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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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What Do You Have There?

A knife!

Danny plunked the butter knife in its pedestal of importance. The nice thing about having a billionaire vigilante for a... foster is the amount of money Danny was allowed to drop on his hobbies. For example, his extensive collection of souvenirs.

They're not just any old regular souvenirs. No, no, no. That would be so boring! No, these souvenirs, he obtained from the various muggings, knife fights, and various other situations he's been in ever since he was dropped ungraciously into Gotham.

The butter knife? Damian. Precocious, stabby Damian who he had startled into the stab instinct. A point of pride, really. Danny knew Damian was good at fighting! It was practically, in ghost terms, a super enthusiastic hello! Yes, the butter knife would be kept in the well lit part of the wall. Alfred had told him to stay home today to recuperate. He didn't need it, since the wound would heal in an hour or two, but he'd take staying at home any day.

A couple of hours later, well into the afternoon and right before what Danny knew to be their patrol hours, Danny had a visitor.

"Danny."

"Oh, hey, Damian! What's up?" Danny turned around to see Damian hovering awkwardly near the door.

"I am here to... check upon your wound. It is imperative that it gets proper treatment."

Ancients, Damian was exactly like those alley kids. He just ate a thesaurus instead of the drawling accent the alley kids picked up. Which meant Damian endeared himself to Danny pretty quickly. Like a little ghostling.

"Oh, I'm good. See? No blood is leaking out of the wound." Danny held up spotless bandages.

Danny watched Damian step into his haunt- his room- with a pleased hum. Damian inspected the bandages and stepped back with a sharp nod of approval. His eyes flicked to the wall that Danny was rearranging (again) and did a double take at the butter knife in the middle.

"Is that the butter knife I stabbed you with?"

"Why, yes, it is!" Danny beamed.

"Why on earth would you display that?"

"Because you stabbed me with it?"

"That makes absolutely no sense, you simpleton! When someone stabs you, stab them back!"

"That would be mean!"

Damian spluttered. Danny tugged the kid closer to the wall, cheering inwardly as Damian didn't shove him away. It might be because he was exaggeratedly wincing as he moved his "injured arm" but Danny has learned to take a win where he could find them, especially with ghosts. Not that Damian was a ghost, but he sure acted like one.

"Do you want to see my collection?"

"Your collection?"

"Yeah!" Without giving him time to answer, Danny barreled ahead. "So this is the knife you stabbed me with. Which, by the way, was an awesome show of strength and accuracy."

Damian grimaced. Danny continued blithely, secretly memorizing Damian's reactions to laugh at later.

"And this is the knife those guys stabbed me with that one time Cass found me. And this one is a bullet someone shot at me down by the docks. I think I interrupted some kind of meeting?"

Damian's jaw had a slight tick to it that would have been a baffled frown on anyone else.

"And when was this?"

"Oh, like a week ago."

"What? When did you go to the docks?!"

"At night. I couldn't sleep."

"And you went to the docks?! How did you even get there?!"

"Walked," Danny lied, like a lying liar. He floated, obviously, but none of them knew that. "Anyways, this is a law book! Someone threw it at my head!"

"Hey, guys! What're you doing?"

Danny and Damian turned around.

"Richard? Brown? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Bruce wanted me to come back for the weekend," Dick said. Danny knew it was code for "something's going down and we need back up." Man, he still couldn't believe they didn't know he knew they were crime fighting vigilantes.

"Same!" Stephanie said. Danny was glad to see that her wounds from "cartwheeling in the manor" were healed.

"I see. Danny was showing me his collection of... objects people have used as weapons against him."

"What?!"

"Yeah!" Danny beamed, completely innocent. "Come on! I'll show you!"

With that, Danny continued to ramble. He just knew that the way Dick's and Stephanie's smiles strained would give him a good laugh for weeks to come. "And this is the glass bottle a drunk tried to shank me with in Crime Alley, and this is a knife the Red Hood himself threw at me."

Dick interrupted, face stiff. "Hood threw a knife at you?!"

"Yeah, but that was because my kids broke into his safe house and I was trying to get them to stop looting the place. And he didn't know I was a kid too, so he aimed a gun at my head. He shot at me too, but I couldn't go back to get the bullet, or else it would have joined my collection." Danny grabbed a box and shook it, metal rattling inside.

Dick smiled sweetly, Stephanie and Damian inching away from it.

"Oh, wow, I see!"

----

In his apartment, Jason shuddered. He grabbed his guns.

"Something's wrong. I just know it," he muttered to himself.

----

Danny smiled innocently as he described the horrific, near death events he got his souvenirs from.

"This is my bullet box! Man, Gotham has a lot of gun fights. I got shot so many times!" Danny complained, shaking the box like a rattling toy.

"Did you know Danny snuck out to go to the bay?" Damian snitched immediately, like a snitch.

"The Bay?! Danny! You know that's where people dump bodies, right?!" Stephanie poked him in the arm.

"Yeah, but like... I wouldn't die. And besides! I missed my friends!"

"You mean the minions you made in Crime Alley?" Steph asked. Danny pouted, eyeing the way Dick's gaze roved over his souvenirs and paling the more he realized how often Danny "got hurt."

Damian bumped a shoulder against Dick's arm. Danny returned to the conversation.

"If anything, I'm their minion." He said, remembering the times the Alley kids sent him on food runs.

"Fear Danny, the overlord of street rats."

Danny snorted. And- "Oh! Yeah, there was like a weird owl looking guy? And then they stabbed me with a finger and I kept it because woah, cool talon looking thing, right? And then they threw a bunch of those tiny knives at me? And then they just kind of vanished? Gotham is so weird."

And now, with all of them pale and stressed out of their minds, Danny swung a devastating blow called guilt trip.

"And that's the batarangs!" Three heads swung over to the line of batarangs. "Those vigilantes kept throwing them at me! One of them even hit me in the arm. Those things are sharp, man."

"Uh. Which ones?" Stephanie asked.

"Hm?" Danny hummed obliviously.

"Do you know which vigilantes?"

"Oh, it was like... the purple one. And the sword one? And like the one with the yellow insignia in the middle. And... all of them, I think? Except for signal. That guy's cool."

Stephanie and Damian had matching veiled looks of guilt. Dick shot them a sharp look. Danny decided to deal the last bit of damage to Dick.

"I'm glad you guys are way less stabby than the general Gotham public though, butter knife incident aside. At least I don't have to worry about you guys getting into danger, right? If you guys got hurt like my family did... I don't know..."

Danny smiled-squinted at them, channeling Cujo at his cutest and saddest: when he doesn't get to eat off of Danny's plate. So, pretty sad and pathetic.

"Uh, yeah." Dick said, guilt splayed all over his face. "Alfred said dinner was almost ready."

"Yes," Damian cleared his throat, looking away. "We shall partake in Pennyworth's hard work."

"Ahaha!" Stephanie laughed, nervously. "Welp, let's go bother Tim!"

Falling into step behind them, Danny grinned.

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averageallogene · 9 months

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Lyney ♡⊹˚ His lucky charm [NSFW]

✧˖°. Summary: Before his most recent shows, Lyney seems to have some nervousness regarding his abilities as a magician. Thankfully, his lovely girlfriend is always there to ease his mind beforehand, providing him with the luck her magician boyfriend needs.

fem. reader (3rd person) ; this is basically smut with little more than an intro to it, so beware. Also SPOILERS for ACT I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest.

5k words.

notes. Hi yes hello I am back, I have played the two Archon Quests, and after working a little for my thesis I decided to write something by my own volition <3. I’m not sure if Lyney here might be portrayed accurately but nonetheless I really wanted to write a smaller piece for him before doing it for other characters! He’s adorable :( ♡ Enjoy ✧˖°

By clicking on the “expand”, you are hereby agreeing to view NSFW content. PLEASE if you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT.

PLEASE do not report, as this is my warning to those who do not wish to view NSFW. I, like most writers, work hard on each piece we choose to publish, and reporting it will decrease the number of readers it reaches... Thank you for understanding ✧˖°

Magicians have no need for something many folk cling onto - luck. After all, every trick they perform is something they study, polish, rearrange, rehearse. Everything is staged to the finest of details, leaving no room for unpredictable variables to enter the equation. Every performance is acted out accordingly, a mental checklist going on inside the performer's mind as each prop is placed and moved about, each line is repeated from the rehearsals, each movement in one’s body is carefully played out. Everything is a carefully crafted performance, and what need do they have for luck? None.

To Lyney, such is the truth. Well, at least this philosophy held itself rock solid, up until the incident that nearly landed him a guilty verdict. Despite his confidence in his abilities to wow the crowds, even before there would always be a small but ever present pitter patter to his heart, a quiet reminder of his own nervousness before the show would begin. He would usually handle himself most well, though through the eyes of those closest to them, the normal feeling of “performance jitters” wasn’t all that well hidden. Well, and if that were the case, more so after things went back to normal.

His breathing would be a little more unstable, his fingers would fidget with one of his cards as his eyes darted about his changing room. He would fiddle with his exquisite hat, rebraid his hair while trying to ease himself. Things had gone back to normal, their scheduled shows were once more popular and always fully booked. Yet still, there always was this sense of anxiety deep in his stomach, never truly going away as he quietly wondered if the show would go as planned.

Well, thankfully he had someone to help ease his mind each time. And as if right on que as he brooded over the upcoming performance, a knock to his dressing room was heard, the door opening to reveal the loveliest of sights. At the door stood [F/N], his lovely girlfriend who would always visit him before he went on stage.

“Hi Lyney! Hope I’m not intruding?” She asked sweetly, smiling his way which only helped to ease his worries.

“You never are, my love. Come in!” He breathes out, the eagerness to have her close not quite passing unnoticed to her. He extends his arms before fully taking her in his embrace, sighing deeply as he inhales the familiar perfume she would always wear. His favorite.

“How are you feeling?” [F/N]’s voice grows softer, her arms resting around his lower back as she smiles his way. The silence that follows is enough of an answer, her magician simply distracting himself with playing with the tips of her hair. “...Nervous?”

“...Hah, why it seems nothing really blinks past you. I may have taught you… Too well…” He jests, the smile on his face betraying him before it drops slightly. It reveals some of his vulnerability for her, his violet eyes locking with her own before he speaks up again. “I suppose it’s just some performance jitters again, nothing new...”

“It’s okay Lyney. You’ll do great, I know so.” Her smile shone brighter than the very sun, beaming with warmth that was only cast to him. It comforted his very being, filling his conflicted heart with sugary sweetness that only soothed him in a way no one else could. And if that wasn’t enough, the next few sentences were the ones that would always, always seal the deal for him. “Everything will go well, and everyone will be wowed by your hard work. I’m proud of you.”

It was as though his heart was struck, pierced with cupid’s arrow as he couldn’t keep up the calm and confident act. Lyney’s body visibly relaxed, a content snicker escaping his lips as his arms brought her closer. His lips were quicker than his words, filling her face with brief yet lovely kisses, watching with glee as she giggled as a response. Amidst each kiss he whispered words of gratitude for her support, his hands roaming throughout her lower back as he yearned to feel her closer and closer.

“Lyney… You didn’t even let me finish!” She laughed, her words being cut off with a deeper kiss as his lips found her own. She could feel his smile against her lips, the magician quite literally stealing her breath away before finally pulling away.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I just can’t contain myself, you’re just too adorable for me to!” He sighed, the flamboyant hum in which he spoke glittering the otherwise full truth she very well knew. “To think a professional magician would be wowed in such a way, you’ll be the death of me…”

“You almost make it sound like I’m such a bad thing.” [F/N] rolled her eyes playfully, her fingers carefully adjusting his hair before inspecting to see if his braid was well done.

It was in small moments like so that Lyney would cease to speak, allowing his beloved to do as she pleased. His eyes would focus solely on her, watching how her expression would shift, her eyes roaming about to ensure he looked his absolute best. He could feel his heart beating hard against his ribcage, no longer solely because of the nervousness he would feel before each one of his shows. The mere sight of his girlfriend was enough to blow away the growing blaze of anxiety, leaving it only in embers that with time would cease. Her mere care, her mere nature, her beauty inside out…

It was enough to leave Lyney riddled into little more than a lovesick puppy, the loopy smile upon his pretty face being reserved only for her.

“Lyney?” [F/N] called for him once more, watching as he finally seemed to come back to. His hands were roaming around her hips, carefully circling around her figure as he finally let out a soft hum for her to continue. “You’re a little too quiet… Everything okay?”

“I’m so lucky to have you, [F/N]...”

It was her turn to be left speechless, her face morphing to surprise as their gazes locked. He watched as the loveliest shade of red adorned her cheeks, the flusteredness he’d often cause on her never failing to amuse him. Still, despite so, he hoped she knew just how sincere he was with his words.

“Oh Archons… What’s gotten into you?” Her voice whined a little lower, her eyes turning away to avoid him for a mere instance in which her flusteredness was still far too raw. She could feel how his lips chased after her skin, peppering her with light and soft kisses by the corner of her mouth.

“Nothing.” He responded, his usual flair dropping to soft whispers as he carefully turned her around, helping her have a seat on his vanity. Between fleeting kisses, Lyney took the opportunity to bring himself between her legs, his hands never letting her stray far from himself. “I just wish to remind you more often, because it’s the truth.”

“Well I think it’s the other way around, you know… I’m the one that’s lucky here.” [F/N] smiled softly, her hands finding rest on his shoulders before gently massaging his tense muscles. Her boyfriend leaned back, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle that seemed familiar, one of challenge and mischievousness that would often leave her questioning before finally realizing what he’d plotted.

“My my, is that so?” He hummed, head tilting to the side while his grip on her tightened ever so slightly. “If that’s the case, how come each time you visit me beforehand, every show I perform runs far better than what I expect?”

“Oh, you’re really running with that?” She giggled, music to his ears. “Only because I kissed you that one time, telling you it would bring you good luck?”

“And did that show not go beyond amazing? In fact, I do believe that was the peak in my career thus far.” He reasoned with a nod to his head, kissing her deeply before resting his forehead against her own. “Therefore, I’m the lucky one here, and you my dear [F/N], are my lucky charm.”

“Oh Lyney…” She sighed softly, stroking her hand through his blond locks slowly. “I didn’t know that tonight my magician was planning to turn me into putty in his hands.”

It was his turn to laugh, quietly, yet full of warmth and endearment. “It’s what you get for stealing this magician’s heart long ago.”

“Ah! I’m gone. Goodbye Fontaine, I am melting from my boyfriend’s words!” [F/N] leaned back dramatically, Lyney catching her before she would fall too far and hit her head against the large mirror of his vanity. The pair laughed in unison, fingers interlacing as he brought her close to himself once more.

“You’ve definitely gotten that dramatic flair from me.” He pointed out, his free hand now resting firmly on her thigh. He watched with hearts in his eyes as she giggled at his comment, shrugging her shoulders before bringing him closer with her legs.

“I love you.” [F/N] whispered, leaning forward before it being her turn to steal a few kisses for herself.

It never stopped after that though, one going after the other, kisses lingering longer before them turning into a longer makeout session. The way her lips were always so soft, so warm, the faint taste of her favorite chapstick melting against his own, it never failed to leave Lyney yearning for more, his whole being focusing solely on his lover whilst everything else blurred around them. His tongue carefully peeked through his own lips before swiping across her own, the grin being felt against her mouth as he felt her jolt slightly from the antic. Giving him permission to continue, Lyney carefully led the dance, his tongue meeting her own as they both ignored the need of air, muffled breaths fanning one another as their hands held the other closer, tighter. Before he knew it he was leaning himself forward and her backwards, a little more, his body pressing against her own before they were practically bent with her head touching the mirror behind them. Her legs were pressed against his sides, never letting him stray too far, her hands stroking through his back and hair, sending shivers down his spine as sparks ignited deep within him.

“L…Lyn-ney…” She murmured between breaths, him finally tilting his head so the two of them could breathe. The way her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she breathed heavily seemed to only entice something further deep within him. “W…What about your show?”

“Worried about that?” He inquired, the clear endearment for her concern being evident in his tone of voice. He leaned closer, voice whispering as he slowly licked the strand of saliva that had dropped down her chin. “We still have time, if that’s what’s troubling you dear.”

“H-Hah…” The words seemed to get stuck on her throat as his hands maneuvered around her frame, carefully parting her legs a little more to give him better access. His fingers quickly grabbed a hold of the hem of her dress, lifting it up slightly before resting his palm on her warm thigh, his lips still remaining close to her own as his very being craved more of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” Lyney softly asked, leaning back as his own breath grew uneven. His face too displayed a lovely shade of pink, his lips redder after the relentless kisses she’d given him. His eyes were glittering with excitement, half-lidded with pure love as he waited for her response. His thumb was caressing her skin softly, the circular motion he did easing her more than arousing her as he searched for her honest answer.

It was embarrassing to admit, but [F/N] absolutely did not want to stop. Her body felt far too hot for her to go back on it now. “I… N-No.”

“Are you certain, dear?” He leaned closer, eyes squinting softly as his breath fanned her face. His hands slithered a little more upwards, giving her goosebumps as they traveled up to her hips. “I don’t want to put you in any situation that might be even a little uncomfortable… I will understand if this is-”

“N-No Lyney, I’m okay.” She nodded her head to reassure him, her hands gripping his clothing tighter as if not wanting him to move an inch away. “I admit, it’s… A bit nerve wracking, given the place but… I still don’t want you to stop.”

He bit his lip, smiling with both excitement and apology. “I’m sorry love, I always seem to get carried away when it’s about you.”

It definitely was the truth, especially given with the way his hands moved around her body. There was always a certain kind of care in each movement, his grip upon her skin tight and loving, as if reassuring himself she was there, with him. Lyney was both selfish and giving when it came to his beloved [F/N], always wanting more for himself, yet always wanting to reassure her she felt properly adored.

“We’ll have to be-” He kissed her again, followed by another, her lips trying to keep up with his own as he gave her fleeting kisses. “Very quiet- Okay?”

“M-Mhm.” She nodded her head, her face blushing a deeper shade of red as his fingers finally lifted her skirt up. Her own hands helped him hold it up for him, watching him as it finally dawned on her, his figure getting nice and cozy in between her legs before he kneeled down. “L-Lyney?”

The grin he gave her was enough to make her lower region throb.

“I’m craving a taste of you, baby. Could you please indulge me?” He whispered, his hands parting her legs before resting securely against them. His head turned to her left thigh, leaving a trail of small bites and kisses as he came closer, delighting himself in every reaction she offered him, every gasp and jump, every attempt at caging his head in between her legs.

“J-Just- Don’t tease me, please.” [F/N] outright pleaded, earning herself an honest nod of his head as his eyes sparkled in anticipation.

Carefully, her eyes jumped back at the closed door before going back to him, her breath trembling as she breathed out from her parted lips. Whilst one hand held her dress up, the other slowly lowered, helping him to remove the lacey underwear that hid his most wanted prize away. And with a lift of her hips, they were off easily, hanging by her ankle as Lyney’s gaze focused solely on the erotic view before him. His [F/N], holding her dress up for him, sat on his vanity as her chest rose and lowered irregularly, her pussy in full display for him alone. It was enough to get him aroused, the fabric of his own clothes becoming far too constricting as he felt his boner raging to be freed.

His experienced hands crept closer, thumbs slowly hovering her juicy lips before deliciously parting them. He could feel his mouth go dry in an instance, the view of her leaking pussy outright hypnotizing him as she let out a quiet moan. He couldn’t help himself but play around with her pussy lips a little, after all, how could he not? The way her pretty hole would throb in want, leaking out her nectar only for him, dripping down her skin and onto his table, the squelching sounds being nearly enough for him to lose all sense of control. He couldn’t help himself but stare, watch in lust before her soft moans and whines became a little too loud, all the while still arousing him even further.

“Lyney!” She pleaded in a whisper, the pout she offered him sending his heart racing.

“Yes, you’re right baby… I’m sorry.” He hummed, leaning forth before finally giving her heat a long, slow and deep lick. The vibrations from his hum resonated with her pussy, sending pleasant shockwaves throughout her body as she shut her lips right before moaning. “We’re gonna have to be quieter, love. Can you do that for me?”

It was difficult to hear him when he was practically squishing his face against her pussy, yet from the mere fact he’d stopped, [F/N] had been able to deduct what he wanted from her quickly enough. She nodded her head eagerly, blushing even deeper as she bit her lip.

“Mhm… ‘M sorry…”

It truly divided Lyney’s heart in two, for he absolutely adored hearing every sound [F/N] would bless him with. Her voice already was pure melody for his ears, all the more when she would be moaning due to his administrations. However, the pure excitement of their ordeal, having a chance of being caught, it was enough to keep him going, to entice him to lick more, to lap around her clit again, to suckle on it whilst plunging one of his fingers deep inside. The way his beloved would instead jolt more often, writhe above him, attempt to suffocate him as her legs tried to close around him, all to not be as vocal, it all had him entranced.

"You taste so good…" He groaned against her folds, his tongue practically spelling out his love for her as he ate her out with such passion. The groans and sighs that would escape him would only please her further, sending [F/N] closer and closer to her own release as she practically bit down her tongue to quiet out her own moans. Lyney simply couldn't have enough of her taste, lapping every last drop to his greedy tongue as he yearned for more, fingering and licking it out of her as he could feel her gummy walls throb against his fingers. "You're so wet, too… So dirty, my angel."

"L-Lyney…" She mumbled, her erotic whine finally pulling him out of his trance to look her way. By that point she'd already held her fingers around his hair, him not even noticing up until that very moment.

His light eyes glanced up, for a moment the magician forgetting how to even breathe. It felt as though the wind was knocked out of him, staring up to see his beloved gazing down at him with such a needy look. Her cheeks were flushed, the thin layer of sweat visible on her forehead as her grip on his hair tightened softly. Her teeth were by that point gritting tightly against the hem of her dress, it being her faint attempt at keeping her noises down to a minimum as he ate her out to his heart's content. The view was dirty, marvelous. The dress was lifted to such a way he could now see part of her tummy as well, her body lined with sweat as it reacted to every little touch he gave her.

It drove Lyney over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer. The breath finally left his mouth in a shaky notion, her thighs shaking like jello as it hit her bare pussy before he got up.

"Gods, you're so gorgeous [F/N]." He outright moaned, his fingers carefully taking the fabric out of her mouth. He watched how she heaved deeply, her lips tempting him to latch onto them. And who was he to refuse, but a poor magician whose heart had been stolen by the woman before him?

He leaned in quickly, capturing her lips against his own as they both moaned against one another. Their hands couldn't let go of the other, fiddling with their clothes as they attempted to find the best position to finally get what they both wanted. [F/N] leaned herself to the edge of the table, her legs still apart for him as her fingers now fiddled with his belt, unbuckling it before finally freeing him of his leather shorts. Lyney could feel his cock throbbing already, eager to finally plunge inside of her spongy walls and ease the yearning he so deeply felt. He groaned against her lips as she finally freed his hard length, pumping it for him slowly as it was now her turn to suck on his tongue with her own lips.

"I need you, Lyney…" [F/N] moaned, helping him to part her legs further as he kept his face closer to her own.

"I know, baby, I know. It's only fair I indulge you after you've treated me so well, right?" He hummed with a smile, all the while his face indicating just how excited he was.

He grunted quietly as he carefully rubbed his cock against her leaking folds, the two of them attempting to quiet their moans down to the best of their abilities. [F/N] could feel how the particularly protruding vein on the side of his cock rubbed against her pussy, sending tears to the corners of her eyes as she felt herself closer and closer to her release after being so well tended to by her lover. Lyney in turn kissed her tears away, his lips never leaving her face as he practically gulped down her moans to himself. After coating both her pussy with his pre and his cock with her bountiful juices he stopped, lining himself with her entrance before, with a glance shared, he carefully thrusted himself inside.

His hands gripped onto her knees, his lips shutting themselves tightly so as to not moan out as he often would. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to not voice much of the obvious pleasure he was feeling was a delightful view, [F/N]'s face blushing madly as she brought him closer. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she hid her face against his neck, her lips pressing against his skin as she quietly whimpered in pleasure.

"Ah, Lyney!" She moaned quietly, her nails digging into his shoulders as his own sighs of pleasure hit her ear.

"You're so tight, baby-" He in turn hissed gently, feeling how her spongy walls swallowed him whole as he finally bottomed out. His own hands were gripping harshly against her skin, the two of them sharing moans between one another even as his tip hit her deepest part. "Fuck, you're so wet. It feels so good."

"Please Lyney, give me more…" [F/N] pleaded to him, her eyes wide and glistening with pleasure as she leaned back for an instance. At that point she was once more leaning back against the rest of his vanity, granting him access to pound as deeply as his heart desired. The mere sight of her in such a way was enough for him to derail.

"Archons, anything for you [F/N]." The magician grunted, his hands leaving her knees as his lips latched onto her own.

By her own she was able to open her legs as widely as possible, the hem of her dress covering everything from the mid-thigh up as her hands were far too busy around his body. They wrapped around him tightly, effectively caging Lyney in between her much to his contentment. His own hands were busy holding her as close as possible, resting on her hips securely as to not knock her or anything else out, the items on his furniture tumbling slightly with every thrust he pounded into her needy core. With each time he bottomed out Lyney reached deeper, the tip of his cock effectively kissing her cervix as he molded her walls to his shape. He drank her every moan as if he worshiped all sounds she offered, his lips sucking on her tongue in such a lewd manner that he couldn't help but grin over how she squeezed him harder over it.

"Hyaahhhh, Hinhey…" [F/N] attempted to moan his name out, her puffy lips parted as his own toyed with her tongue to his pleasure.

He could feel the way she was milking him dry, her juices thoroughly coating his cock generously as her pussy practically praised and outright worshiped him. Her walls throbbed deliriously, sending him closer and closer to his edge as he fucked her through what he very well knew was her approaching orgasm.

"Is my baby- Close?" He leaned back to speak, humming quietly while licking his own lips eagerly. He watched as she nodded her head quickly, her fingers combing through his hair slowly, deeply. Just how he loved it. "Here, cum for me will you? You can take me like this as you do, right baby?"

[F/N] bit her lip, nodding her head again. She watched how one of his hands left her hips, holding it up for her to take it. His girlfriend took it without thinking twice, their fingers lacing together before Lyney held them against his mirror, his pace quickening up. Once more he glued his lips to hers, never quite truly satisfied with her kisses just as much as he never quite got enough of her pussy. Her breath against him grew ragged, her moans growing ever louder, all while trying to suppress them in what he could only find the cutest whines. He bent her more, held her tighter, he pounded deeper into her. He could feel her moans vibrate against his mouth before she finally gasped, a high pitched sob being all she could muster before her inner walls violently spasmed around him, creaming his cock bountifully as she rode her high. Even still, just as he'd asked her to, Lyney continued to thrust, still as deeply albeit slower, letting her savor her release just as he quickly followed with his closing one.

"Gyah, L-Lyney-!" [F/N] moaned against him, he in turn shushed her in understanding. "Mmm, t-to much!"

"I'm so close baby, so close…" He whispered, his thrusts a little less rhythmic as he tried to focus. His eyes opened to gaze deeply into hers, the sight of her red cheeks and unfocused eyes only edging him further deep into the abyss of pleasure. "Can you please take it just a little more? Just like this…”

“Mhm…” She eagerly nodded her head, the tears of overstimulation streaming down her face sending a long shiver down his spine. His free hand came to rest upon the side of her face, thumb clearing the tears away as his grip on her other hand tightened. “I-Inside, please.”

He bit his tongue gently as he smiled, nodding his head before pulling her head closer for a deep kiss. “Anything for my lovely lady.”

Against him she moaned, him in unison as he felt the knot deep inside himself finally snap. Lyney felt his eyes shut, a deep low grunt leaving his throat before he finally felt his release wash over him. He thrusted deeper still, his pace finally slowing down as thick ropes of seed flooded over [F/N]’s inner walls. Her womb was eager to receive the abundant load, being painted white from inside out as it overflowed whilst he still remained sheathed inside. Whilst their fingers were still locked she brought him closer, holding him tightly as her body shivered with the overstimulation. Lyney could feel his breath finally begin to slow down, a few final slow thrusts of his hips following as he moaned quietly, ensuring he was milked for all he was worth. He held his [F/N] close, as close as possible, their bodies finally relaxing as they rested atop his vanity, her body welcoming him closer as his seed leaked down and dropped onto the ground.

Even as she still regulated her breath, lips puffy and red and mascara slightly smudged from the sweat and tears, Lyney lunged forward, capturing her lips for the millionth time. Never satiated, like the greedy man he was at heart, he smiled against her as he enveloped her closer, relishing a moment longer. The silence that followed felt comforting, the two of them sighing in bliss as he felt her arms around his figure.

“Sorry… It must’ve been uncomfortable to sit like that, on such a surface.” He stated, eyebrows furrowing softly as his thumbs cleared her smudged makeup as much as he could. Lyney dared not move, still not even wanting to pull out. It wasn’t as though he could anyway, for the way [F/N]’s legs captured him definitely sent a message for him to stay a little longer.

“Mhm, it’s fine… I enjoyed it all the same.” She smiled sheepishly, relishing in his soft touches as she in turn rearranged his side swept bangs.

“I’m glad.” He sighed in relief, the pair too engrossed into one another to even notice how some bottles had tumbled over amidst their frolicking. “Still, next time I’ll be sure to make up for it, for all of it.”

“Lyney, truly it’s fine!” [F/N] laughed softly, finally opening her legs for him to move more freely. She watched in amusement how her boyfriend coughed softly upon noticing how heavy she leaked, rummaging through the room to find a towel he could dampen to help clean up. “Sorry… We might’ve taken too long, no?”

“Hey, if anything it’s my fault… It’s what I get for being so greedy.” He reassured her with a sincere smile, carefully helping her to clean up before dressing her back up. [F/N] watched as he fanned his face with his hand, the blush on his face still evident as she helped him dress up as well, a snicker escaping her pretty lips at the sight.

“Well… I still… Very much enjoyed it.” [F/N] reiterated, her voice low as she helped him button up his undershirt. His smile was difficult to ignore, especially so as she helped him retrace the tear he would always paint on his right cheek.

“...I did, too.” He pulled her closer by the waist, smiling in a devilish, albeit inoffensive manner. He pulled her closer, stealing a deeper kiss as he relished on the taste of her lips, hoping to steal some of her chapstick for himself so he could taste it all throughout his performance. As he pulled away, he whispered quietly to her, fingers playing with the end of her hair. “...Maybe next time we do this, I can have you turned to my mirror. The faces you make are simply delicious, my dear.”

The way [F/N]’s face turned to utter surprise was enough of a reaction, the magician following with a sneaky laugh as he pinched her behind as the cherry on top. In turn, his girlfriend gently slapped his arm, huffing as her cheeks turned bright red, his laughter becoming louder as a result.

“Lyney!” She groaned, nearly turning around from him in embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry baby! Mostly.” He chuckled, embracing her before kissing her cheek with the usual level of endearment that was solely reserved for her.

“Hmph…” She pouted, though both knew it wasn’t something to last long. “...Good luck on your show, honey.”

“After this? It’ll be the best show yet…” He in turn whispered, his forehead resting against her head as they quieted down. “I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll be waiting here.” [F/N] smiled softly, them embracing one another before finally deciding to part.

Well, Lyney had always been energetic in his performances, yet there seemed to be an improvement on that particular one. True to his word, that performance definitely did do amazingly well, becoming the talk of the following weeks.

All thanks to his lucky charm.

#genshin lyney x reader #genshin impact lyney x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #yoko drabbles

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daycourtofficial · 7 months

Text

Training Day

Summary: you ask Azriel to help you demonstrate some moves for training and it very quickly changes things

Author’s note: yeah this one just took on a life of it’s own I guess? Anyway, it’s lots of fun

“Can I use you tomorrow during the demonstration?”

Azriel looks up from his paperwork. The two of you were working in the library, a place you find yourselves most nights. You both enjoy working simultaneously - whether you both have paperwork, research, or personal reading. Most nights were spent on a secluded floor of the library. You two are down here so frequently, Clotho has stopped asking you to return the furniture the way it was, just allowing you two to use this space as your own sanctuary.

“I need a body to use when I’m showing the girls how to defend against an opponent,” you elaborate, and Azriel can’t help but notice a faint blush across your cheeks.

Azriel chuckles, but nods. He can’t say no to helping the priestesses, and he certainly can’t say no to you.

You two return to your previous attentions - you to your book, and him to his paperwork, which he finds much less interesting than you.

It started by the two of you using a table and chairs to work, but you had complained about reading for so long in the chair, that you rearranged the furniture so a table was pulled up to the couch you two are sitting on.

These nights started with you two across the table from each other, and tonight Azriel feels your toes pressing against his thigh, trying to form an entrance underneath his leg. You two now sit on the same couch, more often than not touching in some small capacity. The most recent nights start with you toeing your feet against his thigh, until he eventually grabs legs, sliding you down the couch, and placing your legs across his lap, draping his arms over them. When he’s feeling extra bold, or extra sleepy, he finds himself drawing patterns on your calves with his hands.

“Goooood morning!” You chirp to the priestesses, Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel. Azriel left the morning part of training early to bring you up for your demonstration and to talk to the preistesses and Nesta.

They all looked tired and out of breath, no doubt due to Cassian’s training.

“You can all sit for my demonstration. That way I become your favorite teacher.” You smile, eliciting a huff from Cassian.

“First, I want to say that while Cassian and Azriel are great teachers, there is one aspect to training that they cannot grasp. They do not understand what it’s like to be smaller than most of your enemies, to be at least 50 pounds lighter than most of your opponents.” You glance around, and the priestesses seem to be receptive, so you continue.

“Which is why I’m here. Cassian can spend 100 years teaching you proper balance, proper techniques, proper stances. But those things mean nothing if you cannot contextualize what you need to take down an opponent.”

“So today, we’ll be doing a little walkthrough of a fight. My opponent will be Azriel. The goal for today is for us to walk through, step by step, of a fight, and win. So, let’s start by thinking: what are some things that I need to think about when I’m facing Azriel. We don’t know anything about him, we don’t know who he is. We know what we can see, sans shadows. Most opponents won’t have control over shadows, so I’m sorry, but you’ll have to sit the demonstration out.”

With that, his shadows retreat, looking as if they too were looking to sit and watch the demonstration. Azriel doesn’t think about the fact that he didn’t tell them to leave, that they listened to you, not even seeking his approval for the command.

“So, what do I notice about my opponent?”

Gwyn speaks up, “he’s much taller than you.”

Another priestess speaks up, “he’s unarmed.”

“He has wings.” “He’s wearing protective leathers.”

You interrupt them. “All good observations. He’s bigger than I am, unarmed, but protected. These are all important notes when facing an opponent. So, what should I do first?”

Someone immediately yells, “kick him!” You’re pretty sure it was Cassian, but you let it slide. “Where am I aiming my kick?” You ask to the crowd. “His head!” You hear Nesta call back.

“Do we think that is the best course of action?” They all nod, you’re unsure if it’s just because they want to watch you kick their teacher, but you swing your leg out, aiming for his head, holding it right next to him when you ask, “why would this not be the best tactic for me?”

There’s a pause, then Emerie speaks up, “your foot won’t make contact with his head.”

While still holding your leg in the air, mere centimeters from his face, you pull a small chocolate from your pocket and throw it to Emerie. “Correct! I can’t make perfect contact, is there any other problem?”

Gwyn yells out, “you’re vulnerable to be pushed!” You throw another chocolate. “Excellent! Yes, since all my weight is on one leg, he could easily” you prompt, alerting Azriel to his next move. He simply pushes you a little, making you lose balance, “make me lose my footing.”

You stand back up and brush the dirt off.

“If I’m going to execute a move that leaves me vulnerable, I need to be very sure that I can execute it. My legs are not long enough to do so. And our opponents will not stoop down so I can attack them.”

Azriel crouches just a smidge, where if your leg were still in the air you’d be able to connect it to his face.

“When the odds are against you in a fight, you need to even the playing field. Do anything you can to subdue your enemy. A tactic I use frequently is messing with their senses. May I?” You ask Azriel. He nods, curious where this is going.

“My height might be considered a disadvantage, but it allows me to move faster and with more ease than larger opponents like Cassian.”

He rolls his eyes, ready to retort back, but you’ve started talking again. “Showing this in slow mo won’t give you a great idea, and it’s a bit more difficult to do, but here’s what I do. I use my opponents height to their disadvantage.

You plant your right foot on his left thigh. “What do small creatures do? They climb. So I plant one foot on a thigh, and use momentum to swing my other leg onto their shoulder.” As you say this, you swing your left leg over his right shoulder, him holding your right leg planted on his leg so you can move.

“from here, I have one leg secured to a shoulder, so I use that planting to bring up my other leg,” doing as you say, bringing your right leg onto his other shoulder, your legs holding onto his shoulders.

Azriel can’t breathe with you so close to him like this. Do you have any idea the effect this is having on him? How close you are to his face, to his mouth? He’s dreamed of having you like this, pressing you into a wall while he devours you like it’s his last meal.

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, reminding him of where he is. “From here, I bring both of my fists out wide, gaining as much speed as I can before coming down on my opponent’s ears. This impact will leave their ears ringing, and could disrupt their balance if done hard enough.” You mime the motion, but only lightly hit his ears.

“Then I grab their face,” you say, holding the right side of his jaw, “and I smash my palm as hard as I can into their nose.”

Azriel knew you weren’t going to, but he could think of no better way to go than at your hands while your legs are wrapped around his neck.

You start to uncoil yourself from him, and it takes all of his self control to help you get your feet back on the ground. You start explaining why jabbing a palm through a nose is a good idea. The priestesses didn’t seem to think anything of you being on top of him like that, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cassian’s shit eating grin. He glances in his brother’s direction, wanting him to knock it off before he scares off their trainees, but Cassian mouths the words “loverboy” to him, while kissing the air, before pretending he was paying attention to you the whole time.

Your demonstration goes on for a bit longer, you and Azriel having a pseudofight that the priestesses eventually walk you through how to win. You have him pinned to the ground, and their cheers are so loud you’d think you had slain a dragon instead of taking him down.

You’re positively glowing at their praise, and the fact that this method of teaching actually worked. Before he could grow too accustomed to your weight on his chest, you get off of him, offering a hand to help him up, which he gladly accepts.

“Thank you for letting me beat you up today,” you giggle, as the priestesses start heading back toward the library, leaving you and Azriel behind.

He laughs, thinking about his next words, “how could anyone say no to letting you straddle their face and pinning them down?”

Your cheeks are on fire. The two of you were something, you just didn’t know what. On top of spending most days together, you two flirted constantly, once prompting Feyre to throw you in a cold fountain to cool you off.

But flirting was words, and these words were based in real actions you took. Sure it was to show the priestesses some defense moves, and maybe you had some ulterior motives, but you can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy seeing his face between your legs, even if you two were fully clothed in a self-defense seminar.

You were done with flirting that led nowhere, and before you can think about them the words are out of your mouth, “so if I asked you to do it again, with less witnesses and less clothing?”

You physically watch him shudder, at first you’re afraid you went too far, but then he leans down into your ear and whispers, “don’t make offers if you don’t want to follow through.”

You two have been dancing around whatever is between you two for too long, you think. The gentle nights spent in the library, the constant flirting. You spend more time with him than anyone. You’re terrified to move forward, but then you meet his eyes.

They’re full of lust, yes, but there’s an incredible warmth there. A softness, reserved just for you. He always looks at you with delicacy, as if you held his world and too harsh of a stare would break you.

You grab his neck, pulling him down to you as you kiss him. The first thing you feel is his wings wrapping around you, providing you privacy from the world, even though you’re alone in the training area.

Your hands clutch at his face, and your lips cover his, moving in tandem, as if your lips have found the place they belong.

His hands grab your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You’re so caught up in the kiss and the heat of it that you don’t even realize he winnowed you two into his room.

You hardly take note of the room, just taking in his smell, his taste, his warmth. You’re not sure how long you guys are kissing, thinking of nothing but the way his hands feel holding you, amazed you two are still wearing any clothes, let alone being fully dressed, when you hear a cough.

You two break away very reluctantly, to see a very smug Cassian standing ten feet away.

“You,” he points directly to you, “owe me $50. Pay up.”

“Now?” You ask incredulously, your hair moving as you whip your head to glare at the intruder.

“Yes, now. It’s my money, and I earned it fair and square.”

Azriel’s confusion shown all over his face, you covered your face in your hands while Cassian says, “I bet her $50 that if she had you help with her demonstration and got on your shoulders like that, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself.”

“I- um - I didn’t know how to make the first move,” you say meekly, “and he seemed so sure of this working.”

You were so concerned he’d be mad that you manipulated this situation, but Azriel, while still holding you, tells Cassian, “I’ll give you $100 if you leave and don’t let anyone disturb us for a week.”

Cassian, always ready to make a quick buck, quickly agrees and scuttles out of the room, closing the door on his way.

“How do you go from not knowing how to make the first move to doing that?” Azriel asks, amusement shining on his face.

“Well, I thought my shameless flirting wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I had to take more drastic measures.”

He roars in laughter, and you can feel the vibrations through his chest. “You’ve always had my attention,” he says, looking at you the way a predator would, “but now you have my undivided attention. And I just paid a hefty fee to get us some time away from everyone.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you as you giggle, holding onto him tighter, “oh no, a whole week with no distractions, whatever shall we do?” You ask, trying to sound distressed, but your giggles give you away.

“I think I stopped paying attention during your presentation, do you want to remind me again about depriving your opponent of their senses with your legs?”

You throw your head back in laughter, and he tilts your head down to capture your laugh in his kiss.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #honestly I thought this was just precious

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predestinatos · 5 months

Text

'tis the season, i guess — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: cold winter days bring unexpected company to your bookshop. or in which your ex needs help choosing a book for his girlfriend.

words: 3.5k

tags: angst, SO much angst, dark academia vibes for some reason?, genuinely heartbreaking. some fluff but not much!

note: this was based off of this request but i got a bit carried away and wrote a whole thing! also am now obsessed with listening to sabrina carpenter... i hope everyone likes this even though it is very painful, but lmk your thoughts pls!!

The bookshop was basically empty, all the noise you could hear being yourself trying to rearrange the books in alphabetical order, and soft music playing in the background.

you stood on your tiptoes in order to reach a book at the top of the shelf, knowing a bench was available but being too lazy to go get it. Wuthering Heights refused to reach your fingertips despite your efforts and soft curses to yourself a bit louder than usual due to the emptiness of the shop.

"Need help?" a male voice called from behind, causing you to roll your eyes. Here we go, you thought to yourself, another man who catches you alone in the shop and tried to hit on you, and you'll have to find him funny and play delighted to be in his presence despite how bothersome he is, despite the ring on his finger.

"No, I'm okay, really-" you started replying, putting on your best customer service smile, fixing your hair as you turned around to face the stranger. but the person who you faced wasn't a stranger in the slightest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said as he reached behind you for Wuthering Heights, taking him zero effort to do so, increasing your frustration and disbelief.

those brief moments of closeness brought to you a thousand heart clenching memories, time standing still as his scent hit you softly.

"Try this one" you tried to stop giggling as you held the dark brown bottle in your hands and asked for his wrist.

"Tobacco Vanille? I don't want to smell like cigarettes!!" he joked, although he let you spray his wrist gently, so happy just for the sole fact that you were happy.

Your smiles reached your eyes as they met for brief seconds, waiting for the smell to hit his skin. Reactions weren't needed as your expressions turned from smiling to shocked, mouths widening at the scent that seemed to fill you both.

"It's AMAZING!" you half screamed excitedly as he smelled his wrist in confirmation. "Charlie, it smells so good I could eat you right now!"

He laughed at the nickname, at how pretty you looked, at how simple it all was. He kept laughing with the perfume in a perfectly wrapped package in his hand, the other holding yours.

"Uhm, hi" you said, as his big familiar hands stretched out to hand you the book, which you hugged tightly to your chest in an attempt to hide or disappear in it, you weren't sure "Thanks."

"No problem" he replied politely, almost annoyingly so, the tiptoeing already starting before more than a few words could be uttered, his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere but you.

It was uncomfortable - the silence, the stillness, how both of you stood there like ghosts, waiting for some direction, something to do, something to happen. "So uhm... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm a wedding crasher" the stranger next to you replied, black tuxedo slightly touching your arm, a drink in his hand and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Really?" your eyebrows raised as you took in what he said and his appearance – the nose, especially the nose.

He laughed slightly, taking a sip of his drink and looking back at you "no, I'm friends with the bride," his finger pointed in the direction of the beautiful woman dressed in white, but all you could see was how big his hands were, adorned with rings. "And you?"

"I am an actual wedding crasher" you replied, cheeky smile adorning your lips despite the shyness you felt as your eyes locked with his. It was his time to raise his eyebrows and your turn to take a sip of beer as he repeated what you had asked seconds before. "Really?"

"No, I'm friends with the groom" you replied winking, enjoying the stranger's company and humor, his smile causing small dimples to appear in his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

"You got me," his hand suddenly stretched towards you, palm open and inviting, "I'm Charles."

He kept shrugging and avoiding your eyes, despite the fact that he had willingly chosen to go to the place where you worked. It was making you impatient and angry, those emotions replacing the initial shock and sadness.

"I need your help choosing a book," his voice sounded weak and embarassed, shame coming through every vowel. You stood still, waiting for him to continue, wishing he'd speak faster, explain himself already or just leave and forget he even came. "For my girlfriend"

Those words twisted inside you like a sharpened knife that knew the cut would merely hurt, not kill. Despite that, you knew better, you refused to let him notice any sort of hint of how that information affected you. "Oh wow," was all you could say at first, turning around to keep placing books in shelves, distracting at least your body since your mind was restless "birthday?"

"Uh? Oh no, 6-month anniversary" he muttered, almost inaudibly. You were too aware suddenly of how your clothes felt on you, how ironic red was in the necklace you were wearing as you placed Anne Boleyn's biography in its correct place, tight between the other books. You refused to look to him now, nodding intensively so he would understand that you had heard what he said, your skin prickling as you struggled to move. Calculations ran through your mind, trying to place those 6 months in the timeline of both of your lives as he moved awkwardly behind you.

"It's funny actually, she really loves reading, I guess I do have a typ-" he began, trying to lighten the mood, but each word he said felt like another grain of salt being thrown at the open wound that was your heart.

“What does she like to read?” you interrupted him, purposefully so, knowing how clear your intention to move from the subject was.

“I read a bit of everything, but I love the classics,” you said as the cappuccinos arrived and sat prettily in the café’s table. You stared at Charles as he stared at you; his entire expression seemed to give you undivided attention, registering every word and movement of yours. He smiled at all the correct times, nodded at your statements and frowned at certain parts of your narrative almost as if he had been custom made for you.

“What’s your favorite book?” he continued, sipping his drink, some foam remaining on his top lip, a feature you smiled softly at, bravely leaning over with a napkin and cleaning it. “Thank you” he said as he noticed your blushing expression, his way of both reassuring you and brushing it off as something mundane, and you bit your lip, holding back a bigger smile than necessary.

“This is such a cliché,” you started, rolling your eyes at your answer, trying your best not to say it. “Go on” his hand suddenly stretched towards yours, resting on top of it gently, like a sheet perfectly fitted for a bed. Your body burned with the touch, what is symbolized, what it promised silently in that small café.

“It’s Catcher in the Rye,” you both burst out laughing.

“She loves Fitzgerald,” his hands touched random books, looking for something to do, fixing them, opening some of them and putting them back in place, reading the backs of them as if he was paying attention to anything they said.

“Good taste,” you tried the compliment route. You didn’t want to sound bitter, and you weren’t bitter. It was just a lot to take in so fast, his presence as painful as his words, the way both made you feel so small for such a big place, so big for such a tight room.

“That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,” you quoted the author as you contemplated the choices available for a lover of Fitzgerald. Work could fill your mind. Pretending it was just one more client made it easier. “Any other author or book? Help me out, Charli- Charles” you cut yourself off before the nickname could come out, hoping he wouldn’t notice, knowing that he did. You felt his entire body tense behind you as yours did, making it seem like a picture frozen in time in place, The Star-Crossed Lovers.

Charles seemed so silent that you unconsciously felt yourself turning back to check if he was still there, if he hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination after all. He stood in place, for a moment his eyes looked at you as if they hadn’t seen you in his entire life, examined you as if you were as unknown as letters in a freshly printed page. That soon faded as he snapped back to reality, registering the question with incredible delay. “Faulkner. She also likes Faulkner.”

“Aaaand Faulkner is done” you brushed some of the dust off of your hands as you stood up, looking at the now organized Classics section. “At least for the next week! Thank you for staying with me, by the way,” you said to the phone, as its screen indicated that you had been on a call for 2:45:17 hours.

“No problem,” Charles smiled. You knew he did although you didn’t see him, and that sheer though made you smile as well. “Can you do me a favour though?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement, a puppy-like tone that you cherished “open the door, I’m freezing.”

At first you were confused at his request, and you were close to questioning it until it hit you. You didn’t believe it. There could be no way he was- you rushed to the bookshop’s door, opening it while still holding your phone. Heart racing, you opened the door and saw Charles’ frame standing there, the lights illuminating his red cheeks and nose from the cold, one hand awkwardly holding the cellphone, the other trying to balance two warm drinks. He was wearing a beanie that made him look younger, softer, a puffer jacket that seemed to hug him perfectly- “Is there a code or something?” he jokingly asked, his breath visible due to the cold air outside, and you realized you had been staring for too long. You stood aside, turning the phone off as he placed the cups on the counter and removed his extra clothes.

“You didn’t have to,” you started. “I wanted to.” “You’re so sweet I could kiss you right now.” “Do it, then.”

You started browsing through the spines of the books in the shelves in front of you, looking for answers to more than one question, relying on pulling you sleeves down to your hands to mask your nervousness.

“How have you been, though?” his voice made you jump a bit, pulling you back to reality as you pulled 2 books and held them against your chest with one hand, trying to keep them from falling by lifting a leg – an awkward stance, you were sure. “Great, actually” you replied, unconvincingly so.

Things were hard after what happened with Charles, and you had taken many different routes to get over it all at first – waking up hungover in strangers’ beds, not leaving the house, breaking hearts for fun, letting people use you for fun, meaningless moment after meaningless moment, where the highlight would be hearing a voice that sounded even slightly similar to his. They got slightly better, of course, a year had passed, you could function, yet it hadn’t scarred yet – it wasn’t even close. The wound was open and bleeding and hideous and his presence, his voice, his smell, his request, it all just made the blood spill harder.

“Really?” “Hmhm,” a nod. A cough from behind you, making you turn around. His face was stern, serious. Charles was considering if coming was a good idea, what even drove him to do it in the first place. There were so many bookshops, so many other gifts he could give, yet he felt like showing up, like seeing you, at least once. Now he was there and he felt peculiar. Something close to guilt crawled on his chest, but he wasn’t sure what he was feeling guilty of, which in turn intensified his guilt.

You reached for a third book, and as you did so, the ones you were holding fell once again on the old wooden floorboards. “Shit” you muttered, crouching to grab them as Charles did the same, you two being so familiarly close, the irony of the cliché overwhelming the both of you. Getting up, Charles felt the need to offer his hand for you to hold, a support you refused to take and acknowledge, pretending you didn’t see it when it reality it seemed to be screaming at you loudly and intensely.

“So here are my recommendations, I guess” you sighed, letting him assume it was due to tiredness, knowing that he wouldn’t. Placing the 3 books on the nearest table, they faced the both of you as you stood next to each other, his arm brushing against yours, eyebrows furrowed as he examined their covers and details carefully.

Mrs. Dalloway, Age of Innocence, and One Hundred Years of Solitude sat perfectly, yet stared at the both of you defiantly, knowing their words could cut through both of your souls if they pleased.

“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love” Charles read aloud, laying in your bed next to you, your head resting gently on his chest as you felt him laugh softly, lying naked in . “You’re right, I think I like this author.”

You laughed alongside him, both unaware of the fact that you were laughing for different reasons.

Charles’ eyes glanced quickly towards you, the same memory haunting your minds as if you were locked in a cinema of nostalgia. Shyly, his hand reached towards the hardback edition of Age of Innocence, its soft colors drawing him attention when the other options were either too painful to grab or not as tempting for his eyes.

You leaned against the polished table, looking at the way he touched the pages tenderly, fingers brushing them with a softness that reminded you of times that had gone by yet seemed to close and so recent.

His features seemed so focused, eyes moving slowly across each sentence, eyelashes prettily adorning them, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed dryly. He almost seemed unreal, a mirage of a stranger who was once so familiar to you, breaking the spell when he chuckled softly. “What?” you asked, whispering, too afraid that a sudden movement might make him disappear entirely. The normalcy of the moment was as terrifying as it was comforting, a moment in which it seemed like you two were the same again. “Nothing it’s just, one of the sentences I stumbled upon…”

“Which one?” you rested your chin in your hand while looking up at him, forgetting the previous moments, the previous year, every previous instance in its entirety as he looked back down at you and bit his lip nervously.

“I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” the room went cold and silent as the night.

“I can’t give you a relationship” he stood in his own kitchen like a foreigner, a man you almost did not recognize. “Why not?” “Because I don’t do relationships and I don’t like labels and I don’t want to hurt you by convincing you that I can.”

Your ears rung as you fought back tears. You wouldn’t cry. You were too proud for that, to show him this mattered way more to you than to him. “If you don’t want to hurt me then try, Charles.”

He shrugged, arms opened in defeat and eyes looking at the window, the snow falling down outside, locking you both in this confrontation. “I can’t.” Frustration invaded your bones and skin as you asked why once again, though your voice was tired and broken.

“It’s not because of you, I just- Can’t I just love you?” “That’s what I’m asking you to do by staying,” you reply cut like ice, and as he moved closer to you and held your face in his hands, you knew you had lost. “I can’t. Because I can’t do relationships.”

“But you will” you pushed him away as you left, knowing you were leaving your toothbrush, spare underwear, and heart there.

He interrupted the stillness before you did, clearing his throat and his mind, failing to relieve you of the pain of the past. “I’ll take this one” he said, now too polite, too frigid to go back.

You held the book and moved towards the counter, aware of his footsteps behind you, following you. You knew he was doing it because he had to pay, because he was a customer, because that’s what you’re supposed to do – yet part of you wanted it to be for a different reason, wanted his hand to suddenly reach for your wrist and tell you it was all a lie, a big prank, he was sorry and he took it all back.

You wanted him to say something daring enough for you to explode at him, to scream everything you’ve been holding inside for a year, to go back to that kitchen and its dimmed lights. To dare yourself to ask how dare he come into your workplace and throw everything at you, all politeness and fragrance and small talk, like it was nothing when you felt everything.

Instead, you wrapped the present nicely, placing a bright ribbon at the top while he fidgeted with his wallet from the other side of the counter. It was almost done, this exchange, and you didn’t know how to feel anymore. You were tired. So tired.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, facing him fully, staring at his green eyes that tried their best to hold your gaze. “Seriously, Charles, why did you come here?”

At first, he stayed silent. You refused to break the silence this time, even if he left without an answer you knew you had asked it, you did not save it for late nights lying awake. “I know you think I didn’t love you, but I do” he said.

It didn’t seem like a reply to your question, it seemed like a statement he was waiting to get out since the moment he walked in, the phrasing odd with its verbs being intentionally used in different tenses that didn’t seem to matter, at least not anymore. All you could do was laugh in disbelief, anger, or hurt, or a mix of both spreading throughout your body.

“You were- are- very important to me. You helped me realize a lot of things and if I could, I would go back in time in a heartbeat. But I can’t” he grabbed the present, hinting at the fact that he was going to leave, yet it didn’t seem fair to you. This wasn’t an apology, and was nowhere close to it, your hands trembling were a proof of such.

“You never can” you raised your chin, pride fighting against hurt as tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, jaw tense and firm, “not when it comes to me.” And there it was. What you both knew was true, said aloud like a forbidden fruit that was now bit into.

“It’s more complicated than that. And it’s alright for you to hate me, but I genuinely do love you. I care about you and think about you more than I should-“

“Do you love her?” it was a stupid question, and you knew that. You knew whatever answer he gave you would be a slap in the face, unsatisfying and painful either way. You hated yourself for the slight jealousy you felt towards a woman you barely knew, who wasn’t at fault at all, whose only problem was being too lovable.

“I do. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for you” “Oh wow. Thanks for that one” you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself smaller, trying to hide while looking at the clock – 15 minutes left until the shop closes. 15 minutes left of the last time you’ll ever see him.

“Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?” he wanted to reach for you and hold you, a moment of involuntary movement almost drove him to do something he couldn’t possibly do, not anymore, at least. You looked at his sudden jerk of movement, how he stopped as if his muscles burned and prevented him from acting upon his instincts. It was the best answer he could’ve given you.

“I’m selfish. I want to look at a bookshelf and know a piece of you is there. I know I’ll never fucking see you again, and I’ll leave you alone, but God I need something to remind myself that you’re real” he said, eyes closing in shame or frustration, you couldn’t say.

“You took a part of me with you that night. And I’ll never get it back. And you walked in today and took a bit more. More than that book. And every time I think of you, you take another piece. So when you look at that book, think of your girlfriend. I am real. But what we had wasn’t. Not anymore.”

You started closing the register, ignoring his presence, hoping he’d go away. The only reason you noticed him leaving was the small bell that rang as he opened and closed the door, and you finally succumbed and let the tears run free.

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bakanokiwami · 1 year

Video

TOP 10 CARTOONS ON FANFICTION.NET BASED ON NUMBER OF FANFICTION (1999-2022)

To make this bar chart race, all series titles in the Cartoons Section on November 29 (or the closest date to it) of every year were copy-pasted from Wayback Machine to Google Sheets, rearranged according to number of fanworks, and then inputted to Flourish to turn into a bar chart race.

In 2000-2006, FFN used Miscellaneous Cartoons as a catch-all tag for all cartoons that didn’t have their own category yet. It was then renamed to Misc. Cartoons in 2007 before it was moved to the Misc. section in 2008.

Code Lyoko and Avatar: The Last Airbender were actually miscategorized at first and were found in the Anime section from 2004-2007 (2005-2007 for ATLA). I used their data from that section for those years.

In 1999, fanfiction weren’t divided into sections like Anime/Manga, TV, Books, etc. yet. It was just a small list of mixed fandoms.

Originally, the fanfiction list was sorted alphabetically too, but was changed to number of fics at around early 2013.

By November 2013, FFN started abbreviating numbers above 1,000 to K, so exact numbers aren't available for series with more than 1,000 fanfiction.

This bar chart was made with the assumption that the numbers listed in the Cartoons section are correct. I can't seem to get the same numbers for some of these categories when I go to the specific categories' page and toggle ratings, other filters, and language to All though... I'm not sure where the discrepancy is coming from. (And it’s not the crossover fic numbers that need to be added to serie’s total fics from what I’ve observed.)

Please refer to this post for more bar chart races.

Thanks for understanding and hopefully I didn’t mess up anywhere! 🙏

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belphies-cowgirl · 9 months

Text

little things they do for you

word count: 900+

content warning: mentions of body image (if I am missing anything please let me know and I will add it!)

Lucifer

invites you into his study whenever he gets a new record. he prefers listening to it with you in his arms. also, he'll play the piano for you if you ask him.

will praise you for minor or major accomplishments. even if you don't think something deserves praise he gives it to you anyways. he's so proud of his human.

wakes you up gently by rubbing your back or your shoulder. sometimes if you've stayed up late studying or working he peppers your face with gentle kisses (he will drag you out of bed lovingly if he needs to)

Mammon

will hype you up and be your partner in crime. will indulge in creating chaos or doing something stupid with you. you have his full support and he'd do anything for you, even if it results in him getting strung up by Lucifer. he'll happily take the blame and punishments for you.

will let you have control over the radio and heat/ac settings in his car. will let you put your feet up on the dashboard too. he bought a car charger for you in case you forget to bring yours and he'll order for you in the drive-thru (has what you want memorized, but still asks if you want something else)

helps you with chores. does laundry with you and carries your laundry basket (cleans out the lint trap for you too) does the dishes with you, he washes while you dry or vice versa. moves furniture for you while you vacuum (let him woo you by showing off his strength) want to rearrange your room at 3 am? he'll help you.

Levi

if you're into cosplay he'll make outfits for you. he'll make sure it fits perfectly and has some wiggle room for comfort.

will let you sit on his lap and help you get through hard levels or help you find new areas and items. will guide your hand with his while doing so and praise you.

if you're anxious about something he'll try anything to ease some of your anxiety. he'll give your hand reassuring squeezes or talk you through a breathing exercise or simply listen to you talk about what's making you anxious. he'll look up more ways to deal with anxiety and practice them with you.

Satan

texts you quotes from books or poems that remind him of you or when he wants to be romantic. he sometimes takes inspiration from romance novels when planning a date. also surprises you with flowers for no reason.

will help you study or write an essay. teaches you how to color code, organize, find proper resources, and reassures you that you're doing a good job. he'll be patient and adapt his techniques to any learning style you prefer.

will spend hours with you in a bookstore, and carry any books you want to buy. if you like to spend a decent amount of time in certain genre aisles, he'll grab books you can't reach or just be content standing near you while you look through the books.

Asmo

want an outfit that didn't come in your size or was sold out? he'll somehow get it for you or make one for you. need some alterations done? say less. see something you like but you're low on funds? say less.

have any pain, discomfort, or trouble relaxing? he's got heating pads, pain relievers, an aroma diffuser, bath salts, anything you can think of for pain relief or relaxation. he also gives really good massages.

will help you with any insecurities you may have. reassuring words, compliments, and sticky notes on any mirrors to remind you that you're beautiful and are worthy of so much more than you think you deserve. will buy you products that help enhance your natural beauty. he'll also help you take care of yourself with little reminders or help you establish and keep up with a daily routine.

Beel

lets you wear his clothes if you're having one of those days where you just want to hide your body or just want to feel super comfy and smell like him.

he reminds you to eat every day. he understands if it's hard sometimes for you to eat at least 3 meals a day or eat when you're not feeling well. will ask if you'd like some of his food or if he can make you anything. will also let you steal food off his plate.

will support you and keep you motivated if you want to work out. he'll get on the treadmill next to you or go for a walk with you. anything you want to do he'll do it with you. shares his water bottle with you if yours is empty. will make smoothies, protein shakes, or trail mix with you. he'll encourage body positivity, but won't cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable.

Belphie

gives you space and understands if you don't want to take a nap with him or cuddle. will offer to let you borrow one of his blankets or pillows to sleep with instead.

will comfort you if you have nightmares or trouble sleeping. don't feel secure after a nightmare? he'll hold you close or act like a weighted blanket for you.

lets you kick him in your sleep and he'll adapt to any of your sleeping positions. want to sleep like a starfish with one leg up on the wall? that's fine, he'll make room for you and find a different way to cuddle.

✄ ——————————————————————

feel free to comment, reblog, shoot me a message, or an ask <3

please do not use my work as your own!

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papercorgiworld · 3 days

Text

It was no mistake

A James Potter smut.

When you tell James last night was a mistake he's determined to prove you wrong.

This is part two of ‘I dare you to steal his clothes - James Potter version’. Read the first part here, not that this is very plot driven but still.

Warning: smut, minimal plot

— The request —

The James fic was so hot wtf 👹👹👹 we need part 2 dear author 😭😭😭

— The writing —

You walked through the hallways of Hogwarts but your mind was still stuck in that bathroom where you had yesterday tried and more or less succeeded in stealing James Potter’s clothes. He had given you a night to remember and as dreamy as you still were about those activities, you were also very much aware that it was James Potter. He was your crush, but to him you were probably nothing more than a fun night. It was not like he was suddenly going to fall in love with you after one night of heavenly sex.

“Moony, you’re not hearing me. She’s the one.” Remus rolled his eyes as James almost jumped up and down next to him, ever since last night’s events James had been going on about you non stop. Sirius and Peter had weaselled their way away from James and had left Remus to listen to James’ rants alone. Remus rearranged some books on the shelves of the library, because nothing’s more annoying than misplaced books. “I need your advice, moony, I’ve been crushing on her since the start of the year and after last night I need to make a move or I might lose her to the next guy she’s being dared to steal clothes from.” Remus turns away from the shelves to face James. “I honestly don’t think that she would repeat last night's events with anyone beside you.” Feeling reassured and a bit more confident, James’ signature smirk returns. “You think so? You think I’m special to her?” Remus sighs and rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she likes you. I mean no one sleeps with someone you hate.” James’ eyebrows knit together. “You obviously haven’t had heated hate sex.” Remus shakes his head no. “You?” James also shakes no. “No, I’m just thinking it would be hot… not as hot as last night, I mean, (y/n) and me-” “I don’t want to hear it again, James!” Remus interrupts and quickly continues. “Just go talk to her, use all your charm and you will win her over.”

You were still deep in thoughts, when James leaves the library and spots you. “Hey, hey, (y/n)! We need to talk.” Your eyes fling up to meet his and James is almost horrified to see how filled with panic your eyes are. You quickly scan the hallways for a way out, but fail to find a good excuse. James quickens his pace to keep up with you. “About last night…” James starts, nervously ruffling his hair, but before he has a chance to continue you speak up. “It was a mistake.” James’ face falls, but you don’t notice and continue. “I get it. I’m cool about it. Last night was just a thing and it won't happen again.” James nods as he listens to you, watching your serious expression and sinking his hands into his pockets. You suddenly stop walking and turn to him. You force a tightlipped smile and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You hold out a hand to James. “Friends?” You ask with a shaky voice and flustered face. For a second James looks utterly confused, but he quickly realises that your flusteredness might have something to do with how you had screamed his name last night. James tilts his head and chews his lip, eyes focussing on yours. “What if I say no?” Your face instantly heats up. Why can’t he just be casual about it. Why does he have to be so James Potter about it!

“I got the sense that you liked what I did last night.” Your face was hitting tomato alert, but he just shamelessly continued. “Honestly, I enjoyed it as well. You felt amazing.” He whispers, while his eyes dart between you and everyone in the hallway to make sure no one overhears. “James-” Your protest comes out as a shaky whisper as your body craves James in an unholy way. “Come on, love one more time and then you can decide whether I’m worth keeping around or if you really just want to be friends.” Your expression goes blank as you process what James had just said. Did the James Potter just suggest that if you wanted he would be yours? Afraid that you weren’t fully convinced, James makes one last move, leaning closer to you with his lips almost brushing your ear. “You can have whatever you want, baby… my dick, fingers, tongue, I’ll give you anything you want.” His voice was husky and dirty, but there was also an almost inaudible nervousness as he worried whether you would accept his offer or just forget about him.

A silent yes in your eyes had told James that he could guide you to a nearby empty classroom. As soon as he closed the door behind you he wrapped an arm around your figure, pulling you against him. His eyes focus on yours as his free hand cups your cheek. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but fuck I missed you.” You smile and James is wild with excitement that he got you close to him again. Eagerly his lips search yours and you immediately move with his, making the kiss go from passionate to hunger. He picks you up and you can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. He places you on a nearby desk and he’s quick to take off his own shirt, giving you a worthy view. Your hand wanders over his chest and muscles. There was a reason Gryffindor won almost every game. This boy worked for it.

As amused and turned on as James was by your staring he really wanted your focus on kissing him. With a gentle finger he pushed your chin up to look at him so he could kiss you tenderly and deeply. It also gave him the opportunity to quickly undo a few buttons so he could pull your shirt over your head. With your hair now slightly messed up you looked even more desirable to him. Eagerly his lips move over yours again while his hands move to gently squeeze your breasts before unclasping your bra in one swift move. James struggles to keep his lips on you as his eyes desperately search for a glimpse of your chest. With a loving touch his hands massage the flesh of your boobs. A slightly suppressed moan reveals James’ excitement together with the growing bulge in his pants pressing against your panties. Pushing you back on the desk James now moves away from your lips to allow himself to play with your nipples, earning soft sounds from you as sensations build up, soaking your panties as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

Unable to keep himself in check James rocks his hips into yours, searching for fiction. You quickly slip a hand in his pants, making him groan as you tease his member. One hand pumps his dick while your other hand moves through his curls. Under your touch James only manages to leave sloppy kisses as precum stains his pants. He curses himself under his breath. This was not how he planned it on going, he needed to spoil you and not the other way around. So rather abruptly and roughly James grabs your hand and takes a step back so he can take off your skirt and panties. You open your mouth to ask whether you did anything wrong, but James doesn’t let you and kisses you roughly while moving a finger through your folds, making you squirm against him at the sudden touch. “Last night was not a mistake.” James breathes with a rough undertone as he watches your eyes fill with pleasure at his touch. Your slightly parted lips looked so delicious to you, but he wanted to hear you so instead he peppers kisses down your neck, while his fingers fuck you.

Your fingers entangle with his hair as pleasure rushes through you. You whimper his name as he pushes you closer to your high, making him work harder to get you there. He watches you with focus to pinpoint the exact second before you’ll cum so he can pull his fingers away from you, making you whine in need of him and a climax. Your needy eyes turn him on so much he has to grab his crotch for a second. “Trust me, love.” James whispers and pushes your legs wider with one move, making you yelp at the exposure and heave your chest. The view you were giving him, exposed and flustered had him struggling to not just fuck you right then and there but he was committed to make you his and have you every night from now on. With his eyes glued to yours he slowly kisses down from your lips to your pussy to finish the building orgasm he had kept from you only seconds earlier.

Your body tenses and your fingers cling to James’ curls as your wall clench. James can’t resist jerking himself as you gently and unknowingly push his face against your pussy, reaching your high. It takes a second before you have the strength to push the strong man between your legs away from your overstimulated cunt. As soon as you see his pleased smirk you know he isn’t done with you. You raise your hand to protest, but he just grabs your wrist, pulling you off the desk to turn you around. He presses you against him, your naked body against his bare chest. He still holds on to your wrist as his other hand slips between your legs again. “James.” You whine and he shushes you. “You still think last night was a mistake?” He teases you, placing kisses under your ear. He rubs his hard bulge against your bare ass and your sensitive pussy starts throbbing at just the thought of his thick member filling you like last night. “No, it wasn’t a mistake.” You breathe and James kisses your neck tenderly, before bending you over the desk and freeing his member from his pants.

Gently he slips inside you, holding you close as he fucks you passionately, like you were the only woman that mattered, a goddess to him, and only him for the rest of his life from now on.

Word count: 1720

#the marauders era #marauders era #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter #james potter smut #papercorgiworldwritings

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aziraphale-rights · 9 months

Text

I have this line in one of my fics about Aziraphale's 'company-owned human heart' that has been on my mind recently.

Because for me personally this is the number one plot hole at the end of the book/S1, and actually one of the best justifications for why more story was needed: the corporations.

It's established so many times, and is so key to several plot points, that Aziraphale and Crowley need to borrow a body to be on Earth and that Heaven/Hell have control over their access to this resource.

That's why the narrative stakes are still high for them in 'risk to life' situations, even though they're technically immortal. It's why Aziraphale has to possess Madam Tracy to be able to get back to Earth and help stop Armageddon. It's why Crowley gets stuck in Hell for decades (and possibly tortured) after he takes the laudanum. (It's also the reason Heaven feel entitled to keep up a running invasive commentary on what Aziraphale chooses to 'ingest'.)

In the original ending, Aziraphale's 'no body' problem is sorted out by Adam who gives him a new one, and then off they go to their happily ever after at the Ritz. But... this doesn't address the fact that Aziraphale and Crowley are still able to be 'killed', in which case (with Adam now a normal kid) they would be totally dependent on their antagonistic employers to get back to Earth. In a fantasy universe where so many things are handwavey or determined by 'rule of funny', this is one of the few story rules that is actually pretty clear and consistent.

It's also, imo, quietly a tragedy for Aziraphale and Crowley. Not just because of the risk of getting discorporated (which is at least theoretically avoidable). They experience Earth via their corporations; everything about who they are is now defined by the lives they have led in human bodies; and those bodies belong to someone else. This is a problem that touches absolutely everything they care about. Especially now that they have realised they want their relationship to be human in a way that Beelzebub and Gabriel don't. What does it mean to communicate love body to body, express love as a thing of the body, if that body is effectively a bit of equipment on loan to you from the office?

Their happily ever after can't be complete, I don't think, until they have more ownership over themselves on this front. And that can only be achieved by a waaaaaaay more drastic rearrangement of the status quo than what we got in the resolution of the Antichrist plot.

#good omens #good omens meta #takes by me

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ceruleancattail · 28 days

Note

I see your requests are open and I haven’t made one in a long time. Feel free to not write about this because I am a sucker for only one or two aus🥹I’m just boring like that. I feel like I’m a regular at a cafe that asks for the same thing- I’m so sorry😭🙏

Firstly, HOW ARE YOU and take your time with these requests💖🫶 may I ask for a Nightfall Leona and Floyd? Maybe diving deep into their relationship with the reader? Or how about reader catching them in the act (of their evil deeds perhaps👀) how would Leona and Floyd react?

Nah you’re good! It’s like having a familiar face drop by and I already have the order ready to go. It’s a comforting thing, like a set routine? Please don’t feel so bad about it! I really took my time with this oops-

Nightfall Au

General Headcanons for Leona and Floyd

Leona x reader, Floyd x reader

Tw: death, gore, kinda yandere because it’s a Ceru fic, of course it is-

Leona Kingscholar

The boss of Savanaclaw.

He’s very practical in the way he runs the gang. Moving men around with a hooked finger, shifting them like pieces on the chessboard. Unfortunately, he does value each and every one of them, which makes him such an interesting person to work with.

He’ll never admit it though. Always muttering about doing things with the least amount of effort needed in his part… although his operations always seem to have the least causalities as well.

Leona knows the names of every single person who’s in Savanaclaw. He’s memorised them, actually. However, if you ever mention it, Leona’s face takes on a more sober shade.

“Ain’t nothin’ much. At least I’ll know what to put on their tombstone.”

How did he discover the Lantern?

Leona has made a habit of wandering about at night. There aren’t too many people out and about then, and those who are, were normally too drunk to care about him. For a while, Leona’s just another person on the street. It suits him just fine, really. He’ll pick a lonely corner shrouded in shadow, watching people stagger by silently. Quietly observing, taking note of each person’s pace, the way they carried themselves.

As tiresome as people were, reading them like a book was something that came naturally to Leona. Although like with every skill, it has to be practised and honed, lest the blade of talent turns dull.

Sometimes, he gets a little peckish. Walking about in the dark does that to a person. By chance, he walks by the Lantern. A 24 hour cafe, lights still twinkling from within glass doors. He pauses in front, watching the person manning the counter. How hardworking, they seemed to be. A little anxious as well, rearranging pastries over and over again. It was a rather adorable sight.

You’d piqued his interest, rather you like it or not.

Relationship with Him

It feels like he exists just to frustrate you, sometimes. Leona takes forever with his orders, dragging a crooked finger across the menu. He often has the most ridiculously convoluted orders ever, with a seemingly endless list of requirements. He likes watching your lips curl in frustration, as you mutter his order quietly under your breath.

How you’re so clearly annoyed with him, but you’re still rushing around the kitchen all the same, determined to fulfil whatever he says. It’s almost as you take it as a personal challenge.

Leona likes to watch you bustle around, pouring out your very heart into the meal. There’s a passion burning behind those eyes as you busy yourself with his order. There’s little he misses, especially if it’s about you. Your little habits in the kitchen, the way you hold your utensils… Leona sees and remembers it all.

He also doesn’t miss the gleam in your eyes and you place his order before him, beaming at a job well done. That pride you take in your work is rather respectable. Your smile then is also pretty cute, honestly.

As much Leona likes to tease, you hardly feel any malice from his actions. It’s almost as if you’re being batted around softly by a cat’s paws, a treasured possession. Something to amuse him, for a while. Yet there was a warmth behind his expression, whenever you met his gaze. An almost tender look.

Ever since Leona started frequenting your cafe, tools haven’t seem to be breaking down as often. Heck, you don’t even remember having this much silverware. It’s almost as if they multiply by themselves every week… how strange.

Probably nothing much… right?

If He’s caught in Red-Handed

Leona doesn’t take drastic measures to appear like a normal citizen. Lying to you would be too much of a bother, so what he does is to mislead you. If you question about his occupation, Leona just says he runs an organisation. He’ll not elaborate much, only keeping things to short sentences and grunts, neither confirming nor denying any of your questions.

Although if he’s finally caught in the act, it would probably in the name of protecting you or the cafe. Calmly shooting someone who dared to attempt a robbery in the Lantern point blank, without even so much as a change in expression. Leona would simply call up some of his men to clean up the mess.

Don’t worry, no crime will be linked back to you, so don’t worry your lil’ head, herbivore.

If you’re shocked, he’s just going to laugh at the way your eyes widen. Did he ever tell you what he did? No? So why are you surprised by this? Whatever expectations you have in your head, dash them.

He’s a murderer, and that’s what he’ll stay as.

Chuckling coldly, he’ll simply tuck his payment under his cup, before walking off into the night. Having people target the cafe means that you’ll be in danger. So Leona will simply take his leave. Let those ruffians chase him instead.

He’ll still keep tabs on you, watching from building rooftops, from within parked cars. Leona’s still staring wistfully into the kitchen you roam within. Even after all his big talk, he’s the one who can’t leave you.

Although if you were the one who was attacked, you’ll get to see the brutality of Leona Kingscholar. A shot to the head was too merciful for scum like them. Leona’s arm snakes around your waist, yanking you closer to him. While he fires round after round into the attacker’s thighs, rendering them immobile. What happens next? Leona wouldn’t let you see.

He’ll yank you into his coat, shielding your eyes from whatever gruesome scene awaits before you. A part of him feels a pang of pain at the way you shiver and tremble within his grasp. You’ve been led to believe the great big cat who frequented your store was docile. Now, you’ve seen his fangs.

For once, you’re afraid of the lion.

You won’t have any say, if this happens. Leona’s dragging you into a car and taking you… somewhere. Somewhere “safe”. Everything you need from your house? He’s sending men over right now to grab everything they can. You were almost murdered on Leona’s watch. You can bet he’s worried to death about your safety now.

You’re just some herbivore, after all. If he wasn’t there… no. He was there. And he’ll always be, from now on.

You’ll never leave his side ever again.

Floyd Leech

The famed loose canon of Octavinelle, Floyd Leech. Dual wielding a pair of destructive guns, he’s famed for the absolute blood baths he leaves behind. He’s who Octavinelle sends whenever they want to make a statement. Whether it’s to threaten rival gangs to return what they’re owe, or to destroy them entirely, Floyd’s the guy for the job.

The only problem is that he’s a little too unpredictable for fine operations. If you make him wait too long, he’s stepping on the gas and leaving you far, far behind in the dust. Not the best trait you’ll want in a getaway driver.

As crazed as people make him out to be, Floyd can be reasoned with. He actively ensures that whatever deals he deals are “fair” in the loosest sense. Both parties have to gain something, in order for it to be called a deal, after all.

If something’s a waste of time, Floyd would tell you that straight up. Was it him being kind, or could he just not be bothered to lie? Nobody really knows.

How did he discover the Lantern?

He was probably hungry. For those who lurk within the shadows, the night is the best time to work. After all, it’s called the “dead of night” for a reason. It’s already dead, so what’s the difference of adding more deaths to that phrase?

The problem is that not a lot of stores are open at these ungodly hours, and Floyd’s pretty sick of eating instant meals. Sure, they’re tasty, but if you eat enough of them, they just feel… dry. Empty, in an odd sort of way. Also, if he eats too much, he’ll feel sick, so no thanks.

So he’ll drag himself from street to street, searching for something to satisfy his grumbling stomach. Until he spots a light in the distance, and the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread waft into his nostrils. His gaze flickers up to a signboard before him.

The Lantern, huh? The worker’s kinda’ cute. Scampering here and there like a lil’ shrimp caught up in the currents. Hey, maybe he’ll call them shrimpy.

Guess he could give this place a try. Anything’s better than eating out of a plastic box again.

Relationship with Him

Floyd pesters you all the time. Leaning over the counter, fiddling with the bell until you come out. Even then, you have to physically pry the bell out of his hands for him to stop ringing it. He’s stubborn, though.

So both of you end up in a wrestle for the bell, fingers slipping and pulling away. Floyd plays dirty, though. He’ll hold it high above your head so you’ll have to jump and try to reach it. He’s laughing all the while. Yet there’s a weakness in that tactic you exploit daily.

His sides. You’ll jab and tickle him until Floyd’s laughing hysterically, and the bell will drop. These little tussles add some colour to your day, at the very least. After a shift of standing idle, a playful fight helps to get some blood pumping. As much as you grumble about it, you have to admit that it’s fun.

Floyd always seems to pop in at odd hours, so most of the time it’s just you and him. While you’re whipping up his massive order (how can one guy eat that much?), Floyd’s doing some redecorating. Pushing all the tables together to form one big table, arranging the chairs so there’s two of them, facing each other.

Sometimes, if you’re shorter than him, he stacks up the chairs as a personal jibe at you. If you’re taller than him, now he’ll stack up his own chairs, so he towers above you.

Floyd always shares half of what he orders with you. Even if you refuse, he’s grabbing you by the wrist and forcing a spoonful of desert into your mouth. How is it? Isn’t it so good? Y’know, Floyd does really like the cooking here. He does appreciate the effort you put into each and every single thing you serve, so what better way to thank you than to encourage force you into taking a break?

Besides, there isn’t anyone else in the store now. Just you and him. Aw, you went all red when he said that. Hopeless romantic, huh?

That’s cute, shrimpy.

If He’s caught Red-Handed

Floyd’s another guy who would simply not care. Ask him no questions, and he’ll tell no lies. He effectively hushes your endless inquires with howling laughter, before his voice drops:

“Do you really want to know?”

He’s not against telling you what he does for a living, but Floyd wouldn’t want to scare you away… too soon, at least. Although, he drops a few hints here and there sometimes, just to see that flicker of panic flitter over your expression. Allowing you to catch a small glimpse of his holsters, rolling up his sleeves to reveal arms filled with tattoos swirling around his arms.

Sometimes, he’ll come to the Lantern all battered up. Nothing too drastic, only a few cuts and scrapes all over his skin. He’ll throw his arms over your shoulders, whining about how much it stings, how much it hurts until you cave in and give him some attention.

Floyd loves it when you tend to his wounds. Every touch gentle, pressing softly into his tender skin. Even your chiding sounds melodious to his ears. Man, you’re really worried about him, aren’t you?

He’s silent during those times, content with watching your hands wash and dress his wounds. Your fingertips brush against his hands sometimes, a warm caress. It’s gone all too soon, warmth vanishing into the air. Floyd’s left craving for more, long after your hands leave his skin.

Your warmth, your touch, your love… Floyd just wants it all. But he’s not rash. He’ll wait patiently for you, until the lil’ shrimp wanders into his clutches themselves… then he’ll engulf them in his embrace then. He’ll wait.

Of course, that is if you’re safe.

For Floyd, no matter whether it’s the Lantern or you that’s attacked, he’s seeing red. The Lantern was your workplace. It could have hurt you, killed you-

There’s no reasoning with Floyd on this. He’s not even going to bother with calling backup. He’s holding up both of his guns, sending bullet after bullet after the attackers with a deathly calmness. Floyd fires again and again, until the click of his guns alert him to the lack of bullets within.

Oh, if they attack you? Floyd’s pulling out all the stops. He wouldn’t even bother with a gun, effectively tackling the attacker with his arms alone, disarming them with a sharp slap to the wrist. A sadistic grin spread across his lips, you’ll have to close your own eyes as he snaps the poor attacker’s arms.

It’s messy, it’s gruesome, it’s cruel.

A pair of wet hands grab at your hands, staining your fingers a bright crimson red. Hey, why are you looking away? There’s no need to be scared now, Floyd took care of it. They were going to do so much worse to you, Y’know?

His arms snake around your torso, pulling you gently towards his torso. Floyd’s doing his best to be all soft and gentle to you, and you know that. But it’s hard not to be afraid of those same soft and tender hands, once you’ve seen them quite literally rip a person apart.

Aw, you’re trembling, Shrimpy! Relax, Floyd’s going to bring you somewhere safe. Somewhere that’s just you and him.

Isn’t that just so nice of him?

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crispywaffles2 · 2 months

Note

Hi I have a request! How about macaque and wukong (separate) acting over protective after if finding out their (female) s/o is pregnant? And how would they act throughout the whole pregnancy?

Please and thank you!

Hi! Of course I can, thank you so much for requesting! I'm not really versed in this particular field of romance or the struggles that it comes with, so I apologize if a lot of these seem out of character or unbearably tropey!

Overprotective Macaque & Wukong with a Pregnant!S/O

Macaque:

The moment it's revealed that you're pregnant he's tweaking out

He doesn't know how to be a dad what the heck

But he also can't deny that he is kind of excited at the prospect of being able to take care of your child!

Or children?

Oh my gosh what if it's twins-

He's seen mortal babies and toddlers walking about in the streets with their parents, and he's well aware of how.. tiny... and stupid... and vulnerable they are

He never much cared for it, thinking that mortal children were weak for not immediately coming into the world with powers or some sense of right and wrong

But it's different with his child! He can't let the tiny, stupid, vulnerable kid in your stomach get hurt!

Rest assured that he's rearranging furniture to make it easier for you to maneuver around

He insists on going out with you everywhere, and if you were to ever voice that you were getting tired of it, then he'd eventually relent...

Maybe send a clone or two to watch you in the shadows without your knowledge, but other than that he'll leave you alone!

He will glare at anyone who's eyes linger on your growing belly bump for too long, giving them a silent warning not to come to close

He'll throw down his cape over a small puddle, gesturing for you to safely cross. He says it's a joke, but really he wants to look like a gentleman in front of you

Despite his overprotective nature, he will not fulfill your cravings without question

"A what?? Why on Earth would our baby need to eat that?? They probably don't even like it!"

Other than your strange food requests, he's happy, eager even to help fulfill anything else

Worried about the stretch marks forming in your stomach? He'll tell you about how they remind him of battle scars and shows off his scars to you to make you feel better

"See? We're both warriors."

In pain from bad cramps? He's secretly panicking and making bad jokes while tending to you because he's nervous.

Stays by your side all the time just in case you start feeling pain. He wants to be there for you

Secretly reads books and looks up videos for first time dads when he thinks no one is looking

He's a warrior! A master of the shadows!

Sly, cunning, teasing, playful, sure!

But a father?

He couldn't even picture himself holding a baby

When the delivery finally happens he is such a Karen

Might as well hire him as a doctor, considering how he practically tried to deliver the baby himself

Eventually though he composes himself and stands in the corner fidgeting nervously

He's never been one to cry, not even in his brotherhood days, but the tears that welled up in his eyes when he held your child couldn't be helped

Instinctively starts trying to groom the baby

It's all over now. You're not pregnant, and the baby is finally here

He's still pretty protective of you, and his child even moreso

All that he could think as he looked into the eyes of your writhing, still slightly damp, baby was those nine months of making frankly disgusting foods were worth it

Wukong:

Absolutely flips when the bomb is dropped that you're pregnant

He genuinely doesn't know what to do

He's not sure if he should be excited that he's going to be a dad or worried that he's going to be a dad

We all know Wukong is protective of those he loves and carries a guilty conscience about including them in his messes

He knows that pretending he knows what he's doing won't get him out of every situation. He knows how many messes he pulls people into. He knows that his lingering 'do now ask questions later' mentality can put those he loves in danger

And now he has a baby too??

It takes a bit, but he eventually starts to warm up to the idea

He's the monkey king! And he'll teach his child to be better than him. Stronger, smarter! Well, not that much stronger because then he wouldn't really hold the crown the one of the strongest beings and he would not be able to handle that

Still though, he'll raise this baby and change his ways doing so

He's cartwheeling all over the place after a while just from pure excitement

Trust and believe this man is NOT reading any baby books or watching any videos. He doesn't need some mortal telling him how to raise his kid. He's the Great Sage

Whether that's a good or bad thing is up to interpretation

He'll rant to his monkeys about all of the things he'll teach the child, and he does it with so much excitement that even they get pumped up

Will try to speculate it's gender and appearance with you

"Maybe it'll have your pretty eyes and my handsome jawline! Or maybe it'll have your hair and a little tail like it's dad!"

Makes little baby toys out of sticks and leafs

He is actually super overprotective of you, but tries to pretend he's just being casual

"Where are you going? Not that I care or anything... You're trying to go to the store?? Babe, you should totally just.. stay here with me. I can make one of my clones do the shopping."

Will furiously stammer and insist that he's not worried about you if you ask

He knows you can handle yourself! It's just... You're all pregnant and vulnerable and round and he's such a worrywart about you!

He thinks that if anything even gently bumps your tummy the baby won't grow or something, so he's constantly paranoid

Rearranges furniture so it's easier for you to get around

He even cleans up just to lighten your load a bit! He must really love you!

He's actually super eager about people looking at your belly bump in public and will absolutely go off on a tangent about how his beautiful partner is about to have a beautiful baby and it's going to be beautiful

But if someone gets a little too close to you he will not hesitate to push them down or maybe accidentally give them a broken wrist if they reach out to touch your stomach

Is confused about why everyone isn't literally bowing to you while you're walking the streets

Genuinely got upset when you two were walking through a crowd and he had to hold you because people wouldn't just part for the pregnant woman walking through

"What?? Ten dollars for this? You do know my partner is pregnant right? This should be free for her! Everyday is a struggle for her! You'd have no idea what she's been through and you're charging her ten dollars-"

He's an absolute Karen

Suggests putting a pillow over your stomach

"That way you won't bump into anything and our child can be cozy!"

Because Wukong is an absolute hazard in the kitchen, he's concocted a crazy amount of different foods

He has no problem fulfilling your strange food requests and even eats them with you

"Oh my goodness! I love crab cakes with syrup!! I'll make some for both of us bud."

Has like three different emergency plans for when you're in pain

The moment you lurch forward or let out a groan he's on it

With a snap of his fingers his monkeys are all marching over to help you sit down in a single file line

He sits there and soothes you as best as he can while his monkeys scamper around trying to get anything you request

When it's finally time Wukong is genuinely confused, thinking that it's just contractions or something, but you keep yelling at him and saying "IT'S TIME!!"

Time for what?? Lunch or...?

Thinking the baby is talking to him through you, he hoists you up on his somersault cloud and zips off

When the doctor gives him a strange look and tells him you're just about to have your baby he freaks out

He tries to help in any way he can, holding your hand, breathing with you

Offers to help with the delivery of the baby

"Oh, looks like it's a bit stuck. Need a little help there bud?"

Losing his mind in the corner of the room but trying to play it cool for you and the doctors.

"Why is it slimy?" Are quite literally the first words that come out of his mouth when the baby is delivered

When he finally has his child in his arms he's all over it

Kisses, cooing, holding, hugging or even just staring at it

He may not know much about being a father, but he will try his best to teach his child not to go down the path he did because he already loves it to the moon and back

#lmk #lmk x reader #sun wukong lmk #wukong x reader #lmk macaque #macaque x reader #lmk headcanon

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

Note

Hiii, I've absolutely devoured most of your fics and I absolutely LOVE your writing style ♡♡♡ could you do an established relationship fiction with Ghost? Y/n is sort of asexual, so sometimes even if she's not in the mood herself, she just likes to watch Simon get himself off (maybe multiple rounds!!!)? Nsfw with lots of fluff??? ♡

warning(s): nsfw (18+), established relationship, fluff/smut, (m.) masturbation, asexual!fem!reader

A HELPING HAND | SIMON RILEY

it's no secret that simon's relationship with intimacy is complicated.

but so is yours, and it makes for a perfect pair... sometimes. tonight was not one of those nights.

"are you alright?" you ask, glancing up from the book in your hands.

he hasn't stopped fidgeting, and he won't. sit. down. it's starting to drive you nuts. but frankly, for such a calm man to get jittery — something was up.

it was random, his sudden urge for intimacy. however, it was clear you were relaxing, in your own little world. he didn't want to soil that. it had been weeks since you two had sex — which was usually never a problem, but tonight was especially difficult for Simon to stifle.

"...'m fine," now he's rearranging the desktop, only sitting down in the desk chair briefly as a means of distraction. his pants were painfully tight by this point.

"simon... simon." you interrupt his rambles, recognizing that familiar shift he's doing in the seat. how one hand has remained on his inner thigh for several minutes. "if you want something, all you need to do is ask, you know that, right?"

the swivel chair comes to a stop when it faces you, but he's still stiff in his posture. "not that kind of favor, love." he says, looking awfully meek for someone with such conviction any other time.

you were only teasing him before. but now you really had an answer — the root of his not-so-little problem, which resided in boxers that are currently a size too small.

though you weren't feeling any urges of your own arise, there was fun to be had in watching him. it wouldn't have been the first time, either. "why don't i watch you again?"

there was no sense in being coy like he was the first time you proposed the idea. it wasn't as awkward as you thought it'd be. in fact, that night you found the sight quite arousing... without acting feeling aroused at that moment. besides, it made the reward for later twice as satisfying — whether it be weeks, or months before you have the desire to reciprocate again.

"you're sure about this?" his movements went still as if waiting on your permission to start palming his thigh again.

with a small smile, you tossed your book aside and let it land somewhere out of sight on the bed. still, you insisted, "deadly serious, si. it doesn't bother me."

he clicked his tongue and nodded to himself, slouching a bit in the chair to unbuckle his belt. the metal clinked as he shimmed with it, eventually setting the accessory on the desk behind him. once the jeans were loosened, you could truly see the pressure of his hardened length — begging to be sprung free.

simon shifted his hips until only his jeans were pulled down a bit. next, he peeled back the waistband of his ebony briefs, cock slumping against his tone stomach. tip ruddy and oozing pre-cum, and his stomach heaved a bit from the sensation of having his problem released from the confines of clothing.

thick, calloused hands grasped his erection, slouching forward to spit on it. the translucent string rolled down his shaft, going the pattern of the prominent veins along its sides. a truly lude image to witness; tempting, even, if you were truly in the mood.

instead, it was motivation enough for another time.

manspreading in the desk chair, he continued to work his cock. faint, wet clicks of the lubricant echoing through the bedroom. it didn't help how quiet simon naturally was. but where was the fun in this, if not putting on some sort of show for you?

he let a few noises slip, huffing through his nostrils audibly and letting out small grunts the faster you went. you lay back against the plush bed, biting back feelings of fluster that came whether aroused or not. his moans were rare and cherished — and you happened to be one of the few souls lucky enough to hear them.

you folded your arms and watched intently, gnawing on your bottom lip. not being aroused didn't mean you weren't going to ogle him, especially when all hot and bothered.

his hand moved hastily, its large size swallowing his length, covering more surface area than yours ever could. you'd catch his hips bucking in the seat while he maintained eye contact — unless they drooped shut when his fingers brushed against his sensitive slit. the same way he shuttered when you skimmed your tongue along it many times, except he had the luxury of not getting 'scolded' for it.

now he's exposed his weak points. you now knew he savored it when you teased your tongue there.

especially when he'd gotten so twitchy with his own thumb caressing. well, now you've taken note to tease him that way again, no matter the repercussions.

"need to— fuck— touch you," his speech skipped like a scratched CD, the strokes growing sloppier and more desirous. he was close; so fucking close.

you nod your head, watching him stand to his feet. as simon walks over, he slows his roll a bit, enough to ensure he won't spill right then and there. you remain in the same position, except for the hand you place on his waist, running your palm up and down his abdomen to give him for stimulation.

he stands beside the bed, his clean hand reaching out. his thumb brushes against your lip, giving your bottom one a slight drag — then slipping between them and running along your gums, allowing you to tongue along his finger like you would his cock.

the sticky, gummy texture of your mouth — like that of your entrance clenching around him. and your caress, like you always did when he hit spots deep inside. your small contributions allowed his imagination to do the rest of the heavy lifting.

you palmed his abs, maintaining eye contact to give him every bit of this otherwise touchless act. but your hand along his stomach was enough, as was playing with your mouth; enough to push him turbulently over that edge.

a string of curses poured from simon's lips, just like the globs of cum that followed quickly after. into his palm, he released his load, hips grinding against nothing until the overwhelming sensations ceased. his finger removed from your mouth with a pop, before he sped to the bathroom to wipe himself off.

a few moments later, he returned, finding you in the same position. it was quite a show, to put it lightly; not one you'll forget any time soon, either.

instead of standing like before, he knelt in front of the bed, sitting between your legs with his neck craned to look up at you. "that was alrigh' with you?" he asks again as if the 'damage' wasn't already done.

you nodded again, reassuring him once more, "of course, si. it doesn't bother me. and it's... a sight to see." you attempt a wink but look more like you're trying to get something out of your eye.

he scoffs at your attempt, taking both your hands — while simon's are icy and freshly smelling of the lavender soap in the washroom. despite your humor, it means a lot to be reassured by you. "christ, you are unbelievable, lovie. y'know tha'?" he teases, giving each of your knuckles a buss.

"i know it," you sneer, squirming slightly from the pecks. "but i still won't forget tonight. it'll keep me warm when you're away."

his brow cocks, and then comes a half-awkward chuckle. "you're a bloody tease, but i'm guessing you know that too, don't you? and a proper smart mouth."

you retort the same, having keen knowledge of how to press his fragile buttons. "what are you going to do? get the soap?"

"might have to." simon replies with faux sternness, even while speaking through a warm smile, the rough pads of his thumbs still rubbing your knuckles.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━♡━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ────have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ divider cred. - cafekitsune ｡･:*:･

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #rachel speaks

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 2 months

Text

Second Chance Sorcerer

Chapter 1 - Phantom Tokyo

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.

Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜

Nanami masterlist | Chapter 2

“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”

Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.

His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…

And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond?

Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…

He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself.

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face.

Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing.

He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?

Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.

“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement.

All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it.

Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”

The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”

It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him.

Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being.

“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question.

“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow.

“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”

“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood?

“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”

The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”

“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”

“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”

Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain.

“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya.

“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”

Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least 20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess.

“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.

“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.

Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”

“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions.

He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that.

“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”

The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”

“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”

Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair.

Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud.

‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper.

Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory.

All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”

The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”

“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”

“And when it does run out?”

“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.”

“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”

The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”

“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.

“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”

It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”

“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…

“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively.

Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery.

“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”

A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time.

But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory.

He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully.

The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”

The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice.

“How do I get out of here?”

The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.

“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”

“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation.

The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

“And how do I do that?”

It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”

The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”

The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice.

The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.”

Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm.

The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm.

Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura.

“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish.

Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.

“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”

The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes.

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

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