sat down next to him, an ample space left between you two. “The fact that you’re here with me discussing about this mess should mean that you’re more than just a puppet created to entertain. You’re a human being, with feelings, thoughts, ideas… Who knows, maybe someone from your world came to mine and wrote your life story.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, of course. If you were simply the mere product of a writer, how could I be here, when I’m not?” This whole time he’d been looking at the floor, lost in his mind, finally turning to look you in the eyes. “I’m as lost in this as you are, but the one thing I’m certain, is that you’re real, Jason. As real as the moon and the stars.”

It was immensely evident something continued plaguing his mind, his eyebrows drawn and eyes unfocused, you knew how lost he must feel like, having felt the same just the night before, but whatever conclusion he came to, his face searched yours once again, a tired, tight smile on his face.

----

Breakfast had been a chaotic affair, having to explain to the rest of the family present in the house what endured after you woke up in the cave, Tim and Cass having long gone to sleep after they were sure you were safe.

“So, we’re not real?”

“You are, just not in my world. At least not like this.” Your meal had long gotten cold, being bombarded with questions that left you no time to take a bite. “There are no vigilantes there. Also, I’m sorry, Tim.”

“What for?”

“I thought you were delusional.”

Everyone in the table laughed, with Tim throwing you a harmless glower, even Alfred coughing to hide his smile.

“This is intriguing.”

You nodded at Cass’ response, at last grabbing your fork to eat your cold scrambled eggs, attempting not to make faces at the taste.

“So…” Tim spoke once again after refiling his cup of coffee for the third time. “Everything that we’ve suffered, is all just because someone wrote it?”

All eyes were laid on you, your face pale and mouth dry suddenly.

You couldn’t say no, because you still didn’t know how this worked, and you didn’t think you’ll ever find out, was your world shaping theirs, or was it theirs shaping the stories you were shown?

But you also didn’t want to say yes, because that would mean…

Unconsciously, your eyes wandered over to Jason, eyes locking for a second, his neutral demeanor changing into a raised eyebrow.

“Why did I die?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Cass raised a brow as well, her words clipped. “You’re lying.”

It was way better when you still thought they were just crazy, with no interrogations to interrupt your breakfast.

“There… There was a poll.” Avoiding everyone’s faces, you spoke to the table, voice as small as possible, however, with them being the detectives they were, they still could make out your words, if the gasps were any indication.

“A poll?” Jason reiterated, outraged. When you looked up, green eyes filled with hate was the only thing you could focus on. “A poll to decide my fate? A fucking poll?”

“I—Jason, they—”

“They what? Why would they do something like this!?” His eyes were glowing, hands closing into fists. “I was fifteen! Why would you do this? Who the fuck would think of killing a teenager!?”

“Wh—Me!?” You stood up, chair dragging behind you. “Jason, I wasn’t even born when that happened! And—and from what I read; they didn’t even think they’d do it.”

“Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Tears were prickling your eyes, mouth left hanging open. He had every right to be angry, everyone would, however the hate directed to you was unwarranted. The rest of them were looking at you, faces unreadable, except Dick’s, his eyes red, but whether it was for the current situation or remembering Jason’s murder, you didn’t know, maybe it was both.

It was clear none would come to your rescue, too disgruntled and sorrowful on Jason’s behalf.

“What do you mean you weren’t even born?” Tim asked, his investigative soul winning against his feelings. Or maybe this was his way to deal with the pain. “You’re Jason’s age, you were fourteen.”

Sniffing, you cleared your tears with the sleeves of your shirt. “I don’t know how time works here. That happened in the… The eighties, I think. I was born in the 2000’s.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He mumbled. “The years…” And without another word, he left the kitchen, quickly followed by Jason, although taking another path.

“Jason, wait.”

But your words fell on deaf ears. You hadn’t known Jason for a day, and he already hated you.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing for everything you’d done and everything you didn’t, you walked out the kitchen as well, not a clear destination in mind.

#jason todd #the red hood #redhood #red hood #x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #batman #dick grayson #robin #batfam #tim drake #bruce wayne #nightwing #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x fem!reader #cass cain #cassandra cain

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thewritetofreespeech · 7 months

Note

Hey! How are you? May I request Vanitas with a lover who's got the power to manipulate cloths and textiles?

“Vanitas- san! Do something!”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. For the first time since setting on this quest to save vampire kind from the Charlatan and their corruption, Vanitas was truly terrified.

He never dreamed in a million years that it would get to [Y/N]. Get to someone he cared about.

He always thought they were so strong. Confident. Happy. The kind of person who would never fall for the dirty tricks of a shadow or be touched by their wicked claws.

But as he stood there in the ruins of their shop. Their beautiful dresses and shirts littering their air like confetti, while bolts of fabric attacked their friend Noé like tentacles, their mannequin like body attacking in stiff puppet like movements instead of the fluid beauty they had when they sewed their creations, he realized how wrong he had been.

“Vanitas! Please come to your senses! I can’t hold them off much longer without hurting them! I don’t want to do that!”

Vanitas snapped out of his daze at the second call of his name by Noé. Quickly snapping his book open and letting the pages guide on their own as they burned blue. “[Y/N]! I know you can hear me in there!” His call got their attention, and the pages burned brighter as the room was engulfed in their light. “Ah…so that’s your true name. I should have guessed. René! Master of the weave!”

The monster screamed in pain at its defeat. Burning away by the blue of his book until all that was left was his typical, beautiful [Y/N]. “Are they alright? Do you think they’ll be ok?” Noé asked as they both rushed to their side.

“They…they look alright.” Vanitas couldn’t be sure, but he hoped he was right.

[Y/N] stirred in his arms. Eyes fluttering open to look up at him. “Vanitas…”

“It’s ok [Y/N]. I’m here now.”

They would all worry about the destroyed shop later, and the glass digging into his knees. Right now, all he cared about was [Y/N] was safe. That’s all that mattered to him.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#vanitas of the blue moon #vanitas #vanitas no carte imagine #vanitas no carte scenarios #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas x reader #vanitas no carte x reader #imagine #scenarios #female reader #noe archiviste

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ash-arts-but-sinful · 11 months

Note

Came from your thought of Pinocchio being jealous and if your up to it would you be willing to expand that I’m thirsty for this puppet and if I’m honest jealous puppet boy might quench that.

I don’t think the thirst for him will ever be quenched honestly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try LMAO here’s something sweet and silly for you!

You find it adorable when he gets jealous and you know it’s something he’s working on. Emotions are something comepletely foreign to him, but luckily his jealously has never felt malicious or spiteful. It has been a tad ridiculous however with three prime examples

First was Venigni. You and Pinocchio had been practically giving Antonia her own little recital, with him on the piano and you doing vocals. You two are so into your little performance you don’t even notice Venigni enter the room, but when you do only you pause to greet him, Pinocchio choosing instead to nod whilst continuing to play the ivory keys.

“Well if it isn’t my favourite musical duo.” He’d exclaimed as he swaggered into the room. Venigni held his hand out towards you and of course you reciprocated, gently placing your own in his and he gave a polite chaste kiss to your knuckles. “You sound as lovely as always.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but was cut off by the abrupt sound of slammed keys. You and Venigni both turned to face Pinocchio, his expression had turned pinch, but he continued to play as if nothing had happened.

Next was Pinocchio’s own father. Gepetto had needed to make some quick upgrades to his son’s inner workings and this time you were allowed to watch. You sat right next to your boyfriend, watching intently as the older man was quick to open Pinocchio’s chassis and get to work.

Now part of the reason you were allowed to sit in this time was to lend Gepetto a hand, literally if need be. Getting up constantly to grab something from the other side of the room is taxing on the knees after all, not to mention the other reason was because Pinocchio knew you were curious and wouldn’t budge until you got to stay.

You were, thankfully, allowed to ask questions and you wasted no time in doing so. A smile graced Pinocchio’s lips as he watched you enthusiastically chat away with his father, ocassionally handing him something he may have needed at the time.

“You’re a good assistant, bright and very curious.” Gepetto said, “Perhaps I’ll have to steal some of your time between my son’s vists, hm?”

You brightened at that, “Really? I’d love to learn more about-“

Your response was cut off by the sound of splintering and snapping wood. Your attention was drawn to the now destroyed remains of the arm rests of Pinocchio’s chair. Whether or not his father knew what was going on didn’t show as he proceeded to scold Pinocchio’s actions, citing how Krat’s current state would make it impossible to get a replacement.

For what it worth your boyfriend looked genuinely remorseful when he mumbled that sorry.

The most ridiculous instance had been Spring. That’s right, the cat. You were on the second floor by the stacked luggage the cat loved to frequent, lavishing him with attention like you usually did. Spring had just started purring when you felt a set of arms wind their way around torso, the culprits chest pressing against your back in the process.

“Hey, pretty boy.” You greeted as you continued to pet the cat, leaning slightly back against Pinocchio’s chest in the process. “Are you heading back out soon?”

His response was to squeeze you a little tighter, so yes, he unfortunately was. You sighed, deciding to take that moment to just linger in his quiet presence before he had to go. You felt him nuzzle into the side of your head and you heard him inhale before… was that clicking? Or was it grinding?

What ever it was you felt it vibrate against your back, making you startle, Pinocchio’s arms stopping you in your attempts to turn to face him. “Whoa whoa, is everything okay? What’s that sound? Are you okay?” You couldn’t turn your body, but you could turn your head at least.

He was refusing to make eye contact with you, you knew his face would be red if he was capable of it, but you could tell by the look on his face that he was embarassed. Still the noise continued, something of a deep reverberating grinding which caused a constant click to sound. Whatever was making the sound in him was strong enough that you were able to feel it rumbling away in him, it almost sounded like how a cat purrs.

Then it clicked.

“Are you… jealous of Spring?” You asked incredulously. You were 100% certain that’s what it was, but you still needed that confirmation.

You got the answer when you heard the ‘purring’ falter slightly as he hid his face in your neck. You stood there shocked for almost a full minute before you let out a soft snort, your free hand finding it’s way into his soft chestnut hair.

“Oh, my sweet boy.”

The ‘purring’ got louder at that.

#lies of p #sfw #pinocchio x reader #pinocchio #anon

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fourthwingfan · 5 months

Text

Madness - Chapter 19

Surpriiisee. I'm done with the next chapter.

And thank you, you are all so supportive. ❤️

Enjoy! :)

In response to the Great War, dragons claimed the western lands and gryphons the central ones, abandoning the Barrens and the memory of General Daramor, who nearly destroyed the Continent with his army. Our allies sailed home and we began a period of peace and prosperity as the provinces of Navarre united for the first time behind the safety of our wards, under the protection of the first bonded riders.

—Navarre, an Unedited History by Colonel Lewis Markham

What. The. Hell.

It’s as if everyone in the room has turned to stone, but I know that can’t be true. I can see Violet as she moves away from the guy who holds her. I can feel the guy’s warm hand in my hair, his skin malleable under my fingers as I shove his hand away from me.

And…I just stand there. What the hell?!

„Quickly, we need to move!” I wince at Vi’s hoarse voice as she breaks the silence.

Complete, unearthly silence.

The clock on the desk isn’t tickin. No one breathes. Their gazes are frozen. To the left, the woman I sliced open is hunched over, and the man I stabbed is leaned against the wall on the right, staring in horror at his thigh.

I mark time in thunderous heartbeats as we stumble into the only open space in the room, but our path to the now-open door isn’t clear.

Xaden fills the doorway like some kind of dark, avenging angel, the messenger of the queen of the gods. He’s fully dressed, his face a mask of veritable rage as shadows curl from the walls on either side of him, hanging in midair.

For the first time since crossing the parapet, I’m so fucking relieved to see him that I could cry.

Violet gasps beside me – and chaos resumes.

„It’s about damned time.” Aon rumbles.

Xaden’s gaze snaps to mine, his onyx eyes flaring in shock for no longer than a millisecond before he strides forward, his shadows streaming before him as he stands at our side. He snaps his fingers and the room illuminates, mage lights hovering above us.

“You’re all fucking dead.” His voice is eerily calm and all the scarier for it.

Every head in the room turns.

“Riorson!” The man’s dagger clatters to the floor who held Violet.

“You think surrendering will save you?” Xaden’s lethally soft tone sends goose bumps up my arms. “It is against our code to attack another rider in their sleep.”

“But you know he never should have bonded her!” He puts his hands up, his palms facing us. “You of all people have reason enough to want the weakling dead. We’re just correcting a mistake.”

“Dragons don’t make mistakes.” Xaden’s shadows grab every assailant but that man by the throat, then constrict. They struggle, but it doesn’t matter. Their faces turn purple, the shadows holding tight as they sag to their knees, falling in an arc in front of me like lifeless puppets.

I can’t find it in my heart to pity them.

Xaden prowls forward as though he has all the time in the world and holds out his palm as yet another tendril of darkness lifts a discarded dagger from the floor.

“Let me explain.” The man eyes the dagger, and his hands tremble.

“I’ve heard everything I need to hear.” Xaden’s fingers curl around the hilt. “She should have killed, but she’s merciful. That’s not a flaw I possess.” He slashes forward so quickly that I barely catch the move, and his throat opens in a horizontal line, blood streaming down his neck and chest in a torrent.

He grabs for his throat, but it’s useless. He bleeds out in seconds, crumpling to the floor. A crimson puddle grows around him.

“Damn, Xaden.” Garrick walks in, sheathing his sword as his gaze rakes over the room. “No time for questioning?” His glance sweeps to us as if cataloging injuries, catching on my bloodied face.

“No need for it,” Xaden counters as Bodhi enters, doing the same quick assessment Garrick had. The similarity between the cousins still gives me pause. Bodhi has the same bronzed skin and strong brow line, but his features aren’t as angular as Xaden’s, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown. He looks like a softer, more approachable version of his older cousin, but my body doesn’t heat at the sight of him the way it does around Xaden.

An illogical laugh bubbles up through Violet’s lips, and all three men look at her like she’ve hit her head.

“Let me guess,” Bodhi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re on cleanup?”

“Call in help if you need it,” Xaden answers with a nod.

„Are you okay Vi?” I turn to her and gently grab her arms.

Oh my god. I have a terrible nasal voice. If that man wasn’t already dead I would kill him for breaking my nose.

„I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.” She repeats it again and again.

„Yes. You’re alive.” Xaden says as he steps over the bodies toward Violet’s armoire with her daggers in his hand.

Garrick and Bodhi haul out the first bodies.

„I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud.” She says and starts shaking like a leaf.

„It’s the shock.” I say gently and move her toward her chair. „Sit. It’ll be better, just breathe.”

„Are you hurt?” Xaden asks while whipping Violet’s cloak from its hook and retrieving a pair of boots. His words are clipped.

Silence.

“Come on, Violence.” His cajoling words are at odds with his terse tone as he folds the cloak over his arm and brings the boots through the remaining bodies he’s left on the floor. “Pull your shit together and tell me where you’re hurt.”

That nickname again.

“You’re breathing like crap, so I’m guessing it has to do with—”

“My ribs,” she finishes before he can guess. “The one by the bed hit the side of my ribs with the sword, but I think they’re just bruised.”

“Must have been a dull sword.” He cocks a dark eyebrow. “Unless it has something to do with why both of you sleep in your leather vest.”

“Trust him,” Aon demands.

“I have trust issues if you couldn’t tell. It’s not that easy.”

“It has to be for now. And I burn him alive if he ever hurts you.”

“It’s dragon-scale.” I say and move so that the light shines on it. “Mira made it for us.”

He glances between our bodies, his mouth tensing before he nods once.

„And you, Sunshine?” He asks before moving in front of me. „That’s a lot of blood.”

„Yeah, well not all of it is mine,” I shrug. „And maybe I pissed one of them off a bit, and he broke my nose.”

„You and your big mouth, Sunshine.” He sighs in exasperation.

Before I can argue that point, his gaze shifts to my face and narrows at what I imagine has to be incipient brusing. “I should have killed him slower.”

„And your ribs? He hit you really hard.” Violet asks from her seat.

„Sunshine?” Xaden asks with a raised eyebrow.

I sigh. Fine. „It hurts a little but my face is worse than that. Not worth mentioning.”

“Never lie to me.” He says it with such ferocity, bit out through gritted teeth.

„I would promise, but there are secrets I can’t tell you.” I whisper and I can hear the sadness in my voice. „Sometimes I have to put my life first. Secrets can kill you in the wrong hands.”

He looks at me with an indecipherable look, then nods.

„Then be honest with me when you can.” He says quietly and his gazes softens.

My heart flutters.

“My nose hurts, and my ribs too.” I admit.

“Let me see.” I open and shut my mouth twice. I don’t know what to say and I simply nod. I’m tired of arguing. I let him do what he wants. At least tonight I don’t have to control everything.

Two other men walk in through the open door, Garrick and Bodhi following closely after. They’re all…dressed. Fully clothed at—I glance at the clock—two a.m.

“Take those two, and we’ll get the last ones,” Garrick orders, and the others get to work, carrying the last of the bodies out through the door. I can’t help but notice they all have rebellion relics shimmering up their arms, but I keep the observation to myself.

“Thank you,” Xaden says, then flicks his hand and the door shuts with a soft click. “Now, let me see your injuries. We’re wasting time.” He turns to Violet. „And you… go and get dressed.”

She must be quite shaken up because with a glance at me she goes to her armoire and does as he said.

I swallow, then nod.

He cradles my face in his hands and tilts my head to observe my face. I flinch when he lightly touch my nose.

„Sorry, Sunshine. But it’s not that bad.” He slowly drops his hand. „Nolon can mend it in the morning. Now let me see your ribs.”

I sigh. Better to know now if they’re broken anyway. I turn my back on him, but I can see his face in the full-length mirror. “You’ll have to—”

“I know how to handle a corset.” His jaw flexes once, and something that reminds me of raw hunger flitters across his expression before he locks it down, drawing my hair over my shoulder with surprising gentleness.

His fingers skim my bare skin and I suppress a shiver, locking my muscles so I don’t arch into his touch.

What the hell is wrong with me? There’s still blood on the floor, on me and yet my breaths are tight for the entirely wrong reason as he makes quick work of the laces, starting at the bottom. He wasn’t lying. He absolutely knows his way around a corset.

“How the hell do you get yourself into this thing every morning?” he asks, clearing his throat as inch after inch of my back is exposed.

“I’m freakishly flexible.” I answer over my shoulder and laugh at him. Our eyes meet, and warmth flutters through my stomach. The moment is gone as quickly as it came, and he pulls my armor apart, inspecting my right side. Gentle fingers stroke over the abused ribs, then prod carefully. Then he repeats it on the other side.

“You have one hell of a bruise, but I don’t think they’re broken.”

“That’s what I thought. Thank you for checking.” It should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t, even as he laces me back up, securing the ends.

“You’ll live.” He says as I turn around to face him.

„I’m ready. Where are we going?” Violet asks, and I can feel myself blushing.

Oh my god. She saw it all.

„Well… I should go and get dressed to. I’m not exactly decent.” I look at my corset and short.

„We don’t have time.” Xaden shakes his head. „Here, put it on.” He says as he shrugs off his flight jacket and gives it to me.

Without a word I take it from him.

“Let’s go.” He helps me put it on, like I’m something precious. Now I know I’m hallucinating it because I’m anything but precious to Xaden Riorson. He grasps my hand and tugs me into the hallway, Violet following us. His fingers are strong as they curl around mine, his grip firm but not too tight.

He gave me his jacket. It’s huge, and it has such a nice smell. It’s his scent. Mint and leather.

Every other door is shut. The attack wasn’t even loud enough to rouse the neighbors. We’d be dead by now if Xaden hadn’t shown up, even if we managed to get out of their hold. But how did that happen?

“Where are we going?” The hallways are dimly lit by blue mage lights, the kind that signal it’s still night for those without windows.

“Keep talking loud enough for others to hear, and someone will stop us before we get anywhere.”

“Can’t you just hide us in shadows or something?” Violet asks.

“Sure, because a giant black cloud moving down the hallway isn’t going to look more suspicious than a couple sneaking around, and you’re so small Violet, that nobody will notice you if you stay behind us.” He shoots us a look that keeps us from countering.

Point taken.

Not that we’re a couple.

Not that I wouldn’t climb the man like a tree if presented with the right set of circumstances. I cringe as we make it to the main hallway of the dormitory. There will never, ever be a right set of circumstances when it comes to him.

But in my defense, and in a sick, twisted way, his rescue was pretty damned hot, even if he is hauling me down the hallway at an untenable speed. Even if he only did it because Violet’s life is tied to his. My chest screams for a break, but there’s none to be found as he leads us past the spiral staircase that leads up to the second- and third-year dorms and into the rotunda.

Our boots against the marble floor are the only sounds as we pass into the academic wing. Instead of turning left, toward the sparring gym, he takes us right, down a set of stairs that I know leads to storage.

Halfway down the steps, he pauses, and I nearly run into the sword strapped to his back. Then he gestures with his right hand, keeping mine in his left.

Click. Xaden pushes on the stones and a hidden door swings open.

“Holy shit,” I whisper at the expansive tunnel revealed before us.

“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark.” He pulls me inside, and suffocating darkness envelops us as the door closes.

This is fine. This is absolutely fine. Just breathe.

“But just in case you are,” Xaden says, his voice at full volume as he snaps. A mage light hovers above our head, illuminating our surroundings.

“Thanks.” The tunnel is supported by arches of stone and the floor is smooth, as though it’s been traveled more than its entrance lets on. It smells like earth but isn’t dank, and it goes on for what seems like an eternity.

He drops my hand and starts walking. “Keep up.”

“You could—” Violet winces. “Be a little more considerate.” We trudge after him.

“I’m not going to baby you like Aetos does,” he says without turning around. “That’s only going to get you killed once we get out of Basgiath.”

“He doesn’t baby me.”

“He does and you know it. You hate it, too, if the vibe I’m picking up on is any indication.” He falls back to walk at our side. “Or did I read that wrong?”

“He thinks this place is too dangerous for someone…like me, and after what just happened, I’m not sure I can really argue with him. I was asleep. That’s the only time we’re supposed to be guaranteed safety around here. I don’t think I’ll bother sleeping again.” she shoots a look sideways at his profile. “And if you even think about suggesting that you sleep with me for safety from now on—”

He scoffs. “Hardly. I don’t fuck first-years—even when I was one—let alone…you.”

Ouch. There goes my fantasies. I’m a first-year after all. But deep in my heart I’m glad, that he is not attracted to Violet.

“Who said anything about fucking?” She fires back. “I’d have to be a masochist to sleep with you, and I can assure you, I’m not.”

“Masochist, huh?” A corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk.

“You hardly give off snuggly morning-after vibes.” A smile curves on her lips. “Unless you’re worried about me killing you while we sleep.” We round a corner, and the tunnel continues.

“I have zero concern about that. As violent as you are, and skilled with those daggers, I’m not even sure you could kill a fly. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you managed to wound them and never went for a kill shot.” He shoots a disapproving look her way.

“I’ve never killed anyone,” She whispers like it’s a secret.

“You’re going to have to get over that. All we are after graduation are weapons, and it’s best if we’re honed before leaving the gates.”

„That’s enough, both of you. You argue like children.” I roll my eyes. “Is that where we’re going? Are we leaving the gates?” I ask Xaden. I’ve lost all sense of direction in here.

“We’re going to ask Tairn what the hell just happened.” Xaden’s jaw flexes. “And I’m not talking about the attack. How the hell did they get past the locks?”

Violet shrugs but doesn’t explain.

“We’d better figure it out so it doesn’t happen again. I refuse to sleep on your fucking floor like some kind of guard dog.”

“Wait. This is another way to the flight field?” I do my best to mentally wall off the pain in my face. “Will you be there too?” I ask Aon.

“Naturally.”

“Are you going to tell me what that was in there?”

“I would if I knew.”

“Yes,” Xaden says, and the path curves again. “It’s not exactly common knowledge. And I’m going to ask you to tuck this little tunnel into the file of secrets you keep on my behalf.”

“Let me guess, and you’ll know if I tell?”

“Yes.” Another smirk appears, and I look away before he can catch me staring.

“Are you going to promise us another favor?” Violet asks. The path begins to climb, and the ascent is anything but gentle. Every breath reminds me of what happened less than an hour ago.

“Having one of my favors is more than enough, and we’ve already reached mutually assured destruction status, Sorrengail. Now, can you push through it, or do you need me to carry you?”

“That sounds like an insult, not an offer.”

“You’re catching on.” But his pace slows to match ours.

“What were you doing tonight anyway?” I ask curiously.

“What makes you ask?” His tone clearly insinuates that I shouldn’t. Too bad.

“You made it to Violet’s room within minutes, and you’re not exactly dressed for sleeping.” He’s strapped with a sword for crying out loud.

“Maybe I sleep in my armor, too.”

“Then you should pick more trustworthy bedmates.”

He snorts, a flash of a smile appearing for a heartbeat. A real one. Not the fake, forced sneer I’m used to seeing or the cocky little smirk. An honest, heart- stopping smile that I’m anything but immune to. It’s gone as fast as it appears, though.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” I ask. I’d be frustrated if I didn’t hurt so damned much. And I’m not even going to touch why he needed to haul us all the way to Tairn when obviously Violet can chat with him anytime she wants.

Unless he wants to talk to Tairn, which is…ballsy.

“Nope. Third-year business.” He lets go when we reach the stonewalled end of the tunnel. A few hand gestures and another click sounds before he pushes open the door.

We step out into crisp, freezingly cold November air.

“What the hell,” I whisper. The door is built into a stack of boulders on the eastern side of the field.

“It’s camouflaged.” Xaden waves a hand and the door closes, blending into the rock as if it’s a part of it.

There’s a sound I now recognize as the steady beat of wings, and I look up to see the four dragons block out the stars as they descend. The earth shudders as they land in front of us.

Tairn steps forward and Sgaeyl follows, her wings tucked in tight, her golden eyes narrowing on me.

„What have I done?” I ask Aon.

He stands next to Sgaeyl and snaps at her.

„Do not worry about it, little one. She’s always so grumpy.”

I try to disguise my laughter as a cough.

Andarna scurries between Sgaeyl’s claws, galloping toward us. She skids the last dozen feet, paws digging into the ground to stop just in front of Violet, bringing her nose to her ribs.

„What’s so funny?” Xaden looks at me.

„Aon. He said Sgaeyl is always grumpy. But so is he.” I smile at Aon. „They siblings after all.”

Sgaeyl turns her head and shots a menacing look toward Aon, before she lowers her head and stares at me.

She’s so close. I have never been so close to another dragon. But I keep eye contact with her. I’m not weak.

She huffs a breath in… approval?

“No broken bones,” I hear Violet, as she strokes her hand over the bumpy ridges of Andarna’s head. “They’re just bruised.”

“As sure as I can be.” She forces a smile.

“Yes, I want a word. What the hell kind of powers are you channeling to her?” Xaden demands, staring up at Tairn like he isn’t…Tairn.

Yep. Ballsy. Every muscle in my body locks, sure that Tairn is about to torch Xaden for impudence.

“He says—” Violet starts.

“I heard him,” Xaden counters, not sparing her a glance.

“You what?” My eyebrows hit my hairline, and Andarna retreats to stand with the others. Dragons only talk to their riders. That’s what I’ve always been taught.

“It’s absolutely my business when you expect me to protect her,” Xaden retorts, his voice rising.

Tairn’s head swivels in that snakelike motion that puts me on alert. He’s more than agitated.

“And I barely made it.” The words come out clipped through clenched teeth. “They would have been dead if I’d been thirty seconds later.”

Tairn’s chest rumbles with a growl.

“And I’d like to know what the fuck happened in there!”

I inhale sharply. „Xaden!” I shout and grab his arm. „Do you want to get yourself killed?”

I’ve never seen someone so much as dare to speak to another rider’s dragon, yet alone yell at one, especially not one as powerful as Tairn.

„Let him go. If Tairn wants to kill him, let him do it. I don’t want to look for another rider.” Aon steps closer to us.

„I knew that you love me.” I wink at him. „But I can’t watch it. All four are connected to each other. And Violet is important to me.”

„Just her?”

“We need to know what happened in that room.” Xaden’s dark gaze cuts through me like a knife for a millisecond before he glares back at Tairn.

Tairn’s mouth opens, his tongue curling in a motion I know all too well.

I pull on Xaden’s arm and I step in front of him.

„I’m so sorry that he’s rude to you, Tairn.” I say in my most polite voice. „He’s just a little freaked out. Don’t scorch him, please.”

In awe, Violet blinks up at the navy-blue daggertail as Xaden moves to my side. “She talked to me.”

“I know. I heard.” He folds his arms across his chest. “It’s because they’re mates. It’s the same reason I’m chained to you.”

What? They can…talk to each other? My chest hurts. Theoretically I knew it that they have a connection, but hearing it… it hurts.

I step away from them and I go over to Aon.

„Why am I here?” I ask him. „I mean I can’t hear half of the discussion.”

„I wanted to see you, to know that you’re all right.” He lowers his head and nudges me with his nose. „And unfortunately it seems the wingleader cares about you.”

„What? How do you know that?” I ask as I pet his nose.

„Sgaeyl likes to gossip. Now concentrate on the conversation, little one.”

I look at him in disbelief, but I nod and walk back to the others.

“You make it sound so pleasant.”

“It’s not.” Xaden turns to face Violet. “But you and I are exactly that, Violence. We’re chained. Tethered. You die, I die, so I damn well deserve to know how the hell you were under that man’s knife one second and across the room in another. Is that the signet power you’ve manifested with Tairn? Come clean. Now.” His eyes bore into her.

“I don’t know what happened,” She answers honestly.

Violet pivots to face the golden dragon, repeating what she said to us. „Nature likes all things in balance, that’s the first thing we’re taught.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Xaden asks Violet, not her.

Guess that means he can hear Tairn, but not Andarna.

“Feathertails shouldn’t bond because they can accidentally gift their powers to humans,” Violet continues. “Dragons can’t channel—not really—until we’re…they’re big, but they’re all born with something special.”

She relays the message. “Like a signet?” She asks out loud so Xaden and I can hear.

“Sgaeyl said, that no,” Aon tells me. “A signet is a combination of our power with your own ability to channel. It reflects who you are at the core of your being.”

Andarna sits up and tilts her head proudly.

“But I gave my gift directly to you. Because I’m still a feathertail.” Violet repeats again, staring at the smaller dragon. Almost nothing is known about feathertails because they’re never seen outside the Vale.

They’re guarded. They’re… I swallow. Wait. What did she say?

“You’re still a feathertail?” I look at Andarna in desbelief.

She blinks slowly and then cracks a yawn, her forked tail curling.

“You’re…you’re a hatchling,” Violet whispers.

Oh. Gods.

“She’s a what?” Xaden’s gaze swings between Andarna and Violet.

“How much faster?” Violet gasps. “She’s two years old!”

Sgaeyl chuffs at Andarna in obvious disapproval.

What an interesting conversation. I can’t hear half of what they say. Whatever, I will ask Vi later.

“Hold on. Is Andarna yours?” Xaden walks a step toward Sgaeyl, and the tone in his voice is one I’ve never heard. He’s…hurt. “Have you hidden a hatchling away from me these last two years?”

Sgaeyl blows out a blast of air that ruffles Xaden’s hair.

I look at Aon questioningly.

„Her parents passed before hatching.” He answers.

Tairn grumbles.

“Unpredictable?” Xaden questions.

“Gods, no. I could barely control it as a first-year.” Xaden shakes his head.

It’s odd to imagine Xaden ever not being in control.

“I would never!” Violet shakes her head.

Andarna’s head flops against Tairn’s leg. How could I not see it before now? Her rounded eyes, her paws…

“Of course, you wouldn’t know. Feathertails aren’t supposed to be seen,” Aon says.

“If leadership knew riders could take her gifts for themselves, rather than depending on their own signets…” Xaden says, staring at Andarna as she blinks slower and slower.

“She’d be hunted,” Violet finishes quietly.

“I won’t,” Violet promises as she looks toward the dragons. “Andarna, thank you. Whatever you did saved our lives.”

Her mouth drops open into another jaw-cracking yawn.

Violet stares at her and wobbles.

“What did she say?” Xaden asks her.

Tarin grumbles.

“Tell me what she said. Please.” His mouth tightens and I know that last bit cost him.

“She can pause time,” She forces out, stumbling over her words. “Briefly.”

Xaden’s features slacken, and for the first time, he doesn’t look like the stalwart, lethal wingleader I met on the parapet. He’s flat-out shocked as his gaze swings to Andarna. “You can stop time?”

“In small increments,” Vi whispers.

“In small increments,” Xaden echoes slowly, like he’s absorbing the information.

“And if I use it too much, I can kill you,” Violet says softly to Andarna.

Silence, then Violet breaks it.

“Is Professor Carr going to kill me, too?” Every gaze whips toward Violet.

“Why would you think that?” I ask her with concern.

“He killed Jeremiah.” She says in a trembling voice. “You saw him snap his neck like a twig right in front of the whole quadrant.”

“Jeremiah was an inntinnsic.” Xaden’s voice lowers. “A mind reader is a capital offense. You know that.”

“And what are they going to do if they find out I can stop time?”

Terror freezes the blood in my veins. “They’re not going to find out,” I promise her.

“No one is going to tell them. Not you. Not me. Not Aelin. Not them.” Xaden motions with one hand toward our dragons. “Understand?”

„Be safe, little one.” Aon says as they all bend slightly, then launch, wind gusting against my face. Andarna struggles, her wings beating twice as hard, and Tairn flies up underneath her, taking her weight and continuing on to the Vale.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about the time-stopping,” Xaden asks Violet as we head back into the tunnel, but it feels an awful lot like a command. “It’s not just for your safety. Rare abilities, when kept secret, are the most valuable form of currency we possess.”

My brow furrows as I study the stark lines of the rebellion relic that winds up his neck, marking him as a traitor’s son, warning everyone that he’s not to be trusted. But so far he has proven to be more reliable than my own father.

“We need to figure out how unbonded cadets got in your room,” Xaden says.

“There was a rider there,” Violet tells us. “Someone who ran away before Aelin arrived. She must have unlocked it from the outside.”

“Who?” I halt, taking her elbow gently and turning her toward us.

She shakes her head.

“At some point, you and I are going to have to start trusting each other, Sorrengail. The rest of our lives depend on it.” Fury swims in Xaden’s eyes. “Now tell me who.”

„Tell us, Vi. You know I will always believe you.” I say softly. „Who else was there?”

#fourth wing #fanfiction #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden x oc #xaden riorson x oc #tairn #sgaeyl #dragons #andarna #madness

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jaydizzel2844 · 11 months

Text

Marie x Jordan Drabble

No. 7

Marie opened her dorm room door to find Emma on her knees routing through her clothes drawers, which wasn’t surprising, and Jordan lying out on her bed in their smaller form, which was.

“I couldn’t have sworn my blue top was in here somewhere. Oh hey Marie.” Emma said finally noticing her arrival.

“Hey beautiful.” Jordan said from the bed.

“Jordan’s helping me pick an outfit for tonight.” Emma said answering Marie’s unasked question.

“Not everyone can look as effortlessly hot and cool as I do.” They said with a smirk.

“Oh effortlessly?” Marie asked in a teasing tone. “Hey babe, how long did you spend on your hair this morning?”

“I don’t want to answer that question. “ Jordan said with a smile.

They both know that Jordan has a 5 step routine for both lengths of their hair with their Dyson airwrap. It takes a lot of effort to look effortlessly good.

“Found it!” Emma exclaimed holding up the top she was looking for, Marie is more focused on the absolute bomb site that she has turned her side of the room into.

“Nice, that with the black jeans will look awesome.” Jordan said looking over at Emma and then immediately looking away and focusing on their fingernails when Emma started stripping.

“What are you wearing tonight?” Emma asked her, pulling the blue top over her head. “Need to borrow something?”

“No, I was thinking my new red shirt, not sure.” She said pulling out the top in question.

“Try it on.”

***

“It’s a little boob-y?” Marie said, adjusting the collar of the low cut shirt.

“I think you look great.” Jordan said, sitting up on the bed.

“It is,” Emma said ignoring Jordan. “But not too boob-y I think. You will probably get a lot more attention though. Do we need to worry about Jordan having a possessive jealous freak out?”

It was clearly a joke but Jordan jumped in to defend themselves. “Excuse me, I am an adult who can control myself. If anyone does anything inappropriate or makes her uncomfortable I will hit them but that’s beside the point.“

“Calm down, she’s messing with you.” Marie said, going over to give them a quick kiss. “I’ll wear it, just need to change my pants and I’m ready to go.”

“Great, It’ll be a nice change of pace to have your partner spend the whole night staring at your tits rather than you ass.” Emma joked.

“Hey! I’m right here.” Jordan said trying, and failing, to sound offended and cover their laugh.

Emma laughed in response.

“Well your partner fucks puppets.” Was Jordan’s comeback.

“No he doesn’t. “ Emma said, threw giggles.

“Yeah he does, spends his whole day putting his hands inside them, he probably puts his dick in there too.”

“Can you two please stop?” Marie asks.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan x marie #marie moreau #limoreau #emma meyer

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glitterrosesnzz · 9 months

Text

unnecessary things

man this is SO LATE but i finished writing a b-day snz fic for W/anderer!!!

word count: 1k

“Hh-hH’Nxt!!”

Aether froze mid-step, looking over his shoulder at where the Wanderer was standing behind him, avoiding eye contact.

“...Was that a sneeze?” Aether asked, turning around fully to face him. The Wanderer tsked, tilting his hat down so that Aether couldn’t see his eyes.

“You must be hearing things… maybe you should go get your ears checked.” He said, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m nothing more than a puppet. I don’t do such unnecessary things.”

“Oh, really?” Aether started walking towards the other, smirking a little when the Wanderer took an instinctive step back. “Then surely you wouldn’t mind if I tested a few things, would you?”

“And just what gives you the impression that I’m going to let you do that?”

“Because if you don’t, then I’ll know for sure that you were lying to me just now.”

“...Tch. Whatever.” The Wanderer slowly moved to sit down on the ground. “Have your fun. You’ll soon see that this is pointless.”

“We’ll see about that.” Aether kneeled down in front of him, rummaging around in his bag for something to make the other sneeze, but… hm. Now that he was thinking about it, what would make a puppet sneeze? The Wanderer was definitely capable of sneezing, Aether knew that what he had heard had not just been his mind playing tricks on him, but what had even set him off in the first place? Had it just been random?

“We don’t have all day you know.” The Wanderer said, tapping his finger on his knee impatiently, seemingly bored already. “Hurry up and get this over with.”

Huffing out a breath, Aether abandoned the useless contents of his bag, and decided to pick one of the longer pieces of grass surrounding the two of them. The Wanderer smirked.

“Seriously? A plant? Need I remind you that I was almost a god, a strand of grass isn’t going to affect me.”

“Oh, just shut up already.” A piece of grass wouldn’t have been Aether’s first pick either, but it was the best thing he had right now. Reaching out, he gently grabbed hold of the Wanderer’s chin, tilting the other’s head to have a slightly better angle. Surprisingly, the Wanderer didn’t protest this motion, instead remaining silent as Aether began to swish the piece of grass back and forth.

After a few minutes or so of no reaction, Aether let out a slightly frustrated noise, briefly pulling the grass away in order to lightly flick the Wanderer’s nose.

“You do realize that refusing to breathe implies that I was right, right?” Aether asked. The Wanderer blinked- seemingly surprised at having been caught, before glaring at him. Aether didn’t rise to it, instead waiting patiently, blade of grass at the ready. After a moment of prolonged eye contact, the Wanderer reluctantly let out a breath.

It hitched soon after.

Aether’s face lit up as the Wanderer’s glare darkened.

“Don’t think that means anyth- hIH- h-hey!” The Wanderer’s expression started to twist into something else altogether as Aether immediately got right back to work, gently tilting the Wanderer’s head from side to side as he tried to find just the right angle. “W-wait- hiH… hEh…”

Aether stuck his tongue out slightly as he focused, twisting the grass back and forth. He must have briefly hit some sort of spot, if the way the Wanderer’s hitching breaths had momentarily pitched up was any indication, it was just a matter of finding that spot again. The Wanderer’s hands slowly lifted up-

“If you rub your nose or stop me, it means I win.” Aether deadpanned, and the Wanderer’s hands froze in place. From the way they were trembling slightly, it must be taking the Wanderer some effort to keep them from moving any further. Aether let out a small laugh. “Although, I’ve practically already won, considering you so obviously need to sneeze.”

“HihH- N-no I don-hH- hiIH-”

“Of course you do, listen to you!” Aether continued, “You can’t stop hitching like ‘heH’ and ‘hAH’-”

“Hh’nNxti!!” The Wanderer abruptly forcibly pulled away to stifle a sneeze into his hands. Aether paused, briefly shocked, before coming to a realization as the Wanderer’s breath hitched again.

“Wait, hold on-”

“S-shut, hEH-, shutup- hiH-”

“Did you sneeze just because I mimicked it?” Aether asked, watching in fascination as the Wanderer’s ears slowly turned a faint shade of red. “You did, didn’t you.”

The Wanderer shook his head in the negative, unable to speak as his breath hitched desperately.

“Hh- hEH’xNtiu!! Hh’Nxtii!!” He stifled two more sneezes into his hands. Aether let out a disapproving sound.

“C’mon now, don’t stifle, it’s bad for you.” He said, reaching out and grabbing hold of the Wanderer’s wrists. The Wanderer startled, leaning back-

Tilted off balance, the Wanderer went tumbling backwards, Aether being slightly dragged with him. Aether let out a small yelp, quickly reorienting himself, blinking to discover that the Wanderer’s hat had fallen off in the brief movement-

And that he currently practically had the Wanderer pinned to the ground.

…Hm. Well, actually… he could roll with this.

“Get off of me.” The Wanderer managed to hiss out- seemingly practically biting his tongue before his breath could hitch again.

“Nu-uh, I don’t think I will.” Aether smirked as the Wanderer choked back another hitching breath. “Don’t hold back on my account. Or, maybe, do you need me to teach you how to sneeze?”

“D-don’t-”

“You already have the ‘hiIH-’ and ‘hEH-’ part down, now you just need the-”

“Hh- hiH’IsHKiu!!”

“There you go!” Aether laughed despite the strong surge of anemo energy, leaning into his geo affinity to remain unaffected. “Now was that so hard-”

“Hh’shKiu!! Hih- hEH’inKshii! F-fuck- hH’iKshiu!!”

“Bless you!” Aether let go of the Wanderer’s wrists, getting off of him as the other sat up, breath still hitching. “Maybe this was a bit too much, huh?”

“Hh’NxTtii!!” Attempting to stifle again did the Wanderer no favours as his next hitching breath reached a much more desperate pitch. “HhEH- hH’iSHiu!! Heh’ShKii!! H’eshii!! Hh- hIH- hhEH’inKShiu!!”

Aether watched in silence as the Wanderer sniffled, rubbing his nose against his sleeve.

“So…” He started, after a significant number of seconds had passed without another hitching breath from the other. “What was that about not needing to do ‘unnecessary things’, again?”

The Wanderer paused in the middle of retrieving his hat to give him a glare. (With his hair mussed up from both the tumble and the sneezing fit though, Aether couldn’t help but imagine a hissing kitten.)

“...Shut up.” The Wanderer muttered, before pitching his voice louder. “If you’ve finished amusing yourself with childish games, we have stuff to do.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Aether rolled his eyes, “Just know that I will be remembering this.”

The Wanderer said nothing in response, walking past him, but Aether couldn’t help but smirk as he noticed the faint blush on the other’s face.

#Gen/shin Imp/act #snz #snz fic #i'm saving the perfume concept for a later day so have fun with this in the meantime #i think you'll be able to pinpoint the exact moment i went ''lets get self indulgent with this'' dhfksjdlfkjds

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