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peachsayshi · 1 month ago

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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x inexperienced female reader (final part) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 9,000+

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰ previous parts: 1/2/3/4/5

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: I can't believe it's been like two years since I started writing this? Here is the final part of the this little mini fic. I don't even want to tell you how long I have had this sitting in my drafts. I've been so back and forth, but finally I just gave in and decided to share what I was originally working on. I got the idea to have them be wedding guests from an anon message, who wanted to see Suguru look at reader in a fancy dress / gown of some sorts. I hope you guys enjoy this final part, and thank you so much for bringing life to this little one shot! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: other jjk characters are mentioned, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; first time; smut; oral (f receiving); nipple play; overstimulation; penetration; lovemaking

Flowers burst in bright pops of color around Suguru. He slips one hand in his suit pocket, the other reaching for the petal of one of the pink flowers on the bush. He caresses his thumb and index finger against the delicate skin, his mind far off to a different place and different point in time. He can hear the crowd chattering, pick up on the sporadic laughs echoing from the joyous conversations. The live band are playing music, but out here in this beautiful garden, the beats are muted and dulled.

And the quiet is exactly what Suguru needs.

A small bird chirps in one of the trees then flies off in surprise when the click of heels echo.

“There you are,” you call out.

Suguru’s whole body relaxes at the sound of your voice.

He lets go of the flower, and takes a single glance over his shoulder to find you walking towards him.

A vision.

His heart can’t stop stretching with every beat - he hasn’t been able to contain himself since he picked you up to take you to your friend’s wedding. Your gown is the perfect shade to compliment your skin, and the fabric bathes over your body like water. The material accentuates your figure in all the right places, making you look ethereal in the hour of twilight.

Suguru meets you halfway.

You are both tucked away in a secluded part of the garden, but can still see the wedding venue from where you are standing. “I didn’t want to interrupt you dancing with your friends,” he informs, extending both arms to hold your waist as he lures you into his frame.

You are looking up at him with all the affection that the world can possibly hold.

The shorter layers of his long hair is slicked back into a neat bun, and the rest falls down his back in a glorious waterfall of black. His three piece suit is snug on his broad frame, and the color brings out a purple hue in his eye.

“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” you point out, shivering into his biceps as the breeze kisses the parts of your exposed skin.

“It’s lovely. I like the venue…” he replies, “you want to take a walk with me?”

You perch your chin on his chest and smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

Suguru links his hand between your fingers, the bracelet on his wrist grazing over your skin. You love that he never takes it off, no matter what the occasion might be.

The two of you follow the paved walkway, passing by a variety of trees and plants. There are small lamps lighting up the stoned path, guiding you both through as night settles in. “The wedding was beautiful,” you speak in a daze. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” Suguru answers with a sigh, “it was…nice…”

Despite how calm he sounds, you instantly catch the hesitation in his reply.

When you received the invite to this wedding, you were ecstatic. You were allowed to bring a date (and, of course, you asked Suguru). What you didn’t expect was for the invite to spark a long and drawn out conversation about marriage in general. In the thick of the discussion, your boyfriend revealed that he doesn’t understand the fuss behind a wedding celebration to begin with.

“Marriage doesn’t equate to a commitment,” he blurted mindlessly with a hint of annoyance. “And weddings just seem like a waste of money to parade a relationship around for no good reason…”

You aren’t sure what caused the outburst but you respected that Suguru had his opinions.

Despite his indifference towards the night, he still attended for your sake.

You couldn’t help but wonder if his commentary stemmed from a place of fear.

Long term commitment is something new for him, and maybe the subject of marriage just spooks him a little.

“Look, I know weddings aren’t ideal for you, but I do appreciate you coming…” you state with gratitude. “I’m really happy for them because they’ve been together for a long time. I guess it’s nice to see them have their moment…” you add on, hoping to unscramble the uneasiness in your lover’s mind.

“So, you’ve said…” Suguru exhales, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm behind your waist. “Best thing to come out of tonight is the dress you’re wearing. Would you be sick of me if I repeat you how utterly gorgeous you look?”

You smile, “Only if I get to tell you that you should wear suits more often…”

“With the way you reacted earlier, I just might…”

Your laughs filters between the trees and the leaves. The path leads you both to a small bridge. You step over the curved arch, and are suddenly surrounded by a pool of water. You can hear the gentle ripples sing from the pond underneath your feet. You release yourself from Suguru’s hold to stand on the edge, placing both hands on the rail to look own. “Look at the fish!” You squeak, noticing the bright orange and white koi swimming. Their scales shimmer under the warmth of the small bulbs lighting up the entire area.

Suguru places both hands just outside of yours to cage you from behind, then drops his chin to meet your shoulder. The quiet settles in once again, the two of you posed like statues studying the sea creatures, and your breaths sync up.

“When I was a kid, I was convinced that koi fish came from oranges because of the color of their skin. I had no idea who planted that idea in my head…but my mom caught me stealing oranges from our kitchen and putting them in a bathtub full of water. She scolded me because she couldn’t figure out who was taking them to begin with-”

You laugh at the tidbit of information that he shares. “That is adorable…”

Suguru smiles, his large hands finding your own as he clasps over them gently.

He strokes his thumb over the back of your hands, his brows furrowing in contemplation.

“My dad egged it on for a while,” he whispers quietly in your ear, “told me that if I keep trying, maybe one of the oranges will hatch…”

Your body freezes that very second.

Suguru never talks about his father.

He mentioned him briefly in passing, like he was this presence that existed but had no real substance. All you know about his dad is that he left the family. Suguru’s mom was dependent on him for everything, and after he was gone, all the responsibility fell on Suguru’s shoulders.

Your heart pounds.

“One morning I went into the bathroom and found a koi fish in the tub. I was fucking ecstatic…” he huffs out a laugh. “Turns out, it was my dad who put the fish in the tub. He was trying to placate my mom about the oranges, but he also didn’t want to see me so disappointed that my theory wouldn’t work out. He figured if it worked, then I would stop my experimenting…”

You press your back deeper into his chest, molding your spine close to his heart.

“How old were you?” you ask softly.

“Five or six…” Suguru answers, but there’s a tenderness in his voice that makes your heart ache.

You flip your hands over and allow Suguru to trace his thumbs inside your palm. He follows each line that slopes up and down like it’s a drawing. His hands are one of your favorite features about him - his fingers long and slender. They looked even better with the silver accessories he had on.You trap his thumbs in your grasp, and mindlessly caress him with reassurance as you wait for him to continue.

“My dad was charming. My mom says I get that from him. And he…loved my mom,” Suguru confesses. “At least, I thought he did. He used to carry their wedding photo in his wallet, and would show it to me sometimes…”

You let go of his thumbs, and lace your fingers between his. You stare at the smooth surface of his silver ring, catching the small reflection of you both from the surface.

“I…” he breathes, “We…didn’t see it coming. The night before he left, he kissed my mother while she was cleaning up dinner, and hugged Mimi and Nana. He ruffled my hair and told me to help my mom before I went to bed. He went upstairs and when I woke up the next day, he was gone.”

A lump forms in your throat but you do your best to remain firm. You hold your strength because you recognize just how much it is taking for Suguru to be this vulnerable with you right now. But in the back of your head you see the face of a broken hearted teenage boy who knows that his world just fell apart.

“A week later he calls my mom to tell her that he isn’t coming back. That this…that we, weren’t the life he saw for himself,” the words spill out of him with a true grit of anger, and in a sinister tone that makes goosebumps form across your back and arms. It’s a hatred so unfamiliar to you. A voice so dark it sounds like it doesn’t even belong to him. “It destroyed her. She wouldn’t get out of bed for months. I did everything I could to protect Mimi and Nana from it…” he sighs.

But who was protecting you?

The thought rushed through your mind, but you bit back those words.

You didn’t have to remind Suguru of something he already knew.

“Suguru…” you breathe out, only then shifting so you can face him. Your hands find his jaw first, and you cradle him protectively wishing you could do everything in your power to take away the hurt.

He circles his hands over your wrists and clears his throat. “I wasn’t telling you this to make you feel bad, but I’ve been acting like a dick about this wedding…”

“You’re entitled to your opinion…” you answer back with a gentle grin, hoping to ease his grievance.

“I just feel like I was sold this lie my whole life, you know? Once in a while, I find myself wondering what the hell he was doing, what the hell he was thinking…and after how I turned out? I didn’t want to be tied down to anything or anyone…” he huffs out a laugh, “I guess the apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree. Sometimes I just want to know what was convincing him to think otherwise…”

You pull his face closer, and peck him softly against his lips.

“I have a hard time trusting happily ever afters…” he continues with a sigh. He drops his hand back down to the rail, and pushes his chest against yours.

One of your hand falls to his shoulder, while the other moves to hold his cheek. “Do you remember how nervous I was on our first date?”

Suguru’s attention flickers to your pretty irises, and he holds the stare as the memory resurfaces.

He nods his head.

You nip at your bottom lip. “That night when we almost kissed, I didn’t realize how easily I had let my guard down around you. Even after Shoko warned me to be careful! When we went on our date, I was just waiting for you to prove everyone right. For you to pull a fast one on me, to catch me off guard again, to love bomb me or try to take advantage of my naivety… ”

Those feelings seem so distant to you now - a blurry detail of an old photograph that you couldn’t quite place. “By the end of our first date, I got to see a side of you that I didn’t even expect,” you carry on with a smile and a tilt of your head, “You’re not the man people make you out to be. And I don’t think it’s fair that you let yourself believe how everyone else perceives you…”

Suguru lets you fiddle with his tie, but his chest tightens at your words. “You are the only one who ever says that to me…”

“You’ve always been honest, Suguru. You don’t play with people’s hearts intentionally, you’re a lot more sincere than you think you are. You’ve never lied to me about where you stood regarding relationships, and you follow through with your actions. From what you’ve told me, you’ve never been dishonest with others either. You said it yourself, you never promised commitment to anyone but they would force it on you. And, I don’t think that’s fair to you either. I don’t think it’s fair for everyone to paint you as the villain. I’m not saying you’re perfect - but no one in this world is. But…you would never abandon the people you care for so recklessly…”

You both gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, and the stillness blankets over you both to guard the serene moment.

Suguru finds your hips, and leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, remaining careful not to smudge your lipstick. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who really sees me…” he murmurs .

His hands smoothly move back up to your waist, and Suguru brings his mouth to kiss your temple. Your arms stretch out to wrap around his, and he holds you in the sweet embrace. “I’m not really against marriage, just for your information…” he murmurs into your hairline, and you do your best to hide your amused reaction.

Your hearts knock at one another, the muscles in your chests willing to rip skin just to get closer to the other’s soul.

“Oh?” You ask, feigning innocence behind your reaction.

“Look, I could truly go without. But I would be willing to give it a shot if…my partner wants that…”

He doesn’t say it outright, but your stomach flips because you know he’s talking about you.

Because you’re the only person he’s ever addressed with a title.

Girlfriend, partner, significant other…

It’s overwhelming knowing that he makes you the exception to all his rules, that he wants you to be a part of his forever.

Time passed since your fight at Yuki’s home, but your relationship has flourished into something even better that it was before. There are no questions on where you both stand, no room for petty jealousy or hesitations. You are still learning from one another, but it only made your commitment stronger. Your mutual confession of being in love hung over your heads like a daunting shadow, but you both aren’t ready to acknowledge it again just yet.

Love isn’t linear to either one of you, but you are okay not following a trajectory path that was supposed to make sense.

Instead, you both relied on your intuition and desire to lead the way.

But there is now a new hunger that stirred from within - a patience that’s wavering the longer time passes.

The thread is so fine, it’s barely holding it together, but the will to rush that final snap was weak. When these moments bubble and boil over is when you and Suguru have found yourselves entangled in intimate scenarios for the sake of indulgence. There was the steamy make out session which happened at a party which Satoru hosted. The place was packed with Satoru’s friends, and you both snuck away to lock yourselves in a bathroom, a little tipsy as your bodies pulsed with heat. Suguru’s lips were sucking on your aching nipples, and you were grinding up against his thigh hoping to keep your desperate moans down. You were both cooped up in there for a while, and didn’t split apart until someone knocked on the door to interrupt.

There was the night where you slept over at Suguru’s place. He was a bit on edge, and you offered to help him get some much needed release while you both snuggled under the sheets. his hot breath was on your neck while your hand was wrapped around his impressive length.

There was the lazy afternoon where Suguru had you pinned to your couch. The two of you ditching your plans to stay in. Your cheeks were wet with tears from how long he chose to go down on you that day. He was drunk on desire, and you can still recollect image of staining the cushion with your arousal from how wet you were. The noises you made were unnatural, but it was the most pleasure you’ve ever felt.

There was the morning where he woke up to your lips wrapped around his manhood, his voice breaking when dawn cracked through the horizon as he released his passion for you on your tongue. You don’t even know what came over you, for you to wake up with this intense urge to have your lover on your mouth. And especially after Suguru gave you permission in passing, you really wanted to take him up on his offer.

Every single time you both dipped your toes back into it, you could hear a tiny little snip of string.

You’re not even sure what’s keeping it tethered, but it feels too big to ignore that all it will take is one more thing, before the bind will finally break.

Footsteps approach in the distance as other guests start to meander out into the garden.

They remind you both that you are not alone right now.

But all you can think about is just how much you want to be.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Suguru is charming.

That natural charisma is what you drew you to him in the first place, and you watch all the other guests flock towards it, witness how his seduction transcends every boundariy. But you’re no longer insecure by this anymore. You don’t look at his confidence and shrink with intimidation. Now you gaze upon him with admiration and pride because Suguru’s energy is alluring and enticing, and you get to bask it in to your heart’s content.

The venue shrinks in size when you both stop for a few slow dances, the two of you hooked on one another like an unruly knot.

“Where did you learn to dance?” You whisper with curiosity.

“Mimi and Nana were obsessed with balls,” Suguru responds with a hint of embarrassment. “They needed someone to play lead for them…”

The way he talks about those girls makes you light up. Suguru was so doting towards them in every way. Even now, you have proof of just how much they rely on him. Suguru has cut a couple of dates short to bail them out of their rebellious antics or lose himself to hours on a phone call just to listen in when they need advice about life and love.

To those girls, he was there rock.

While listening to the toasts from the wedding party, Suguru reaches under the table to hold your hand in his. At some point, he just glances in your direction to smile at you, and you feel the whole world move with him.

You think about forever with him - picture a life where this would be an every day occurrence. While you ate dinner, you caught his eyes squinting adorably when he laughed at one of your jokes, and it reminded you of why this side of Suguru is your favorite.

It’s the playful side of someone who isn’t taking himself too seriously or curating a fantasy.

You can’t stop fixating on him; at the way the tip of his noise points a little upward, and how the tendons in his neck would flex with subtle gestures. You’re so lost in this man, that life around you starts to fade, and suddenly there is another pang in your chest.

You really didn’t want to be here anymore.

You really wanted to be alone with him.

As the two guests sitting beside him politely excuse themselves, you feel Suguru pin his shoulder to yours.

Your lips find his ear, “hey,” you murmur, “you want to head out?”

“It’s a bit early to leave. Are you getting tired?” He wonders thoughtfully.

“I have cinnamon rolls back at my place,” you answer, feeling selfish for even suggesting this. “I wouldn’t mind dessert…”

“Not a fan of wedding cake?”

You shake your head no.

Suguru grins. “Alright, let’s go…”

You say goodbye to the bride and groom and thank them for the invite. When you exit the premises you feel like you’re walking on clouds. Suguru takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders before leading you to the car. Once inside, he strips off his vest and rolls up his sleeves. You can’t help but ogle him as he relaxes, and watch the way his expert fingers unfastens his tie. The veins on his forearms pulse, and your mouth goes dry at the sight.

“You’re such a tease…” you scold playfully, “I wanted to do that…”

He shifts his attention seductively in your direction, but his grin is as cheeky as ever.

“I’ve still got clothes on that you can take off, sweetheart.”

You pout in response.

Suguru has one hand on the wheel, but the other slings around the back of your neck to pull you in. He doesn’t stop himself when he kisses you this time. Your lips part as his tongue slips into your mouth. There’s no reason for him to be considerate of you looking prim and proper now that you are both leaving for the evening.

You moan into the kiss, and he hums in return. When he pulls away, your lipstick is stained all over his mouth, but you instantly catch his face. “Hold on, Sugu…” you giggle, grabbing him with one hand and reaching for the tissue in the glove compartment with the other.

“What? The color doesn’t look good on me?” He teases.

You shake your head as you wipe his mouth. “You’re shameless.”

“Nothing about you gives me any reason to feel shame,” he answers matter of factly.

Your whole body seizes, but you glance down to his mouth to avoid the intense way his eyes were piercing into yours.

You’re still contemplating your relationship on the drive back home. There is music playing from the station, and Suguru is humming along to all his favorite tunes while keeping one of his hands nonchalantly on your thigh. It’s these moments that make your heart quiver - the quiet, mundane things that you get to share with the man of your dreams.

And he really is the man of your dreams.

Suguru always talks about how lucky he got with you, but you can’t help but feel the same way too.

“You know, I don’t need a wedding or marriage to prove I love someone,” you say mindlessly, “I wouldn’t force it on someone who doesn’t want it…”

Suguru squeezes your thigh, but keeps his eyes on the road.

“Oh?” He says, his voice breaking at the abrupt statement.

You trace your index finger over his knuckles, “I believe that love should make you feel safe. You don’t really need anything else if you have that…”

Suguru Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. He lets your words marinate over his soul before asking, “do you feel safe with me?”

There’s a sense of uncertainty in his tone, like he’s expecting you to deny that fact even though it’s clearly not true. He walked into this relationship thinking he was a sinner and you were a saint. You half wonder if he thinks you’ll tell him that you’re still unsure, and that he will still have to keep working to earn your trust. You clasp your hand over the one that’s resting on your thigh, and turn to look up at him.

He’s avoiding you this time by keeping his eyes on the road.

This is…too much for you both.

“The safest,” you answer softly.

He breathes out his relief but there’s a small, prideful smile resting on his lips.

“Good to know,” he acknowledges, his voice smoother than liquid gold.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Sugar and cinnamon permeate the corners of your apartment, and the aroma makes your stomach grumble. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, kicking your legs excitedly as Suguru pulls out the plate that was in the microwave.

The roll is fat, fresh and fluffy - a perfect swirl steaming as the glaze melts between the layers.

Suguru grabs two forks from the drawer and hands one to you.

“Dig in, angel.”

He lets you take the first bite, and you moan loudly as you close your eyes to savor the delicious, most perfect taste of spice and sweet. Suguru just chuckles at the response then takes a bite for himself.

“It’s so good,” you sing.

“It is,” he hums.

You hook both your legs around his to tug him in, keeping as minimal space as possible.

“So much better than cake,” you share in secret, and Suguru just gives you a knowing glance.

“What?” You ask, gently poking the prongs of your fork on his shoulder.

Suguru flickers his eyes down, right through the plate and straight to the space between your legs. The fan of his lashes open up beautifully, and he quirks his brow with mischievous intent.

“I know something else that tastes even better, but I’m behaving myself…”

Your cunt clenches with need, your body clawing at you with its reactions. It’s begging you to do something before it combusts. You ignore the demand, and dig into the cinnamon bun, only this time you bring it to his lips. “Simmer down, lover boy…” you coo.

Suguru smiles, flashing you all his teeth before accepting the bite from your hand. “I can’t around you. That’s the problem…” he says in between chews.

You both continue eating your treat until there is nothing left but the crumbs and drizzle. You swipe some left over frosting along with some powdery bits, and bring it up to Suguru’s mouth. He places the plate by your side, and sucks on your finger, licking it clean. You tap him playfully on the nose, and in turn he leans down to kiss you once more.

The kiss is perfect and easy, and it makes you feel like you’re malleable in every way possible. He turns your world into pink stains and rosy pigments. Your body vibrates like it’s heeding an unspoken call, and you know for a fact that you’re not the only one feeling this right now.

Suguru pulls away, but cups your jaw in his palms to cradle you like you’re a precious stone. He looks deeply into your eyes, a sense of uncertainty burning between that same strong gaze that was rendering you weak.

“I never thought,” he begins to speak, but pauses for a second to collect his thoughts. You notice he does this whenever he has anything serious to say, like he is trying to make sure he’s considerate of his words. “I never thought I would have this…”

His voice is low and hushed, and you bring two hands to wrap around his wrists.

“Fuck, I didn’t even think I wanted this…” he adds on.

You smirk, “I never thought I would have this too. I’ve been on my own for so long…”

“When you rejected my first kiss, ” he speaks, “I thought about backing off. I told myself not to fuck around with you. But…I couldn’t walk away.”

“I almost thought you would,” you added on meekly “when we had that fight at Yuki’s…”

“No matter how angry or upset I get, I’d just come crawling back to you. You have me on my knees without even knowing it…” he sighs, his thumb strokes your cheek but the way he was looking at you has you holding your breath. You can see the gears turning in his head. “I’m safe with you too,” he confirms.

Your heart flutters, it nearly soars its way up your throat and out of your own mouth. Tears prick your eyes, but your try to ignore them. “I’m glad,” you say with a shaky breath, and attempt to clear your throat when it constricts. “I want you to be.”

The muscles on his face pull into a sincere expression, one that’s pensive yet warm. Suguru breaths out your name, and the way it rolls off his tongue feels like a prayer.

“I love you.”

You were expecting it, but when those three words struck you still didn’t anticipate how deep it would puncture through your heart. You blink back the forming tears, a little sniffle leaving you as you maintain your smile. Suguru swallows the lump in his throat, his gaze softening as he arches forward to bring his mouth closer.

You press your fingers against his lips to stop him, your dewy irises seeking out his own.

“I love you too,” you whisper before he can carry on, and a single tear falls unexpectedly which Suguru quickly catches with his thumb.

Your lover presses his mouth to yours with a kiss that fully unravels you. You move to grab onto his shirt, because it feels like you’re turning into dust. His mouth finds your cheek, the tip of your nose, and then moves back to your lips once again. His hand falls to your lap, his arms extending to wrap around you and engulf you in his frame.

And you wanted to be consumed by every part of him.

He picks up your legs and wraps them around his waist, keeps you secure against his chest before lifting you up from the kitchen counter. Your mouth leaves his and finds his neck, your lips licking over the spot that you know makes his cheeks turn a certain shade of red.

He grunts out a curse, and hurries straight to the bedroom.

He shoves his shoulder against the wooden frame, leading you both inside. He carefully perches you on the mattress, then kneels on the ground right in front of you. You wipe the mouth with the back of your hand, your body burning from the layer you still had on. You shrug off Suguru’s jacket, and watch as he carefully clasps your ankle. He places it on his thigh, and removes your pointed heel from one foot.

He arches forward to kiss your knee before switching to your other leg.

One of your hands reaches for the shell of his ear, and you trace the curve all the way down to his piercing.

“Sugu,” you call out to him, as he takes off the second shoe. He lifts his head to find your desperate eyes. “My dress…”

He crawls up your body and hoists you back so you were standing upright on your bare feet. He spins you, so you are facing the bed, making your stomach flip as your eyes stare down at the pillows and slightly rumpled sheets.

It feels different this time.

Your stomach erupts with butterflies.

His expert fingers find the zipper of your dress, and he tugs at the seam and draws it off. Your body exhales from the release, and Suguru kisses the curve of your shoulder as the material drops to your feet.

You turn to face him, and rush to find the buttons of his shirt.

Your hands are shaking.

You unlatch the first button and the second, but by the time you get to the third you feel one of his hands grasp over yours which jitters.

“Baby,” he speaks affectionately, “we don’t have to…”

You shake your head, “no, I want to. I really, really want to. I’m just…a little nervous. We waited so long-”

He loosens his grip when your voice breaks, making it hard for your to speak. His hand meets your naked waist and he interrupts you with another kiss.

“I told you once that I would take such good care of you,” he states, “And I will…”

Your fingers linger over the button of his shirt.

“Don’t rush. We will take it nice and slow,” he ensures, “we’ve got all the time we need.”

He lets you catch yourself; lets you find a minute to breathe from the whirlwind of emotions that have compounded into you. You release a shaky exhale, and try to ignore the way your knees tremble and the back of your neck pricks with warmth.

He taps you underneath your chin, “weren’t you the one giving me the hard time earlier about taking off my clothes?”

The casualness of his delivery makes you puff out a laugh, but the comfort gives you the push you need to continue undressing him. He slips off his shirt, and your hands touch at the surface of his hard torso. You’ve seen Suguru naked countless times now, but he still takes your breath away no matter what. Your hand grazes over the front of his pants, and his eyes flutter close as you touch his hard-on. You unfasten his belt, and unzip his trousers. The fabric falls to the floor, leaving Suguru in just his boxers.

You both step out of the puddle of clothing, and stand half-naked in the middle of the room.

Suguru reaches to hold your hands in his. “If anything, anything…” he speaks quietly, “makes you uncomfortable, just tell me. If you want to stop at any point, we will stop”

“You’ll tell me too?” You respond innocently, and Suguru almost chokes back his reply because no one has ever asked him that question before.

Who knew that such a simple gesture would cause something to pricks his own eyes. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll tell you…”

“I want to make sure…” you sigh, “that I do this right”

He smiles against your lips. “Practice makes perfect, right?”, he says with a kiss. “But for tonight, I want this to be about you, okay?”

“But…” you resist, and gaze up at him affectionately with an expression that forces himself to hold back from ruining you right then and there. “but it’s about us. I want you tell me what you like. I want to know what you enjoy. So, I will know for next time…”

“I’ve got you,” he breathes as he bites at your bottom lip with his teeth. “That’s all I need…”

Your head feels so light, you think it’s made of air. “Why does this feel so different from everything we’ve done before?” You gasp, pushing away from his face as your noses bump.

“Because it is different…” Suguru adds, his fingers tucking under your chin to stop you from hiding. “It is.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Tangled between another kiss and between more sweet caresses, you find yourself on the mattress once again. Suguru brings his mouth to your ear, his fingers hooking underneath your damp underwear.

“I need you wet,” he informs under his breath, pressing the pads of his digits to your slick slit. “Really, really wet…”

All you can do is whimper at that.

“You’ll be good for me, yeah, angel? Let me prep you just right?”

Your thighs spread wider. “Yeah, I’ll be good for you…”

Suguru snags your lobe with his teeth - the heat of his mouth travels down your neck. He licks his way down the slope, pausing to suck on the tender, sensitive areas he’s grown to love so much. He moves lower to the mounds of your breasts, and he peppers your chest with soft bites and kisses.

“Unhook your bra for me, love…” he adds, his fingers working your pussy the whole time.

He rubs you gently, and at such a languid pace it makes you want to relax.

You arch your back up, and he separates himself just enough for you to remove your bra.

Your breasts spill out on display for him, and you toss the lacy material over his shoulder which makes his eyes squint with amusement. When it catches on to a lamp and you almost jerk with worry thinking you knocked it over.

“It’s fine,” Suguru soothes, and you cover your mouth to hide your own laugh.

His heart sighs at the response, at the comfort you have with him by your side.

He is the only man in the world who gets to see you like this.

You truly belong to him in every way possible.

Your laugh stutters into quiet pants, as his fingers spread your lips to gather your arousal. He moves up to find your clit, and rubs over the hard little nub carefully.

You sigh into his touch, and only then does he lean to kiss your nipple.

He drags his tongue across the pointed end, his lips circling around the tip to suck. Your arms drape over his shoulders, keeping him in place as your body trembles with desire. Suguru bites and tugs at your nipple, his hand spreading your lips to tease the entrance before returning back to your clit.

Your nails drag down his back, and he groans at the touch.

All you can hear is quiet squelches from between your legs and your pants echoing around you.

Suguru slithers his body lower and lower, his tongue tasting the mid-line of your stomach until he makes his way to your pubis. He presses a kiss to the middle, the heat of his breath getting closer and closer to your clit.

“When you masturbate, have you been doing what I showed you?” He asks.

Your body ignites on fire, and you see his mouth hover of your clit as his fingers pause its movement.

You swallow the thickness in your throat.

Suguru taught you how to finger-fuck yourself. The same night you gave him a hand job, he returned the favor by perching your back against his chest and spreading your legs wide. He guided you and showed you how to carefully press your fingers inside you.

He wanted you to get used to the sensation.

“Yes,” you say with a nod.

“Atta girl,” he answers with pride, then clasps his lips over your clit.

A sound comes from the base of your throat, as your head falls back.

His tongue flicks back and forth over the bud in measured movements, and his fingers spread the lips of your labia. He uses his middle finger to prod at your entrance, grazing over the hole teasingly for a second at first. As your body opens up for him, he pushes it in, and slowly pushes his digit in until it reaches his first knuckle.

You quiver from the sensation - it’s so foreign having someone else penetrate you. You’ve grown use to your own touch, but Suguru’s hands were different than your own.

He drags it back and forth, keeping his mouth over your clit.

The second your breath evens out is when he picks up the pace and pushes his finger even further. Your hips buck gently as he pushes all the way down to the base, a cry leaving your throat as two hands move to grip the pillow behind you.

You can hear him slurp, and lick, and suck. Hear the “schlick” sound that his finger is orchestrating.

He pumps faster and faster, his other hand moving to rest on your lower belly.

Your toes curl, and your legs spasm from the electric shocks that ripple down and up your body.

“Suguru~” you whine, and he just nibbles at your clit in acknowledgement.

Your nose gets a little stuffy, your eyes shut close as white little sparks flash from behind your lids. Your lower back arches as he curls his finger, moving in a come hither motion that makes your belly flutter.

You shake and moan, a string of vowels leaving your tongue.

You tense around his finger as your orgasm pulses through your body, shaking out of you necessarily. Suguru releases your clit with a pop, but only slows his finger inside you. He keeps maintaining his movement, his gaze catching the daze of your own.

He’s insatiable. He doesn’t even know if a lifetime would fulfill him from how badly he craves you.

“I love how you say my name right when you’re about to cum,” he coos, the hand on your lower belly moves further down to touch your tender clit. He massages the bud with his thumb, his other finger fucking you with calculative precision. “The way your voice gets all breathy and light,” he adds on with a purr, “god, it’s my favorite fucking sound…”

You’re besotted by him; your eyes glowing with only love as you feel him work his affection between your legs.

“Going to make you cum again, alright, baby?” He informs, his head dipping back down to replace his thumb with his mouth again.

You nod your head - you told him you would let him lead, and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Suguru alternates; sometimes his tongue would be on your clit, and others it’s buried between your folds. The way he’s making love to your body right now has you liquifying. You’re not sure where his touch begins and where your pleasure ends.

It feels so good, too good.

You can barely tell when Suguru starts prodding in a second a finger, only when the stretch expands and your breath carries with it.

“Oh, f-fuck…” you shiver against his mouth, and Suguru uses two fingers this time to pump out your second orgasm.

He’s a bit rougher with his movements, allowing his fingers to dip and out of you at a pace that relieves some of his own tension. He pulls his mouth away, and lifts his body slightly up as he sees your thighs splay further apart. His other hand comes down to massage your clit, and you can feel your wetness drip down his fingers and between the line of your sex.

Your belly clenches tightly this time, and your heart skips every other beat.

“Feel good?” he checks in.

“Yesyesyes,” you reply eagerly, your hips lifting from the surface.

“I can see that,” he hums, as he presses more firmly on your clit to swipe back and forth in a quicker motion. “You’re a fucking vision right now…”

The sound you make is pathetic but you don’t even care - you’re so overwhelmed by what’s happening right now you are not considering how untamed you look. Your hips lift up higher, and you buck against Suguru’s ministrations despite how relentless he is.

If that man wants you to cum on fingers or tongue, he will make it happen, regardless of how you respond.

Your second orgasm is sharper, and when it hits, Suguru instantly pulls his hands away and rests it against your hips. Your cunt contracts and pulses in beats, and your spine tingles from the sensation. He arches back forward to snag your a nipple poking against the air. He sucks on the bud, and licks over it once, before sliding his tongue back up your neck until he finds your mouth.

You can smell yourself on him.

Taste yourself on him.

His hands link with your own and he wraps it around his neck so you’re holding him.

He gives you a few minutes to steady yourself, but your breath is being stolen by his lips and tongue.

“One more,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you whimper in defeat.

“You’ll be okay, angel,” he responds as he sits upright.

He unties his hair, his mane surrounding his face in a dark halo. He pulls back the entirety of its length into a single bun, keeping it out of the way as he watches you pant to steady yourself.

It occurs to him then that he forgot to put down a towel, but he’s too far gone to stop.

“We don’t need this anymore,” he instructs, reaching for the string of your panties.

He takes them off you and drops them to the side.

His cock strains against his boxers, the bulge making your eyes widen with anticipation.

He removes them next, allow his dick to spring free as it smacks against him with dribbles of pre-cum leaking from the head.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, keeping his eyes on you to make sure you follow through.

You tweak your nipple with one hand while the other slithers down your stomach.

God, you were wet.

Suguru gets up from the bed only to reach for his pants. He pulls out his wallet, and finds the condom that he slipped in just a few months ago. He used to have them on him all the time, but stopped carrying one around after you both got together. But ever since things started heating up, he thought it would be good to have one just in case.

“Sugu~?” You call out.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can I-” you request, and point at the rubbery material with your other hand.

He nods his head and settles back on the bed.

He rips the condom open for you, and you take it. After you position yourself, you proceed to stroke his length, moving back and forth over his shaft and you feeling yourself dripping for him.

Every part of this man is a blessing.

Suguru grunts, and stammers “c-condom….”

But you keep stroking him and lick your lips. “Want you in my mouth…”

He hisses at that, his abdomen flexing when your thumb drags over his slit.

He does everything in his power to keep it together, musters up all the will he can to ensure he doesn’t release himself on your hand right then and then.

“Wait ’til I’m inside you,” he begs, “please, angel…”

You give in because you want it just as much too.

Once you roll the condom on, Suguru grabs onto your ass and pulls you in for another kiss. This one is a little more sloopy, a little more animalistic. He sucks on your tongue, and leaves a mark of bruising adoration on your bottom lip. He slots his knee between your legs, and situates you down so your pussy was pressed against his thigh.

“Grind up against me,” he breathes into your mouth. “I like to feel how wet you are…”

He has one hand on your ass, the other on your nipple which he tweaks and pulls. Your hips start gyrating in thrusts against his thigh, and just as you find a steady pace, he moves to kiss you once again.

The bed creaks and the springs mewl, but you hump his thigh like you’re in insufferable heat.

Suguru flexes his thigh against your cunt, and you claw at the front of his chest as you moan into his mouth.

“I can’t wait to have you riding me,” he smiles into another kiss, and pinches your nipple as you start climbing up yet another peak. He slaps your ass playfully, his teeth biting your bottom lip. “Faster.”

You oblige, and increase the movements.

You pull away from his mouth, and press your forehead to his. Your hands brace yourself on his shoulders until both your legs clench around his thigh.

There’s a tear that leaves you when your orgasm hits this time, but you’re shaking in his arms and he kisses your cheek lovingly.

“So fucking beautiful,” he praises against your ear.

His thigh is sticky with your arousal, the glittering strings clinging on both your bodies.

Suguru kisses you once more, and pushes his weight down so you fall back to the mattress. He keeps you lingering in the act until he aligns himself. “Don’t tense up,” he instructs, “I need you open for me…”

Time goes still with neither of you really breathing. You both focus on the point of contact, watch as Suguru presses the tip of his cock to your entrance. The initial push of the fat head feels like a breach, but you try to do your best to relax.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he sighs like he’s in disbelief, “my pretty pussy…”

And with that, he breaks you.

The stretch makes you scrunch up your nose and brows, but Suguru manages to get the head in with no complications.

“That’s the tip, baby. You’re doing well. Breathe for me, okay? Just relax…”

You nod your head, and follow through. With every exhalation you tell your muscles to relax, and allow your body to turn into something that your lover can mold. Suguru pushes in another inch, moving carefully as to not shock you.

One more now, he counts, watching as you slowly suck him in.

But you hiss when the stretch starts to burn, and the man drops to his forearms to keep you in a close embrace.

“Suguru, wait,” you beg worringly, and he halts his movements instantly.

He kisses your cheek, and then your neck. He kisses your collar bone and then your jaw. He finds your lips and pecks you softly. “Angel,” he soothes, “look at me…”

Your eyes are brimming with tears. He can feel that you’re fully tensed up.

When you meet his gaze, you soften, and sniffle as you try to relax your upper body first.

One of Suguru’s hands finds your hips, and he tenderly rubs gentle circles against your pelvis.

“I know, baby. I know it’s not comfortable right now, but I promise it’ll feel good. You’re taking me in so well…” he ensures, “but I need you to keep breathing, please.”

You release a shaky breath, and nod your head as you lick your lips.

“Nice and slow, remember?” Suguru reminds you. “I’ll only move when you tell me to…”

A few deep breaths in and out, and you finally give him permission to carry on.

He guides you the rest of the way, guides you through the painful breach and stretch of him of finally taking your virginity. Your body doesn’t know anyone else but him, but in turn he realizes that he never wants to be inside anyone else other than you.

You can’t manage his full length at the moment, but that’s okay.

He isn’t going to hurt you.

Not ever.

Goosebumps ripple on your skin. Your head falls back to the pillow as one hand circles around Suguru’s forearm. He kisses your neck with so much care it almost makes your heart shatter to be loved this way. He starts thrusting, his movements so gentle and sweet. His body is connected to yours, his weight heavy as the heat of his cock spreads your gummy walls for him. You tilt your face so you were in line with him, your eyes opening sleepily as you find his set. Your lids are heavy, your body adjusting to the transition from pain to pleasure. Your legs grow weak as they spread further apart from each side, and the more Suguru moves the more he can feel you taking in a little more of him.

“Feels,” you sigh dreamily, “feels good now…”

“Think you can take all of me?” He asks.

“Please,” you beg, “please, try…”

Suguru braces himself, because he knows he just might bust a nut on the spot from how you are squeezing him. He leans down to kiss your temple and your parted lips, then readjusts his position.

And then he thrusts.

Your vision goes white as he buries himself to the hilt. All you can feel his hot heat breath on the side of your neck, the room starting to spin as your body grows to understand this new form, this new feeling.

He stays still for a few minutes just simply cock warming you. It breaks him then, just how long he’s waited with such determination to have you here in his arms like this. You can feel something wet on your skin. Suguru draws in a deep inhale through his nose, far too overwhelmed by his own emotions. “Heaven,” he murmurs into your neck,“you feel like fucking heaven.”

When you meet his stare again, you see that his own eyes are glossy.

Suguru leans down to kiss you, capturing the intimacy on his tongue. “I love you so fucking much,” he exhales once more, and slowly starts moving his hips again.

“Love you too, Sugu~” you whine back and wrap your arms around his shoulder to keep him as close as possible in your embrace.

He presses into you, fucks you like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched, as he makes love to you for the very first time. There is no more words that follow after, just your panting breaths and quiet moans in between. The bed frame hits the wall from his weight, the sheets gathering away from the mattress. You taint the condom with each of his thrusts, both of your hips stuttering from the sensation of your bodies becoming one. Suguru rests his forehead against yours, one hand reaching to lace between your own which he presses down feverishly against the sheet. Your lips hover over one another, sharing each erratic breath. You close your eyes and feel your body blending into all of his angles.

Suguru kisses your cheek, then slips his tongue back inside your open mouth.

You’re tangled and knotted up in every way possible, and your hips begin to spasm as your orgasm builds. You can feel your clit brushing up against him, and the sensation makes you shake as your body comes apart. You break away from the kiss just to look down at the point where your bodies meet, and your toes curl as you consider just how perfectly made you are for one another.

When your orgasm rips, you almost pass out.

Suguru holds you in place, his movements more careless when gives in to his last few thrusts.

He groans loudly when he finally cums.

Your bodies collapse into each other, your form pulled into strings as if you are swimming in a black hole of love. You’re clinging onto him out of need, still attempting to come down from this euphoric high. Meanwhile, Suguru doesn’t pull out just yet, but instead rolls over to his side and keeps you tucked in his frame.

When you meet his attention, you see life bleed back into your little bubble of love.

His hair is tousled, his cheeks a little blushed. You trace your fingers against the crimson blooming underneath his skin, notice that his eyes are still glittering from when the tears formed.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he answers back. “You okay?”

You prod your face into his neck, nuzzling him and gathering his scent. The air smells of your love for each other, and you just wanted to take it all in.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, before returning back and meeting him eye to eye.

Suguru reaches on hand up, and slowly outlines the shell of your ear.

He can’t stop staring at you.

He’s so in love with every part of you.

But this time, there was nothing guarding that fact, it’s written so plainly on his face.

The way he’s looking at you, you know nobody has ever seen such an expression before.

This is a first for him too.

And how lucky are you to be the only person in the world to witness it.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

tags: @gradmacoco @labelt-san @bloomix00 @fleurni

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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scatter-snz · 3 months ago

Text

Best Laid Plans - Part 2

Details: 12k, M sneezes, M/F (for now..)

Summary: A secret agent is going undercover for a few days, and his target has a sneeze fetish. It’s time for him to put his research to the test.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

AAAA EVERYONE ♥️ I am overwhelmed TwT. Thank you so much for sharing your likes, comments, reblogs, asks, and tags QwQ. My original stuff means a lot to me, so I’m really, REALLY touched that people enjoyed this!! To everyone who left kind words, you give me soul power 💕 I hope this part hits as hard as the first one did, and that you all like it!

Also wanted to quickly shout out @themiseryandcompany, @bestwhumpist, @juxtaposedrose, and @stormyweaver for going so hard in the tags!! Seriously kicking my feet and squealing, I felt spoiled by your commentary, thank you so much for all the love🥹

These are original characters, all in their mid twenties to early thirties!

(Warnings: Unrealistic science, Mess Lite™, fake contagion themes [nobody can catch this cold], exhibition / humiliation themes [main character gets horny in public], feeling pleasure from sneezing, masturbation).

THIS STORY IS NSFW!

It was a little after 1930 in this timezone, standard military time. They’d started their final descent to the landing strip with the beginnings of a sunset smeared across a cloudless sky. And during the flight, Omicron learned three key pieces of information.

Firstly, he absolutely could not stop sneezing. It was simply impossible. He’d swaggered to his plushy recliner with hubris and paid for it about 57 minutes later after dutifully repressing every single rising urge that niggled his sinuses over the course of the hour. It grew and grew in him, increasingly worrisome in its size, until the tickle was just too strong to hold at bay. No amount of snorting, nose blowing, or finger rubbing would ward it back.

It forced him at metaphorical gunpoint to the closet-like bathroom, blindly staggering through tears and wrenching hitches, where he dropped to a crouch and then to his backside with almost a dozen cataclysmic sneezes. Each one worked his lungs like a bellows, dizzying him until he saw spots, winding him until he felt breathless. By the end he was wrecked, and clinging perilously to his self control. He realized then that his sneezing wouldn’t bring him to orgasm alone; it could only lead him to the edge and trap him there until he finished the job himself. Which he obviously couldn’t do in the agency’s aircraft lavatory.

So. He gave up on the ‘don’t sneeze until the jet lands’ plan.

Instead, Omicron washed his face, dried his hands, and resigned himself to minding his nose’s whims. His original hypothesis was correct - if he did nothing to deter his sneezes, they’d come at regular, but controllable, intervals. This remained consistent as long as he didn’t make the other critical error.

Which led him to the second issue: if his mind strayed too far toward anything sneeze-related, he armed the tickle with more ammo. His sneezes became unwieldy if he held them back, yes, but they also magnified to arousing proportions if he imagined literally anything tickling his nose. This was the hallmark of Dr. Voster’s virus - the ‘suggestion sneeze.’ So to avoid a case of blue balls, Omicron did his best not to ruminate on the ceaseless, beckoning sensation that lived in him now. This was by far the most trying aspect of his predicament.

And the third and final bit of info was an exasperating realization: Agent Delta was a chronic and committed blesser even in these circumstances.

“H-ah.. DZSshuh!”

“Bless you.”

Omicron resisted the urge to rub his nose, and instead treated it to a dab from his beleaguered tissue. Any motion more substantial than that would goad it into further misbehavior. He wasn’t interested in another stumbling trip to the bathroom.

“Sir.” He sounded as congested as he felt; his voice was locked up in his sinuses. “You really don’t have to bless me every time.”

Delta patted Omicron’s knee. The two of them sat side by side, despite the sea of empty seats around them. “Aw, Omicron, you keep saying that. I really don’t mind.”

I mind, groused Omicron. That’s why I keep saying it. His gaze drifted to the porthole window and all the little, passing structures beneath. The ground drew closer meters at a time, just as the tickle, yet again, tugged him closer to a conclusion he’d given up fighting. He blinked wetly against the sensation, then let his eyes fall shut. The image of the tiny cars cruising down below lingered, each one speeding undeterred to a destination. They were perpetual. Indefinite. And it was far beyond Omicron’s ability to stop their momentum.

He felt the tickle lurch forward, ripping his breath into a shuddering, “-hUH!hh.. mbb..” Omicron swatched his finger beneath his nose, pausing when the tickle reprimanded him with a lancing spark. “eh-HEH!..hh..”

Hurry up already, he chided with a daring snub to his nose. His nostrils pulsed erratically, aggravated, and another gasp shivered out of him. “h-hh-hh.. HAH-TZSS!sss’uhh..”

“Bless you!” chirped Delta.

It was a particularly unsatisfying sneeze, and ridiculous as it was he felt mocked by his own nose. Omicron sniffled, sniffled again, trying to flare the tickle into action. But it wouldn’t budge. He dug at his eyes with his palms.

“Does your head hurt?” asked Delta.

Omicron dropped his hands and leaned his head back against the seat with another defeated sniffle. “Ndo, sir. Mby head doesn’d hurt.”

“Do you need more tissues?”

His fingernails bit into the palm of his hand. “Ndo, sihHH-”

Unwilling to endure another hygiene lecture, Omicron flinched both elbows to his face and kept his nose there. He heaved through a series of increasingly yearning breaths, light on the inhales, heavy on the exhales, shoulders lifting and dropping each time he thought the sneeze might grant him mercy. In the end it left him wanting. He dropped his arms and panted, eyes still closed, cheeks streaked with tears.

Delta cleared his throat and Omicron lulled his head in that direction, squinting through sticky eyelashes. His superior held a fresh pack of tissues in offering, and Omicron’s cheeks heated. How many of these did he bring??

He didn’t snatch them, but it was a near thing. Delta’s smile tilted with sympathy, and Omicron prickled like a wet cat. “You can vent your complaints to me if you want, I don’t mind.”

“Not sure what you mean,” he muttered through gritted teeth, scrubbing his nose with intentional strength. It stung, but served it right.

“It’s okay to be grumpy, Omicron.” Delta spoke like he was soothing a startled horse. “I’m sure this is a tricky situation to manage.”

What remained of Omicron’s professional decorum disintegrated, and he snapped with a waspish, “What would you know?”

Delta’s eyebrows flew up and Omicron’s blood flashed cold. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“P...Pardon mbe, sir,” he mumbled and lowered his tissue with a sniff. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

“Yes, it was,” Delta agreed, his tone contemplative. “But it was also very out of character for you. I’ve seen you stay composed during triage for a gunshot wound. Just what about this has you so out of sorts?”

Admitting to Delta that there was more to this than simply sneezing - disclosing the induced erections that were slowly eroding his self control - would be professional suicide. Even if this side effect wasn’t Omicron’s fault, it was his responsibility to manage. This was a chance to prove himself, and if he screwed it up he’d never get this chance again. That’s just how it was at the agency.

He’d have to lie. Lie until he could deflect.

“Dnothi’g, sir,” he said. “It jhhust tih.. iih..ckles-hh..hH..” Omicron’s eyelids fluttered and he crushed his crumpled tissue to his face.

Please, please, please, he found himself begging as the itch crawled around behind his eyes. Give me a good one.

Against his better judgement, a smoky silhouette sprung to his mind’s eye. Something lithe and graceful, skulking through his nasal passages heedless of the sorry state of them. It glided across raw nerves, pausing to snuggle against their warmth as Omicron sliced his lungs with a gasp. Then dragged the breath back out on a groan. Fuck, he could feel it. Could feel the dimensions of the tickle as it prowled and pawed, arched and sprawled, coy in its torture. He could feel his nerves recoil, his nostrils spasm - a panicked cry for action.

“h-YEH!hh..oh.. hh-HEH-”

Omicron panted as the tickle receded, plumeing into an indistinct but irritating mist. Like a phantom it spread through him, coating his quaking membranes as it drifted deeper.. deeper.. deeper still. It filled his nose with a sensation too ambiguous to do much more than hopelessly itch. His hiccuping breaths eased to stillness; he was trapped on this plateau, punished by a tickle that wouldn’t grow. It merely wanted to endure. A bit frantic, Omicron tried to grasp onto a more solid visual. It didn’t matter what it was, it could be anything, just so long as-

“Agent Omicron?”

The torturous mist evaporated, leaving his nose singed and no longer imminently sneezy. It took substantial restraint for Omicron not to pound his armrest in abject, miserable frustration. He blew his nose in defeat, raked his sleeves over his cheeks to clear the tears, and sniffled. His nose squeaked in reply.

“.. I don’t think I can adequately communicate how annoying this is, sir.”

“Well, it really must be a bother if it’s making you pout like this.”

Omicron puffed up in offense and casted for a snide reply before he remembered that this was his boss. He bit his tongue, figuratively and literally. “It’s true this is testing my patience,” he said, “but I assure you that it won’t impact my performance. I’ll achieve nothing less than exceptional results. And respectfully, sir, I’m not pouting.”

Then he shimmied in his seat to face the window.

Agent Delta considered him with a skeptical eye, and as someone who knew the extent of his subordinate’s gifts he was right to do so. Deception was something of Omicron’s specialty. Trained in the art of information extraction, he excelled at becoming whomever a target wanted to see: a cautious creative type, a severe and dismissive businessman, the gullible boy next door or the leather-clad motorcyclist your friends warned you about. This ability, among other qualities, landed him this case.

But tricking a stranger he’d researched for weeks and swindling his superior officer were two different beasts.

“As you say,” Delta conceded to Omicron’s back.

The jet’s landing gear grazed the runway.

+ + +

The destination was tropical, but close enough to a coastline that the heat wasn’t stifling. Their resort hotel was nothing short of opulent, offering amenities such as: a grand carpeted staircase, bellhops in uniform, and over a dozen glittering chandeliers. They’d changed into their civilian clothes before entering to better blend in. Well, blend was a strong word for Agent Delta; he wore Bermuda shorts with an equally garish aloha shirt printed with hibiscus flowers. Omicron doubted it was an officially sanctioned garment. He himself donned something understated - khaki shorts, boat shoes, and a white v-neck t-shirt. A pair of gold aviator sunglasses sat on top of his head.

He’d done what he could for his nose. When he caught sight of it in the jet’s bathroom mirror just before they deplaned, he could understand why Delta kept needling him. The skin was blushed an obscene red, the color deepest at his nostrils and fanning out across his septum, cupid’s bow, and as far up to the bridge of his nose. He also hadn’t been aware of how much it moved on its own, incessantly prodded by the tickle inside. Looking at himself too long just made him feel sneezier, and Omicron had braced his hands on the bathroom counter with helpless hitching until he coughed out a single, underwhelming, ih’BZSch!

Now watching Delta check in at the front desk from across the hotel lobby, Omicron tempered his trembling nostrils with a touch of his index finger. Settle down, he bargained. Stop teasing me.

His phone vibrated against his thigh. It was a burner; he got a fresh phone for every assignment and didn’t keep a personal cell. A glance at the number told him exactly who it was. He lifted it to his ear.

“Make it quick, Doctor,” he said. “I’m onsite.”

“Well, hello to you too, Mr. Grouch!” Dr. Voster trilled. His mood further soured at her enthusiasm. “New phone again, huh? How’d you know it was me?”

“I memorized your number.”

“Because I’m your favorite?”

Omicron wrinkled his nose. “I memorize all my numbers. Don’t get excited.”

“You really know how to make a woman feel special, O.”

“Did you want something?” he asked, eyes on Delta as the man chatted amiably with the clerk. His nostrils twinged and he gave them an appeasing rub. “I’m busy.”

“Just checking in. How’s your nose doing?”

As if to answer, the tickle squirmed. Omicron snorted reflexively and rubbed more sternly against his sore septum.

“You’re calling at..” He checked his watch. “..1:15 in the morning your time to ask about my nose?”

“Your viral load should be pretty high by now,” she replied, sounding wide awake despite the hour. “I want to know how it feels.”

“It feels-” He’d been gearing up for a snarky remark, but it died on his tongue. Between one breath and the next something changed. His nostrils slowly flared, grazing his finger where it rested against his lip.

“… it feels?” prompted Dr. Voster.

To his credit, Omicron tried. “I-hht.. h’tzuh..”

But then his eyes flickered shut as he became entranced by that incurable tickle. It advanced slowly, enormous in his nose, lumbering forward and promising him a bounty. The swell would have intimidated him if he hadn’t been waiting for the better part of a day. He dropped his finger from his lip and braced his hand against the wall instead. If this was as big as it felt, he’d need it to stay on his feet.

“hUH-… ugh..” A sharp sniff, and a mutter under his breath. “..chhome on.. h-hh-!”

Fuck, it was oppressive. Omicron cinched his eyes tightly shut as he eased a breath through his tingling nose. It didn't hasten the advance, only threw gasoline on a raging fire. The tickle licked at his nasal nerves, which began to spasm in alarmed reply. Suddenly he was gulping down air, hitching so loudly it felt lewd.

“hah!hh.. uHH!h.. HUH-.. HUH-.. HUH-!”

The fire burned on, colossal and all consuming, demanding so much of him that his lungs filled to the brim. He could feel his head ratcheting by degrees, twitching back even when he could take no more air. If he could open his eyes, he’d probably see the shimmer of those fancy chandeliers. The tickle seethed for an agonizing moment. A quiet ache of pleasure twisted his gut. And then-

“WRRUZZSSSSHOOO!!”

Ecstasy.

“HHHH-!.. RRIHSSSSCH’YUU!”

It scraped through him thoroughly with a crack of throbbing relief. Dazedly, he hitched anew. In, in, in-

“h-hH-HH-” And out in one fell swoop. “HPT’ZSSSCHOOO!!..nnngh..”

Omicron thanked himself for the foresight of leaning against the wall. Otherwise he’d probably be on the ground, or at the very least staggering aimlessly as his sneezes tossed him around. His nose didn’t seem to know what to do, other than grant him another.

“HAH’DIZSSSH’uh!”

And another.

“HEH’YIIZSSCHOO!ohhh..”

He gasped for breath, the hand holding his phone routing to his sternum. He could feel his heart hammering, his chest heaving. Each time he sneezed, his abs clenched. And with each release, a cloying ache spread through his groin. He was probably erect by this point but-

“Hih-.. HIHBISSSH’YAHhh!”

He didn’t want to stop. Omicron breathed deeply into the tickle, feeling it paint the inside of his nose with a swath of sensation. Something speared into his sinuses - the probing tip of a paintbrush, a thin piece of twine, a fiendish little intruder intent on undoing him.

“IIH’TIZZSCH’iu!!”

His lungs emptied and replenished themselves with another single, flowing breath. Despite his light-headedness and unsteady legs, Omicron felt himself smiling.

“HHHH!.. EHJZZSSHUE!!’hhhooohh by god..”

It resonated pleasantly, like he struck his body with a tuning fork, and the trancelike need to sneeze, gasp, sneeze finally ebbed. The tickle receded, mollifying his nose in its tide. He could still feel it floating around in his sinuses somewhere, sated for now but impossible to fully satisfy. And of course his dick wasn’t satisfied in the slightest. His balls ached terribly. He’d had the good sense to arrange himself before entering the hotel lobby, fully aware he might find himself in this predicament in public. Again.

A voice spoke intelligibly, muffled against his shirt. Oh right, the phone. He put it back to his ear.

“What?” he panted.

“Did those feel good?”

He sniffled and fended off a full body shiver. “Don’d all sdeezes feel good?”

“Mm. Yeah.” Her tone was weirdly stilted. “Well. So. This is awkward, but I might have-”

Omicron tuned her out as he gathered himself. He was in dire need of a tissue, and he’d caught his own shirt in the crossfire of those last few sneezes. A quick scan of the room confirmed that just about every guest and employee saw him letting loose without even an attempt to cover his mouth. Many people were staring, including Agent Delta. The man was agog, but as Omicron stared back, he got the prickling feeling that it wasn’t him Delta was looking at. It was a second after that when he heard who exactly caught his superior’s eye.

“Bless you.”

He clocked the voice before he turned, which gave him a split-second to prepare his expression. He arranged a look of chagrined surprise and hung up the phone on a still-nattering Anita.

“Oh!” He jumped, and flashed a shy smile. “Thagk you.”

She was taller in person, with legs a mile long and hair falling in thick waves to her waist. She wore burgundy lipstick, accentuating the plush shape of her mouth. A voluptuous woman, her Bohemian ensemble framed her curves and flowed around her like a modern renaissance painting. Her jewelry spoke of wealth, her painted nails spoke of elegance, and her eyes concealed a careful fire.

She held out a pair of sunglasses. Mine, Omicron realized.

“You dropped these.”

He took them from her with a chuckle. “Ah, jeez, that’s embarrassi’g.” He sniffled and didn’t miss her swift glance at his nose. “I really mbade a spectacle of mbyself. Sorry about that.”

“Not at all,” she said. Her voice was dark velvet, soft and sophisticated. “I’m sure you couldn’t help it.”

Omicron juggled his phone and his sunglasses, keeping his eyes on her as he unearthed a half-empty package of travel tissues. He kept up his sniffling, in part for her benefit and also because his nose dripping onto his shirt was an imminent concern.

“Yeah, I’b kind of a mbess todahhy..” He tried to keep his eyes open even as they fogged with emergent tears. His voice scratched against a tender throat, tremoring around little hitching hiccups. “I do-hh!T huh.. don’t eved doe where th.. hh-hH!..mbghh, where all thad came fromb I-hhH!.. ndormally don’d sdnee-”

It overpowered him suddenly. He just barely rushed a tissue to his nose in time.

“hiH’TISsh’oo!” Back to the regulars, and just one didn’t quite cut it. Omicron huffed his way to a second. “..uh.. hck’KSSH’u!.. ugh..”

“Bless you,” she said.

That took care of the itch (for now). He wavered on his feet, fawn-legged from his earlier fit, and muttered a guttural “Pardod be” as he ducked away to noisily blow his nose. It took several tissues before he deemed himself presentable and by the time he got all the used ones shoved into his shorts pockets, he turned back around to see his sunglasses being offered to him again.

Omicron chuckled hoarsely as he took them from her. “I should probably start carrying a spare pair, at this rate.”

There was an amused tilt to her lips. “Perhaps.”

He shared in her smile until the pause between them stretched a little too long. Then he jolted into awkward conversation. “Ah, um- where’s my manners, jeez, I’m Nicolas.”

Nicolas Foster, his cover for this operation: an under-the-weather tourist in town for a destination wedding.

She inclined her head to him gracefully and held out her hand. “Josaline.”

Josaline Jewel, his target: business mogul of the fashion world with a clothing line, makeup brand, and lucrative designer bag collection all sold exclusively online. The agency suspected her of extensive cybercrime; Omicron’s job was to uncover any signs of money laundering, malware manufacture, or identity theft.

“I’d shake your hand,” he said with a self-conscious scrub of his palms against his shorts and another self-deprecating laugh, “but I’ve been sniffly all morning, I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” Again her gaze flashed to his nose when he wrinkled it with a sniffle. “Are you not feeling well?”

He sniffled again as he fiddled with his sunglasses, bashful. “I’m still hoping it’s the jet-lag, but it feels like I’m coming down with something, yeah.”

He punctuated this with a wrist swipe beneath his warm, chapped nostrils. They flared to caution him against further meddling. Josaline crooned in sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Doubt it, he thought to himself as he offered a warm smile. “That’s really sweet of you to say. Thanks.”

Omicron researched sneeze fetishes as thoroughly as he cased intel on Josaline Jewel. Operatives observed her engaging with unfamiliar men at industry events or galas, escorting them off the dancefloor and into private quarters. All these men had two things in common: they were shorter than she was, and they were at the time afflicted with sneezing. Though she didn’t seem deterred by illness, the agency lacked further details. To fill his void of knowledge, Omicron dove headfirst into a world of niche kinks; he read and watched a towering amount of sneezy content, some of it about fictional characters he’d never even heard of. But he left the experience a more educated man, enlightened and prepared to perform. Now it would be a game of discerning Josaline’s preferences.

“What brings you to town, if I might ask?” Josaline asked. She took a hesitating step in her peep-toe wedges and Omicron followed the cue to walk with her.

“A friend’s wedding,” he said, and it became obvious that his increasingly wet sniffles required maintenance. He sighed as fished around for his last clean tissue. “He’s an old college buddy, super nice guy. The wedding’s not until next week, but I had some time saved up at work and the flights were cheaper on weekdays, so..” Tissue acquired. “..I guess it worked out pretty well.”

“Do you enjoy traveling alone?” she asked, setting a sedate pace across lush carpet and spotless tile. “I find it invigorating, but it can be a little lonely now and then.”

He blotted gently at his nostrils. They fussed at the treatment, jerking and fidgeting against his fingers. Yes, that’s right, Omicron goaded. Tickle me. Go on. The virus humored him, unfurling and sauntering forward with ambition. Instantly his eyelids got heavy, and his voice grew heady.

“Oh, I couldn’t afford this place by mys-.. mys-hhelf..” He kept the tissue tucked to his face this time, muffling his voice and obscuring her view of anything but his fluttering eyes. “I’m hhuh-”

The tickle got to work, trailing feather-light fingers along his nasal walls. They writhed, trapped and helpless to the whims of a persistent itch. It stroked sensitive places, unhurried and secure in the knowledge he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. He tried to speak around the buildup, each breath a little blip or sigh he couldn’t repress.

“Ho, sorry, I’m rooHH-!.. uh.. rooming with another frihhend whose… als-uHH’h..H-H!”

He paused as the tickle escalated, now lounging indulgently as it guided him to a gasping high. Its approach was always rhythmic, an everlasting titillation that magnified as the tolerance of his nose diminished. Omicron shot Josaline an apologetic glance over the edge of his tissue and found her looking right at him. For the first time she lost composure, and hurriedly ducked behind a lock of her hair.

“.. Are you alright?” she asked, staring at the floor as they continued to stroll.

Omicron cringed through another playful swipe of the tickle, like fingers made purely of fluff skimming up the length of his nose. He gasped hugely, certain it would come, but then let it out on a near-moan. “..ohhh, sorry- it’s this cold, I-.. Iyyiieee..HH! iG’GZZSCHhu!”

It was a little stronger than he thought it would be. Instinctually he flashed a hand out and anchored his grip to whatever was nearby. The tickle gave him another long, firm stroke and his nerves begged mercy.

“HIH!PPSSHh’oo!” And another lancing tickle, like washing your car with a sponge, running your hand along a cat’s back, a frictionless glide but it was malicious in its softness and it agitated his nose into rebellion. With one hand, Omicron sealed the tissue more tightly over his nose and mouth. “MMPPHSssh!”

He emptied his remaining air in a desperate blow. His nose tingled with temporary relief. The single, brave tissue did its best, but he’d absolutely need to wash his hands and find another fresh package as soon as possible. Picking his head up, he balled up the trash and knuckled his nose with his fist.

“Sorry, that was gross, I’m-” Genuine anxiety prickled in him as he looked up and realized his other hand was clasped firmly to her upper arm. That was an accident. Omicron flinched away and clung white-knuckled to his disguise. “-SO sorry, oh jeez, I really didn’t mean to grab you like that, I wasn’t- I just, I had to sneeze and then it felt like it was gonna be a big one so I-.. guess I reached for whatever was around, I wasn’t thinking…”

Josaline stood and silently let him run out of steam. A molten heat pooled in her irises. A rose tint glazed her cheeks. She lifted her purse, an understated but expensive clutch with a golden chain, and popped it open.

“Not at all, Nicolas.” Her words melted from her lips. “I truly don’t mind.”

She slipped a swatch of white fabric from her bag and shook it. It unfurled like a flag of surrender, and she held it out with a coy smile. He lifted his finger once again to his nose to graze it just beneath his itchy nostrils and felt a telling touch of moisture. His ears flushed and her smile grew.

“Oh gosh, sorry, that’s..” Cupping one hand over his nose, he reached with the other. “Thank you, Josaline.”

Omicron took the handkerchief and paused when she didn’t let go. Their eyes met.

“I do hope this won’t be the last we see of one another,” she told him.

Just behind her, the elevator dinged. He blinked, only just noticing where exactly they were. She stepped back into the gilded lift, leaving him with her handkerchief and one last view of her burgundy smile. Then the doors closed. Omicron dropped his shoulders and blew a slow breath from his cheeks. Initial contact: not a catastrophe. Step two: arrange a serendipitous rendezvous.

Agent Delta appeared beside him. Omicron was certain he’d watched it all from a covert corner. He spoke softly, so as not to be overheard. “This is going swimmingly. Well done.”

Omicron ignored his heart’s little leap at the praise. He didn’t like to count chickens before they hatched. His mind raced to assemble all that he’d learned, the pieces of what intrigued her. “Thank you, sir.”

“Nicolas.” Omicron looked at him, and resisted shooting the man a withering glare when Delta brightly grinned and said, “Your nose is running.”

“Yes, thank you, sir,” Omicron snipped. “I’m aware.”

He tucked into the handkerchief. It was a balm to his sore nose after so many cheap tissues. The cotton was of superb quality, probably with a thread count higher than his bed sheets back home. Omicron nuzzled into it to snuffle and blow; seconds later, he realized with dawning dread that this was the wrong thing to do. For while this handkerchief was freshly laundered, it was also steeped with an overpowering perfume.

The tickle took umbrage with this. It bristled in his nose like a startled cat, sinking claws into his tender membranes and whipping its tail angrily against the sensitized border of his sinus. He couldn’t even suck a breath in before-

“Tssh! Ih’TSsh!.. HSH’u!” He ripped his nose away from the handkerchief, holding the cloth away from him with revulsion. “Hih’KSSh!.. h’KZSh’iu! Ugh!”

“Ooh, bless you, bless you.”

The handkerchief disappeared, and without any other options, he buried his nose into the prayerbook of his hands.

“IHPsh!.. h’PZSsch!.. fugk, ednough, plhHE- HH!BZSSh!”

“Bless you!”

At last it abated. He could imagine the tickle huddled far back in his nose, growling low as it continued to lash its tail. Omicron sniffled behind his hands and coughed from the effort.

“It’s impossible to say whether she doused this intentionally or not,” mused Delta, studying the handkerchief. He tried to pass the offending item back to Omicron, who shrunk away from it. He didn’t want it anywhere near his nose. “She couldn’t have known you were allergic.”

“I’b dnot allergic,” Omicron argued through gritted teeth. Delta gave him a look that plainly said, I don’t believe you, but I’ll humor you because you’re irascible and sneezy. Omicron fantasized about strangling him with a garrote.

They took the elevator up in silence. Delta passed over another package of tissues and Omicron plowed through several of them. More garbage to add to his pocket collection. He’d have to unload once he got to his hotel room, and used tissues weren’t the only load on his mind. His erection had yet to flag. It was easy to ignore during his conversation with the target, focused as he was on his work, but with nothing to distract him Omicron was getting tense and eager for alone time.

Which is why he balked when Delta tried to follow him into his hotel room. Omicron stopped just over the threshold. “Is this your room?”

“It’s our room.”

Omicron’s grip tightened on the doorknob. He’d been lying when he told Josaline he had a roommate. That was his cover story, yes, but not the actual plan. “I thought we were bunking separately.”

“I’ve reconsidered,” Delta replied, and while his tone was light there was a finality to his tone. “Sharing a room will reinforce our cover, and given this is your first high stakes case I’d rather stick close to support you on the ground.” He fixed Omicron with a pointed stare. “Unless there’s a reason you’d rather not share?”

Oh, you bastard, he seethed. You know what I’m going to say. Delta was already suspicious - giving him anymore ammo would just worsen things for Omicron. His hand slid off the knob. “Of course not, sir.”

There were so many reasons Omicron would rather not share a room with Agent Delta. He preferred solitude over company, silence over noise, and Delta was the opposite. The senior agent prattled about nonsense while awake and he snored very loudly while asleep. He hovered around Omicron all evening and compulsively blessed his sneezes and bullied him into watching crappy reality television shows. The hotel room was excellent, but small; there was no opportunity for privacy. The silver-lining was that there were two beds so they didn’t have to share.

After unpacking, discussing tomorrow’s plans, and sharing an array of delivery boxes from Panda Express while they watched some inane matchmaking show, Omicron collapsed into bed with a heavy head. All the congestion settled behind his eyes, and both nostrils were blocked as soon as he reclined. He jammed the charger into his phone with stuffy grunts of exasperation and then noticed the flurry of missed calls and text messages from Dr. Voster lighting up his screen. They were hours old, most of them berating him for hanging up on her and demanding that he call her back.

But it was late, he was tired, and surely by now she was asleep. He’d catch up with her tomorrow.

+ + +

Steamy hot water fell around him, sliding warm down his skin and thickening the air. Omicron tilted his head back. He hitched a single breath, and shuddered it out on a voiced sigh. “..huh..”

He braced his hands more securely against the shower walls and steadied his feet beneath him. He woke this morning with post-nasal drip and a too-big tickle in his nose. Just as Delta said before, it stockpiled power in his sleep and by the time he came to bleary consciousness, he could feel the itch in every nook and cranny of his respiratory system. It wanted out.

The tickle scuffled with his weary sinuses and his lungs snagged with a sharp gasp, “Hih!” and another slow, yearning sigh. “..hhuhhh..”

His prick throbbed and he brought a soaped-up hand down to grip the shaft. He was rock-hard, woke up that way, too muddled with arousal and tickling misery he could do nothing but stumble to the shower. Another grungy sniffle roused the tickle to action; it shimmied in the confined space, touching every nerve with its feathery borders. It was such an overpowering sensation that he couldn’t actually sneeze. Only suffer.

“h-H-HH!” Both he and the tickle waited, but to no avail. He deflated with a moan. “.. hhh-uuuhhhh..”

Omicron stroked himself, stepping forward to press an arm to the cool tile wall and lean his forehead there as he lost himself to the climb. Sneeze or no sneeze, he was going to come. Muggy air coaxed a dry cough, a snuffling breath, another flexing fidget from the tickle. It didn’t settle afterward, but instead began to twist and turn. Thrash and flail. His nose shuddered helplessly in the onslaught. Yes, yes, yes, chanted Omicron as his nostrils pulsed. That’s it. Tickle me.

He smoothed his thumb over his slit, arching forward. He panted hot breath against the sweaty tile. Water pounded down against his shoulder blades, muscles shifting beneath skin as the tickle wriggled and wormed against its prison. His nose frazzled at the attention, and Omicron’s parted lips flinched up with a little grin. He heaved with breath, whining his way through a monstrous buildup. All the while he pumped his hand at an increasingly feverish pace.

“..uh... hhUH-hh!.. HUH!’hh.. HAH-H-” His voice reverberated off the walls with obnoxious volume. The sound of wet skin squelching mingled with the patter of water on the shower floor. He gasped at the bolt of pleasure sparkling below his stomach. “-H-Hhh’oh-hh.. h’H-uhh..”

The arousal broke his momentum. He thumped a fist against the wall with an abysmally soupy sniffle. With warring sensations, neither could win. Omicron lifted his head to the shower spray to wipe his face and paused to chafe his index finger beneath his flitting nostrils. He slowed the rhythm of his other hand. You can do better than that, he challenged the tickle. C’mon, let me have it. He snorted, feeling his sinuses vibrate with the strain. Make me sneeze.

Wish granted. With a loss of sensation down below, the tickle rushed in to fill the void. It consumed him in an instant. Omicron inhaled as if the shower water suddenly turned to ice.

“HHHHH!! IIHDDZSSSCHHYOOO!!”

It was finally out, the start of what felt like a dozen. His whole body trembled, including his dick, and Omicron dazedly picked up the pace as his nose cramped with another powerful swell. Another butter-smooth gasp.

“HIIIIH!! EHTZZSSHHH’EH! Mmmbb-!”

A beautiful ache bled through his abdomen, mirrored in the tingling clarity of his nose. Fuck he didn’t know when Delta would be back from his morning run, but.. “nnnggh..HAAASCHHYUU!-uuooh..”

He’d never been a quiet man in bed and these sneezes were some of the best he’d had so far. His membranes twitched in relief each time, as did his prick, before another storm quickly gathered. Omicron instinctively sped up the tweak of his wrist as he rocked into each stroke. He wouldn’t last much longer; he’d been edged long enough. His flaring nostrils flew wide.

“h’YIZZSSSH’Iyuh!! hooh-.. hh.. H-HIISSCHH’OOO! hhhAH-!”

The orgasm hit like a truck. It rippled through him, wrenched him forward, and it would have been perfect if the shower floor wasn’t so damn slippery. As he shook his way through the aftershocks, the tickle snuck up on him.

“iiGGXSHH’TT- AAH-” Nothing about him was prepared. It exited roughly through his congested airways and upset his equilibrium. His feet went out from under him and rolling with the momentum spared him a concussion from the slick tile. It didn’t spare his pride however when he heard a voice from the other side of the door.

“Bless you, Omicron! You okay in there?”

Fuck, cursed Omicron, back flat to the tile as the shower pelted water into his eyes. When did he get back?

“Fine!” he barked back. The slip-scare soured what remained of his orgasm and the inside of his nose ached with raw exhaustion. He touched a knuckle to the tip. Before Delta could ask, he added, “I dropped the shampoo!”

“Well, be careful,” Amused, now that he knew his subordinate was alright. “Sounds like that nose of yours means business today!”

Omicron covered his face with his hands and sighed.

+ + +

Sunshine coated the simmering pavement. People kept their sandals on as they milled about for fear of burning their feet. Couples cuddled together in upholstered loungers around the pool’s perimeter. Loners relaxed with books on couches sheltered by giant, colorful parasols. A dual walk-and-swim-up tiki bar bustled at the far end of the pool, surrounded by wading, tipsy tourists. This was an adult-only area, so aside from the group of trust-fund college grads squealing and shoving one another off the diving board, it was quiet and classy.

Nicolas ignored wandering eyes as he maundered the water’s edge.

After his ill-fated shower, Delta informed him there was surveillance of Josaline Jewel in this area and it was time for a fated meeting. He’d put on a pair of colorblock swim trunks and a thin cotton cream shirt he left unbuttoned over a waxed chest. He was not a big man, but his work kept him toned. Defined abs, firm pecs, broad shoulders with muscles that rolled across his back when he moved. He’d use them all to his advantage.

Deep in his sinuses, the tickle swelled. His nostrils weakly complained and he hushed them with a quick back-forth sweep of his finger. He’d use this too, when the time came.

An arm draped over his shoulders, dragging him in for a chokehold hug. “The whole team should take a vacation sometime,” Delta said fondly. “This is fun.”

Speak for yourself, groused Omicron. Irked as he was to have Delta here, it would help his cover. Acting with a partner provided an opportunity that single performances couldn’t. Besides, jerking off in the shower took the edge off his temper, so Omicron weathered the affection without complaint. He only pressed an elbow to Delta’s chest when his own expanded with a fast-rising urge.

“G-Gonnaahh-” He hiccuped a hitching breath. Experienced now in dodging, Delta leaned away as Omicron pitched haphazardly into his opposite arm. “hih’DZSSS’ooh!”

“Bless you,” muttered Delta, and mercifully didn’t complain about the distinct lack of vampire-sneeze etiquette. Some of these sneezes just got away from him, no matter how slow or quick they came on.

They both paused for more, but after a couple uneasy breaths, none arrived. Omicron checked the damage: no shirt stains, a slight drink spillage but not on himself or anyone else, and Delta wasn’t caught by collateral. Insufferable as his senior officer could be, Omicron would perish if he accidentally sneezed on him.

Delta lowered his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. “See her anywhere?”

Omicron scanned as they walked, swirling his stemless wine glass before he took a sip. “Not yet.”

“Maybe she left before we got-”

“Hello.”

They whipped their heads to the left and there was Josaline. She wore the widest brim sun hat that Omicron had ever seen, black with a dramatic dip, and streaked with a white ribbon that matched the chic blacks and whites of her asymmetrical one piece suit. She still wore heels, toes painted to match her nails, ankles crossed. Her smile peeked at them from under her hat and designer sunglasses.

Nicolas roused himself and gave her a helpless smile, as if he hadn’t meant to stare. “Hi.”

“Were you looking for me?”

He fished a hand at the back of his neck, flushed to his ears, and Delta playfully tightened his grip. “Yeah, he couldn’t stop talking about you.”

Nicolas elbowed him with a hiss under his breath. “Harry!”

“I’m Harry by the way,” Harry told her, swooping in to offer his hand. Nicolas wrestled out of his hold in the meanwhile, straightening his shirt with a huff. Josaline raised a hand to her mouth to hide her widening smile.

“You must be the friend Nicolas mentioned. The one he’s rooming with?”

“Oh, he told you about me, huh?” Harry smoothed back his hair and waggled his eyebrows. “All good things I hope.”

Nicolas took another sip of his drink as they chatted, wrinkling his nose to one side and then the other. A quick, strong sniff flared his nostrils wide. He let the breath go on a sigh. Josaline tilted back the brim of her hat.

“Feeling any better?”

“Ndot really,” he conceded, then moved to sit across from her on an empty lounge chair. His shirt fell open to frame his sculpted chest and she curtly inspected the view. His pecs jumped with a brisk sniff, then another. He knuckled more aggressively at his nose. “But I’mb dnot gonna let it spoil mby vacation, if I can help it.”

Feeling lousy wasn’t actually a lie. Omicron woke up in the thrall of the tickle, yes, but when he had the ability to think afterward he realized he wasn’t at his best. His throat stung when he swallowed, scraped sore from all his harsh sneezing. His abs felt like they’d been through a ruthless core workout. And there was a disconcerting malaise settling over him, a woozy feeling that he refused to acknowledge in hopes it might just go away.

“Forgive me saying so, but should you be drinking in your condition?” she asked, nodding to his glass. He took a breath to reply but Harry interrupted with a booming laugh and an amiable slap to the smaller man’s back.

“That’s just lemon tea and honey,” is what he told Josaline and that was also true. He did lie to Delta about it just being a prop for his cover story though. In actuality, it took the edge off his aching throat. Harry carried on, unaware. “I told him to try a hot toddy but he’s a little goodie two shoes when it comes to nursing a cold.”

Nicolas narrowed his eyes, blinking as they began to glass over. All the while since he woke, the tickle in his nose continued to haunt him. Contrary to Dr. Voster’s claim to Delta, the sensitivity hadn’t diminished at all. He bodily turned from the conversation with his drink held far away from him. His other arm tucked snugly around his nose as he sucked in a shuddering breath. Then quaked in place.

“.. hik-.. iH-GZSShu!”

“Bless you,” chorused the other two.

He picked his head up by hesitating degrees before giving it a sharp shake. More sniffling, a thick clearing of his throat. His gaze darted to Josaline, who glanced away when he caught her looking. “Pardod mbe.”

“You know what? Try not to ruin my vacation either,” Harry griped at him, then looked to Josaline. “Nobody wants to get within five feet of me with him around. He’s like a walking cold medicine commercial.”

Omicron’s eyebrow twitched. “Well at least I don’d snore.”

Delta shot him a look that Nicolas met with innocence and a sip of his drink. Omicron shouldn’t push his luck, but he refused to pass up the chance to take pot-shots at Delta while he could get away with it. Josaline giggled.

“I can tell you’re old friends,” she said as she looked between them. “Do you see one another often, outside of events like this?”

This spiraled into deeper discussion. Delta and Omicron rattled off fake trivia to all her questions, and asked about her in turn. She was vague about her work but fairly open about her personal life. Almost all of it was useless small talk, aside from a compelling instance when she told them she created the software for her website’s security certificate herself. Her competency in coding wasn’t something Josaline Jewel advertised to the public.

Dr. Voster called him exactly three times during the chat, and each time he dumped her to voicemail. She knew he was working. Whatever she needed to ask him could wait, or ideally, be an email.

Soon the sun was past its apex and Omicron was running out of tissues. Mortifyingly, a passing poolside waiter brought him a little bin for him to toss his trash so he didn’t have to keep walking off to a garbage can. Over the course of their conversation Josaline’s attention gravitated squarely to Nicolas and both men took this as a cue.

Harry slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “Alright, I’m gonna check out the casino. I’ll catch up with you later, Nick.” He winked. “Have fun.”

Nicolas waved him off with one hand and tended to his unruly nose with the other. His nostrils pushed against his fingers, pulsing irritably. The tickle seemed to get worse over the course of the day, and his sneezes were coming with frustrating regularity if he didn’t waylay them. He tried to strike a balance between holding back and letting go, observing Josaline’s reactions all the while. She definitely wanted him to sneeze as badly as he did, which is why he chose to press the flat of his forefinger hard against his septum until the urge receded. He huffed away the gasp he’d gathered.

“.. huh-hh, sorry, I’b probably ndot great combpadny right ndow..”

He opened his eyes to find Josaline staring at him from under her lashes. She’d taken off her sunglasses some time ago. “On the contrary, I find you captivating.”

Nicolas laughed, ducking his head to cough. “Really? Thad’s a relief. I was worried all… this,” here he gestured to his nose, “would put you off.”

He punctuated with a sniff, the sound purely liquid, and rushed a hand to cup his nose while he tried to free the last of his tissues from the pack with the other. “Ugh, sorry-”

“Did you lose the handkerchief I gave you?”

Omicron feigned surprise, as if he hadn’t been waiting for her to ask. “Umb.. so-.. hah.” He scrubbed his finger under his nose, subduing his wavering nostrils. “I did use it, but I thig’k you had someb kinda perfumeb on it?..”

Her lips parted in shock, and Omicron knew at once that the scent on that cloth wasn’t intentional. Maybe it was a habit of hers, dousing her handkerchiefs in perfume, but she didn’t know it would actually make him sneeze. There was a faint, petal-like blush spreading across her cheeks and her thighs tensed more tightly together. Well, well.

Nicolas blinked wetly, as if the memory of the handkerchief was enough to make his nose tickle. Granted, literally anything was enough. “As soon’d as I-.. as I-yee…huh-” He blinked again, and again, each time a little harder and with more moisture in his lashes. With a swallow, he tried to hurry through the rest, “As I used ihht I.. st- st..”

He pressed a hand to his sternum as his chest jumped with a little sip of breath. The tickle fluttered in him, enticing. Omicron gave in for just a moment, letting his eyes fold shut, relaxing into the sensation of it. Sometimes the virus felt mechanical, automatic, indifferent to him and his reactive nose. Like a machine chugging ever onward, so did the tickle continue to toil. Tickling.. and tickling.. and tickling… Blind to his convulsing nerves, deaf to his snagging breaths, just carrying on with its function with no regard for the consequences.

Unable now to open his eyes again, Omicron spoke around compulsive gasps and breathed his words on the exhales. “hH!S’made be-.. h-HH!Bade be-uhhh.. snd’HIH!.. sdeehEEZZSSHOO!”

Nicolas snapped forward, sneezing over his lap, and belatedly raised a hand to his nose. It was running copiously. He wouldn’t get the job done with what was left of his tissues, unfortunately. He squinted against another hopeful tickle, begging himself now to keep it together. He really didn’t want to sneeze again like this.

A flash of white caught his eye. Josaline, her gaze boring into him with palpable weight, offered another handkerchief. He swallowed. It was identical in every way to the first, and Omicron suspected it smelled the same too. But this was what she wanted, and he was a professional. He would deliver.

He took it from her and began to unfold it with both hands to give her an uninhibited view of his face. As he began to wind up for another sneeze, he gave the tickle full control over every micro-expression. The fitful flare of his nostrils. The crease of his crow’s feet. His quivering, parted lips. The way his nose gathered grimacing wrinkles at the bridge when the urge became undeniable. His voice bled into his heaving exhales, unintentional but not unwelcome.

“H’uhh.. iIH!hhh..h-h-!hohh.. mbbggh..”

This was the worst part, when it crested to a peak but couldn’t quite get him high enough to tip him over. Throwing caution to the wind, he lifted the aromatic cloth to his face and breeeeeeeathed-

“KZZSSSCH!”

Rough, wrenched out of him in fury. As the methodical tickle gave way to a fierce burn, Omicron had just long enough to wonder if Delta was right: he might actually be allergic.

His eyes rolled closed and he shuddered helplessly into the handkerchief. “iih’TZSsh!” A tight breath and then, “iik’KISHH!... hd’IZSSH!.. Tshh! it’TZSH!”

There wasn’t time for anything else. No wavering gasps, no bleary moment of respite before the next volley. It was a quick trigger release, too itchy and ineffective to do anything but wind him. “-DSSH’uu!.. hd’DZSSH’oo!! ohh..HH!”

He heard Josaline stir in her lounge chair, and then felt the jostle of his own when she sat down beside him. A hand smoothed up and down the line of his spine, pausing to feel his back expand with a single, catching breath.

“-ig’GEZSC’Hoo!.. GZSShuu!.. Chshh-IH’chzssh!.. HIH!chzsch! Ugh!” He finally managed a shaky blow into the folds of the handkerchief. A couple desperate hitching breaths and then he quickly committed to another. It cleared away most of the mess; he was able to free his nose for air.

His eyes were still locked shut, but he could feel his nostrils twitching like a rabbit’s. Rushing a finger beneath them did nothing. He sneezed against his hand. “iihpssh!... h’TZschh!h- hIKssh!! TIZSSCH’u!”

It felt endless, and nothing like the big, bad wolf sneezes that the tickle cooked up. No, these didn’t help anything. Each sneeze just somehow itched him more. “..hah-..hh.. hH’ZSSCH’yah!”

He nearly lifted the handkerchief back to his face and caught himself at the last moment. Loathe as he was to do it, he used the collar of his shirt instead. He had nothing else. Omicron lifted the corner to his nose, his nostrils so warm to the touch they felt feverish, and muffled what he could.

“MMFZSSH!.. hg’ISHH!..” At least it was slowing down. He sniffled, feeling muzzy, and finally cracked his eyes open. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He closed them again with a jumpy, “hih- IH!-..MMPHZSSH!!”

Omicron waited, tense, for the next one. It sizzled in his sinuses for a solid few seconds before dissipating in a wave of prickling dismay. It left his nose wary, on guard for the next attack, even as the virus insidiously labored away inside him. His shirt was a lost cause, so he shrugged it off and used it to blot at his face as he snuffled and hitched his way into presentability. Holy hell, that was more than he bargained for.

“Bless.”

A touch alighted on his bare arm. Nicolas picked his head up, squinting through puffy eyes and already cringing with apology. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I thigk I mbight be allergic.”

“Yes, so do I,” she breathed, and smoothed her touch to his back again. Without his shirt in the way, her palm glided up and down his skin. Her other hand thumbed a tear from the corner of his eye. “You poor thing.. I didn’t realize that’s what you were trying to say. Forgive me.”

They were both lying to each other now. Nicolas shook his head, both his hands coming to hold one of hers. “Ndo, ndo, it’s ndot your fault! I couldn’d explain itd well.” He gave her a pitifully tearful smile. “Had to sdneeze too bad.”

The tone shifted. Omicron could feel it keenly. Josaline squeezed, then let them go. Her hands lifted instead to cradle his cheeks, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I need to confess something.”

He blinked at her, wide eyed. “... Codfess whad?”

“I’m not the sort of woman to be repelled by all... this,” she said softly, with an equally soft graze of her thumb against one of his chapped nostrils. It flared in response, and Omicron fended off the visceral need to rub it. Josaline stroked him again, and his nose twitched away from her. The tickle bristled and he leaned out her hands, racked with fittish hitches. He jammed his finger beneath his septum, barely catching himself before a sneeze tumbled out.

She watched him avidly as he battled back the urge, one eye squinted shut in a lopsided wince. Her attention honestly flustered him; Omicron never liked attention when he sneezed, and her gaze in particular stripped him bare. He lowered his finger reluctantly, and kept his hand hovering at chest level. The sneeze was stalled but certainly not gone.

He sighed his words. “S-uh.. Sorry, I-.. hooh, I bight.. I-ihhm godda-HH!” He wiped his head to the side. “iih’DZSCH’iew!! ugh, b’sorry..”

Her voice wavered. “Please don’t be sorry.”

“I-hhuh.. hkrrm!” Omicron cleared his throat, bringing the edge of his shirt up to his nose to blot and then, with great disgust, blow. He was going to burn this thing when he got back to his room. When he finished he looked away from her, painfully embarrassed. “I’m seriously so gross right now, I’m sorry-”

“Nicolas..” She slid a hand up his arm, splaying her fingers on his shoulder. Her other arm came around to rest at the juncture of his neck so she could toy fingers at the short, fine hairs on his nape. “I want to be clear. I’m not put off at all by your cold. Frankly, I think it looks very good on you.”

He frowned at her as the gears turned, then perked up when they slotted in place. “.. Oh!”

Josaline smiled wide enough to show her teeth, humming a little laugh. “I would like to kiss you. Is that alright?”

She drifted into his orbit as she spoke, her smokey stare flicking between his eyes and his lips. He nodded, and met her halfway. As their mouths met, she tugged down the brim of her hat to hide them from view. They kissed behind a black veil, his hand reaching to cup her jaw as she pushed a palm up the plane of his bare chest. With his nose so completely packed, Nicolas gulped air between passes of her tongue and chuffed soft, stuffy breaths against her skin.

Something about Omicron. He was suited to his job in many ways, one of which being his attitude toward infatuation and sex. Romance made his skin crawl, and physical intimacy was to him nothing more than a nice dessert. Delicious? Yes. Mandatory? No. He desired sex as much as he desired bubble baths or a night at the opera. He never let it distract him from his mission, even when at times it was his mission. It was a point of pride for him.

She eased him onto his back, kissing him deeply into the plush of the lounge chair. The new angle wasn’t great for his nose, shifting congestion in his head like tetris blocks until he whimpered against her lips. She finally let him up for air and he heaved in a breath, snuffling squeakily and then coughing when the air bottled up in his sinuses. He belatedly turned his head, and flushed up to his hairline.

“- guh, suh-sorry,” Nicolas whispered, his voice gravelly. “Can’d breathe through by dose at all.”

“Stop apologizing,” Josaline whispered back. She nudged the tip of her nose against his, nuzzling him even as she bit down on his lower lip to mumble around the flesh. “Can I help?”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before her tongue was back in his mouth. It was dark beneath the shade of her hat, with bits of sunlight dancing through the weave. While it was no mystery what they were getting up to under there, it was as subtle and as tasteful as public displays could get. She leaned more of her weight against him, pushing the planes of her palms up the span of his chest until he made another pleading sound.

Again she leaned back by an inch and again he tried to catch his breath. His nose fizzed with a wicked tickle. Sinuses immobile. Couldn’t agitate his nose with air. It would have to be something else, another method..

A bolt of inspiration struck.

“Josah-H!.. Josalind,” he mumbled. She was passing time sucking a bruise on his neck. “hah.. Josalind, cad you-”

She blew a puff of cool air over the patch of wet skin and smirked as he shivered. “Can I what, baby?”

“Hhhelp,” he gasped, and arched when she laved her tongue over his collarbone. His neck was sensitive, and Omicron resolutely continued even as he arched his back. “I’ll breathe better if I cad sdneeze, bud.. huh..” He sniffled in vain. The attempt ended in another disappointed cough. “.. id won’d combe.”

It was like he said the magic words. Josaline lifted her head and refocused her attention on his nose. It looked pitiful, so raw from rubbing and snubbing that the skin shined a brilliant red. His nostrils flared like a beacon, irregular but frequent. Nicolas gazed up at her, blotchy and half-lidded. She skimmed her pinky finger up the bridge of his nose, watching his eyes fall closed and his brows crunch and his nose wrinkle up beneath her touch. She sighed, besotted.

“I can certainly do something about that, but I’m not sure I should do it here,” she murmured. Fingers threaded through his hair, scritching lightly at his scalp. “I have things in my room-”

He slivered his eyes open. “Whhee.. cad d..” They fluttered closed again as he breathed, breathed!... And then sighed out a groan. “-ohh..We cad go to your roomb-h-H!.. hiiff you w-wand.. but..huh-”

Unable to help himself, one of his hands routed from her waist to his nose to grind beneath his throbbing nostrils. Just enough to take the edge off so he could finish what he was saying. His entire expression scrunched as he worked his nose, but he plowed onward.

“..I usually don’d ndeed buch,” he clarified. “Jusd thinking about id is edough to.. to…” He dropped his hand and snatched in a gasp so deep, his chest lifted Josaline where she lay across him. “HHHUH-!” But nothing came. He growled, his first real display of frustration in front of her. She comforted him with another rake of her fingers through his hair.

“Truly?” she asked, and when he fought his eyes open to look at her she seemed awed. “No.. external stimulation at all?”

Omicron knew of the methods to which she alluded, but Nicolas didn’t. He gathered his eyebrows together. “.. Ndo?”

“How do I help?”

“You cand just talk.” He anchored his hand back to her waist, his gaze glassing over. “About how buch id t.. tiihckles..”

She pressed her lips together, her cheeks beginning to darken. “.. could you demonstrate?”

Not the response he expected. He figured she’d want to take the lead, but Omicron was nothing if not flexible. “Yeahhh..h!IH-.. I usually thig’k about fhheathers or.. flowers or.. sombthig like..” He closed his eyes and conjured an image. “Like a little bug, crawli’g around up there.”

And just like that, it’s what the tickle became. Small, at first so unobtrusive as to be barely of notice but over time the irritation compounded. Omicron hauled in a hearty sniffle, coughing for his trouble, but the endeavor cleared up some of his consonants.

“It doesn’d know what it’s doing, but it’s tryi’g to escape and the luhh.. lohhnger it searches the.. huH!ohh.. the mbore unbearable it becomes.”

He could feel it zipping about, uncaring and unaware of how it stirred his haggard nose into motion. As it scampered along the length of a nerve, the membrane flushed and quivered. As its glossy wings grazed the tender pink walls, they shuddered. Another sensation pulsed further down; heat began to pool into his abdomen.

“And it’s tiih.. tiHII-!ckling mbe, but it doesn’t know that and I can’t tell it to stop and at this p-hhoint I don’dH! wantHH!- hhihht to..”

The little presence adventured in the wrong direction, into more sensitive depths, so deep in his nose he didn’t know it could tickle there. Omicron moaned at the honeyed ache in his groin. He desperately wanted friction, but common sense kept his hips welded to the lounge chair. He felt the tickle flutter, then flit, and then begin to panic. It realized this wasn’t the exit.

“Ahhnd th-then.. it starts freaki’g out. It’s buzzing all around and maki’g my ndose itchier and itchier, and I’m st.. start-HH!h’ingHH!!h-to.. IIH!”

Omicron imagined the wet, cavernous expanse of his tortured sinuses, every inch of it undulating in agitation all because of one little tickle. And that tickle persevered even now, darting around in the abyss of his nose unceasing. A smile flickered across his lips as another pang of pleasure swirled through him.

“.. and I just want it to keep..HHHH!” He huffed a momentous breath and his chest jumped under her hands. Words carried on his pining exhale. “.. -want it to mbake mbe-HHHHH!” Tingles trailed down his spine as he uttered the last few words in a high, airy voice. “.. make mbe snhheeze… HHDZZSSSCCHH’OOO!!”

Sparks popped behind his eyelids and Omicron moaned helplessly through a wave of carnal delight. He didn’t come, but the sneeze was paradise. He hitched gratefully up to the next one in line. “HH! HH! HHHH-” Something billowy and soft tucked over his nose and he pitched into it. “EH’JZZSSHHH’IUU!”

He groaned into fabric, stretching restlessly on the lounge chair as his cock twitched again. It was confined to the tight pressure of his swim trunks, a problem Omicron couldn’t think clearly enough to solve as he huffed and puffed his way toward another humongous sneeze.

“-ah.. haH.. HAAASZZSSSH’UE!” And still his nose craved more. Who was he to deny it? “-iihHHIIZZSSHEW!! mmbb..” Once they started, they felt too good to stop. “.. uhTZSSSSCH!!iuuhhhhh..”

Omicron keened, muffled by the cloth snugged over his nose. The break afforded him a chance to snurfle into its folds and reach up to brace his hand over the one that held it there. Deep in his nose, the tiny intruder buzzed brainlessly against nerves flayed raw. They were defenseless, vulnerable and so, so very sensitive. His chest rose and fell with an increasingly staccato rhythm, his expression frozen with need. He needed t-to.. He hhhad to-!

“ehhHPBBZSSCCH’IIYUU!”

He seized into the cloth and collapsed back to the chair. Heat surged through his veins, wondrous but left wanting as his erection strained against the front of his shorts. But at last the attack on his nose abated; the tickle retreated to the dark, hidden place where it liked to bide its time. Omicron mustered through a long, alleviating blow into the sturdy fabric. Sinus pressure dissipated from behind his eyes, just enough to take the sharpest edges off his encroaching headache. Then he just laid there panting and steadying his hazy vision when he finally opened his eyes.

He noticed a few things.

Nearly everybody in the vicinity was looking at him, sunbathers and staff members alike. Josaline was not an exception. Her hand rested lax in his, where she’d held his shirt to his face as he sneezed. And blew his nose. And he had a visible erection, blocked mercifully by Josaline’s position to the wider crowd but absolutely not hidden from Josaline herself. And for the first time, Omicron thought, Oh shit. I might actually be compromised.

“Um-..” he squeaked. All he could hear was a rushing noise, like standing in a wind tunnel, his heart banging against his ribs. Cold sweat broke out over his skin. “Um-..”

Josaline was similarly speechless. Paralyzed, even.

Did she not like it? Was it the bug thing? Fuck, he should have gone with pollen or something, that was more mainstream or at the very least, comparatively less weird. What was he thinking?! He thought this ‘sneezing untouched’ method might entice her, but a hell of an idea that was. Dr. Voster and her ridiculous pursuits. ‘Sneezing by suggestion,’ his ass. Now he was sprawled out here on display with a cock harder than diamonds and he’d just blown his nose into his shirt and practically into her hand-

Don’t panic, he counseled himself through shaking breaths. This is salvageable. Just play it off with a laugh, apologize for everything, then tactically retreat, regroup with Delta, fess up, come clean, apologize AGAIN-

“I-I’ll go,” he said, barely present as he gathered his shirt and held it in front of his crotch to stand. “I’m really sorry, very sorry about this. I just… um..”

Delta will be so pissed that he’ll take me off the case and the agency will put me on probation and I’ll be sorting files in the office for the rest of my career and they’ll never let me live this down, I’ll be the laughing stock of the force, I’ll-

A hand caught his wrist. He looked down and there was Josaline, coaxing him with soft, careful touches to sit back down. She smoothed hair off his sweaty brow.

“Relax,” she told him. “No one knows. They only looked because you were loud, and nothing more.”

If she meant that to be reassuring, it didn’t help. Everybody and their neighbor just watched him obnoxiously sneeze and moan for what might have been several minutes. So much for subtly, which was his entire job description as an agent. He was a disgrace to the force. Omicron buried his face in one hand, elbow propped on his knee. Nebulous plans to cut his losses and find a new job stalled at the sound of her chuckle.

“And didn’t I tell you to stop apologizing?”

He shrunk inward, painfully embarrassed and hissing a whisper into his clammy palm. “Yeah, but that was-”

“It was incredible.”

Omicron snapped his head up, blinking the blur out of his eyes. Josaline’s flushed cheeks and smile came into focus. She scooted closer to him, pressing her bosom to his arm and tucking her head in the crook of his neck. She raised the edge of his shirt, still piled between his limp hands, to dab beneath his nose. Omicron startled, recognized the feeling of something wet on his upper lip, and lost what remained of his composure.

“Could I not be a disaster for just five seconds? Please??” he demanded of the universe, of the virus, of anyone, and turned his head away to clean himself up without help. Sniffling and scuffing his nose prompted retribution. It tickled like a dangling string. Omicron ducked forward. “..h’HIDZssch!!”

Josaline swayed with him and pressed a kiss to his throat. She trailed her lips up and up even as he rushed to wipe his nose. “Listen, Nicolas,” she said against the corner of his mouth. “There is something else I need to confess to you. I want to introduce you to someone.”

Omicron’s nostril wrinkled as it was bestowed a kiss. “.. intro..hh.. duhhce me to someone?”

“Yes.” Silken breath glossed over the bridge of his nose. “To my husband.”

Everything grinded to a halt.

It was a good thing she expected him to be floored by that news. Husband? Husband?? The word echoed around in his head, immaterial; he couldn’t grasp the concept. There was no intel about a husband. Nobody mentioned a husband. She’s married? How can she be married!? His eyes jerked to her left hand, bare of a ring. She followed his gaze with a charming smile.

“Neither of us wear one,” she explained. “We married for practical reasons, and we aren’t interested in exclusivity. He and I consider ourselves free to explore as we like.”

She’s… married. The fact churned sluggishly in his mind, untethered and unexpected. She’s married. So..

“..uhh..” Omicron contributed intelligently. “Uh, s-so.. huh-”

Oh for fuck’s sake. He fought tooth and nail to keep his eyes open, watching Josaline bite her lip as the last sliver of light disappeared. Now the tickle was just kicking him while he was down. It snagged him by the lungs and hurled him forward over his lap.

“-eHTCHZSS’hoo!”

“Bless you,” Josaline purred, stuck to him from shoulder to hip.

Omicron tucked his fist beneath his nose with a couple convalescing sniffles. “-nguh, thagk you..” Another sniffle, sharper, and a crinkling blink to disperse the dark spots floating in front of his eyes. “So, you want me to.. meet him?”

“While my husband and I have similar tastes,” she continued delicately, “we find it more gratifying to seek pleasure with others than with one another. However..”

Here she guided him to look at her with a single finger to his chin.

“.. very rarely, one of us will meet someone special. Someone who would please us both. Together.”

This conversation was going at light speed while Omicron was still floating in space. He nodded, buying himself time, trying to gather more than just the word husband. So his mortifying sneeze-fit failure was actually a success, to the extent that Josaline wanted him to meet her husband, who also had the hots for sneezing? Presumably? Possibly? But wait, nothing in the files ever mentioned a husband, so that meant this was a secret husband..

“Do you understand?” Josaline asked. “What I’m proposing?”

Ménage à trois, his strategic mind supplied. Ménage à trois with the suspected cyber criminal’s secret husband.

Suddenly, and Omicron truly didn’t know how, everything was turning up aces. Not only did he have intel on a secret husband but he’d get to meet the guy. Talk to him. Learn more about Josaline through him. Find some incriminating indication that she actually was a white-collar mastermind screwing thousands of people out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. And then he’d get his ass kissed by everybody at head office and they’d crown him King of Spies and give him only the coolest assignments henceforth. Maybe he’d get a fancy company car.. or a commissioned self-portrait in a tuxedo.. or..

Omicron jolted, as if coming awake from an impromptu nap. Shit. He rubbed both hands over his face, dismayed when they came away sticky. The humidity must be getting to him. Moist air always made him groggy.

“Nicolas?” Josaline looked a little uncertain now.

“I’d love to,” he blurted, then ducked his with a sheepish sniffle. “Ah, I mean.. if that’s-.. if you’re offering..?”

“If you’re comfortable?” she asked back. Nicolas nodded, maybe a little too quickly because his head felt like it was on a string five feet in the air. Josaline broke into a toothy smile, reaching to smooth thumbs over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. “Really?”

“Well, I-... as long as you’re both okay with it,” he replied. His nose creased at the bridge when she nuzzled the tip of hers to his. Omicron hiccuped a breath, and huffed it against her lips. “I-hhah..”

“Dinner tomorrow night,” she promised him, watching avidly as his expression contorted. Omicron squirmed his nose in a bid for it to behave, but Josaline wasn’t having it. She kissed just beneath his nostrils as they flared against her own. Lurking in the recesses of his sinuses, the tickle emerged. “I’ll ask him.”

Then she sealed her lips over his as he contended with the damage in her wake. His nose felt full of fuzzy bits, and with his nose as his only source of oxygen, Omicron was forced to keep stirring them with air. Each inhale swept them in a wind, sending them spinning against every inflamed atom of his nerves. They moved deeper, joined by more, an escalating infestation drifting deeper into his sinuses until he was dizzy with it.

“mmm!” he hummed into her mouth. Both her hands sunk into his hair, holding him still, keeping him locked to her lips as the tickle grew and grew. He sucked a hitching, shaky sniffle that whipped all the fuzz into a storm. Omicron whimpered again, higher and sharper. “-MM!”

Only when he set hands on her shoulders did she part from him with a soft sound, and even then she did it reluctantly. By now Omicron was lost to his gasping ascent. “hih-..hIH!h.. IHT-!” On the cusp, he whirled to the side and rocked with a perfunctory, “-DZSHH’iew!!”

She draped her arms around him, tugging him into her side as he fussed with his nose. Nicolas topped backward with her to the lounge chair. “Bless.”

“Ugh, thagks,” he snuffled and shifted in her arms to see her better. “Had to sndeeze, I’m sor-”

Josaline pressed a finger to his lips to silence an impending apology, and when she was sure he’d gotten the message, she trailed her painted nails along his bottom lip. “It’s a date, then?”

Nicolas smiled. “It’s a date.”

/tbc!

I know what happens next, I just have to write it! Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck around for part 2, I really appreciate you!💗Hope to see you again at part 3 ^w^

PART 3 IS HERE!

#snzblr #snz #snz kink #snz fic #snzfic #scatterfic #snzfucker #original characters #omicron verse

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

Text

I'm right here! (Oscar Piastri)

People seem to forget you're dating Oscar

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: jealous themes

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Do you think this will translate as well on the track though?", Phil, the head of the engineering department, asked as you showed him the latest set of data.

"Even with the interval we've set for changes, these numbers show it could improve performance, especially in race pace", you pointed to the calculations on the side.

"We would only have it for Miami, though", he reasoned, "we don't have enough time to get this done for Shanghai and I don't think it would be wise to test this in a track we haven't raced in five years", Amelia argued as you nodded in agreement, "but it looks promising - good job, Y/N", she patted your back.

"Would you feel comfortable talking about it in the meeting with Zak, Andrea and the mechanics? You have been the one working the most with this, makes sense for you to be the one taking point. Lando and Oscar should join you as well - I think they're doing something on the Sim", William mused.

"Absolutely! Yes, Oscar said he was driving a new set up and strategy Tom also wants to discuss in the meeting", you offered with a smile.

"Having insider information makes this easier - I don't have to check every single e-mail and wonder about things, especially Oscar's schedule", Amelia chuckled, rubbing your shoulder before she got up.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room, you set your laptop up so the latest data would be seen by everyone as you spoke about the changes, "we don't think nor expect this will be ready for China, but we're hoping to have the new package in Miami already - gives us enough time to work on it and the track there is ideal for us to have an idea of how this could play out for the rest of the season", you concluded.

"I agree - I think China will be damage control racing and we're accepting it as it goes", Andrea stated.

"We just need to get going with these then and also get the guys to try it out on the- Oh! Speaking of the devil", Zak chuckled as Oscar and Lando stepped inside the meeting room.

"So that's that, I think - thank you for all your work and let's hope we can bring some points next weekend", the British driver said before everyone scattered out.

Closing your laptop and getting your tablet, you held them against your torso so you could go and set them back to your station before lunch. You didn't make it very far as Oscar stood just outside the room, his hand snaking up your back carefully as he didn't want to startle you.

"Good morning, love", he smiled, kissing your cheek and walking with you.

"Morning, Osc", you kissed his cheek back, "how was training?", you wondered.

"Same old - went for a run this time, though, it was nice enough outside", your boyfriend offered as you reached your desk, tidying it a little bit before leaving to get some lunch, walking hand in hand.

You didn't expect to fall for a driver, especially after the relationship you had with Lando. You behaved like siblings, often pranking eachother, and it had helped you grow more confident around him and the senior staff when you felt you were all but a small intern. Over the years, you grew more comfortable as your ideas and pitches would get considered and tested, finally feeling like your place was well earned and that at the right time, the development would come to bring McLaren to the top where it belonged.

When Oscar joined the team, however, you didn't expect to feel the way you felt about the Australian driver. He was handsome, very shy and very kind and thoughtful as he sat all through the meetings as you explained the changes. Jeopardising your career was something you didn't want to do, but after some not so careful touches and glances, the team assured you it wouldn't be an issue in case you and Oscar were to pursue a relationship together.

"Here's my favourite team-mate! And she brought Oscar with her!", Lando joked as you sat at the same table as him.

Swatting his neck playfully, you sat down next to him so you could face Oscar as he put his tray down, "I will revoke new updates package from you and you'll be stuck in the midfield", you taunted before you started eating.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place? I need to sort a few things out still this afternoon, but I'm hoping I can leave on time today", you squinted your eyes.

"What do you mean on time?", Lando quirked an eyebrow.

"Yesterday, she got so caught up in the calculations, I barely got a text out of her when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me", Oscar chuckled as you held hands on top of the table, playing with his fingers, "what was it you texted me? 'I'm having a breakthrough' I think it was", your boyfriend offered.

"I did, though! Amelia checked it over and we might be onto something - I have to go to Race Base this afternoon so they can check them out", you shrugged your shoulders."We're spending the whole afternoon in the sim", Oscar checked with you, "when you get off, then we can leave together - how does that sound?".

Coming back to your place after you stopped by the supermarket, you set the bag on the counter and pulled out all of the ingredients you bought to make sure the dinner would be suitable and appropriate to Oscar's plan.

"I haven't had a proper cuddle today", Oscar pulled you to him, beggining to litter kisses on your forehead all the way to your cheeks and jaw, "I can't ever do this at the center", he mumbled against your neck, tickling you.

"We could, just where there are no other team members", you giggled before cupping his cheeks, "which happens to be nowhere most of the time", before you kissed his lips.

"I'm going to start working on the chicken", Oscar said after you stole a few kisses, "are you going to be in the Center for the race?".

"No, I'm travelling with the team", you smiled as you took the fresh pasta out of the bag, "which means we can spend more time together - and people will actually see us together", you mumbled the last part.

"People know we're together, love", he smiled, cutting up the last bit of garlic and tossing it in the pan.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it - they didn't see me in Jeddah and the rumours flew out of control", you wiped your hands on the kitchen towell before hugging Oscar's back, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You know how the media works - they see the smallest hint to something they want to see and then they're there", he offered, taking one of his hands to squeeze your hip, "you're the one here, aren't you?", he tsked.

"Where are you going?", Oscar asked as he saw you grab a tablet and push the chair back under the table, "I thought we could have some time together now".

"The stewards picked out eight cars at random to get checked over a few components - Mike and Barry are waiting for me", you offered, pecking his lips quickly, "hopefully they're just not messing around with our schedule because everything is supposed to be how it is!", you smiled before you started to walk out.

"I'll go with you, then", your boyfriend assured, "can't have you go to the wolves on your own when you can have company, beautiful".

Oscar walked up to the building with you, kissing your temple before you stepped inside, "I left some data from the sprint for you to look at, and tell Lando I also left a file for him with his tire deg - I told Will to do it, but he might forget!", you alerted before letting him go.

Knowing how long it would take, he went back to the McLaren garage, stopping whenever fans snapped a couple of pictures or autographs.

By the time you were back in the hotel room after the sprint and qualifying, Oscar went to the bathroom so he could have a shower, leaving you to lay on the bed and scroll through social media.

You looked at the photos the media team had posted, along with the stories where you could spot yourself in the background and spotted a few comments as you flicked through the carrousel of pictures, the comments under it weren't something you hadn't seen before.

Hear me out, Oscar and Elaine are the perfect match

I know, right? 😭 honestly, they need to get together! They would be so cute together

She's so polite and put together, but I get rhe vibe that she's really shy too, they would be perfect for eachother

Are we forgetting Y/N? aka Oscar's girlfriend

I still can't believe the people at the top have let their engineer date a driver

Y/N's way too out there, I call PR relationship

She couldn't even build a great car, I'm not sure why you would defend her

She was literally the reason the car and the turnaround last year and we started getting podiums?

These have been the best 12 months in terms of development, what are you on about? Just because she's with Oscar, you can't dig at her like that

The last few comments don't come up too often, but you had to admit it was nice when they did even if they did nothing to the way you felt.

The green eyed monster took over more times that you'd like. You work with numbers, probabilities and direct correlations, so it was hard to miss the reason behind how you were feeling.

"Why are you looking at your phone like that? You promised you wouldn't work once we got back to the room", Oscar warned, using the towell to dry his hair before he looked at you again.

"I'm not working", you mumbled, locking the phone and setting it on your stomach, pondering whether or not you should talk to Oscar about this.

"That long silence tells me that there is something bothering you", Oscar began, "I'm not saying you have to talk about it right now - I won't force you to -, but I'm here for you when you want to do it", he offered earnestly.

"I'm jealous of you and Elaine", you stated, earning a quirked eyebrow from your boyfriend.

"Me and Elaine? The communications' intern?", he looked for some clarification.

"Yes!", you answered loudly.

"We don't - I don't even spend that much time with her, what do you mean?", Oscar asked.

"I know you don't, but people online seem to think you should! First, it was that actress that McLaren invited for Abu Dhabi - the weekend where Natalie and Naomi kept approaching us because they wanted to chat and there was actual visual proof we were together after all the rumours -, now they're saying how you should go out with Elaine!", you admitted, "they're all saying you really should have someone and that she should be the one to go, that she has all the qualities you should look for and I-", you took a big breath in, "I'm literally over there, every single day of the races - in the garage, sometimes in the pitwall!", you stated, "I barely do any races from the Center anymore, so it's not like people forgot that I exist!".

"Love, I'd never do that to you - you're the only person I care about like that", Oscar replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone when our relationship is public - I'm there, I see them, they see me!", you let a tear fall down your cheek, "there's only so much I can do to make it obvious, Osc!".

Oscar sat down next to you on the bed, throwing the towell on the floor for the moment so he could pull you to face him.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much, I don't even notice all of that", your boyfriend craddled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall and looking into your eyes.

"I never told you and I know you don't read all of the comments", you reasoned, "I just thought it would stop at some point! Everyone keeps saying that you should have someone and I want them to think I'm that someone - because I am!", you said bitterly.

"Is there something you'd like me to do? That would make you feel better about it?", Oscar combed your bangs away and behind your ears.

"What can we do anyway? Have you walk around with a t-shirt that says "I have a girlfriend - Y/N, the engineer"?", you scoffed.

"I will do that if you think it will help - throw in a headband with "Y/N's boyfriend" too if it helps!", he tried to pry a smile out of you.

"Don't be silly", you playfully shoved his chest before holding his hands in yours, "I honestly have no idea what to do, but I know I want it to stop without putting our jobs on the line", you pouted.

"Maybe an Instagram post from us then? Something chilled but serious enough so anyone can get the hint - and I wouldn't mind arriving into the paddock with you in the morning", your boyfriend suggested.

"Oscar, I have to be there way earlier than you need to", you argued.

"Then I'll be there earlier, I'll have breakfast there with you and we'll spend more time together in front of everyone - as much as you feel comfortable with", Oscar offered you an assuring smile, "I don't want anyone else the way I want you, I don't love anyone the way I love you, Y/N".

Smiling at the honesty and safety he was transmitting you, you kissed his lips, starting with small pecks before one last long kiss, letting your foreheads touch as you pulled away, "thank you, Osc, I love you".

The next morning, reporters were surprised when they saw the McLaren driver show up in the paddock so early, his hand laced in yours as they asked a couple of questions.

"My girlfriend had to come in earlier, so I thought I'd join her and see a little bit of the preparations", Oscar replied before you continued to walk to the McLaren hospitality.

"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?", Anna asked after her usual morning greeting.

"He's always with me at work though", you squinted before giggling, "but I really need people to know he's mine and that I'm here!", you half joked.

#oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fluff

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shiftinglea · 1 year ago

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Death doesn’t exist.

Interestingly, in order for me to accept that I was the creator of my life, I had to learn more about death. It was a missing puzzle piece that allowed me to remember that I am God and can manifest whatever I desire.

But before that, I was quite doubtful about my ability to create. I would persist and believe (or try to anyway), but underneath all that, I had this encompassing fear of failure. Fear that by the end of my life, I would still not have succeeded with my manifestations. Fear of dying in regret and disappointment for not experiencing the life I desire.

And I thank my soul for guiding me to the book “Home with God” by Neal Donald Walsch, which allowed me to remember that there is no death. This book is a dialogue between the author and The God (aka the source of everything). When I was reading that book, it didn’t feel like I was learning something new. It felt like remembering something I already knew.

And in this post, I’ll be sharing information about death from that dialogue. Obviously, it’s your choice to believe it. But I would recommend you not listen to your mind. Listen to your soul; it speaks to you through your feelings. Intuition. Allow yourself to FEEL the information I’m sharing. Do not use logic for that; it’s quite limiting. So here we go:

Learning about death allowed me to stop fearing dying in regret and disappointment, which then produced confidence in my manifesting abilities and feeling at total peace every single day. There is nothing to be afraid of. Why? Because death doesn’t exist, and this is what I mean by that:

When people speak of death, they mean the end of life. But your life never ends. It’s the physical body that dies, and then at that moment, you discover that you are still alive. You keep on existing just in a different form. Death is simply an experience of leaving 3D and entering another dimension. And what’s the most fascinating thing: it’s different for everyone, or the experience of it is more like. Same with your life in physical form: it’s different for everyone depending on your beliefs, perception, and assumptions. You choose the experience of your life (consciously or unconsciously). The same with death: you choose your own experience of it. But what’s the same for everyone is that “death” has 3 stages.

The first stage is the same for everyone. “In stage one, at the moment of your death, you will instantly experience that life has gone on. This will be the same for everyone. There could be a brief period of disorientation, as you come to realize that you are not with your body, but, instead, are now separate from it.” During this stage, you realize even though your body died, your life hasn’t ended. For most people, it will be the first time they realize that they aren’t their bodies. The body is something you have. It’s not what you are. And then you move into the next stage.

The second stage is where everyone’s experience is unique depending on their beliefs about what happens after death:

• If you believe in reincarnation, for instance, you may experience moments from previous lives of which you have no previous conscious memory.

• If you believe that you will be enfolded in the embracing arms of an unconditionally loving God, that will be your experience.

• If you believe in a Day of Judgment or a Time of Reckoning, followed by paradise or damnation for all eternity, you will experience being judged and the judgment will turn out exactly as you imagined it would.

• If you died thinking that you deserve heaven, you will immediately experience that, and if you think that you deserve hell, you will immediately experience that. Heaven will be exactly as you imagined it would be, as will hell. If you have no idea about the specifics of either, you will make them up right on the spot. Then, these places will be created for you that way, instantly. You may remain in these experiences as long as you wish.

What’s important to know is that there is no Hell. But you can create hell for yourself if you choose to or believe that’s what you deserve.

However, you won’t stay there for one moment longer than you choose to. The moment you decide that you are done experiencing it, it’s finished. The same with Heaven.

Everyone remembers in the 2nd stage that they create their reality: in the physical and spiritual. In the physical realm, our creations may be delayed. But in the spiritual realm, our manifestations are instant. So you can experience whatever you desire for however long you wish. You can relive your life again or create a new one and enjoy that life for however long you want, and it will feel as real as in 3D. So during the 2nd stage, souls remember that they create their experiences and it’s instant. When they are done experiencing their creations, they move to the 3rd stage.

During the 3rd stage, you experience Ultimate Reality, which is merging with the Essence (God/Creator of all). You are enveloped with the infinite source of love and peace. You become one with The Creator. This is where you came from. It’s pure void. You are a pure being.

Every aspect of itself, every “good” and “bad” trait the soul thought it had is being absorbed by the Creator. It melts all shame, pride, fears, every character trait and leaves the soul with a beautiful emptiness. Experiencing nothing but Oneness. “Now you are merged with this Light and you feel dissolved. This “melting” completes the change in your identity. You no longer identify yourself in any way or at any level with the separate aspect of being that you called “you” in your physical life.”

The most fascinating thing is that you can experience the merging with everything during your physical life. This is what the void is for. When you reach the void state, you merge with Oneness where creation is instant.

During the 3rd stage of death, you can stay merged with the Creator for as long as you desire. But you won’t stay there forever because that’s it’s not what you desire. Because if you stay forever in this pure bliss and ecstasy, you would stop identifying it as “bliss” and “ecstasy”. Because there is nothing else there. There is no opposite of that. So you will desire to recreate yourself anew and choose your next physical incarnation because that’s the only way for you to experience your own magnificence.

The purpose of death is to reestablish your identity and to help you remember who you really are: One with God, an infinite source of creation. The purpose of physical life is to experience this knowing.

I want to point out the importance of your system of beliefs because they shape your life and your death (during the 2nd stage). You are constantly creating your reality. In physical life and after that. Some people think different rules apply in death (or in life). But no, it’s the same rules, the only difference is that your creations are instant after death. But again, they can be instant in your physical realm if you choose to believe that you can create instantly. It’s all about your beliefs and assumptions.

For most people who aren’t into LOA and don’t know that that’s are creators of their reality, their “death” will be the moment of remembrance that they are indeed creators. That they never stopped creating and they will see it clearly. But they don’t have to wait until death to experience themselves as God and creators. You can do it in physical life. It’s always your choice. You shape your life in physical and your life in spiritual.

For me, knowing more about death allowed me to stop feeling anxious about whether I’ll manifest my dream life before I die. The fact is that I never die, I just change my form. Life is eternal. It’s the body that dies. But you are not your body. It’s something you have. It helps you to experience wonderful things that you have chosen to experience.

#loa tumblr #loassumption #void state #loa blog #neville goddard

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kaxela · 2 months ago

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✰ kuroo tetsuro as your tutor ✰

⊹ ࣪ ˖ your classmate kuroo, was willing to give you his wisdom on how to ace an exam ; 📝 comfort n' fluff SFW "how do you pass an exam? easy, just talk to the cute boy in your class."

a/n ugh, sry if this story isn't good. i just wanted to write something (about my man). heh. not proofread.

your homeroom teacher noticed how your score was getting way too much marks than usual. your bad performance could be from stress, difficulty, or just life kicking your ass. you obviously wanted to better transform your academics. the first solution that was offered to you was to attend actual afterschool tutoring. however, you explained how you had no one to take you to the lessons. your teacher then came up with a simple plan B and that was to sit you right next to kuroo tetsuro. you're not sure why teachers do this. they sit the failing student next to the a+ student and expect the magic to happen.

from a surface level, you knew that kuroo was an athlete. specifically, nekoma's reowned volleyball captain. he's labeled as mature, smart, and some girls in your grade have a crush on him.

💬 first impression.

the following day, he placed you right next to him. you were observing to why this guy is top of the class. nothing seems out of the ordinary with this man until he opens his mouth:

"yaku, you know if you eat a watermelon seed. it'll grow inside of your stomach?"

"i'm not a kid anymore, i'm not falling for that blatant dumbass lie." yaku snares right back at him.

kuroo leans his chair towards him, pointing to yaku's head. "are you sure it just didn't grow in your head? your head is massive."

yaku immediately hits kuroo's head into his desk. he hysterically dies of laughter as yaku curses under his breath. you were so shocked watching this all enfold in front of you. you admit, it was a little funny.

perhaps kuroo isn't a bad guy though because soon right after their fight, he kept apologizing to yaku and begged him to talk to him.

but. . .is this dude really the top student in your class.

✶⋆.˚ life saver.

you were spaced out in class. you had lack of rest the other night, all you can think about is falling asleep. your class was going over a reading on biology, but information just went in one ear and out the other. in your peripheral vision, you begin to notice multiple raised-hands fly up in the air.

you suddenly hear your name being called out. crap, your teacher must have picked on you because you were the only one not raising their hand.

you stand up awkwardly and smile. your teacher then asks,

"so. which form of cellular respiration produces the most ATP?"

you feel all choked up and flip your page back and forth hoping to get a last minute clue. suddenly, a hand appears on your book. kuroo, highlights with a marker on a piece of text of what you believe to be the answer.

"aerobic! aerobic cellular respiration." you answer, and it was correct.

you sit back down and sigh in relief. you curl a smile on your lips and whisper thank you. his spiky dark hair covered his eyes a little, but you saw how friendly and warm his gaze was towards you. he couldn't help but to mirror a smile right back at you.

"anytime."

✎ᝰ well acquainted.

it went from saying hi to each other every morning, sharing your school supplies, and to studying notecards together. i guess your teacher's plan really did work.

you were walking down the hallway back to your class because you forgot something in your bag. when you got there, you were surprised to see the man you see every single morning.

he was sitting in his lonesome. his posture was well fixed, with his palm resting on his chin. he was scribbling away on his paper. (most likely some really smart equations or well-written notes). you think to yourself how handsome he really is. i guess it isn't too taboo why so much girls find him attractive.

you go up to him and tap him on the shoulder. a little startled, he flinches.

"ahh, hey you." he smiles, his pen stops moving and he turns his head to have his full attention onto you.

you sigh and pull a chair to the side to sit next to him. as expected, you peer over to see a lot of work done on his paper.

"tell me your secret, kuroo." you crook your head to the side, "how do you study and understand? i'm not smart like you so-"

kuroo furiously shakes his head to your self-deprecating comment. he releases the pen from his grip. he puts his fingers on his chin as if he's pondering.

"you're passionate about your interests, right?"

you nod in attune.

unexpectedly, kuroo leans his body towards you. the eye contact you had with each other was unwavering. this honestly made you so nervous. your breathing hitches a little, but you try to make it steady.

"find passion in doing the hard work, it will eventually pay off. your body and mind are supposed to be in cohesion within one another, okay? so don't be your own enemy. my next advice is that you can take deep breaths, it'll maximize the functionality of your brain."

kuroo leans right back into his seat. "so, you're fine. just breathe. besides, you showed me your score on your last test. you got most of them right. i'm proud of you."

as soon as he mentioned 'just breathe' you swear he noticed you being all nervous. you move a strand behind your ear and smile once again. you feel as if your heart was swelling up with joy. he’s right, you were improving. it's mostly thanks to kuroo's support.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

bonus read: (perfect if you wear glasses)

you and kuroo were studying in the library together. your table was coupled with a lot of papers, textbooks, and some drinks from a nearby convenience store to keep you guys going.

as you were examining the text, you couldn't make out what was printed. so you take out your reading glasses and everything became much more coherent. kuroo immediately takes notice of you in glasses. he thought you were so pretty. you exuded intelligent, yet an elegant energy.

kuroo stares at your face intently. you look right back at him and push your glasses up on the bridge of your nose.

"do i look different or something?"

"yeah, you look so pr-can i borrow those frames for a second." kuroo nervously chuckles.

you swear you heard him say something else, but you shrug it off. you hand over the pair to kuroo and he places it on his face.

you didn't want to say anything at all, but your face probably gave it all away. he was so. damn. good-looking. the black frames just complimented him all too well. he needs to start wearing glasses more . . .

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

the first thing that came into his mind is how glasses oddly reminded him of tsukki.

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #fluff #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x you #atsumu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #fanfiction #my man my man my man #raw raw raw or whatever lady gaga said #nekoma

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eliteseven · 3 months ago

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BG3 Drabble Request: Drunk Tav

Pairing: Shadowheart x (named)F!Tav

Summary: After drinking with (and defeating) Thisobald Thorm, an inebriated Tav returns to camp and shares a few intimate moments with Shadowheart as she cares for her.

Tags: Romance, fluff, humor, angst

Words: 4.7k

Original request below:

For NLS, I've always been impressed with Tav being able to hold her alcohol when drinking with Thisobald (If you pass the checks) but what If she got him but got absolutely smashed in the process then started to have a fun and honest conversation with Shadowheart or your take on a very drunk Tav around Last Light Inn; just something that occurs to me every time I go through this part of the game. Thanks ?

:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

“Easy, soldier.” Karlach gently lets Tav down from where she’s supporting her shoulder, allowing her to walk on her own fully.

They’ve just made it back to camp after a run in with none other than Thisobald Thorm, in the depths of the Waning Moon brewery.

In fairness, Serena held her own.

Really.

She’s no stranger to drinking, and while imbibing is certainly part of any seasoned soldier’s skillset, that foul liquid has finally taken effect, with considerable delay.

Drinking an undead entity to death is certainly a new victory that she can add to her ever growing list of oddities masked as accomplishments.

It kicked in about two thirds of the walk to camp, to be exact, when Serena began to sway with each and every step forward.

Karlach, bless her, noticed immediately- it was hard not to, when Serena nearly walked right into her chest while trying to keep their line single file.

“M’fine.” Serena hums happily as she claps her hands together rather slowly, and then pats Karlach on the back several times, for her efforts. “Thankyou, Karlach.” She slurs slightly, and covers her mouth before she hiccups.

Karlach grins. “Any time. Looks like it’s just getting to the good part.” She advises. “Any grand plans for the evening, Tav?”

Serena looks deep in thought for a moment, and Karlach smirks, wondering just what her response will be.

After a passing minute, Karlach realizes that there won’t be a response- Serena’s already dazed out, in the direction of a purple and black tent, with gold embroidery.

Karlach’s smirk only deepens. “....I have a feeling I already know.”

“Yes, let Shadowheart deal with her nonsense.” Astarion sniffs from behind them as he does away with his armor.

“Heart.” Serena smiles at the name, murmuring it to herself as she sets off mindlessly towards the tent, forgetting entirely about Karlach, Astarion, Thisobald Thorm, foul liquor, and most anything else.

“Should we stop her?” Wyll muses from somewhere behind Serena, slowly taking off his armor piece by piece, as well.

“...nah.” Karlach shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

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Serena falls into Shadowheart’s tent.

She doesn’t intend to- it’s really more of a stumble, anyway, but she ends up going right through the flaps and very luckily- into Shadowheart’s lap.

“What in the nine hells do you think you’re- Tav?” Shadowheart blinks as she freezes, prayers interrupted, knelt in the middle of her tent, and now supporting the weight of her…person.

(She and Serena haven’t exactly solidified their relationship, Lady Shar wouldn’t approve, but it’s no secret the two are entirely enamored with each other).

“Hello, Heart.” Serena mumbles the words rather gracelessly, but incredibly fondly, and she gathers herself with less elegance than she normally would as she takes her weight off her.

“And just where have you been?” Shadowheart lifts a manicured brow to accent the inquiry. “You…what’s that smell?”

“Beer…arguably. And innards...” Serena informs her, tilting her head in a curious fashion, similar to the way Scratch does. The slow flutter of her lashes as she takes in Shadowheart’s face in the candlelight says it all: Serena is inebriated.

And not with any old beer, by the looks of it.

“...Should I even ask how? Or why, for that matter?” Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose as Serena studies her lips intently, her question nearly forgotten.

“Thiso-”, hiccup, “-bald Thorm. Then he perished.” Serena adds with a frown. “...All over me.” She pouts, as if it’s simply a minor inconvenience, and she isn’t wearing his remains.

Shadowheart just blinks.

After all, why would she expect anything even resembling normalcy, with this group?

“...Naturally.” Shadowheart mumbles finally, taking in Serena’s state. “You need to bathe, Tav.”

“...Naturally.” Serena mocks, slowly turning the word over a clumsy tongue, and Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but it’s curious, seeing her so…helpless. Everything seems to amuse her, and she bears none of the usual anxiety she normally does in such close proximity to Shadowheart.

“Do the others know you’re…” Shadowheart waves her hand, narrowing her eyes. Someone had to have brought her back to camp; she hardly looks capable of navigating in her state.

“Yes! …Karlach carried me.” Serena grins. “So warm.” her head lolls backwards as she stares at the dark peak of the tent, mind clearly drifting elsewhere.

“I can imagine.” Shadowheart snorts. “I’ve feigned an injury or two for a ride on those shoulders.”

“And I pretend to have injuries so you’ll touch me.” Serena admits with a snort of laughter; she finds this endlessly amusing once more, and she giggles softly.

“Oh.”

Shadowheart freezes; she’s unsure which to address first- Serena’s egregious statement about feigning injury for more of her touch (egregious only because she and Shadowheart have been sharing a bedroll more often than not), or the fact that Serena’s giggle is so sweet and innocent, and she’s never heard it before.

Serena is clearly a happy drunk, and Shadowheart finds the corner of her lip twitching upwards anyway, despite the state she finds her lover in.

Serena looks younger, somehow, smiling to herself in the darkness. The furrow lines on her brow are not present, nor the lines that set in when she scowls from the near constant stress of shouldering the group’s various strifes.

She looks positively unbothered by her own admission, though Shadowheart just knows she’ll be mortified if she remembers any of this tomorrow.

“And you came to me?” Shadowheart murmurs, this time, there is less edge to her tone.

“Well…you didn’t accompany us today.” Serena frowns. “You haven’t, lately. It’s awful. Gale doesn’t look nearly as pretty in armor.” It sounds like a cute quip, but Serena’s gaze belies the fact that she’s being deadly serious.

Shadowheart snorts out a laugh, caught off-guard. Her cheeks burn with a blush that Tav cannot see, and she’s all the happier for it. “Is that all you get from my company?” Her tone is airy, teasing and light.

Serena frowns at the statement. She opens her mouth to protest vehemently, but hiccups again, sighing deeply.

“...Charming.” Shadowheart deadpans.

“You never come anymore.” Serena sighs, rubbing her temples as if she’s dealing with a matter of life and death.

“My lady demands that I focus my efforts on-”

“-Ah, yes, your lady…” Serena drawls, and it’s abundantly clear she’s mocking Shadowheart.

Shadowheart scowls at the obvious show of heresy and disrespect. Serena usually has more tact, when referring to Lady Shar in any capacity in front of Shadowheart.

“Watch yourself.” Shadowheart grits. “Just because we’ve built a rapport, it doesn’t mean I’ll take lightly to your transgressions.”

Serena blinks, and Shadowheart realizes she’s not at all present. Shadowheart sighs; it isn’t worth the fight- not when Serena hasn’t an inkling of what she’s saying. She should know better than to argue with someone so clearly intoxicated.

“I’ve missed you, that's all.” Serena mumbles, more in the way of a dejected child than a lover scorned, and Shadowheart’s lip trembles slightly at the honest admission.

She’s missed Tav, too.

She can’t succumb to her feelings- she can’t let Serena crumble walls she’s put up for the better part of her training.

So Shadowheart does what she does best, and deflects Serena’s attention away from any hope of having a truly intimate conversation.

“And here I thought soldiers could drink with the best of us.” Shadowheart remarks dryly instead, despite how her heart still pounds at Serena’s admission.

Serena shrugs helplessly. “I think…” She drawls, licking her lips. “I think…I drank poison.” She tastes the words on her tongue, shaking her head. “It glowed.” she smiles at the word, remembering the way the residue would shine off the side of the tankard.

“...just what we needed.” Shadowheart mutters, and she swears, she’ll have words with whoever allowed Serena to undergo such an idiotic series of events. They need her at her best, not slurring over every word and laughing at nothing at all. “Now, go and bathe.” She demands, thrusting a spare cloth and towel into Serena’s hands from her storage trunk.

“...It’s cold.” Serena whimpers, and Shadowheart is inclined to agree; it’s freezing, and the state of the Shadow-Cursed Lands does little to help the fact, devoid of light and wrapped in a never-ending blanket of night as it is.

“You’ve Thorm-innards on you.” Shadowheart points out, lip curling in disgust.

Serena laughs, a pretty, melodic sound that has Shadowheart reeling for a few seconds afterwards.

Shadowheart’s eyes narrow and she rests a hand on her hip. “You find this funny?”

Serena only laughs harder, dabbing at a tear forming in the corner of her eye, swaying slightly in her laughter. “Yes!” She heaves. “I even wore my best oils for you, this morning.” She throws her hands up at the hilarity of it all- but in truth, she chooses everything based on Shadowheart’s reactions. “And now…” She looks at the mess upon her armor and sighs, letting out a few errant laughs, still. “Blood. As usual. It’s always blood.”

Shadowheart has often secretly admired Serena’s meticulous attention to her appearance.

Her clothing (what she can scrummage from their travels, at any rate), her hair, down to which scented oil she uses after bathing- (Shadowheart prefers the jasmine scented vial, she’s noticed).

She tries, despite the mess they find themselves in the middle of, to impress Shadowheart.

Shadowheart doesn’t know whether it’s sweet or foolish, but she finds her heart tripping over itself at the gesture alone.

She wonders if she was ever the object of someone’s affections like this- let alone someone so sweet. If she was, she certainly can’t remember them now.

“...Perhaps I can help you clean up.” Shadowheart murmurs gently. She glances at Serena’s elated gaze, and shakes her head. “-after all, I wouldn’t want you to drown.”

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They find themselves in a secluded corner of camp, where the sandy banks meet the surrounding lake, and its placid sheet of darkness. There are no stars in the evening sky- the moon does not grace them with its glassy reflection above the still water.

Shadowheart wonders why the darkness does not calm her as it should- Shar gives her a painful lashing for the thought, and she quickly drops it.

She should be at home here in the constant night, comfortable in the depths of the murky black water.

Shadowheart seats herself atop a rock, a safe distance away from the water. She much prefers bathing beneath the waterfall, on solid land. The shore steeply declines after several steps, and her fear of swimming prevents her from taking that risk.

Serena, however, doesn’t seem to mind as she strips away the last of her tainted clothes, shivering in the relative darkness.

About mid-way through removing her tunic, she pauses, glancing at Shadowheart bashfully, as if suddenly remembering her presence.

“...Go on, then.” Shadowheart nudges her with a few soft words.

Still, her breath catches in her throat when her eyes fall upon Serena’s bare and muscled back, bearing several scars from her time in Cormyr’s military. Shadowheart’s eyes drop to a shapely rear as Serena nearly trips over herself trying to take off her trousers and remaining undergarments.

Shadowheart has to give her credit; she hadn’t realized how poised Serena typically is. She carries herself with all the regality one might come to expect from a former Patriar, but with none of the entitlement, stripped away from her time at war.

Drunk Serena carries none of these qualities; Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but she finds it strangely endearing.

“You’re staring.” Serena slurs slightly.

Shadowheart lifts a brow. So she still has some of her wits about her.

“You’re shivering.” Shadowheart counters.

"...do you like what you-"

“Yes." Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose, hoping it will finally spur her into action. "Now, please, get in the water before you fall ill and I have to tend to that, as well."

Serena obliges, stepping into the water and gasping as she lowers her body beneath the surface.

Shadowheart watches with a keen eye; if Serena disappears beneath the surface, they both might meet the end of their journey prematurely.

She realizes now that she might not have been the wisest option to watch over Serena in this state, in a body of water no less.

But Serena trusts her implicitly; she came directly to her, despite being at odds with Shadowheart about her faith. Serena, who has carried her from the heat of battle with a goblin’s arrow protruding from her back. Serena, who brings her night orchids in the cover of darkness because Shadowheart refuses to entertain her affections in front of the others, despite how obvious it’s become to everyone near.

Serena is alone, just as Shadowheart is alone; her closest kin is her mother, way off in the kingdom of Cormyr. Shadowheart has the cloister to return to, eventually. Serena will find herself alone still in Baldur’s Gate, should they ever make it to their final destination.

Shadowheart tries to swallow the feeling down; Serena is temporary.

Lady Shar is permanent.

“Here.” Shadowheart beckons her forth, tilting her head curiously at the way Serena covers her chest with her folded arms, shivering still. “I’ve already seen you, Tav.” She snorts in amusement.

Yes, she and Serena have never had sex, but their shared intimacy is nothing to scoff at. They’ve bathed together, healed and tended to each other, and have pressed gentle kisses to bare skin. They’ve slept together- in the truest sense of the word, waking in each other’s arms.

“Oh.” Serena seems to remember these moments, and a wicked blush sets in on her cheeks. “Right.” She drops her hands awkwardly to her sides, and Shadowheart’s breath catches in her throat at the sight of her bare chest, stiff from the icy water.

Just because she’s seen the soldier and felt her every now and again, it doesn’t mean she can ever grow accustomed to how breathtaking she is.

“Uh-uh.” Shadowheart slaps her hand away as she reaches for the soap. “You want this done quickly? Allow me.”

Serena drops her hands almost at an almost comical speed, and Shadowheart cannot hold back her soft laughter.

Serena’s eyes go wide at the sound, and she smiles, rather stupidly, but Shadowheart’s chest flutters violently all the same. She comes to stand in between Shadowheart’s dangling legs as Shadowheart’s fingers run through her hair, scratching softly at her scalp.

Serena’s eyes close, and when a sound akin to a purr is drawn from her lips, Shadowheart is relieved that she cannot see her smile, wide as it is. Serena’s fingertips slowly come up to rest on Shadowheart’s thighs, and before Shadowheart can berate her for her wet touch, she realizes Serena is attempting to steady her.

It’s all the more endearing when Shadowheart realizes that she is the one swaying, but she reaches for Shadowheart, hoping to calm her by the water’s edge, so aware of her fear of swimming.

A grin finds its way to Shadowheart’s lips, and she shakes her head at the sorry sight before her.

“This…” Serena slurs, never opening her eyes. “...is nice.” She whispers gently, and Shadowheart sighs, wondering for just a moment what a shared domestic life might look like, between them.

Shared baths, shared bedrolls- no, a bed- making meals together, reading awful novels aloud together, taking long walks in lands that are not cursed by the shadows.

She hisses as burning hot pain shoots along her arm, and she recoils sharply.

Serena’s eyes open, and even in her slow and addled state, a frown begins to bloom on full lips as her eyes find Shadowheart’s wound, flaring with purple light.

Shadowheart glances away, fumbling instead for a cloth to busy her aching hand.

Serena manages to finish bathing without sinking to the depths of the lake.

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“-and you let her?” Shadowheart folds her arms as she eyes Astarion, waiting outside her own tent as Serena uses it to change into her camp clothing, now bathed and still disoriented.

“Well, it was either drinking or stabbing.” Astarion shrugs. “Seemed simple enough, really.”

“-Stabbing.” Lae’zel chimes in from across camp, where she sharpens her sword and smirks proudly at her noise pollution.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Lae’zel is right.” Shadowheart snaps. “That would have been the correct decision.”

“According to whom?” Astarion snorts, affronted. “We managed to kill the…ah…fellow…all by his own concoction.” Astarion sniffs. “...Which smelled foul, by the way.”

“I’m aware.” Shadowheart retorts.

“And she volunteered-”

“She always does!” Shadowheart’s eyes narrow. “It’s Tav, she has no sense of self preservation-”

“-Well then perhaps you ought to ask your dear Lady for permission to come, next time.” Astarion quips. “Might be more useful than all those prayers.”

“You know nothing of faith, Astarion-”

“Shhhh.” Serena emerges slowly from Shadowheart’s tent- hair wet, not a speck of dust or dirt on her, in her fresh camp clothing. “My head….” She groans.

“How are you faring, Tav?” Wyll asks from his tent, staying clear of Shadowheart’s blazing path of destruction.

Serena’s eyes narrow, and she thinks for a moment, blinking slowly. “If…the inn is right there…” Serena points to the silhouette of the Last Light Inn in the distant fog. “Why…do we sleep…here?” She waves around.

Wyll opens his mouth to respond, but Karlach barks out a laugh that draws their attention. “…she’s not wrong.” Karlach points out mildly. “Might’ve taken her a tenday to get the sentence out, though. Whatever you drank, soldier, it did something to you.”

Serena’s stomach grumbles loudly and she stares at it in clear offense.

“We’ll finish this later.” Shadowheart snaps in Astarion’s general direction, though he’s already retired into his tent for the evening.

“I await your return with bated breath.” Astarion retorts lazily.

“You.” Shadowheart turns to Serena, hands on her hips. “You need to eat.”

“I do?” Serena looks bewildered, and Shadowheart sighs, taking her hand and tugging her along towards the campfire, where Gale is hard at work preparing supper.

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“...Won’t you eat?”

“Tav, I told you, I’ve already eaten.” Shadowheart lets out a puff of laughter in quiet exasperation. It’s the third time she’s offered since sitting atop the log they occupy, a stone’s throw from the others and far enough away that Shadowheart cannot chew them out for allowing Serena to end up in such a state.

“Oh.” Serena glances at the bowl of stew as if it offends her. “ s’not very good.” She finally mumbles.

Shadowheart notes how candid Serena is when she’s drunk; she had no idea how often Serena bites her tongue.

“Accustomed to grand feasts in your grand dining hall?” Shadowheart teases gently.

“…yes.” Serena shrugs casually, completely missing the dig.

“I’ll be sure to extend your sincere thanks to Gale.” Shadowheart deadpans. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous.”

“Whatever for?” Shadowheart scoffs. “…truly, it can’t be anything worse than what you’ve endured today.”

“For...whatever comes next.” Serena admits with a simple shrug, sighing deeply as she slides off the log and slumps against it instead, head resting by Shadowheart’s knees.

It’s a simple statement- and almost doesn’t seem at all profound, until Shadowheart realizes the anxiety brewing in Serena’s chest is real. It is the same anxiety that finds her in her hours of sobriety, without a drop of liquor in her, Thorm-brewed or otherwise.

It is the same pervasive anxiety that threatens to taint and darken all of Shadowheart’s thoughts- what will become of them?

How much more can they endure, suspended in uncertainty as they are?

Serena does not often give voice to her concerns- she buries them deep within herself. She knows the group looks to her to be the voice of reason and logic- for reasons unknown to her entirely.

Shadowheart knows this burden of isolation; at least she has her goddess.

Serena has sworn herself to no deity; she faces her thoughts alone.

“Why don’t we discuss something else?” Shadowheart murmurs instead, resting a gentle hand on Serena’s shoulder.

“Hmm…” Serena rests her head backwards against the log as she sighs, and Shadowheart eyes the scar on her lip intently. Perhaps, had she known her then, when this wound was first inflicted, she could have prevented such scarring with a healing touch…

…Though she’s not at all opposed to the slightly rugged look it gives her.

“...Are you excited? To be going home?” Serena muses aloud.

“The cloister, you mean?” Shadowheart asks with a furrowed brow.

It’s strange to think of the cloister as home. Shadowheart can hardly remember most of her time there, save for her training.

“Mmm.” Serena’s confirmation is more of a hum, than anything else.

“I am…eager to serve my Lady.” Shadowheart answers quietly. “In any way she requires of me.”

“...don’t wish to hear of your Lady.” Serena snorts.

Shadowheart scowls. “Well then you should-”

“-you, Heart.” Serena prods, and her voice is so tired, so innocent, that Shadowheart’s ire melts away at the sound. “...I want…to hear more about you.”

Shadowheart sighs, and Serena’s request aches deep within her very soul. “I’ve told you all I can remember.” she reiterates.

This is hardly the first time Serena has taken a vested interest in learning more about her; she takes in every detail with an amount of care that’s difficult to fathom.

Shadowheart knows the wisdom of Lady Shar, now- one long gaze into those amber eyes, and she would tell Serena everything, if she could.

Her Lady protects her, even now.

“...Fine.” Serena shrugs and drawls. “...what about…something you don’t remember, then?”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes at her logic, but smiles slightly all the same. She’s particularly fond of this idiot, for some reason.

“I…don’t know anything else about myself.” Shadowheart answers softly. “It is Lady Shar’s will that I keep the cloister’s secrets safe, this way.”

“I can tell you everything about yourself.” Serena assures her, drawing the words out lazily. It’s funny to hear her usually posh patriar accent stretched thin across her own words. She seems assured, confident in her knowledge of all things Shadowheart. It’s more endearing than it is haughty, and Shadowheart takes the bait.

“Oh, can you?” Shadowheart lifts a brow in curiosity.

This, she has to hear.

“Your favorite color is green-”

“It’s black.” Shadowheart scoffs. “Like the night. If you’re going to be a bold drunk, be an accurate one.”

“...if you insist.” Serena slurs and laughs at her, the nerve of her. She doesn’t believe a word out of Shadowheart’s mouth.

“Is that it, then?”

“You love…plants.”

“Riveting.”

“-And you’re upset because Karlach broke your watering vases.”

“This only proves that you have eyes.” Shadowheart points out dryly. “And thank you for reminding me.”

“You enjoy reading…romantic lit..” another hiccup, “...literature.”

Shadowheart’s cheeks burn. “As does Wyll. It’s called having taste.”

“...You like animals…”

“I tolerate them.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“With kisses.” Serena grins to herself. Like you to-” hiccup “-lerate me.”

Shadowheart isn’t certain whether to feel insulted or endeared. She settles on the former, though the latter seems to bleed through her tone, anyway. “...Yes, exactly like that.” she scoffs.

“and…and...you’resokind…” Serena smiles as she slurs the words together. “...even though you pretend to be cross. Often. ”

“I’m not pretending.” Shadowheart scowls once more, though Serena’s words seem to twinkle in her conscience like a bright, guiding star, illuminating the surrounding darkness.

“That scowl.” Serena whispers, glancing up at her in awe, favorably smiling at the lines forming between the crease in her brow.

Gods, the way she looks at Shadowheart, even now.

“These aren’t…are you quite finished?” Shadowheart puts a stop to her before Serena’s words can unravel her any more than they already have.

Serena is disarming; it’s so easy to think of her as a friend…as more than a friend…

Lady Shar reminds Shadowheart that she hasn’t the vacancy in her heart for such trifles, with a blunt shock to the hand, causing Shadowheart to seize up in pain.

This time, Serena sits on her knees, frowning as she reaches for Shadowheart’s hand. Shadowheart does not recoil this time; she can hardly find the strength.

Whatever set Lady Shar off, it has her livid, apparently.

“...You’re always in pain.” Serena remarks softly at first, and before Shadowheart can retort, she realizes it’s just another one of the facts about herself that Serena is reciting to her.

“Pain makes us stronger.” Shadowheart recites on pure instinct, through gritted teeth.

“...Then...What does love do?” Serena asks, eyes wide, head tilted curiously like damn Scratch and Shadowheart feels her chest heave violently at the sight.

You tell me.

“It’ll pass.” Shadowheart waves her off- her skin is hot where Serena holds her hand, absently rubbing a thumb over her wound, soothing away shocks of pain with a gentle touch.

Shadowheart isn’t even certain Serena knows what she’s doing, herself- it is her instinct to hold Shadowheart, to comfort her.

It always works, even now.

The pain in Shadowheart’s arm slowly recedes to just her hand, and eventually, nothing at all. Serena utters not a single word during this process, and Shadowheart realizes, with a sinking feeling in her chest, that Serena would take her pain and endure it herself, had she the opportunity.

Love.

The word rattles around Shadowheart’s mind, and terrifies her further- her lungs constrict, her heart thumps against her ribcage, all in vain as it attempts to leap out of her chest and embrace Serena.

Serena remains with her, close, on her knees holding Shadowheart’s hand, wordlessly.

If, eventually, she grows tired and comes to rest her head atop Shadowheart’s lap, Shadowheart does not protest at all.

Shadowheart cards her fingers absently through her lover’s loose waves, increasingly guilty with each touch and yet- unable to pull away.

Serena’s eyes close, and Shadowheart never ceases her soothing touch, gazing upon Serena’s tired form, entirely at her mercy.

Her mercy.

Serena came to camp and fell at her feet, knowing even in the sorry state she was in, that Shadowheart would be there to put her back together.

Their bond is undeniable; Serena is her closest confidant, her friend, her lover.

It cannot be, not when she’s come so close to fulfilling her Lady’s vision for her.

But Shadowheart cannot deny her heart any longer; the aches and pains of pretending she is fine, when in truth, she is terrified, have caught up with her.

Shadowheart allows herself a moment of weakness, as she watches Serena slowly nod off, ever warm and safe with her head in Shadowheart’s lap.

If she hears her now, at the very least, she certainly won’t remember, come tomorrow.

And so Shadowheart indulges.

Just this once.

“...I know one fact about myself.” Shadowheart murmurs, drawing her fingers through long, dark strands of hair that smell delightfully of jasmine oil and soap. “I…think I’ve fallen in love.” Shadowheart whispers, and the tears that form in the corner of her eyes slowly slip down one by one, leaving a wet trail upon her cheek. “And it’s going to hurt terribly when I have to leave you behind.” she admits, her very being uneasy at such an admission.

Serena does not stir; she smiles peacefully in her slumber atop Shadowheart’s lap.

Shadowheart tries not to memorize the sight that makes her heart quiver with such affection; it will be easier to forget her, this way.

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The following morning brings a sense of tranquility to camp.

Morning is perhaps too generous a word for the time; there is no daylight to denote such a change, anyway.

Shadowheart half expects to find Serena still mostly unconscious in her tent; to her surprise, she hears Serena’s voice along with the others before she can even step out of her tent.

Serena sounds well enough; her voice has returned to its normal cadence, and she laughs aloud at something Wyll has told her, echoing across camp.

Warmth blossoms in Shadowheart’s chest at the sound; the warmth is rapidly replaced by an icy feeling instead, when she remembers her plight.

She’d led Serena to her tent, left her with a kiss pressed to her forehead- carefully out of sight of the others, of course, and settled back into her own tent to repent.

Her night was a litany of prayers in the name of Lady Shar- asking her forgiveness, her acceptance, swearing to write Tav off the very moment she is able.

She is to be a Dark Justiciar.

Serena is temporary; Serena is an obstacle.

Shadowheart exits her tent with renewed vigor; she will not so much as glance in her direction. She will finally find the courage to properly honor Lady Shar. With last night’s confession, perhaps she can finally begin to correct her course.

In some way, telling Serena without telling her has done more for Shadowheart than she’d thought possible. Perhaps that was all it was- merely an urge to say something so taboo, so unfathomable, to clear it from her system once and for all.

Shadowheart does not give Serena, nor anyone else, anything beyond a curt smile and nod as she stretches in front of her tent, facing the day for the first time.

It’s a fairly normal morning; Wyll and Serena keep Gale’s company as he prepares breakfast, Karlach and Lae’zel gather more wood for the fire.

Serena glances longingly at Shadowheart, as she tends to do, and Shadowheart quickly looks away after a brief nod, hoping she doesn’t look as harrowed as she feels.

She has to start distancing herself now.

It will be easier to forget her this way.

As Shadowheart averts her gaze, she finds a new vase, filled with water, resting by one of the potted plants beside her tent.

Her heart catches in her throat.

#drabble #nls series #oc: serena tavyndír #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #nobleheart #drabble requests #queue

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kissitbttr · 1 year ago

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hiii, can we see frat!Miguel when he first met muñeca and started crushing on her. I'll love to see how he was always talking about with his brothers. thank you babess

truth be told, miguel never exactly noticed you until you came to one of the fraternities party. you are not an introvert but not exactly a social butterfly either.

he did hear a thing or two about you through beck. since his frat brother is having this weird on and off situationship with a girl named gloria and she’s friends with you. every time the two come over, gloria would mention a lot of things about you to beck and quite hoping that miguel would listen. she discreetly tries to hook you up with him.

not that miguel actually looked for you, he was fooling around with dana at that time. so he may not actually cared about her that much, but he’s not a fucking asshole that loves to play around with other girls when he himself already dating someone.

though the relationship did end shortly after. not exactly surprising.

but something changed in him when he sees you for the first time. or more like—what he saw that one priceless moment during his party and didn’t realize it was you.

“i think i’m in love” miguel mutters softly, pupils dilating as he watched you sucker punched a guy who wouldn’t stop bothering you. earning a few collective gasps from the crowd,

“who?”

“that girl” miguel points when beck comes closer, his eyes are locked in on your figure, still trying to get the guy off your back and it makes miguel’s lips twitch into a sense of proud smile. “damn. she’s got a good strength”

beck looks over at his friend with a smirk. he’s not that good at reading people, but if miguel was ever a cartoon character. there would be hearts drawn on his eyes when he continues to stare at you,

“that’s y/n”

and miguel never whips his head so fast that he’d probably get a whiplash. “you fucking with me? that’s y/n?!”

from that moment on, he cannot stop thinking about you.

since his relationship with dana ended shortly after, miguel finds himself trying to dig into a pieces of small informations about you through gloria and beck. even going around asking people in his class if the knew you.

“she’s in the cheerleading team. you can see her during thursday practice”

it’s what they say. and it confuses the hell out of him.

why haven’t he seen much about you if you’re in the cheerleading team then? fuck. where has he been all this time? not paying much more attention that’s for damn sure.

“she is so dreamy…” miguel sighs, eyeing you through the window glass where he can see you in your practice uniform. laughing with your friends. “wonder if i could make her laugh like that”

carlos and beck share a glance, one of them shrugging their shoulders.

“you know you’ve been doing this shit for weeks now. why don’t you just go and talk to her?” beck advises,

“say that shit like it’s easy, mano” he mutters out, then his eyes wander a bit lower to your thick thighs and he wanted nothing more than for you to put him in a headlock. “she’s a woman—a fine ass woman, and i’m me” he sighs, resting his chin upon the open palm,

carlos shoots beck a ‘what the fuck was that?!’ look and beck could only chuckle,

“does that mean we’re still going to hear you yapping about how in love you are with this chick back at the house since you’re too much of a pussy to ask her out on a date?” carlos questions,

and miguel is quick to push him off the chair

—

extras:

“have you seen y/n at the game today? fuuuckkk, she looks so damn cute”

“hey beck, ask gloria if y/n is looking for a date. i’m single, i promise! pleasepleasepleaseplease—“

“do you guys think if i wear this one she’d finally look my way? wait no— scratch that I don’t want her to think i’m dressing up for her, wait—maybe i do”

“I don’t think i have ever seen a girl look that good wearing a sundress. do you? nope! you don’t!”

“okay fess up! which one of you told y/n bad things about me?! SHE LOOKED AT ME WITH DISGUST THIS MORNING!”

it has been going on for weeks, making his friends get gradually tired of his constant talks about you. because that’s all he ever talks about when he’s at the frat house. when one tries to get him to talk about something else, he would then shift it back to you,

and it makes them love to gossip about him when he’s not around,

“jesus, beck! you had to tell him her name, hadn’t you? now we gotta deal with this puppy love shit!”

“what?! how is this my fault! he’s the one who’s fucking whipped”

“o’hara isn’t fucking stopping and i am this close to beating his ass!”

“can you or your girl just hook him up with this chick?!”

“don’t tell him this or he’ll cry but— y/n isn’t interested” beck winces making the rest groan

“i swear if i hear her name or muñeca falls off that motherfucker’s mouth one more time, i am going to lose it”

#frat!miguel #miguel o’hara blurbs

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songmingisthighs · 2 years ago

Text

Pleasure of Punishing

group : ateez

pairing : seonghwa × reader

genre : smut, pwp, request

wc : 1.6 k

warning : mdni, mean dom!seonghwa, rough sex, punishment, dubcon-adjacent?, slight dacriphilia

a/n : requested by @seonghwasbobaeyes. I hope this lived up to your expectations!

buy me coffee ?

Your head was starting to swirl and your thighs had gone numb. It must have been a couple hours since Seonghwa started torturing you but you couldn't really keep up with the time. Neither can you complain. Or at least you didn't want to when your boyfriend was torturing you with his dick. Right then and there, you were nothing but an object for him to release his frustration to. You didn't mean to push him over the edge either. Sure, you were being needy and clingy but how was you supposed to know that your usually composed, calm, and collected boyfriend would suddenly grab you by the neck and dragged you to your shared room when you said "Boo, you're no fun. Wooyoung was right" after he denied to see the new lingerie you just bought from your shopping trip with Wooyoung earlier.

"I told you," he grunted next to your ear, "I told you I wasn't in the mood for your brattiness, this is all on you," the sound of his hips smacking on your ass was loud enough to drown out his voice but thank God he was talking directly into your ear because between the slapping sounds and your brain melting from the continuous abuse to your cunt, you weren't in the state to process intricate information.

You were laid on your stomach with your head dangling off the bed while Seonghwa let his entire body weight prevent you from moving whilst effectively restricting some of your oxygen.

"I-I wasn't-" you tried to defend yourself but a harsh slap to your ass held the words in your throat and instead, you let out a yelp as tears well in your eyes again. "Yes you were, brat, because good girls don't contradict their daddies now," Seonghwa suddenly gripped your chin and pulled your head slightly up so your head was craned, "Do they?" he smirked cockily.

This side of Seonghwa rarely makes an appearance and when it actually does, you always find yourself rather conflicted because while he would suddenly be hyper-focused on you and use terms and do things he normally wouldn't, the next day would always be a hassle. Bruises, sore muscle from being folded and forced into positions only contortionists would be comfortable with, it was a love-hate relationship but you just can't get enough, you can't complain.

"S-Seongh-hwa, please," you whined, trying to get him off of you even momentarily because your thighs were starting to cramp and your joints were aching. Though you kept trying to push him off, Swonghwa didn't budge and his thrusts never faltered. Heck, he chuckled at your pathetic attempts to be free, enjoying the feeling of you resisting him a little more than he normally should. "Aw, baby," he mocked, pulling away completely momentarily, causing you to gasp at the sudden vacant feeling in your hole, "Weren't you just asking for my attention?" you could hear the pout in his voice and when he suddenly flipped you over, you were able to see it in person. "I thought that's what you wanted, hm? Why else would you mention the fact that you went to buy underwear to have sex in with a guy who seem to think that a good conversation topic is 'what sucks about your boyfriend', hm?" you tried to focus on his voice and hang onto every single one of his words but the feather-light touches of his finger on your pussy was very distracting. You caught pieces of his words, something about how you weren't supposed to ask another man about what can turn another guy on, but the way he was lightly rubbing your cunt and spreading your nether lips apart was electrifying. When he complained about how your action could cause him to get mocked amongst the guys, you were too busy arching your back to actually pay attention and Seonghwa knew, it was his plan all along to fulfil his girlfriend's desire. In his own way, of course.

A sudden slap to your left tit made you gasp and you lifted your head slightly with eyes wide, staring at Seonghwa who had a snarl on his face. "You asked for my attention yet you can't even spare me a lousy bit," he scoffed in annoyance but you knew him enough to notice the hint of playfulness in it. You were about to tell him off because if he really wanted your attention, he should not have been so distracting when he pushed your body slightly off the bed, your head and shoulder now dangling from the bed. "Seonghwa! Let me up!" you squealed, trying your best to hold your head up so you could look at him. But Seonghwa paid you no mind save for the eye contact and even proceeded to slide his arms under your back and anchored them on the back of your neck. With one eyebrow raised challengingly, he said in a flat tone, "No," he stated simply.

Your body was almost forced completely off the bed when he suddenly shoved his whole length into you, leaving you screaming and hand gripping his shoulder tightly. "That's better," he smirked, restarting fucking you with a vigorous speed right off the bat. "F-fuck!" you didn't know which caused your blood to rush up your head faster, the feeling that gravity was pulling you down or the feeling of being filled to the brim. "Seonghwa!" you whined again, trying to claw your way back up but he only responded with a harsh thrust that stilled deep in you, "You know, I let you call me by my name a couple of times, trying to see if you realized what you were doing and correct yourself, but how dare you," one more harsh thrust that pushed you even closer to the floor, "How dare you not call me daddy like you should," he hissed before diving to harshly tug the skin all over your chest, leaving teeth and red marks in hopes that you won't forget who he is to you.

Seonghwa's hips slowly restarted their abuse on your cunt once again which was a nice half-break since your cunt felt sore and the impact was still bruising. Literally, you could feel bruises blooming on your hips and your ass and you realized there was a higher chance of you not being able to walk the next day over Seonghwa changing from fucking the shit out of you to making love. You couldn't even muster anything other than moans, grunts, and whimpers, it even took a huge toll on you to stay alert and responsive and you were only able to achieve so because the grip Seonghwa had on your neck was warm and comfortable, a harsh contrast to his rough treatment on the rest of your body. From head to toe, your whole body tingled from the sensation that was overwhelming.

Like a predator, Seonghwa was looking at you as if he was hungry and had been starving before he got a taste of you. The more satisfied he was over how your cunt was hugging his cock just right, the more he craved for you. He loved how obsessive you could make him when he was in such a state, he loved how you were the only one who was able to unlock this side of him. Most people he talked to about sex only talked about how they felt about the experience which made Seonghwa feel concerned over his love of having your body as his. He loved that he knew how to pleasure you just right, he loved the fact that the sounds you produced were responses to what he did to you, and he absolutely loved how he filled you up with his cum every time you had sex. Seeing the person he loves full of him was exhilarating and he couldn't help but want to make sure that you know who you belonged to.

Thrust after thrust delivered, the room did its best to hold in your cries and contain the overwhelming scent of your activity. The bed had become such a mess that the sheets were lifted up from the corners and bunched but Seonghwa didn't care. In fact, the visual of such a mess framed your figure like a throne. His eyes even twinkled when he saw you shakily came for the nth time that night, body bordering on convulsing as you released with a loud squeal that actually sounded like a scream. But Seonghwa's thrusts never stopped, in fact, when he saw how you got overwhelmed and overstimulated with tears spilling from your eyes and hands trying to push him off, the sick part of him got even more aroused. His hips move as if they have a brain of their own, chasing his high with the help of seeing you looking so pathetic under him. He didn't even care that when he came inside you, the neverending movement of his hips caused the cum your cunt failed to hold to pool under your ass, creating a sticky mess. Still, Seonghwa ground into your hips even after he finished filling you up.

It was only after Seonghwa pulled his cock out of you and pulled you body back to the bed did you realize how the pleasure had turned to pain. You were absolutely ready to just pass out but the sticky feeling of your sweaty body and creamed cunt reminded you how you needed to clean up first. The task seemed annoying but it was important if you didn't want to clean yourself through the aftermath pain the next day

However, just as you were about to get up, Seonghwa forced your body down and crawled up so that he was straddling your chest. Your eyes widened at the sight of his red-tipped, angry, hard cock staring down at you like a gun ready to be unloaded while Seonghwa stared at you with an evil grin on his face. "Oh honey, we're nowhere near being done."

God, you should not have provoked him.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo @asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut @mingiberrii

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fiapartridge · 5 months ago

Note

hiiiiii !! i saw you write for beckett sennecke ! i love him he is so underrated !!! i was wondering if you could do some headcanons you have of him as a bf or something along those lines. if not, no worries ! i hope you have a really amazing day ! ily xoxo

beckett sennecke headcanons!! ⭐️🩰🪞💌🛁

💌 author's note: wait im literally obsessed with headcanons now i wanna do so many more LOL

bf!beckett is such passenger princess energy it's insane and he's ALWAYS on aux. like he'll literally fight for it.

also, he can only sit in the front or else he'll start complaining that there's either no space for his long ass legs or that he'll get car-sick and barf all over everyone lmfao

bf!beckett whoo buys you literally everything. like you don't even have to tell him you like something, like if you look at something for too long, he's already at the cash register buying it for you

bf!beckett who loves playing with ur hair. he's like a little cat with a ball of yarn. he tried braiding ur hair once and it just created a bunch of knots and he was TERRIFIED he was like "oh my god, babe. i think i just fucked up your hair."

bf!beckett who loves sharing updates on his day. like he'll be send pics of him and his teammates at a sandwich shop and be like "just ate the best sandwich of my life! we're coming here together next time!" or he'll be at a dog park and send a picture of all the dogs and be like "take your pick. i think i can steal one when they're not looking."

bf!beckett who calls you pookie in a teasing way because he knows how much you hate it. he says it the most in public because he likes to see ur cheeks turn pink.

bf!beckett who orders 3 entrees at restaurants and also eats the food you can't finish he's literally a human vacuum

bf!beckett who always shares his food with you even if it's his favorite. he just wants to share everything with you <3

bf!beckett who's drama is ur drama. like anytime he gets a piece of information and he has to swear not to tell a single soul, he always ends up telling you and it's technically not breaking the rules because you're basically an extension of him, so...

bf!beckett who is just the sweetest subconsciously. like he wont even realize he's doing things like pulling out your chair and carrying your bags and opening the car door for you. sometimes when you're at his apartment and he sees your cup is empty, he'll go refill it before you even ask. he just knows

bf!beckett who misses you all the time. even if it's just for a day, he'll start sending you texts about how much he misses you and your pretty face. roadies are the worst. he is always facetiming you and talking about you to his teammates, like "y/n would love this. let me send her a pic" or "what do you guys think y/n is doing right now?"

bf!beckett who gets your entire family gifts on their birthdays and christmas. even on valentines day, he'll get your mom some flowers and a note like "thanks for welcoming me into your family, mama l/n!"

bf!beckett who is super close with your younger siblings. like he loves playing video games with your little brother or playing tea party with your little sister. he'll even pretend to be a prince while your sister plays a princess. he'll be super into it to like calling her "your highness" and wearing a crown and cape.

bf!beckett who sends you a stupid meme every morning before you wake up. it'll be like a seal saying "top of the morning!" and you roll your eyes every time but you never want him to stop

bf!beckett who made you a playlist after your first date (which was at a diner and had one of those tiny juke boxes on the table. you chose "here comes the sun" and that was the first song he added to the playlist)

#beckett sennecke #anaheim ducks #hockey #beckett sennecke headcanons #hockey headcanons

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aristocratic-otter · 5 months ago

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Hi all! It's so lovely to see so many people motivated by the fresh feeling of a new year. Thank you for sharing your work with me, @artsyunderstudy, @nausikaaa, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @roomwithanopenfire,

@whatevertheweather, @bookish-bogwitch, @martsonmars, @bookishbroadwayandblind, and @prettygoododds.

One thing I learned from reading everyone's year-end retrospectives: if I want to be more involved, I need to stop being such a perfectionist! I could have been posting every week, but I'd be kicking myself over not having finished a piece of every single WIP...and so I wouldn't post. I'm gonna challenge myself to just post, even if I only wrote one thing the previous week. So that said, it was a vacation week for me, so along with posting my gift fic for @facewithoutheart, A Very Zombie Christmas, I did actually do work on a lot of my WIPs, and you can expect updates on at least two of them this week.

So, here we go. As always, I absolutely did not bother to count six sentences:

From my 2023 COTTA, Snow Fox:

It took some convincing to get Penny and Mitali out the window and up onto the roof. Well, more Mitali than Penny. Neither woman much liked the fact that their petticoats and whatever other underthings women wear would be clearly visible from underneath the whole time they were climbing.

Penny accepted it as a necessity with a grumble and an embarrassed flush, but Mitali truly balked at the idea. Finally, Pen suggested that I lower a loop of rope rather than an end of rope, and the women could sit in the loop and be hauled up. That resolved the whole ridiculous issue, and we had both women out of the house and onto the roof in short order.

From my COBB with @cutestkilla: The Rat and the River

I’ve always wanted to be part of one of Snow’s famous ‘lunch meetings’. Penelope’s told me about them. Simon thinks better with food, so all information is shared and ideas are circulated over meals in Simon’s team. I used to wish to be British myself so I could join his team and take part in these comfortable meetings of minds. I love food and I love talk, especially talk about disease. What could be more enticing than spending time over sandwiches with the famous Snow’s angels?

Especially one particular angel.

From Tiktok Dancer:

Penny, Shep, Agatha and I are all staring at him, jaws hanging loose in our surprise at his unexpected eloquence and passion. Baz just sips on his fruity cocktail and smiles back at us demurely.

I suddenly realize how little I know about this man I’ve fallen head over heels for. And not knowing makes me itch—I can’t stand it.

“What dream are you pursuing?” I blurt.

Baz looks at me steadily, and I can almost see him revising his first answer in his head.

From my Visitor Baz AU:

Baz is dead.

I can’t understand it. The idea that Baz, my terrible roommate, will never snark at me from his desk across the room from mine again…that he’ll never use up all the hot water with his endless showers or wear his uniform in such a way that makes it look designer while all the rest of us look boring. He’ll never suck down a rat in the catacombs or earn the highest score on a Magic Words exam.

Baz is dead.

From Saving Simon Snow (I’ve got to reread this one to get my mojo back on it, I think. But here’s six new shortish sentences):

In all our years of cohabitation, I’ve never seen Simon truly lose his temper with Bunce. With me, certainly. Hundreds of times. In the Catacombs, he was irritable and defiant. But now? The moment Bunce grabs hold of his arm, Simon goes off.

From CORB #1, Baby Mine with @argumentativeantitheticalg

His voice takes on that haughty, lecturing tone I used to hate so much. Or at least that I used to think that I hated. It made me want to slam him against the wall and get in his face.

I think I maybe just wanted to get my face on his face. Why was I so fucking stupid?

I’m lost in rumination on my own failings when the rise in volume from the crib and the pointed clearing of Baz’s throat both bring me back.

From CORB #2: The Stoves Come On At Night, with @ebbpettier

I wake up.

For several seconds, I blink groggily into the early morning light. I try to catch at the wisps of the dream I was having, but they’re fading.

I can’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Like I’d planned, I’d slept a few hours last night and then got up at three a.m. Three hours later, after I’d finished a sketchy patrol, I headed back to bed as the first rays of the sun were just breaking over the horizon.

It can’t be more than 8 am now. What on earth woke me up? Even if I can’t really remember it, I’d been having such a pleasant dream…

Suddenly, I realize that the annoying buzzing sound I hear is an alarm–the fire alarm!

Tags and howdies to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @fatalfangirl,

@melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean,

@raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz,

@krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost, @mooncello,

@shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart, @theearlgreymage, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife,

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @facewithoutheart, @thewholelemon, @skeedelvee, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

@messofthejess, @best--dress, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii, @hushed-chorus,

@rimeswithpurple, @blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla, @letraspal, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,

@wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @emeryhall, @larkral, @youarenevertooold,

@j-nipper-95, @ebbpettier, and @argumentativeantitheticalg

#co/ws/awtwb #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #simon snow series #carry on through the ages #carry on reverse bang #cotta 2023 #carry on big bang

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upsidedownsmore · 1 year ago

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ENTRIES CLOSED, reblogs turned off, thank you everyone for entering and sharing your wonderful works!!

A compilation of every entry piece can be found here!

The winner is @mugbearerscorner and the information has been confirmed in DMs!!

Roll proof:

A link to the full spreadsheet of entries can be found here!

I'm so so grateful to all the people who participated in this event!! I'm so happy with how well it turned out and I'm so so thankful to be able to host it!!! Love you all!! :) :) :)

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

GAUSS PRIME ACCESS GIVEAWAY!

* Provided by Digital Extremes! Info about the prime access here.

To enter, simply reblog with your art of ANY warframe giving a thumbs up!

Giveaway entries will close on FEBRUARY 10TH at 10:00pm CST

The post for the above drawing (with reference screenshot and wips) can be found here.

MORE INFO UNDER THE READ LINE, PLEASE READ IT IF YOU WANT TO ENTER

Notes:

This is not a contest! The winner will be decided entirely randomly, image quality will have no effect on chances of winning! Make whatever you can in any medium you want! (This can also include 3D mediums! The only thing I'm not including is unedited game screenshots/captura, though edited might be okay). Everyone can draw regardless of how good you think your own skills are!

Please submit your own drawing(s)!! Only one is necessary but you can make more if you want of course! Do not use any AI generation tools for your entry.

When reblogging it might be a good idea to enter some text either in the post or in the tags! It turns out reblogs with just an image and nothing else might not show up under the original post, which means I might miss your submission!

Only one entry per person, you will not get more entries for additional reblogs and/or drawings.

The goal of this is for the community to have a fun little gallery of warframe thumb ups in the reblogs, but again don't stress over how "good" your drawing is! As long as you have fun and submit something vaguely in line with the prompt you're good! (such as a wave instead of a thumbs up or an operator instead of a warframe, etc. Up to you how closely you want to follow the prompt!)

You DO NOT need to engage with me in any other way (likes, follows, etc.) to enter, just a reblog with a drawing loosely following the prompt!

This giveaway will only run here on Tumblr due to issues with bots and impersonation on Twitter. The issue of course is that the only way to submit images under a single post on Tumblr is through reblogs, but please know that I do not intend this to be a means of promotion. If people could submit images in the replies I would gladly take that option! If this post gets taken down I will look into other giveaway options.

As this is my first giveaway as a Warframe creator please let me know if I've made any mistakes!

Here are some example drawings that would all work, but of course whatever you want to make shouldn't be limited to this!

Inspired by @ritens, I will be assigning one unique number per individual and then throwing them into the random number generator on random.org. After the entries close and I roll the winner, I will update this post with the winner's name and a message saying that the giveaway is closed. Reblogs will also be turned off once the giveaway is closed, as I am only using reblogs as means of congregating drawing submissions under one post during the giveaway period.

Whoever's number get's chosen will be contacted via DMs here on Tumblr, so please make sure your DMs are open! I will be asking for your Warframe IGN and platform so DE can give send over your prize! If you have cross-save linked or merged then please tell me, though I will also be asking in DMs as well. If the winner doesn't respond within 48 hours or no longer wants the prime access pack, then I will roll a new winner with the same method but with the previous winner(s) number(s) taken out of the pool.

Topmost drawing without giveaway text:

Anyways good luck and most importantly have fun!!

#free wf pa #warframe #gauss prime #my art #warframe gauss prime #UpsideDownSmore's art #warframe fanart #gauss prime access #wf tag #wf #warframe gauss #can't believe i can do one of these now woah #still absolutely surreal #probably way too much effort for this lol #but it was good practice at least and i'm really happy with the result!#praying this works i've spent too long cobbling this together lol #UpsideDownSmore's free wf stuff

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

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A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

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