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writingsofhubris · 7 months

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Portrait of a Lady

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Ch 3. With 'I have saved this afternoon for you'; Rating: E WC: Tags: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Human/Monster Romance, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Cancer Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: You'd met Harding elsewhere, even though you'd never talked for more than a few minuets. When you'd stopped into his emergency room, when you'd visited Chelsea, you found yourself looking at a man you'd known only in passing heading your care. He'd led you through tumultuous questions, opened up as easily as any of the surgeons could open up a person. Somehow, you'd been drawn to Harding, and he was willing to take you up on your offer.

"You're right." Jolene looked you over before standing up, and selecting a dress from the bags she had brought. She always knew just what to pick for your outfits, even if it meant she had shown up with a needle still in the thread and fabric needing to be finished gathering. She liked to dress you like a doll.

"Alright, this is a new pattern we're trying at the store. Flares just a bit different than you normally like, but who cares?” She turned to show you the outfit; a number that would cling to your body in just the right places, in just the ways you would like to draw Harding’s eyes.

"I'll let you know how fast he drops to his knees." Jolene laughed as she pushed the dress into your hands, turning from you to start to look through your scarves.

"Let's see how it fits!" You turned from her, and did just so. A perfect fit, as the clothes often were. By the time you had turned around once more, Jolene already had the selection of accessories. Cool tones in the jewelry grabbed onto the rich purple accents of your dress, and the dark violet scarf made from silk.

"Look at that!" She walked over, just to slide the one zipper in the dress up, and attach the necklace. "He's going to lose his mind for you." You bit your lip as you looked into the mirror, sucking a nervous breath in through your teeth. Jolene wrapped her arm around your body and smiled in the mirror.

"He'd better not know what hit him."

"Oh, no way he will." Her hand moved over yours, dropping a bracelet into your hand. She moved behind you, folding and settling your scarf over your head, covering the fuzzy coating of hair on your scalp.

"I hope this goes well…"

"It will." Jolene moved to your side. Looking at you in the reflection. "I know it will. You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

The taxi took you right to the front door of the restaurant. Already, the light was gone from the sky, thick clouds threatening to spill over with rain gathered on the western horizon. Too familiar to you, you were certain that you saw rays of light just on the edge of the clouds. The distinction was faint, yet noticeable.

You forced a deep breath, knowing you were stalling. Looking down at your phone, you started to text Harding to let him know you were here. Yet, right as your thumb hovered over the send icon, your name echoed around the road, just before a car passed by. Turning, Harding walked up the dark sidewalk, trademark bowtie nestled under his chin.

“You look beautiful.” Harding’s eyes moved over your body, looking at the finery coating you. He took a moment before forcing himself to motion with his hand at the doorway. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” His hand moved to your elbow, guiding you into the restaurant, filled to the brim with finery.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" It took a moment for the memory to find you.

"Didn't Tina spill wine on you?"

"At the end of the dinner. I was lucky enough to have my dark suit jacket that night."

“Not unlike the last time we dined,” you had to chuckle.

“No, my luck ran out the other night.” His own chuckle complimented yours in the din of the restaurant. The conversation naturally continued, finding subjects from one moment to the next, a river of topics spinning into a whirlpool.

“Hopefully for the last time.”

“Indeed.” Your conversation was disrupted by the waiter, walking over at last to introduce herself. The conversation continued, topics flowing with ease, jokes exchanged faster than expected.

“No, I’m afraid I’ll be taking a work trip in just a couple months.”

“And your destination?’ “A tour, honestly. A list of towns, all along the coast.” A small wiry smile appeared on your lips. “I’ve had a book accepted by a publishing company. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do this tour or not.”

“You just published? Congratulations; perhaps champagne is in order.”

“A celebration of some kind, at least.” You hurried to take a bite, forcing a natural break before he could ask the next question.

“And what sort of celebration is that?” His smile was good natured, clearly ready to hear some silly, expected desire to celebrate. You allowed your hand to turn the fork over in your fingers, playing with the side you had just taken a large bite from. Phrasings warred for just a moment, and your eyes stayed low on your plate.

“A sort of celebration I think wouldn’t be appropriate with my doctor. At least not my current doctor.” In a moment of bravada, your eyes scanned over the tables around you, before landing squarely on Harding. “And I don’t see my current doctor here in the restaurant.” Harding reached forward to take a sip of his water, wetting his throat as he seemed to be thinking.

His dark eyes flicked back up to you, an edge in them that you hadn’t seen as the doctor you’d grown fond of, in and out of his care.

“This celebration… Would it be appropriate for a friend you’ve made during your social time?”

“That would be the preference.” You took a bite of your food again, and continued. “Would you mind helping me celebrate, Harding?”

“I would be honored.”

Once more, his smile returned, and a wave of lust shook through your body. That kind, beautiful smile. It made you want to surprise him one morning with your mouth on him, just to see his smile as he looked down at you. You had to look at your plate, embarrassment rushing you. There was no way he would be able to know what it was you were thinking. There wasn’t a single possibility he could have seen the ideas that had spawned in your head, not at this point, but you swore his eyes darkened even more, that the smile on his lips was just a little hungrier for you. Lips you were certain were softer than the words that would fall.

Even when dessert came and went, chocolate and fruit shared between the two of you, your words continued to hold double meanings, entandres. Harding would allow himself to tease you just the same as you were teasing him; tongues flicking out to taste stray drops of chocolate, your fork full of fruits guided directly into his mouth, daring actions of those trying to flirt. The charged air only found more charge until the last moment, the dinner paid for and your chairs finally pushed in.

Ever the gentleman, Harding guided you to the sidewalk just outside, but hesitated before hailing a taxi. Harding’s large body turned to yours, a small smile on his lips.

“I don’t suppose I could invite you for a nightcap.”

You were right, in a way. Harding's lips were gentle, even when his hands were hungry over your waist. Something about the way he almost devoured you made you crave his touch.

Harding's hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging your hand to his shoulder. Your palm landed on his suit jacket, before sliding between it and the vest. The fabric was so very soft, sandwiching your skin. Your other hand went to the buttons on his vest, hurrying along to open them before either of your coats were off. You were both so hungry for the other, the food from dinner only having sated your stomach.

Harding’s large hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer to his body. His vest and coat were pushed off, landing on the rug under your feet, ignored nearly as soon as it was shoved off him. His bowtie was the next article you focused on, tugging on the tongue of the tie, pulling it off with a soft slide of silk.

The moment of pause was all you two needed to slow back down, the first hit of contact sated. Instead, your hand went back to his throat, and slowly opened up the buttons of his shirt. You felt when Harding swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing against the back of your fingers.

The hooked fingers you had in his clothing was enough leverage to guide him closer, tilting your faces to meet, but stopping short.

“Where is your bedroom, Harding?”

“Up the stairs, and to the right.” You used your leverage to pull him closer, taking a step up his stairs, still facing him. Your faces were closer, and you finally took that kiss. It was sweet, a foil to the passion you both needed to release.

He didn’t allow his hands to stay idle, moving back to your hips, thumbs brushing firmly over the dips he found. There was strength in his hands, strength you’d grown to know in the time he’d been your doctor. Strength you were hoping to get to know now as a lover.

Your lips parted again, both taking a short breath, shared air mixing between you.

Your hand took his hand from your hip, and turned to guide Harding up the way he had instructed. It wasn’t until the top of the stairs that Harding took a larger step, pressing his front to your back. It was at that moment his hand took your wrist, sliding up from the hold you had just had. His lips pressed to the back of your neck, a tail of your scarf caught between his body and yours. His free hand ran over the side of your body, down to the hem of your skirt. You were fleetingly glad Jolene’s design was short enough for Harding’s hand to slide along your thigh, his palm covering a swatch of your inner thigh. His thumb, pressed against your crotch, felt the warmth that had built up.

“Just from being teased?” His knuckle slid slightly, just to feel just how wet you had gotten. “Just from sitting across from you?” His lips pressed to your neck again.

“Can you blame me?” Your hips hitched forward, sliding against his hand. With his positioning against you, Harding took to guide you into his bedroom. You would have taken the time to appraise his room, but you were concentrated on the bed that was right before you, one that looked very comfortable and inviting.

Harding’s body guided you to the edge of the bed, facing the expanse. Instead of guiding you to bend over, he instead moved to undo the knot of your scarf. The slight stiffening of your shoulders wasn’t lost on Harding, either.

“Would you like to leave this on?” Instead of allowing him an answer, your own hands moved to the soft fabric, the fuzzy growth on your head already hiding the fresh scar on your head.

Harding’s lips moved to the back of your head, pressing a kiss against your short hair. His lips moved slightly, then pressed another kiss to your hair again, repeating the action until his lips started down your neck, and your shoulder. His fingers moved to the tab of your zipper, and allowed it to slide down, showing off your back to him.

“Beautiful.”

“Think so?”

“I know so.” You allowed a small curl of your lips, and Harding slid off the sleeves, guiding your dress to the floor. It was caught between your bodies until you leant forward, your elbows taking your weight. A shimmy of your hips to shake off the dress, and you turned over on the mattress, showing Harding what you’d picked out for the night; a deep purple bra and panty set, a splurge from just a few months ago. It hadn’t been given an opportunity to be shown off, either.

Nerves were well piqued, his dark eyes looking over your body behind thick rimmed glasses. His barely opened clothes were more debauched than you’d ever seen from him, and you already wanted to see more skin, feel his hands over you again.

The pause was enough to entice hunger into Harding. He pushed you into his bed, slowly enough for you to lower yourself onto the mattress from your elbows. He took the opportunity to move his hands to your knees, spreading you open. His hand moved to your thigh, pressing your leg up to your chest, before it slid down to the crotch of your panties.

“You look breathtaking,” Harding murmured, his hands rubbing your calf. Your free leg wrapped around his hips, trying to tug him closer. He lowered himself to his elbows, hovering over you for just a moment before pressing his lips down to your neck, his head dipping down to your collarbone. Harding managed to pull your attention only to his lips, only to his hands running over your body, only to his warmth over you. He was skilled, and if you were lucky, you’d find yourself in his bed often again.

His lips were on your breast, fingers pulling the cups aside, sharp teeth running over your skin, before his lips settled over your nipple. It was impossible to not arch up into him, to take that suction and make it even more pleasurable. The tip of his tongue flicked over you, until his lips pulled away with a soft pop. Unwilling to waste time, his lips simply took the other nipple, fingers rolling his saliva into your areola. You weren’t going to let him take complete control, and used the leg wrapped around his hips to pull him closer, grinding into your crotch. You could feel how hard he was through his slacks.

“And you were teasing me about being needy.” Once more, your hands moved between you two, pulling open each button on Harding’s shirt. The fabric pulled away to show his stomach covered by a white tee, an undershirt impeding your goal.

“So I did…” Harding’s lips pulled from your nipple to kiss over your sternum, his teeth nipping the side of your breast. The thin skin bloomed in pleasurable pain, pulling a whimper from you.

“Get this off, Harding.” The teasing tone fell slightly from your voice, that same need coming back full force. “I want to feel your skin under my hands.” Your fingers took the hem of his shirt, tugging up and out of his belt.

Idly, you hoped he’d use that on you one night… If you remained that lucky.

“As you wish.” Another kiss to your sternum, and he leant back. He watched as your hands moved over your body, distracting him from his goal. You were successful for only a moment, his hands stilling as he watched your fingers disappear in your panties.

“Hurry,” you whispered, daring him to follow through and ravish you more. “I need to feel you.”

“You’re a bloody minx,” he judged quickly. His shirt was off as he leant his head down, his lips trailed over your stomach, landing on the band of your underwear. His lips pressed kisses along the edges of your underwear, before sliding his hands from your knees to your hips, sliding under the purple fabric. “How long had you planned this?”

“You’ll have to keep guessing.”

“And has your plan followed how you decided?”

“So far it is… Your tongue was doing something else by now in my plan.” Almost as a reprimand for your cheeky statement, Harding’s teeth once again found your skin, a tiny bite that was more shock than it was pain. A yelp, and your hips canted into his face better.

Harding at last let his lips move to the apex of your thighs, kissing along the edges of the gusset. Your breathing stilled, until he slid his tongue along the side of the fabric, eating to his content. Your immediate cry was insistent, a shock to you as he dug his tongue into your hole, before slipping further into your cunt. Harding was skilled at sucking on your nipples, but he was a master at playing with his tongue.

“That silver tongue doesn’t just end with words, huh?” Harding didn’t respond with more than a light pinch on your hip. Your laugh broke into the quiet of the room, pulling in intimacy that you hadn’t realized you needed. It was easy to let his tongue work your clit from there; circles and flicks, clenching down onto nothing. Each swipe made you feel more empty than before, more excited to feel him inside you.

His middle finger slid into your pussy, finally giving you something to tighten around, something to get a little bit more pleasure. Only a few thrusts of his finger and he slipped in his ring finger as well, curling them both into you.

Your thigh was wrapped around his head, and with just a couple slight humps against Harding’s face, you finished on his tongue. Expert as Harding could be, his skill showed in pleasure that radiated from his tongue, his fingers. Your muscles relaxed just enough, drunk on the rush of pleasurable chemicals. Your moans echoed slightly, but Harding didn’t allow you to put your leg down. He used his hand to guide your calf to his shoulder, forcing you open for him; you couldn’t close yourself even if you wanted to.

“An absolute minx to cum that beautifully,” Harding reiterated. “Tighten that much on my fingers; you knew what you were doing to me.” He shifted enough to reach your lips, and let your leg fall to wrap around his waist, much more comfortable for you both.

Your lips met, and you could taste your own cum on his mouth, letting your tongue slide against his for the moment. Intimacy, a connection that you were certain he needed as well.

Yet, when Harding stopped, you were worried. He pulled away, and looked to the side for just a moment, as if thinking.

“What is it?” Your hand was on the back of his head, gently brushing the short hair to get his attention again. His eyes drifted closed for just a moment, before pressing one more kiss to your lips.

“Stay.” His instruction confused you until he pulled back, getting off the bed.

“Harding…?” You started to sit up, before his hand was back on your chest, pushing you back to the bed.

“Listen to me, pet.” A nod, and you watched as he moved to a drawer just far enough away that it felt impractical. When he turned back, you saw his goal; a box of condoms.

Harding was back on bed in just a moment more, finding himself pulled down onto your body, leg wrapped right back around his waist.

“Anything else? I’m so awfully ready for you.” You knew he could feel the back of your hand on his cock as you rubbed your clit. His lips took yours, losing track of time. His underwear was pulled down, and you finally felt the flesh of his dick on your skin. He was hot, stiff, and you needed to feel him stretch you out.

You took a foil packet from him, and put it on his prick, letting a couple of strokes settle the condom on him.

“Ready, my dear?” His deep brown eyes met yours. His dark eyes only held lust for you, drinking you in with his strong gaze. You nodded, moving a hand to his waist.

“Fuck me, Harding. Please, I need you.” He didn’t let you beg any further, the head of his dick moving to your hole. He leant down, hand still guiding him further in, and kissed you. His tongue dipped past your lips just as his dick pressed into you,taking both your lips and cunt at the same time. He swallowed the moan of pleasure, taking his time for his hips to become flush to your body.

Harding’s face moved to your shoulder, at last breaking the kiss. You felt a nip of his teeth again, a small bruise already ready to form. His teeth were sharp against your skin, the pain steep.

“Harding…” Your hips swirled, trying to push his shaft into you. “Move, please.”

“Just…” His lips pressed a spattering of kisses along your shoulder. “I just need a moment, my dear.” His deep breath made you realize he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. A little shocked, you couldn’t help playing with fire. Your fingers moved to the back of his neck, getting his attention as your legs wrapped around him, holding him in you.

“Take your time, Harding. I need your cock, I need to cum on you. You’re splitting me open, it’s just what I needed… You feel perfect.” Your lips pressed to the side of his head, half whimpering and half moaning for him. You must have flipped a switch in him, as Harding guided himself up enough to look over your body. His hips slowly started to move, letting your body adjust and spread, relax and accept him in. His hand moved to your cheek, and slipped his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck on something. Your eyes closed as you let out a moan around him. One of your hands moved to his wrist, ensuring it couldn’t move from your skin. You only allowed his hand to move to your neck, a very careful, controlled pressure against your throat.

Harding watched you carefully, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in your head, how you tightened around his cock, just allowing you to enjoy the feeling of him pulling pleasure from your core. Each thrust, each ragged breath from the two of you was music.

Music that didn’t conclude until early hours of the night, after countless orgasms and moments of respite in each other’s arms. Nearly half the condoms in his modest supply had been used, and you were both coated in cum and sweat.

Harding had guided you to his bathroom, his shower, and taken care of every inch of you from there to the bed.

Never before did you expect to find your way down Harding’s stairs, each soft tap of your bare feet showing just how timid you did feel. Your hands pushed the cuffs of Harding’s shirt up your arms, checking once more that the shirt was buttoned. Unsure of which way to take, you let your nose guide you; cooking eggs and toast, you were certain of it.

You searched your way through the turns and the curves, from the entryway to the living room, a hallway that amplified the scents from the kitchen. Each room you walked through showed a new side of Harding; art from artists you were shocked to see hanging in his house. The Rothko at the hospital was one thing, but the artists you were seeing now couldn’t compare. Local legends, long since past, international, forgotten painters, the abstract colors and shapes expressing emotions you would need hours to properly appreciate.

You had stopped in front of one painting, a dark canvas that spoke to some deeper emotions in you. Your fingers extended to it, not daring to touch the delicate strokes, but only to feel a closeness to the pain. Whatever the painting was, you knew you’d have to ask Harding about it, one day.

You only made it a few more steps before stopping, recognizing the strokes on this canvas. It hadn’t been the piece he’d told you he’d bid on; this was a much smaller, and more intricate piece. Washes brought layers into the sky, the bird in sharp relief as you’d remembered those wings. You still remembered the morning; a trip to a small town in years past with your mothers, the sun rising against the sea and a flock of birds, rising suddenly over the edge of the hill. It was sudden, breathtaking, and still emboldened in your mind.

You finally allowed yourself to move into the kitchen, just around one more turn and through an archway. Such a richly furnished house seemed reminiscent of the man himself; a warmth hidden in the secret parts of himself. Parts of him that only select people were allowed to join, parts only he decided to share.

“Good morning,” Harding greeted, voice clear to speak to the time he had already been in the kitchen for, the time he had been up for. You took in his dressing gown, deep blues with perfect accents of dark yellow. It fit him well, and you could see the edges of a nightgown under the lapels and hem.

“Good morning,”You responded, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“Did you sleep well?” Harding took the few steps up to you, the mug that had been in his hand set to the table near you. You looked at him, inches away.

“Better than I expected,” You returned, looking down now at his dressing gown, taking in the stitches, the accents. Your fingers moved to the sash, just resting against the folds of fabric. “Other than feeling a little underdressed compared to you.”

“And I thought the robe I’d laid out was obvious.” Your soft chuckle bubbled out of your lips, and you looked down to the side of you both; the mug he had set down. A black coffee. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

“No, not normally.” A sip of the drink, and you softly hummed your appreciation as the liquid warmed you from the inside. You took the chair at the small table nearby, allowing Harding to return to his task. Silence proliferated between you two, the soft hiss of food cooking on the stove, and bird calls streaming through the windows with the sunlight.

Another sip of the coffee, and Harding’s voice rang out.

“Did you hear that bird? That clanking type call?” He fell silent for a moment, and you listened to the call, suddenly hearing it with his instruction.

“I think so.”

“It’s quick.” Harding moved from the stove, only to stand next to you, gesturing out the window next to you. Looking out the window brought you the view of a birdfeeder, a muted sunflower yellow. Perched upon the rest was a small bird, small enough to fit into the palm of your hand. You saw its head flick a couple times, before its mouth opened, offering that trill again.

“That is the Song sparrow. That specific one has been here for a few weeks. My bird feeders have given it no reason to move on.” Looking further out, you saw a wide assortment of feeders, ones Harding must have installed for just this purpose.

“It’s lovely,” you had to respond, before looking up at him. He’d gotten just close enough that when your head tilted, you saw a mark on his neck, something that must have been a result from last night. You had to look away, keeping yourself from leaning back up.

“How long have you been watching birds?” The conversation once more picked back up between you both, turning conversations as if they were pages in a book; smooth transitions that allowed for tangents to be explored, all whilst Harding finished cooking breakfast for you both.

It hadn’t even taken ten more minutes before Harding was setting the food in front of you both, just on the table. Fresh fruits in a small bowl to the side, a simple omelet, and a top off on your coffee, all of it smelled amazing.

“I didn’t know you could cook this well, Harding.”

“Breakfast is my specialty.” That smirk, one that spoke to how confident he was, once more adorned his face.

Harding looked cute as could be, sitting at his own spot next to you. He was holding his own utensils as he dug into his own plate, the eggs slowly disappearing.

“I had a lot of fun last night,” you suddenly said, taking a sip of your coffee. The flavor flooded over your tongue, robust and warm. “I’m glad that you invited me back.” Harding’s smile spread, looking at you. Without missing a beat, his hand reached out to cup your cheek, simply holding onto you for a moment. You sunk into the moment of tenderness, eyes closing and a soft sigh fanning over his wrist.

“As did I,” Harding replied, his voice soft. You pressed a kiss to his inner wrist, and looked up at him. The thoughts from last night, of waking him with a blow job, again drifted into your mind. Harding was already up, so perhaps you couldn’t have that exact experience. Yet, you knew that that robe had easy access to him.

Your elbow hit the fork he’d offered you to eat with, clattering to the ground. A perfect excuse, one you were going to take.

“Let me-”

“I’ve got it.” your hand moved to his forearm, pinning him to the table. “You made breakfast, I’ll get this.” You offered a laugh, and pushed the chair back from the table, kneeling down on your knees to disappear under the table. You saw the fork not even a foot under the table, easy grabbing, but you turned to your left instead of your right. The tie to his robe was front and center, until your fingers took the edge of the tie, and tugged. You knew Harding could tell what you were doing when he stiffened. One of your hands moved to his knee, and slowly spread it open, allowing you to get closer in the small space.

Harding’s curiosity had clearly gotten the better of him, allowing you to slide your hand up his thighs, taking hold of his half hard cock. Your tongue first touched his cock, licking and sucking to get him fully hard. He slowly hardened, filling your mouth. You started to take him deeper, once again familiar with the feeling of being filled.

His soft moan fell from over the table. It was enough for you to slide your fingers between your legs, finding a wetness you’d expected. It seemed he was able to arouse you so long as he was in you in some way.

You swallowed around his cock, urging his shaft further down your throat. Eyes closed, you shoved your lips further down, rubbing your tongue along a vein on his cock.

“Just, ha, like that my dear,” Harding couldn’t help the moan, his hand moving to the back of your head. His hand forced your head to stay as close as you could manage it. Another swallow, and the last inch of Harding’s cock disappeared into your mouth, humming around his shaft. It was a stretch to feel him so deep. Your hand, slicked with your own juice, slipped to rest on his testicles, playing with them only for a moment, before Harding’s balls drew up and his cum splashed down your throat. His groan was loud in the quiet room, fingers lacing with the short hairs at the nape of your neck.

His hips stuttered forward just an inch, letting the feeling of your mouth rush through his body.

One last swallow around his cock, and Harding gasped nearly painfully, sliding you off his shaft. His chair noisily slid back, giving him the room to look down at you, kneeling in front of him. His dark blue robe framed his body, thighs still open by your shoulders. Your lips moved to a patch of skin, kissing him before following his body, carefully pulling yourself back from the floor. His hand once more moved to your head, but cupped your cheek first. He managed to guide you closer, and press your lips together. It was just for a moment, and you could taste just a bit of the food he’d eaten on his lips.

“You’re proving to become an enigma,” Harding at last proclaimed, releasing your face from his hand. You took your seat again, looking at his small smile on his lips. It looked as natural as his eyes blinking, smiling at you. A sip of coffee, and obvious, fake sign of innocence from your transgression, his cum mixed with the warm liquid spreading over your tongue.

“Time will tell if you can figure me out, won’t it?”

#harding hooten x reader #x reader #harding hooten #monday mornings #fanfiction #original #portrait of a lady

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forabeatofadrum · 1 year

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@cerriddwenluna For a brief second I considered some paranormal shit where Blaine is a ghost. As in, after death he’d be stuck as a ghost version of his younger self and due to idk magic he’d come back to life at the end of the fic. And it’d be a cool way to explore a new take on life, because Blaine has had a long and fulfilling life and he died, and remnants of his past life would still be there. I even wrote “ghost!blaine anyone??” as a tag on the original post before deleting it, because, nah. The bowtie exhibition idea stems from what legacy someone leaves behind when they die and I recently reblogged a post to my main that I am a huge supporter of death in fiction when it makes sense (unlike, ya know, Bury Your Gay-esque shock value), so bringing Blainers back to life felt cheap. I mean, I can do this ghost!Blaine thing another time, in a different setting, but not for this fic.

(I am wording it as if I have decided I am going to write it. I’m not, but I did put it in my #story ideas tag, so who knows.)

And tbh the whole “in every lifetime” has been kind of done with my fic All the pretty things that we could be, *including* a chapter where Kurt and Blaine don’t end up together and they’re still happy with the alternatives. Sorta. Although unlike in your idea, they did date before a break-up yada, yada, by the way, your idea sounds very compelling so if you want to scream about that in the DMs, you are always welcome.

BUT I DID FIND A WAY TO SATIFSY OUR KLAINE HEARTS. What if this is a world where Kurt and Blaine had a happy life together and after their deaths, their kids donated the bowties to the museum, the same way my family is doing now (assuming it’s a donation, cause uhhh, still don’t know), and an OC comes in and experiences everything that Kurt in the original idea experiences and then the fic unravels the story of this Klaine through the OC’s findings about Blaine???

(Again, I am wording it as if this is going to be a thing, but no.) (And if it does happen, then not any time soon cause I wanna finish Ljubim te first.)

Not gonna lie, I do really like my original idea, with Kurt finding Blaine’s work, because I do like an, I don’t know, “alternative” fic, ya know? Putting Kurt and Blaine in a transformative work allows you to play with it and it did make me go “Oh???”, but why not both?

#can't remember if you read all the pretty things so i'm not gonna spoil #but not to toot my horn but i quickly read some of that chapter and oh yeah i did that huh?#cerriddwenluna #story ideas #replies

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awxward · 3 years

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A3! Boys + My Stuffed Animals

Spring Troupe:

Sakuya

Gabriel

Gabriel is a small elephant with big ears that constantly make him fall over. He has a pink bowtie that says 'I Love You'

Makes Saku feel safe and Gabriel is a reminder to himself that he's loved and appreciated by everyone at Mankai.

Named after a friend from theatre class :)

Masumi

George Washington

George Washington is a tiger. He is small, but his arms are like those slap bracelets so you can wear him on your wrist (or let him hang on the side of shelf like I do).

So I got Georgy-Boy for easter 2020. i asked my friends for name ideas. They sent me stuff like 'Stripes'. I went offline for a few minutes and when I came back online I told my friends his name was George Washington.

//////////

Me: tiger has a name now

Friend: which name did you choose?

Me: his name is George Washington.

Friend: what the fuck. how'd you get George Washington?

//////////

Pretty sure he got the name bc I was listening to the Hamilton soundtrack.

Citron

Daniel

Daniel is mostly pink but has other pastel colors that look like watercolors. He's a unicorn. And a ketchain. And he's one of those dream lites, so he lights up. (He's supposed too anyway, but he's never lit up since i got him like 7 years ago at a yard sale).

Named after Daniel Howell (formerly danisnotonfire) [YouTube]

Tsuzuru

Lucifer

Lucifer is a small panda pillow pet. Very easy to travel with bc he fits in most backpacks.

My mom told me she wanted me to have a stuffed animal with a biblical name, i picked him up, looked her in the eye and said "His name is Lucifer." My mom tried to protest. "You said a biblical name, Mom. Lucifer is in the bible."

Itaru

Pao(???)

Pao is a panda. They are also a phone holder thingy. Like it'll hold your phone if you're watching movies or whatever.

Like 5-ish years old. Got them from a friend. They have a tag with their name on it, but I read it once and then just called them "the panda" for some reason instead of their actual name and now the tag is too faded to read the name, but i am 38% sure it says Pao or something close to that.

Chikage

Tsuki

Tsuki is a dinosaur. Tsuki is a sparkly dino. He's green rn, but if you brush your hand over him, the sparkles turn over and he becomes orange. I like green tho bc his tummy and the bottom of his feet are orange and so are his eyes.

Named after Tsukishima Kei (Haikyuu)

Summer Troupe:

Tenma

Hinata

Hinata is a narwhal. A bright orange narwhal. Infact he is the same color as Tenma's hair.

Named after Hinata Shoyo (Haikyuu) [bc its the same color as his hair. there is a theme with this narwhal and the anime boys i associate with them]

Yuki

Steve

Steve is a regular teddy bear, except he has a shirt that has pikachu on it. (the shirt was originally Tsuki's bc i got tsuki at a friends build a bear bday party, but it fits Steve better)

I just think Yuki would try new designs/color schemes/styles by making clothes for Steve to see how they look.

I got Steve from a claw machine (my bf at time won him for me just before we watched Endgame together.)

Named after Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Muku

Eeyore

Muku most definitely loves the Winnie the Pooh movies and I will fite for this hc. He gets my Eeyore. You know how Eeyore's tail is always going missing or falling off??? Eeyore's tail comes off (velcro) but its attached to his actual body with a string so it cant be misplaced.

Eeyore has a patch that says "official disney store" but i got him for $3 at a thrift store.

Misumi

Sherlock

Sherlock is a polar bear. Sherlock is very huggable. He makes Misumi feel safe. He has a hat and scarf (that don't come off. they are sewn on him)

the hat has a pom pom on top and the scarf has a pom pom on each end. the hat and scarf and the bottom of his feet have a blue/white plaid pattern.

Kazunari

Victor

Victor is a puppy and the first big stuffed animal of mine on the list! He's all tan and abt maybe 3-4 ft long. Victor lays pretty flat so he's comfy to lay/sit on. I think Kazu would like sitting or laying on him when drawing. Probably has him on his bed so he's like a giant pillow.

Victor is from Toys R Us. I got him last August-ish from my Aunt and Uncle who found him at a thrift store and thought I'd like him.

Named after Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Kumon

PJ is a small white tiger. He is also a ball. He can fit in one hand. When Kumon is thinking or stressed or bored (etc) he just lays on his back and tosses PJ up into the air.

When Kumon is laying on the floor tossing PJ, Misumi sits on the bed closest to where PJ is and tries to grab him (but only if Kumon is in a good mood and okay with it) It's a fun little game they made up they like to play.

Pretty sure he was named after KickthePJ (YouTube)

liber pls give us a pic with all of autumn i am begging

Autumn Troupe:

Banri

Sammy

Sammy is another one of my large stuffed animals. He is also a puppy, but unlike Victor he is sitting instead of laying. He's abt 2-3 ft tall. His fur is the same color as Banri's hair. Great to squeeze at anytime, but very therapeutic when you're in a bad mood. Has a heart on his ear.

i got him abt 7 years ago. I had just finished spn season 2 and was upset abt the finale and had no way to start season 3.

Named after Sam Winchester

Juza

Tiggs

Tiggs is a beanie baby tiger. Tiggs is a little larger than PJ (and not a ball). He's a regular orange tiger instead of a white tiger like PJ. He'd buy Kumon PJ so they could have matching stuffed animals. Small and very comforting to just hold/hug.

Omi

Benedict (Ben)

Benedict, also known as Ben, is a small koala. Just a little bigger than Tiggs. He has a heart on one of his feet (i think the right one). very soft. very fluffy.

Named after Benedict Cumberbatch (Actor)

Taichi

Dean

Dean is my largest stuffed animal. He is a dark brown teddy bear that's abt 4-ish ft tall. He can be put in a corner and used as like a bean bag chair, or he can lay down flat and be a good pillow like Victor can.

It's very fun to just wrap around him and squeeze as tight as you can. Especially in when your in a bad mood. Very comforting to cry into.

I got him a couple years ago at a thrift store.

Named after Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Sakyo

Lev

Lev is a lion abt the size of a regular teddy bear (maybe slightly larger). I got him a thrift store so he's slightly worn out from age. He's mostly a pastel dark yellow-ish tan and his mane is dark brown. very huggable.

He's the stuffed animal I sleep with. Smells nice all the time, like the fabric softener.

Named after Lev Haiba (Haikyuu)

Sakoda

Emotional Support Iron Man

So Iron Man is small and he sparkles. He will hurt you/someone if thrown hard enough. Sakoda likes heroes bc they remind him of Sakyo they look cool. I'd hc that he got Iron Man from Sakyo when he was younger and its one of his most valued possessions and goes everywhere with him (or stays with Azamo or Sakyo at the dorm. Maybe Izumi or a couple others are on the list of who can watch over Iron Man.) Very protective of it.

Got the emotional support part of his name from a friend.

She saw Eddie Redmayne on a movie cover (think it was The Danish Girl) and started freaking out bc she loved him. I handed her the Iron Man and the next day she thanked me and said he was an Emotional Support Iron Man and the name stayed.

Azami

[Emotional Support] Spooder-Mon

Sakoda knew Azami as a kid. He most definitely got him the Spider-Man so they could have matching plushies.

Spider-Man is square and has little blob hands doing the web thingy. The tag said travel pillow, but he probably just chills by Azami's bed. When needed, Iron Man will be placed next to him if Sakoda can't take Iron Man with him.

I brought him to school one day and we had a bio test and all the people sitting around me passed him around and gave him a pat for good luck. We all got good grades and then he was dubbed as Emotional Support Spooder-Mon, but the Emotional Support title isnt part of his name (unlike the Iron Man).

i wanted guy in the pic, but i also wanted tsumu and hiso in the pic so you get 2 pics for winter

Winter Troupe:

Tsumugi

Phil

Phil is a zebra. He is a pillow pet zebra. Like Lucifer, Phil is also easy travel size. The bottom half of Phil is pink, so I refer to him as my pink zebra.

I just think it'd be cute to have Tsumugi with a pillow pet ok. I also thought he'd probably have has Phil for many years (since he was a kid) and Tasuku most definitely brings up things from when they were kids and shit.

//////////

Tasuku: you chose the pink zebra, and for what???

Tsumugi: its a very aesthetically pleasing pastel pink.

Tasuku: THERE WAS A DOG PILLOW PET RIGHT THERE AND IT WAS CUTER

Tsumugi: dont talk bad abt Phil.

the rest of mankai: ????????

//////////

I got phil before I got Lucifer many years ago. He was old when i got him and he is very old now. I love him so much.

Named after Phil Lester (AmazingPhil) [YouTube]

Tasuku

Cap

Cap is a husky. He was won from a claw machine with Steve.

There's just something abt the grey and white that gave me Tasuku vibes. Also, Cap's eyes are abt the same shade of blue as Tsumugi's and Tasuku knows this bc they are in love. Very squishy when hugged and with the way he sits, you could make it look like he's guarding something.

Named after Captain America (Marvel)

Homare

Ushijima (Ushi)

Ushijima, also called Ushi, is the last of my giant stuffed animals. He is abt 2-3 ft tall (like Sammy) and has a tail abt the same length.

Ushi is a raccoon thats mostly hot pink. Ushi's eyes are also pink and just abt the same shade as Homare's hair, although Ushi's fur is brighter by a few shades.

Ushi hurts when thrown/swung hard enough. Very fun to hug bc he's filled with beans (like beanie babies) so unlike all my other giant animals, he doesn't have to be fixed/adjusted after everytime you squeeze him. The tail has cotton tho and makes a good pillow.

Homare would definitely just see a 3 ft tall hot pink raccoon and claim it with no explanation.

Named after Ushijima Wakatoshi (Haikyuu)

Hisoka

Vladmir Dracula the 3rd (Vlad, Drac)

Vladmir Dracula the 3rd, who has many other names but usually goes by Vlad or Drac, is a vampire (surprise).

Vlad is a squishmallow thingy, and their tags say something abt them being able to be used as pillows, and thats why Hisoka gets Vlad.

Vlad is triangular in shape, with triangle ears, and triangle fangs, so I thought abt Misumi, but i figured Hisoka bc it's a pillow.

He's like the perfect travel size and he has a cape and a bowtie.

Named after Vlad the Impaler, the real life inspiration behind Dracula (my brother thought he was named after Vladmir Putin and I wanted to punch him for that but I was too busy laughing.)

Also named after Dracula, who was a vampire.

Idk where 'the 3rd' came from, but it's part of his name for forever.

Azuma

Sebastian

Sebastian is a dinosaur thats blue with a white tummy.

He's also a squishmallow, but he's bigger than Vlad by abt 2× as wide, so he'd be harder to carry around, which is why Hisoka got Vlad instead. Being a squishmallow means he looks more blob than dinosaur and i love it.

His tag said his name was Dominic or something, but I named him Sebastian before I actually checked the tag, so he's Sebastian.

Named after Sebastian (Black Butler) and Sebastian Stan (Actor)

Guy

Moriarty

Moriarty is my other polar bear. I got him with Sherlock and named him Moriarty bc Moriarty is Sherlock's nemesis.

He's just a plain white bear thats very huggable and adorable. I usually have a bowtie on him bc it makes him look fancy.

Guy would like him bc he's plain white and very fluffy.

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honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

A Cat Called Creamsicle | [ Ivar x Reader ]

❛ pairing | ivar x reader [ modern ]

❛ type | drabble, creamsicle square for @mzliterarydreamer

❛ summary | a cat and a box of ice cream.

❛ tags | bad employees (this is a thing for me okay), mention of death, mention of ashes, wheelchair use, referenced homeaid, pets.

He looks at them every time he passes into the room, running his hand over his mother’s dark stained wood. His mother’s canopy bed is sadly cold although he can still smell her perfume, wafting thin and light, and god he misses being able to climb into her bed and listen to her string him a story of the old gods.

She’s gone now.

“Ivar?” His watch alerts him to the door jangling, swinging open downstairs with a harsh slam. He would have jumped if he hadn’t known it to be his home nurse. Mother’s inheritance assured he’d live plush and comfortably. With the stipulation that-- of course, a home aide came to check on him every day.

“I’m coming.”

Once he makes his way down the stairs, he realizes that there’s something different this time. You stand with a small kennel under your arm, clicking the small suitcase you’ve rolled in. “What is this?” he asks.

“Creamsicle!”

Cream...sicle. You set the kennel down and unlock it, reaching in to pull out, what is a small orange tabby cat. His chest plumes white, like some arrogant little fluff ball. Ivar draws back the wheels of his wheelchair to get a better look at what kind of flea-bitten mongrel you had brought over. The cat is just as bewildered, stiff like a board, and glancing around for a way out. He’d ask why the hell you brought it over if he didn’t already have a sneaking suspicion on what the hell was going on.

“It’s… a cat.”

“I’m glad you’ve noticed.”

“Why did you bring me a cat?” He presses as if he hadn’t known why. You’ve always been a vocal woman about the need for Ivar to have more playmates than just his mother. Now that she was gone, he didn’t know who to socialize with. You bend down, peeling him away from the floor to clasp on a collar. With a bowtie bell.

God.

“Well, Mr. Lothbrok--”

“Lothbrok was my father,” he barks. He knows how you like to tease-- just because you weren’t familiar with his culture and were more acquainted with his fancy-ass company name. “Ivar Ragnarsson,” you correct. “You’re in desperate need of company.”

He’d argue if it weren’t so damn true.

“And a cat fixes that how?”

You sit on the ground beside his finicky fucking cat, rubbing your palm over his orange ringed tail as the cat hops over your scratchy baby blue scrubs. “It’s company for my off days.”

Ha, Ivar thinks. It’s a shit piece of company for an even shittier principle.

Most men his age were out, running, drinking-- and instead, he was here in his mother’s obsequiously big house, trying to make every room a little less lonely. It wasn’t working. Maybe you noticed that, too. The way he moved like some robotic wraith seeking to make himself feel better. Perhaps at the cost of his mental state which-- according to unhappy Mr. Clipboard on your suitcase said, he was miserable.

The cat seems intimidated by him. Anytime he wheels remotely the wrong way, the thing bolts like a rocket. “Get out of there,” you motion to his wheelchair. “No wonder he’s scared, you’re bulldozing him.”

With a long dragging sigh he pulls himself onto the cool tile floors. “There.” He raises his hands up, then down, slapping his thighs. “See, it still doesn’t fucking like me.”

You reach out, chasing his large hands out, and brush him as if you’re a grown woman teaching a small child to pet a cat. “You have to treat him nicely,” you whisper, and it sends chills all the way down, chasing his worries… away. Annoyingly far away.

It’s funny how touch can do that.

“Do you have to do that?”

You pull your hands away from his palm, clearing your throat a bit as you rustle in your things. Ironically, you pull out a box of those American treats you’re such a fan of. He spots the yellow box as the car finally seems to meld into his palm.

“You didn’t--” his smile begins to peak. You withdrawal a cool bar, popping it out of its bag with the smallest motion. “One for you,” you hand it over to him. “One for me.”

Somehow, he’s here on the floor eating orange creamsicles with his nurse and a newfound cat, not at all sure how he’s gotten there. “You’re in this deep?” he finds himself asking, unable to tear himself from the realization that you’re watching him suckle the cool treat. Unlike your other coworkers, it wasn’t as if you had anyone else to visit. Ivar was the only patient you had day in and out. He likes it that way-- the thought of you caring for someone else-- when this is so intimate? No.

“Looks like it.”

“Isn’t that against your job description?”

“Maybe if you wanted me.” There’s a silence in which Ivar debates that very fact. Then, as he comes to his conclusion that he can’t argue, you lean over to him. He feels the coolness wafting off your lips. “I put my two-week notice in.”

Ivar leans forward, smashing his cold lips against yours and nearly squishing poor creamsicle in the process. The cat leaps away. Ivar’s firm hand holds you in place against his mouth, and he never really needed to, because your hands have found the soft fabric of his shirt, kissing him with bruising, needy quality.

“Ivar--” you mutter. His tongue prods your lower lip before taking a hearty nip at it, and you squeak, dragging your face away. “--fuck!”

“Sorry,” he says as he pulls back. You shake your head, suckling the rivulets of cream running down your wrist. He watches in discomfort as you suckle it dry and finish your frozen treat off. “My ice cream was melting.”

“Can we go upstairs?” he asks, pink-cheeked. You stand upright, picking up the box full of creamsicle treats. If you went up there you already knew what would happen-- but Ivar’s excitement was too much to bear. You start toward the kitchen, flicking your head to motion him to get his ass up there. He fumbles into his wheelchair as you put the ice cream away, then start the journey up the stairs.

“You owe me dinner later, Mr. Ragnarsson.”

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