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klausysworld · 2 months

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Sinful

Klaus had become, to an extent, addicted to sex.

The amount of time he had spent indulging in his deepest fantasies over the course of a thousand years was unbelievable.

He had learned how to please himself and others.

He was able to tell what people liked or wanted just by their body language. He was able to tell what their darkest desires were.

Some girls were shyer with what they wanted, they would make him work for it and tease him. Klaus learned to enjoy the chase, the game of catching the girl and finally unraveling all those dirty little thoughts and playing with his new toy until she was all tired out and used.

Klaus often could't help himself but ruin women whenever they let him. The knowledge that they were his to break and claim turned him on enough and it was so easy for a man like him to push their limits and get whatever he wanted from them.

Girls would fall to their knees for him. The image of legs spreading was permanently engraved into his mind and the sweet scent of sex always span through his head.

As the centuries past by, woman had gotten a lot friskier. Much more forward and confident which made Klaus's desires much easier achieved. Especially in recent years, it meant he had been partaking in many more types of play.

From being in sex dungeons where he was able to literally use woman as personal fuck dolls to having someone restrain him and use him in return. There was very little Klaus would ever not do. There was also very little Klaus had not done aalready.

It was because of this, all this experience that he knew a girl like Y/n when he saw one.

She had been eyeing him as though he were nothing more than a piece of meat for her to sink her teeth into and as he trailed his eyes over her, he found himself doing the same back.

Y/n was what Klaus would call 'sex on a stick'.

She was gorgeous, flawless actually.

Legs long and toned, ass firm and round, waist tight and slender, breasts ample and tender, neck utterly delicious and biteable attached to a borderline angelic face.

But Klaus knew that she was no angel. No this girl was surely hand carved by the devil himself, utterly sinful.

Her eyes were dark under the dimly lit club lights. Admittedly Klaus had come there hoping to find someone to satisfy his needs but he hadn’t expected to be graced with a seductresses presence.

He looked right at her, soaking up the feeling of her attention. There was something daring about her gaze as though she were taunting him, testing to see if he would come over to her. Klaus didn’t bite the bait very often, he preferred for his women to come to him however he also knew how quickly someone like her could be snatched up.

Especially when he glanced around the club and noticed the other eyes she had on her.

He wouldn’t risk the opportunity to taste a treasure like her.

However when he moved to sit beside her, she pulled herself up and walked away from him. Klaus’s eyes narrowed in both annoyance and intrigue at the challenge as he followed her.

His hands slid up her hips and abdomen as she began to move along with the crowd in the centre of the room, the dance floor. Her body moved so smoothly that he could only imagine how well she could ride a man, how good her thrusts were. As her skin began to shine with heat, he pulled her closer to his body so that her squeezable ass could grind against his hard cock through his jeans.

Her head leant backwards until the back of it rest against her shoulder and he was presented with the site of such a delicious looking neck. Her hot breath tickled his ear in a way that sent shivers along his spine and made his hips press forward again.

His lips began to latch onto her skin, sucking and nipping up her throat slowly. A little giggle vibrated through her body as she kissed his ear teasingly and pulled her neck away from his mouth. A low growl left his chest and his hands gripped her body in need and possession.

She shifted round in his hold to face him. He pulled her right up close, squishing her breasts against him and sliding his hands down to her ass.

Klaus leaned forward so his face hovered just over hers. The music made it difficult for her to hear him but she watched as his lips moved. Eventually he spoke up, “I want you” he told her firmly and she laughed.

“You and everybody else” she answered, a taunting smile on her lips as she moved backwards but he wouldn’t let her get away from him. She was far too good to lose.

Klaus rolled his eyes and tugged her back to him, “Come on sweetheart” he hissed into her ear, his hands squeezing the firm flesh of her ass before kneading it. Y/n took slight amusement in her ability to have men all over her in the matter of seconds. Especially a man like him.

Someone like Klaus would get what he wanted, Y/n wasn’t a fool to that and she saw no bother in dragging it out too long but still, it was fun to watch the desperation set in.

She could feel how hard he was, how badly his body wanted her. Naturally she rubbed herself against him, allowing him that slight satisfaction to make his grip tighten further.

Y/n let out a little moan as the pain of how aggressively he held onto her ass, the mere idea of the things this man would do to her was enough to make her want him too.

Klaus responded to her display of pleasure and smacked her ass harshly to hear her breathy moan beside his ear. He breathed in the rich scent of her blood that pumped just below her silk-like skin.

The music vibrated through both their bodies as Y/n continued to move against him and welcome his eager hands as they groped and grabbed at everything she had to offer. Klaus slid his hand up to her throat and squeezed until he heard a sound of approval making his lips pull into a cruel smirk. He knew she was going to be something special.

Y/n could feel the delightful buzz of alcohol fuel her confidence as she brought her hand to cup his cock through his trousers. She caressed him firmly, enjoying how his hips ground back against her touch and his head tilted back in pleasure. Slight amusement made her lips twitch to a smirk as she squeezed his erection.

It took every ounce of control left in Klaus not to fuck her in front of all those people. Not to push her down onto her knees and fuck that perfect face until her vocal cords stopped working.

Fortunately for him Y/n could read his thoughts very well and slid her hands back up his body. She cupped his neck in her hands and smiled at him, her red lips curling enticingly.

"I hear there's a nice hotel a few streets over" she whispered, eyes shining with desire. Klaus nodded faintly, holding onto her hips as she lead them out of the club.

The cool air soothed his boiling body for a moment and he was able to think a little clearer. He pulled her flush against him making her squeal and stop walking, placing her hand on his chest and giving him a questioning look. Klaus, however, didn't have anything to say. He just desperately wanted to see her face in the moonlight, to feel her right there and then. Her hand felt like pure sin as he leant into it. Everything about her was sinful. And he loved it.

Y/n could see everything flashing through his eyes and slowly continued to guide him towards the block of hotels. Klaus was barely aware that his feet were moving as he felt all along her curves, stroking and squeezing as much as he could. Eventually they got into the building and after almost losing it and nearly taking her against the elevator wall, they got into a room.

Klaus finally let the animal in him out to play when they got inside. Her body was handled roughly as he threw her onto the bed and pinned her down with him on top of her.

Y/n laughed softly and ran her fingers through his hair as his lips and teeth attacked her jaw and neck. She laid back willingly and pet the beast that was so desperate to ravish her.

Her feet shifted to kick her heels off before she lifted one to press against her crotch, offering something for his throbbing cock to grind against. The contrast between his roughness and her softness stirred so much within him. Klaus couldn't help but tear the dress right off her body.

Y/n rolled her eyes to herself, wondering what she'd wear when she left in the morning but pushing the thought away when his big warm hands cupped her tits. His palms rolled over her nipples, before the heat of his mouth tugged at them.

"Fuck" she whispered breathily, her hand pushing his head encouragingly. Klaus had his eyes closed so she wouldn't see the wolf behind him as his tongue flicked over the hardened bud before switching to the other. His find could only imagine how gorgeous she would look with his cum splatted all over her tits. His hands squeezed them painfully as he pulled off her nipple with a loud 'pop'.

"I want to fuck these" He murmured, a growl to his voice that send a wave of warmth between her legs. Her hand lifted his chin, nails denting his skin as she pulled him up to kiss her lips at last.

They both moaned in unison as their tongues danced and played tauntingly at the other. Her fingers worked his clothes off his body, wanting him bare for her to touch and admire.

He pulled away from their passion as her hand tugged at his cock, he hadn't known himself to get quite so hard before. To the point where it pained him, he had to restrain himself from jerking himself off right then just to soothe himself. He knew if she tried to tease him that he wouldn't be able to help but cum. She knew it too.

Her hand stroked him firmly, once, twice, three times before he came with a loud guttural moan. Her humour filled laugh made his gut twist with humiliation but he couldn't overthink it. All he could think about was her.

"I hope you have more left in you" she teased and his skin blushed red as his wolf raged under the surface. He could see that she expected him to get embarrassed and defensive so he tried especially hard not to. Instead he simply rolled his eyes and pulled her against him again. His lips moulded back against hers and his hands caressed down to her hips.

"Don't mock me yet sweetheart, you won't last much longer than I" he muttered, brushing his fingertips over the soaked lips of her pussy. Her moans were like heaven and hell twisted together and he lusted for more of them.

The pad of his thumb caressed her clit slowly to begin with, teasing and spreading her wetness before a finger sunk into her. Y/n's eyes went back into her head and her teeth bit into her lip as she rolled her hips to feet his touch. The tightness of her cunt made his cock twitch again while his fingers worked her up.

"You like this sweetheart?" He murmured as his knuckles bent inside her and he stretched her with a second finger. Y/n nodded with a moan, bucking her hips to feel the delightful friction against her clit. "Your pussy feels so soft" He mumbled, more to himself than her but she still her heard him.

A breathless laugh left her as he pumped three fingers inside her, his eyes locked onto the way her cunt wept for him and the way her clit pulses with need. His thoughts blurred together as his hand sped him, effectively fucking her until her nails clawed at the sheets as her walls spasmed around his fingers. His breathing was as heavy as hers as he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked her fresh orgasm off of his skin.

Y/n was looking up at the ceiling, panting as she calmed down only for his hot tongue to press against her cunt. She cried out in pleasure, legs spreading for him to fully indulge himself between them.

He lapped at her like a man starved, his tongue curling passionately until the familiar taste of her cum filled his mouth again.

Y/n pushed him onto his back, kissing his lips deeply and forcing a groan out of him. Her hands caressed up his body to his chest. He grunted and his back arched when she sat on his cock, her pussy swallowing it whole.

"Fuck- angel!" he moaned and Y/n let out a soft laugh as she slowly rocked her hips, getting familiar with the feel of his dick inside her.

"Don't call me that" she whispered and he grunted, bucking his hips up in time with hers so that smack of their skin could be heard.

"Why not, angel?" he muttered, a little amused until his eyes locked onto hers.

Y/n's eyes were entirely black when he looked into them, in response his went gold against his will and a choked groan left him as she bounced faster on top his cock.

"Because I'm not an angel" she told him, her voice much lower and almost smoky as her words sunk in.

Klaus had no time to react before her teeth were in his throat.

An ironic turn of events for the hybrid as the demon fed on his soul.

Klaus's mind was a haze for the following hours though he was vaguely aware of what he was doing and the pleasure she was giving him.

The feel of her wicked tongue wrapped around the head of his cock was burned into his memory. Her pussy took him time after time again until they were both trembling with overstimulation.

Eventually they both passed out.

He woke a while later, when the sun was high in the sky.

He was laid beneath the covers with Y/n tucked to his chest. Visions of her true form flashed through his head and a slight feeling of fear mixed with the prominent intrigue he felt.

His body was heavy, too heavy for him to get up and he truly had to wonder what she had done to him and what she planned to do.

When she woke, she behaved as though it were a normal one-night stand. She smirked at him as he watched her get changed from the bed. Before she left she came to his side and stroked the side of his face, her touch so hot that it sizzled his skin,

"Don't worry Niklaus, your strength will restore" she whispered and his brows pulled together when she uttered his name though his heart sped up at her following sentence; "When I feel that you're ready, I'll find you again." She warned him as she kissed his lips and left.

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petrichorium · 7 months

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you know jing yuan has been watching you since you emerged from the bathroom.

he lays in the bed, eyes blissfully closed whenever you sneak a glimpse—the covers are haphazardly tossed over his body and he gives a perfectly sound impression of himself dozing away in the dimmed light of the hotel room, but you know better.

you can feel his gaze on you every time you look away; have felt it since you’d stepped out in a bathrobe and turned your back on him to put on your clothes. you’d have thought that he’d jump at the chance to zip up the minidress you’d chosen; apparently, whatever intent he has with his faux sleep outweighs his typical enthusiasm to put his hands on your body.

(you emphasize your struggle anyway, pouting and sighing and all but audibly lamenting how oh, you wish your handsome boyfriend were awake, his hands are so much more skilled and steady, to no avail)

those eyes are still closed when you turn to make your way towards the vanity. you’d splurged on the hotel room, admittedly eager to show your lover the best your home system has to offer, though he’d probably name the bed as his favorite part.

jing yuan’s eyes had lit up when he’d first seen it—a large cupped thing like a bowl, lined with plush cushion and plenty spacious enough to comfortably fit five people. it’s built out into a bubble window on one side of the bedroom and the vanity you currently sit at is placed opposite, thus a perfect vantage point for him to observe you as you pull your stockings up your legs and then set about doing your makeup—which, as you apply a final choice of lipgloss, is now complete. with a quick glance to the clock ensuring you and he still have half an hour before you need to leave, you stand and turn to look at him.

while he relaxes his face and keeps his eyes stubbornly shut, it’s no coincidence that he turns over with your motion. it pulls the covers mostly off his body, ruffles his hair. the sigh he lets out is content, not sounding tired in the slightest. you huff a laugh.

he shifts again. the sheet falls further—almost nothing covers him now, little more than a strip of cotton across one upper thigh that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination with how wide his legs have been spread.

you approach the bed fully, padding over with stocking-covered feet on the carpeted floor until you stand right behind him. reaching out, you brush his bangs up out of his eyes and over his forehead, bending over at the same time to look over his lounging form.

“i know what you’re doing,” you say sternly, though you’re gentle as your fingertips caress him. “it won’t work.”

“won’t it?” jing yuan’s voice isn’t even laced with sleep; it’s perfectly alert, teasing, as he tilts his head back to give you more access.

you press a sticky kiss to his forehead. it leaves a shimmering mark of your lip gloss, tinted a faint pink. “you don’t have to come. you’re more than welcome to stay behind if you want.”

“we could remain here for a night in,” he counters. “this bed is… a marvel.”

his words have you giggling lightly. this time you kiss the mole just beneath his closed eye, drawing a heavy, pleased sigh from the elegant curve of his lips. your hand cradles his cheek, thumb reaching out to trace his cupid’s bow.

“tempting as that may be, we have a very limited amount of time on this trip. i’m not giving up on the only night i’ll be able to spend time with my friends like this.”

his hand, large and calloused and warm, reaches up to stop yours from pulling away. he turns into your touch, nuzzling at your palm with a petulantly grumbling noise. still, when his rough fingers move to lace with yours, you slip from his grasp and step away.

“i’m going with or without you, jing yuan,” you declare. “but if you’d like to come, you need to get ready now.”

“how very demanding. i must say, i thought i had successfully evaded orders when i took leave…” now he yawns and makes a show of stretching. you watch him shift, all lethargic grace, every motion meticulously planned—thighs tensing, stomach twitching, arms bulging. a display for you, a last-ditch effort to seduce you back into bed.

you snicker. it won’t work, but you’re hardly inclined to complain. it’s a pretty sight to see regardless; all that honed muscle working beneath porcelain skin, those scattered moles and full brush of stark white hair only emphasizing each sinewy movement. you’re drawn nearer once more, inclined to get a better look—that’s your mistake.

above all else your lover is a cunning man. it’s a miracle he put that mind to use for good, because he utilizes it for far more sinister things when it comes to you. beckoning you closer, setting up the trap, baiting it with his own body; your legs meet the edge of the bed and, though he’s still only halfway onto his stomach, a big hand darts out to catch behind your knee, so fast you don’t realize what’s happened until he’s dragging you towards him with inescapable strength.

your shin drags over the bed’s lowered entrance. the sheer speed of it all has you stumbling, only just managing to catch yourself with a hand on the raised side.

jing yuan lets out a disappointed little grunt. his touch is gentle, coaxing, as he attempts to pull your leg even closer. when that proves futile he eases himself towards you and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. tilting his head up, he fixes you with a heavy-lidded look, those striking golden eyes glinting beneath long, pretty lashes.

“are you certain i cannot convince you to stay?”

“yes,” you answer without hesitation, entirely unmoved by his responding whine. you remain stoic, too, when he drags your lower leg into the bed and begins to kiss down the side of your calf, lips searing, lingering longer and longer with each press to your stocking-covered skin. upon reaching your ankle he gives far too much attention there; free hand reaching around to grab hold of your foot and maneuver it to let him pepper nipping kisses along the top.

with your face growing hot and your leg squirming beneath his attention, you forget entirely about his other hand—until it pinches at the thin fabric behind your knee and tugs, fast and hard. the mesh rips with ease, a run tearing down the length of your calf. you yelp, attempting to pull back but stopped by the immovable grip he has on you. he sinks his teeth into the back of your ankle just enough that you’re certain it’ll leave a mark, but when he pulls away it’s obvious what his true intent was.

this time the rip is loud, fabric caught between his canines and giving way like tissue paper. you stumble back and yelp out a protest; his grip becomes solid, tugs you back to him so strongly that you lose your footing and spill into the soft drum beyond. he’s atop you instantly, caging you in with a thick arm on either side of your head.

“jing yuan!” your wail is swallowed by a kiss, but even as his tongue delves into the hot cavern of your mouth it cannot distract from the tattered remains of your stockings. you lift your knee to brace it against his chest; there’s a loud, wet sound as he finally pulls away from your mouth and buries his face into your neck.

“stay,” he groans out between each searing, open-mouthed suck at your skin. “let me hoard you, let me keep you to myself—”

“i thought that was my job?” your words catch and come out breathy as he trails lower, running a hand down the side of your body and then shamelessly shoving it up the hem of your dress—which has, admittedly, ridden up indecently high. still, you do your best to continue. “stealing you away from your responsibilities on the luofu.”

“a dual effort, then. we must be made for each other, my dear.”

his grip on your thigh is almost painful. he nuzzles at the other, reverent, eyes clouded over when they dare to flit up to meet yours. when his tongue pokes out from between plush lips, wetting them and then retreating, you realize the intent seconds before he bows his head.

you’re faster. your hand flies to his hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking back just before he manages to burrow beneath your skirt. for half a moment the pair of you remain there, frozen—his lips halfway parted, your chest heaving with pants. you blink. then you slowly ease your legs from beneath his torso.

“i told you,” you say, tightening your grip until his eyes flutter and he lets out an obscene, unabashed groan, “it won’t work. you can wait until after we come home.”

you’re precise as you peel yourself away; you keep your spare hand free to swat at any further attempts to pin you, slide your body out from beneath him until you can perch up upon the bed’s entrance and catch your breath as you stare down at him.

jing yuan props his head in his hand and returns your look. you click your tongue, but it’s impossible to fight back the affection in your tone. “scoundrel.”

his lips twitch. “so they say.”

“it’s deserved.”

“i can hardly deny it. i only wish you put up less of a fight.”

“no you don’t.”

“no,” he concedes, “i don’t.”

finally you turn and stand. the feeling of the carpet beneath your bare foot reminds you that you need to change your stockings—you frown as you glance at tattered remains of fabric on your leg.

“bastard,” you hiss out, far more venomous than the previous accusation. your suitcase lies closed upon the dresser; you approach it to dig through for your spare.

behind you, still, you hear no sound of motion. you sigh loudly, dropping the ball of socks in your hand and turning your head just barely to give jing yuan a lidded look where he’s draped himself over the side of the bed, arms crossed and biceps bulging as he watches you. never one to give up; a stubborn, bullheaded man who would chase you to the farthest reaches of the universe for a single kiss, only spurred onward by your fleeing.

perhaps you’ll throw him a bone.

“if you’re fast enough,” you begin sweetly, “i’ll let you help me into this new pair.”

he’s up instantly, darting for the bundle of clothes you’d set out for him before you’d even showered with a speed rarely seen outside of the battlefield. the offer will make you late, surely, and quite possibly cost you your second pair of stockings—you’re well aware his mind is running wild with schemes to bury his head between your thighs and glut himself on his well-earned prize in whatever fleeting time you might give him before finally shoving him away.

but what kind of leisure trip would it be if you didn’t give in to his whims?

#jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #mine.🌧#char.🌧 jing yuan #heavily selfship coded but not the elaborate lore building stuff just yet....... eventually tho. probably

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months

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if i fell through the floor i would keep falling ; suguru geto

synopsis; geto knocks at your front door one morning ten years after leaving everything he knew behind, fully expecting to be met with a middle finger or a hand to the throat. when you invite him in, instead, he can’t help but feel somewhat perplexed.

word count; 7.5k

contents; suguru geto/reader (platonic or romantic, up to u!!), gn!reader, geto-typical angst with lots of yearning, open-ended, geto’s pov, reader is a softie, mutual pining kinda, geto is terminally bitter and terminally lonely and also kind of a bitch but we love him

a/n; i’m extremely normal abt suguru geto and the debilitating loneliness he must’ve felt during the ten years after he left <33

”it’s been a while.”

the smile on his face must be sweet, he thinks, illuminated by the blurry light of the morning sun. as charming as it’s always been. coated in a thin layer of lighthearted deceit, a cruelly projected sense of normalcy.

with a hand raised up in cheerful greeting, geto gazes down at you.

— admittedly, he’s a little underwhelmed by your reaction.

astonishment or bafflement was maybe a little too much to ask for. you don’t look very surprised to see him at all; almost as if you were expecting him to show up in front of your apartment at the break of dawn.

and, really, maybe you were. after all, satoru must have told you already. why wouldn’t he let you in on their touching reunion, the promise of war that spilled so easily from his lips?

of course you would have heard of it by now.

still, geto can’t deny that it’s just a little bit disappointing. he would’ve liked to see your wide eyes, would’ve liked to hear you stammer a bit. the expression you’re currently sporting is something else entirely.

you look sad.

there’s a fondness in your eyes, though, unmistakable. a spark of it, entirely impossible to ignore, that catches him off guard. and there’s a softness in the way you raise your head to look up at him, a familiarity that flickers in the depths of your irises.

geto is just a little bit put off by it.

it looks the same as always. you look the same as always. and geto’s heart constricts, where it rests, tucked away deep within the confines of his ribcage.

a moment passes. the sun peeks out from beneath the curtain of the horizon, the violet and indigo of the morning sky melting into that familiar burst of ochre. and geto is content, to silently admire the way that you glow in its light.

he waits, patiently, for your expression to shift. to melt into one of anger, or repulsion, or any other kind of bitter hue.

it never does.

a sigh flows from your parted lips, instead. a soft little breath. in the bitter cold of a morning such as this, it turns into vapour as it drifts through the air. you blink, tiredly, eyelashes fluttering with something akin to exasperation.

”you’re a cruel guy, you know that?”

geto blinks. a fickle moment passes.

then, he smiles.

you’re admonishing him, but you’re doing so almost gently — with an easygoing kind of disapproval. as if you’re still in high school, huffing over the teasing bout of laughter he lets slip when you trip over air.

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, an action he’s grown awfully used to over the years. smiles are a form of currency, he has come to realize — smiles of deceit, of fondness, of barely contained disgust. all kinds of smiles, whether plastered on or genuine. a means to meet an end.

a single tug of his lips, encompassing an immeasurable number of unspoken words.

the smile that geto graces you with is an amused one. it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s friendly enough. ”so i’ve been told.”

for a minute, you do nothing but observe him. there’s a turmoil behind your eyes that seeps out in the way you look at him, the way you shift from foot to foot and gnaw at your bottom lip anxiously. geto doesn’t interrupt, observing you in turn. waiting for one of you to move the first piece of this little morning game of chess.

in the light, he can almost delude himself into thinking that your eyes change colour, different shades and hues dancing around your dilated pupils. as you gaze over the contours of his face, a certain kind of affection blooms within them, one that geto expected to have faded over the years.

but it’s still there. and it’s the same. a little more blurry, maybe, a little faded at the edges — more matured. but still the same, despite that.

(a memory comes to him. one of you, and him; sharing a bag of chips on the school’s rooftop when neither of you could sleep.

bathed in the light of the moon, your eyes glimmered with that very same affection, like a shooting star breaking out across the night sky.)

one long, careful, tender moment passes by.

the intense contemplation on your features is almost enough to coax a chuckle from the depths of his throat. an urge to tease you creeps up on him, slowly, but before he can open his mouth you seem to come to a kind of conclusion.

and so, you step to the side — allowing him to see inside your apartment, catch a brief glimpse of the interior. you look oddly comfortable, at peace, having made your move; the next piece is his to place.

what a surprising move, though. geto can’t help it if his eyes widen just a smidge, if he blinks in a way that could almost be interpreted as briefly confused. out of all the possible scenarios he’s played out in his mind over the years, this wasn’t the one he expected to merge with reality.

”wanna come in?” you ask, tentative. your voice is inviting. a little clumsy, although he supposes that could just be because of fatigue. it is early, after all.

geto takes a moment to think.

as far as he can tell — and he always can, in one way or another — there is no deceit hidden in your expression. no signs of bloodlust, no spark of violence, no quiet resentment bubbling beneath the surface. earnest. that’s all it is. a little awkward, but candid. pure, in a way.

you aren’t trying to trick him. you’re genuinely, seriously, honest-to-god inviting him inside your apartment.

the next move is his to make.

and geto knows exactly what he should do. he should decline, politely, excuse himself with feigned remorse and a jovial invitation to his own personal hell.

(surely, you already know. the others have almost certainly told you by now. geto just wanted to personally invite you, himself. face to face.)

right. that’s what he should do. that’s the winning move.

and yet, he finds himself moving.

lips curling up on their own, without his approval, geto moves forward. one step is all it takes for him to cross the threshold of your home; a boundary he didn’t expect you to offer up so callously, truth be told, but who is he to deny the wishes of a dear old friend?

”why, thank you,” he smiles, voice pleasant, smooth like silk.

(for just a little while, he supposes he can indulge himself in the opportunity you’ve so graciously given him. just for a bit.)

geto doesn’t bother taking off his footwear, and he knows you couldn’t care less either way. allowing him to pass you by as he waltzes into your very own space, you close the door behind him. he half-expects to hear the click of the lock, but it never comes.

a particular scent envelops him, as he stands by the coat rack, unmoving — he has no intention of taking off his robes, heavy with his carefully nurtured devotion. a symbol of his choice.

the scent is familiar, but also unlike anything he can recall within the borders of his memory; a soothing blend between fresh laundry, and sunlight, and cat fur, and something rather sweet.

there’s more to it than that, though. a certain scent geto could only ever describe as you.

(his heart aches with longing.)

as he ponders the intricacies of the fragrance, geto is acutely aware of the stare burning into his back. how careless of him, to leave it facing you, unguarded and vulnerable.

what a perfect opportunity he’s presented you with; the great curse user suguru geto, forever exiled and wanted dead, now merely a fly at the mercy of the web you’ve created. trapped in your apartment with his back turned to you, a mere lamb to the slaughter.

how easy it would be, for you to plunge a knife into his flesh. to curve your way along his spine.

you do nothing of the sort, though. and for some reason, the realization that you aren’t going to irks him, even though deep down he knew that would be the case. still, it crawls its way under his skin, along the arteries of his forearm, an itch he yearns to claw away.

how foolish. how very like you.

(what a cruel thing change can be, when no one else seems to succumb to it.)

unable to do anything but accept it, however, geto turns towards you once more. you stiffen, as if burned by his gaze, and a part of him delights in it.

”how have you been?” he asks, bright and courteous. there’s a genuinity to the question that geto can’t deny. something about this situation sends a spark of fondness running through his veins.

at the sound of his voice, your eyes soften again. it’s a subtle shift, but he doesn’t miss it. doesn’t think he ever really could, because even though the light inside your eyes makes him uncomfortable, down to the very marrow of his bones, he can do nothing but bask in it. in your attention, in that heavy gaze.

a single word could never hope to faithfully describe the emotion smouldering inside it — but if forced to, geto would humbly settle on resignation.

it’s almost as if you still haven’t fully accepted it, ten years down the line, that you’re only just beginning to. like even now, you’re convinced that it’s nothing more than one big joke; that he’s about to reveal a hidden camera, and gleefully tell you that it was all a prank to get back at satoru.

naive, naive, naive. but geto can’t deny that it tastes sweet, on his tongue — to imagine that you might still have some faith in him, after all this time.

a sigh leaves your lips. you sound a little bit exhausted. it sends a pang of ache to the very center of his heart, and a part of him yearns to soothe you. another part relishes in the pain he must have brought you over the years.

the rest of him smoothly tucks those stray thoughts away, as he brushes non-existent dust off from his robes.

then, your eyes take on a more tender hue. you ignore his question entirely, and speak in a low voice. raspy and sincere, and maybe just a tad bitter, given everything.

”those robes don’t suit you, suguru.”

— a shiver travels down his spine.

suguru.

(the way your lips form around the syllables is still so lovely.)

you’re full of surprises, as always. at least to a certain extent, he was expecting you to settle on geto, to draw a firm line in the sand between him and you. the ocean and the land, always meant to be separated by that thin line, kept apart in each other’s best interest.

but geto is beginning to accept that you’re going to do this your way — sincerely.

the statement is a veil, obscuring a million unspoken thoughts, double meanings that aren’t particularly hard to discern. a silent rejection, a quiet disapproval. there’s a grief to it that sits heavy on your tongue.

taking a moment to collect himself, geto meets your gaze, and all its weight. his lips curl up into a sad smile, a little fatigued. he wonders if you can hear it, in his voice.

(maybe it was stupid of him, to think he could keep this meeting professional.)

”… is that so?”

you continue to look at him, as if waiting for something else. but geto doesn’t give you what you want, that touch of tender honesty he’s sure you’re hoping for.

”i think they suit me just fine,” he playfully disagrees, instead, tone bordering on something childishly stubborn.

you wait just a single moment more, still clinging to that hope for something sincere, anything.

then you huff. it sounds vaguely amused.

”you look like a con artist,” you deadpan, eyes flitting down to examine the outfit again. geto would be offended by your rudeness if you didn’t also happen to be right.

”how sweet of you,” he purrs, shooting you a smug smile. the words are lighthearted, mildly teasing. “that’s exactly what i’m going for.”

you give him an unimpressed look, that he mirrors with a perfect smile — and then you give in to another amused exhale, paired with a soft shake of your head.

there it is again, geto thinks. that sense of déjà vu. it’s equal parts eerie as it is comforting.

silence lingers in the air around you, as hazy sunlight flits in through the gap between your curtains and cascades across the floorboards. until you clear your throat endearingly, and walk past him.

”well, make yourself at home,” you murmur in passing.

considering the circumstances, the words are spoken fairly naturally, and geto has to resist the urge to laugh at how ridiculous this is. inviting a wanted criminal into your home, a literal mass murderer, and treating him with the same politeness you’d show to any other guest.

what would the elders think, he wonders, if they knew? would they brand you an accomplice, question your motives? put your head on the chopping block right next to his? he wouldn’t put it past them, the pieces of shit.

but despite his amusement, geto doesn’t laugh. he only watches as you make your way to the kitchen counter, a firefly catching his eye in the summer night.

(except you aren’t a firefly, and it’s not summer. it’s winter, and you’re someone geto wishes he didn’t still care for.)

”i was thinking of making tea,” you hum, voice soft but still easy for him to discern from his spot in the living room. ”do you want some?”

geto’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile. his voice is teasing, as it flows out from his lips.

”how generous,” he chirps, still idly watching the way you move around the open space, your hair changing colour in the flickering light of the sun. ”satoru could learn a thing or two from you.”

he expects you to flinch. a suitable reaction, to how casually he brings up his reunion with his best friend, like it’s nothing. like it means nothing. like nothing’s wrong.

geto knows it’s cruel, which is exactly why he does it.

but you don’t flinch. you don’t even stiffen. and he senses no anger in your body language, in the silence that settles in the space between his words and yours. all you do is exhale sharply, a little exasperated.

”you shouldn’t be so cruel to him.” a beat. your voice sounds just a little smaller when you continue. ”he’s missed you, you know.”

the reply is nearly instantaneous, and it’s bare. honest. you sound like you’re scolding him, but it’s more protective than angry. and it’s gentle, like you’re patching him up after a mission, reprimanding him for not being more careful.

at this point, geto can tell you have no intention of playing along. how annoying. he wishes you would — that earnest sadness and regret of yours is almost unbearable, and the gentle bluntness you present him with cuts much deeper than his casual cruelty ever could.

you aren’t going to play along, aren’t going to pretend you don’t care. geto wonders why you won’t, why you’re the only one who still refuses to.

satoru certainly has no issue with it. playing along, putting up a front. attempting to treat him coldly, as an enemy. but geto knows him, knows his soul like the back of his hand, and he could tell it was trembling when their eyes met. from underneath those bandages of his, the thin layer of cowardice that shields those precious eyes from the rest of the world. from geto.

and shoko is just as unbothered as ever. always playing it cool, never caught off guard or shaken to her core. geto can’t even tell if it’s an act or not, anymore. but he knows that she was angry, when they spoke that day, ten years in the past. knows she wanted to tell him off, but chose not to.

both her and satoru are like that. always have been. closed off, accustomed to bearing an unbearable weight, resigned to the ache that it brings them. acting distant in a desperate attempt to mend it.

you, though?

you were always a little too sincere for your own good, a little too true to yourself. it must hurt you, he thinks. it must hurt you even just to look at him. yet you continue to do so, unflinchingly.

that’s simply how you are.

you’ve always enjoyed dipping your toes into the grief of it all, leaning into the pain. always the first to take that step into the abyss. content to tear yourself open for everyone to see, even if no one follows suit.

never averting your eyes. never taking the easy way out.

(unlike him.)

geto hums, smiling a little at the sickening irony of it all.

the gentle clinking of ceramic resounds throughout the kitchen, and geto’s ears perk up. his gaze follows your hands, as they move to grab two cups from the wall cabinet. floral designs, he dully notes. blue bells on one, red camellias on the other. a porcelain teapot rests on the kitchen table, but no flowers adorn it.

without your expressions to keep him entertained, geto decides to wallow in the fleeting peace and quiet. aside from your soft breathing and the occasional clinking of teacups, there are no sounds to be heard.

a moment that seems to exist outside of time and space, where time passes backwards and your shuffling in the kitchen is his only concern.

eager to satiate the mellow boredom in his chest, geto’s eyes begin to flit across the space of your apartment. greedily drinking in every detail he can see, as if he’s trying to memorize it all. maybe he is.

everything he can see is a piece of your existence, in one way or another. every inch of the apartment is littered with your fingerprints, your choices and fickle tastes.

like the rich yellow of the curtains you’ve picked out to frame the glass of the windows, bright and stark and blending smoothly in with the cream colour of the wallpaper surrounding it. or the forgotten cup on the table in front of the tv, a faded green. he vaguely remembers seeing you drink out of it back when things were still good, when you both thought of the school as your home.

a book rests on the duvet pillows of your couch, but he sees no bookmark peeking out from between the pages. geto wonders if you still dog-ear your books, and thinks to himself that a crime of that calibre would warrant your own exile if the world was only fair. alas, it isn’t. war of the foxes, he reads from the cover. ironic.

along the windowsills are potted plants, stacked up next to each other, green and flourishing despite the snowy wonderland of the outside world. their leaves differ in shape and size, some accompanied by blooming flowers. he imagines you watering them, dutifully, nurturing them with gentle hands and sleepy smiles.

there are many things to look at, more and more little fragments sprouting up the longer geto continues to do so. a knitted sweater thrown over the wooden armrest of a chair. colourful candy wrappers littering the table. an old radio tucked away in a corner of the room.

geto drinks it all in — a home you’ve painstakingly created, that you’ve allowed him into. he examines it thoroughly, the way an art dealer judges a painting on display. turning the image over inside his mind, twisting it, burning it into his retinas. soaking in every little detail he manages to find.

your home.

(it’s so like you that it hurts.)

finally, geto thinks he’s had his fill of the living room. so he ventures into the kitchen, only a couple long strides away.

the scent that greets him this time is comforting, homey. the aroma of coffee grounds, a touch of leftover curry, a strong fragrance of blooming hyacinths and dried lavender sitting contentedly by the windowsill. through the translucent glass, geto sees layers upon layers of snow on the rooftops, and the gradual rise of the glittering sun.

the quiet buzzing of the electric kettle is the only sound he hears, along with the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, as his eyes wander along the kitchen.

the shelves are stacked with a variety of different spices, and glass jars of honey and jam. along the counters rest a wide array of kitchen appliances, from blenders to rice cookers to french presses. mugs with silly designs are stuffed into an opened wall cabinet, and geto recognizes some of them, to his silent delight.

there are colourful post-it notes stuck to the fridge, messy scribbles of recipes and reminders. meetings, birthdays, grocery lists. even just little doodles, smiley faces and napping cats that make his lips quirk up. and polaroids — he tries not to let his gaze linger on the picture of satoru sleeping in the most uncomfortable, inhumane position he’s ever witnessed, nor the blurry image of shoko smoking by a balcony railing, sleeves cuffed and expression forlorn. he can’t imagine either of them noticed you snapping the photos.

(no polaroids of him. of course not. why would there be?)

geto tries not to look over at the fridge again, examining the floor and furniture instead. over in the corner stands a bowl of cat food, seemingly untouched. the kitchen table is covered with a checkered cloth, kept down by a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

your kitchen is fairly small, but it’s cozy. rays of fresh sunlight envelop it in a giddy, ruminating glow. like something out of a dream.

when geto enters the space, your eyes flit over to him briefly, and he shoots you a friendly smile. your eyes do that thing, again, where they crumble a little at the corners and get a tad softer. like you’re looking at an old friend.

(he supposes you are.)

you clear your throat before speaking, as he takes in all the sights.

”what kind of tea do you want? i’ve got, uh…”

with gentle movements, you open a wall cabinet, eyes swiftly scanning over the different labels of the many boxes, jars and sachets of tea inside. dutifully, you list off the ones you can see.

”earl grey, chamomile… oolong, rooibos…” you continue, seemingly never running out of options, fingers tapping at the handle. ”ah, this one’s kinda weird. it’s supposed to be, like, cherry flavoured? don’t ask, satoru picked it out — but it tastes more like laundry detergent.”

a pause.

”it’s pretty good, though.”

geto can’t help it. the comment coaxes a chuckle from out his chest, and he’s surprised at how genuine it sounds when it spills from his lips.

you seem to notice it, too, seeing as you perk up where you stand by the counter. out of the corner of his eye, geto thinks he almost catches the fleeting glimmer of a tiny smile on your lips.

and for a moment, everything feels familiar. eerie and comforting, in equal measure. a sense of nostalgia drifts throughout the kitchen, mingling with the scent of tea leaves and sunshine and freshly baked cookies.

this is the opportunity you’ve given him — a slice of normalcy. as close to normalcy as one can come to in a situation such as this. a soft bout of laughter, shared between estranged childhood friends, one of which is a mass murderer. it’s really not normal at all.

normalcy is no more than a fever dream. that much has always been the case, but —

there’s a comfort in it, in this. the familiarity of it all. the way you settle into old roles, share knowing looks and cycle through old memories he knows you’re both haunted by.

it’s soothing.

he’s changed, and you’ve changed, but there’s still a sense of belonging between the two of you. in this moment, this sole flicker of nostalgia. in this kitchen.

and for a moment, geto almost forgets why he’s there. almost forgets the unforgettable, the inevitability of a choice he made long ago. it stings, and he wonders how you can bear it; this thin line between longing and awareness.

”so? what’ll it be?”

your voice rings out across the open space, face angled towards the table to meet his stare.

geto hums, absentmindedly, and takes a step closer.

the narrow distance between you two lies heavy, as he shuffles up right next to you, haphazardly sweeping his eyes over the wide assortment in front of him. he can almost, almost hear your breath hitch when the fabric of his clothing grazes your shoulder.

he wonders if the tea is just an excuse, to be able to come so close. to bask in your warmth.

you don’t move away.

”oolong,” he firmly decides. he doesn’t really need to think about it.

then he swiftly turns on his heel, and takes a seat by the kitchen table. confident and graceful — as if this isn’t your kitchen, but his. unconcerned over table manners, his elbows resting on the wooden board, as his jaw meets the heel of his palm. he bites into one of the chocolate chip cookies, the sweetness crumbling on his tongue.

this time, you finally do stiffen — though geto doesn’t see it. he does, however, feel your lingering stare, and when he tilts his head in your direction he catches a glint of sorrow passing through the depths of your irises.

geto blinks. he tilts his head questioningly, a cue for you to follow.

and finally, finally, you stammer. barely, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of your voice.

”ah — sorry,” you mumble, gaze falling down to the floorboards. you seem almost flustered. ”it’s just…”

there’s something raw in your voice, something that wavers.

”back then, you’d always choose earl grey.”

a long moment of silence passes.

there are a million unspoken words in that sentence, geto knows. words you’ll never say, words you’ve always yearned to say. though he has no intention of digging them out.

the sentiment is more than enough.

a bitter taste settles on his tongue, but he smiles, careful to keep his voice light.

”well,” he hums. ”some things change, i suppose.”

to that, you huff out a breath of amusement, turning around to face the counter once more. but not before eyeing his robes again, expression rich with humour.

”yeah,” you hum, lighthearted. something close to a chuckle. ”i suppose they do.”

geto grins softly, in tandem, from his spot by the table. like you’re still teenagers, sharing a look over an inside joke no one else is privy to.

after that, he simply watches you work, chewing at the treat while he waits for the tea to be done. the light of the electric kettle flickers off, and your hands curl around the handle, bringing it to rest next to the teapot on the tablecloth. he watches, expression mildly bored, as you grab the ceramic cups and the silken sachet bag of dried tea leaves.

a strong scent of oolong tea wafts through the air, when you flick your fingers to pour some of the leaves into the teapot. there’s a certain elegance in the way you pour the boiling water, slowly, in a smooth circular pattern. geto follows the movement, the rise and fall of the leaves as water fills the strainer.

you’re unhurried, methodical. there is care in the motion of your hands, the intense gaze you bear as you perform it. every slight twitch of your knuckles, the soft exhale you emit when the teapot has been filled.

geto can do nothing but watch, in silent admiration.

you put the porcelain lid back on, blocking the steam rising up in a flurry of warmth. while the tea simmers, soaking up the flavour of the leaves, you busy yourself with readying two teaspoons.

”how do you take it, these days?” you ask him, as you languidly pour hot tea into the cups. ”any sweetener? milk?”

”one cube of sugar. no milk.”

at that, your eyes flit up, recognition blooming in them as you hear the familiar sentence. but geto keeps his gaze glued to the hyacinths on the windowsill, never meeting yours.

truthfully, he says it mostly to appease you. he figures he can give you this one thing, at least — this one hope that maybe everything hasn’t changed, after all. that he hasn’t changed, in his entirety, that there’s still some remnant left of who he used to be. even if all that’s left of him is just one single cube of sugar.

it’s kind of funny. but geto doesn’t laugh.

you place a cup in front of him. the one adorned by red camellias. geto racks his brain, flitting through past conversations with florists and paragraphs memorized from non-fiction books on botany. what was it, again?

eternal love. long-lasting devotion.

the petals and the calyx of a camellia always fall together.

geto bites back a laugh. some part of him wonders if you’re making fun of him, if this is how you’re planning to release your pent-up anger — in such a petty, roundabout manner. but deep down he knows it was no more than an absentminded choice, on your part.

(you always hurt him most when it’s not your intention to do so.)

as you take a seat on the opposite side of the table, he gingerly touches the rim of the cup. soft steam rises from the liquid, its colour marigold-esque, and geto breathes it in deeply before bringing the ceramic to his lips.

you watch, in anticipation. intensely enough that he can feel it even when his eyes flutter shut, your gaze prickling his skin as he sips from the cup.

the warmth of the tea is comforting, a distinctly floral taste spreading along his tongue. there’s a slight nuttiness to the taste, a rich sweetness. as it runs down his throat, geto hears himself hum softly. a satisfied smile slips into the curve of his lips. inside the depths of his chest, a light nostalgia swirls, pleasant and tingly.

he remembers moonlit nights, whispered secrets you could only ever tell each other, the glimmer of aluminium and rush of caffeine as you gulped down the too-sweet coffee that the vending machines had to offer.

he remembers sunny mornings, muffled laughter shared in the solitude of the kitchen, basking in the floral scent of chamomile and lavender and everything in between as the world woke up around you.

with a clink, geto sets his cup down on the table, pinkie raised lightly. smile a tad bittersweet.

”this is good tea.”

a moment passes. you break out into a genuine smile, nearly beaming, delighted by his approval.

”isn’t it?” you chirp, fingers curling around your own cup, the little painted flowers adorning it. blue bells. geto recalls that old wives’ tale — how wearing a wreath of blue bells compels one to tell the truth. ”nanami got this one for me, actually.”

he smiles, perking up ever so slightly. a little more animated. ”oh?” he takes another sip. ”he always was a snob, wasn’t he.”

that makes your own smile grow, lips twitching upwards, and an amused exhale flows from your lips. a gentle breath. you always were very fond of your grumpy underclassman. ”yeah.”

there’s something familiar about this, geto can’t help but think. eerily so. an acute sense of déjà vu, the same one that’s been plaguing him all morning.

the way you’re treating him isn’t how one would treat an enemy, nor a stranger — it’s how one would treat an old friend. that, and nothing more.

(geto wishes he could say it didn’t soothe his heart so terribly.)

he allows himself to sink deeper into the rotten sweetness of it all. indulges in this one fleeting moment, before everything crashes and burns.

the world outside your kitchen is a cold one, he knows, blanketed by snow and frost that has yet to be stained red. the pure white is a warning, not a consolation — a reminder that there are still things to be lost.

the world of curses is an empty promise, the promise of suffering being rewarded. the idea that the sun will melt the frost around your legs if you wade through enough snow.

(but geto knows better.)

outside your kitchen, only one path exists for him. it isn’t a kind one, nor is it particularly comforting. but, unlike those empty promises, that path has a truth to it. an end point, that isn’t just wait and see what happens, maybe the sun will rise if you’re lucky.

he isn’t a fool. the world is as cruel as it is beautiful, which is a false simile because cruelty is only ever beautiful when you aren’t a part of it. another one of those empty promises. geto has no idea how they kept him going for so long.

but here, in this moment — the world feels rather kind. kind in the sense of being just enough, the kind of brief solace that used to give him enough hope to get through the day.

for now, this aching gap of yet-to-be-ruined is enough. it’s all that he cares about, all that exists.

— but all good things must eventually come to an end.

geto knows it better than anyone, so he isn’t particularly surprised when he looks up to see your face set into hard lines.

you meet his eyes with a certain flickering determination, a conviction — and geto knows you’re about to cross the comfortable line he was hoping you could both maintain for just a little longer.

”suguru.”

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. a smile is enough. so his lips curl up, silently.

”can i ask you something?”

every move geto makes is calculated, a performance, as your words sink into his subconscious. dragging the silence out, as if trying to waltz around the inevitable end of this sickeningly sweet game of morning chess.

the slow circling of his spoon, creating a vortex for the oolong tea to follow, as it catches the light falling from the window. the way he leans back, to make himself comfortable, letting his jaw rest on the heel of his palm as he dissects your expression from across the table.

there is something almost taunting in his eyes.

but he smiles. courteous, bright. ”go ahead.”

for just a second, he sees you falter. just a smidge, but the way your nails dig into the skin of your palm is telling, just like the way your eyes choose to linger on the tablecloth a second longer than they need to.

then you meet his eyes once more, and begin to speak. geto hangs on to your words, as if they even matter.

”i’m not expecting you to be honest with me,” you state, bluntly. he’s glad to know you’re on the same page for once. ”but i’d appreciate it if you could. just this one time. i won’t ask for anything else.”

another long and tactful sip of his tea. he wasn’t lying, before — it really is very nice. the flavour is strong and thick on his tongue, sweet and bitter all in one. expensive. the pads of his fingers tap along the ceramic of his cup, right over the red flowers that seem to taunt him so.

here it comes. your lips part, but no sound comes out, and geto knows you’re thinking of how best to phrase your inquiry. it doesn’t take you long to decide, a firmness blossoming in the scope of your iris. a sense of finality.

”are you happy?”

despite everything, his breath hitches in his throat. the movement of his fingers halts.

your question comes out clear, candid, sincere. the look in your eyes makes him feel a little like he’s being devoured. vaguely aware of how his smile wavers, for just a split second, geto can only hope you don’t notice it — but he doubts you do, because you only continue to speak, unperturbed.

”i’m sure you’ve changed a lot, these past ten years. and i’m sure you’ve had more than enough time to convince yourself that you’re happy, even if you aren’t.” you bite your lip. ”i should’ve asked you this a long time ago. but now — i’m asking.”

geto’s eyes never leave your face.

”are you happy? are you genuinely satisfied with your life? are you happy with your choice?”

there’s something desperate in your eyes, now. something geto can’t look away from, despite himself. all he can do is touch the ceramic beneath his fingers, hot enough to burn, and listen to you speak.

”if… if you are, then —”

you take a deep breath, a sharp inhale that geto would mimic if he wasn’t dead set on maintaining his composure.

”— then i won’t get in the way. i’ll let you live your life the way you want to. just as long as that’s true.”

geto looks at you, smile nowhere to be seen. time itself seems to halt, in the space of your kitchen. the current center of the world.

he doesn’t dare to even breathe.

”… but,” your voice trembles. you stare intently at your own cup, surely beginning to grow lukewarm at this point. what a waste of good tea. ”if you aren’t happy, then —”

a pause. no one says a thing.

”then what?” geto spits. his voice comes out sounding just a tad sharp, cold like the frost outside your apartment. more so than he meant it to.

your pupils waver, before you lift your head to look at him. the resolution in your eyes makes his breath hitch. an unflinching kindness, one he can’t remember you ever not having.

”— then i’ll do whatever it takes to change that. no matter what.” a beat. “even if it makes you hate me.”

such immense honesty.

geto wonders why he came here, in the first place.

to declare war. was that his genuine desire, though? or was it just another excuse?

with satoru, he can pretend. with shoko, he can pretend. with himself, he can certainly pretend.

but with you?

his fingers leave the ceramic, eyes burning with a decision mirroring yours.

geto’s burned many bridges, in his life. but this particular bridge is one he’ll miss. the cinders that follow won’t keep him warm, that much he knows.

but in the face of such honesty — such genuine kindness — he couldn’t bear not to give you a serious answer.

(it’s the least he could do for you.)

”i am.”

a moment passes. the center of the world shifts.

”i’m happy with my choice.”

it was the only one worth making.

as they fall from his lips, the words taste heavy, absolute. in the light of a morning still yet to be broken by the passage of time, your eyes shift. for a moment geto wonders if you’ll close them. if you’ll give yourself that one relief.

you don’t.

instead, you bite your lip, eyes stubbornly never leaving his own. now you look a little angry, a little frustrated. he’s glad to see that flicker of fury directed at him, at last.

”but are you happy?” you persist, frustrated in a way that buzzes with kindness and concern. a way that makes him feel rather lost.

geto hears himself speak before he has a chance to think about his answer. the voice that comes out of his throat sounds oddly soft.

”that doesn’t matter.”

”it should.”

your reply is equally instantaneous. and geto feels a tremor run through his heart.

”are you happy, suguru?” you try again, pleading. that hope of yours is back, the hope that he’ll be honest just this once. sincere, even just for a syllable or two.

the clock on the wall ticks, hands moving methodically and cruelly, second by second. another moment of time burned to cinders. geto knows what must be done.

this mindless self-indulgence was nice, for a while. but geto has more bridges to burn. more wars to brew.

one final touch. that’s what he’ll give you, in return for your generosity. one final touch of tender honesty, even if it burns his tongue.

”i will be,” he exhales, breathless. ”once all this is over.”

then he gets up from his chair, the squeaking of wood against the floorboards signaling a parting. your eyes never leave his face, as he dusts off his robes absentmindedly, glancing at the half-finished cup on the table.

then geto smiles at you. there’s a fondness to it, one he’d only ever show you. his eyes crinkle, just barely, and the dark brown of his iris shifts into a mellow amber as sunlight cascades down the contours of his face. a genuine smile.

”thank you for the tea.”

there it is. your eyes soften, again, helplessly.

you aren’t satisfied. geto doubts you ever will be.

but you’ve always been the only one to tear yourself open, the only one to step into the abyss. geto has always admired it, just as much as he’s always found it foolish. not once has he ever followed suit.

things like honesty and tenderness don’t suit him. he doesn’t think they suit any sorcerer, except maybe for you.

at last, that grieving resignation finds its way to your eyes again. it doesn’t hurt him as much this time, perhaps because he was waiting for it.

”… you’re welcome,” you breathe. a sad little breath.

geto allows himself to look at you for just a moment more.

then he turns on his heel.

”well, this was nice,” he hums. ”but i really must be going now.”

pleasant and jovial. a voice unsuited for a situation like this. geto wonders if it hurts you as much as it hurts him.

rubbing salt into wounds is all he seems to do these days, anyhow. so he smiles. ”i’ll see you on the battlefield, i hope —”

”suguru.”

…

deep down, geto knows that there’s no going back from this. that the moment he moves his feet, the moment he leaves your apartment — the moment he steps over the threshold in front of him — he can never return.

your kitchen was never his to walk into, in the first place. he was never meant to set foot into your home. that was your choice. geto can’t help but think that it’s every bit as cruel as the one he made ten years ago.

your voice is the same as always. sad and fond. familiar, in how it twists and tugs at his heart in a way nothing else can anymore.

geto waits. he’ll let you have the final word. the final piece moved into place. checkmate.

he’ll let you be the one to devour that aching gap.

curse me, he whispers to the confines of his mind. resent me. i’ve caused you so much pain.

curse me yourself, so i can hate you properly.

”if you ever want another cup, i’ll be here.”

silence falls upon the kitchen.

geto stands still, feet rooted in the spot by the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room. the ticking of the clock is the only sound he hears.

there isn’t a trace of resentment in your voice.

(he wishes you would play along, even just once.)

a low hum buzzes in his throat. the seconds stretch on; more hands moved, more time burned into nothing. the silence is deafening, thick and heavy. an intense moment of contemplation, as geto tries not to shiver under the warmth of your constant gaze, burning into his back.

the center of the world shifts, once more. the gaze of fate falls upon the two of you, bathed in the rays of the rising sun, in a kitchen where normalcy is a little more than just a fever dream.

it doesn’t mean anything, anything at all.

geto knows it. he knows it better than anyone. but maybe he can allow this mindless self-indulgence to carry on, for just a little longer. if only to give him the excuse he needs to see you again, to stand in your kitchen like this, like the view of the rising sun is something he’s allowed to behold.

how greedy. how callous. hasn’t he always been, though?

just for a little bit longer.

”… you know,”

geto takes a step forward, robes fluttering with the movement, heavy and pious. he crosses the threshold, words just above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear.

(in the space between the words, laced together with the silence, lies the ghost of a smile.)

”it’s been a while since i had earl grey.”

#something something geto being represented by a setting sun vs reader being represented by a rising sun…. u get the vibes.#this was supposed to be completely angsty but i got attached to the final line LOL. so now its just a tiiiiny bit hopeful #i mean hes still probably dying lets be honest but theres some room for interpretation if ur delulu like me #tbh the idea of geto continuing his genocidal agenda while casually having tea parties w/ reader on sundays is just.. INSANELY funny to me #every girlboss needs her selfcare day <3 #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto angst #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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raspberriesoda · 2 months

Text

fall from grace » ljn

genre | angel!jeno x human!reader; fluff, slight angst at the very end

word count | 2.3k

summary | your guardian angel has always blurred the line he’s never supposed to cross, and one night he unintentionally takes that leap into territory he’s not meant to be in

a.n | this will most likely have a part two! (pt2 will be much more angsty, and possibly smutty i haven’t decided yet) also if you see something extremely similar to this on ao3 no you don’t (i wrote this as a nomin fic a few years ago and posted it there but dreamscape angel propaganda made me want to revamp it and post it again)

he hadn’t expected to end up here. or, at least that’s what he tried to convince himself. he really wasn’t supposed to be here. none of this was ever supposed to happen.

but, how could he not fall in love with you?

the way that you snort when you laugh a little too hard at something you know isn’t really that funny. the pout that cutely displays on your lips when you give something your full focus. the little noises you make in your sleep when you’re dreaming. the way that you almost always trip on the crack in the sidewalk right outside your apartment building, despite living there long enough to be mindful of it.

jeno thinks about it more and more day by day; not that he even pays mind to the passage of time anymore. there was no way out, he was doomed from the start.

but, instead of the lighthearted feeling that would normally come hand in hand with love, jeno feels a weight. in any other circumstance he’d likely be considered a stalker by the way he knows every little thing about you, but that’s his obligation. jeno’s sole task is to watch over you, to keep you safe, to make you his number one priority above all else.

you aren’t supposed to know. you’re supposed to be blissfully unaware of jeno’s existence and his presence in your life, as well as any others like him.

and jeno was never supposed to fall in love.

lately- and he couldn’t tell if it was on purpose- jeno had become admittedly sloppy with keeping a safe enough space between you and him. he knows it’s no excuse, and he knows the consequences of the risk he’s taking, but the pull is just too strong. his one responsibility is to protect you, but what was the point of that if he couldn’t make you comfortable and happy? if he couldn’t love you in the way only he knows you deserve to be? he’s just fulfilling his duties, right?

how unfair, he thinks. how unfair it is that he’s forced to be so close to you, yet just far enough away that you’ll never even know.

jeno stands on your balcony, three floors up, three hours past midnight.

there’s only a wall separating you from him, and though there is the perk that you can't exactly feel his presence like you might with another human, there stands the possibility of you finding him all the same. he’s more than aware of how dangerous this is for him, to have this little of a distance between you; a relationship between a human and their guardian is never allowed to be physical or emotional in any way. he asks himself how far he is from crossing that line, how close he is from falling off of that tight rope. realistically he already has, but he finds it difficult to care.

ironically, jeno wonders if he’s been cursed or blessed. maybe both, he thinks- blessed with the fact he’s always with the human he loves oh so deeply; cursed with the fact that though he knows just how to make you smile, that smile will never really be for him.

he’s willing, though- more than willing to take that chance, despite the better part of himself advising against it (or that had been the better part of him, long long ago). if he just gets to see your surprised, sleepy little smile early the next morning when you step out to check on your favorite flowers and notice they’ve bloomed way ahead of schedule, then to jeno, its worth it.

as jeno tends to the soft peach colored petals, you sit inside, your legs tucked under you on the kitchen counter, sipping peach flavored tea and watching old cartoons on your computer. you couldn’t sleep, and tossing and turning in bed was finally out of the question after a few too many hours of dreamless silence.

your bare feet make a soft thud on the kitchen tiles when you uncross your legs and leap from the counter, making your way to grab more honey for your tea. the sound makes jeno glance up from the petals sitting between his fingers. this signals to him that you’re now on the move and that he should go, but again, the voice in his head is muted when it comes to you.

jeno takes another bud in his hands and watches as it spreads open right before his eyes at his touch. he rearranges the flowers and stems and pats down the soil as if to make it look a bit more lively, and with this, he decides he should depart before you have the chance to notice he’s here. he turns, preparing to hop the banister, but he bumps the patio table, sending an unused pot of dry dirt falling to the ground. it shatters into large shards of clay that scatter across the wood, and jeno stills.

you almost drop the glass jar at the unexpected calamity, adrenaline shooting through your body like a shockwave. a heavy spoonful of honey is frozen in the air as you hold it above your mug; it drizzles down the side of the ceramic and makes a sticky puddle on your counter. a few moments of painfully eerie silence pass and you try your best to catch your breath.

jeno stoops down to clean the mess he’s made, making certain to be as silent and quick as possible before you arrive to investigate. after your mind has time to form a theory that doesn’t involve something you’d seen in a horror film, you come to the hopeful conclusion that it must have been the wind knocking around your gardening supplies. for your peace of mind, you round the counter to pull open the curtain draped glass doors.

what you see makes you think that maybe you had fallen asleep earlier after all.

jeno looks up, stunned, frigid, crouched down with his hands full of rocks and clay and dirt. he can only imagine how he appears to you in this moment; he must look like he’s just been caught committing a crime- and it likely would be in any other set of means.

millions of worries should be swarming his head, but the only thing on his mind right now is you. your tangled hair, your fluffy pajama pants, your eyes twinkling in the moonlight and looking at him with wonder- not toward him or past him, but directly at him. it was something he’d never had the pleasure of witnessing.

your urge to cry out is suppressed by the peculiar calm feeling that settles over you the moment your eyes lock with jeno’s. even in the shadows the strange boy’s eyes seem to shine, and any thought of ill intent is sent away as quickly as it came. your brain has no time to question the unusual level headedness you feel before you start to connect the dots.

weirdly, you recognize him, but your mind blanks when you try recalling from where. though, you really figured that you’d remember something like this if you’d seen it before. it takes jeno standing, letting the soft starlight paint his nervous face and his shimmering wings for you to be able to connect him to any sort of a tangible memory.

you’d never actually known his name, or from where he came, but you did know of him.

the boy you’d spotted leaving the cafe after the barista had told you that your coffee was already paid for on the morning you were running late for your psychology lecture. the boy you’d seen scanning shelves in the campus library when you saw your favorite novel sat next to your course work upon returning from the counter to ask if they had it in yet. the boy you’d seen walking down the pavement when you’d whipped your tipsy head around after being yanked back by your hoodie just before you stepped into the street, a blaring car horn and a rush of wind whisking your hair up as all you could do was stare at his figure as he strolled away from you.

other instances that you’d had no concrete explanations for began to surface in your mind the longer you studied him. the closed window and extra blanket the night you’d accidentally fallen asleep before a severe thunderstorm. the carton of fresh milk in your fridge you could’ve sworn you’d forgotten to pick up from the market. your favorite white sweater miraculously being completely unharmed after a pink sock snuck its way into the wash.

you knew all of these occurrences and the same boy being present could be purely coincidental, but something about that was just too hard to believe. you always meant to approach him when you saw him in your day to day life, but the courage to make the move and close the distance between you never arose.

‘what an angel,’ you’d always said to yourself when you’d see him. you never would’ve guessed you were right.

when jeno finally snaps out of his trance, remembering the predicament he’s gotten himself into, he turns to really leave before he lands himself in any more trouble. he spreads his huge white wings, the ones that had always been hidden when you were near, and flaps them once to lift himself into the air. a gust of chilled wind flutters your pajamas and pulls the breath from your lungs as you gawk at him.

you try to speak, to tell him not to go, but your voice won’t come out. before jeno can get too far, and before you can think of something less hazardous, you run forward and hoist yourself up on the railing to grab jeno’s ankle in an attempt to stop him from fleeing. at that same moment jeno flaps his wings again, not thinking that the sudden weight on his leg could be you, and as a result you’re pulled from the rail and out into the open, three stories above solid ground.

a strangled yelp jumps from your throat as you dangle in peril. jeno’s head snaps down, and his eyes widen as they meet your figure, clinging to him and flailing wildly. your grip rapidly begins to slip from jeno’s body. your mind races around the realization that this could very well be the end; in an instant you feel the cold night wind rushing up around you, whisking your hair towards the sky, blurring the buildings and skyline together and your breath is caught in your lungs as all you can do is fall.

just as soon as it happened, you collapse into jeno’s open arms with an ‘oomph’ when he catches you before you can meet any harm. you immediately wrap your entire body around him and squeeze your eyes shut, letting out a trembling and fearful cry into his neck. hot tears threaten to spill down your cheeks and the height makes you lightheaded. you’re shivering as jeno lifts you both up to the balcony once again.

it’s bittersweet for jeno to see you this close. you’re so stunningly beautiful, more so than jeno could have ever imagined. your eyes finally open to meet jeno’s when you feel yourself safely sitting on your balcony, curled up under jeno’s kneeling figure. they glisten with tears and your soft face appears to glow in the moonlight. jeno’s heart grows wings of its own to soar through his chest; he may be the angel, but you are angelic.

a very nervous laugh bubbles out of you, your face blooming with a deep red at the sudden realization of your very close proximity to one another, and the embarrassment of the stunt you’d just pulled. one of your arms still drapes around the back of jeno’s neck, the other hand pressed to his chest, revealing jeno’s rapid heartbeat that matches that of yours. jeno’s arms are still wrapped around your waist. he never wants to let go.

“i-mh,” you stutter a bit, and gulp. “i’m sorry,” a sheepish smile pulls at your lips. your voice is much breathier than you’d wanted it to come out.

jeno’s features are sharp, but his expression is soft. tufts of his silvery white hair flit around in the crisp breeze and he looks at you, admires you, his gentle eyes flickering across your face like he’s committing you to memory. his fingers comb gingerly through your windswept hair, pushing it away from your flushed neck and tucking it behind your ear.

his eyes suddenly shift down when your hand meets his jaw, the tips of your fingers ghosting over his cheek. his skin tingles under your timid touch.

you’ve never seen anything like him.

“you’re.. so pretty.”

“thank you,” jeno breathes out through a dazed smile. as you relax a bit, jeno feels your fingers brush delicately against the indents you had made on his shoulders; your grip is softer now, but no less fervent.

“i’m jeno,” he tells you. your eyes meet his again. his heart skips a beat when you cup his face fully, your thumb smoothing over the expanse of his cheek; its warm under your touch.

“thank you, jeno.”

a short beat of time passes, and in a sudden surge of bravery, you lean forward to connect your lips in a kiss. jeno’s heart stops then, his feathers standing and his eyes wide, utterly overwhelmed with the cordial feeling of the one he loves so suddenly embracing him.

jeno decides to throw all caution to the wind. he wastes no time in sliding his hands up your neck to cradle both sides of your jaw, turning his head to let the kiss deepen. his eyes flutter closed and his wings relax, and the sigh he lets out sends hot air onto the peaks of your blushing face, making you melt into his hold. you can’t tell if the warmth that spreads through your body as your lips move in perfect sync is from jeno’s celestial form, but you’ve never felt such a rush from just a single kiss.

but it’s not otherworldly, because jeno feels it, too.

all of a sudden jeno feels the crushing sense of his time running short. he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss; you chase his lips as he leans back.

“i’m sorry, i’m not supposed to be here.”

your fingers grip his shoulders again. a wave of sadness crashes over him when he sees the somber look in your eyes.

“don’t go,” you whimper. jeno’s heart throbs. he would consider it a moment of weakness, only that's all he ever felt when it came to you. he kisses you once more, quick this time, and he feels himself ready to break.

“i’ll come back. i promise.”

with that, he’s gone.

you didn’t end up sleeping that night.

the tea in the mug that hangs loosely in your grip has gone cold by now. you sit in the same spot on your balcony, staring longingly up at the star speckled night sky.

#lee jeno #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno angst #lee jeno drabble #lee jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno drabble #jeno x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream drabble #nct dream x reader #judah.doc

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waiting-for-a-sunny-day · 6 months

Text

1. “You think you’re the only one who can find a date?” Geto paused his inspection of himself to meet Gojo's gaze in the mirror. “Ah, no, sorry. You don't go on dates. You have to know the other person's name for it to count as a date.”

Behind the near black of his sunglasses, Gojo’s eyes widened with exaggerated offense.

“You can’t slut shame anymore, Suguru. It’s 2010,” Gojo teased, as he flopped back on Geto’s bed.

“I’m not slut shaming you. I’m saying you’re not in a position to act like me going on a first date is a scandal."

Gojo tipped his head backwards and leveled Geto with an over-dramatic eye roll.

He does that to make people notice how pretty his eyes are.

“It’s not a scandal. It’s…”

Whatever Gojo thought it was was a mystery, because he was uncharacteristically lost for words.

Despite what Gojo might accuse him of, Geto was not a sex negative person or a prude.

He was just madly in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate, and every time Satoru stumbled home with his clothes rumpled and his hair fingered through, Geto felt like burning Tokyo to the ground.

It was all the unhinged, unrealistic pining that led Geto to make this plan in the first place.

The Plan: Geto was going to get over his straight, no-strings-sex-only, relationship-phobic best friend.

Step One of The Plan: Find literally anyone else in the entire world that he could think about kissing without wanting to die.

- - - - Read more cut - - - -

A month earlier, he’d gone so far as to get a guy’s phone number. He’d popped into a café after a particularly foul curse he’d absorbed – hoping to wash the taste out of his mouth with tea and a pastry – and the barista had such a stark white shock of messy hair that Geto had done a doubletake to make sure Gojo wasn’t fucking around in a coffee shop on some bizarre mission objective.

The barista had been, admittedly, extremely attractive. His hair was bleached, but it suited him, and he had pleasing, well-proportioned features. Working on pure adrenaline and determination, Geto had asked him for his number. The guy had turned beet red but managed to stutter out his info to Geto.

Almost as soon as Geto left the café, though, the little nits and snags started to pop up in his mind.

Obviously, the eyes were all wrong. The shyness wasn’t right. The smile. His voice. He wasn’t tall enough, and his hands didn’t have that same graceful strength.

It was a laundry list of how fake-Satoru was emphatically not Satoru.

Geto wasn’t even all the way down the block before he deleted the barista’s info from his phone.

Now Geto was on attempt number two: a first date with a man who in absolutely no way resembled Satoru Gojo.

His non-Gojo-ness was exactly what prompted Geto to ask the man at the train station for his number. Shota was short, burly, square-faced, and serious. Geto had only clocked the man’s interest by the overly long looks he’d shot him.

At least I'm good at reading people…

“Hey, you should bring her back here,” Gojo said – pulling Geto’s attention back to the present. “We can watch that new horror movie. Human Earthworm.”

…unlike my oblivious best friend.

“Are you seriously asking to be the third wheel on my date?”

Gojo’s face was upside down - his head practically hanging off the end of Geto’s bed. The odd angle must have been what made Gojo’s smile look off.

“You worried she’ll be more interested in your hot roommate?”

Geto shot him an unamused look.

“I don’t know why anyone agrees to sleep with you,” Geto lied. “Your head’s so big, it seems like a crush risk.”

“They can tell I’m killer in bed,” Gojo smirked. “The risk is worth the reward.”

Geto turned away and pulled at the shirt he was wearing. He didn’t totally love it, but he also didn’t care as much as he should about impressing Shota.

It wasn’t as if Geto was about to fall in love with this train station stranger, but if he at least went through the motions, maybe his brain would get with the program and start considering non-Satoru people as potential romantic interests.

“But, seriously, Suguru,” Gojo said as he folded his hands under his head – making the hem of his shirt ride up. “What’s up with this date? I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”

Geto’s eyes drew immediately to the sliver of skin above the waistband of Gojo’s slim-fit black joggers.

The peek of skin couldn’t have been more than an inch wide, but Geto could see twin ridges of definition. The visual set Geto’s mind racing, thinking about the rest of Gojo’s skin.

Damn him for having a nice body.

“I’m trying to make myself get into it,” Geto said, wholly distracted by seeing Gojo’s abs and trying to not let his body get worked up, as if he were still a horny highschooler.

“Ohhh,” Gojo replied, his tone brightening. “I get it.”

Geto’s stomach flopped over as Satoru sprang up.

Did I just out myself?

“What do you get?”

“Nothing,” Geto said with a toothy grin that implied otherwise. “But - just so you know - I like you the way you are, Suguru.”

The idiot part of Geto’s heart – i.e., the whole of it – thumped hopefully.

“If you don’t want to date anyone, don’t date anyone,” Gojo added, cheerily. “I won’t let anyone talk shit about my best friend. I mean, who cares if you’re a virgin?”

Geto’s idiot heart plopped down into his stomach.

Gojo thought he was a crotchety prude who’d rather spend his whole life celibate than have any fun, and he still definitely had Geto squarely in the friend zone.

Obviously you’re in the friendzone, you idiot. He’s straight.

(Complete fic on AO3)

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tobyislame · 8 months

Note

Hi this is awkward s/o person again, you have fueled my toby brain and I'd like to make another request (if you're willing)

What would he be like with his s/o on Halloween? Does he dress up with them, get candy, or maybe stay home and watch scary movies with them? And very important question...if he dresses up, who would he dress up as?

toby rogers x reader: HALLOWEEN EDITION!!!!

welcome back friend!!! i will always be willing i love your requests!! OHOHOHO i am going to get soo silly with this one

- toby goes fucking BALLISTIC over halloween oh my god. it's the only time of the year where he can go into town and just be normal. everyone's got masks on, everyone's donning costumes, so he blends in like butter on bread. being able to exist in a public space without so much as a dirty look is fucking elating, it's one of the only graces of normalcy that he gets and he milks the opportunity for everything its got. what most would treat like any other day, he treats like a paragon. for one night he isn't toby rogers, wanted dead or alive - he's just some guy.

- he's suuuper fucking annoying about it too. he wants to do ALL the halloween stuff and he WILL drag you along with him whether you want it or not. his mansion buds aren't exempt from this treatment either no one is safe

- before night falls and the real fun begins, you guys are staying in and he's making SURE you have a good day. he's got those cheap halloween cookies in the oven (you know the ones they got pumpkins on em), his place is done up with lights and tacky dollar store decorations, and he's got a pot of apple cider simmering on the stove that mixes with the woodsy smell of his cabin just fucking beautifully. he tries really hard.

- he gets really fucking into it, and you can't help but find his admittedly childlike excitement over it a little endearing. if you ever commented on it, about how he hardly gets this excited over anything else, he'd probably just get all weirdly defensive and dismissive over it. he's been this way about it since he was a kid, never really grew out of it. even after everything.

- he's putting out a SPREAD of treats for you guys: candy corn, caramel corn, the works. can't have it any other way if you're marathoning slashers. there's a sort of unmentionable effort he puts into it with the halloween paper plates he goes out of his way to get (steal), one of those little details that puts this subdued warmth in your chest. he wants to make everything nice for you. he wants for you to have good things.

- you two. on his pilled up couch. grandpa sweaters. steaming apple cider in thrifted (stolen) mugs. flannel blanket. crackling embers from the log burner. oh yeah baby

- he makes halloween movie watchlists. oh yeah he's serious about this. he only really likes the kind of stuff you can snag off rental store shelves: sleepaway camp for eye candy (we need more slutty slutty men in horror flicks), hellraiser but only the 1987 one, texas chainsaw massacre but only the 1974 one (he's got a crush on leatherface that he'll never admit to anyone or himself), the thing is his fucking FAVORITE horror movie of all time, throw the final destinations in there just for fun, stuff like that. saw movies are his guilty pleasure. even with you, he tries to be some hard-ass and play it off when he gets all spooked and jumpy, though the way he clings to you just a little tighter says something else.

- yea this man has split skulls and gotten brain matter stuck in his hair and horror movies still scare him

- now the most important question: costumes.

- ok i have two visions for what he'd be and in both events he's forcing you to dress up with him: for one i can totally see him throwing on some ferris bueller getup and dragging you along as either sloane or cameron, or y'all are going as bill and ted and he's calling dibs on bill (so he has an excuse to wear a crop top it's totally only for the costume). if you refuse to dress up he will not shut up about how you're "no fun" until you give in

- he also uses the holiday as an opportunity to terrorize the general public. you guys are hiding out in corn mazes and jumping out at whatever poor soul happens to walk by like some surprise scare actor, pretending to be ghosts to scare off the kids who think hanging out at cemeteries makes them cool. he's the village menace. genuinely the HOA puts up a sign saying look out for this guy

- he takes you "trick or treating" but with the biggest quotations ever. he'll go around to the houses that just have bowls of candy out with a sign that says "please take one" or something and straight up just take the bowl

- when he isn't having (mostly) harmless fun and treating the townspeople like his plaything, he's treating you to some good wholesome traditional halloween activities, and he's a massive sucker for those. like, no fucking question about it he is dragging your ass to the pumpkin patch. if he's lucky he can get a five finger discount on some caramel apples for you two. of COURSE he's hauling some pumpkins home for you guys to carve, even if he'll just inevitably leave them to rot on his porch but he SWEARS he'll throw them out soon he SWEARS

- he insists on going to at least one haunted house even though he's the one that always gets you two kicked out for clocking scare actors. he's banned from most of them

- at some point in the night you'll probably end up crashing some college house party and, even though they scare him shitless, nothing makes him feel more like a guy than standing around with a red solo cup in his hand. he isn't there to make friends anyway (god knows he has no clue how), he's the one that just kinda pets the dog the entire time then leaves

- at the very end of day you guys are falling asleep tangled up in each other on the couch, smoke hanging in the air and the dvd screensaver bouncing around on the tv screen

#hes just a guy man idk what 2 say #he gets to hav a little humanity as a treat #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #toby rogers x reader #creepypasta #tobyhcs #tobyxreader

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kalims · 2 years

Note

Hi, there~! So I have this really fun idea in my head. I would like a headcannon in which the fem! reader asks the Dorm Leaders to be her pretend boyfriend. But what happens when the boys fall in love for real? Super fluff, please! Thanks!

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "i know this sounds weird but can you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

today's promise,

parts : one, two, three.

characters : riddle, leona, azul.

cw : book 1, 2, and 3 possible spoilers. implied harassment, fake relationship, eventual pining, fluff, this post is long-term fake relationship kinda thang.

includes : fem!reader.

wc : 7.1k words, 39.7k characters.

note : I tried to basically make the thing diverse, which included me stealing an idea from spy x family. the whole party scene basically 👩‍🦯 also I originally had no plans to post this yet, but since it's been a long time since I've active I figured to just put it. don't expect the next part to be out anytime soon lmao, I'm exhausted. sorry that this came out like a month and a half late

reblogs are appreciated <3

riddle rosehearts — when a creep is borderline harassing you and you need help to get rid of them. what better way was to drive them out with no needed force?

what the hell? you shove your newly acquired phone further under your blazer, shrinking a little when crewel's line of sight passes by your figure. you start praying to the gods, wherever, whenever to give you mercy when you feel another buzz sounding from the device.

they were anonymous, an unknown number that told you to just call them C. which is kind of hilarious since it just reinforced your impression of a troll on them.

it's been a few weeks and a few days since you've started to receive– admittedly concerning texts. of which you've brushed up as a troller, your previous thought ended up far too wrong when you received a mouthful of detail on your current attire.

which would've been normal if they also didn't pair it with a descriptive text about your classes, and what you do when you get home.

you sent the person a simple text to leave you alone, before pressing the block button. you didn't hear from them for a day. it was apparently temporary peace until you found a sealed letter in your seat, the signed name caught your attention immediately.

– C :)

it's contents were too morally wrong to even say.

so you decide to entertain them for a while. getting to know each other, never really answering their questions that are too personal for strangers to know of. you started off asking their name, they didn't grace you with a reply.

next you tried asking if they were on the same yearl, it was simple. but it would greatly slim your suspects if they said yes.

they said yes.

next, you asked. what dormitory are you in?

heartslabyul, C replied immediately.

well they clearly thought that your knowledge of their dorm would do harm.

"hey, riddle!" the boy himself slows down his steps. peering behind him curiously, the previous stern look in his eyes slightly softens when it only catches of one of his close freinds. "prefect. something you need?"

"yes actually."

he listens dutifully. and at some point riddle just halts in his steps, and in turn you do aswell. "someone is bothering you? unbelievable! it's off with their—" he fumes. an immediate scowl gracing his features. there is a noticeable fury brimming behind riddle's eyes.

you grimace. a pool of uneasiness starts to rise in your stomach. it wasn't as though you were afraid of them, but more like..

the lack of evidence would most likely pin the blame to you instead.

"I'd prefer a more.." you gesture at his reddening face. "peaceful approach."

your method is certainly.. interesting it wasn't like riddle disliked it but he would've preferred to get the problem apprehended right away. but then again he can't really speak since he isn't their target of offense.

he looked embarrassed to hear your whole grand plan. he doesn't want to say no because who is he? a dorm leader to turn away from someone who is suffering at the hands of his fellow student.

riddle seems immensely more furious than you'd ever seen him when you inform that its a heartslabyul student. he would honestly just start marching onwards his dorm to interrogate the students themselves but even compared to the whole population of the school. there's still a lot of students in the heartslabyul dorm.

but since both of you figured it'd just do harm, you somehow convinced him to abandon his previous idea and proceed with yours instead: it's simple, probably effective if done properly, no one would question it since they don't know the behind the scenes, and maybe it's a chance to get to know riddle a little better.

the first week was very awkward. you'd think he'd forgotten about it since he barely does anything to make the promise realistic but you threw the whole assumption out of the window since he seemed far too tense when you attempt to make a physical affection towards him.

thankfully his embarrassment and red face was usually mistaken for a blush of shyness so it had done a lot despite it being an unconscious effort from riddle. students had taken notice and started to gossip, much to his dismay. but then again the whole plan wouldn't have worked if word doesn't get out.

"us suddenly entering a.. relationship so suddenly would be suspicious." riddle says one day. matching your pace and looking straight ahead. as a whole, he was completely right. even after the whole overblot incident. you and him didn't really show any indication of actually being interested in each other romantically.

you nod. "yeah... but they wouldn't have any proof that this is a fake you know. therefore this could work." riddle shakes his head at you. "that is a weak contradiction."

apparently but expectedly, C caught word of the whole thing. and created a whole new number to start bothering you with. the first thing you see is them questioning you about the riddle, addressing the rumors and if they were true. in a way that depicts them looking absolutely crazy.

you would send the whole convo to crowley and hopefully get them suspended, even better if expelled but you don't really know the exact location of this person. you've tried getting an ignihyde student to help you, since they're basically geniuses with tech. but you've come to learn that they use public phones to contact you.

no not the free ones like from your old world. a whole, actual smart phone would be free to use in various stores in case of an emergency. if this was back in your world it would've been 100% robbed already.

(not canon I think this is for plot purpose)

the second week ends up going smoother than the last. you both agree showing affection in public but on a more minimal note, like how those sappy couples do. ace and deuce naturally find out first. walking into you and riddle seatedt on a bench with you casually leaning your head on his shoulder, to which he responded with placing his over yours. you both stare at the pages of a history book.

admittedly with great reluctance and the embarrassment he thought he'd gotten rid of.

ace had screamed so loudly that it made his housewarden jump from his seat and set his enraged eyes on the former. he was expectedly punished for possibly disturbing nearby students with the loud noise. and riddle took personal offense from his reaction alone.

you watch calmly from the sidelines, involved with the chaos as always though being only left to witness it.

"honestly dude? ew, why housewarden?!" ace groans. finally cornering you in the ramshackle dorm, traces of red paint all across his hands. deuce follows behind him, nodding and looking torn. of course, they didn't need to know so you just resorted to telling them the classic. "we hit off."

they didn't leave you alone. and had the most weirdest excuse to pull you away from riddle whenever they happen to see you two together. you can't tell if it's because they're lowkey protective or they just wanna spite riddle, mainly ace but deuce seems reluctant but involved regardless.

cater, of course finds out a few days later after your first year freinds do. I don't know what you expect but he's the main reason why the majority of NCR. are aware of your current status with the housewarden. if there's a fast way to get everyone aware of your status, leave it to cater and his trusty skills with social media.

cater might go a little overboard sometimes but he'd probably start of with something like hinting -> posting pictures of you and riddle (his first one was in a library, with riddle looking over your shoulder as you sat.) and -> captioning the posts with the most obvious shit like love birds. 🙄

...and he is also the reason why you are being spammed online by a bunch of curious fellow students.

contrary to what the adeuce had thought. trey was actually the one who found out first. riddle being unable to hide it with his obvious behavior and eventually confiding in trey with a red face and sputtering words. of course riddle didn't relay your secret, you trusted him enough to keep and aid you after all.

(only him.)

eventually the whole thing just starts to blend with his whole schedule. suddenly the hand holding, cheek kissing, and affection in general doesn't affect him as much as it did before. on the contrary, he sometimes finds himself enjoying it which is outrageous because he thinks it's inappropriate to feel such a thing towards you when this whole thing is just..

pretend.

in fact he starts to incorporate you into his life. he makes that he brews two cups of tea to bring over in the mornings, one for you, one for him. even better if you both caught moment alone in the gardens, just with the occasional chatter (with riddle making sure your student and personal life is doing okay) and the silence whom you don't know how it melted from awkward to comfortable.

as a second example, there is a special spot for you whenever there's an unbirthday party. sweets especially to your taste, or just general pastries like bread if you aren't too into sweets. (don't ask why you're now seated next to his seat, on his very own special table while your freinds are staring into your soul.) did I mention he completely disregarded grim and even asked adeuce to take care of him while he gets you all to himself?

thirdly. he'd grown accustomed to squeeze you into his schedule, another example being study sessions on a quiet spot in the library consisting of the torture of school, ensured after classes of course. but if riddle is beside you, helping you along the way surely it won't be too bad?

it all would've gone alone fairly well if azul and kalim didn't come barging in the middle of one of your sessions, kalim exclaiming over a new addition to their study group? while azul wears a suspiciously polite look. riddle nearly screams in suprise before going a little red at the realization–

he'd forgotten that he, along azul had taken the intuitive to tutor kalim. well, it was mostly him believing that jamil should have a break, therefore ending up up offering. he's not sure about azul though but he definitely had some kind of ulterior motive.

now the two are some kind of third and fourth wheels to your 'not dates' azul is now excessively asking a lot of questions. probably having noticed the now close intimacy you two share. some simple, and some far too embarrassing to answer.

you had to pull riddle away before he actually collared a fellow dorm head, there's a slim chance he will since riddle is always so formal, respecting and strict. azul didn't break any rules so there wasn't a need for a punishment.

slim but definitely not impossible!

he wasn't aware at first. too entranced to notice that his red faces weren't from embarrassment or shame anymore but from actual shyness. he seems to grip your hand a little tighter, spending so much time with you that there was a moment where he forgot he had duties to attend to.

ah.. you almost forgot, the creep that had been bothering you wasn't heard from for... days? your days had been going so splendidly that it brought you the blessing of forgetting about them…

as a final precaution you swipe open your messages and to your absolute delight the last time they texted you was about a week ago. nothing was heard which meant that they hopefully got the whole memo.

"riddle, thank you." you smiled at him one afternoon. riddle raises a brow at your frankly, rare thankful behavior. "for what?"

you beam at him, so blissfully that his hearts starts running laps. it had such a hold on him that he had to verbally clear his throat. "they're gone! I didn't notice but they haven't been bothering me anymore." who? they? who is they?

ohh...

oh..

you don't know if you were hallucinating but it almost seemed like the strands on his head, shaped like hearts, drooped as if it broke.

"so.. you don't need me--my help anymore?" he questions quietly. the answer is so clear in your head, but even you pause in silence. unable to answer.

riddle doesn't know how he got the courage to do what he had in the following moments. maybe a burst of effort to keep you with him.

he huffed. "hmph, prefect. you've stolen something from me." your face constricts into slight horror but mainly confusion is present as you point at yourself. "me? I have?"

he grabs your finger and navigates it to point at his chest. "yes. stolen items must be replaced. there isn't a problem if I want yours right?"

"👁👄👁" that was smooth.

leona kingscholar — when you've accidentally told your freinds that you're in a relationship in a spur of the moment, and now have to prove it to be true.. or else.

it was nice having freinds. other than a pair of boys atleast, you love ace and deuce but sometimes.. you'd just prefer it if sometimes we're a little calmer.. and not full of half hearted brawls that you always get dragged into.

socializing was a pain in the ass sometimes, and definitely hard to do when you know absolutely nothing about the new world. so you literally felt like some foreign kid in a new school, on a new continent, starting school.

so you'd guess it's the reason why you started clinging onto a pair of ladies, just your age. they were attending another college a few ways over NRC, they were apart of a sorority. as crazy as it seems that those actually exist here aswell.

well.. not exactly clingy but you let them basically do anything they want to you. they're actually really nice. it sounds like you're just a loser but you'd just rather not walk up to someone and go. "hey! wanna be freinds?" it sounds way too awkward.

"you're really pretty, you know?" A twirls a lock of your hair and giggles. you blink in slight embarrassment and guiltily stare at your shoes. "thanks.."

B perks up from the bed. "well yeah! im suprised you haven't got a boyfreind yet." she teases. behind her sits C, C grunts and not so violently pulls B from the hair which causes the girl to jerk back.

"OW??"

"stop moving.." C mumbles.

B sits up, exasperated. "whatever.. anyways! the house is gonna host a party next month." she points at you. "you in?"

you pause and think about your schedule. it's clean, right? finally, you nod. "yeah."

A grins "for once were letting in plus two's! you better make sure you bring someone. kay?"

who the hell would you even bring? well… ace or deuce would count but if you brought one the other is bound to start following as well. kinda like they come in a two in one package.

"speaking of… do you have anyone in mind?"

"ah.."

B leaps up and starts squealing. "oh MY GOD!! don't tell me you're gonna bring a boyfriend!" she laughs. slapping you playfully. in the spur of the moment you answer.

"heh… in your dre–"

"um yeah.."

they all pause. "WHAT?"

"so you're telling me, you told your freinds that you have a boyfreind? " leona scowls. leaning his cheek on his palm as his tail lazily swishes behind him peering up at you, looking half asleep.

he groans. "out of all people.. me, really?" you sigh and nod mutely. "sorry. it was in the spur of the moment, i kind of... blurted it out and they don't believe me."

leona makes another sound of seeming irritation. "so your pride is on line? fine.. remember, you're indebted to me after this."

he pauses. "oh, for the record. you're gonna listen to whatever I say. got it?" you can only nod. he was the one accepting after all, it hardly seemed like a fair deal but whatever gets him to succumb to your one wish.

this will be okay right? this will be beneficial to him, even better if it requires minimal effort

leona still can't wrap the thought of why, you've chosen him out of all students in the school, even one of your so dear, first year best freinds would be a better choice. he internally sighs at your carelessness. If you hadn't been so quick to be defensive then maybe he wouldn't be in this situation at all..

but then again he would still need to lift another limb if he ended up not accepting with ruggie being busy in the meanwhile. he thinks, watching you scurry around. obviously struggling and lowkey annoyed at his vigorous commands. is this how a king feels? to be able to get someone to obey without much complaints.

ruggie doesn't know what in the seven is going on and why you were like some kind of new, additional servant to the housewarden but he doesn't really care, if anything your involvement had made his life a lot easier.

and what does ruggie appreciate? something to lessen the load of work leona just piles on him! nice see you again prefect. now you're gonna be someone that ruggie's gonna use to skip out on all the work he deems to hard for his poor, overworked self. be ready. he's gonna work you to the absolute bone.

accompanied by lots of school works, upcoming tests and more errands from crowley. adding leona's needs didn't exactly help your case. if anything it made your headaches more frequent and, more prone to passing out because you could literally see your vision blur at random times in the day.

your 'freinds' ended up inviting you to some kind of acquaintance party. which you'd be stress free of going to if it weren't the fact that they insisted for your so called 'boyfreind' to come along. for a couple of freinds, they sure are persistent on humiliating you. but what can you do? they have more influence than you.

"there's a party, I need you to go with me."

you had told leona when he had his back turned to you. "hngh... what a pain..." you could hear him mumble and perhaps even the small disappointment of knowing that you'll be going alone. it's not that you minded his reaction to the situation, if you went alone then you'd be proved as a liar.

the party was in a few weeks. prior to the party then you'd go along as his errand runner until the day arrives. even then, there's still a small bubble of hope. despite the fact that you're sure he won't even bother. for now you'd trust him, leona isn't known for his promises. but he helped you during that time in octavinelle, even if the intentions were made to benefit himself.

..and if he just put up with your little plan. he'd get an obedient little 'servant' he can boss around with ruggie. if you can deal with crowley then you surely can put up with leona. at the very least, his commands are just him being his lazy self compared to the piles crowley would give you.

his commands usually being "fetch me another pillow in the closet." or "get me meat from the kitchen." leona being leona.. = never putting the effort to do something rather than snooze the whole day.

the first week consisted of you mainly getting more packed with work. crewel noticed the tired face you sported in class, he even caught you sleeping several times. usually he'd whip up a good punishment.. but, maybe you need it. of course he'd confronted crowley about it but you don't exactly know.

and your whole load got lighter, even if it isn't a lot. and using the confusion into advantage the following days goes by with you feeling lighter than you'd ever been.

leona still stayed the same. you don't even know why you went to him. he didn't make it believable nor initiate anything that implies that he'd chosen you. you were frustrated because even your freinds had noticed despite their being not even from NCR. you'd never posted about leona, only the occasional food pics you'd post on magicam.

they'd still pester you about showing his face.

of course. the school doesn't even know about your whole predicament so if leona doesn't want to, then why even bother? after all, they're not the ones who you're appealing to. slowly this whole things seems very useless since you'd just end up indebted to the lion who didn't lift a finger to help you.

"maybe jack would have been a better option?" you mumble randomly. carefully folding a piece of shirt that definitely belongs to leona, it's scent is eerily familiar. you fan yourself with your hand, it's absolutely hot in here.. how do these boys even survive in the heat?

unkownst to you of the lion that just walked in on the right time to pick up on your words despite still being far away from you. if there was one thing leona hated– it was being compared.

this is weird, what would leona want to call for you? "for your hard work, I'll give you a little prize." leona stretches. ears twitching pleasantly at the sensation of his bones popping. then he lays down and glances at you side ways. "what're you waiting for? come here." while you stood dumbly in the middle of the botanical garden.

and that's how you ended up casually tucked under leona's arm on a patch of green in the botanical garden. the grass tresses tickle your face as if it was caressing it. it brought little comfort to the racing heart you had, and you feared that leona could pick it up. "well this isn't bad is it?"

he opens his eyes and peeks at you, a little exasperated. "herbivore. calm down will you? don't catch feels for me so fast." before you could answer he's already fast asleep, even going as far as snuggling closer like you were his pillow!

"that's not..." you trail off. awkwardly adjusting your position as you'd tried to wriggle out prior, which ended up being a fail since you failed to recognize how strong a lion could be.. you sigh and succumb to your ultimate demise. might as well catch up on some sleep, right?

(is it really a coincidence for leona to suddenly pull you to nap just after you've looked so exhausted? I will leave you to interpret that.) <- a factor to his invitation, the minor one being him hell bent on proving that he's obviously better and not one to compare to.

"leonaaa.. leonaaa! I know you're in here.."

ruggie ends up finding his housewarden and the prefect of ramshackle snuggling into each other like a pair of lion mates.. er... lion and human mate?? was that even okay.. a lion and a human together wasn't very common, lions liked to stick to other lions. uncommon but you're not the only case.

the second week passes by with less stress than the first one. you're now somehow obligated to attend leona's mandatory morning, afternoon, and night naps. the fact that the leona himself is dragging himself to your class instead of actually sleeping to drag you to sleep with him. (that was confusing) is suspicious enough as it is.

so jack ends up having an urge, something to resolve his curiosity that he can't help. though he has an inner crisis, he ultimately ends up asking you about it to which you casually reply. "oh, leona? we're... together.." you mumbled.

what now 😃

jack is honestly quite confused. come on now. you and the housewarden? that's the pair that no one would expect. if he remembers correctly. you and leona barely talked to each other and even got into a few disputes yourself! it just sounds kinda bizarre given how he treats you like a nobody.

^ typical leona behavior to everyone else but still..

from what you know. leona doesn't own a magicam, hell. you haven't even seen him carrying a phone around. but apparently you were wrong when ruggie casually showed you leona's page like it was nothing. you woulda assumed it's just ruggie trying to mess with you if the followers didn't have the verified user of @/farena. people from leona's homeland struck you as people who don't really care about technology but guess you're wrong again..

(leona wasn't following back)

somehow theres actually stuff that the page has: for example a blurry picture of leona sleeping. and the caption being messy letters that you used enough brain juice to form 'unca leona'. you laugh and follow leona as a joke, scrolling through his page full of blurry pics and selfies from cheka. some from the king himself.

though you don't know if you're suprised if leona followed you back or how he was still awake. his 0 following now turned into 1.

now you have a curious big brother in your dms whose curiously asking who you are. and your freinds pestering you once again, this time quering about the mysterious follow of a prince! you almost forgot they knew your social media.

you end up ignoring them in favor of actually getting to know farena. you suppose that if you'd told leona he'd definitely get upset and stingy with you so you decide on not letting him know. farena exchanges greetings with you before going into a discussion about leona.

as if some kind of flip. he did a 180° and is now telling you embarrassing stories about leona. sending you old pictures of a young leona that you'd never thought you'd see.

what an entertaining night..

the third week arrived faster than you had thought. you were mainly focused on completing your tasks as well as balancing your student life. if anything both are pretty much the same. at that time, leona had pretty much given you access to everything he owns. he no longer makes a fuss over you arriving at the dorm, if anything. he seems pleased.

and sometimes he calls for you himself! last time you remember he was just about seconds from grumbling away because of your presence alone due to the confiscation if your dorm! and now if lions could purr you could pretty much imagine him doing so because he seems so intent on letting you sleep next to him.

on.his.bed.

did I mention he kicks grim out of the bed when he thinks you don't know as you both sleep? someone get this cat a break because you are both grim's blessing and nightmare. all these boys are doing crazy things to sever his bond with HIS henchman! >:(

oh you wanna sleep on his bed? wait for him would you? you're hungry? fine. lion prides usually have their individual fair shares anyways. basically the epitome of "we share everything." this doesn't extend to him only you know, so there's unspoken rule that you have to share yours too. he doesn't really ask much but you're starting to question why he keeps taking your blankets, returning it and then taking it again after a few weeks.

(I'm sure you know)

surprisingly leona's attendance to class had been so frequent whenever you were somehow involved to the point where trein had asked you to 'help' him in class. by that he really meant being some kind of assistant.. not that you minded (you did) but why?

oh… crewel is his potionology teacher? he hates the professor because he treats leona like a goddamn puppy. so leona just skips it all out until somehow you had gotten involved. just when he was about to step out from the classroom to skip you enter to pass a stack of paper to crewel. the man asks you to assist him with some things.

why's he suddenly in his seat??

did I mention that lions are quite possessive of things they claim?

…

the weeks just blur in comparison and now you're walking to the party alone. shivering at the unfortunate winter blessed upon the streets of.. this world or whatever.. it's been only a few times since you've left campus, a majority only ever to visit the girls.

you peer at your watch. he's 32 minutes late... you sigh, shoving your cold fingers in your pockets. what was the point in waiting anymore? you'd be more of an embarrassment if you turn up to the party more late, and partnerless..

the cold, merciless winter doesn't do justice against the icy feeling your heart adorns.

that's how you arrived at the doorstep of your freind, particles of visible snow clouding your attire. as they struggle to hold in their laugh. "you're late!" I know..

"c-pfft..come on in!"

you nod. dusting off the snow over your jacket and hanging it. it's too bad. you look down at the attire under your coat. cause for once you had actually tried to make an effort to make yourself look presentable. to try and make yourself look appealing even, in the slightest hopes of impressing…

hm. you shake your head and stand awkwardly in a corner, everyone doesn't seem to notice you.

this normalcy--, you glance at someone making hand motions. then their hand bursts into a dance of fiery, passionate flames. --is something I can never get.

after all… there is no such thing as magic back in your world. it's dull, boring and certainly tempted to just pluck away all your hopes and burn it when you start high school.

you ended up staying for more or less, half an hour. you let yourself explore the house, it was quite big. smaller than ramshackle but it looks more regal and clean. you're almost jealous. the food was good, there wasn't a lot of meat. mainly vegetables.

the most you could do was escape to the front porch to ignore their never ending remarks. your phone in your hand as you engage in small, admittedly idiotic talk with your two best freinds, seated on a swinging, wooden..swing thing. housewarden collared me again. ace's text read. it provided you with small warmth to fight against glacial temperature.

you smile.

you don't have animal ears like the savanaclaw beastmen but you can almost hear a pair of footwear crunching in the snow. then there's a pair of shoes entering your vision. you look up and--

"leona?"

"this party's boring, let's go." he doesn't acknowledge the fact that he basically stood you up for like an.. hour or two? you always knew he was prideful. instead he engaged in a minute length staring contest. until he slouches his shoulders and sighs in defeat. "fine, have it your way."

silence.

"you know I set up an alarm, I missed it." you blink and stare at him from your peripheral vision, it looks like he's going to continue. "can ya believe that? I'm disrupting my sleep for you. tch, so don't act so sad when I've gone through all the trouble. all right?"

".. you don't need these losers anyways. all you need is me."

you stay quiet when he sits down beside you, spreads his legs and slides his arm behind you, stretching. like he owns the house. the swing creaks under his weight.

it doesn't feel so cold anymore. "I'm here now so you owe me." you shake your head. the whole thing was basically pointless but you were too happy to end the whole pretending thing. "what do you want.?"

he grins. "you."

you gawk. "huh?!"

me after writing the last part..👩‍🦽

azul ashengrotto — when you’re too curious for your own good so you strike up a deal.

"to sum it all up, you would like an experience?" azul hums. the slightest tip of his hat casts the ever mysterious persona over his face, making it more eery.

you blankly nod. a bit embarrassed to admit that you've come to him for the silliest of reasons: to experience a relationship to the full extent.

you weren't that desperate. just.. curious. you know what they say don't you? curiosity kills the cat.

azul assumes a confident look. "hehehe.. I can do that, aren't i so kind." for I, am gracious.

woah is this some kind of deja vu..

this time around, after learning through your past lessons. you've skimmed every part of the contract for any loop holes that might and will be used against you.

oh.. this whole thing was a grand plan was it? to get you to be his anemone.. servant? but wasn't he banned by crowley from ever using his unique magic? perhaps there's still some kind of catch that you haven't caught on yet. you cast one more suspicious look at the smiling azul before signing your signature on the very bottom.

anyhow, the details of the contract was for azul to help you experience a relationship. in return you'll be an additional help, whenever. if he needs a helping hand you'd be inclined to aid him.

there was this absolutely embarrassing silence that made you want to self destruct. because he's just there smiling like nothing is wrong as he tucks the contract into his... sleeve? what the hell how could that fit in there. 🙁

you shake your head just as he extends a hand towards you. when you look up he displays you an awfully charming grin. "shall we?" you take his hand. "where are we going?"

"I must not let a lady walk by herself, no? even it isn't night. it is still dangerous."

it was first thing in the morning when you set out to octavinella since you knew azul would be up anyways, plus there were less students around the campus. even your grim was fast asleep in the mornings, you'd have to go back quickly if you don't want him to make a fuss about the lack of breakfast. not that crowley provided you with it anyways..

when you arrive in ramshackle. grim is already on the front porch, looking gravely hungry. his ears perk up when he catches sight of you. and then droops again when he sees azul on your side, to him. looking very suspicious as always. "hey you! what're you doing with my henchman!" grim screeched. obviously still scarred from his previous experiences that weren't so pleasant with the octavinella dorm leader.

you had to restrain grim before he could start tearing up azul's coat.

the first week is relatively normal. and azul actually makes it so that you feel as though you're actually in a relationship with him. but you've both come to an agreement that the affection will remain to a certain 'professional' extent, as he is not entirely comfortable with it. which you've come to learn, he isn't used to it.

you once accidentally bumped shoulders with him when you were sitting on a long chair with a few other students, his glasses fogged up for some reason, his face was tinged pink and he jerked back so far that you thought he actually hated you for 10 seconds straight.

he kind of stayed more hyper aware of his surroundings after that.

I kind of got off topic so let's continue the whole thing going around the first week.

azul has made it possible to organize some kind of dates, exclusively only ever happening whenever he's sure that both of your schedules align. It's surprisingly a daily occurrence since the first and second year's schedule are pretty much the same. (if I'm wrong please inform me.)

it wasn't too long before the tweels found out. maybe a couple of days after you've made the deal with azul. after the promise of floyd leaving him alone if he'd tell them why he's acting to affectionate with the prefect of ramshackle, which ends up with floyd looking a little disappointed and jade, bemused.

"ehh.. that's too bad, I thought you actually charmed shrimpy.. your game is weaker than I thought."

"excuse me?!"

"fufufu.. most entertaining, azul looks flustered."

after more comments from floyd. azul eventually makes a promise that he will absolutely charm you to fall in love with him merely out of spite of his childhood freind. and you're just confused why he's taking the whole thing a lot more seriously.

second week is filled with vigorous efforts of azul trying to woo you after doing excessive research of your own interests. he isn't usually so fired up over floyd's teasing as he'd basically grown up with it, but for some reason he is?

you're just confused why he's suddenly so determined to treat the whole thing more seriously than before. you don't exactly find the sudden change unpleasant, just a little suspicious as to what made his transition so apparent.

you always 'accidentally' bump into azul at the most convenient times. it usually happens whenever a class had ended and there isn't another for a while. azul just smiles and invites you to sit with him for lunch. which is a suprise since he was so adamant on keeping the deal under wraps.

you could only sit beside him. silently weeping at the prying stares many had thrown your way. the twins ended up sitting in your table (you could've sword azul's glasses cracked when floyd separated you two and sat in the middle of you and azul)

jade only displays a cool, menacing smile as usual.

by then you'd gotten unusually close with the trio. finding out things you hadn't even assumed, like how azul seems so aggressive with the twins sometimes out of goodwill. now you have a pair of lowkey protective eels and a stupefied octopus that can help you for a price scam.

being friends with them had its pros, came with it was the cons. which included several of the students that tried to be freindly with you being less talkative, suddenly paling in the middle of the conversation. (unkownst to you about the two glowering eels behind you)

the possessiveness is given by all three of them. for a reason still unknown but you're still skeptical.

the information that this whole thing is just playing pretend would most likely be tucked neatly in the back of your mind. where you'd admittedly forget for a few moments, too deep to escape from the temporary loneliness and certainly too real to register that it isn't.

here's the thing. azul is absolutely great at deceiving, you're already aware the moment you learned just how many contracts he'd 'earned'.

and unfortunately for you. there was a time where you'd actually thought he genuinely loved you because the way his eyes just.. sparkle, crinkling up and the soft smile.. you just rather shake your head and convince yourself that it wasn't real, it never was.

"thank you for your help, as promised. I'll help out with whatever you need as payment."

azul's brows creases. "wha—oh.. ahem. I see, much appreciated. let's talk about the details later." he nods. uncharacteristically quiet.

there is a moment of silence before he speaks up again, looking more confident than ever. "just wait a second. would you like to extend the deadline?" you blink in bewildered and gape like a fish.

so all you could muster up was a small. "huh?" where was this going and where did he get the idea? you can almost feel your heart just about to swim away! the offer is so tempting but you aren't sure about what he wants..

you shake your head. "for um.. how long?"

he smirks. "forever."

okay I lowkey got embarassed writing that so bye 👋👋

🏷 : @dicetheroll @ravynous @gh0stbastard

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cybertron-after-dark · 3 months

Note

Taking inspo from your post

Could you write about the mind control machine swapping the minds of these Decepticons and Autobots:

Shockwave

Knockout

Bulkhead

Dreadwing

Ratchet

Ultra Magnus

Wheeljack

Soundwave

Optimus

Predaking

Use a random picker or a wheel to choose who gets mind swapped with who

If you wanna take it further, then add the reactions of the unaffected members on the situation and their behaviour around the affected mecha

good luck and have fun

Ratchet < - > Shockwave

Bulkhead < - > Knockout

Soundwave < - > Optimus

Dreadwing < - > Predaking

Wheeljack < - > Ultra Magnus

Dear Primus the wheel understands COMEDY

Ratchet

His depth perception is GONE and he is NOT happy. He's even LESS happy that he can't CONVEY how distinctly not happy he is nonverbally because he can't even make facial expressions anymore, so he's taken to LOUDLY bitching even more than usual. Admittedly, the extra weight to throw around and the precision-designed clawtips are very useful, and he likes being able to pop out of the ground bridge and lay down cover fire without getting mixed up in the action. It may be giving him ideas for backup weaponry in the future.

Shockwave

The lack of his typical ranged weaponry is frustrating. That anyone should be content with bladed melee weapons alone is simply illogical. He also finds himself incredibly annoyed with the subpar earth-based altmode and all the unnecessary human designed internal kibble it comes with. He does not naturally emote at all, and he will not be starting today, sudden addition of facial features be damned. Gets pretty creepy to see Ratchet's face completely devoid of his usual grumpiness in favor of a completely blank look.

Bulkhead

By the Allspark he feels so small... Speed has never been his strong suit, and grace ESPECIALLY hasn't. Sure the drill and the buzzsaw have been useful when he needs to deal damage, but they're just not the same as good old fashioned Blunt Force Trauma™️. He gets frustrated pretty quickly. However, he does take a certain malicious, schadenfreude-filled delight in messing up the good doctor's finish. He might just take Miko off-roading before they trade back 😈

Knockout

DONT LOOK AT HIM, HES UGLY!! Knockout is going to spend this ordeal researching a cure while locked in a closet... Whatever closet is big enough to fit him anyway. All his usual hideaway spots are way too small for such a big lug like Bulkhead. Which means he's stuck out in the open... Looking like a clumsy, dull, green oaf... UGHH!!!! New plan, time to lock himself in the medbay and have breakdown work his magic with a rotary buffer. New paint job, new slimming decals, he's going the whole 9 yards to make himself borderline presentable. Whether Bulkhead wants it or not.

Soundwave

Soundwave is taking this very special opportunity to do a little trolling. Under normal circumstances, he's sworn never to let his voice be heard again. However... It's not really his voice, now is it? Besides, he doesn't have any of his remix equipment OR his visor screen. His normal means of communication are out. Though he does have Laserbeak to record him while he uses optimus's face and voice to say all kinds of horrible, blackmail-worthy slag that could completely ruin his public image whenever Cybertron gets restored. He'll definitely take requests too :)

Optimus

Optimus is a mech who typically garners a lot of respect, by virtue of his position, his demeanor, and his sheer size. What he is not used to eliciting, however, is fear. And it hurts just a little seeing his trusted allies shrink back when they see him. He has no face to give comforting looks. His voice is not his, especially not under so many layers of off-putting static. Even his big, steady servos, so used to pulling people up when they fall, are good for little more than striking. And that's without mentioning the monstrous tentacles he finds himself relying on. He feels terrifying, and he doesn't like it one bit.

Dreadwing

Dreadwing does not like the Predacons. He doesn't like the Predacons one bit. Call him stuffy with his moral code, but he's firmly of the camp that if something is dead it should STAY dead. The odd little experiments Shockwave concocted are no exceptions. They shouldn't be alive, plain and simple. And the fact that currently he IS one of the resurrected beasts and the brain of this disgusting undead thing is running around in HIS body is, quite frankly, unacceptable. He's going to be looming over the resident scientists with his new terrifying form until they find a way to fix this grievous error and return things to some semblance of normalcy.

Predaking

He feels... Terribly small. Especially in his altmode. Flying without needing to move your wings at all is quite a strange experience. As is having no face or limbs outside robot mode. He's just so compact and it's all very uncomfortable. He will admit, though, it's nice being treated less like an animal. He's yearned to be seen as an equal, true and proper, and this is about as close as he's gotten.

Wheeljack

Oh man, he switched bodies with the straight laced hard aft? Man, if Primus really has a hand in how things play out, he's one funny bitch. He's taking full comedic advantage of this situation, much to Magnus's chagrin. He's saying every swear he knows and breaking every petty rule in the autobot code that he knows isn't really enforceable. He's going on insane monologues about how rules keep us from descending into chaos in a horrible impression of Magnus that overshoots and ends up sounding closer to Sam the eagle from the muppets than anything. The kids are laughing their asses off. Bots who have worked with magnus are doing everything in their power not to laugh, with mixed success rates.

Ultra Magnus

Ulta Magnus does not care too much about being shorter or currently looking like a delinquent with no regard for anything other than his own personal amusement and some abstract concept of "coolness." ...Okay, he cares a lot and its very frustrating that people take a second to take him seriously again, but he cares much MORE about the delinquent currently inhabiting HIS frame and making a mockery of everything he believes in!!! It's unacceptable behavior and his body should be treated with the respect it deserves, not puppeted around for unfunny satire!!! He refuses to stoop to his level and mock back, so he'll simply stare him down until he gets the damn message.

#maccadam #transformers #tfp #ratchet #shockwave #bulkhead #knockout #optimus prime #soundwave #dreadwing #predaking #ultra magnus #wheeljack #im sorry this took ages i kept getting sick and not being able to write anything 🥲

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theseshipsshallsail · 20 days

Text

Summary:

They’re addictive, Elio’s lips, and visions of him pursing them at the al fresco dining table - biting them subconsciously whilst transcribing Haydn or Bach - take up an inordinate amount of his waking hours. But here and now they’re utterly ruinous: pressed to Oliver’s own in an apparent quest to devour.

A FEAST OF THE SENSES

Oliver was twelve years old when he received his first proper kiss: an impromptu game of spin-the-bottle at the Freidman’s summer garden party. He never learned her name - can only recall a general sense of inadequacy and Cinnamon-flavoured Dentyne - but it’s safe to say he’s kissed plenty of others since, and thankfully with much greater finesse than his terrified, seventh grade fumblings.

Not that he’s prone to brag.

On the contrary, he’s spent years denying his baser urges. Burying deep the conflicting passions he’s seldom dared acknowledge outright. Yet the moment he’d found himself kissing Elio Perlman in the blanketing wildflowers of Monet’s berm was nothing short of a revelation: and one that’s merely grown in intensity with every heartfelt intimacy thereafter.

He’d dreamed of their first embrace - hypothetically, of course, though in exquisitely vivid detail - but reality, he’s found, is a slow-burning splendour. Softness reigns when it’s just the two of them, and Elio’s innate curiosity is a warm and gentle fire that sets his hazel eyes alight.

Ironic, admittedly - that he kisses like he’s in no hurry, when time is a luxury they can ill afford - yet by the same token he’ll lean into Oliver with the whole of his being.

Raking blunt fingernails along his strangled rib cage.

Anchoring knobbly knees to the curve of his waist.

Tickling those flexing toes against the sensitive soles of his grass-stained feet.

But he’s more than a temptation, is Elio: he’s the catalyst that spurred his reinvention. His complex nature changed him fundamentally - knocked him on his ass then right off his axis, too - and Oliver’s charting this brand new orbit with gusto; an eager disciple, some might say, worshipping at the altar of generous lips still laced with the savoury aftertaste of Pasta alla Norma.

Self-restraint falls by the wayside as he slides a palm beneath Elio’s t-shirt; mapping the ridged line of his vertebrae from nape to boxers-covered ass. The other, he places at the graceful column of his throat; thumb caressing the jut of his Adam’s apple in a lazy to-and-fro. It bobs on cue when he swallows back a groan, and licking past his cupid’s bow Oliver draws forth a series of heady whimpers until Elio’s damn near panting; each blissed out sigh hot and provocative where it brushes his scratchy cheek.

And yet he never really breaks contact, does Elio: not even when he’s struggling to catch his breath.

Simply rests that supple pout at the corner of Oliver’s mouth; sweat-damp curls framing his face as he nestles into their chamomile-scented pillow: shamelessly seeking his touch.

“I could do this forever,” he murmurs, achingly vulnerable in the ashen light of dawn, and something heavy lifts from Oliver's chest as he steals another kiss: the ghost of his name on the air between them almost smothered by the quicksilver blood in his veins.

“You and me both…” he allows - holding Elio close - and not for the first time compiles a mental checklist of the things he’ll need to do to make it so.

#call me by your name #cmbyn fanfic #elio x oliver

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imliketheiceifreeze · 1 year

Text

Human Miles Quaritch x reader

Good girl-part 1

warnings: smut, swearing, minors DNI

4,491 words

PART TWO

background info:

you are a 25 year old botanist, closely shadowing Grace Augustine when you are forced to spend time with the very man you and your whole department despise in order to be granted access to a mission on Pandora; can you come to an arrangement that would suit you both?

You were deep in thought as you worked side by side with the great Grace Augustine, in her element as she sampled plants, her findings surprising even herself. It seemed the connection between Pandoran flora and the planet itself was much more intertwined than you ever would've believed.

"Can you believe it, ranger rick is requiring you to go through his bootcamp before you're allowed on the next mission, he'll delay the whole project, and with my best scientist too,"

Grace huffed as she paced back and forth in the lab, retrieving varying pieces of equipment and samples in a panicked flurry.

"What?"

You hissed lowly.

"Yeah you better believe it, I want you to kick that asshole in the balls if you get the chance,"

she growled, exasperated with the head of security's constant meddling in the science department, a place he didn't and would never understand.

"But why, why me?"

You whined, almost dropping your pipette at the thought of the horrors that man would put you through to ensure you were 'mission ready.'

"You're the only scientist that's not been out in Pandora yet, apparently it's part of a new safety regime, personally I think he's just doing it to get under my skin,"

she continued, finally ceasing her bustling around the room in a panic, settling one hand on her hip as she pondered all the possible solutions.

"I'd say.."

You mused in turn, the room falling silent as you both thought.

"Well I guess I'd better buck up and kick his ass,"

She laughed at the though, oh you were going to beat that man if it cost you your life

"Haha, and do it in the next week if that's alright,"

Grace chuckled a long, obviously amused at the thought of finally putting such an arrogant man in his place.

"Oh you bet I will."

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

You were informed that you would be attending daily strengthening and sparring sessions with the Colonel, in order for him to assess your abilities, your first session starting that very evening.

"God, I really don't want to do this, it's bullshit,"

you moaned aloud, head in hands as you addressed the table full of colleagues, all sympathising with your predicament. You hated the smug man, always wearing those stupid tank tops to show off his-admittedly muscular- arms, smirking at everyone like he was better than them.

"You never know, maybe you'll enjoy it,"

someone wiggled their eyebrows making you gag dramatically, pushing them playfully.

"If I ever enjoy that man, I want you to shoot me in the face,"

you deadpanned, making the table erupt into laughter once more, you, however, did not laugh, being deadly serious, and instead decided to distract yourself by shovelling food into your mouth as if you might be at risk of starving. That was until you felt a large hand gripping your shoulder, turning your head to find its owner, your eyes were met with a cold stare belonging to Colonel Quaritch.

"Y/N,"

he grinned, squeezing your flesh whilst his eyes tracked your movements like a predator watching its prey.

"Colonel,"

you seethed, ripping your shoulder from his grasp as if his touch burned, eyes still locked onto his, waiting for him to reveal his reasons for interrupting you important meal. He simply tapped his watch as he eyed you.

"I believe our first session is upon us,"

he spoke slowly, that same smug smile painted across his face, the one you knew he wore only to cover up his aggression.

"I need to change,"

you spoke dumbfounded, as if it were his fault and not your own poor timekeeping skills.

"Well you better hurry up, I expect you at the gym in 15, don't make me wait,"

he scolded, waltzing off like a peacock as your eyes dragged up from his heavy boots to the back of his head, hoping to burn holes in it.

"For fucks sake,"

you mumbled, pretending to bash your head in on the table before swinging your legs out from the bench and half jogging out of the hall, ignoring Grace's yell to 'not have too much fun', causing a scowl to pinch at your eyebrows, yet you had no time for a witty comeback. For as confident as you were talking shit about the Colonel to Grace and her colleagues, when faced with his looming presence, you couldn't deny the fear that prickled down the back of your spine, especially when he looked at you like he was about to eat you.

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

"Well well well, any later and I would've made you drop and give me 100."

He teased as you sprinted in, bent over and panting before the session had even begun. You said nothing at this comment though, suddenly feeling a little shy being in such an enclosed space with the intimidating man.

"You do any sports Y/N?"

He questioned, his tone now serious as he cocked his hip, one hand resting on his belt buckle.

"I dance a little."

you answered, causing a flash of surprise to cross his features as he clapped his hands together.

"Great, good to know you're not completely sedentary like the other science pukes,"

he laughed making your nose wrinkle in anger.

"Now first is fitness, so I want you to run laps around this room until I tell you to stop,"

he instructed, nodding his head at you expectantly as you groaned in annoyance, starting up another jog and beginning to fulfil his wishes, albeit reluctantly.

The man was gruelling, having you shaking after only the 'warmup' was complete, now looking up at him incredulously from your hands and knees after he'd forced you to show him another 20 press-ups.

"Gotta say, I'm impressed, most the other tree huggers would've tapped out by now,"

he grinned causing you to rise up shakily with your fists clenched at your sides.

"Yeah, well I'm not a quitter,"

you spat, holding his intense gaze, your words only seeming to amuse him further.

"Hm I can see that,"

he nodded with an unreadable expression.

"Go and get a drink, when you come back we'll start with some basic self defence,"

he grunted, watching you jog over to your water, taking greedy gulps from the bottle, the sweet relief from the burning in your throat making you moan in delight, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. Once you'd moved the bottle from your lips, your eyes shot to the side, suddenly aware of the Colonel's intense gaze, making you feel exposed as you wiped the water dripping from your chin hastily so as not to make a mess. He coughed to ease the silence before speaking again, more softly than usual,

"You ready?"

You nodded, walking swiftly over to his side, ready to receive instruction.

"Your daddy ever teach you how to punch?"

He asked condescendingly, making your eyes narrow, your body acting before your brain could comprehend, throwing an admittedly feeble, hit to his jaw that he blocked with ease, a deep laugh ripping from his throat as he did.

"I'll take that as a no,"

he jibed, doing nothing to dissipate your anger.

"Come on stand properly,"

he tutted in annoyance, using one leg to kick apart your own before moving your arms up to your face.

"Keep these here to block,"

he grunted, placing one hand on your hip, causing your breath to hitch at his closeness.

"When you punch with this arm, twist from here to give you power,"

he manoeuvred one of your arms with calloused hands to show what he meant, his grip surprisingly gentle on your waist, causing your body temperature to rise exponentially. You'd never really had the chance to look at him up close until now but he wasn't bad to look at, you wondered if he had a wife or girlfriend back home. Then it hit you, what you were feeling for a man you'd always claimed you hated, yet in that moment all you wanted was for him to bend you over on that gym floor and take you for all you were worth.

"You got that darlin'?"

He stifled a laugh at your obvious staring, you looked like a deer in headlights as a crimson blush crawled its way up from your neck to your cheeks.

"Yes sir,"

you breathed, voice barely above a whisper, his presence starting to affect you much more than you'd hoped. He stood back, letting go of you, much to your dismay, as he raised both palms, flat, either side of his face.

"Come at me then."

You sat back in a lunge, placing your feet like he said before and twisting your body to land one punch to his left palm.

"You call that a hit, go again,"

he growled, causing you to come back harder.

"Better, again."

His lesson continued on much the same, with him ordering you to punch quicker, hold yourself stronger, all while he didn't seem to be breaking a sweat, those blue eyes following your every move.

"Sir, how is punching your hand gonna help me survive Pandora?"

You whined, tired out after half an hour of relentless jabs.

"You questioning my teachings doll? what do you suggest then huh?"

You rolled your eyes at his condescending attitude, ceasing your assault on his reddened hands as you sat back in your hip to think.

"I want to spar,"

you concluded suddenly, causing a choking laugh to rip from the man above you, his chest heaving with the force of his amusement.

"You, want to spar with me?"

He accentuated the words by pressing a finger into your sternum before pointing back to himself, a look of disbelief settled into his features as he waited for a response.

"That's what I said isn't it? Or are you scared?"

You teased, catching your lip between your teeth as a devious smile crossed your lips.

"Oh that's how you wanna play, alright then lil darlin', do your worst,"

he stepped back to allow you room to attack as he positioned himself, eyes tracking your body movements like a fox. You wanted him to attack first to give you the upper hand but you could see he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction. So you did what you knew you could, lunging towards him you threw a fist to his jaw, but like the last time he caught your wrist, using it to lock your arm behind you and pulling you into his chest.

"I thought I already taught you how to punch,"

he mused, pulling your arm tighter, causing you to moan in pain as you struggled against him.

"Obviously not well enough,"

you seethed, lifting a leg behind you to crash a foot into his crown jewels, as per Grace's request.

"Ah you little shit,"

he grunted, falling to his knees with the pain, dragging you down with him as he pushed you onto your elbows and knees, his own body caging you to the mat as he breathed heavily against your ear.

"Looks like you're mine,"

his husky voice graced your ears making a poorly suppressed shiver wrack your body, able to feel his body heat so well through your back, it was driving you crazy. Instead of squirming out of his hold you dropped limp against the mat in submission, turning your head to the side to meet his eyes.

"you're heavy,"

you moaned in aggravation, wondering why he still had you pinned to the floor. At your words he removed himself swiftly, sitting back on his knees with a groan, but before he could rise to standing, you had spun into a crouching position, launching yourself at the Colonel to throw him off balance, falling back onto his ass with a grunt. You bounced into a straddling position before sliding your hips to lean against his chest, pinning all your weight into one arm pressed against his neck as you shuffled around to keep your balance. What you didn't expect was one large hand flying to your hip, gripping it like a vice as Quaritch closed his eyes in pain.

"Jesus Christ, stop moving Y/N,"

he all but groaned making your face heat up, suddenly aware of the intimate position, especially when his fingers began to rub slow circles on your hipbone, as if to calm himself. Once opened, his eyes were lazy as they watched you, settling on your face but flicking down to where you sat on his hips once or twice.

"Not that I mind, but you planning on sitting there all day?"

Quaritch smirked, both hands now resting either side of your hips as you sat up, frozen in place by his unwavering stare. Snapping out of your daze quickly, you scrambled out of his lap, heat now throbbing in your body at his suggestive words.

"Oh no you don't."

You heard a voice ring out before you were, once again, pinned to the floor, this time on your back, with the colonel above you, his elbows resting either side of your face as he leaned down to whisper against your ear.

"I think this means I win Darlin',"

his voice, his body, his lips brushing your earlobe, it was all too much for you and you turned your head away from him letting out a pitiful whine as your core throbbed, begging for attention.

"What was that baby? I couldn't quite hear you,"

his voice was strained, now directed against your neck as his lips ghosted your skin, letting them press a few gentle kisses here and there on his journey to your shoulder. You really couldn't help the way your back arched against him desperately or the feeble noises that escaped your mouth.

"Colonel, stop,"

you panted, one arm coming up to grip his back, tugging him in hopes he'd press himself closer.

"Stop?"

He spoke surprised, pulling off of you almost completely as he took in your blushing form, it almost made him laugh how quickly you'd submitted to him in spite of your fighting talk.

"Hmh stop teasing me,"

you whispered in embarrassment, arms coming to cling at the sides of his tank top as you eyed him needily. At your words Quaritch ground himself a little into you, making a moan slip past your lips as he leaned back over, kissing along your jaw and sucking at your pulse causing your breath to hitch, hands still clamped around his shirt.

"Oh I'd never tease you baby,"

The Colonel cooed, pulling back swiftly to yank off his tank, contrary to his words, watching the way that your eyes raked across his naked torso with pride, before reattaching to your neck, teeth grazing your skin occasionally as you writhed in his hold. The tension of the situation was becoming too much for you to bear when you brought your hands up to his silver hair, running your nails across his scalp, pulling a groan from his own lips.

"Then kiss me,"

you breathed, tugging his hair to pull him from her chest, wanting to look at his handsome features once more. Those stormy blue eyes pierced into you as you admired him. You'd never admit it but those scars that marred his face made you so much wetter. You reached a hand to run against the raised lines through his hair, his intense gaze never faltering.

"Yes ma'am,"

a whisper of a laugh left him before he leant down to capture your lips in his, the shock of the sensation making you moan before his mouth began to massage your own. You were lost in the feeling of him and once he slipped his tongue through your lips, you knew you were done for, the warm muscle licking softly into your mouth as his hands gripped your hips, rolling them against his own. You were thankful that your wanton moans were muffled by his mouth as you crumbled against him, one leg wrapping around his waist to pull him closer as you ran your fingers through his short hair.

"Easy girl, you do that and I can't guarantee I won't fuck you right here."

He grunted, landing a soft spank to your thigh, but you were well passed self respect.

"Hm please, please, I can't take it,"

you whined, drunk on the pleasure Quaritch was giving you.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy,"

he groaned in frustration tipping his head back.

"You want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could see you, such a fucking whore baby,"

he snarled, pulling at his belt to open the clasp, his words made you whimper though, worried you might be acting too desperate.

"com'ere,"

he spoke, more softly this time at your forlorn face, pressing a kiss to your lips as he fiddled with the button of his trousers, unzipping the fly and pulling out his half hard cock before stroking it in front of your wide eyes to bring it to full mast. It was thick and pink at the tip, leaking a little precum causing squelching noises to reverberate around the empty room as his hand continued its ministrations. Seeing your still form he leant back over you, slipping his fingers under the waistband of your shorts as his eyes met yours.

"You okay? we can stop if you want to,"

He voiced a little worriedly in response to your wide eyed gaze.

"No, don't stop, please,"

you protested, wiggling out of your gym shorts in a hurry, desperate to feel him inside of you at long last. He reached his fingers down, pulling your underwear to the side, slowly easing in one thick digit which you sucked in eagerly causing him to breathe sharply.

"Fuck so wet for me already, you're really clamping down on me there honey,"

he groaned, eyes locked onto your sex, wiggling in a second finger quickly before pumping it a few times, the feeling having you seeing stars, especially when he curled his fingers a certain way that had you writhing on the floor and calling out for him.

"I think you're ready baby,"

he grunted, lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing the head in swiftly, despite the discomfort it was causing you.

"Shit, you gotta ease up baby I can't move,"

he choked out, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked up to the ceiling as if in need of guidance.

"Mmm Colonel, feels good, keep going,"

you encouraged, pushing your own hips forward to ease him in further causing him to grunt and fall to his elbows.

"Fuck keep still for a minute,"

he gasped, tapping your hip at the instruction before gripping your thigh and hoisting one leg over his shoulder. You laid still, getting used to the stretch, although, feeling a little embarrassed now laid out bare in the RDA gym with your Colonel's cock half inside you.

"You ready?"

He huffed finally, icy eyes meeting yours with a predatory gaze.

"Yes sir,"

you grinned, liking how easy it was to rile him up and at that comment his hips snapped completely to the hilt until he was fully breached, the length almost touching your cervix, a low moan rumbling from your throat in response, it felt like he was almost in your airways.

"Always knew you were a little minx, just wanted someone to punish you properly didn't you?"

He growled, setting a ferocious pace that had you sliding back with the force, hands grappling behind you for the non existent bed-post.

"Only you sir, just wanted you to punish me,"

you cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, back arching up into him with every hit to that certain spot inside of you.

"Yeah, it's just for me isn't it, my little whore,"

he groaned a reply, his thrusts becoming impossibly rougher as he caught your clawing hands in his own, bringing them to his back, allowing you to rake your nails into his skin as you endlessly searched for something to ground your against the way he was fucking you dumb.

Neither of you bothered keep down the noises of your sinful actions, both too lost in the pleasure of one another to even care.

"Colonel, I'm gonna, I need,"

you babbled, unable to even form a coherent sentence when you felt the pressure build up inside you from the way his cock was massaging your insides so nicely.

"Be a good girl and come for your Colonel then,"

he grunted, reaching down to rub circles over your clit, making you squeal, locking your leg around his shoulder as you shuddered, the dam inside you bursting as you gripped onto him tightly.

"That's it, shit, good girl, come all over my cock,"

he cooed, his hips stuttering in time with the fluttering of your walls.

"So tight, gripping me like a vice darlin',"

he groaned, punching three more hard thrusts into your slick cunt before he spilled his load inside you, calling out your name as he did it, the spurts of hot cum painting your walls as his, causing you to moan out hoarsely as you held on to him for dear life.

You were both completely spent, Quaritch pulling out quickly before he collapsed onto to the floor beside you, panting from the exertion of your activities.

"Com'ere baby,"

he muttered, tugging you into his side, strong arms wrapping around your waist, face nuzzling your hair whilst you lay on his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his steady heartbeats, drawing patterns aimlessly on his abdomen, neither of you caring about your incriminating positions.

"Mm, Colonel"

you mumbled into his sternum, eyes fluttering closed in exhaustion, causing a lazy chuckle to arise from above you.

"You all fucked out sweetheart?"

His unscrupulous expression and tilting head never failing to rile you up when he wore that same cunning grin, even if he was right.

"Not like you're any better,"

you grumbled, huffing childishly in annoyance.

"Yeah, I gotta admit you're right on that one, you're a fiery little thing aren't you."

He swatted your ass as he spoke, causing a delighted smile to grace your own lips this time.

"Gave me the battle scars to show for it and everything,"

he continued, eyes trained on his stomach causing you to follow his gaze in confusion before you spied the bright red claw marks littering his skin, dragging all the way down from his shoulders to his hips and you could only imagine the kind damage his back had taken. The sight made a possessive feeling well up in your chest, especially at the thought of someone else seeing them, knowing that he'd fucked you so good. He watched intently as your eyes widened in shock before a smirk settled on your face, fingers tracing the welts on his skin gently.

"Those might be a bit more of a pain to hide though,"

he mused, bringing you out of your thoughts as a singular finger dragged along your neck and shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

You asked dumbly, only when you pulled your shoulder up to your eyes did you become aware of the dark purple blotches he had left, one being shaped suspiciously like the indentation of teeth, making you glower in mock anger.

"Don't act like you weren't the one begging me to rail you darlin',"

he sent you a self-satisfied smirk making you scoff, unable to reply with more than a meagre,

"asshole,"

as you both lay there in comfortable silence, too worn out to make any move to redress or make yourselves look at least a little presentable, that was until you heard the sounds of footsteps readily approaching the gym hall along with the muffled voices of soldiers.

"Shit,"

you exclaimed, scrambling for your shorts thrown halfway across the room as Quaritch too pulled on his shirt, urgently zipping himself back into his cammies, wide eyes meeting yours.

"Oh hey, Colonel...."

Lyle spoke as he and Z-dog stopped in their tracks, taking in your dishevelled appearances and awkward demeanor as you stood about a foot apart

"Y/N?"

His voice rose up when he said your name, as if he were questioning your presence as Z-dog let out an undignified snort from behind him. You knew it wouldn't take a genius to figure out the kind of training you and the Colonel had been doing wasn't exactly RDA standard, only to be further confirmed when you felt the slow dripping of warm liquid from between your thighs and onto the floor below, hurriedly crossing your legs in shame, why the hell did you let him come inside you in the first place?

Luckily, the Colonel's audaciousness saved you any further embarrassment, marching up to his soldiers he barked,

"This gym is occupied for assessments, go train somewhere else and make it quick,"

practically herding them out of the door and slamming it shut behind them before striding back over to your paled form.

"You alright Y/N?"

He placed one hand on your lower back, crouching slightly to meet your eyes with a look of sincerity.

"Fucking hell, do you think they know?"

"Hah, you mean do I think they spotted my cum dripping down your legs? Not sure baby but I sure did,"

he pushed your crossed thighs apart, eyes glowing with amusement at the sight.

"Such a good girl taking your Colonel's cum like that,"

he teased, pulling you closer to his chest before tilting your chin with his fingers, refusing to look away from your wide eyes.

"Don't you dare call me that around other people,"

you glowered, lips brushing his when you spoke.

"Wouldn't dream of it darlin',"

he replied in his gruff tone, pressing a tender kiss to your lips that almost had your knees buckling all over again.

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

"Well I don't know what in the hell kind of voodoo you pulled but Quaritch is allowing you to go on the upcoming mission, no delays, even said he was impressed by your stamina!"

Grace emoted with a cigarette in hand, not fully understanding the sentiment of his words, oh but you did, blushing deeply at the memory.

"Wow, who'd have thought,"

you barely squeaked out as you fiddled haphazardly with the test tubes in front of your hands.

"Knew I could count on you to take him by the balls Y/N,"

she nodded, slapping your back gratefully, spurring a coughing fit from you, mind flicking back to your most recent encounter with the colonel which had you on your knees for him obediently beneath his desk.

"Yep, always happy to,"

you stuttered out, causing Grace to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Huh?"

"I mean, no aha, just, doing my duty,"

you clumsily filled the silence, not missing the look of surprise held by Grace which she quickly pushed away, taking another drag to distract herself from your strange behaviour.

"Right..."

end

Taglist:

@ab-haya

@isabellekenway

@mechformers

@lvangel98

@htnw004

@jayedillon

@violet-19999

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@holysaladapricothero

@misscaller06

@fanboyluvr

@forestcottage

#miles quaritch smut #human miles quaritch #avatar fanfiction #james cameron #stephen lang #miles quaritch fluff #miles quaritch x reader #avatar miles quaritch

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theactualsunshinechild · 6 months

Text

I have this incredibly specific WrioChi scenario rotating around in my head that I have to throw out there before it drives me insane. Imagine the following:

Childe seeing Wriothesley walking out of his office, calling out to him, and leaping right off the second floor of the administrative zone at him, and Wriothesley panicking and dropping everything in his arms to catch him and then reprimanding him to "Stop DOING that, you brat!!!" And Childe is just like "but it's fun and you always catch me!"

"I should let you drop," Wriothesley grumbles, though his hold doesn't loosen. If anything, Childe feels his grip tighten slightly as the redhead pretends to contemplate the possibility.

"Mmmm..." he hums thoughtfully, "well, I guess I'll have to hope I land on my feet!" The shrug that follows gets the Duke's brows to twitch lightly on his otherwise stone cold expression.

"You'll break your legs from that height." His grip tightens again. Childe grins. He knows this of course. Vision users have tougher bodies, so he'd have to land wrong, but breaking a bone was a very real possibility. However, he'd heal it off relatively quickly, especially compared to the havoc his Foul Legacy wreaks upon his body, and it was a risk he was willing to take. Not only did Childe have plenty of trust in his own body's capabilities and expertise in executing dangerous drops and cushioning rolls safely, but:

"You will never let that happen." Childe's confident reply echoes in the nonexistent space between them, reverberating through Wriothesley's bones.

"I just told you, I will let you fall," Wriothesley scowls down at him. His grip is a little painful, but his voiced threat is rendered ineffective against Childe, who smiles, softer this time, the sharp teasing corners tempered by the concern that was pacing a visible hole through the frost of the other's gaze.

"You told me you should, Your Grace, but your eyes say you won't." For a second those same eyes widen at his words, and Childe knows he hit the nail on the head. He grins in delight as Wriothesley averts his gaze silently, confirming it further.

For a man who was once meant to keep him captive and kept so many secrets, the Warden was a terribly easy man to trust in.

Childe was never a fan of... relying on others. It wasn't really in his playbook, couldn't be, with the kind of profession he was in, the coworkers he worked with. Physically, letting any part of his plans fall on anyone else's shoulders always came with a threat of failure and fatality. Emotionally, the idea of letting people close to him, like his family, in on his worries was even more devastating. Frankly, letting anyone else into his heart and head was always going to be out of the question. Or so he thought.

The Traveler, was one such newcomer into Childe's limited circle. And when they both found themselves in Fontaine once again for one reason or another, the Traveler, ever the networking expert, introduced him to Wriothesley over a cup of the Duke's fine tea. Introduced was, admittedly, a strong word for a situation in which Wriothesley already had his name, family's names, occupation, and detailed criminal record on file. It was a jarring experience to say the least, to have a complete stranger ask after the well-being of his siblings, but at the end of the day, he could finally put a face to the grand title he had heard so many times during his stint in the prison. Even with the amount of reverence people spoke of their Duke with, Childe had been unprepared for the kind of person he really was in the flesh.

Shrewd and cautious, stomping out problems quickly and efficiently. Polite and charismatic, yet tangibly dangerous and unafraid to resort to brutality when his hand was forced. Wriothesley was nothing if not reliable; he protected his values and people with a steadfast viciousness that Childe recognized intimately -- an indomitable, resolute determination that matched his own.

It seemed like there was nothing thrown his way that Wriothesley couldn't handle, and Childe couldn't help but want to test the limits. Posing himself as the world's most difficult problem to solve was an endeavor that came quite naturally to the Harbinger, but perhaps it was Childe's limits that had truly been tested.

Wriothesley had stepped up to the challenge before him and, while neither had expected to tumble into bed together in the process, it had not been unwelcome. Under the Duke's attentive gaze and steady hands Childe found himself being taken apart piece by piece and reconstructed into a version of himself that felt lighter somehow. It was months later that Childe lay awake with the realization that the lightness came with the missing pieces, the shards of his long-fragmented heart that Wriothesley gently pried out from his scars and bones and swallowed down diligently to keep them safe inside himself. And yet, Childe had never felt more whole.

He had come to trust Wriothesley to a degree he could have never even imagined. It was... less frightening than it should have been to have someone hold his heart this way. To have someone he felt so completely safe with. Childe knew that on a physical level he was the overall stronger fighter from their spars, but this did not take away from the serene sense of security Wriothesley's presence gave him. To put it simply, Wriothesley was someone he found himself comfortable with. He was someone who did not judge him at face value, but rather worked to understand his behaviors on a level Childe could never recall anyone bothering to do. Even now, it felt as though the other had already figured out Childe's motivations on a deeper level than Childe himself.

The Duke looks at him again, this time his eyes alight with a streak of mischief that makes Childe's pulse skip a beat in anticipation.

"...Tell you what, if you stop throwing yourself off the mezzanines, I'll reward you."

"A reward from the Duke himself? Must be quite generous!~" Childe fishes coyly for any further information with a lash lidded look and his fingers playing with Wriothesley's tie. The wolfish grin the Duke gives him in response sends a spark flickering down his spine. Wriothesley sets him down, one hand settling familiarly on his hip as the other comes up to tilt his chin up to hold his gaze.

"You'll have to find out, won't you? Although you can rest assured I am a firm believer in paying people what they are owed." Wriothesley's eyes glitter with promise, keeping Childe's breath hostage in the back of his throat. No precise details, huh? Well, Childe is a curious man by nature, so this suits him just fine; the intrigue adds to the fun of it all.

"I'll take you up on that then, Your Grace. I'll make sure to be a good boy for the duration of this visit, and we'll see if your reward is satisfactory enough for me to behave next time, " he teases lightly, and Wriothesley huffs a sharp chuckle of amusement through his nose, giving Childe's hip an affectionate squeeze of agreement before letting go to go pick up what he had dropped earlier to catch him.

Childe missed his touch already.

#genshin impact #wriothesley #childe #tartaglia #wriochi #Wriothesley x Childe #oops that was like half of a fanfic #oh well #i just need it out of my brain #i would have preferred to draw a comic but i don't have the time #so take this for now #a bit more Childe centric than intended #but that's fine

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astrobolical · 1 year

Text

When he realizes it's love-

Content Warnings: Mild Angst (It's Xiao), brief mentions of battles, brief mention of wounds (nothing depicted)

Reader: Female

I wanted to do something soft for Xiao, while still trying to maintain that adamant determination he has that he doesn't deserve anything nice (seriously buddy, you do).

As a previous Xiao main, I hope I did him justice.

Xiao felt his body ache as he dealt the final blow to his foes, their pained cries falling upon deaf ears as the Adeptus carefully surveyed his surroundings one more time. There was no further movement in the plains of Liyue, no monsters lurking in the darkened, shadowy corners of the night. He had done his duty as he always did, despite the protest of his body and how heavy his spear felt in his hand. He would never speak of the weight bearing down on him from all sides, of the suffocating pressure of his Karmic Debt-- it was his, and only his, to bear.

On nights like this, however, Xiao felt an urge bubble up within his chest. One that had been growing more familiar as the nights passed him by. Suddenly the blur of days beginning and ending had seemed to slow. The morning sun warmed him in ways he’d forgotten it could over the long, lonely centuries.

In those moments when the morning light warmed his skin he felt as if something he’d forgotten was returning to him. It startled him, admittedly, the warmth blooming in his chest. How his mind would wander in his sparse moments of freedom to a singular human woman-- you. Xiao hated himself for it, endangering you for some selfish whim, an impulse he struggled to reign in. But since he’d met you, things had changed. Slowly at first, sure, but over time it was undeniable that somehow the weight on his body had lessened.

He came to find himself searching for you, even if he dared not approach again of his own accord. Simply the sight of your smile in the crowd, knowing you were safe and sound eased the darkness in his heart.

But when you would call, Xiao would move before his mind could think. The melodic tone of your voice is a spell he dare not break, a desire he could scarcely allow himself to indulge in. In these moments, he’d come to you, he’d ignore the distance he’d put between the two of you and allow you as close as you would come. His warnings never made you hesitate, when he’d chastise you for coming to find him you’d simply grace him with your laugh.

When he asked you why you’d rolled your eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sitting on the grassy plains, he remembers how you laid back, staring up at the clear blue skies above. Reaching up as though you could grasp it in your small hand. “Because no one deserves to be alone.” You’d said, softly yet determined, looking over in his direction.

He’d come to recall that day, over and over in the night. How the light had danced across your skin, how carefree you’d been, how vulnerable.

‘No one deserves… to be alone?’ He wondered, eyes wandering towards the pale, silvery moon above. Subconsciously he reached towards it, until it appeared like he could grasp it in his hand. A mirror of your innocence, an attempt to understand. Golden eyes closed as he let out a sigh, the cool breeze against his skin.

And then he was moving, a blur against the night, yet footsteps silent. His mind was loud, racing, a mix of protests and reasoning. But his feet found the sturdy support of a too-familiar tree, the sight of your home silencing his echoing thoughts for just a moment.

Once again, he’d run to you. Without your call, without rhyme or reason.

You were there, sitting in the quiet night, sleepily reading in the dim lights by the window. Your eyes drifting closed only to fight back open, your chin lazily resting on your palm, propping yourself up. You looked so peaceful that Xiao debated turning back around, returning to the fields and finding whatever creature he could-- he’d destroy anything to keep your peace. But tonight he let out a shaky breath, he pushed his reluctance deeper down, pushed those worries and fears as far down as he could manage.

For the first time, Xiao took a step towards you.

“Y/N.” He spoke, barely a whisper, but it carried through the open window and you startled, jumping in your seat as your head whipped towards him. Your wide eyes met his own, and he was overcome with a blooming warmth as your brief terror melted immediately into the smile he’d grown to crave. You didn’t react with reverence or fear, instead you stood, rushing to your door to greet him.

“Xiao!” Your voice speaking his name made that warmth bloom further, moving throughout his tired body, reinvigorating his muscles into movement as you approached, meeting you halfway between your door and the window. “Are you okay?” Your eyes searched his form as he nodded-- now that he was before you he felt as though there were no words he could form. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You motioned for him to follow, but seeing his tired gaze, his slow response, you frowned. You reached out, tentatively touching his hand with yours. Xiao didn’t pull away, simply stared at where the two of you had connected-- such an innocent touch, so pure, so simple. So kind. You didn’t see him as a weapon, a tool to protect. You saw him as Xiao.

It hit him then, as your small hand grasped his, leading him towards your abode, it struck his heart in a way he’d never experienced before-- you saw him.

Every instinct told him to vanish back into the night, flee from the soft warmth spreading between your bodies where they met. This was wrong, he was dangerous-- just by being near you he was risking you. Yet when you turned, guiding him to sit in front of the small fireplace in your home, he didn’t resist. “You can rest here, Xiao. You’re safe here.” You smiled, before moving to walk away-- he didn’t know where, or why-- but you didn’t make it far. His hand reached out and grasped your wrist-- a ghost of a touch, but enough to make you pause.

Your wide eyes, your red tinted cheeks, it was nearly too much for the Adeptus to bear.

“Stay.” He breathed. He didn’t need anything else-- he, perhaps, was not entirely sure why, but he merely wanted your company. He’d come this far, against his better judgment. Just a moment, a fleeting moment… he could allow himself that, couldn’t he? The centuries of bloodshed and pain… surely they could amount to such a small moment.

“Of course…” You seemed embarrassed at his request, sitting beside him, merely a breath away from him. You held his hand, your gaze settled where he’d grabbed you.

It was the first time he’d touched you.

It meant that much to you?

Perhaps he couldn’t understand fully what you felt, he was still learning to comprehend the vast array of human emotions.

You remained quiet, enjoying the peaceful moment so late in the night, unperturbed by your unexpected guest. You didn’t suggest he sleep, or rest, or eat… you let him be.

You let him be, and he wanted to be with you.

Xiao inhaled sharply at the dangerous thought, though caught himself before he could worry you. He nearly pulled away, nearly fled at the very thought he wanted to remain by your side as long as he could. Selfishly putting you at unnecessary risk because he was tired.

“Xiao?” Your curious voice dragged him from his thoughts, and his gaze snapped to yours just a little too quickly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You didn’t need to worry-- you had no idea how much you affected the Adeptus with your very presence. Had no idea the hold you had on him. Xiao sighed, looking away from you as he spoke. “Thank you for allowing me in.”

You were silent for a moment. “Anytime, Xiao. You’re always welcome here.”

The two of you sat in peace, listening to the crackling fire. Xiao felt light, as though his body wasn’t covered in wounds, like he wasn’t weighed down by the crushing pressures of his sins. He felt safe, for the first time in centuries.

In that moment he knew, he knew as he gripped your hand a little tighter. As you finally gave way to sleep, your head resting on his shoulder. When he didn’t move away, instead gazing softly at your sleeping form.

He knew, deep down, that he would protect you over anything else. Xiao was certain of what the warmth within his chest was, how you could alleviate his pain just with your presence.

He knew that he’d crossed a line that he’d never dared to think of. Something he didn’t deserve, something he shouldn’t allow himself to have… but perhaps, just for tonight, he could remain by your side for just a little longer.

You.

The human he loved.

#~Take Time to Relax #Xiao #Genshin Impact #Xiao x Reader #Xiao fluff #seriously he needs some love and affection in his life #it was really hard to not let myself make his banner quote his snow one #Once the snow is thick enough #we can eat it #xiao imagine #Xiao comfort #you are Xiao’s safe place

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jumpingjoltiks · 8 months

Text

Some thoughts about Chandelure Hybrid!Ingo x GN!Reader

Below the cut for length. Fluff in the first half. NSFT will be past the divide halfway through. Specific warnings for that portion will be there.

Ingo usually floats a half inch or so above the floor. It feels natural for him to float, but he knows most humans find it uncomfortable, so he compromises.

Music, and especially dancing is a big part of Chandelure hybrid culture.

He would looove to dance with you

The "courting" dances of chandelure hybrids typically come in two flavors-

Upbeat and bouncy: These dances can be both platonic or romantic. Samba, Swing, and Foxtrot are all common.

They're mostly just meant to be fun, and to encourage compatibility and cooperation.

Because they aren't necessarily romantic, this kind of dance can be used to "test the waters" of a relationship without any expectation, sort of like subtly flirting.

Ingo is especially playful during these dances. He'll swing with you about and around until you're both falling into each others arms and giddy laughing so hard you can't stop. He feels like this is right where he belongs when he's dancing with you.

Romantic dances are slower and more serious, like a waltz, tango, or bachata.

The steely fire in his eyes when you dance a waltz with him sends shivers of excitement down your spine. You get the feeling he's looking right into your soul - and maybe he is!

He's an exceptionally graceful dancer. When you move together, the whole world fades away until its just the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Ingo is always warm, but he tempers his flames when you're near so you don't burn up.

He's your personal space heater. Cuddles after a winter walk are so so very warm and cozy! He likes to be near your heart because it's the closest he can get to feeling your spirit. Listening to your heartbeat is very soothing.

Hide under his coat for extra warm snuggles when Gear Station gets chilly!

Be prepared. Litwicks naturally flock to him so you might have a small gaggle that shows up from time to time.

He'll be over the moon if you show them affection. He loves to see them. It makes him think about having a family one day.

Nsft below this point. Warnings for: Massaging, temperature play, warm oils, wax play, non-penetrative sex, and one (1) singular spank

Those firm hands run over your arms, down your back and legs, massaging a warm and musky, floral-scented oil into your muscles.

His hands are big and firm, calloused from hard work and pokemon training, and they feel so nice along the sides of your body, kneading into your muscles and rubbing out the tension that builds up each day.

By the time he's done, you're relaxed and pliant in his arms, ready to melt away for him.

The scent is so relaxing - and he likes smelling it on you after. It's a nice memory of being together (it also helps others of his kind know you're taken)

On tamer nights, he'll slide in behind you and run his hand down your body, between your legs, and rub you so gently until you release in the softest orgasm of your life, the world fading to a mist of white - leaving only you and him.

When you look up at him with those eyes, still hazy from orgasm but so full of adoration, he falls even deeper in love with you.

He loves wax play, though that's an admittedly more common kink among chandelure hybrids.

He's always very careful with material choice and temperature. Unlike fire-type hybrids, humans can't have wax too hot without getting hurt.

Ingo is very choosy with his candles - he likes those with extra smooth wax that he can run his fingers through.

It looks so pretty, dripping onto your skin in all those colors. He likes to observe the patterns it makes on you. He especially likes the red marks it leaves once its all over.

He loves to make trails of wax that his hands or tongue will dutifully follow.

The heat is nice, but never too overwhelming unless you want it to be. Because he's a fire type, he has some control over how warm it burns.

Each drop that hits your skin stings with a hot flash of pain that feels so nice. The heat radiates against your skin, lingering even as the wax cools.

It seems to pierce right through you, sending waves of heat straight down to your core.

If you think you're done once the candle is gone, you're wrong. He can remelt the wax with just a touch, sending rivulets down your bare chest and stomach.

Better still down over the curve of your ass, where he'll give your round cheeks a firm smack to shatter them.

As it cools on your skin, he'll blow on it to send shivers up your body. If your back isn't arching and you're not shaking from just his breath on you, he won't be satisfied.

Checks in with you periodically throughout to make sure you're doing okay.

"Is it too hot, my dear? Does it feel nice? Tell me where you want me to drip it..."

After your session is done, count on him to take care of you. He'll peel away any remaining wax, offer you a soothing shower or bath, and smooth healing aloe and lotions over your skin. He wants you to be in good shape for next time, after all.

#Was this an excuse to write wax play with Ingo? Maybe. Am I ashamed about that? Not a bit.#ingo #gear station after dark #ingo x reader #submas x reader #x reader #my writing #pokemon ingo x reader #chandelure hybrid ingo #chandelure hybrid au #hybrid au

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lovesickry · 11 months

Text

- the devil is in the details.

┈⋆⭒ daniel ricciardo x fem!reader [1.4k] ┈⋆⭒ part 3 !

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ find all parts here!! .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contents: bad flashbacks, smut, oral .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: young danny is um yeah, more flashbacks, this is much earlier than like the kind of history in the other parts. anyway. im silly etc;

6 years ago: december 2011. perth, australia

he was hot and heavy in your mouth, aching and red. his hand was tangled in your hair and you’d been shoved by him into a closet so your parents wouldn’t hear him. he was loud. he was young and admittedly, this was his first blowjob.

you recall this memory with slight taboo, not at all knowing what brought on this spontaneous act of “friendship” other than briefly recalling when daniel said that he’d never let a girl suck him off before. not even knowing if it was still true, but still continuing as though it was.

you’d remembered secretly maybe even wanting to and so when your mum went over to visit grace and asked if you’d tag along, naturally, you accepted. you were different then, he was different then.

you’d posed the question almost like a joke at first but then bordered into more of a “one time offer thing”, he was weary then, afraid to hurt you. to hurt the friendship you’d built, but before anybody knew he was crowding you against a wall, kissing you, feeling you. tasting you, and you slowly moving down to look up at him. god he’d loved the sight, he was so noisy, so whiny, couldn’t be quiet for more than a second. much like how he was normally. his eyes hooded as he looked down at you, your eyes big and bright looking up at him. you paid attention to every part of him. something you’ve always done. you’d licked and kissed and caressed all of him, leaving him squirming and wanting, and once you finally took him into your mouth.

“fuckkkkk” he drawled.

you hummed in response, you knew.

your nails dug into the back of his thighs when he started moving his hips, wanting more. you pulled off of him.

“we have to be quiet” you said a slight smile.

god his face then, you wanted to take a photo, eyebrows drawn in, nearly in anguish at the sudden loss of contact.

“yeah i know, hm sorry” so fucking needy for anything.

“shhhhh” you teased and went back to what you were doing. it was all becoming too much, he was bucking and squirming and tugging at your hair, you were so good and he couldn’t do it.

“i’m gonna- fuck” he stuttered, you knew what he was saying.

you looked at him, nodding. accepting it, going faster.

he came in your mouth, hot and fast, and you had to get his hand out of your hair to remind him to be quiet. he came with his hand over his mouth and his other hand on the back of your head. holding you there for a bit, supporting you.

he was shaking a bit, thighs pulsing slightly as you pulled his shorts back up on your way off your knees. he was panting, looking at you, flushed. he let his head fall back and hit the wall, while you looked at him. he looked so good like that. perfect and happy and spent.

“feel good?” you prompt, slightly sarcastically, knowing the answer.

“heh fuck off” he says, inbetween breaths.

“hmmmmmmm sure” you say, leaning your head down onto the top his chest, your head rising with every breath he took, his hand playing with the strands of your hair around your face. his other hand resting gently on the small dip of your waist. running small circles on the patch of exposed skin there. he was about to reciprocate, about to show you just how good you made him feel and give it all back, he was ready to worship you, to make you beg and plead, but you both jumped at the sudden-

“DYLAN WHERE ARE YOU?” your dear mother.

your eyes widen when your head snaps up at him.

“shit”

you free yourself from his embrace, and open the closet door, stepping out into his bedroom.

“wait dylan um i go back to europe next week, can i see you before then?”

(you never did see him before then.)

your scrambling to find the bag you brought.

“uh yeah, sure, text me”

you find your bag, swing it over your shoulder, he looks so sad, standing in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the floor, you walk over and give him a kiss, just a light one, on the jaw, tilting your face only slightly and then stepping back.

“bye danny”

you walk out and shut his door, meeting your mum at the car, her mumbling mindlessly about what you and daniel had gotten up to.

*********** *********** *********** *********** ********

present day:

(1) new message from “daniel ricciardo”

1:56pm

sureeeeeee.

you hated him, you turn off your phone and start packing your suitcase, this would be your last night staying here, leaving for mercedes in the morning and then catching your flight back to aus. you turn on the tv for some mindless watching, one of those fun, cute german cartoons that they have one, playing in the back as you roll and fold your clothes. getting daniel out of your head, because you just got the job you’ve wanted forever and he can’t do anything about it. you call grace once you zip up your bag and you talk for hours, you tell her the newfound interest that daniel suddenly has in your whereabouts and your career and she’s just as shocked as you are.

you leave the hotel at 3:45pm and catch a taxi to the mercedes headquarters, feeling much more at ease than your first trip there. you get your uniform and your paddock pass and the job expectations, you ask if there’s anything you should review before the season starts. the man gives you a folder containing the performance of the car over the last five races for review and also the numbers and contacts of the other race engineers to get into contact with. it’s December and there’s work to be done before the season starts up again and that excites you, the work the absorption. what didn’t excited you was the inevitable, “hey so while we were running your backround check we found out you were friends with daniel ricciardo, talk us through how this won’t be a liability or conflict of interest” but you’d handled it okay-ish. you stopped at the hotel one last time to pick up your bags and then caught an uber to the airport, relieved to be going home, you lived in melbourne, but you’d grown up in perth, moving to melbourne to study, grace came with you and she’d been your rock, for lack of a better word, she’d been just what you wanted and you guys bounced off eachother, although doing completely different degrees, you doing aerospace engineering and her doing english.

you guys talked about everything and she knew all about daniel and yours history. your apartment in melbourne was quaint, for lack of a better word. it was home and you loved it as such, and upon returning home you dove into your work, spending most of all your free time the leading weeks to the beginning of the season reviewing prior car performance and prior driver performance.

you were assigned to valterri bottas. he was nice and consistent in performance, you couldn’t hope for a more authentic driver on the grid. you spent your days reviewing work and watching tv and catching up on your reading, you hadn’t done much in a while and you wanted to get back the certain passion you had for poetry when you were at uni. you had even started going on runs as a kind of de-stresser, going for runs in the late afternoon, getting home and reading your book. it was peace and it was routine you loved it.

but everyone so often, you’d get drifts of him in your head, vague memories of his touch. lying in bed, remembering how his hands felt wrapped around you, how his breath felt against your neck, you’d missed the warmth he surrounded you in, these “visions” eventually going away, but they left you with a longing you couldn’t shake, one that sunk itself deep down and threatened to warm your core. you’d still not communicated with him past the “i won’t be looking at you asshole” text and you hadn’t responded to his annoying reply since then, and the race was next week, so it’s not like he would have to wait too long to find out.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 #f1 fic #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #lando norris #formula 1 #f1 2023 #formula one

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heartthumpnovel · 11 months

Text

Heart Thump: Fantasy AU Short

The Cursed Prince

Word count: 3968

This is just a short story I wanted to write up in a AU where the gang are in a fairytale setting. Kinda an offshoot of Rapunzel but with G/t instead. May or may not cont. this depending on the reception and motivation. Thought something different to refresh myself for the canon story.

Part 1 (You are here) Part 2

cw: Implied past abuse

---

One might assume that being held hostage is not only terrifying but also an exhilarating predicament. In tales of old, damsels in distress yearned for freedom and often found romance with the noble hero who saved them in most derivative literature.

However, Jason's firsthand experience proved quite the opposite.

Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that Jason wasn't kidnapped by a fearsome beast, but rather, he was imprisoned by his own father and the individuals who had pledged their allegiance to the Anderheart royal family since his adolescence. The novelty of being confined in a tower forever gradually lost its appeal over time. Fortunately, those who locked him away occasionally sent servants and mages to inform him what era it was, provided they were brave enough to engage in conversation.

The prince wouldn’t consider himself a hostage, far from it.

In fact, he’s the fearsome beast that needed to be locked up.

It all started with a bit of family trouble back when he was a young boy. Not that he would like to remember much of what happened but, what did happen was his own mother cursing her son before she was executed for being a witch.

What horrible curse was he afflicted with? Falling into a deep slumber to be awoken by a kiss, or turning into a swan at a nonspecific lake?

No, that would be far too graceful for the poor prince. Whenever he felt true love or happiness, he would start to double in size when his heart raced. The second his father found out what happened to him, for the safety of the kingdom and to keep a respectful appearance of the royal family, Jason was locked up in a refurbished prisoner tower which was meant to hold powerfully dangerous wizard prisoners.

It wasn't akin to a dismal prison with meager accommodations and chains, considering Jason was still the prince after all. He occupied two entire floors, and all his possessions from his room in the castle were transported here. His extensive collection of books and plants kept him occupied throughout the years. The tower's walls were even enchanted to withstand his uncontrollable growth, ensuring he wouldn’t accidentally destroy his home. Admittedly, it caused him significant pain when that occurred, but Jason believed he deserved it for allowing himself to become such a monstrosity in the first place. The prince preferred not to view his current residence as a prison but rather as a place of self-reformation and eventual liberation from the curse.

Though things on that front were slow going. All kinds of wizards and bishops had given his humble tower a visit to see if they were the ones that could break Jason’s curse. None of them succeeded by even a little bit. The number of people claiming they could fix him dwindled and Jason could hardly remember the last time a magic user tried to break the curse. It didn’t help either, that no parameters were said on the solution to get rid of Jason’s burden. Thinking about this made his stomach drop and he’d rather not focus on his predicament.

While there hasn't been a recent visit from suppliers from the kingdom, Jason wasn’t completely left to his own devices. It would be idiotic to leave a giant shifter to go mad by loneliness. Years ago around the time Jason turned fifteen, he was given a druid attendant to originally help him cure his ailment. This druid attendant was only a mere apprentice and needed experience for her mage training. Of Course she never did help him with the curse, but she did stay to become his closest ally. She even taught him how to nurture plants and they bonded over book series they both really like.

Strangely enough, Jason couldn’t put a finger on why but she wasn’t disgusted by his curse and actually wanted to be friends. Sure she seemed fearful of him at first, though she ended up going past the whole giant thing pretty quickly.

Oh Ellinor, so sweet yet had an awful taste of companions evidently.

Jason longed for her presence, despite knowing that she would return in a month with supplies to ensure he didn't perish from hunger and would provide him with new books to read. Plus it wasn’t like he could force her to stay just because he really wanted someone to talk to. He’d just find things to do to avoid being needy for attention. Surely, given his expertise in enduring captivity for countless moons, he could find ample activities to keep himself busy.

It was only day three and he was already out of books to sink into.

Loneliness began to eat away at him like moths to a nicely crafted sweater. He could feel the holes in his heart widening and just needed to find something to keep him distracted.

The prince finally rose from his silk sheets from his self reflection and quiet sobs, trying to think of ways a damsel like himself could pre-occupy his time. There were moments when he almost wished he were tormented by a captor, as it would afford him someone to converse with, reminiscent of the stories he had read. Gently dabbing his tears with a handkerchief, he took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself.

“Just a couple of weeks Jason, nothing to get all emotional over.” he whispered to himself as he passed by the solitary window that offered a glimpse of the outside world. Pausing, he leaned out of the stone archway, beholding the tranquil forest that surrounded him. Despite being the sole view he had of the outside, it remained a breathtaking sight regardless of the season. The melodic songs of diverse bird species and the presence of adorable, fluffy rodents never failed to bring a smile to his face. If only the creatures weren't frightened of him, he could approach them closely. Oh, how he yearned to run his fingers through the soft fur of an endearing creature. What he’d also wish he could do was to check out the plant life around him when Ellinor isn’t around to help him pick it. Just after Ellinor left Jason just had to notice a fruitful bounty of lavender had decided to grow underneath a willow tree that was right across from his tower. Jason had read of the calming remedy the herb had and heard that it made for an amazing tea. Having something to help calm him wasn’t only useful in his separation anxiety but may help with keeping from getting taller.

His gaze lingered longingly upon the lavender patch, wondering if it would remain in full bloom by the time Ellinor returned—

Wait, who was that?

Jason hadn't anticipated encountering anything other than the usual lavender flowers nestled beneath the willow's branches, but the sight before him was no mere flower. She possessed a beauty as captivating as the very patch she was avidly plucking from. His extraordinary eyesight allowed him a better glimpse of the woman, who had dark skin and neatly braided hair fashioned into a crown. Her clothes seemed nice, though not too nice to be a high class nobel, but he assumed that was because a dress would be problematic in dense woods like these. Jason couldn’t get a better look at her as she was bent down on her knees to hog all of the sweet smelling lavender.

Normally, it would be ill-advised for the prince to engage with passersby outside his tower. More often than not, they were lost bandits or adventurers mistaking him for a trapped princess. Each encounter ended with Ellinor either chasing them away or their retreat in terror upon discovering Jason's true identity. Fools, all of them.

However, this time, Jason realized his precious herbs were at stake, and lavender was not commonly found in the area. The audacity of this beautiful intruder to take what was clearly near his tower, and to claim one of the few things that could have kept him grounded and normal… no, she had to go.

“HEY- YOU THERE. TRESPASSER!” Jason yelled out as he poked his head outside his stone window and held onto the balcony fence. The woman startled as she looked where the yelling was coming from. “YEAH YOU! MISS!”

The woman stood up from her business and the prince could finally see her face. Her skin was definitely glowing and well taken care of so she couldn’t have been a dirty bandit type he usually saw. Perhaps a traveling noble merchant or a mage? Could be a magic user as he noticed how enchanting her eyes were. Wait- Focus Jason!

Just because this flower thief was pretty didn’t mean she had the right to take his precious herbs. Though perhaps he shouldn’t scare the daylights out of her and just tell her to get lost.

As the woman pointed to herself and gave a puppy dog head tilt, Jason went on shouting from his window. “Those lavender flowers are already claimed!” Jason spoke, trying his best to seem authoritative though it was pretty lacking, “and this is private property you’re standing in!”

The woman looked back at the lavender patch silently and then did a double take at the tower. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, instead of leaving his yard, the lady decided the best idea was to walk even closer to the tower. Jason cringed and before he could tell her to back off, the woman cuffed her hands around her mouth and started to yell back.

“I don’t see a garden fence around here!” Shouted the beautiful stranger, “Also no offense, it looked like nobody lived in your dinky tower in centuries! How was I supposed to know!?”

Dinky?! Really? A three story tower is dinky to her? Jason’s fingers gripped on the stone window sill. "Well now you know don't you?!" Shouted back the whiny prince, "so why don't you leave my 'dinky tower' alone?"

Instead of just leaving like he asked, she stood there analyzing the scene before her. "You locked up here or something? Need help out of there?" She responded with a tinge of worry in her voice. Jason only rolled his eyes as he found himself again in this bothersome situation.

"You're not one of those Albion graduate heroes are you?" Jason spoke with his arms crossed, "No I'm perfectly fine thank you very much."

Her worried expression turned into a skeptical one as she still didn't make herself scarce.

"Oh really?" She retorted back with her hands on her hips, "Why don't you come down here to get the damn flowers yourself?"

Jason’s cheeks turned a tomato shade of red as his resolve began to crumble. He sputtered out his explanation.

"I-i can't…" Jason admitted, "I can not leave the tower but, I can assure you I'm perfectly fine."

That beautifully annoying woman smirked before she responded, walking over the tiny bridge that was over a stream, "You're literally in the middle of nowhere trapped in a prisoner tower. That doesn't look fine to me."

Oh by the gods, she's gotten so close to the structure that if Jason were to jump out of the window he'd probably land on her. He didn't need her that close.

"Look who ever you are- it's none of your business and I implore you to move on!" Jason tried to appeal to her, "you won't like what you see here I assure you."

The woman's response to that vague warning was to pat the sword handle at her side with a grin. Jason’s palms started to sweat, knowing she could bolt by the sight of his curse.

"What's keeping you here? Ransom? Dragon? Evil wizard? Your hair?" Natasha asked, her eyes looking at the tower to see where the door was.

Well, it seemed like he had to tell her the truth that nobody wanted to hear. That he was indeed the cursed prince of the Anderheart family. Jason leaned over the edge trying to be as stern as a lanky man could be.

He pointed to himself.

"I am, " Jason said, "I have a curse where I grow into a giant monster and I am kept here to keep the world safe."

That should have done it. Once people found out who he was they would either aim their arrows or run.

So why did she just stand there?

She stared up at the prince with an unreadable look on her face before she started to snicker. She put her hand over her mouth attempting to not break out into laughter. Right as Jason was going to ask what was so funny about his predicament, she answered with giggles.

"Seriously!?" Natasha spoke, "with a cute face like that?!"

Th-thump

Oh no.

Jason felt butterflies lunge in his stomach and that dreaded feeling of glee appeared. It was already too late as he felt the growth spurt suddenly making him several feet taller.

He also felt the stone window frame smack the top of his head.

“ACK!!” Jason yelped as his sudden growth caused him to smack the top of his head, he bent over for a moment to rub the bruise, “Ugh bloody hell that stings- I ugh, told you!” Thankfully he didn’t manage to fall out of the window, though he did also realize he wasn’t hearing screaming either. Jason’s eyebrows furrowed as he bent down to look outside the window once more wondering why he didn’t hear a reaction.

…

She was still standing there.

The woman stood there, eyes widened and definitely looked like she was completely caught off guard. Though she definitely wasn’t reaching for her sword as her arms remained crossed. The shock on her face slowly formed into a confused gaze.

“That’s it?” She spoke.

"What do you mean, 'that's it'!?" Jason exclaimed, his voice inadvertently louder, but he no longer cared. "I'm a bloody monster! You shouldn't be lingering around!" Was he actually feeling a twinge of offense that she didn't appear scared of him? It seemed that the years of isolation had truly taken a toll on the prince.

“I mean yeah you’re a little bit taller but like-” she said, gesturing with her arms, "but this? It doesn't scream 'monster' to me." A warm smile graced the woman's face, indicating she wasn't bluffing, although perhaps she lacked awareness of the potential danger. The 7-foot-tall prince cleared his throat, closing his eyes and crossing his arms in annoyance.

“I could be hundreds of men tall if it weren’t for this tower keeping me in check, you should be afraid. ” Jason coldly explained, truly unsure of this situation and the unknown was clearly making him uncomfortable.

“I mean-” Oh bother, she’s speaking again, “I’ve always had a thing for tall guys.”

Before he could react, his body swelled uncontrollably, leaving him scrambling to retreat into his room to avoid getting his head stuck in the window. His desk and bookshelves toppled over as his legs pushed them aside. Jason's back and head collided with the cold stone walls on the other side of the room. Struggling to catch his breath, he felt his face burning red and realized that his room now felt more like a cramped crate. Grumbling, he blew his bangs out of his face, wondering what he had done to deserve this. The nerve of this intruder!

“Hey you alright in there!?” That sweet little voice yelled.

Taking a deep breath was all the prince could do, as he needed to keep his temper in check. Even if the lady made him lose control, it wasn’t like she was trying to cause harm. A royal like him needs to be gentle and stern when asking for things. Especially if he was big enough to cause harm and he really didn’t want to scare people. Pulling himself forward, Jason mumbled a confirmation that he was fine. He then reached his arm out the window, which was as long as a horse, and pointed towards the willow tree.

“Look miss,” Jason said, “Just leave me be please, you can take the lavender if you want.”

There was silence. A very long one.

Jason pulled his arm back inside and curled up upon the cool prison wall. His fingers gripping opposite elbows as he held back tears. Thinking the situation over in his mind and feeling a deep pit in his stomach.

“Oh you gigantic moron…” Jason murmured to himself, “She just wanted to help and you had to go be a rude brute..” He curled into himself as he became a big sobbing mass in his itty bitty tower. The walls have never felt this closed in since the days where he was first thrown in there. Memories of him being chained up for the first few weeks came to mind and being left to starve as the servants who used to keep him alive were too scared to approach his door. He hadn't talked to anyone those desolate weeks and had to beg to convince his father that he wasn’t meaning to be dangerous. That he hated what he’d become and wanted more than anything to be fixed.

Jason grimaced and fiddled with the gem on his crown. Surely a cure was going to come around soon and he could step outside this tower without fear. At this point Jason didn’t even care about being a ruler or whatever. He just wanted to be happy.

Clank

Jason’s head rose and graced the ceiling, hearing a noise coming from the window that sounded like metal scraping rock. Hanging there over the window sill was a hook that had a rope tied on it. Was she planning on coming up here to slay him for being rude!?

“Hey buddy could you do me a favor and loop that rope through an anchor?” Her voice yelled up casually, “I’m sending a basket up.”

Wait what?

More confusion came to Jason, he wondered why in the world this person wanted to give him something after he yelled at her to leave. The prince crawled forward and desperately patted the ceiling as he searched for that rope hook he used to use during the first few years of his banishment. He hadn't found a need for it lately as Ellinor wasn’t scared coming into the tower. One of his giant fingers brushed against cold metal and he gave it a tug. Dust exploded from the anchor and unfortunately Jason inhaled a lot of it. He coughed harshly and waved a hand around to try to fan the dust outside the window.

The very kind person asked if he was okay and the giant tried to assure her that he’s just fine. Jason fed the rope through the hoop of the anchor and held onto the other end on the rope with one hand. The rope jostled a bit as pressure was added to the other end outside. It wasn’t heavy at all though there was indeed something tied to the other end. Just then there were two brief tugs to the rope and Jason took that as a signal to pull it up.

While it wouldn’t take much effort to pull it up strength wise, he was very slow and methodical with pulling up the basket. He wouldn’t want to accidentally jostle out the mystery contents in the basket. His eyes brightened in surprise when he managed to spot the basket on the other end and nearly dropped it.

It was a small bouquet of lavender.

The smell was just as wonderful as he thought it would be and they looked beautiful up close. His heart began to race once more as he felt his body push the limit of the tower’s allowance. Though he didn’t care about his desk being completely pushed into the wall or that he was completely cramped in his tiny room. Someone gave him a wonderful gift and it brought a huge grin on his face for the first time in a while.

While he wished he would go face her once more to properly say thank you, his head was just a bit too large to fit through the window, so instead he pushed an arm through the window. His index finger and thumb crossed over to the delight of the stranger.

“Uhm- thank you very much Miss… could I please get your name?” Jason asked with him trying to not sound like was crying.

The new friend spoke cheerfully, “Natasha Maryrose, I come from the Solaris Republic not far from here. Could I get yours as well?”

The Solaris Republic? He remembered that that democratic empire had a tense yet amicable relationship with the kingdom he was born to rule in. It seemed their borders were much closer than he initially thought.

“Prince Anderheart,” Said the prince, “Though you can call me Jason, if that's a bit too formal.”

“Oh so you are the cursed prince! Huh..” Natahsa scratched her grin, “Wow the tales about you are seriously bunk.”

“Wh-what tales!?” The giant arm flinched a little, “There’s tales about me!?”

“Heh, I’d say they’re more like rumors or stories that mothers tell their young kids to make them behave.” Natasha confessed as she leaned on the tower’s wall, “I wouldn’t give it too much thought, it’s not like you actually have claws and bake men’s bones into bread. ”

“Oh by the gods…” Jason responded as his arm went limp on the window’s edge, causing a giggle to come from below, “I hardly even speak to those that come around here…”

“I’m special then?” Natasha retorted as she noticed the fingers of the arms twitch, “I could try to help clear your name out here if you want.”

“Oh no no no, “ The arm crawled back into the window as if a snake was finding shelter in its den, “I would appreciate it if you kept me a secret for now, I honestly don’t want people knowing where I am when I’m stuck like this…”

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Natasha responded, “Then your secret is safe with me ya little bone muncher!”

A laugh bellowed from within the tower, it was dainty yet shook the stone walls. Not enough to break them but, one would have thought a keg explosive went off in there.

Perhaps, a kind of emotional keg exploded there that day.

Jason whipped his tears with his other arm and smiled, having the outside arm give a thumbs up before gently grasping the window. Tapping his fingers on the sill as he took a large breath.

“Oh man alive…” Jason spoke, “Could I make another bold request if it’s not too much to ask?”

“Shoot.”

“Could you… pay me a visit sometimes? If-if you want that is. I know we just met and everything but, I-I think you’re really interesting and it gets quite lonely-”

“I’d love to.”

The arm froze in surprise, then melted back onto the window as it hung very low along the tower’s aging stone walls.

“Th-thanks, and I’m very, very sorry for the way I’ve treated you,” Jason began to apologize, “You were just trying to be nice and here I was yelling at you for it- Eh?!”

In the middle of his apology, he didn’t realize that his arm could reach so far down that it was just barely enough for someone to reach their hand out to touch the tip of his middle finger. He felt a silk-soft hand pat his finger, which initially flinched at the touch but let itself be petted. Jason couldn’t make out what Natasha was mumbling about, but, deep down he knew it must have been kind.

Finally, the dreaded cursed prince of the Atlas kingdom and Anderheart monarchy, had made another friend.

#g/t #giant/tiny #size difference #gt writing #heart thump #AU #Cursed Prince #gt #gt community #giant #giant tiny #writing #tiny #fantasy

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