#their exchanges. the things they take for granted about each other. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

captainmalewriter · 6 months ago

Text

A God's Tongue

“Alright, you ready?” Ahmed asked as he got on his knees. His roommate Kyle helped himself onto his bed and stripped down.

“More than ready! Thanks again man, seriously, you’re the best!”

Kyle stroked his flaccid cock until it began hardening up to full mast. Once it was sufficiently hard enough, Ahmed brushed off Kyle’s hand and took a hold of his cock himself. He looked at the long, pink member with hungry eyes. He smacked his lips with his tongue. Ahmed was ready to go down on his roommate right then and there, but then a slight hesitation in his mind stopped him.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked.

“I don’t know if we should be doing this tonight. Aren’t you worried I’m transforming you too much? This’ll be the third time this month! What if something happens to you?”

Ahmed backed away from the bed. Suddenly, the idea of his magic tongue horrified him. He doesn't know how he developed such a strange ability, but Ahmed had the power to temporarily transform anything (or anyone) he wanted by licking it. Ahmed hated his tongue. It made eating unnecessarily difficult and hook ups practically impossible. He swore to keep his magic tongue a secret until the day he died. However, after a night out drinking, Ahmed accidentally hooked up with Kyle and turned him into an adonis. He hoped it would just be a one time thing, but Kyled begged him to transform him again. Although he initially refused, Ahmed eventually warmed up to the idea when he realized it was his chance to finally hook up without someone finding out about his powers. They formed a mutually beneficial arrangement: Kyle got to be a Greek god, while Ahmed got the sex he craved but couldn't have because of his tongue.

It was originally supposed to be a once-a-month thing. Ahmed's tongue could only do temporary transformations. But everytime Ahmed used his power on Kyle, he noticed there was something inexplicably off about his roommate. Sure, Kyle's body returned back to normal after a few days, but his personality started changing too. He became angry, anxious, and even aggressive at times. Ahmed wasn't sure what exactly was going on inside his roommate's mind and he was worried his tongue had something to do with it.

“Nahh I'll be fine!!" Kyle chuckled. "You worry too much, Ahmed! Nothing bad has ever happened in all the times we've done this, right?"

"Well, no, I guess not."

"Exactly! It'll be fine. If anything, we'll just do it one more time and then we'll take a long break... Sound good?"

Ahmed looked up and saw Kyle smiling at him. His reassurance helped calm his nerves. But despite Kyle's affirmation, doubt still lingered in his mind. Ahmed hesitated, but after Kyle made his erect cock twitch at him, he ultimately decided one more transformation couldn't hurt. He wrapped a hand around Kyle's boner, stood up, and kissed him firmly on the lips.

The two men exchanged rough kisses as they pressed their bodies against each other, grunting and groaning as they did so. Kyle then opened his mouth, granting Ahmed the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

Ahmed's tongue was magical in more ways than one. He knew how to use his tongue well. Ahmed had no problem dominating Kyle's tongue as he took the leading role in their makeout sess. Kyle groaned with delight as Ahmed licked and sucked away at his tongue. As he did so, Ahmed's magic tongue activated and Kyle began to transform. His jawline became wider and sharper as it morphed into a more squared off jaw with some slight stubble to complete his more overtly masculine look. His nose grew thicker and wider until a hooked nose replaced his small, button nose. His cheekbones filled in and grew more pronounced, giving him a ruggedly handsome face. All the while his face began getting darker in skin tone too. His blond, wavy hair darkened until they were jet black and with curls. Darker features were something Ahmed's tongue had never done before, but they were both too caught up in the heat of the moment to even notice.

Ahmed pulled his lips away from Kyle's lips and moved down to his neck. He planted his lips against the left side of his body. He then began licking, sucking, and biting playfully at his neck until hickies began to form, then switched over to the right side.

"Nrgghh fuckk..." Kyle whispered. The heat coming from Ahmed's wet mouth felt good against his neck. His hands gripped the bed sheets as he felt his neck grow thicker and darker with every lick Ahmed gave him. Ahmed ran his tongue from the top of his shoulder blades to the edge of his jawline, causing his shoulder muscles to tighten and thicken. Within seconds, Kyle's back transformed into that of a linebacker thanks to Ahmed's magic tongue. Ahmed moved over into Kyle's armpits next. He stuck his nose into his pit and sniffed his musk. He then licked the crevice if his pits, causing thick black hair to sprout in until Kyle had rank jungles in his underarms. From there, Ahmed slid over to his arms and bit him. He bit and licked all over until Kyle's biceps grew into firm, melon-sized cannons with thick forearms to boot. He licked and licked until veins all throughout Kyle's arms throbbed with strength.

Ahmed continued making his way down Kyle's torso. He stopped at his chest. He licked his nipples until they grew pointy, then proceeded to slip his pec into his mouth and sucked away at his nipple. Kyle's toes curled and his pupils rolled back as Ahmed suckled away at his growing chest. The pleasurable sensations were making him break a sweat. Ahmed didn't mind it though. He was having the time of his life too. The sweat added a slightly salty taste to Kyle's tits. He could feel Kyle's pectoral muscles grow heavier in his mouth as he sucked too, giving his hands something to grab and squeeze as he focused his mouth on his nips. Once he felt Kyle had a suitable set of hefty pecs, Ahmed moved down further to his abdominal region. Ahmed then proceeded to trace the outline of his abs with his tongue. Kyle's flabby stomach region swelled with muscle mass until his abs began popping out one by one like freshly popped popcorn.

In no time flat, Kyle's body had undergone two major transformations. His muscles swelled and grew while also growing darker in color until Kyle had become a muscular Arab god. Every lick Ahmed gave Kyle was pushing him further and further away from his original identity.

Unfortunately, both Ahmed and Kyle were too busy enjoying themselves notice Ahmed was inadvertently changing his roommate's race into his own. Ahmed got back down on his knees with Kyle's cock in hand. He slipped his pink head into his mouth and began licking away at it. He started slowly at first, then gradually made his way down Kyle's lengthy rod inch by inch. All the while Ahmed made sure to use his tongue generously.

"Mmm yeah just like that... Keep sucking that big dick!" Kyle purred, Ahmed moaned in response. He sunk back against the bed as Ahmed's wet mouth wrapped tightly around his hard cock. The sensual feeling of Ahmed's thick, bushy beard pressing against the cleanly shaved base of his cock drove him mad with pleasure. Kyle ran his fingers through his roommate's hair as Ahmed alternated between swirling and licking the sensitive tip of his dick like a melting popsicle, sending rippling sensations throughout his groin every time he did so.

"Ohhh fuckk..! It's happening..!!" Kyle said with bated breath. He threw his head back as he felt a new surge of blood rush into his already erect cock, causing it to grow thicker and heavier by the second.

"Mmmph!!" Ahmed gagged against the expanding cock in his mouth. Suddenly, Kyle's dick was long enough to press against the back of his throat but he refused to give up. He took in a breath through his nose and continued deepthroating Kyle's member until his nose touched his pubis. With his length already pushing 8 inches, Ahmed's magic began affecting Kyle's balls too. They grew and grew until they hung low, heavy with cum.

"Ahhh..! Ahhh..! FUCK!! Ohhh....!!!"

Kyle squirmed from the building pressure in his junk. His body was becoming more muscular and Arab by the second! His balls were practically twitching, begging him for release! Kyle knew how uncomfortable transformation could be, but it was never this powerful before. He knew something was wrong. Amidst waves of pleasure, he opened his eyes and was shocked at what he saw. He had become the muscular adonis again just like he wanted, but his body had unexpectedly become brown too!

"What the fuck..? Noooo...!!"

The darker skin tone was slowly but surely spreading up the length of his pink dick. Kyle tried patting Ahmed in a desperate attempt to stop him, but he took it a sign to not stop sucking him off. Kyle tried to fight it, but between the bomb head and the transformation pains, his body seized up. All he could do was brace himself as his cock twitched and rumbled until he finally shot loads of cum down Ahmed's throat. The moment he pumped out the first load, the growing melanin surged throughout the rest of his body. His legs spasmed as his feet grew bigger and wider until he had smelly, size 14 feet. He had been completely transformed from head to toe.

"Ahhh man! That was good!!" Ahmed swallowed Kyle's load then got up from his knees. "That was more intense than last time! How do you- what the fuck!? Who are you!!"

Ahmed jumped back when he saw the new Arab Kyle laying out in front of him. Kyle held a hand against his temples.

"What are you yelling for... It's me!"

"Kyle!?"

"Who else?"

"But... No! That can't be! You were just supposed to become muscular! Now you look like one of my cousins!!"

"I don't know what to tell you man... Your tongue transformed me, so now I'm gonna look like this for the next couple of days."

The two men shared looks. Kyle held a serious expression while Ahmed looked like he was ready to pass out.

"Well... I guess you're just gonna look like this for a while. Are you gonna be okay?" Ahmed asked.

"Yeah man! I'll be fine!" Kyle flashed Ahmed a smile, but it still took him a while to actually calm down. But once he did, he left the room anxious while a sinister smirk began to form on 'Kyle's' face.

"That fucking idiot..." 'Kyle' said in perfect Arabic. "It took me a long time to squeeze out enough magic out of that fool, but I'm finally fully adjusted to this body!!"

Zahid flashed a grin to himself as he flexed his new body. He was more than happy with the results of his hard work. As he did so, an idea struck him.

"The God's tongue is wasted on someone foolish and cowardly like him... Looks like I'm gonna need one more favor from you, Brother."

The same smirk from before returned to Zahid's face as he looked at himself proudly in the mirror. One that Ahmed had no idea he was responsible for creating with his magic tongue.

#male transformation #male tf #male shapeshift #magic tf #muscle tf #mental change #racial change #unintended consequences tf

448 notes · View notes

primofate · 4 days ago

Text

Once upon a time there was this fanfiction that I read... [Genshin Spin]

TW: Death, angst, misunderstanding

It was a very, very long time ago, maybe in 2008. I can't even remember what anime it was anymore, but I'm taking those memories and that idea and spinning it into Genshin.

If anybody knows which fanfiction I'm talking about, please let me know as I would LOVE to read it again.

Pick a Genshin Character of your choice.

In the story, you were arranged into a marriage to him for efficiency's sake. As all arranged marriage tropes go, you gradually and actually fall in love with each other.

However, before the wedding happens, you find out that there's something undesirable about him.

For instance, Tartaglia's thirst for battle and his connections with Fatui.

Diluc's guardedness, and how you always felt like you never got the whole of him.

Wriothesley's past. How he has killed people.

Alhaitham's lack of emotion and his logic first approach.

Scaramouche's terrible mouth and lack of respect for anyone at all.

Xiao's unwillingness to open up to you.

Zhongli's experience which far surpasses yours. Sometimes it's like you're not even on the same wavelength.

He gives you a chance to back out of the arrangement. And you, being young and fearful, decide that there is still much of the world for you to see and more people for you to meet. This man can't be the one you'd spend your life with.

So you leave.

Years pass and the more you see of the world the more you realize that no one in this world is perfect at all and, strangely, you find yourself yearning for someone your heart already knows. Your past, arranged lover.

Sure, there were a lot of things wrong with him, but there were also a lot of things wrong with you and when you finally find him, he's even more guarded than before.

He did really take a liking to you back then, so now as he sees you approaching again, you can't blame him for the caution that he shows.

You don't exactly pine for his attention nor his love. But you accepted that you had to start all over again.

You start by getting to know him again, what he's been up to, what he likes to do, what his goals are in exchange for stories of your own. You support him as much as you can, and fondly take care of him as you did before, maybe even more.

Truthfully, to someone looking from the outside, it pretty much looks like you're clinging on to him and in some senses, you are. You took him for granted back then, but you're now willing to repay that mistake with genuine love and care.

Until one day, the enemies you've made come looking for him. You've just been sticking to him real close these days that it's hard to get a hold of you alone, when it's easier to bully you.

So, your enemies feed him lies.

"Duke Wriothesley, correct?"

"Master Diluc, right?"

"Iudex of Fontaine,"

"Former Geo Archon,"

"Balladeer"

and proceeds to tell them a secret that only you would know.

"Y/N? She's disgusted that you killed your own parents."

"She thinks you're pathetic, grovelling over your father's death,"

"Uncaring. Justice always comes first over everything else,"

"You bore her, talking about history the way you do,"

"Pah! Why would she bother with someone rude like you, really?"

and your enemies deal the final blow.

"We've paid her to follow you. Why do you think she's come all the way here looking for you again? You don't really think it was for you? All your secrets? She's sold them to us for a hefty price. Enough to cover her for a lifetime,"

and perhaps it's hard to imagine him believing it on first thought. But this was a man you had already turned away from once and then just happened to reappear into his life randomly again.

So the next time you come looking for him, smile on your face, packed lunch and all... He looks at you with a cold gaze, and accuses you of things you had no idea about.

"Leave. You've made yourself clear,"

"Get lost. You're even more disgusting than I am,"

"I know you're being paid, so cut the crap,"

"You can stop acting now,"

And you... Poor you who really just wanted to gain his favour. Who really just wanted a second chance to love him again, try to ask him what he means but he responds with despise.

"I know why you've been following me. Stop acting like you care and leave,"

Hurt, you leave without further questioning him. Not even a day later, your enemies come knocking at your door. Finally, you're alone.

Finally, they can make a move without worrying about that pesky man of yours.

And finally... they kill you. Just like that, in your own home.

Fortunately, he knows your new address.

Fortunately, he comes looking for you after a few days of mulling over his words. Perhaps he just had to hear your side of the story first. He didn't let you talk last time out of anger, but maybe this time it would be clearer.

Maybe this time it would be different.

Maybe this time...

...

...it would be the end.

Does it fit into a Genshin context?

If this is a trope, what trope is it?

What similar tropes like this have you read and liked? Would love to read them :D

Kinda reminds me of a MAFIA thing and I feel like it fits more into that but for the life of me I CANNOT find the fanfiction anymore. It used to be on fanfiction.net

#genshin angst #genshin impact

176 notes · View notes

hivemuthur · 12 days ago

Note

If it’s okay to request, may I request hcs or something with Viktor where he’s dating an autisc reader?

Okay, first of - I have no idea what I have done to be granted such trust, thank you so much Anon! I have been provided amazing advice from @rennethen while writing this and done some research and I hope, I hope, I hope it meets expectations.

ViktorXAutistic!Reader HeadCannons

viktorxgn!reader mature, fluff and again: Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life men

author’s note: I have decided to not include tics, as they come in so many variations and I didn't want to impose anything upon Readers, but I can imagine Viktor being a total sweetheart about them.

word count: 1,4K

—

Since your first meeting, Viktor has been smitten with your bluntness and your ability to take his acrimonious jokes apart without a hint of incredulity in your voice. The way you keep asking subsidiary questions until you dig through the layers of his sass to the actual thing he meant to say leaves his soul naked as day, every single time. Finally, an inquisitive mind, he thinks to himself, as you go for the killing blow:

“So, what you’ve meant to say is that you find me attractive?”

“Eh, I suppose that is what I meant,” he admits dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. “Though usually I tend to be a little bit less straight forward.”

“I prefer straight forward,” you tell him with wide eyes.

“I… I shall remember that.”

Viktor soon realises that being asked a lot of questions makes him blush in a funny way and his chest gets all fuzzy. So, he begins to share every little aspect of his work with you. The more questions you ask, the warmer his heart gets and somehow the way you get excited about his ideas is worth more than any other academical pat on the back he ever received.

Before asking you out for the first time, Viktor conducts a thorough research, not very different to the ones he conducts for the sake of a thesis. He finds out what are your favourite places and favourite spots to sit. He books two reservations, just in case.

He does the same thing when you try out a new place. Just in case. It has proven useful only once.

As a man who values routine, he finds it absolutely endearing that good things remain in your orbit for a long time and discovers that being greeted with his own name by the barista is actually a nice little feeling.

When he asked you if he could kiss you for the first time, he held his breath while you were reconsidering. He found it hard not to laugh stupidly and nod his head a couple times too many when you responded with the same question.

He cupped your face and brushed his thumb on your lip tentatively. At first, he just rubbed his nose against yours. Then, his cheek, as he pulled you closer. You decided his hair smelled nice and that he could proceed. You didn’t know what to do with your hands at first, because he was wearing an incredibly itchy jumper, so you settled on his neck, and he took it as an invitation to kiss you deeper.

When you told him about it he gave the jumper to Caitlyn, and even though the sleeves are not long enough for her, she wears it often. Gradually, Viktor is in the process of exchanging his wardrobe to touch-friendly materials, currently he is half-way through. He wears the offensive clothes to meetings with Jayce, because Jayce will hug even a hedgehog.

You teach Viktor the value of comfort, not just in the clothing department. Suddenly he finds that his blankets are softer and that his flat increased the base number of cushions.

He religiously cuts the tags out of your clothes and his work is so precise it’s as if the tag was never there in the first place.

Viktor will still periodically ask for a permission to touch you, only to hear “Yes, please.” And it still makes him blush.

He keeps two notebooks—one on your current food fixations. He writes down a start date of each and marks every little alteration. He examines the lifecycle of each dish, as you eat it every day for a month and suddenly stop, to move on to the next one. On the back of the notebook he has a list of old reliables.

The second notebook, he treats more seriously—it’s a journal of stimming. He makes a note of each gesture in order to recognize your emotions better. After a while he is able to tell if you are feeling overwhelmed, just excited or trying to concentrate.

He is completely bemused by the fact that you always know what entered the bowl first—the cereal or the milk.

When you unconsciously repeat words back at him in his accent he makes it intentionally heavier, because he finds in unbearably cute.

After some time, he’s learned to recognise when you are masking. When it happened for the first time, he allowed himself a pinch of panic. Only when you unravelled at home, he sighed, partially relieved, and made a note of it in his journal.

Viktor carries a pair of noise cancelling headphones when you go out together. He puts them on you if you get overstimulated and presents you with something else to shift your focus into—a tight hug, a smell or he presses gently on your shoulders to steady you.

If you happen to have a meltdown at either of your homes, he wordlessly prepares you your favourite food and stays close enough for you to reach. Sometimes, he does a full body scan with you, to see which part requires the most attention.

There are certain sounds that Viktor makes which you particularly like—the click of his tongue, the intercepting ‘ehs’ and ‘ahs’—and once he connects the dots between him making those and a smile that always blooms on your face, he produces as many as he can, while still sounding natural.

He enjoys just existing with you. Sitting in the same room, while he works, and you read is his definition of a happy place. Just glancing over to you, your tongue filling your cheek as you read something particularly interesting, the small sounds you make at turning points in the story make his heart flutter.

He finds himself involuntarily memorizing the lyrics of the songs you play on repeat. He has no idea who the artist are, but he knows their songs by heart now. It makes him feel old, in a funny way.

It completely disarms him, when you return his gifts. After three futile attempts to give you something of popular romantic demand, he scolded himself for not changing the method soon enough. Instead of jewellery, he encourages your special interests, through getting you books on the topics or taking you places that embody your passions.

On the other side of the coin, your gifts are deeply appreciated. Every little pebbling trinket has it’s special place in the box on his desk. He takes them out periodically and counts how many times a tiny detail in the chaos of the outside world has made you think of him.

For dates, Viktor chooses times and days in which the world is less crowded. Instead of a busy Saturday night, you go out in the middle of the week. After a particularly failed attempt of gifting you perfume, Viktor takes you to a balm perfume workshop, where you can make scents for each other that are buildable and unoffensive to sensitive skin.

He’s built an intimacy with you that is based on trust and constant checking. He takes care of the mood and gives you enough stops to reconsider on the way.

You both talk a lot during sex. A change of mind is natural and there is enough space made for it. He has learned a lot about himself, and his self-esteem strengthened, when he realised that, ‘I don’t like it,’ doesn’t mean ‘I don’t like you.’

If, for whatever reason, the communication turns nonverbal, you both have come up with a system of pats that signals where each of you should direct your attention.

Your inquisitive mind helped him find three additional positions, in which he feels comfortable and painless, and it eludes him entirely how he could have missed them.

Viktor’s favourite part of aftercare is cuddling you naked. He adores the way your warm body melts into his. If you add head scratches to it, he will fall asleep in your arms. He breaths in the smell of your hair and his heart beat evens out with yours.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x f!reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #request #viktor x gn!reader #viktor fluff #viktor x reader fluff #viktor headcannons #arcane headcannons #viktor hcs #arcane hcs

217 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 2 months ago

Text

ivy

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru gojo as taylor swift songs series

“i’m not particularly fond of attending these meetings, kento.” you state.

in the grand scheme of things, the deal that you make with nanami kento is the best case scenario. and if you were looking at this retroactively, with every option exhausted, you’d keep your complaints to yourself. that deep down, you’d know that you virtually have nothing to complain about. that things could be drastically more dangerous than they were.

but you don’t look at everything in the grand scheme of things. or retroactively. especially when you’re trying to get nanami kento to be nice to you. you turn to your side to give him a particularly pained look, one that he sees through almost immediately, and stops in his tracks with an immediate flick to your forehead with his fingers.

you rub the sore spot on your forehead while you shoot him a glare, one that makes him smile at you rather fondly.

“such a shame. they’ve requested your presence, dearest.” he responds, tone dry.

you lean your head against the back of the carriage, letting out your best attempts of a dramatic groan, which earns you a laugh from nanami. he mimics your motions, before very politely gesturing for you to take your hand in his. his hand is warm, as you feel along the jagged length of the scar on his palm. he flips your hand over in his, before mimicking the exact motion and pressing against your almost identical scar as well.

if you looked at that one retrospectively, it was very foolish of you and nanami to slit slashes into your palms as a symbol of the promise to keep one another’s deepest secrets. granted, you attest most of the theatrics to the fact that you were twelve, that you were twelve and read far too many fantasy books, and that sometimes your head was stuck in wonderland. and while the premise of the action – of the two of you divulging each other's secrets to someone else was basically unthinkable now – the mark served as almost a soft spot.

the promise of your friendship. that like the scar that was indented into your skin, it was always going to be there no matter what.

“i really do apologize. i tried my best to get you out of it.” nanami adds.

you nod, absentmindedly leaning across the length of the chair to rest your head on his shoulder. he welcomes the touch, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into the lacy fabric covering your arms, as you mentally prepare yourself for the encounters that’s about to occur at this dinner. at the fact that most of them were going to be unpleasant, that you’d have to swallow down fake niceties for an hour, just to keep up appearances.

as the newly minted lord of his household, following the passing of his beloved father, nanami’s expectations and responsibilities went up tenfold. training new guards, making sure that all the soldiers are up to his standard, attending meetings with other prominent families in the area – the mix of all the events meant that you didn��t see him very often. definitely not as much as you did when you were growing up, significantly less than the first year that the two of you were married.

and when you became the respective lady of the house, if you could really even call yourself that, some of his responsibilities seemed to bleed into yours. there were dinners that you had to attend in lieu, pleasantries that you had to exchange on his behalf, and staffing protocols that you had to run.

the job was stressful. particularly stressful, because it required the two of you to keep up a very elaborate system of lies and ruses to keep people at bay. to make sure that you rehearsed your story over and over again, to make sure that you didn’t even give anyone a reason to question your relationship, to keep things as safe and secure as they were.

the truth was that you weren’t really the lady of the house, at least not in the traditional way. there was nothing standard about your marriage to nanami kento, because calling it that would be a disservice to the relationship that the two of you actually had.

you postulate that the more appropriate term would be partners. that in the twenty years that nanami kento lived across the courtyard, the two of you had forged your own version of what was important to a relationship. found your own way to protect your vested interests, which involved one another.

nanami had a very simple vested interest, which was to keep you safe. the shouting that he heard across the street didn’t fall deaf on his ears, and unlike others, wasn’t something that he could stomach to ignore. he was perceptive, a part of you was almost inclined to call it cunning, his solemn offer to protect you.

you had a very simple vested interest, which was to safeguard nanami’s happiness. and if that meant that you had to marry nanami kento for appearances, so that he could secretly convene with who he really loved behind closed doors, you’d do it over and over again. only because he’s deserving of love. and because his lover is awfully kind.

“i’ve switched guards. haibara is going to accompany you for the night.” nanami states.

“thank you. i appreciate that.”

nanami squeezes your hand once, as the carriage comes to a rocking stop.

“nonsense. there’s no one else i’d trust to keep you safe.

out of all the events that you were required to attend, you were least fond of the dinner parties. there was something suffocating about the ambiance – of the pink flush everyone had from the wine, the sweltering in the air from the high concentration of people, the food that made your stomach tense with pressure.

it’s why you duck out of there when they switch the plates for dessert which you know from experience is one of the only chances that you get. people were too busy – fawning over the chefs, complimenting the hosts – to notice that you had momentarily made your escape, which at this point, you desperately needed.

you make your way out of the main ballroom to the foyer, your quick feet leading you to the open balcony. there’s a quiet wind in the air tonight, sending a small coat of goosebumps across your arms, as you lean against the railing and eye the courtyard below. there’s old cobblestones, blanketed in the snow that fell two nights prior, and you wish you could run out there instead of having to retreat back in.

“are you not going to eat dessert?”

you basically flinch at the sound of the voice, deep and full at your side, as you put distance between yourself and the stranger who has materialized at your left. you take the quiet second to ogle him in full – snow white hair, bright blue eyes – before you clear your throat. he reminds you of the snow – the way his eyes glimmer in the crescent moon.

“i apologize. i was looking for the bathroom.”

he narrows his eyes at you.

“on the balcony?”

you swallow hard.

“i took the second to admire at the view. that’s all.”

he gives you a thoughtful nod, mimicking the position you were in earlier, by crossing his arms over the railing and looking down at the courtyard.

“clover blooms in the fields during spring.” he states.

“sorry?”

“you should return in the spring to see the clover blooms. do you like to look at views such as these?” he asks.

you give him a polite nod, before making a quick show of the sparkling ring on your finger. you were far too accustomed to the conversation – to the setting and parties like these – to know that there was an ulterior motive. that there was no way that he could have been asking simply to know. you can tell that he gets the hint, that he knows you’re trying to make it obvious from the way his eye falls to your hand, before he offers you a nod in recognition.

“i’m married.” you murmur.

“is that right?” he asks.

you take another step away, the backs of your knees hitting the railing, as you cross your hands over your chest and stick your freezing hands back into the warmth underneath your arms. there was something unsavory left in the air, mainly in the fact that you felt horrible when you had to reject people as such, as you attempt to terminate the conversation in any way that you can.

“yes.”

“does being married to nanami kento truly count?” he asks.

you feel your throat dry.

“sorry, what?”

he gives you a smile. there’s something glimmering in his eyes, a sensation, a feeling that you’re not able to place.

“does being married to nanami kento truly count when he’s very clearly got eyes for his beloved guard?” he asks.

you can feel your heart drop to the bottom of your chest. and from the look on his face, from the fact that he notes the immediate frown that graces your face, tells you that any attempt you would make to cover up would fall on deaf ears.

“that’s not true.” you whisper.

he leans forward, inching a few feet away from your face, before whispering. there’s a musky smell to him, resembling fresh pine, as he whispers back in response.

“how much do you want to bet, lady nanami?”

“is something bothering you?”

nanami kento is exceedingly polite. it’s very rare for him to push boundaries, for him to question or attempt to parse something out of you. it was one of the first things that you were able to appreciate about him – that he was curious, attentive enough to figure out things without you ever having to do the work of spilling it out.

the look in his eyes so unassuming – so calm – that there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to divulge what occurred. only because you can imagine the expression that’s going to follow, that you might not ever see the calm look ever again, and the safe bubble that the two of you had made such hard attempts to protect was going to pop.

“you were quiet the entire way over.” he adds.

the guards leave the room, all except one, as the doors to the main dining room are pulled shut. you note that haibara relaxes at his post against the wall, walking up to join you at nanami’s side, offering you a reassuring smile.

“someone knows.” you whisper.

nanami tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“what?”

“someone knows. about haibara.” you whimper.

the silence in the room is haunting. you look up to see that the two of them refuse to look at one another – that the gears in nanami’s head are turning, that the fear is settling in haibara’s chest – as you swallow hard.

you can’t help but frown at them. the calm look is gone. and replaced with something that you fear you’ll never get used to.

“who?” nanami asks.

“what happened?” haibara adds.

you shrug.

“i went to get air when they switched for desserts. this guy, he came and talked to me on the balcony. he…he asked me if being married to you counts when you’ve very clearly got eyes for your guard?”

you can tell that whatever flicker of hope that nanami was holding out for has diminished in quick seconds. that the hopes to make it out to be a misunderstanding, to ignore it all together were impossible, because someone had figured you all out. down to knowing that it was haibara that was behind the shut door at the end of the hall in nanami’s room.

there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“who’s that?”

“i invited someone from the party over. he’s an old friend of mine, i’ll…i’ll go retrieve him. we’ll discuss this later.”

you give him a nod, turning back to watch nanami swiftly march down the length of the hallway, before he disappears behind the corridor. you absentmindedly reach for haibara’s hand at your side, noting that he almost immediately interlocks his fingers with yours, as you feel the warmth burning in your eyes.

there was a difference in the way that nanami and haibara loved one another. something that was almost institutional, something entirely unavoidable.

it was the one thing that you and haibara had in common; that the two of you were willing to risk anything for kento. in the disastrous case that the two of them were found out, it was probable that haibara would be exiled. that he’d have to flee for having desecrated lady nanami in his illicit affair.

if nanami’s…predilections…were discovered, you knew for a fact that you’d no longer be allowed to keep your residence here. that no matter what defense you made, you wouldn’t make a slim escape that you did the previous time, that your parents would drag you back to that forsaken house by your hair if they had to.

and nanami kento would be alone. he’d be disgraced, surely people’s opinions of him would sway. but in the grand scheme of things, his solution was simple; to say that he was enticed, to move on as he was, to pretend like he had not forsaken the two people that he cared about the most.

on the heels of your worst nightmare coming true, nanami kento’s left in the dark, only because he can’t possibly understand what the two of you are going to be left to deal with in the aftermath.

“what are you going to do?” you whisper.

“run away.”

“what?”

haibara shakes his head.

“you could come with me. i would protect you.”

you shake your head.

“nanami can protect you.”

“but he shouldn’t.” he whispers.

you nod.

“he’d lose all credibility if…if he were to defend me.”

“he can come with us.”

you can hear nanami’s footsteps echoing down the hallway, animated chatter echoing against the walls as you let go of haibara’s hand, giving him one last look, before watching him retreat to his spot against the wall. you swear there’s a sheen glimmering in his eyes.

you run your hair through the loose waves left by the braid, massaging the tense points where the pins were digging into your scalp before standing up and preparing yourself to exchange niceties with the man walking down the hall.

only to find that nanami’s walking into the room with him.

the exact stranger that had cornered you on the balcony. you can feel your throat dry again, that he’s going to corner haibara while he’s actually in the room, that he’s going to rub your wrongdoings in your face, and you can’t help but reach for the stray knife that’s strewn across the table.

“we’re not exactly sure what we’re going to do.” nanami states, shooting you a halfhearted smile of acknowledgement as he walks into the room.

the stranger gives you a smile. and it sends a course of anger running through you, enough for you to clench the knife in your fist.

“this is your wife?” satoru asks.

nanami nods.

“she truly does care for you. evidently enough to get homicidal on your behalf.” he states.

“what?” nanami asks.

you watch as the stranger sticks his arm around nanami – that he’s so friendly with him that nanami allows it, that nanami’s must have made a grave mistake and that’s how you were found out – as he points towards your hand.

“she’s got a butter knife in her hand. and the look on her face isn’t exactly savory.”

“y/n. put the knife down.” nanami murmurs.

you widen your eyes at him.

“kento. that’s the guy.” you whisper.

nanami pauses.

“what guy?”

“the guy who asked me the question. the one that knows about…you know.”

nanami’s eyes widen – and you swear that you hear haibara release a breath of relief behind you – before turning back to the guy. this time you’re unable to place the look that’s simmering in nanami’s eyes, something that you’re assuming is a mix between searing anger and painstaking relief.

“did i do something?” he asks.

nanami gives him a peachy smile, before reaching forward and punching the stranger straight across the nose. there’s a bright crimson color that leaks out almost immediately, coupled with an obscene whining nose that comes out of his mouth.

you note that nanami takes the second to exchange a look with haibara, that you were right – that there was sense of unrelenting relief that they share, before you turn back to the two of them.

“what the hell was that for?” the stranger whines.

nanami wipes the red blood on his knuckles away with a napkin, before reaching forward and squeezing your shoulder once. in reassurance. that everything was going to be fine.

“you unnecessarily stressed my wife out. i’m almost inclined to let her stab you as she was intending.” he states.

“she was going to stab me?” he asks.

“you walked up to her and divulged our greatest secret. and left out that the reason that you knew was because i told you.”

“i figured that she knew. surely, she knows who i am.” he defends.

“as always, you give yourself too much importance, satoru. and knowing you, the fact that you purposely chose not to introduce yourself had to have been deliberate.”

you watch as haibara offers satoru a hand, extending him a napkin for the blood that’s dribbling out of his nose. satoru welcomes it, not without giving haibara an embrace on his own, before turning to give nanami a guilty smile. he only rolls eyes

“i’m satoru gojo. it’s a pleasure to meet you, lady nanami.”

you sigh.

“right. you’re his friend from…”

“vienna. correct.” he finishes.

you wipe your sweaty palms against the pleats of your dress before sticking your hand out and shaking his, the searing cold in his touch taking you off guard. he shoots you an apologetic smile, before placing one of his hands over his chest.

“my apologies for causing you distress, my lady. that was never my intention.”

you smile.

“from what i’ve heard about you, i’m inclined to believe that’s a blatant lie.” you states.

satoru smiles – at what you assume is mainly the fact that he was important enough to have been mentioned to you by nanami – before giving you a mock bow.

“guilty as charged.”

“i’d keep your jokes to a minimum while you’re here.” nanami states.

satoru ignores his comment all together.

“i didn’t get your name.”

“y/n.”

“he’s going to be staying in the room across from yours.” nanami adds.

you turn towards him.

“he’s going to live here?” you ask.

nanami gives you a sly grin.

“i’m sure he won’t be offended by your late night singing. god knows that he’ll join in if you start belting again.”

you can feel your cheeks burn. only at the fact that nanami’s divulging your late night habits to this stranger, this stranger who seems intrigued by what he’s just mentioned, and you shake your head dismissively.

“it’s not that. he’s more than welcome to stay, obviously, i would just…like a warning next time.”

“you know. you never did answer my question.”

you nearly flinch at the sound of satoru gojo’s voice, as you turn to find him seated on the bench in the middle of the garden. he’s less…less formal than the last time you saw him – his hair unstyled, his shirt plain – and with his legs crossed.

you divert your gaze back to the ivy that’s growing against the length of the pathway, make a mental note that you should probably trim it tomorrow, before eyeing the flower bed to your left.

“sorry. what was that?” you ask.

satoru pats the seat on the bench next to him, patiently waiting for you to join him at his side, before he even makes any attempt to divulge. you can tell that he’s not going to take no for an answer, that he’s very keen on interrupting whatever it is you’re doing here, and that he enjoys pestering you – for whatever reason.

you’re careful to keep a sizable distance between the two of you, as you take your place next to him.

“you never answered my question. do you enjoy looking at views like this one?” he asks.

“oh. right, from the other day. yes, i do.”

satoru nods.

“did you know that my room gives me a perfect view of this very garden?” he asks.

“i wasn’t aware, no. i’ve never been inside your room.”

satoru grins.

“do you need a formal invite?”

“what?”

satoru scoots closer to you on the bench, giving you an almost devious smile, before leaning closer and whispering.

“you have to know that you’re always welcome where i am.”

you roll your eyes, scooting to the edge of the bench, in attempts to put a distance between the two of you again. he takes the hint, learning back towards his side, before twisting the flower he’s very clearly plucked from the nearby tree in his fingers.

“i’ve seen you come down here every single day. once in the morning, once in the evening. you tend to the flowers on the left, sometimes you sit near the pond on the right. sometimes you trim the ivy.”

you make your best attempts not to make a face.

“are you cataloging every movement i make?”

“i make my best efforts not to. i can’t help that i’m so intrigued by you.”

“what’s so intriguing about me?” you ask.

satoru leans his head against the back of the bench, shiftling slightly closer to you, in order to bask in the slightest streams of light that were peering in between the leaves.

“wouldn’t it be easier for you to just trim the ivy from the garden for good?” he asks.

you shake your head.

“i love the ivy. and yes, sometimes it takes up space where it shouldn’t, but that’s just how ivy is. it grows wherever there’s room for it.”

satoru pauses, almost like he’s mulling the thought over, before he reaches for your wrist. his fingers are ice cold as he wraps them around your skin and maneuvers your hand so it’s facing palm up. you note that his eyes slightly waver at the jagged skin, before he places the flower in his fingers in your palm.

“kento has a very similar scar.” he notes.

you nod.

“my fault. i told him a secret. he told me one too. and we decided that a bloody shake on it was what he had to do to solidify the fact that we would keep one another’s secrets.”

satoru gives you a look. almost like he’s impressed.

“that’s some dedication.”

“kento is very special to me. in ways that i understand might be difficult to comprehend.”

satoru shrugs, as he wraps his fingers around yours, closing the flower he gifted you into your hold.

“nanami kento, who albeit i will admit is very attractive, made his very first moves on me when i came to vienna. and while i could empathize with his affection for me, hell i was even flattered, it was something that i couldn’t reciprocate. and by proxy, i tried to find solutions for him. like setting him up with friends of mine, guards that i had met on my travels.”

like haibara.

“granted, it seems that he didn’t even need my help. he’s found an almost perfect solution on his own. even your chefs and lady’s maids are sworn to your deep promises of loyalty. i will admit that i tried the same ruse that i played on you with them and not one of them gave in.”

you smile.

“i hand pick our staff myself.” you respond.

you pause.

“and our ruse is perfect.”

satoru shakes his head.

“while i’m inclined to believe that, coupled with the determination in your voice, my gut tells me that it’s not exactly true. it’s what peaks my curiosity the most, the fact that you so willingly participate, when you’re the one receiving the short end of the stick” he states.

you can’t help but be defensive.

“i get to live here. tend to the garden. my lady’s maids are very kind to me. nanami and haibara treat me with the respect, which is the bare minimum, but they’re also my closest confidantes. i’d even wager to say that…that in some strange way they’re my closest friends. that and the fact that i’m the one holding our sweet favor together means that things usually go my way, which definitely helps.”

satoru scoots even closer.

“that can’t be enough.” he whispers.

“enough for what?”

“you. their friendship, this garden – that can’t be enough for you to forsake the idea of love. of having your own partnership.”

there’s a sharp prickling in your chest, as you shake your head.

“i’m more than grateful for what i have. kento is kind, very kind, and he always has been. while he may not be my husband in the traditional sense, i…i do view him as my partner. he takes care of me. i try my best to do the same. most people would kill to be so lucky.”

satoru smiles.

“that’s not what i said.”

“what?’

“i didn’t ask you what you were grateful for. i suggested that there was no way that you could watch the two of them without yearning for what they have. that there wasn’t a part of you that craved for…to be that intimate too.”

“i am not fond of kento in that way.”

“not with kento. it’s evident that it’s strictly platonic; that and his predilections don’t necessarily work well in your favor to begin with. but someone. anyone. even just the idea of it, being someone’s closest confidante, in every respect.”

you slightly slump down in the chair.

“it’s a magnificent curse that you’ve given yourself. the exact thing that you long for is the one thing that you’ve set yourself up to not have. surely, nanami kento was not worth all of that?”

you shake your head. and he gets the message – that for you, it is.

“a fatal flaw.” satoru murmurs.

“what do you mean?”

satoru reaches forward, for the stray strands of the braid that fall loosely around your face, and tucks them behind your hear.

“exceedingly kind. with everyone but yourself it seems. so agreeable, it seems that you forget you’re part of the equation too.”

you pinch your lips in a line.

“i’m a phenomenal friend.” you joke.

“never been that good at the whole friendship thing.”

you scoff.

“i wonder why.”

he rolls his eyes in response, before extending his hand out to you. it makes you nervous, sliding your hand into his hold – accompanied by the course of energy that runs down your spine when you do – as he runs his thumb over the jagged scar on your palm.

“could i be so lucky as to be your friend?” he asks.

you feel your throat dry.

“what?”

he smiles again.

“are all friendships this demanding? surely, you won’t make me humble myself to make me ask again.”

you laugh.

“i can’t help but fear that you have an ulterior motive.” you murmur.

“well, that’s natural of course. but i can’t be so blatantly forward. i know i’m teetering in dangerous waters by flirting with a married woman. trying to romance her by drinking her husband’s wine.”

his blatant admission makes your cheeks burn, even in the dead of the night, when you rethink the conversation before going to bed. and in retrospect, that’s when you pinpoint it to.

the exact moment where satoru gojo plants his roots in your dreamland.

in the dead of night, you knock on nanami’s door. if you had your wits about you – which you almost never did – you would have avoided this all together. thinking through your decisions would have prevented you from interrupting what you did and the smallest part of you feels guilty.

“did you want something, y/n?”

nanami looks flushed. bright pink cheeks, the faintest beads of sweat on his forehead, and panting.

“why are you out of breath?” you ask.

nanami narrows his eyes at you. and it takes you three seconds to realize that you’ve interrupted him after the sun dipped past the horizon, the exact time that he’s asked you to give him his privacy, as you widen your eyes.

“oh god. kento, i’m…”

“no, no. it’s alright. i know you wouldn’t bother if it wasn’t something important. I’ll ask haibara to leave.”

you reach forward, grabbing onto the door, as you give nanami a pleading look.

“can he stay actually? maybe both of your input will be helpful?” you murmur.

nanami gives you a confused look, before giving you a kurt nod. he shuts the door – the quiet sound of muffled voices and scattering behind the door – before he returns, fully dressed this time with haibara at his side. the latter gives you a smile, gesturing for you to enter, as you take a seat at the vanity.

you would be offended on satoru gojo’s stance – that you were the one left with the worst cut of your deal – if it wasn’t something that haibara had said to you first. it was an impassioned defense that you heard from him moments before you married kento – that you were deserving of love, that he couldn’t let you sign your life away from him – and you can tell it weighs on him often.

you figure it’s why he’s so kind. why he’s so sweet. because he feels guilty for the potential he’s taken away.

“sorry. i didn’t mean to interrupt, i just…wanted some advice.” you mumble.

“we’re always here to help you. whatever you need.” haibara responds.

“what’s going on?” kento asks.

once you start talking, you can’t help but stop. you can’t help but go on and on – about satoru gojo, about how his piercing blue eyes send a shiver down your spine, that his earnest curiosity about you is something that you find endearing, a feeling you’ve you’ve never been privy to – to be the object of someone’s affections and it’s driving you insane.

“it’s ridiculous, kento. he…he asks me questions. all the time. about what i hated about grade school, why i dislike my mother, why i would suggest that you and i slit our palms to seal our promise. and the crazy part is that he seems intrigued by it – he actually wants to know about me.”

kento offers you a kind smile.

“is it so shocking to believe that someone would be interested in you? surely you don’t think so little of yourself.”

“it’s getting hopeless. every morning i go down to the garden early, i’m…i’m fidgeting with my hair for these moments that we steal in his free time. and it’s ridiculous…it’s ridiculous because i know it’s just begged and borrowed time, but god. god is this how the two of you feel when you spend time together? i’m…i’m itching for more and i’m insatiable.”

“well, i think that-” haibara starts.

“it’s like a goddamn fire. he makes these ridiculous jokes, he makes me laugh, and now i can feel him there in the pit of my stomach, and…and i can’t get rid of him. i’m scared that it’s never going to go away, that he’s just always going to have these roots in me because i’m so desperately fond of him, i love being around him so much, and it just…just makes me despair that he’s going to leave soon.”

you’re panting at the end of the rant, two wide eyed stares being offered to you, before they exchange a look.

“sorry, y/n. what was the question?” haibara asks.

you give him a breathy laugh before sinking back down to your chair and placing your head in your hands.

“this is…this is how the two of you feel, correct? I…i’ve never felt this way for someone before, i’d half convinced myself that i’d never know what it feels like to have someone care for me this way or want that for myself, but i just…that’s what it is right?”

kento gives you a smile.

“yes.”

you groan.

“you know, i’m starting to understand why you almost ran away, kento. not being able to exact these feelings is excruciating.” you murmur.

haibara gives you a confused look.

“why can’t you see it through?”

you look up at him.

“surely, i can’t.”

kento smiles at you again.

“why not? we’re certainly not morally opposed to it.” he states.

you feel your throat dry.

“you’re not?” you whisper.

kento closes the distance between the two of you. he holds his hand out to you, jagged scar facing up, as you place your hand in his.

“i mean. i find myself dreading every interaction that i have with him and unable to understand what you’re seeing. but surely you must know that i would have no problem with you pursuing…whatever it is.”

you sigh.

“really?” you whisper.

“of course.”

“well, i figured that you would. but…do you think that he likes me?”

haibara places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes.

“what’s not to like?”

you give the two of them a grin.

“the fact that i’m already married.”

the two of them laugh, enough for it to ease the anxiety that’s wavering in your stomach, as you sigh.

“i’m sure he can get over it.”

there’s a rapid knock at the door, the three of you sitting up as one of your lady’s maid shoots you a meek smile from the doorway, her quiet voice breaking the silence.

“lord nanami.”

“yes, what is it?” he asks.

“the nurses in the east wing told me to alert you that your guest has returned. he appears to be severely injured.”

nanami gets there first. haibara half drags you there. only because it makes your stomach wrench – knowing that satoru’s hurt, that he’s down the hallway writhing in pain, that he left on a dangerous mission without divulging where he was going.

“what was he there to do?” you whisper.

haibara frowns.

“he’s been negotiating to find a place in the area. and granted, his family’s powerful, and…and sometimes people make power plays with heirs and such and it’s…it’s really just semantics, i wouldn’t worry.” he murmurs.

you give haibara a nod, letting him push open the door to the dimly lit room in the wing, where one of nanami’s nurses is very carefully attending to a gash on satoru’s forehead. you can tell that most of the damage has been cleaned up – evidence by the loads of bloodied washcloths in the bin closest to you – as well as the acidic smell of the antiseptic lingering in the air.

satoru cranes his head to the door, earning him a scold from the nurse working on his forehead, as he splits a smile. you can’t help but feel the tears bubble up in your eyes as you close the distance, reaching forward to cup the side of his face and watching the dried red come back on your hand.

“why are you making that face?” you whisper.

he can’t help but smile – that the line he’s repeated to you multiple times is one that you’re parroting now.

“just thinking.” he whispers back.

“penny for your thoughts?” you ask.

you can feel the dryness in your throat as you dip your hand to where his is, the ice cold feeling sending a shiver up your spine. he mimics your motions, his hand finding its way to yours, as you look down at the intertwined fingers.

“nanami kento has just told me that you’re very fond of me. enough to be so worked up over it that you interrupted his…evening plans.”

you shoot nanami a glare over your shoulder, one that he merely shakes his head to dismiss, before you turn back and run your hand through the messy tresses of satoru’s hair.

“i’m not fond of you.” you murmur.

“don’t break my heart now. i’m already injured.” he complains.

you smile, at the attitude, before reaching for his hand that’s firm on your cheek and pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“well, don't act so daft and i won't say things like that.”

satoru scoffs.

“i did this for you. i can’t exactly live close by if i don’t make deals with people around here. and how was i supposed to know that they were out to get me?”

you laugh.

“just be careful. all of my pain fits in the palm of your hand.” you whisper.

satoru furrows his eyebrows at you.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you swallow hard.

“my heart’s yours. you can break it, especially if you’re being careless like this, so just….tread lightly, please.”

satoru looks over at you, eyebrows raised to mark his intrigue, as he reaches for the scar on your hand. it’s something that he touches often – soft fingers running down the length, his curious voice asking you to repeat the story over and over again.

“in the palm of my hand?” he asks.

you shakily nod.

“do i really hold so much power?” he repeats.

“well. you’re relentless. you’ve always been relentless and i just couldn't help it. it's all your fault" you groan.

satoru gives you an ear splitting smile, before shaking head.

"i disagree. ivy grows where there's room for it."

you reach forward and run your thumb over his lips. and he welcomes the touch, pressing a kiss to the scar on your palm, marking a new promise - one that he's privy to this time.

"you let it happen. just as hard as i was trying to pursue it."

an: what tf is going awn. also no way this is the first evermore song. AND I JUST REALIZED I'VE NEVER DONE A FOLKLORE SONG?

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

197 notes · View notes

ottosinventory · 1 year ago

Text

Almost got you, bitch

(Hazbin Adam x fallen angel!Male reader)

No warnings I think perhaps cursing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were a fallen angel.

You questioned heavens doings after finding out about the extermination, and of course heaven didn't like that.

When you fell, your best friend, Adam, was the most pissed off. Granted he was the one who told you about it one night when he was drunk and you had to get him home but he didn't know you were gonna make such a fuss about it.

You were in heaven, everything was fine you had your friends there, no one important to you fell before you, and most importantly you had him there, your best friend. Why would you care about those misfits in hell??

All though he shouldn't have been surprised, even though you put on a hard shell and make very similar jokes than himself you are a kind soul, a very kind one at that always helping others. But still, you fell, you are not here with him anymore. That sucked.

*flashback*

Heaven was a pretty new invention and adam and eve were trying to settle, for that god sent an angel, you.

When you knocked on the door adam went to open it.

"Who the fuck is here this early?" Was the first sentence he ever spoke to you.

Now you aint gonna take shit from nobody.

"Im the fuck who is here get you asses moving cuz we're going to heaven" you said with an equally annoyed tone.

Thats when Adam knew he liked you. And with the same amount of sass to each other the two of you became fast friends.

"I Almost got you, bitch" yelled Adam. You guys were playing flying tag cuz he just got his wings and they were completely new to him.

"You wish, fucker" you answer with a shit eating smirk. You were the one to teach him how to fight, the one who helped him through his divorce withe eve, you were his best friend.

*end flashback*

"...Shit" adam called seraphim, an idea occurred to him, how about they move up the next extermination, that way he has a reason to get down there sooner and bring you back, also slather some demons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up in hell, the first thing you saw was someone trying to cut out your organs.

"WAAHH...MOTHERFUC-- WHAT THE HECK R U DOING??" You jumped up and started yelling at the demon.

"Calm down pretty boy, the cannibals pay good money for fresh organs like yours."

"Well guess what jackass I dont give tiny rats ass how good those fuckers pay you my organs aint for sale" and with that sentence you quickly kicked him in the nuts and when he fell to the ground brocke his neck. Yeah...you were kind but god help people who mess with you...literally.

"Well shit, never had to fight without wings."

"...Interesting, and here I thought I would have to come to your rescue in exchange for your soul." Came a...static voice from behind you.

"Uhhh...thank you?? I guess, but there will be no taking my soul." You looked at the grinning man in a red suit.

"Such a shame, you'd be my first fallen angel"

"...Ok, listen can I help you with something ooooorr??"

"Not particularly I just wanted your soul, but alas that ship has sailed, however since you just fell I assume you have no where to stay" his grin stretched a bit as he said that.

"Well, you assume correctly but Im not gonna agree to any deal you have to offer just for a place to stay"

"Well, well, you are smart one even though angles can be so gullible, but no there is no deal the only thing you'd have to do is perhaps act nice"

"I can do that." you answered finally smiling at the strange man.

"They are coming" you whispered to yourself. After you arrived in hell, Alastor offered you a place in the hazbin hotel and you were happy to take it. This was over 7 months ago, in that time you grew close to everyone who was there, they were your found family and now you will protect them even if its against you first family.

Today was the day of the extermination, the day you'd have to fight heaven, the day you's have yo fight Adam. Even though you never admitted to yourself you had deeper feelings for him than friendship, but since he literally went around fucking bitches that kind of lowered your hopes.

The fight was raging on. Since you were the one who literally trained these exorcists they were no match for you. However Alastor was supposed to take on Adam, and that worried you. You knew how powerful Alastor is supposed to be but you have seen Adam's powers first hand.

Just as you suspected Alastor couldn't take on Adam. So Charlie had to take over which made you even more worried. You climbed up and saw Adam hitting Charlie into the hazbin hotel sign.

"NO" you yelled

Adam turned towards you with a smile that said he was ready to kill, that disappeared however when he saw that it was you.

"(Y/N)...."

He looked at you for a moment when someone punched him out of no where.

"Oh shit" you said while looking at Adam flying away and than back at who punched him. Lucifer.

"Lucy?" U asked baffled. You met him when he was still in heaven. Personally you loved his creative ideas while the making of earth so you guys would talk a lot. You also found it highly unfair when he fell and considered going after him, but Adam held you back.

"...Who--? SHIT (Y/N)? Omg why tf are you down here??" He asked half pissed half happy to see you.

"Well a little this, a little that, you know, also I fucking fell so." You replied while hugging him.

"How many of you fuckers do I have to beat before I can take (Y/N) home with me" said Adam very pissed after crawling out from the window he was punched into.

"What?" You asked

"I'm the only one that matters, you messed with my daughter and now Im gonna fuck you" said Lucifer proudly smirking. Everyone went silent while you were trying to hold back your laughter.

"Khmm...its fuck you up, dad" corrected Charlie

"Wait what did I say?" Asked Lucifer confused.

After this a kind of...fight started between Lucifer and Adam. Well, only adam was fighting Lucifer was mostly changing forms.

It was quite funny to watch.

At the end Lucifer won over Adam and he wanted to kill him, but your body moved on its own and you threw yourself at Adam.

Charlie also told his dad to stop.

You stood up from Adams body.

"Take your angel army, and go home" you told him in a soft tone.

He painfully stood up and looked at you with sadness...and something you couldn't quite place.

"(Y/N)..." come with me, please. Is what he wanted to say, but he knew you are still mad at him and that your answer will be no. Or he just didn't want to seem vulnerable in-front of demons.

"I Almost got you, bitch"

Your lips twitched upwards a little bit.

"You wish, fucker"

And with that the angel army and adam flew up to heaven.

When adam arrived in heaven, something downed on him.

"Fuuuuuuckkk..IM GAY-"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is he an (at best) mid white man who thinks he is the shit?

Yes.

Is he a fucking loser though and a lil bitch

Also yes.

BUT YK WHAT.

HE IS FUNNY AF I LOVE HIM AND HIS SONGS R FUCKING AWSOME.

HOPE MY FELLOW ADAM ENJOYERS LIKED IT THOUGH😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🦖🧡

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin adam #adam x reader #gay fanfiction

890 notes · View notes

miserycanary · 9 months ago

Text

PERSISTS IN DELUSION ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & reader

synopsis: you've left and what was left of Ghost (pt.2)

tags: I really don't know whether to tag this as fluff or angst

The clock hanging by the wall ticks persistently like a bomb waiting to break Ghost’s delusion that you’ll come back. Ever since that night, he has spent his time like a literal ghost. Barely eating, barely moving, barely living without you.

With each heavy step that he takes toward your shared bedroom—now bare—the pain in his chest drags him. “I’m home, baby..” he gruffs at the presence he tricked himself to think was still there. Dropping his things by the door, he moves so slowly and plops himself at the mattress that is now cold.. Like how it always was before you came into his life and warmed his whole body and soul.

Ghost isn’t a crier. Never was. He took all the beatings from his father without letting a single tear fall. He didn’t shed shit when he had to force himself out of the grave he was put in alive. Not even when he left with no family and had to witness that moment with his own eyes. Ever since then, he has swore to heaven and earth that they will never take anything from him again. Depriving himself of anything that could tie him down emotionally.

Then suddenly there was you in all your glory.

Face painted similarly to his as you hand the kids celebrating Día de Muertos candies. Ghost never thought he’d take a step back in this country but as if tugged by fate, he found himself surrounded with the similar decorations that started his nightmare. Yet all he could zero out on was you. And that moment, Ghost knew that heaven and earth were snickering at him, mocking him for what he swore long before was now forgotten.

As the crown dissipates, he takes all the scuffed pieces of his heart. “That’s a pretty flower,” he grumbles. He sees the way you flinch at the sudden person, turning around to see his towering self. Simon wasn’t stupid and he knew how intimidating he looked and expected you to be scared. His apology is already at the tip of his tongue.

“Thank you! Do you want it?” He stills, blinking at the unexpected reaction. “O-oh, yeah, thank you.” You, on the other hand, expected the giant of a man to take the delicate flower with roughness, even expecting some petals to fall yet he took it so gently. Simon plucked the stem from your hand, placing it on the wide expanse of his palm and leaning lower to expect it. “Pretty..” he mutters, and you almost agreed if not for the way he said it with his eyes on you.

Time passed and you guys were intertwined, lives and love exchanged throughout the two years he was with you.

Ghost fully expected you to run when he first told you about himself, but you stayed. You tore down his walls with patience and care, showing empathy for what he has gone through but never pity and that made him fall deeper. Now Ghost would be lying if he said he has relationship experiences but he knew that if he doesn’t take this opportunity, then he’d lose you before he even had you (he lost you either way).

But what could he do now? What’s done has been done. He could learn about a relationship all he wants but who matters the most to him is gone. With a new profound energy, he pulled himself up, opening the drawer beside him. He shuffles through the pile of things before pulling out what he was looking for. Sighing, he opens the box and stares at the engagement ring.

Taking you for granted was not his intention. When you started to cook him meals, take care of the dishes, and everything else, he thought this was the norm. His duty was just to spoil his pretty girl. He never found anything wrong with the dread and exhaust that paints your face everyday because he was used to the heavy weight and assumed everyone was like that. You never complained, so he thought everything was fine.

And he never wanted to snap back at you. He knew all about the sacrifice you did and gave for him, and how much you went through just to stay with him. He watches your eyes dim each time he tells you that you guys have to move once again or how broken you were when he found you at the hands of someone who wanted him dead. Loving him and being loved wasn’t easy but you did it with no complaints.

Now he had to go out and be stupid, letting you slip from his fingers just because he couldn’t carry his weight for some measly housework. The very next day that you left the house, staying somewhere who knows where, he bought a dishwasher and hired a cleaner. Try as he might to do the housework just to please you, he knows that his time won’t allow it. So, he tried his best to work around it with the hopes that you’ll come back, but where were you?

He has called your number multiple times after giving you enough space but no calls were returned. You were coming back to him, right? You won’t leave him, right?

You’ll still love him, right? You will. Ghost smiles softly to himself, kissing the ring while a shy tear slips. “You’ll look so pretty with this ring, darling…” he whispers to the presence that he tricked himself was still there.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: this is so long overdue. Sorry for the person who requested this because it took me this long!! 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

664 notes · View notes

felibrary · 9 months ago

Text

our love has always been 10 centimeters apart - aventurine

synopsis: the two times the both of you were away from each other even though the only thing you’ve longed for was each other, and the one time where the two of you find your way back to one another again.

pairing: aventurine x reader (gn) | wordcount: 2.0k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader cries a bit (tiny bit), mentions of alcohol and “sex” (an idiom = get into one's pants) but no graphic mention of sex + they’re not drunk, kissing, making up and making out (one kiss), tba if i find more, proofreading is for losers (its 4am (cet) i'm just too lazy); oneshot

tags: @azullumi (i swear that grey block with spikes from mario literally looks like "alpha sigma boss. you guys agree right?? prove azul wrong.)

img credits: @/magnolia29 on x!

a/n: i started this draft at like 12 an and procrastinated for god knows how long but yeah!! hope this is okay for what sleep deprived me wrote lmfao

“you seriously still wear that thing?”

aventurine points at the wool scarfs you’re wearing, it hangs a bit loosely due to you not wrapping it around your neck enough.

“yeah, got a problem?” you tease, grinning as you look at him. “it’s the first thing i got from you when i was moved to this department.”

ah right. he remembers the day vividly. they said that a certain member has risen quite quickly in the past few months and will now be moved to his department: the strategic investment department.

on the first day of work, aventurine, like the thoughtful senior he is, came up to you and greeted you, offering you a tour around the building and introducing you to the staff and everyone who worked here. you agreed and followed him as he guided you around your new workplace.

the two of you got along quickly, exchanging laughters and telling each other jokes as the two of you were strolling around the building. he remembers gifting you an expensive scarf, one made out of the finest wool in the whole galaxy. you thanked him wholeheartedly and at that he couldn’t help but invite you out for a drink - like the mindful senior he is, of course.

drinking after work became a little habit for the two of you. sometimes the two of you were able to drag veritas or topaz along, but usually veritas denied the invitations, saying “he doesn’t want to mush up his brain due to the alcohol.” as for topaz she usually came along to look after the two of you, but today it seemed like there was an emergency regarding numby, which she had to rush to immediately. leaving you and aventurine alone.

which led you to your current situation, the two glasses of alcohol in front of aventurine are left untouched, everything that happens right now is done with a sober mind. he can’t put the alcohol to blame.

your hands are close, they're a mere 10 centimeters apart from his. it takes everything inside of him to not take your hand in his and smother it in kisses, but he refrains, he can't - he shouldn't even be thinking about something like this.

your soft lips lean forward to meet his, they're a mere 10 millimeters away from his. you continue to launch forward, he doesn't move away, he can't move - he's frozen. you assume he granted you permission to kiss him. your hand snakes towards his, loosely intertwining the tips of your fingers.

your lips ghost over his - the distance between the two of you is gone, it scares him. he fears he might not be able to return if he goes this way.

aventurine can’t help but pull away from your tantalizing touch, it hurts him. but he’s scared.

he slips his fingers out of your grasp, lurching backwards, uncomfortably shifting on the big sofa and scooting back, to move away from you.

your eyes shoot open, clearly filled with confusion. your lips slightly part open and you tilt your head to the side, irritation is written all over your face.

"s-sorry." he apologizes quickly. "i don't think i'm made for this," he mutters. regret immediately overcoming him and you.

"ah, don't worry. i should be the one apologizing. i'm sorry. i shouldn't have just assumed your feelings. forgive me." you try to maintain a steady tone but your voice and expression betray you. your voice quivers - it breaks, it sounds like you're holding back tears that are about to spill at any given moment.

no, no , no this can't be. it's all his fault. he ruined everything once again, his gift was a mere misfortune, it only caused bad luck.

your hand that was once connected with his slithered away from its previous position, this time you really were gone.

perhaps this is when aventurine realized that the both of you weren't just mere inches apart but the distance between the two of you went beyond planets and galaxies and thus could never be conquered.

the two of you were worlds apart.

it’s been a few years ever since he’s seen you. (there hasn’t been a single day where he hasn’t thought about you.) apparently someone caught wind of what happened between you and aventurine, of course they reported it right away. initially it was planned to fire you, for making a move on one of the ten stonehearts, especially as someone who stood below him.

but aventurine convinced them not to do so, saying he’s also at fault and that they should just make you move departments, perhaps you’d learn from your mistakes. it was successful - he was beyond relieved. he didn’t show it, the only thing that was visible to them was a cunning smile.

behind it, beneath the faux smile, he was clenching his teeth, biting the insides of his lips so hard that they began to bleed (he wishes that you were there to trace the outline of your lips over his once again, mending to his wounds - both, the one on his lips and the one in his heart.) his left hand was trembling behind his back as he awaited their judgment.

eventually you did get moved to another department and aventurine didn’t visit you, too caught up at work and business matters on other planets.

(it’s a lie - he knows that himself, it’s just to avoid you. it’s for the better he thinks, better for the both of you to not meet. he fears that all the feelings he kept hidden inside his chest will return and turn his world upside down once again.)

one time he overheard some co-workers gossiping about “the person who got into mr. aventurines pants” getting sent onto a mission that’ll take several years. “what a pity that they won’t get to see him anymore.” a female voice giggles as the other voice hums in agreement and they walk away.

lies. all lies, it had to be. both that you “got into his pants” - hell it was a mere kiss that the two of you exchanged (not even a kiss because he shied away.) but it had to be a lie that you were sent away right? right? It’s just rumors, just some gossip that people need to pass their time, it can't be.

of course, to his dismay, it had to be true.

his luck was truly a misfortune.

spring has come, the remaining snow melts away and turns into puddles. the skies started to clear up and flowers that were once covered in snowflakes, hidden beneath the white blanket of snow, started to open up again, blooming in their full glory.

but there was another flower he spotted, one that stood out from the others - you. after all this time, he’s finally found you.

this time he doesn't falter.

he runs up to you. pulling you into a tight embrace as he hugs you. his nose is buried into the wool scarf you’re wearing, he took notice that it’s the same one he gifted you back then. your scent mixed with his still lingers on it.

“aventurine?!!” you shout, surprised to see him again after all those years.

“you kept it..” he whispers fondly. huh? you’re confused, what is he talking about? “the scarf i mean.” he says without looking up, as if he knew what you were thinking without having to see what expression you wear or hear your voice and which sound you’ve uttered.

“of course, i did.” you say bitterly. “after all, it's the last and only thing i have left from you.” you whisper, a frown finds its way onto your face.

“no. that’s not true.” he protests, finally looking up. it's just like the last time he saw you, your eyebrow furrowed, your eyes telling him that you’re on the verge of crying - similar to when he rejected your advances. “you have me now.” the words barely above a whisper.

“oh aeons, dont, please. i beg of you.” aventurine is quick to put his gloved fingers on your eyes and rub them softly, collecting the tear drops that are about to run down your cheek. “you know i hate seeing you like this.” he whispers quietly as he removes his glove from his hand and rubs circles over your cold and reddened cheeks.

“i missed you.” you hiccup in between your cries, aventurine continues to catch your tears, he won’t allow you to cry any more - especially because he’s the reason why you’re tearing up.

“pshh.” he tries to quiet you. “ive missed you too, probably more than you know.” as an attempt to reassure you.

“i’m here now, i’ll stay with you, i’ll follow you wherever you go.” he leans forward, this time he’s the one initiating the kiss and you gladly return it. his chapped lips meet yours, kissing you messily. there’s some biting and teeth clashing but he couldn’t care less, neither do you - after all this is what you’ve been waiting for.

there's no distance, no fronts, no walls to separate the two of you. he's never felt this kind of love - your love. he hasn't been held this lovingly for an eternity, this is the first time he actually somehow feels human.

boundaries is a word foreign to the two of you, they've never been there - they never will be there because from the beginning on aventurines heart has only sought after you.

it used to terrify him, the way his heart always seemed to jump out of his rib cage upon seeing you. the louder and faster the pumping got the closer you leaned in - just like back then.

but exactly because of that or rather because of you he discovered a new part of himself, diving into an ocean of emotions that were anchored to the bottom of the water, anticipating the daz they'll be discovered and treasured in one's heart. those feelings were unknown to him until he met you.

"what should i say once we meet again?", "what should i do to prove that i'm ready now and don't fear to love or be loved anymore?", "how can i prove my love to you?"

those questions have haunted him in his restless nights, the ones that made him wake up from his deep slumber where he dreamt of you, forehead glistening with cold beads of sweat, gripping his bed sheets tightly. (all of his thoughts and dreams are filled with you.)

the beauty of this world has always been hidden beneath a window curtain, he was oblivious - blind, just how breathtaking the world can truly be.

but you came along, pulling the curtains away, revealing the outside world to him. you stepped into his life and shattered the glass that kept him confined behind the window.

you confessed your unyielding love for him. you love him - you've always done and you always will - you imagined a future which he was a part of. where the vibrant colors of the sun not only greeted you but also him as he laid next to you, side by side. watching as the rising sun kisses your skin with its tendrils of sunshine.

(he'd follow the rays of sunshine and kiss the same spots they marked, he'd leave a trail of kisses along your body.)

how can he ever repay you for what you've done for him?

a mere thank you wouldn't suffice - not in a million years.

if you were to ask him if he'd give you the sun, the moon, the stars or the whole sky - he would.

if you were to ask him if he'd get on his knees for you - he would, no questions asked. be it when he prays to you, pleas leaving his lips and dripping off his tongue or when he'd kneel down on one of his knees to tie your shoes or propose to you - he would.

if you were to ask him if he'd stay by your side all night or rather all life long - he would. he'd be your light that'd guide you even though the flame went extinct, he'd be your flesh you'd nibble on, he'd be your blood you live off.

he wouldn't hesitate for a single moment, he'd give you everything you yearn and long for in a single heartbeat.

after all, that's the least he can do for you.

@azullumi here extra paragraph again hhihihihuuh anyway when's the stoner!chuuya x stoner!reader fic like where??? also azul i love you a lot. you deserve the best - you deserve the world. i hope you get accepted into your dream uni, get everything you've worked hard for (u deserve it, you're a person full of determination) and yeah convince ur teacher to extend the deadline!!

e/n: it's 4am rn im sooooo tired but yeah here!

#—stellaronhvnters.#felis staple of books ⋆·˚ ༘ *#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail fluff #aventurine fluff #honkai star rail x gn reader #honkai star rail imagines #aventurine hsr #aventurine x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #hsr fluff #hsr imagines #aventurine headcanons #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

433 notes · View notes

satoruhour · 1 year ago

Text

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.” the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

779 notes · View notes

criticallyinneedofadar · 3 months ago

Text

Royal Duties

I wrote three little one shots for the pole just in case lol so now I'm posting all three

Pairing: Gil Galad x Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning light filters through the tall windows of the grand hall, glancing off the polished stone floors and casting a warm glow over the rows of nobility gathered to witness court proceedings. You sit beside Ereinion, the high-backed throne beneath you feeling almost too formal for the mood between you and the king. Ereinion leans forward slightly, face carefully composed, yet his eyes flick over to you with the faintest glint of mischief.

As a particularly haughty lord delivers a speech about his region’s contribution to the realm, you barely manage to keep a straight face. Ereinion clears his throat softly, disguising a chuckle as he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, “I don’t think there’s a single person in this hall who doesn’t already know how ‘noble’ his house is.”

The corners of your mouth twitch, and you turn to him, casting a sidelong glance. “Do you think he’d notice if we slipped out the back?”

“Not if we leave the guards with a very good excuse,” he replies smoothly, casting you a look that suggests he’s half-serious. Then, with the practiced grace of a king who’s held this position for centuries, he adjusts his expression to one of benevolent patience, looking for all the world as though he’s deeply engaged.

The lord finally finishes, and Ereinion, without missing a beat, offers him a solemn nod. “Thank you for your… continued service,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips as the lord bows himself out of the hall.

The moment he’s out of earshot, you lean toward Ereinion, unable to hold back your grin. “Shall we give him a new title? Perhaps Lord of Long-Winded Speeches?”

He bites back a laugh, the sound escaping in a soft breath. “Consider it granted. I’ll have the scribes make note of it.”

The two of you exchange a look, and for a heartbeat, you’re just Ereinion and… well, not the queen, not here under the judgmental gaze of court. Just the two of you, sharing an inside joke.

After several more interactions with various lords and advisors — all of whom seem to be vying to one-up each other — you and Ereinion finally manage a brief escape. You slip into one of the palace gardens, hidden by high walls and leafy trees, where the murmur of court life fades into a distant hum.

He grins, glancing around to make sure no one followed, then gives you a low bow, offering his hand. “My lady, might I steal a dance?”

You raise an eyebrow, taking his hand with mock formality. “I thought we’d save that for the next dreadfully dull council meeting. Just to keep them on their toes.”

“Good point,” he replies, spinning you under his arm in a quick flourish. He catches you in a mock-dramatic pose, his face so close that you can feel his breath, warm against your cheek. His eyes linger on yours, and the flirty banter fades for just a moment as he holds your gaze.

“Should we head back?” you murmur, aware that duty awaits — and that the more time you spend away from court, the more questions you’ll face.

But Ereinion only shrugs, his smile unmistakably mischievous. “Let them wonder. The king and queen deserve a moment to themselves, don’t you think?”

Ereinion’s hand is warm in yours as he spins you down the marble halls, your laughter mingling with his in the quiet, echoing corridors. The two of you move in perfect sync, each step lighter than the last. He dips you dramatically, and you stifle a laugh, whispering, “You know, this isn’t exactly dignified for the High King and Queen.”

“Good thing we’re in the far wing, then,” he replies, grinning as he pulls you upright again. “Besides, a little undignified behavior keeps things interesting.”

You can barely reply as he whirls you around, catching you just as you’re about to stumble. This side of Ereinion, so full of laughter, the sharp edge of command nowhere to be seen—it’s a rare thing, and you savor every second.

Just as he’s twirling you under his arm again, a figure appears at the end of the hall, stepping out from around a corner with raised eyebrows and a barely suppressed smile. Elrond crosses his arms, watching you both with an amused shake of his head.

“Oh, how regal,” he drawls, a glint in his eyes. “The High King and Queen, so tirelessly devoted to their duties, I see.”

You straighten, feigning the most queenly look you can manage despite the laughter bubbling up. “Elrond,” you say sweetly, “do you think I wouldn’t relegate you to writing our correspondence for Lord of Long-Winded Speeches?”

At this, Ereinion throws his head back, his laughter filling the hall. It’s deep, genuine, and utterly without restraint, echoing off the high ceilings as though he hasn’t laughed this freely in an age. Elrond stares, visibly startled, as his king—the indomitable Gil-galad, ruler of the Noldor—doubles over, still clutching your hand, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

You join him, feeling the tears gather in your eyes as you squeeze his hand tighter, both of you struggling to compose yourselves. Elrond looks between the two of you, his expression utterly dumbfounded.

“Truly,” Elrond finally says, “I’ve seen many things over the years, but this…” He shakes his head in mock exasperation, trying and failing to hide a grin of his own. “I’ll leave you to your… ‘royal duties,’ then.”

With a smirk, you give him a little wave. “We’ll leave you to your actual duties, Elrond. Someone’s got to keep up the kingdom’s standards, after all.”

As he walks away, muttering under his breath about “giggly rulers,” you turn to Ereinion, whose face is still lit up with laughter.

“Shall we?” he asks, still a little breathless.

You both head down the hall, still snickering quietly, leaving a thoroughly shocked Elrond behind. And as you walk hand-in-hand, you can’t help but feel that these moments—the ones stolen from duty, spent in laughter—are what make this life with him complete.

#gil galad x reader #gil galad x you #ereinion gil galad #high king gil galad #gilgadaddy #the rings of power #fanfiction

197 notes · View notes

patito-oward · 8 months ago

Text

Always Been You

masterlist

Prompt: And the other is about how Pato falls in love with the reader, just how he says "oh yeah she's THE ONE"

since this prompt was pretty vague I took a lot of liberties with it, but I still hope you like it :)

Summary: After being dumped by his long term girlfriend, Pato realizes everything he’s ever wanted in a relationship has been right in front of him

WC: 4.1k

It happened very suddenly. Here’s the thing, Pato didn’t mean for it to happen at all. On the list of things he had planned for the year, this was definitely not on it. A 500 win? Definitely. A championship? Yep. Extending his contract with Mclaren? Right again. But starting the off season by being dumped by his long term girlfriend and realizing he’s in love with his best friend was not anywhere in his mind.

It all started at the last race of the season, Pato was leading the championship, and granted he got a podium on this race he would finally have his championship victory. To celebrate and support, almost everyone he knew came to Nashville. Pato rented out a block of rooms at a hotel, and one of the many people who showed up for him was his childhood best friend, YN.

So maybe it all started in 2008, when YN and Pato were in second grade and met on the playground at recess. YN was sitting on the swings reading a book when Pato approached her, he was new to San Antonio and didn’t have any friends, and wanted to know if they could be friends. From then on the two were inseparable. Pato was a daredevil at heart, and would often hurt himself, and YN would take the delicate time of walking him to the school nurse and kissing his injuries better. Pato always made YN laugh, and made sure she was never sad, no matter what happened in YN’s life, Pato was there everyday to make her smile.

As they got older their relationship changed, it lost a little bit of their childish innocence, but they grew so much closer. YN was at Pato’s first win in karting, and she was more excited than he was. When YN’s childhood dog died, Pato was at her house at 6:00 AM and spent the whole day with her, trying to cheer her up. They’d even started their own holiday traditions, every year on Christmas Eve, the two of them spent the day making cookies together and exchanged presents. YN had practically become family, she didn’t have the best home life, and the entire O’Ward family was so loving that she ended up spending more time with them than her actual family.

The two dated for a few months in eighth grade, and were each other’s first kiss, but when Pato began racing for F4 and was in France every weekend the two agreed it was best they just stayed friends. Since then that is all they had been, things in YN’s home got significantly worse as they went through high school and despite whatever Pato may have felt, he knew she needed his friendship and wasn’t willing to risk their relationship.

With Pato coming up through Indycar and YN being a full time student and having a job, it was easy to assume the two would drift after high school, that was never the case. They still saw each other everytime Pato was in Texas and Pato made sure YN made a couple of races every year. She remained his biggest supporter as he went from her hometown best friend to the most popular driver in Indycar.

Fast forward to now, things were going pretty perfect for Pato. He finally won the 500, he’s about to win the championship, and he’s got a great girlfriend, Maria. He figures he’ll marry her, he does love her, she’s supportive and nice and insanely hot. They’ve been dating for over a year and things have been going really well. The only time they’ve ever really fought is over YN, when she found out there was a “history” between them, and in hindsight Pato realizes maybe he should’ve told her sooner, but he never really thought about it. Yeah they’d dated for a few months a lifetime ago, but she’s always just been his YN, he doesn’t even think of her like that anymore. YN was one of the most sure things in his life, and sure for awhile he always thought what if?, but that was in the past.

All that being said, he didn’t think twice about inviting her to Nashville to watch him possibly win the championship. YN wasn’t able to make it to the 500, or any other race this year, and he wished she was there. She knew more than anyone how much this had meant to him, coming up after losses she was always the person he went to, and he wanted her to see him now that it had all been worth it. YN was reluctant to come, but after a lot of begging from Pato she agreed.

Thursday night he made sure everyone he invited out came to dinner with him at a steakhouse. There were 20 people at the restaurant, but Pato ended up with Maria sitting next to him and YN sitting across next to Elba. Maybe Pato should’ve realized it, the tension in her shoulders and how Maria’s smile tightened as he laughed at YN’s jokes, but he didn’t. So Maria sat there all night, and she really tried to be understanding, but she felt as if she was third-wheeling her own relationship. She had to listen to a million inside jokes she didn’t understand, and watch as his family fawned over YN.

It was at that dinner she realized that she’d spent a year dating a taken man. Pato was too good of a man, she knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it became undeniable. As she watched him, she realized everything she felt for him, he felt for the woman across the table. At first she felt possessive, the need to prove that he was her partner, and that no matter what he’d chosen her over YN, but as time passed she felt less possessive and realized that there was no way to continue the relationship. It wasn’t fair to her, she deserved a man who loved her and only her, and Pato deserved to be with the person he loves.

After the dinner, they headed back to the hotel where Pato, who was utterly clueless of her realization, continued to be the perfect man, only making it so much harder for Maria to leave. She didn’t know how long she should let it go on for, if she broke things off now would she be getting in his head and ruining the weekend for him? Would continuing a relationship she’s already checking out of be just as cruel? Could she stand the rest of the weekend watching her boyfriend making heart eyes at another woman?

After sleeping on it, or rather not sleeping very much at all, she’d come to the conclusion that a clean break was best for everyone. They ordered breakfast to the room and as they sat at the small dinette she knew she had to bring it up.

Pato was halfway done with his breakfast, but she hadn’t eaten much at all, mostly just pushing her food around with her fork. “Pato, I think we need to talk.”

It’s rare that she’s this serious, and Pato knows that can’t be good, his silverware clatters as he sets it down and looks up at her. “Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

She hesitates for a moment, not knowing the best way to start the conversation. “It’s YN.”

Pato’s shocked, he doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that, “What about YN?”

She figures there’s no reason to beat around the bush, “You’re in love with her.”

Pato’s a lot of things, surprised for sure, but also shockingly defensive and angry. “What? Babe, that’s ridiculous. I know you were upset about us in middle school, but I swear there’s nothing going on! I would never even think about cheating on you!”

She rested her hand on top of his, “I know you would never cheat on me, and I know you said there’s nothing and I believe you, but I saw the way you looked at her, and how she fit into your life, and it makes so much sense because you love her.”

Pato doesn’t really know what to say to that, “I love you.”

“But you are in love with her. Listen I love you, Pato, and you’re such a good man, but it’s not fair to either of us to continue this relationship. Not when your heart clearly isn’t in it.” Maria struggles over her words, voice cracking and eyes watering, but a soft smile is on her face as she says them.

“Are you saying what I think you are? You’re just giving up?”

“Pato, I’m letting you free, tell her how you feel, you deserve that kind of love.”

And maybe what she’s saying finally resonates with him because the best thing he says is, “I never meant to hurt you.”

She lets out a broken laugh at that, a single tear rolling down her face, “Oh, Pato, you never could, we aren’t meant for each other, but we still had a lot of fun, right?” He nods at her.

After that she’s on a plane and back to her home before he knows it. Pato’s sad, he feels a little empty, someone who had been such a big part in his life just walked out leaving the biggest mess in her wake. He thought about her words, but shook them off. He loved YN, of course he did, but it wasn’t like that, she was like a sister to him.

Although it’s not his sister he messages asking if she wants to come over. YN is at his hotel room within a minute of him sending the “you busy?” text. YN asks where Maria is, but all he has to say is “gone.” and YN knows to drop it.

YN knows him better than anyone, knows that he has an irrational fear of being destined to fail at every relationship. She knows he has never actually broken up with a girl, only ever been broken up with, and she knows he spent over two years single because he was afraid of being hurt. But she also knows that there’s no way anyone could spend more than an hour with him and not be in love with him, God knows she is.

It’s the way he knows her, inside and out, but it’s also the way he makes everyone around him laugh, and spends hours interacting with his fans to make them all happy, and how caring he is with animals and babies. YN is only human, how is she supposed to feel when her insanely attractive best friend is doting over her niece?

YN puts it all aside because she’s his best friend first, she’d made that promise to herself a long time ago and she’s always kept it. She sits with him and watches Friends reruns with him, he’ll talk when he wants to, but until then she’ll be by his side.

They don’t end up talking, the one good channel the hotel room has switches from Friends to Modern Family, and then Pato has to go practice. A quick google search helps her find the best tacos in Nashville, so while he’s gone she runs out to get them dinner. They had dinner plans with his parents and Elba, but YN texted Elba long ago to let her know that plans were changing. He’s a superstar, so of course he doesn’t let his life affect him and it still the fastest person in the first practice, YN thinks that’s a good sign.

When he returns he seems to be a little better, talking to YN about track conditions over their dinner. YN has had enough of waiting for Pato to bring it up, and she can tell he’s feeling better, so she has to work up the courage to ask him what happened.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Maria or am I supposed to guess?”

His smile drops, turning into one that’s much smaller and forced. “She just left.”

“No explanation? She just woke up and was gone?”

“Oh, she had an explanation but it was bullshit. She probably just got tired of me, it's no big deal.”

YN furrows her brows at that. “Pato stop it, you’re so great anyone would be so lucky to be with you. Maybe there was some merit behind what she said.”

“Well she said I was in love with you, but I told her so many times we’re just friends and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

YN’s stomach sinks at that, it’s not like she expected him to confess his love, but he didn’t need to friendzone her that hard. “Oh.” Is all she can think to say.

“I mean you’re great, but you’re like a sister to me!”

YN forces out a laugh, “Right.” She also can’t help but feel like maybe it’s her fault this all happened, was her pining really that obvious? “Well then, she’s stupid for leaving because she’s not going to find anyone better.”

Pato’s smile is genuine for the first time since the conversation started, “Thank you, you’re the best friend I could’ve asked for.”

“Right, and don’t forget that when you’re trying to figure out what to do with all your championship earnings.”

He lets out a real laugh at that, a stark contrast to how mopey he’d been the rest of the day. “One, greedy, and two, I’m not buying you anything else. I'm tired of you getting mad when I spend money on you.”

“Pato, a graduation gift is fifty bucks, not a two thousand dollar tennis bracelet.”

He leans back in his seat and shrugs, smirking as he says, “Yet I’ve never seen you not wearing the bracelet.”

YN’s eyes go to her wrist where, sure enough, the bracelet was, just like everyday for the past three years. When Pato gave her the bracelet she refused to take it, saying it was too much and he needed to return it. After arguing for ten minutes she thought he’d finally agreed to take the bracelet back, but found it later sitting on her dresser. “What can I say? You have good taste.”

The rest of the night mirrored the morning, but had a much different tone, the two of them sat sprawled out on the couch quoting the episodes of Friends that were on, having seen them so many times they were known by heart.

When YN went to her own hotel room Pato realized how empty the place felt again, something he hadn’t noticed all day. He chose not to think too hard about how effortlessly YN took up space in his life.

The next morning, Pato had already scheduled to have everyone meet in the lobby so he could take them to the track for the day. YN had clearly told everyone about Maria because despite some odd looks no one asked about her and he was grateful for that. He didn’t think twice when everyone began to split into different cars and he pulled YN along with him, or when they arrived at the track and Pato sent most people up into a suite, but brought YN and his immediate family to the pits. Maybe that’s how it’s always been, and how it’s supposed to be.

Pato gets swept up in work for the rest of the day and YN gets to spend some real time with her second family. As soon as they’re alone, Elba doesn’t hesitate to start interrogating her.

“What happened with Maria?”

“Apparently she told Pato he’s in love with me and just left.” YN shrugs as she says it, still a little puzzled by the whole thing.

“Huh.”

“What? No ‘huh’ I know what that means just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I just thought Maria knew by now and didn’t care, maybe she’s not as smart as I gave her credit for.”

“What do you mean? Knew what?”

“Come on, YN, Pato’s been in love with you since you were nine, I wouldn’t want to be dating him.”

YN is struggling to process what she’s hearing, and automatically turns to deflection. “He is not.”

“Oh my god.” Elba starts giggling maniacally.

YN has no clue what could be funny, “What!?”

“You’re in love with him too!”

“I am not!” Despite her refusal, YN can feel and Elba can see the heat rising up her neck.

“You totally are! All this time I thought you had to know it’s so obvious, I mean, he follows you around like a puppy, but you had no idea!”

“Ok, keep your voice down.” YN puts her hand over Elba’s mouth really not wanting anyone else to hear their conversation. “Even if I did like him, and I’m not saying I do, he does not feel the same. I mean you should’ve heard how hard he friendzoned me yesterday.”

Elba looks sympathetic then, “Babe, I think my brother has spent so long denying himself what he wants he doesn’t even know what that is anymore. I love him dearly, but relationships are not his strong suit.”

“Then I guess we’re at a stalemate because I am certainly not going to be the one to ruin our friendship.”

Elba’s exasperated, “Oh my god, you two are exhausting!”

By the time Elba finished her intervention, qualifying finished resulting in Pato getting the pole. Mclaren has been dominant the last few weekends, and this weekend is no different with all three cars in the fast six. Pato is in the driver’s lot, getting ready to head back to the hotel, everyone else had dispersed from the track, and Felix has tracked down Pato and is calling after him.

“Hey, Felix! What’s up?”

“Bro, you’re about to win this fucking thing.” There’s nothing but excitement from Felix for his best friend.

“I know, I just hope tomorrow is a clean race and we can bring this thing home.”

“You’ve got this, I know it. Hey, where’s Maria been all day?” Felix says it like he’s just realizing she’s not around.

“Who knows. Yesterday morning she woke up determined that I’m secretly in love with YN and got on the next plane out.”

“So you guys are done?”

“Yeah about as done as you can be.”

“And YN?”

“YN is my best friend.”

“No, I'm your best friend.”

“Sorry, Fro, even you lose to YN.”

“I don’t want to win what YN is winning.”

Pato rolls his eyes and stomps his foot, huffing, “And what exactly is YN winning?”

Felix puts his hands up in self-defense, “Listen, all I’m saying is if you looked at me like you do YN, I think Emille would feel threatened.”

“Very funny.” Pato kicks the ground, staring at his shoe, he thinks about his relationship with Felix versus his with YN, sure it’s different, but him and YN have so much history. “Look, I don’t know what I feel for YN, but I don’t care either because she’s too important as a friend for me to lose her.”

“Mate you’ve been practically dating for years, I don’t think making it official will ruin anything.”

With that last piece of advice Felix takes off, leaving Pato alone with his thoughts. The whole drive back to the hotel and the rest of the night he spent thinking about YN. If everyone closest to him is saying one thing, how could they all be wrong? He thinks about everything they’ve been through together.

His first win in karting when she was the first person he ran to when he got out of the car; how she comes to every family reunion and often traveled to Mexico to spend time with his family; their senior prom when she was sad about not having a date, but she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen that night; except for Christmas mornings when she’s in her pajamas and he gets to watch her eyes light up as they answer presents together. Maybe it’s been in front of him all along. What’s been missing from all of his other relationships has been right there.

It’s a lot to take in, but it doesn’t really matter because, like he told Felix, he wouldn’t risk their friendship if she doesn’t feel the same. He can handle a trail of failed relationships, but he could never handle losing YN. He went to bed that night knowing he had to just focus on the race and on bringing home the championship.

The next morning he’s awoken by a knock on the door. “Patricio! Open up, room service!”

He knows who’s behind the door before he opens it, there’s only one person who cares enough to bring him breakfast. When he lets YN in he sees the bag full of takeout food from a nearby diner. “Breakfast of champions, for the champion.”

Of course she’s already decided he’s a champion before the race. No one has ever believed in him as much as her. “Calm down, I don't want you to jinx me.”

“Au contraire my friend, a jinx would mean you’re winning by luck, and you are winning by sheer talent.”

It always amazes him how smart she is in the morning, he knows no more than 5 words for a solid hour after waking up, and she’s always speaking a million words a minute. “7AM is too early to be speaking another language.”

“Aw, pobrecito, ¿estás cansado?” She knew very minimal spanish, but had picked some up from time spent with his family, and used it pretty exclusively to tease him.

“You’re so not funny my brain hurts.” He is slouched over the table with his head resting on his arms.

She begins to unpack the food in front of him, “Alright, come on, time to wake up you’ve got a big day.”

The smell of eggs and bacon is what gets him to lift his head and start eating. He tries not to focus on the fact that she got him exactly what he eats every race day because that’s a can of worms he doesn’t want to touch. Regardless he eats the meal, and is sad when she pulls out her pancakes and begins to eat with him. She offers him a bite which he takes, but they both know he won’t eat any more than that because he doesn’t like big meals before a race.

After they finish, YN starts picking up their trash and Pato thanks her, “You take such good care of me, can’t believe you brought me breakfast I’m not worthy.” She’s glad for her back being turned to him because she can feel how much she’s blushing.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, leave it to YN to be the eye in his hurricane, bringing calm before the storm. The race was close, a shitty pit stop meant Pato had to make some big passes to make up position, but Pato ended up pulling away with the final race win of the season and the championship.

YN and Elba leave the suite a few laps early so they can be on pit lane when he gets the win. After his victory lap and celebratory donuts he pulls into pit lane. Immediately his crew is flooding around him as he struggles to get out. Once he does there’s a giant group hug around Pato. Rossi and Fro also both make their way to his pits to congratulate him.

When Felix pulls Pato into a hug he whispers into his ear, “Why haven’t you gone to your girl yet, she’s waiting for you.”

Felix’s words had weight to them, all these people were surrounding him, but none of them had been on this journey with him as long as her. She waited for him for the last 15 years while he chased a career and different women, and now he’s at the peak of his career, having everything he ever wanted, and she’s not the one by his side. It hits him like a ton of bricks how bad he wants her to be the one celebrating this win with him, and every win for the rest of his life. Walking over to YN he pulls her into a hug, hoping that everything he’s feeling can be conveyed through the touch.

YN is in his ear, “I’m so proud of you, I always knew you could do it.”

He can’t find the right words, so all he says is, “I’m so glad you’re here.” he’ll explain later.

Holding her in front of thousands of people, Pato isn’t scared of losing their friendship anymore. He’s not sure of a lot, but he knows they’ll be ok, and that he’s loved her since before he knew what love was.

#pato o'ward #indy car #pato o'ward x reader #pato o’ward fanfiction #pato o’ward imagine

279 notes · View notes

clownyclaushoe · 1 month ago

Text

art the clown/clowny claus x reader 🔞

a very belated christmas oneshot 😅😭🙈 because for some reason i really struggled with this one 😭😭 it takes place during the bar scene aka one of the best scenes in cinema with a much different, but debatably better ending than santa getting turned into a snowman 😈🤭 inspired by a dream i had of clowny claus eating my pussy while lying on the bar top 😫

it's a christmas miracle!

🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

you had stopped into a bar after your shift at work - it had only been six hours, yet it'd felt infinitely longer. it was the holiday season, so on top of being busier than usual, no matter how kind, patient, or good you were at your job, the holidays had only made everyone act more impatient, rude, entitled, and frankly, dumber, especially the customers you served at the small diner down the street. it seemed they missed the peace on earth and goodwill toward men memo. you'd often come in after your mid-shifts, becoming acquaintances of sorts, that soon lead to flirtation (and a little more), with the owner, eddie.

you sat at the far side of the bar and nursed your beer, a few stools away from the two girls throwing themselves at the guy dressed as santa, not taking the hint when he'd politely declined, mentioning he had a wife. though there was no judgement and he far from your type, you stared on as they continued, amused by the entertainment for the night. you and eddie exchanged incredulous glances, and had to bite back laughter at the things they said in an final attempt to sway the santa ("can i join the mile high club on your sleigh?" "i wanna do drugs on your stomach!") before stumbling towards the exit.

as they were heading out, you noticed a... clown? a christmas clown? was excitedly coming in, scrambling to make it down the steps and knocking the drunk girls over in his haste to make it into the bar and over to santa.

you watched the interaction between the three men and the odd silent clown, and this time, it's because you were interested in the mysterious man. there was something about him, a charisma and an energy about him that instantly drew you in. and despite his gaunt face and pointed nose - which you figured were prosthetics under the white, pasty makeup - and his slender body, it struck you how fucking hot you immediately found him.

some of his over-the-top expressions made him appear inhuman, like a curious otherworldly creature, and you had to admit, you found that attractive too. you'd hoped he had noticed you too, but didn't want to get your hopes up. he seemed a little too caught up in fanboying over santa to pay you any attention, unfortunately.

granted, he did look cute in the santa hat. "hey, santa, looks like you got some competition," said the man called smokey, one of the bar's employees, who usually stopped in on his off nights for a few. "it's clowny claus!"

the clown waved his arms, posing with his hands in a "tada" gesture, mouth open wide with a grin.

"no. hey, you're a natural," santa said. the clown smiled, and waved his arm at the flattery. "you look good. but don't get it dirty. and remember to give it back. you don't want to get on santa's naughty list."

the clown gave a surprised expression, shrugging and raising his arms, as if feigning innocence and suggesting any of his wrongdoing was because he just didn't know any better. you smirked to yourself, thinking of the ways the clown might want to get on your personal naughty list.

"hey, why don't you tell santa what you want for christmas, little boy?" smokey joked.

you thought, if this man wants his dick sucked in this bar, i'd be on my knees in an instant. though you knew you should feel guilty that you'd think of blowing another man in front of eddie, you also weren't committed to each other. yes, eddie was hot, and yes, a few times your flirtation with him crossed the line into making out, and it felt good to have his strong hands on your hips or squeezing your clothed tits or ass, to tease your hand over the crotch of his jeans, feeling him hardening for you.

but you made it clear to him from the start, you were just having fun and weren't interested in anything serious. you hoped, yet doubted, he would remember that.

"better hygiene," suggested eddie, who was working as bartender tonight, as he often did.

"all right, come on," said santa, trying to brush over the dig at the clown. "let's have a drink, uh, for everybody. okay. come on. even the young lady over there."

you saw the closed mouth crooked smile eddie gave you, a twinkle in his eye that betrayed his feelings for you. usually you would've smiled back, loving and preening at the attention from the older man, maybe saying some suggestive comment to provoke him. but not tonight, your desires lie elsewhere this time.

you looked at the other three patrons, surprised to find the clown staring at you, making eye contact for the first time - sending a shiver right through you, down to your core. he grinned and batted his eyes, then quickly looked away, as if he were bashfully flirting with you. your heart fluttered at the idea.

you approached the men, standing near the clown still sitting on santa's lap, the chair holding his mysterious big trash bag making it so you couldn't be as close to him as you'd like to be.

"got id?" eddie asked, and you couldn't help thinking his voice was tinged a little with bitterness and indignation, a subtle jealousy in his stance. he had to have seen that you couldn't take your eyes off the clown. but then again maybe he was just doing his job.

"come on. he's obviously old enough," santa said, as the clown gave a surprised O expression, and turned to dig through his trash bag.

"you think i'm gonna lose my license for this guy?"

"don't bust the clown's balls."

"this is normal to you?"

"sorry about this, clowny." the clown pulls out a wallet, tossing it on the bar top. "there, see? he's got it."

eddie looks at the clown with a brief glance of self-satisfaction as he grabs the wallet, opening it.

"'maurice jackson'?" you can't hold back a laugh at the disbelieving way eddie says the obviously phony name. "maurice" tills his head, grinning and batting his eyes rapidly, looking absolutely adorable.

you think, how could anyone refuse that face?

"eddie, you're killing me. can we just celebrate? come on."

"fuck it," eddie said, pushing the shots toward each of you, and you slip between the two chairs, leaning against the bar top to grab your glass of tequila, which eddie knew was your shot of choice. "it's christmas."

"all right, let's have a drink. to my new friend, huh? to maurice jackson."

"cheers!" you each clink glasses before downing your shots. a moment passes before the clown spat his shot in santa's face. smokey bellowed with laughter and you join in a little, unable to stop yourself.

"what the fuck is the matter with you?"

"what's your problem, pal. guy buys you a drink and you spit it back in his fucking face!"

"hey, man, that's wrong," smokey said, despite his initial reaction.

"see, you were just rude and you shouldn't have been rude. let's go clowny. get up."

you move aside, leaning your arms on the back of the chair holding the clown's trash bag, but he doesn't move. "no, i'm not kidd--" santa trailed off as the clown turned his head, mischievous grin spread across his face, followed by a trickling sound that took a few moments to register as the clown pissing on santa's lap, his urine splashing into a puddle on the tile floor.

"oh shit."

"what the-- what the fuck are you doing!"

the santa pushes back the chair as he stands up, shoving the clown away from him.

"he peed on him!"

"fucking told you," eddie said, as he climbed up and over the bar.

the clown silently laughed and mocked him as the santa lunging at him. "are you fucking kidding me? i'm gonna kill you, you sick fuck!" he grabbed the clown, but eddie pulled him off before he could get a punch in. "i'll fucking kill him!"

the clown taunted him, squaring up and bouncing on his toes, all the while, that wide mocking grin plastered on his face, looking simultaneously funny and hot.

you hurried to stand between them, placing one hand on the santa's arm and the other on the clown's chest, in an attempt to defuse the situation. the clown likely wouldn't be able to fuck you if he was put in the hospital, though the idea of sneaking into his hospital room to ride him as he lie in bed, maybe having him wake to the warm tightness of your pussy wrapped around his cock was a hot and distracting one, your clit starting to throb at the thought.

"he's sorry. he doesn't do well around the holidays. the stress..." you noticed eddie standing behind the santa, watching you with his brows furrowed questioningly, perhaps the pieces finally coming together.

as rude and gross as the clown's actions were, you appreciated his irreverence, and found it strangely admirable. he just didn't give a fuck.

sometimes you'd wished you could give less of a fuck. you felt jaded and drained by the world. it seemed no matter how hard you tried to be kind and considerate, people always made it so damn difficult; they didn't realize or care about the pain they caused.

"you know this freak? you seem like a nice lady, you should keep better company," the santa quipped. the clown frowned, shaking his head and swatting his arm in dismissal.

"come on, you motherfucker," eddie said, stepping around you to grab the clown and shove him to stumble toward the bench at the other side of the bar. "smokey, get his bag!"

when he sat up, legs spread wide, you swear you could see a distinct bulge as if he'd gotten a semi at being roughed up a little, at the escalating conflict. he shook his head in defiance and fixed his little hat.

eddie had walked over to the other two struggling to pick up the clown's bag, "what the fuck is in this?"

the clown silently laughed and pointed before eddie threw it at him, the clown moving just in time not to get hit, gesturing another taunt.

"you motherfucker! i'll kill you. goddamn it!"

"want me to call the cops?"

"i don't want you to call the cops, i want you to call a fucking dry cleaner."

the clown gestured that santa smells. he sure was relentless at pushing buttons, knowing just how to get under people's skin.

"dry cleaner? smokey, get a fucking mop!"

"i told you, don't let him the fuck in here."

"you said he's fucking normal! sit down, sit down." santa turned and walked to the bar. "fuckin' you told me. have a fucking drink."

the clown quickly rifled through his bag as eddie turned, realizing the unwelcome customer hadn't left yet.

"can't take a fuckin' hint, can you?" eddie said as he approached him. "i'm not going to tell you again."

the clown stood up, quickly extending his arm and brandishing a gun, firing a shot that clips the side of eddie's neck, and he grabs the wound as he drops to the floor. you think it's a shame he never went down on you before dying. whenever you did make a suggestive comment to rile him up, he'd have a habit of staring at you and licking the corner of his mouth, making you imagine his tongue plunging into your pussy. you'd stare right back at him while bringing your beer bottle to your lips, no doubt making him imagine your mouth wrapped around his cock instead.

santa still standing at the bar, startles at the gunfire, sending shot glasses clinking and shattering on the floor. a stunned smokey watches his boss and friend lying on the floor, gargling and choking on his own blood.

the clown points the gun at santa before shifting his arm to fire at smokey next, a shot to the head sending a spray of blood hitting the sign hanging behind him.

all the while you'd watched the intense scowl on the clown's face, as hot as it was menacing, and it was driving you crazy.

"oh no, smokey!" the clown slowly approaches the santa, gun still raised. "oh no no no, please sir. let me apologize for whatever's happened here tonight." he grabs the santa hat, offering it to the clown. "here, take it, it's yours. you looked good in it."

the clown takes it with his free hand, and there's a sudden slow shift to his expression, a big grin spreading across his face, his eyes widening as his brows raised. the santa laughed nervously as the clown continued to stare at him, laughter becoming louder and more desperate, unease gripping him to the point of near delirium.

in that moment you felt sorry for him. he seemed like a nice guy, just as eddie and smokey were; decent, working class men that had the misfortune of crossing paths with this crazed, homicidal clown. in any other situation, at any other time, and with any other assailant, you would've been scared, you would've cared more about seeing three innocent people brutally gunned down, you would've hidden for cover and called 911 immediately.

you don't know what had possessed you not to do any of it. somehow you knew he wouldn't kill you.

the clown tapped the butt of the gun against the suit, signaling he take it off too. santa scrambled to remove the suit, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers. "there, now, could you let me leave? please. i won't tell any one about that happened. i swear," he stammered as he continued to plead for his life, struggling to come up with anything to elicit mercy. "i have a name, charles johnson. i have a name, and a wife and two kids and i..." charles trailed off, knowing it was hopeless. his gaze dropped and the clown shot him, he fell to the ground.

the clown looked down at him and shrugged, putting the gun on the bar. you walked to him.

"can i get you drink," you blink pointedly, "something other than a shot." he shakes his head, swatting his hand. "what's your name, really?"

he gathered blood pooling on the floor and smeared it to the bar top.

"art? well, art, I think you'd look really hot in the santa suit."

art raised his finger like he's been struck with an idea. he grabs the suit, putting it on over his clown costume, adding the santa hat and white wig to complete the look.

you notice the blood on the white trim of the coat, pointing it out. "i guess that means you're on santa's naughty list." art frowns, shaking his head. "i was right. you do look fucking hot."

he smirks, leaning down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you so he can lift you up and onto the bar. he tears at your jeans as he pulls them off, taking you by surprise, much stronger than he appears. you gasp, leaning back onto the bar. you like a man who doesn't waste time.

a shiver passes through you at the cold air hitting your bare pussy. art stares at it and licks his lips, his brows bouncing appraisingly as his fingers graze over your labia. before you can beg him, art leaned in, latching his mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking alternatively.

"oh fuck," you struggle to get out already, fingers raking through the white wig. art rotated his head, dragging his tongue all around your pussy, then dipping down to wetly plunge inside. your head rolled forward, face screwing up as you watched him, his gaze intense as he fucked you with his tongue. "oh, art." you shouted out roughly, rutting your hips to meet the thrusts of his tongue. "gonna make me come so hard on your handsome clown face."

art shifted and though you missed the feel of his tongue inside you, he made up for it by constantly flicking it over your labia and up to your clit, eliciting high pitched moans as your hand held his head tighter, head falling back to give a guttural moan when he sucked at your clit.

anyone could walk in or glimpse through the window you getting fucked while three dead bodies lie on the floor, but you couldn't care less. all thought about anyone or anything else but art escaped you, worries pushed aside as his tongue and lips and the glorious suction of his mouth sucking hard at your clit pushed you closer to the edge. you give a harsh gasp as you come, that familiar feeling of hot shimmering liquid gold pleasure coursing through you, but burning brighter and more intensely than ever before. your body heaves and thrashes uncontrollably, unable to bear the immense weight of pleasure. "oh my fuck--fucking, ahhh."

art hasn't relented, tongue determined to lick up every drop of your cum, almost to the point of overstimulation - a second orgasm quick to follow, but you let him, figuring it's a fair trade for him gifting you the best orgasm of your life.

🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

please like, reblog and/or comment, i'd really appreciate it. hope you enjoyed!

#art the clown #terrifier #terrifier 2 #terrifier 3 #art the clown x reader #art the clown x reader smut #art the clown x afab reader #art the clown x y/n #art the clown x you #art the clown fanfic #terrifier fanfic #art the clown smut #clown fucker #murder mention tw #cw blood mention #my fanfiction #mine

120 notes · View notes