#hes always been aware. its just been a fact to him. same as being blond or named hunter. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pink-tea · 1 year

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dumb blonde

☆ pairing: choi soobin x gn! reader

☆ nsfw, 18+

☆ word count: 4.1k (this number was honestly a jumpscare when i checked)

☆ sub! soobin, blonde! soobin, college au!, soobin with glasses <3, dumb blonde soobin, dom! reader, gender neutral pronouns but reader is afab at the time of smut, slut shaming, use of the word "bunny" once or twice, use of the word "slut", praise/degradation kink, nipple play

☆ the smart blonde has kept your attention this entire semester, but it isn't until your friend, yeonjun, offers you up to tutor his friend from work that you realize that really he's just a dumb blonde

you had always thought that the blonde boy in your class had a good head on his shoulders. always in the back of the lecture hall, either staring at his laptop screen or boredly looking through the assigned pages of whatever textbook you were currently reading. always the first one to turn in tests and quizzes, you secretly admired your classmate as he left the room before anyone else.

‘he must be really smart’ you would always think to yourself before spending almost the entire class time to fill out your tests. whatever method works best though, you always got one of the top scores in the class. it felt good, but you’re sure it would’ve felt better had you been able to finish a test within the first 20 minutes and get the same grade.

you never really checked or pressed about the scores of your other classmates—really only keeping in touch with two of them anyways—but you had always been sure that the blonde (used to be black haired) boy had done good. and it stayed that way until the first semester was well on its way to being over and finals were starting to plague the student body.

“[your nameeeee],” a voice cut through your thoughts, causing you to turn around and raise a brow at your older, pink haired friend.

choi yeonjun was practically a campus heartthrob, with pretty plump lips and irresistible, charismatic charm. you were well aware of that fact all the way up to when the two of you were paired together for a project, where you had almost cost the two of you ten points for forgetting to correctly cite your evidence on a slide of your presentation. you didn’t even get to apologize, promising to finish the slide an hour before the 11:59pm due date before you were on the phone with a hissy pretty boy who had pressed all the right buttons to get the stress you had been building up to burst.

the call had ended with the two of you calmed but still bitter, silently glaring at each other’s icons on the same slide as you shared the citation work load, and with a newfound respect for each other. you walked into your lecture the next morning with choi yeonjun holding an iced cup of coffee to you, a silent peace offering. you had smiled and promised to pay for the next one, and ended up leaving the class with a newfound friendship that had many people jealous of your proximity to the otherwise nerve-wracking boy.

thus, your current predicament, sifting through an otherwise empty library with your friend as you attempted to scavenge for any research material at close to 10pm at night. yeonjun came to accompany you after originally crashing your dorm to have fun and play on your switch before realizing you actually had work to do.

“yes?” you responded mindlessly, running a finger across the lightly worn spines of the books, worn more by age than actual use.

“you’re smart,” he started, prompting you to look at him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye.

“yes, you are too,” you hummed, not mad at the praise but more concerned as to why your friend was suddenly pulling compliments out of thin air. your gut told you one thing and one thing only: he needed a favor.

“i am,” he chuckled in agreement, prompting you to snort at his show of ego. “however, you, have more free time than I do,” he pointed out, which definitely made your suspicions start to rise.

“just because you do a shit ton of modeling doesn’t mean I have more time to spare,” you shoot back, growing more concerned at the fact that this started to sound a lot like a time consuming favor. he rolls his eyes at your words, mouth opening up to most likely throw a (light hearted) insult your way before he closes it.

fuck, he definitely needed a favor if he wasn't back talking.

"just spit it out already, i know you want something," you huff, perking up at the sight of the crusty textbook you had been looking for. you reached out and grabbed it from where it was smashed between two equally crusty books. you held it in your hand and opened to the title page, wincing at the audible crackle of the spine.

you could hear the eye roll you received, but yeonjun happily took the invitation to cut to the chase.

"one of my coworkers goes here too, and he helped get me my current gig since he knows the photographer," he explained, pausing to laugh at the way you coughed when dust flew into your face after flipping the next few pages. "but the thing is, he's a little stupid," he said bluntly, causing you to chuckle.

"poor bastard," you hummed, closing the book and tucking it into the duffle bag you were carrying with you.

"extremely poor, he's gonna fail the semester if he doesn't get a good grade on his final, which is why i need you to help tutor him," your friend finally finished, causing you to pause in your tracks before sharply glaring up at him.

"an unpaid tutor? are you serious?" you hissed.

"it's just until he gets a good grade on his final! look, i promised and i can pay you back for him," he reassured, pouting at the harshness of your glare. you groaned audibly before turning and beginning to walk away, causing yeonjun to quickly start talking again. "hey, look, it could be worse! he's a total cutie, so at least you get to tutor eye candy!" he tried to persuade, causing you to let out a scoff.

"junnie, you act like i'm gonna be fucking the guy more than i'm gonna be tutoring him," you deadpanned, causing a cheshire grin to spread on the pinkette's naturally pouty lips.

"who says you can't do both?"

now you wish you had never listened to this asshole and his promise to buy you takeout whenever you wanted till you finished tutoring his friend. because yes, his friend soobin, was in fact the greatest 6'1 piece of eye candy you ever seen. but he also seemed to share the same black framed glasses and blonde hair as the boy you had been fixated on for the past semester.

"ah," you let the sound slip past your mouth before you could even register it. probably less than a few centimeters away from knocking his head into your doorway stood the model your friend had been talking about. surprise not surprise, he was most definitely the guy from your class.

it took a few more seconds of gawking and the guy doing his best not to look too uncomfortable under your stare for you to snap out of it. "you're choi soobin?" you asked, tilting your head. he nodded hesitantly in response.

"[your name] [last name]," you introduced, watching almost in a trance as a shy smile crawled onto his lips.

"i know," he responded, causing your eyes to widen and your heart to flutter at his boldness. he seemed to catch on to what his words might sound like, eyes quickly widening in panic. "y-yeonjun! he's mentioned you before!" he added, ears burning.

you stared a second longer before smiling, stepping aside to let him into your dorm. "only good things i hope, but knowing yeonjun that probably isn't the case," you joked, watching soobin as he chuckled at your remark and stepped in. you couldn't help but just watch.

god he was cute...

...but damn did studying suck!

after an hour of what felt like running in a circle trying to teach this boy simple concepts that he should've learned like two years ago, you soon found yourself growing frustrated. sighing irritably in a way that had soobin flinching, you tried to put down your erasable pen as gently as you could without slamming it down onto your desk.

"if you're struggling this much with the current coursework, how the actual fuck have you been turning in your shit so quickly in class?" you huffed, patience already thin enough to where you were openly swearing to someone who was practically a stranger.

soobin visibly flinched this time, lips twisting into a sort of grimace/pout as his fingers wrung together. "i usually just guess...most of the homeworks and partner projects lift up my grade," he admits guiltily, quickly shattering whatever ideals you used to have of him in just one sentence/study session.

you laugh in disbelief, looking over his guilty expression as he sits in one of your spare chairs. "so what, you let people carry you through your classes and projects just cause they think you're pretty?" you shoot, soobin's eyes quickly flickering up at you through his lenses.

"what? don't tell me you think people actually help you cause they're nice," you ask in shock, the blonde shaking his head as his gaze drops back down to his lap.

"no, it's just, i didn't think you thought i was pretty too," he admitted softly, making your eyebrows almost shoot up past your hair line. ain't no fucking way.

"seeing that you can't even get 4 questions right, you've gotta be pretty for how much of a dumb blonde you are," you immediately scold, testing the waters to see if you're getting the right signals. soobin seems to shrink even more in his seat, fists curled in his lap as he lets his head drop along with his gaze. the angle lets you observe the soft red beginning to dust the tip of his ears.

"m' sorry," he whispers, the motion of his thighs squeezing together doesn't go unnoticed by you. in a bold move, you slide into his space, forcing your knee in between his and drinking in the startled mewl that rips from his throat at the aggressive motion. he looks up at you again, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

his lips are parted, you swear you can see them tremble a little bit and you don't fight any of your previous urges to touch the pathetic boy. smiling at his state, you press your thumb into his bottom lip, grabbing and tilting his chin up in the process. he gasps, letting his mouth drop open to let your thumb slide on top of his tongue.

it's wet and you bet it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for saliva to start dripping down your knuckle. pressing down on the pink muscle, you tilt your head down at soobin's slightly hunched figure. "you said you're sorry?" you ask, pressing your thumb down so hard that soobin almost has to fight the urge to swallow around it.

instead he nods hesitantly, eyes wide and watery as his glasses start to slip down the pretty bridge of his nose. you almost grin at the action, watching the saliva finally side down soobin's pink lips. removing your thumb, you take the drenched digit and wipe it across his cheek, pressing it hard enough against his skin for his head to turn a little.

he only has the time to close his mouth and swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth before he yelps at the sudden feeling of your hand in his dyed hair. soobin watches your smile turn into something cruel, feels his dick get harder in his suddenly too-tight jeans when he realizes you must think he looks completely at your mercy like this.

"do you even need these?" you huff, reaching to swipe his glasses off his face, making him flinch as you dangle them between your fingers. "i bet they're just for show huh, doing your best to not let anyone know how much of a stupid bunny you are," you accuse.

soobin's mouth opens like he's about to defend himself before it closes and his head droops in your hold, face burning brighter. "t-they're just for looks," he admits, the fact more humiliating than it should be. he should defend himself, bring up the fact that tons of people use non-prescription lenses for fashion, but his mind is still reeling from getting called a stupid bunny.

you do nothing to help, only giving him a short and disbelieving laugh before you're yanking his head back up to look at you. "hey," you call out for his attention, locking your gaze with his in a way that makes him want to squirm. "hurry up and get on the bed if you're really sorry for wasting my time," you say, tossing soobin's glasses to some unknown corner of your room as the gears turn in his head.

he's still frozen to his chair even after you release his hair from your hold, and you harshly nudge his growing bulge with the knee stuck between his legs. the impact makes him fight back a groan as he yolts, looking up at your glare with unmistakable puppy eyes.

"come on," you rush, watching as soobin immediately snaps back into reality and starts to stumble over himself to get up and on the bed. you want to coo at his eagerness, but suddenly grab his wrist as he begins to walk over to your mattress on wobbly legs.

"get naked first," you instruct, releasing your hold on his wrist. "and do it slow, right here," you hum, leaning back into your chair as you watch soobin's face grow pink in humiliation.

"like a strip tease?" he asks barely above a mumble, obviously mortified at the idea.

you laugh at his quivering voice, smiling and nodding eagerly. "mhm," you confirm, taking in his shifty nature and downcast eyes. "don't tell me you've never done one before," you accuse, suddenly looking at him through squinted eyes.

he quickly shakes his head, shaky fingers reaching up to grasp at the ends of hoodie. he keeps them there for a few beats before looking back up at you, hesitant. "s-slowly?" he asks.

this time you can't help but coo, fawning over how shy yet eager to please he is. "slowly," you nod.

soobin gulps before slowly beginning to take the gray piece of clothing off, revealing a delicious stomach that was lean yet slightly toned. as a model, obviously he'd have a pretty face and nice figure. your fingers twitch at your side as he starts to slowly uncover more of his torso, horribly aware of the daggers your stare is burying into his skin.

it's only when the end of the hoodie starts to slip over his nipples that you feel your initial plan to have himself strip crumble. you needed him under your fingers, in your mouth, gasping on your tongue. you stand up and start to close the small distance between you two, making him flinch and start to lower the fabric in his hands.

roughly, you grab the end of hoodie and tug it up past his nipples, making him gasp. holding it to his mouth, it only takes your voice to snap soobin out of his initial confusion. "hold this," you demand, looking at him with a look so predatory he can do nothing but swallow his saliva and close his pretty lips over it.

"good boy," you hum, now using both your hands to trail up from his v-line to his stomach. "knows just what to do, doesn't he?" you ask, raking your fingernails over the sensitive skin of his stomach as he looks down at you.

your gaze flickers up to meet his.

"answer."

soobin nods sporadically, catching the way his mind begins to slip as you fingers trail higher to his hardened nipples. you smile and the boy can only watch as you place your thumbs on your tongue one by one, slicking them up with saliva before putting the pressure on the pink buds. he jolts at both the feeling and the temperature, the saliva immediately catching on the blowing a.c. in your room.

he lets out a muffled moan at the feeling of your thumbs slowly rolling over his nipples, almost releasing the hoodie in his mouth when you add your mouth to kiss between the valley of his pecs. your sweet butterfly kisses trail lower and lower, your hands following down the minimal curves of his side as you go.

it's at this point that soobin realizes he doesn't know what the fuck to do with his hands, keeping them clenched tight next to him as he tries to refrain from touching you. he can't, however, restrain the full body jolt and muffled cry he releases as your lips press nicely against the hardened bulge within his jeans.

you take your fingers to unbutton them and pull down the zipper, the denim falling to the floor around him as you eye the obvious stain of precum against his calvin klein boxers. you don't give him any warning, almost causing him to cry out again as your hand slips into his underwear to tug his weeping cock out.

he's shaking by now, doing his best to hold himself up on wobbly legs as you lazily pump his erection. "pretty," you comment, admiring the flushed pink tip. "i guess everything about you is pretty," you comment off-handedly, making soobin's ears flush red before he throws his head back in pleasured agony.

harshly, you suck on the flushed tip, licking over the head to clean the precum seeping through his slit. you know he's fully expecting a blow job at this point, but with this you get off him with a cute 'pop' and tug his boxers down to meet his jeans.

standing up, you yank the sopping fabric out of his mouth, tugging the hoodie over his head and through his arms while all he can do is follow your movements. his last piece of clothing drops to the ground, and you give a happy hum as you look him over. pretty.

"bed," you say, and soon you have the 6'1 blonde laying down flat on your sheets as you look down at him.

you'd like to give him a strip tease in return, but the sight of him is so delicious that it gives you the patience of a starved man. soobin doesn't seem to mind, however, hazy eyes following your every move as you remove your clothes. when you get to your underwear, you pause at the thought of shoving them into his mouth as you ruin him.

one look at his pouted lips changes your mind; you want to hear every sound he makes.

"where do you want me?" you ask him, patiently waiting through the four seconds it takes him to form a response.

"on top," he admits finally, his fingers now finding themselves tangling in your now wrinkled sheets.

"on top?" you ask, taking your time as settle your naked figure on top of him. only, you settle just a few centimeters short of his chest, making him whine in protest. the weight of your body on him feels so good that he almost forgets to breathe, but this isn't what he asked for.

"what?" you ask, cupping his face as his lips twist into a clearly displeased frown. "is this not where you want me?" you tilt your head in curiosity, but your eyes clearly show how much you're enjoying it.

"i want- i want you lower," he confesses, brows furrowed and hands twitching as he fights the urge to grip your waist and slide you onto his cock himself. but soobin isn't a bad boy. he's your pretty little blonde angel and he knows better than to make you mad.

"lower?" you hum, making soobin's head drop onto the sheets underneath him as you slide your wet pussy down his chest and onto his abs. he can feel everything. he can feel you throbbing on top of him, but one look at your collected face makes him almost cry in frustration. you know where he wants you, you want him there too, but you're just being so so mean.

"[your name]," he nearly begs, eyes watering up as you look at him through your lashes.

"what's wrong now, tell me," you hush, sliding your hands down from his face in order to roll his pink nipples under your thumb once more, causing him to jolt underneath you. so cute, so sensitive. "tell me what you want," you urge, and soobin knows he has to be specific.

"i want you on my cock, please," he sobs, curling his fists tighter around your bed sheets. you smile down at him, feeling the words go straight to your clit. you know he can feel it too.

"how bad do you want it?" you ask finally, taking in soobin's borderline heartbroken expression at the question. but you're pleasantly surprised at the tears that start to slip down his cheeks.

"please please please, i want it! i need you around me, please!" he sobs, his puppy eyes going into full affect as he lightly thrashes in his attempt to lean up to get closer to you.

you stay silent for a few moments, eyes taking in the sight before you shrug. "can't say no to that, now can i?" you wonder aloud, finally grabbing his pulsing dick and sliding down on top.

you both groan at the same time, and when soobin shuts his eyes, you notice the stars in his eyes once he opens them back up.

you set a sweet pace, rolling your hips against his pelvis to get the both of you used to the feeling. you sigh in content, feeling pleasantly stuffed as you press your hands down on his chest for leverage.

"my dumb little blonde takes pussy so well," you coo, feeling soobin's hips stutter under you at the praise. "i bet he gets all his experience from letting any tutor fuck his dumb brain right," you add on, feeling his dick twitch inside your walls as he pouts.

"i d-don't let my tutors f-fuck me," he whines, rolling his head to the side as you start to properly bounce on him.

"oh yeah? am i not your tutor?" you ask, making him glance back up at you. "don't lie about being a slut, you're so fucking good at it, bunny," you scold, grabbing his chin to make him turn to you once more. there's more tears gathering in his glossy eyes.

"i'm not lying," he insists meekly, letting out a loud moan as you slam your hips down onto him and start to go at a painstakingly slow yet firm pace.

"you're gonna start telling me what i know and don't know now?" you question, tilting your head to the side as you keep eye contact. "last time i checked, my dumb slut doesn't know shit," you spat, pulling a whimper from soobin. "needs to fuck every one of his tutors so that they don't slap him silly for being so stupid," you continue, making him sob as the insults go straight to the dick he has buried inside your cunt.

"do you wanna get slapped, huh?" you ask him, taking the hand on his face to lightly tap at his tear-stained cheek. "i know you like getting told how dumb you are, can feel it inside of me," you remind him, making him let out a small 'n-no' as he turns his head away from your hand.

"of course not," you tsk. "you just want to waste my time and have me put you back into your place," you don't expect your words to have the effect they do, but soon you feel soobin's hands on your hips as he tries to lean up to you again.

"m' sorry, i'm sorry for being dumb," he cries, looking oh so cute as he begs for your forgiveness. you can't excuse bad behavior, though, snatching his wrist and pinning them over his head with one hand. you lean forward more, placing your other hand right next to his head to keep you steady.

"can't accept your apology if you're forgetting to keep your hands to yourself," you comment coldly.

"s-sorry," he whispers, shrinking into your mattress.

"wanna know how to make it up to me?" you ask, watching him quickly nod. he's dumb, he's sensitive and emotional, but if he's not the cutest sub--oh so eager to please--you don't know what he is.

"come inside, show me just how much i can fuck you dumb when i make you come over and over again," you explain, soobin's eyes going wide at the vulgarity. his dick aches painfully inside your tight cunt, wanting to fill it up with his orgasm however many times you want him to.

#sub idol #sub soobin #sub txt #dom reader #dom! reader #tomorrow x together #soobin x reader #soobin smut

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blue-bujo · 7 months

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Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader): Chapter One

You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.

Roy Kent x female reader

Will try to update roughly every two weeks

Chapter One: The Other Beautiful Game

Words: 1.9K

Content: Kent-level language (you know what you're in for)

Cricket. Polo. The real football.

There were many popular sports in England, but the downfall of all of those was the fact that they were all at the mercy of the weather. That was why, in your humble opinion, the best sport in the world was bowling.

You were fully aware that the rest of the world definitely didn’t consider it a real sport, and that was fine. But to you, it was the best. No other sport could be enjoyed by 4 year olds and 94 year olds at the same time, all while having full access to a pitcher of beer and never being rained out. Nor did any other sport create friendships so instantly while in good natured competition. It certainly had for you.

You, the army brat, who had moved every year and always ended up being the new kid with the accent different from everyone else’s, had always found common ground in whatever bowling alley had been closest to base. Bowling was its own language, its own gateway into other people’s lives. When you’d finally stayed somewhere for more than two years when you were in high school, you’d made yourself a fixture at the lanes. You stayed in England for college – no, university – and worked your way through every beer league and youth camp you could. The bowling alley was your home, and you ended up staying even after your father retired from the army and returned to his hometown with your mother. Your place was here, behind the counter and coaching leagues.

It was a shallowly connected life. You had a few friends from your own league, as well as your coworkers, and some regulars that you absolutely loved, but mainly, you saw people for five minutes while they paid and figured out which size their rental shoes needed to be before they went to the lanes and you watched from a distance, telling yourself that it was fine.

One day, and especially lonely one, you were scheduled to work a children’s party. You were slightly hung over from the pitcher you’d shared at your league the night prior, and weren’t looking forward to all of the noise that children would inevitably cause. Taking a preemptive Excedrin, you pulled up your hair and braced for the worst.

The birthday child was a blonde girl who was all smiles, leading seven little friends and their adults behind them. You plastered on your best customer service smile and got through the chaos of check in, shoes, snack bar follow up, and lane assignments, then collapsed in your chair to stare into space for a while, until someone needed you.

The respite was brutally short.

You didn’t notice at first, but eventually you realized that you had somebody standing at the side of the counter. It was because of his shirt. Anywhere else, it would have stood out obnoxiously, but the red, orange, and yellow tie dye blended into the colorful walls. You turned quickly once you realized he was there.

“Sorry, I zoned out,” you blurted. “How can I help you, sir?”

The man – you recognized him from somewhere, you realized, but you couldn’t place where – startled at how quickly you acknowledged him. He had very expressive eyebrows, which shot up his forehead in surprise. He pointed at the lanes where the blonde girl’s group was bowling and grunted, “One of the little shits that my niece is friends with threw a ball right after another kid and hit the thing that pushes the pins out of the way, and now it won’t go back up. Can you fix it so their days won’t be ruined?”

You couldn’t tell if her was mad at the lane or at you; it seemed like he was angry in general, judging by the deep creases between his eyebrows. Best to take a cautious approach with him.

“I can’t fix it, but I can call the tech. Just a second.” You grabbed the intercom, but didn’t click it on. “It’s the gate on 15, yeah?”

“The what?”

“The black sweepy thing, on Lane 15?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Quickly, you called out, “Pete, I need a gate reset on Lane 15, please” over the speakers. Then you turned back to the tie dye man.

“Cheers,” he said. “Phoebe will be happy now.”

“That’s your niece? The blonde girl?”

He nodded. “Yep, that idiot.” He smiled and waved toward Phoebe, who was trying to get his attention. “She made me this shirt. I wouldn’t have picked it, but she made it, so I wear it to all her things.”

“It’s a good look. Matches the décor here,” you teased. “I almost didn’t see you, and you were right in front of me.”

A grunt was the only response you got. Fearing you’d been rude, you cleared your throat and continued. “Well. I’ll be here for the rest of the day, if you guys need anything else. You know where to find me.”

Another grunt, and eyebrow guy was gone, leaving you to put your head on the counter in embarrassment. That was so awkward!

You stewed in your awkwardness for another half an hour; nobody else came in to distract you. Distraction didn’t come until you got a call from the snack bar, signaling that they needed you to run the pizza to Phoebe’s group. Inwardly groaning, you picked up the tray and a stack of plates, and expertly balanced them as you walked to Lane 15. Phoebe and her friends were excited to see you, and their enthusiasm evaporated some of your self-pity. These seemed to be good kids.

“Okay,” you said, putting your hands on your hips and leaning down conspiratorially, “I only have two rules for you. Rule Number One: No pizza or drinks on the approach. Rule Number Two: I don’t want to see any pizza fingers in those balls, because someone will have to clean them.” You pointed at yourself as you said “someone,” which made all the kids laugh. “And Rule Number Three-”

“You said there were only two!” interrupted a young boy. Tie dye guy glared at him.

“Well, I lied,” you shrugged. That got a laugh from everybody. “Rule Number Three: Help Phoebe have a happy birthday!”

All of the kids cheered. Satisfied, you walked over to their grown-ups. “If you guys need anything, I’m Splits.” You tapped your nametag, bearing the kitschy bowling nickname that the manager had made you pick. “I’ll be at the counter.”

Your nickname drew a few chuckles and sympathetic smiles. One of the younger adults, who you also recognized in addition Phoebe's uncle, fixed you with a flirty look.

“Do they call yah that because you can do the splits, or…?”

“No, because I leave plenty on the lanes.”

He looked like he was trying to come up with another quip, but Phoebe’s uncle elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up, Jamie. Not everyone loves you.”

Jamie, unperturbed, elbowed him back. “Whatever, Coach. It was worth trying. Sorry, Splits.”

You realized where you had seen him before. AFC Richmond was the local football club, and the young man was none other than Jamie Tartt. And now that you had figured out who he was, you had to ask, no matter how much it pained you…

“Can I get a quick photo? The owner likes us to whenever we have a celebrity guest.”

Jamie’s chest puffed out before he looked at tie dye man; you got the feeling his coach had lectured him before about showboating. “Sure, yeah, if that’s how it’s done here.” He checked his hair and grabbed a bowling ball. “Where do you want meh?”

“Uncle Roy should be in the picture, too!” piped Phoebe, shooting her uncle a pout. “He’s more famous that Jamie!”

The man you’d talked to at the counter, who you recognized but didn’t know where from, was named Roy? And Jamie had called him “coach?” Was he Roy Kent? How had you not realized?

It had to be the tie dye. Had to be.

“Fuck no, I’m not getting in a picture with that prick.”

“Please, Uncle Roy?” pleaded Phoebe. “It is my birthday.”

A grunt. You were beginning to think that they were his primary language, in combination with swearing. Roy Kent stood up, rolled his eyes, and got next to Jamie Tartt, glowering.

You reached into your back pocket and took out your phone to check how things looked. Bowling alley lighting was never great, but it was especially bad today. Jamie popped, because of course he did, but Roy melted into the wall, his obnoxious shirt effectively camouflaging him.

Thinking quickly, you went to the racks, grabbed a bright blue bowling ball, and brought it to Roy. He just stared at it.

“And what am I supposed to do with this? Throw a fucking strike on camera?”

“No, I just need you to hold it,” you huffed. “The camera can’t see you; your shirt blends in too much. Just take this, please, and this can be over.”

Without giving him a choice, you pushed the bowling ball against his arm. He took it awkwardly, his fingers brushing yours. You thought he shrank into his shoulders after that, but it could have just been him settling the weight of the ball, so you couldn’t be sure.

You took the picture and sent it to your manager, who started freaking out and texting a sentence at a time, but you retreated back to your counter after that. The rest of the afternoon went quietly. Phoebe’s party ended, and you watched as Roy and Jamie gathered all of the kids’ rental shoes and brought them up to you to return.

Sorry for flirting with yah earlier,” said Jamie, dumping an armful of footwear. “Old habits and all that.”

“It’s no problem,” you replied.

He gave you a wink and sauntered off. Then Roy deposited all of the shoes he was carrying.

“Thanks for being cool. Phoebe enjoyed it.”

“My pleasure. Sorry for the picture.”

“It happens. People are weird about fame.”

“Sorry all the same. Hopefully it wasn’t too awkward.”

Roy Kent wouldn’t look at you, and instead focused on a spot on the counter. Then he gave a last grunt and walked away, sticking out a hand to hold Phoebe’s. You watched them leave before grabbing a bottle of disinfectant to spray down the shoes. As you did, you mused that, for being a football manager and a player before that, Roy Kent was really awkward when it came to being recognized.

The sound of running feet tore your attention away from your thoughts. You looked up, ready to shout at some kids for horseplay, but it was Phoebe, running back to the lanes and grabbing a jumper that she had left. Then she jogged back to the desk, stopping on the way out.

“I had a really fun time,” she said.

“I’m glad,” you replied warmly. “I hope to see you come back.”

Phoebe smiled. “I think I will. I overheard Uncle Roy telling Jamie that he shouldn’t call strangers ‘fit,’ even if they are, and I think they were talking about you. Bye!”

She pranced off to rejoin her uncle where he was waiting for her at the exit, taking his hand once more. You could see them talking, and something she said made him look up abashedly at you. He held your gaze for just a moment, then threw Phoebe over his shoulder and stomped away. You had the rest of the night to ponder the fact that Jamie Tartt and maybe Roy Kent had considered you attractive. It made up for the awkwardness of the photo. Almost.

#roy kent bowled over #roy kent #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #mutual pining #slowish burn #reader is a bowler #because I was a bowler #hence the terrible pun title #my writing

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mushiewrites · 10 months

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Got Your Back

Hiya! So I’ve had this fic since last September, I wrote it for @emmadoodlewrites when we both went insane for tickle machines and made up a few in a flustered frenzy. I recently rediscovered this fic and shared it with @wishitweresummer, who encouraged me over and over to upload it. So, I reworked it, somehow added 1K words, and here we are. Thank you @awkwardtickleetoo + summer for reading this through for me and for hyping it up and making me want to post it! (and thank u cal for the title ur a genius). I love how it turned out, and I hope you do too!

After George confessed his love for tickling to Dream, he decides to make him something special in support. Dream gets curious, and before he knows it, he’s stuck

(lee!Dream / tickle machine : 3.6K words)

Dream had always been curious. Everyone who knew him was aware of this fact, mostly due to the blonde getting himself into trouble because of it. Whether he was exploring new places without a map or tinkering with things he shouldn’t, he was used to things backfiring. But he didn’t really mind. He much preferred taking the risk in favor of trouble in order to learn everything he could about anything and everything he was interested in - including people.

Another thing Dream was known for was his generosity. Gift giving was absolutely one of his main love languages, and he constantly used it to show his friends and loved ones just how much he cared for them. Dream was thoughtful, always collecting things that reminded him of specific people and being so excited to give it to them, relishing in the way their faces would light up at the unexpected gift.

Recently, George had revealed some very personal information about himself with Dream. A few weeks ago, while sitting underneath an oak tree in the rain, George had told Dream his thoughts and feelings on tickling - about how much he loved it, and how much he adored the feeling of it. He told Dream how warm and safe the action made him feel, sputtering and whining through it all. It took some much needed coaxing and reassurance from the blonde, but in the end, George got it all out. Dream was there to support him through the whole thing, wrapping him into the biggest hug he could while showering him in praise.

Immediately after George had left that day, the cogs in Dream’s brain began to turn. He was set on creating things to show George that he didn’t have to be embarrassed about his secret adoration for tickling, wanting to make him something special and just for him. Dream spent many nights hunched over his crafting table drawing up blueprints, feeling like a madman whenever he came up with a new contraption to torture George with. After coming up with a few solid ideas, the building began.

It started with a small tickle machine.

It was around the same size and shape of a normal backpack, and designed to sit against the back the same way. There were eight retractable arms that sat over the shoulders, ribs and sides, much like how a koala would cling onto a person. The arms were designed to be able to perform the meanest of tickles that George could handle (or not, but that wasn’t Dream’s problem). The ends of the metal rods were covered in small rubber nubs, molded to glide expertly between ribs, to skitter up and down squishy sides, to poke and prod against sensitive stomachs - the possibilities were endless on someone as ticklish as George.

The machine was still in the prototype stages, but it was ready to be tested to make any final adjustments. He planned on waiting until the next time he was with George to test it, wanting to see how the machine worked on the smaller boy and hoping to find ways to make improvements. But the longer the device sat idly, waiting for its first victim, the more Dream’s curiosity grew.

So he decided to test it himself.

After a lot of pacing and contemplating, he walked over to the chest in the corner of the room where he kept the machine, opening the lid and chuckling nervously when he saw it. It looked like some kind of giant upside down bug, with the legs curled in on themselves while in the ‘off’ position. Dream lifted it from the chest, holding it in his hands and inspecting it while the butterflies in his stomach erupted into a whole new wave of panic. It took a bit of self convincing but he finally decided that yes, he was absolutely going to test this now. What George didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Dream let out a nervous giggle as he pressed the little green power button on the middle of the machine, reaching around and holding it against his back the best he could to try and secure it. He struggled with the positioning, taking a few steps back until he felt his heels hit the wall. Dreamed leaned against it, using the wall to help hold the machine in the correct spot and allowing the arms to finally extend out and over his body, clinging on and tightening to hold itself in place. The blonde watched in amusement as the arms reached over his shoulders and hugged around different parts of his ribs and sides, settling down after a few minutes and becoming still against him. He smirked to himself, happy with the way the machine was working so far.

Dream jumped forward with a yelp as the arms began to move, pulling him from his thoughts and bringing his attention to the new sensation that was spreading across his torso. It was only the first stage of the tickling, Dream having set different settings and stages for different tickling speeds and techniques. But even at the lowest stage, it had Dream doubled over, squirming against the wall as the ends of the metal arms pressed lightly against his ribs. The drew small, slow circles into the bones, pulling strained laughs out of Dream even as he tried his hardest to hold them in. He didn’t expect it to be this bad, but it was, and all he could think about was how much this would get to George. Through his panicked giggles he cheered at his success in making a functioning tickle machine.

The arms slowed to a halt, giving Dream time to catch his breath. He stood back up on his feet, turning around to face the wall and leaning his forehead against it with a groan. He closed his eyes as he continued to take in deep breaths, smiling at the thought of George screaming and squealing having to endure this himself. Suddenly the arms sprung back to life, digging in with a little more pressure at a quicker speed. Dream was thrown into loud cackles almost immediately, pushing off the wall and throwing his head back, his arms pressed as tightly as he could to his sides in an attempt to block out the tickly feeling.

“Ohoho my Gohohod, fuck! Thihis is bahahad!” Dream knew no one was around but couldn’t help but narrate the feeling. It was just so much more ticklish than he ever thought it would be, and it was only the second stage. He clenched his fists tightly, his eyes still squeezed shut as he let out a wheeze through his laugh, hiccups and high pitched squeals following closely behind.

The arms that rested over his shoulders were prodding into his top ribs, just below his armpits. They dug in slightly, vibrating over the bones every few seconds and making Dream feel weak in the knees. The other three sets of arms were poking into his ribs and sides, moving slightly every time they lifted up and touching down, always tickling a new patch of skin to keep him squirming. He leaned forward as he cackled, trying his best to stay standing as he laughed himself silly. He couldn’t remember the last time he was tickled this much - in his defense, he couldn’t really remember anything anyway with how fiercely the machine was tickling. Through it all, though, he did have one consistent thought; it tickled, and it tickled bad.

Dream gasped for air the minute the machine came to another pause, his giggles remaining as the metal arms stayed pressed against the bones of his ribs. He couldn’t shake the ghost tickles that had his stomach doing somersaults, even when he used his hands to rub the areas around where the arms were resting. The blonde found himself giggling helplessly, deciding he’d done enough testing for one day and reaching back in an attempt to power off the machine. George could try out the more intense settings the next time he stopped by.

But as Dream felt around blindly for the power button, he realized he couldn’t reach it from this position. He opened his eyes in a panic, quickly looking around on the table beside him for anything he could use to help reach it.

“Shit. Uhm….” Dream was mumbling under his breath as he searched through different tools, eventually giving up and turning around to gently press against the wall behind him to try and successfully hit the power button. But it was no use, and the familiar sound of the machine whirring to life echoed through the room once more.

Suddenly the arms were digging into his ribs and sides, only this time, the bottom set of arms made their way over to his very sensitive tummy. He let out a shriek as they vibrated into the pudge of his lower tummy, between his belly button and the waistband of his pants.

“No no nahahahaha! Fuhuhuck, plehehease! PLEHEHEASE!” Dream wailed, feeling the second lowest set of arms moving over either side of his belly button and pressing in, vibrating again, but at a much faster pace than before. He doubled over once again, his back arching off the wall before leaning over with his elbows to his knees, cackling towards the floor with his eyes squeezed shut.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the top two sets of arms began seeking out even more sensitive spots on his very ticklish torso. The lower of the top two sets found their way to the back of Dream’s ribs, a spot he had programmed purposely to fuck with George. He cried out at the feeling, never having been tickled there before and realizing how absolutely torturous it was. The top set framed themselves perfectly to wiggle their way under Dream’s arms, sending him flying back against the wall with his arms crossed over his stomach tightly.

“Nohoho, oh fuhuhuck, stohohop!” His knees began to wobble and he allowed himself to slowly slide down the wall, only stopping when he hit the ground with a thump. Dream pulled his knees up as much as he could, attempting to try and protect himself from the tickling but finding that it only further pressed the arms into his skin. He quickly straightened his legs out against the ground, kicking as he grabbed fistfuls of his pants, needing to hold onto something.

As the tickling continued, Dream fell to the ground on his side, turning onto his back and rolling back and forth a few times to try and hit the button against the floor. The third set of arms moved a little closer on either side to his belly button and he squealed, thrashing and squirming and kicking out as much as he could. No matter how much he pressed the machine into the ground, no matter what angle, it was no use - Dream was well and truly stuck.

The tickling finally stopped, but Dream couldn’t stop laughing. He was overwhelmed with the vibrations from the ghost tickles, still feeling the tingly circles and pokes over his torso as if they were still happening - even in the spots left untouched. He heard a noise from across the room and opened his eyes quickly, almost choking on his own breath as he saw George standing in the doorway, whose cheeks were bright red with his jaw dropped to the floor.

“G-George! I cahahan-”

“Dream?” George interrupted, his blushy cheeks somehow also appearing to be drained of all color as his eyes focused on the machine still wrapped around the blonde. “..What is that?”

The younger boy opened his mouth to try and explain, to try and make any excuse he could, but was cut off with a loud cackle when the machine clicked back on, the arms back in motion and making him scream.

“Noho not again! Nohoho plehehease! NOHOHO!” Dream let out a squeal that bounced off the walls of the room, startling George with the force of it. The older boy ran over and kneeled next to the blonde, trying to figure out what it was and what exactly was happening.

He watched with wide eyes as the metal arms poked and swirled and vibrated against Dream’s torso, focusing on his ribs and under his arms. The blonde let out a scream when the machine began to pick up speed and the bottom arms moved, making him arch up against the ground before falling back down against it, writhing and kicking as he did. Dream’s hands were wrapped around the bottom set of arms, pulling as much as he could to try and dislodge them, but finding it useless. George’s eyes trailed down to where they disappeared under the blonde’s shirt, moving a hand to grab the bottom of the fabric to slowly pull it up. George felt his face burning up as he saw the two bottom arms tickling at Dream’s belly button - one circling around the edge as the other pulled at it, occasionally dipping in and making Dream cry out in ticklish agony.

Dream swore he saw stars from how hard his eyes were squeezed shut. He knew he was screaming through his laughter, yet everything sounded muffled. His senses were on fire. The arms of the machine were sinking into every sensitive spot with precision, and with the two taunting the small indent in the center of his tummy, he thought he might seriously pass out at any second. His face was hot, and he could hear George talking to him and saying his name, but he couldn’t focus on anything else besides how horribly everything tickled. He attempted to open his eyes, but he was laughing so hard that his cheeks were keeping them squinted, blurring his vision and making it essentially impossible to see. Dream had no choice but surrender to the tickles, throwing his head back and letting himself laugh as much as he needed to.

He felt a hand grab his shoulder and pull him onto his side, and suddenly he could breathe again, taking in gulps of air and gasping through his cackles. George had managed to find the power button, finally freeing Dream from the ticklish hell he had been enduring. The brunette was carding his hand through the blonde waves, adjusting the two so that Dream’s head was resting against his thighs.

“Thank you, ohoho my God…” Dream managed through his left over giggles, turning to lay flat on his back as he draped a hand over his chest, letting out a deep sigh when he felt how fast his heart was beating. His eyes were still shut but he could hear the brunette laugh from above him, feeling his hand being moved from his chest and being replaced with one much smaller than his own. Dream moved his hand back, laying it over George’s and holding it for comfort.

“What even was that thing?” George asked hesitantly. Dream could sense the nervousness in the elder’s voice, opening his eyes slowly to adjust to the light and allowing them to focus on the brunette. George’s face was closer than he expected, making him giggle when George realized and pulled back quickly, clearing his throat and looking away from the blonde. Dream watched with a wide smile as George’s face grew an even deeper shade of red, clearly flustered at the situation he had walked in on.

“Well,” Dream spoke through his teeth, grunting as he moved to sit up slowly and cracking his back before turning around to face George. “You were nice enough to trust me with the whole tickling thing, so I wanted to do something special for you!”

Dream laughed as George physically cringed at the mention of the dreaded word, turning his attention from the blonde once again and looking down at his lap, picking at a loose thread in his pants to distract himself as he continued.

“O-Okay, and what? You decided you wanted to torture yourself to relate, or….?” He let out a squeaky giggle when Dream scoffed at the accusation, squirming to the side when a poke landed on his ribs.

“No, idiot. I actually made it…for you. For fun for us, but I was also thinking about it for the times where I can’t be there to help, you know?” Dream spoke gently, suddenly feeling shy about the whole thing and reaching behind him to pick up the small machine to hand to George. He watched as George’s face continued to turn a bright red, biting his lip to hold back the giggle that was threatening to escape to try and remain calm, knowing how embarrassing the subject was for the brunette.

“Dreeeeam,” George whined, holding the machine in one hand and bringing his free hand up to cover his face. “That’s…that’s just…”

He was struggling to find the words, torn between wanting to scream out in embarrassment, and wanting to cry because of how lucky he was to have someone like Dream supporting him. The younger boy giggled at the response, leaning forward and pulling the smaller boy into a hug. He smiled when he felt George lean into him, letting out a shaky breath as Dream used a hand to rub up and down his back soothingly.

“You’re welcome, Gogy.” Dream smirked, feeling George hide his face into the crook of his neck, whining about how much of an idiot he was. He let George pull away after a minute, using the floor to push himself up onto his feet and leaning down to offer George a hand. The brunette accepted it, grabbing the bigger hand and laughing when Dream yanked him to his feet as if he weighed nothing.

“I have a feeling this thing is gonna absolutely destroy you, Georgie.” Dream teased, poking at the machine and giggling when George turned his hips to prevent him from touching it. He noticed the elder’s blush had spread to the tips of his ears, the light pink color slowly turning a lighter shade of red the more flustered he became. George rolled his eyes at the blonde, hugging the machine to his chest as he spoke.

“Well, it sure did destroy you, didn’t it, Dreamie?” Dream made a move to walk towards the door, George suddenly stepping in his path and making the two almost collide together. He felt his own stomach flip at the question, taking a small step back and bringing a hand up to run through his hair as a way to cope with the nervousness he suddenly felt.

“I don’t know about that, but-” he tried to excuse the accusation away, but George was having none of it. He got a sudden wave of confidence, and mixed with his normal cockiness, Dream was doomed.

“No no no, you’re not gonna act like that didn’t just wreck you to pieces, Dream.” The blonde felt himself swallow hard as George took a step forward back into his space. “Which is kind of questionable, actually, because why would someone subject themselves to such torture if they didn’t like it? Care to explain?”

“N-No! No, I-”

“You liked it, didn’t you?” George held up a hand, slapping it over Dream’s mouth when he opened it to protest. “You wouldn’t have tried it if you didn’t think you’d like it at least a little bit.”

George removed his hand to let Dream answer, bursting into bright giggles when the blonde pressed his lips together tightly, his cheeks burning up and turning a dusty pink.

“I don’t!” George laughed at the way Dream was immediately defensive, not having any real excuse to offer other than a denial.

“Don’t worry, Dream. Your secret’s safe with me.” The older boy poked a finger into Dream’s tummy, making him jump back with a squeal. When he looked up again, George was walking towards the door, laughing as he went. Dream groaned, looking down at his shirt and bringing a hand up to his stomach, rubbing out the lingering tingles that George had left behind. He heard the door opening, looking up and being met with a very menacing smirk.

“Just to let you know, I absolutely will be using this against you. Watch your back, Dream. Your very, very ticklish back.” Dream felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched George flash him one last smile before turning to step through the threshold of the door with a wave, closing it lightly behind him.

Dream walked over to the crafting table, leaning back against it and letting out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. He sat down on the stool next to him, letting his head fall into his hands with a flustered whine, giggling to himself at how ridiculous the whole thing was.

When the flustered feeling finally passed, Dream was back on his feet, scribbling over blueprints of other ideas he had, making little improvements and upgrades as he worked. Dream decided he needed to up his game. If George thought that machine was mean, he decided to show him just how bad it could get. Dream was about to create George’s worst nightmare. Dream was determined to make George cry.

And he had just the idea on how to do it.

#lee!dream #tickle machine #this is different from the normal #and is very clearly set up for a sequel………so if u like this and wanna see more pls lemme know #again thank u to emma for letting me post this #thank u to summer for really hyping the shit out of this i don’t think i would’ve ever posted it without you #and thank u to my puppy cal for reading literally all of my fics and helping with the title #anyway…..enjoy!#mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff

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dontfeeltoohot · 8 months

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I wrote some Chase fic and it's @softsicknose 's birthday!!!

This is written in a different POV- Martha Masters' from season seven. I really love her, and I enjoyed stretching my writing comfort zone for her. I hope you enjoy!!!

XXX

Chase is late. Late, she’s found, is based solely on when House arrives (unless they’ve been given a time by Cuddy). Chase is usually always early. Early is determined by the time at least two of the team are in the diagnostics room. Out of all the times she’s walked through the glass doors and into the room in the early morning, he’s only been absent four times. All four of those times have also seen him strolling in before their boss. The fact that she, Taub, Foreman, Doctor Hadley and even House are here and Chase isn’t is odd. Martha likes routines, likes things to stay the same and this disruption in the day to day has her feeling anxious. Her prefrontal cortex is telling her that the blonde is probably just stuck in traffic and there’s nothing to worry about, but it doesn’t stop her from fiddling with the pen she’d borrowed from the man earlier that week.

No one else mentions that the intensivist is missing, and maybe they all know something she doesn’t? It wouldn’t be the first time- she’s becoming used to being left out of things or being cast aside as an inside joke is told. She’s never gotten the courage to ask what some of the things they say mean, because when it comes down to it she’s here to learn about medicine and science, not about Foreman’s brother or the reason Doctor Hadley was in jail.

Seventeen minutes after they start the differential, Chase pushes through the door, looking minorly rumpled but otherwise fine- attractive as always. The realization that she’s just called the blonde attractive sinks in. Objectively, she’s aware he’s much more pleasing on the eyes than anyone else on the team; except maybe Doctor Hadley, and that statistically blonde hair and blue eyes tend to lend themselves to what the world has deemed beautiful. His accent doesn’t hurt either.

Get it together Martha, it’s Chase. Chase, whose password is password, who sleeps with three women in one night only to forget their names. Chase, who does crosswords instead of listening to their boss. Chase, who is also an amazing intensivist and who has gotten more correct diagnosies than anyone else since she’s been here. Chase, who always looks just a little put out when House doesn’t latch on to one of his jokes or praise him when he’s found the correct answer.

“Chase! How kind it is of you to grace us with your presence.”

The words snap the brunette out of her trance.

As House snarks, a dark blue folder is thrown at the man who tries to catch it but fails. Instead it hits his shoulder and flops onto the table. Taub and Foreman are reading through their own copies, seemingly unbothered by the disturbance, that or they’re tired of House’s antics. Doctor Hadley is glancing up at Chase with a furrowed brow but he gives her a shrug and sits down, leather messenger bag swaying on the back of his chair.

With how close he’s sitting, Masters can smell his cologne- something aquatic and airy, no doubt to remind him of Australia and its beaches. As the team bounces ideas off one another, she notices Chase pressing the back of his pointer finger against his right eye- closed. The structure of his jaw tells her it’s clenched, which indicates he’s either annoyed or possibly in pain. Annoyed seems much more likely.

“What about you, Captain Kangaroo? Any ideas in that pretty head of yours? Or did the one too many drinks you had last night impair its functioning?”

“Actually, the effects of alcohol wear off in usually six hours unless your metabolism is slow. Even then, it’s likely to be around eight or nine hours,” she offers.

“I didn’t drink last night, and that insult was sub par,” Chase says as if he’s been waiting for some kind of accusation. “Could be a DVT that traveled to her lung.”

Something about his voice is different today, it’s lower, maybe? She’s not sure which adjective goes best, but she watches as he swallows and his adams apple bobs unnaturally slowly. He goes to automatically grab a mug that’s not there, hand halfway outstretched before he drops it and rubs the lower half of his face. House’s eyes drag over him like a cat stalking his prey but the older man doesn’t say anything, instead he just sighs, then twirls his orange expo marker in his hand, staring at the list of symptoms on the board.

“DVT was checked for, next.”

As Martha wracks her brain for different causes of the new patient's afflictions, she hears rather than see’s Chase shift in his chair, then a breath being inhaled and snagging.

“h’ihnGgkt! HnGXxt! hh-NgXTtuh!!”

The sneezes are far quieter and less obtrusive than she’s imagined. She’s thought since starting that the blonde’s sneezes would be loud and harsh, slightly dramatic. These are small and very obviously meant to be quiet. Interesting.

“You shouldn’t stifle like that, you can burst your eardrums from holding a sneeze in,” she comments after his last one, watching him raise his eyes from the folder, one eyebrow quirked upwards. She flushes, unsure if the comment was appropriate. She just wants to help! What if Chase blew out an ear drum from being careless? She’s simply doing a kind thing, she tells herself.

“I’ve done it my entire life, Masters, think I’ll be alright.”

As Foreman suggests an alternate cause, Masters nods and writes down both ideas, wanting to keep up with the details of the case, even if they turn out to be wrong. A sniffle breaks her concentration and as subtly as she can; feigning looking at the clock, she glances at the doctor next to her, noting the barely visible shadows under his eyes. Not enough sleep, then. The rest of the DDX goes as usual, with House giving them all assignments. She gets put with Taub to go break into the patient's house.

“Do you really think this is a good idea? She can’t keep her holier-than-thou mouth shut when it comes to this type of stuff. Wouldn’t it be better for me and…anyone else goes?”

The med student frowns and twists at her cardigan, headband feeling suddenly too tight. Her cheeks feel warm and she knows her capillaries have opened and blood has rushed to show her emotions whether she wants to or not. Foreman gives a low laugh, rolling his eyes. Chase looks like he might say something but Doctor Hadley beats him to it.

“If you’re so worried, then do the labs and I’ll go with her.”

Surprise drives out the embarrassment of feeling like an unwanted dog at the pound. Didn’t Doctor Hadley dislike her too? Why was she rushing to her aide? Was this another joke she was going to be the butt of? She chances a look at the older woman and sees her smiling.

“Us girls have to stick together, right?”

“R-Right.”

Taub blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks and nods, saluting her.

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

“Alright children, play nice,” House calls from where he’s hobbling through the door to his connected office, tone indicating he doesn’t actually care what’s being said to one another.

The car ride to the patient’s house is filled with an awkward silence. Martha’s unhappy she has to go at all, it’s unethical and illegal. No one else cares and she wonders if it’s because of House or their own morals. Her mother taught her right from wrong at a young age- what did everyone else’s mother teach them? As she watches trees go by, Doctor Hadley fiddles with the radio and then looks over when they stop at a red light.

“So, how’re you liking it on the team so far?”

“It’s been, uhmm…interesting? Definitely seeing more than what I’ve been exposed to in my own world. A lot of it’s for the worse,” she trails off, her last sentence barely audible, but the other woman must hear it.

“You know, this team has been through a lot. And a lot of things have changed all of us, but when it comes down to it, we’re here to do our job and save people. If that means breaking rules, well.” A pause. “Is it better to watch someone die while keeping yourself pure or save an innocent life and do something risky?”

For once, Martha’s unsure of the answer. Both are morally wrong- is there an answer that’s better than the other? It feels like some kind of perverse test so she crosses her arms against her chest and tries not to act like a petulant child.

“Is that why you’re all so codependent?” The words tumble from her mouth before she can stop them. She wants to smack herself.

Doctor Hadley- Thirteen, as the boys call her for unknown reasons, laughs and a smile appears.

“I wouldn’t say codependent. We just work well as a team. We also work well individually. Chase was first to work with House, then Foreman joined. After they left, Taub and I were hired. Foreman came back, and then Chase. We all fell into an easy team who can communicate pretty well.”

“House likes you all. Was that, did he-“ she sighs and tries to reign all of her thoughts together. “Was he like that with everyone who’s been part of his team before? Or were there others who were treated like me?”

“I think that that’s a question for him, even if he won’t answer it. He doesn’t hate you. If he did, you wouldn’t still be here. He obviously sees something in you that he wants to cultivate.”

Martha isn’t sure what to say to that, so she nods and let’s the silence fall around them again. She’s never been good with small talk, and now it’s apparent she’s not good with any kind of talk.

They get back to the hospital two hours later, when the clock is about to hit noon. The women head to diagnostics but it’s empty, so they reroute and take all of the plastic baggies full of their findings to the lab to start working. As they approach the large room, Martha notices a familiar figure sitting in the corner with his back to the door. He’s got his lab coat on now, and from what she can tell he’s got his chin leaning on his hand, posture screaming ‘I’m bored’. He must be waiting for a test to finish up.

“Hey, why don’t you go find House or Foreman and let them know I’m about to run the tests,” Thirteen suggests, taking the large bag full of items and holding it. “Otherwise, House will bust in and scare the hell out of us.”

Martha gets the feeling she’s being deliberately shooed away. There’s more than enough things that need to be tested for them to both be running them at the same time, but the inflection in the woman’s voice indicates a finality attached to her words.

“Okay, uhm, I’ll let him know. You’re not going to do some crazy illegal test are you?”

“No, I just think he should be updated,” the woman says in an almost trained voice, calmness radiating from her sudden tone.

“Right. I can do that.”

The brunette gets half way down the hall when she realizes she has no clue where their grumpy boss might be. Not wanting to explore the entirety of the hospital, Martha turns around and starts to walk back to ask her coworkers. When she gets close enough to see into the dimly lit room, she freezes. The two seem to be arguing. Chase is still on the stool in front of the microscope, looking up at Thirteen with a petulant, almost defiant look on his face. Feeling like interrupting might not be a good idea, she goes off in search of House, feeling more out of the loop than she has all day.

XXX

“Tests were negative.”

“Same with ours.”

Thirteen and Chase walk in; a much needed interruption to whatever the other three men on the team are talking about, to inform them of their findings. House sighs and stares at the board again, twirling his marker. Taub looks up from where he’s munching on his hospital-prepared sandwich from the cafeteria. She’s already finished her own salad, but Foreman is still working on his. They nabbed sandwiches for the other two, now sitting in the middle of the large glass table.

As expected, Thirteen grabs hers ravenously, having not eaten for hours. Chase, however, sits and doesn’t so much as look at the last wrapped up sub, instead grabbing the folder to look at once again. Foreman and Taub look at the Australian, confusion written on their faces.

“You’re not eating? You always eat. You eat more than me and Foreman combined,” the eldest of the four questions.

With a frown, Chase grabs the sandwich and opens it, not breaking eye contact with the neurologist. He takes a bite and swallows, keeping his face impassive.

“Better?”

“Loads,” the man deadpans, rolling his eyes.

Throughout the new round of ideas, Martha notices Chase hasn’t touched his sandwich since the initial bite. He’s procured a water bottle from his bag, sipping on it every few minutes, but the food goes untouched and unnoticed by everyone else. She thinks she sees House’s eyes sweep over the intensivist, but she might be imagining things- House may play favorites but the idea of him caring about someone to a degree of worry seems improbable.

Foreman gets up to throw his trash away, prompting Thirteen to as well. As they talk about even more possibilities for the patient, Chase angles his face towards his chest, ducking his face downwards.

“ihNGkKt! h’GXKt! h’KGkTSCH’uh! SNF!”

The first two are quiet enough that if Martha wasn’t paying attention she doesn’t think she would have necessarily heard them. The third however is stronger and Martha cringes inwardly at not only the amount of force he’s used to try and hold it in, but also at the soupy sounding sniffle after. He gets up immediately, striding across the room to the kitchenette and plucks a tissue from the box they have sitting there. She notices he doesn’t blow, merely just wipes at his nose before pocketing the tissue and washing his hands. At least he’s hygienic.

“Bless you,” Taub throws over his shoulder casually.

Martha watches as the blonde ignores him, moving to snatch the 90% uneaten sandwich up instead and set it in the mini fridge to finish later. The medical student has the urge to throw out yet another statistic about the act of sternation but is interrupted by all six of their pagers going off- saved by the bell.

The rest of the day is a haze of the patient crashing, adrenaline, House getting angry for not being able to figure out what’s wrong, and everyone else picking up his energy. House is the determining factor of a lot more than she’s realized, as Foreman snaps back at their boss when he starts telling them they’re all morons. He goes as far as to insult not only Chase, but Thirteen, which Martha hasn’t witnessed yet.

“House, we’re trying. We can’t think any faster,” the dark skinned man frowns.

“Oh yeah? I bet I could make you think faster if you want to keep your job!”

“You’re not going to fire any of us,” Chase drawls from where he’s sitting, having moved from the uncomfortable metal chairs at the table to the slightly less uncomfortable chairs in the corner of the room.

“Wanna bet? You of all people should know I can and I will,” the older man sneers, moving closer to the blonde.

Martha has an odd feeling in her stomach, something between anxiety, anticipation and most of all, surprise. Does House mean he’s fired Chase before? Surely not, not when they’re so obviously the most in-sync out of everyone. For a split second the intensivist looks like he’s going to stand up and go at it with their boss but instead he just shrugs and presses the tips of his fingers to closed eyelids.

“Exactly. Now think.”

Finally, Thirteen comes up with a semi-plausible idea, and though House makes it known he doesn’t truly believe it, they’re ordered to go in and check the man’s mitral valve. Doing something is better than nothing, Martha agrees.

“Chase, scrub up and take Taub and Ms. Goody-two-shoes with you.”

“Can’t we have Masters do-“

“Absolutely not. This isn’t time for a learning experience, this is time to cut open this guy and fix him so he lives. She helps, you do.”

A grumble of incomprehensible words are drowned out by Taub getting up out of his chair and patting her shoulder, leaning his head towards the door as a gesture to tell her to follow. She does, not wanting to deal with any more childish back and forth arguing. As they all head down the hallway, Masters looks at Taub for direction. She doesn’t understand why Chase is upset she’s not doing it- usually it’s the other way around.

As the three slip into the empty elevator, Chase uses the inside of his wrist to scrub at his nose, sniffling yet again. Normally Martha wouldn’t notice these things, but he was late, so now all her attention is solely on him. It’s definitely not because he’s gorgeous or funny or the only to even remotely build her up sometimes.

“So why don’t you wanna do the surgery?” Taub asks, turning to the taller man.

“Because it’s cold in the OR and I’m already freezing,” Chase grumps, pulling his lab coat tighter. “Scrubs can only keep you so warm.”

#my fic #paging doctor chase #softsicknose

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quincyhorst · 10 months

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RonLau.............................

I've already talked about Ladji and Émile, I'd also like to talk about other of my favorite RG duos: Ronnie and Laurent. So here's something from back in March.

This is pretty much a story of how they became at least a bit aware about each other, but hadn't met properly yet. Obviously pre-FFI.

Ronnie Weiss became a supermodel years ago, as winning a local beauty contest gained the attention of an agent who saw potential on him. When given a chance to escape a supposedly "boring" life in his rural hometown, he accepted the offer straight away. Modelling life isn't easy, but it was good enough for him. Better than "rotting on the countryside", he would say.

That day, Weiss was being transported to his next modelling job, a photo shoot for the well known magazine Cerise. Being a common reader in the past, he was quite excited yet also nervous about it. Something he wasn't proud of showing.

Suddenly, the car had to stop like the red light ordered; which led to Ronnie having some time to see the streets of Paris; and the so-called commoners's "uninteresting lives". Since his transport had stopped right in front of a cafe's terrace, he expected to see the typical customers. But... He saw something entirely different from what he was expecting.

In between the brown tables and the dim colored shop, a beautiful face was sitting calmly. Their skin was almost white like snow, standing out even if it was almost covered by their hair; blonde ash gray, both colors blending together. And even if it looked messy at first glance, it was elegantly tied with a notorious pink ribbon, accidentally making Ronnie believe he was looking at a girl. A mysterious "girl" who had such beautiful, cold blue eyes, showing a melancolic aura as she read a little book.

On the short time the red light stood on, Ronnie stared completely in awe, even begging his driver to pull down the car window as to get a better look. In the few seconds Ronnie was hit with the outside breeze, he tried any way to gain the girl's attention. But like if the god of luck had heard him, suddenly she looked away from her book, and noticed the sudden car window opening nearby. For an instant, she and Ronnie made eye contact, an angelic moment that made the raspberry boy's pale face red.

It didn't last for too long however, as the car continued its movement few seconds later.

As he was being forced apart from his new muse, Ronnie quickly returned to reality, remembering why he was inside a vehicle on the first place. Upon noticing an unusual frown coming from his model, the agent was quick to check on them.

"Sorry. I just saw the most beautiful girl ever! But, I'm not sure I'll see her again..."

"If she's that beautiful, there's a chance. Girls like that get scouted for the industry eventually." After a sudden pause, the man started to realize something. "Wait a minute, you saw her in a cafe terrace, right?"

"...Yes?"

"...And she had... White skin and almost blonde hair? With a pink ribbon?"

"Ye- Wait, you recognize her!?"

"...Well, haha... I think who you saw was actually Little Laurent. He's the son of one of Cerise's editors. Easy to mistake for a girl, isn't he?"

Ronnie took a breath trying to process all the sudden new information. That beauty was actually a boy... Well, not much of a surprise. If he himself had been born with a pretty face, who knows whose other boys could have been as lucky as him. In fact, he had already saw some around, but always as rivals on the modelling industry. He could easily do the same with Laurent, specially knowing his connections, but...

"No, he isn't a model at all." His agent clarified "Believe it or not, before finding you it was him who I wanted to represent. But he refused my offer, and I didn't felt like insisting. A shame, really. To this day, his mother tells me over how much of a beautiful model he could be."

...With no reason to consider Laurent yet another rival of his, Ronnie gave a sigh of relief. There was no way he even wanted to see him with any ounce of resentment! Although, it was weird to know he could have been on his place instead.

"If he's related to Cerise Magazine, well... Is there any way I could see him better in person?"

His agent chuckled upon the question, leaving the model confused.

"...Not sure, sorry. But it is told he likes to spend his free days on cafes, just like what you saw. Maybe if we catch a break, you could give him a surprise visit."

Ronnie's eyes lit up, making him give a smile of excitement.

"...But the agenda's tight, Weiss. There's so much you still have to do first."

As his smile fading again, soon Ronnie returned to observe the streets of Paris again; not wanting to encounter any other beautiful person like he had done recently.

The memories of his brief encounter with Laurent still clung on for the day, and they persisted on his memory. Deep down, he constantly wished to meet that stunning face up close, no matter if they were both boys. But as Ronnie's various jobs continued and the routine became stricter, soon it became less and less important to him...

And then the FFI happened, and Ronnie had his proper bisexual awakening (?????

#HC:Ina11 #Rose Griffon #Ronnie Weiss #Laurent Pérec #RonLau #I almost forgot I had this queued #The site almost glitched while trying to edit this help

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sunny6677 · 11 months

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My Little Spooky Month: Season 1.

(An MLP X Spooky Month Crossover Fanfiction)

(Disclaimer: Yes, I am aware that this could be considered cringe-worthy. But I personally do not care, for I like writing about my interests. And I like writing crossovers. If this type of stuff isn't for you, you can always scroll past.)

(Oh, other disclaimer by the way. This takes place after the first and second episode, counting the part 2 of the first episode, of MLP.)

Summary: A portal transports a few citizens of the town in Spooky Month into a land that would change their lives forever.

Chapter 4: An Odd Place To End Up In.

TWS: SLIGHT PROFANITY.

————

The two of them were still screaming, their hearts pounding in their chests. Jack flung up in sheer surprise, and as did John. Neither of them knew how on earth this had happened, or why John was a pony all of the sudden. But perhaps that wasn't the only thing John was in shock about, for a glint in his eye was shivering as leaves did in the harshest of winds that blew on a winter night. Wherever they were seemingly had not been going through the winter season though, for it was warm outside and the sun was shimmering upon the thousands of apple trees surrounding them.

Jack then finally screamed, at his somehow now pony-friend, "Why are you a pony?!"

"I don't know! Why are you a pony?!" John screamed back, furrowing his brows. Jack then widened his eyes, and gazed down, attempting to look at what would have been his hands. But alas, they were not his hands, for instead, he was greeted with hooves. Hooves that were deeply covered in black fur that was somehow lighter than his own hair. He looked down, and instead of his legs, he saw the hind legs of a horse which were of course covered in the same black hair. And emerging from his flank had seemingly been a short black tail which was the same color as his tail.

Jack let out another scream.

John glanced around. He was a police officer. Yes, he had been contorted into a pony, and his partner had been too. But he couldn't just sit around screaming. He had to do something. Being turned into a pony wasn't the weirdest thing he had experienced in all of his years of being a sheriff at his town. John knew he was capable of solving or investigating things.

And so, that was what he would attempt to do.

"Alright, Jack, calm down. I don't know why we're ponies, but there's gotta be an explanation here." John tried to say, hiding his panic the best he could. Jack attempted to open his mouth to speak, but John interrupted him. "This ain't the weirdest thing we've seen, Jack. We just gotta find out where the hell we are, and how to get back to.. well, how we should be." John muttered, looking down at his hooves.

Jack paused for a moment, his breathing still rapid. But slowly, it began to slow a little, and he uttered, "Okay.. but, how do we—"

Before Jack could finish speaking, a sudden rustling in the trees began to sound.

Jack and John looked to the source of the sound. No trees were moving, so it must have not been anything big. But they could hear the sound of footsteps, perhaps from a creature. It sounded like thudding against the blades of grass, but not too loud. As if it were an actual person walking towards them.

Still, they kept close to eachother. John tried to scoot himself closer to Jack, incase he'd need to protect him. He nearly stumbled a few times though, his hind legs dragging along the grass behind him.

It was only now he realized that he no longer had a gun.

Though before he could panic about that, an orange figure stepped out of the trees rather quickly, panting. An orange pony, in fact. White freckles were on the sides of it cheeks, each in three little dots. It's eyes were a shade of green, with sparkling highlights that signaled its own sentience. It had blonde hair that was slightly tied into a short ponytail at the end, and it seemed to be wearing a southern hat. And on its flank, there was.. a symbol of three red apples?

Jack and John were quiet for a moment.

"What in tarnation is goin' on here?" It suddenly spoke, it's voice sounding southern and female.

John and Jack were still quiet.

And then, John spoke up, "...what in the hell are you?!"

Jack was gritting his teeth in slight fear, his eyes wide and his pupils shivering. The orange pony looked confused, tilting his head. "I—I'm—I'm a pony, just like y'all. I heard screamin', and I couldn't help but come and trot on over here." It answered, taking a few steps foward. "What in the sweet name of Celestia are y'all two doin' screamin' your heads off—"

John and Jack scooted closer to eachother, nearly ready to cling onto eachother out of fear for the others safety. They didn't even know if this thing was dangerous or not, and John's anxiety was somewhat more prevalent now that he didn't have a gun. And normally, he would have resorted to punching if he had to, but he didn't have hands. What was he to do? Hit it with his hoof? How would that work out?

"You stay back!" John screeched angrily. "I'm telling you now, if you know anything about how we ended up here—"

"I—I don't! I was just doin' chores by myself in Sweet Apple Acres since my family isn't here, and I was about ready to go ahead and buck some trees. And then somehow you two were loud enough for me to hear." The pony explained itself. Perhaps it was female, considering it sounded and somewhat looked as such.

"Doing.. chores?" Jack repeated, now more confused than scared. Why was a sentient horse doing chores?

"Yeah, I live on a farm. Sweet Apple Acres? I'm sure y'all have heard of it." The pony responded. Jack and John glanced at eachother, slightly backing away now. Somehow, they were slowly managing to calm down a little despite the weird situation they were in. Both of them were starting to wonder if a criminal drugged them or something. And then, they glanced back at the pony. "Uh.. no, we haven't." Jack replied.

"Oh.. uh.. are y'all new 'round here? Maybe that's why ya haven't." The pony said back, seeming a little confused itself.

"Uh.. kinda." John muttered. "We.. uh.. we kinda fell out of a portal? We don't really know why, it just.. appeared in our town and sucked everyone in." Jack tried to explain. Not a day in his life did he ever think he would have to say that of all things to a bright orange talking pony with a southern accent. Maybe he really was on drugs.

"A.. a portal? It just appeared in your town? You think somepony might've casted a spell or somethin' that went wrong?" The pony asked, seeming a little worry now. Jack and John were even more puzzled now, but both decided to take the mental note that these ponies could apparently cast spells. "Uh.. no, it just kinda appeared out of no where. And we don't know how we ended up like.. this—or why it led to here." John stated, looking down at his own body as if to gesture to his now pony form.

"Wait an apple-pickin' minute. Do y'all mean you weren't ponies before that dang portal appeared?" It said, widening it's eyes slightly as if to emphasize it was frightened. Had things like this happened all the time in whatever this place was?

Even so, Jack slowly said with an awkward smile, "..uhhh.. yes?"

"Hmmm.. well, I reckon this here situation has somethin' to do with magic. And I think I know just the pony who could help out with your problem." The pony said with a determined expression, putting a hoof under its chin. "I'll go on ahead and take ya there, but y'all might have to tell me your names first."

After a moment of hesitant silence, John stated, "Well.. I'm John, and that's my partner Jack. I'm a sheriff and he's a deputy."

"Well, it's certainly nice to meet'cha both, Jack and John! I don't think I've ever heard names like that though.. ya really must be somewhere else." The pony smiled, seeming more friendly this time. Then, it held out its hoof. Neither Jack or John knew what it was doing, but John held out his hoof as if to see what it would do next. Then, the pony somehow wrapped its hoof around John's, and began to shake it up and down. The both of them supposed this was its way of giving them a hand-shake.

"But.. I'm Applejack. Do y'all think you could make it there on hoof?" This Applejack pony had inquired, seemingly a little worried.

"..mmm.. I dunno. Neither of us are used to walkin' on all fours, so.." John replied. "Hmm.. well, I'm not sure what y'all used to be before y'all became ponies somehow. But maybe until y'all can learn to walk like ponies do, I can just carry y'all there." Applejack offered with a smile.

John paused. "..are you sure? I don't think it's possible for you to carry us both there—"

Before he could even finish, he let out a noise of slight surprise. He suddenly found both himself and John being flung up into the air for a moment, before his stomach landed on something and kept him balancing. Somehow, Applejack had flipped them both onto her back, and was most likely gonna be carrying them this way.

"Uhh.. it might be a good idea if y'all hold on tight. This might not be a bit of a bumpy ride." Applejack warned.

John and Jack took that warning in mind. Despite having no fingers anymore, John slipped his hoofs onto Applejack's body, and wrapped his arms around them as if to try and cling onto her so he wouldn't fall. Jack did so as well.

And then, Applejack began to suddenly trot into the trees, heading for whoever she had been talking about seemingly. Jack and John did not scream, and yet, their faces were as shocked as can be. They were amazed, yet sort of terrified at the same time. It was hard to describe. Applejack was right.

This certainly was going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.

————

Streber didn't know where he was, or where the portal had taken him.

All he had known was that before he and Ethan could react while they were walking along the streets of their town, they were suddenly sucked into something bright and flashing. Something neither of them could see. And then, everything temporarily went black, before Streber felt himself thud onto a ground harshly. His body ached with pain, and if he still had his other arm, he'd be able to support himself up in a stable manner. But he only had one arm now, after what had happened on a Halloween night that he thought was going to be fun. After a night which was only a few weeks ago.

He grumbled, pain in his body. He squinted his eyes open, and made out what looked to be the features of a building. Or, the inside of a building. There were nearby mirrors, and mannequins of.. horses with dresses on them? Whoever lived here had an odd way of making clothes. Did they.. make clothes for horses? But why on earth would they do that?

Streber raised a brow, and grunted. He began to try and grab at the ground with the one arm he had left, to support himself upwards. Though something came to his attention. He couldn't. He couldn't because.. he couldn't feel his fingers, and seemingly, as much as he grabbed, he couldn't get up. It was then that he noticed something was different.

He then looked up, the masculine and familiar voice from behind him being muffled from his sheer confusion blinding him so. In the mirror, he saw not himself, but a pony. A lime green pony with his hairstyle, and a horn emerging from its head, with his dark eyes. And on what should have been one of its hoofs, there was no limb, but a short nub with a white bandage wrapped around it much like his own. He moved, only to see that the pony was synced with his movements.

He tried to raise his one arm, but then, the reflection of the pony in the mirror moved too. It moved its hoof in the same direction. His head was fuzzy with puzzled shock.

He then realized.. he was no longer human. He was that pony in the mirror.

Streber began to breathe heavier. "Wh—What the—"

He then finally heard the masculine and deep voice from behind him utter his name. "...Streber?"

//////////////////////

#spooky month #read the tws #streber spooky month #ethan spooky month #john spooky month #jack spooky month #applejack mlp #mlp #my little spooky month

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ariadnewhitlock · 9 months

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Invitations After Class || Jasper & Ariadne

TIMING: Before the end of the school year LOCATION: UMWR campus, Jasper's office PARTIES: Jasper @eatdearth and Ariadne @ariadnewhitlock SUMMARY: Ariadne and Jasper talk while she's leaving his class, and have coffee in his office. Wholesome bonding occurs, despite them both being awkward. Maybe they are friends now? CONTENT WARNING: none!

Jasper only had three minutes left before the bell rang but he was not even close to finishing his lecture. He had distracted himself by going on and on about the different kinds of rocks found in the mines, which weren’t really important to what he was supposed to teach. The recent ongoings, however, meant more talk about the place, so his brain couldn’t help but do just that.

Even seconds before the bell rang, Jasper could see some, if not most, of his students scramble to pack up and leave the room. Maybe they had other classes to go to. Or maybe they just didn’t want to spend another minute more with him and his boring anecdotes.

“Class, remember to stay safe out there! Don’t go sneaking into the mines during these strange times! That would be a terrible idea!” Jasper chuckled before shaking his head, his attention on the books on his table he had to clean up now. He should know. He and the mines have a very special relationship, after all.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d decided to take a geology course, other than the fact that, as far as the science requirement at UMWR went, it seemed like one of the better options for her. More hands-on, that much was certain. Ariadne liked the class well enough too, even if the professor was a bit odd.

She didn’t mind odd, though - she never really had, and at this point, odd was significantly better than evil or cruel. It always had been, but now that Ariadne had become more aware of the world, she had an entirely newfound appreciation for anything and everything that didn’t cause pain.

Ariadne took her time gathering her books and computer, waiting until nearly everyone else had left the class, before she approached her professor’s table at the front of the room. “I liked the lecture today,” she began, fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag. “I - I don’t want to appear rude, but for some people - the warning about the mines might only make them more interested in going.”

Jasper knew all his students by name. It was required. Well, not technically, but he required himself to know all his students by name. Every single one. They all knew his name. Well, most of them, and mostly because they needed to; otherwise, it would be more of an inconvenience for them to go looking around for a professor whose name they did not catch for clarifications or submissions to the same professor’s class or classes. So, it would have been rude for him to not know theirs.

Ariadne Whitlock was a strange case. She wasn’t a geology major, but she still took this course, this class. Students do that all the time, sure, but not when he was the professor assigned to the class. Most students preferred Nancy Go to him: She was a beautiful woman, and he was, well, Jasper was Jasper. But maybe Ariadne was just bored or maybe she just needed a change of pace. There were numerous reasons for her to have taken this class, most of which would be considered strange.

“Aria,” Jasper tried to use a nickname for her without her consent. Either she’d allow it or she’d correct him. Either way, he’d learn something new about this blonde student. “I don’t think that’s rude, and I very much appreciate your insightful input.” He offered her a smile as he took a moment from dumping his books in his bag. “Speaking of the mines, though, are you aware of any specific student that’s…interested in going?”

Geology was interesting. It didn’t always make sense to Ariadne, but she liked it all the same. If nothing else, it was one of the forms of science that felt more artistic (though her mother had said that all science was its own form of art), and she enjoyed it. Which was what mattered, anyhow, right? Even though enjoyable classes were still hard to make herself always do the work for, she was managing. Well enough, at least. Or at least that was what she told herself. Even if she was dead, she still wanted to pass her classes.

Straight As and Bs were unlikely, but that wasn’t something she was going to focus on. Nor was she going to focus too much on the fact that he’d used a nickname. Not that Ariadne had never had any professor do that, but it was usually the ones in her major-related classes, and even then it was rare. Still, she flashed him a small smile. “Oh - okay, good. I - thanks.” She looked down at her shoes. “I - well, I’m not sure, a lot of them talk about it, but people talk about stuff in this town all the time and a lot of it doesn’t ever happen - why?” She bit her lip. “If I can ask?”

Jasper’s eyebrow was raised without his consent. Jasper was a lonely man. He was very lonely, so very lonely. So, when he caught a glimpse of that lip bite, he immediately thought of a very bad thing. Well, it wasn’t that bad, per se. He just thought it was bad enough. The fact was, he thought it was cute, that was all, really, but perhaps, it was that very thought that his eyebrow tried to distance itself from.

To be fair, however, Jasper had never had such a relationship with his students. He would never. Or more precisely, THEY would never. He’s tried before, establishing a less formal friendship with a few of them outside class hours. He’s never stepped over the line, never would, considering this was the only thing he has in his life, only tried befriending some of the students. Even invited them to a “rager” at his place. Terrible idea. Jasper has never been to a “rager” before, so he thought it was just one of those parties with charades and movies. When he realized what they actually were, he felt relieved no one came. Not even his teaching assistant.

“I see, I see,” Jasper feigned a dignified cough as he finished chucking his books in his bag. He even added an obvious look at his watch, implying he could be busy, even though he wasn’t. Outside of the paperwork, there was nothing else for Jasper. Maybe the mines, his obsession with finding his lost childhood friend, but that was it. A life mostly wasted. “Well, of course, you can ask, and as I said, sneaking into the mines is a very, very bad idea, so if you hear about anyone doing just that, and if they invite you, do tell me, won’t you, Aria?” He then began to walk out of the classroom, assuming already that she would do the same.

Even though she’d always been a good student (or at least relatively good - the drive to be as perfect as possible didn’t stop even when she was struggling), she’d never really been a teacher’s favorite. At least not as far as she was aware. So for Professor Langston to be asking more of her made Ariadne feel nice. There was something about the professors at this school - a surprising number of them looked almost as though they could have been models, or some such thing.

Which she knew was probably not what she should be thinking about when she thought about her professors, but her mind had a tendency to wander at times, and she figured that those were positive thoughts, and having them, acknowledging them wasn’t bad. She didn’t let it change her mind about their work, so Ariadne decided that focusing on any of that wasn’t going to do her any good, and focusing on the present moment was what was best.

“Yes, of course.” There it was. The nickname, again. At least he knew her name, Ariadne figured that was a pretty big win. She followed him out of the classroom. “I - I don’t like doing bad things.” She wondered if Chance was going to try to sneak into the mines. She would ask, but if he wasn’t planning to, that would only put the idea in his mind and she didn’t like that much at all. “I’ll tell you, yeah. Just - like, anonymously. I don’t want people to think I’m a tattle-tale.” Also the likelihood of her being invited was slim. Not none, she tried not to think like that, but still. Very, very slim. “Is that okay?”

Jasper unintentionally raised an eyebrow when the blonde student mentioned doing bad things, which initially felt to him quite unprompted. Fortunately, however, after a second more, he realized she was probably just talking about sneaking into the mines as the bad thing she didn’t like doing. He heaved a sigh of relief in his mind that he desperately needed to get out of the gutter. “Of course,” he shook his head, gesturing that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t like before following it up with a supportive nod. “That’s very okay.”

It was actually more than he expected of her, of anyone in his class. Usually, most kids would just ignore him. Fewer would even give him the time of day, so this one was heaven sent. She was fast becoming his favorite student “Here,” Jasper fished out one of his many unused business cards, a boring design with just his name, phone number, and unnecessary address on it. “Give me a call when you need to. On this matter and on anything else. I’ve always got time for my students.”

“Now, how are your studies, by the way?” Jasper gave her a grin as he caught sight of a gaggle of kids accidentally looking their way. Ha. Now there was proof he wasn’t all that bad. A professor talking to his student in school. He wasn’t a weirdo. He was just doing his job. That was a win for him, a very sad win but one he would take. “Finding anything difficult?”

“Really? Okay, good.” She wanted to continue saying that she very much doubted she was the sort of person to ask for help regarding - well, anything - but especially things that involved people talking to you and telling you secrets. Still, if he believed in her, that was something that she could work with. Something Ariadne wouldn’t want to admit how much she needed.

“Oh.” She couldn’t help but blink a few times, in stunned silence as she accepted the card. Offering him another smile, Ariadne nodded. “I will. Call you, I mean.” Thankfully, she held herself back from saying yeah, I don’t really have many people to talk to, so… because calling your professor because you felt lonely was not a step she was willing to take. Yet, at least. Ideally never, with Wynne and her other new Friend - not that Professor Langston would be bad to talk to, but she figured that it was still not the best of options. “Thanks for that.” She tucked the card carefully into her jacket pocket.

She offered him a cautious grin back, eyes flitting to the students who watched them as they walked by. “They’re going well.” A beat. “Mostly.” Ariadne wasn’t ready to get into her newfound tendency to forget about assignments. “Sometimes, yeah - but that’s to be expected, right? I’ll be a senior next year, so things shouldn’t be too easy.” No matter how much she wished they could be. “You won’t rat me out if I say I am looking forward to a break from schoolwork over the summer, will you?”

“Of course not!” Jasper let out a chuckle at that question. “I mean, I’m also looking forward to a break,” except he wasn’t. “All this professor-ing isn’t easy as well.” That part was at least true. Yet Jasper would rather struggle with his lesson plans than spend the summer break all alone in his late uncle’s manor. It was a lonely life, only made bearable by rocks and stones and the classes he had about the rocks and the stones. And the mines. Maybe he could make the summer break better by spending more time venturing into the mines, ironically what he keeps warning people, including his students, against.

“But I digress,” Jasper led Ariadne to his office, his hand on his door knob. He wanted to invite her in but of course she wouldn’t accept it. No student of his ever does. Why prolong the suffering, making small talk with your professor after the same professor’s boring class, but joining him in his office? Still, Jasper made the polite gesture, just in case she wanted to continue the conversation…and risk her reputation with her fellow students and their scathing rumors. “Senior year will be much more difficult, so don’t hesitate to approach me or any of your other professors for help. We’re always here for our students.”

“I guess that makes sense. I hope you get to do something nice and fun this summer. I figure when you work as hard as you do, you deserve that.” Ariadne was grateful that she had plans with Wynne. Maybe she could convince Chance to hang out in a non-dangerous fashion. It was a high hope, and he might just go home for part of the summer anyhow, but it was still worth hoping for. It had to be.

They’d arrived at his office, and Ariadne wasn’t sure that was was quite entirely ready to stop talking. So when his hands gestured toward the door she nodded. “Only if it’s okay with you.” He was nice, and having someone to just talk to was nice. Someone who didn’t really know her. Someone who so clearly wished to help, just like her professor did. “I might - if you’re sure that’s okay, even though my areas of study aren’t what you cover.” Are you sure? You don’t have to take that on, you don’t have to offer that. “It might be nice to know I’ve got somebody to reach out to.”

“Oh,” Jasper’s face brightened up, even more so, when his student said something nice about him, for him. Was that the first time a student wished him well, someone else wished him well? Definitely the first time he’s heard someone wish him well inside the university and even acknowledge all his hard work. He couldn’t stop beaming. “Thank you, Aria. That’s so nice of you! I hope the same for you and your friends.”

“You guys can even come to my place if you’d like.” That last part was definitely weird for a professor to say to his student, but Jasper was too sad and lonely to realize that. Later, however, he’d be figuratively smashing his head on the wall when he finally realized the words that came out of his mouth were less than appropriate. For now, however, he just made room for Ariadne to enter his office. “Oh, it’s always okay with me. I love hanging out with my students!”

Jasper caught sight of another pair of students passing by who saw him and smirked to themselves, chuckling under their breaths as they walked on by. He thought they were also happy to see him, so he gave them a wide, goofy smile. He would later realize he had thought wrong.

“Oh, thank you.” It was nice to have that sort of positive wish, even if it was from a professor, who was probably obligated to say things like that. Still, it was nice, and Ariadne let herself relax just the smallest bit more. Which meant that she probably shouldn’t say ‘oh yeah, I don’t really have many friends’ because that was just going to open up a whole new route of conversation that she didn’t want to venture down.

“I - oh.” She hid her surprise as best as she could. “That’s very nice of you to offer, but I - we - wouldn’t want to impose or anything.” She ducked into his office, not paying any attention to the other students walking by. In part, because Ariadne hardly noticed them, and in part because she wasn’t sure she wanted to look at them, right now.

Ariadne sat down in the chair in his office, gaze flicking all around the room. She wrapped one leg around the other and offered him another smile. “I - if you’re a geologist, does that mean you get to travel for work ever? I’d figure maybe you would, just ‘cause there’s lots of rocks in the world.” If she could have blushed, she would have. “Sorry, that’s reducing your job to make it sound - I - I just meant, there’s a lot of stuff in the world, and I hope you get to explore that.”

“No imposition at all,” Jasper gave her a smile as he followed her inside his office. He carefully dropped his stuff on his table and then proceeded to head to his coffee machine, plugging it in to heat a relatively fresh batch. “Coffee?” The geology professor took a moment to turn to the student, offering her a cup for herself.

It has been a long day, and while it was already over for his teaching schedule, Jasper usually waited until everyone else in his department left before he’d go home. There was nothing else, no one else, waiting for him in that manor anyway. Well, except for Val, his uncle’s dog, but he had someone to look after and feed the snobby little cretin while he was gone.

“Used to, but now I just teach more than I travel for work,” Jasper explained with a polite smile as he turned his attention back to her while he waited for the coffee to be ready, leaning on that counter with his arms crossed. “I sort of prefer this set-up than traveling, to be honest,” he didn’t, not really, but it was all he had now. “More stable, more comfortable, less hectic… You plan on traveling a lot after…all this?”

“Sure, coffee’s good. Could I have it with sugar?” Ariadne didn’t prefer coffee, but it was still good, and more than welcome as something to do with her hands. Just fiddling around didn’t seem like the best sort of idea, even in the usual circumstances, let alone when she was trying to make some sort of good impression on a professor. Because even if she never took another class with him again, the last thing she wanted was to come off poorly to him.

“That’s nice - but -” she cut herself off, unfortunately finding herself fiddling with her hands while he prepared the coffee. At least it wouldn’t last much beyond whenever she got the mug of coffee, or so Ariadne hoped. “That makes sense, I know I prefer sticking local,” which was far more true as of this past year than it had been before, but he didn’t need to know that detail.

“I might.” I’ll have to, eventually, “I never got to go and study abroad in Europe, so I think I’d like that.” Ariadne offered him another smile, “but if you have any recommendations of must-see places, I’d be more than happy to hear them.”

Jasper simply nodded with a smile. He had the sugar ready already. Outside of the ancient members of the faculty, he wasn’t sure who else in their right mind would have coffee without sugar during class hours, especially when the day was already on its last leg. Maybe those guys over at the Chemistry Department, but those guys are hella weird. “Local? Hmm, yes, that’s fair.”

The geology professor carefully took both cups, his and his student’s, once the coffee was done and ready, offering Ariadne hers while making sure to emphasize how hot it was and for her to be careful not to burn her fingers or tongue with basic gestures. Once she held her cup in her hands, then and only then did he take his seat opposite hers. Not behind his desk as he usually did but on the other chair that paired the one Ariadne sat on. For a more comfortable conversation. At least in his head, that was what he envisioned, again forgetting how professors always have an innate advantage in the power dynamics against a student. In his defense, however, Jasper has never been acquainted with such notions like power and confidence.

“Europe,” Jasper took a moment to blow on his coffee. As if his tongue was delicate and fragile. If it held some sort of importance to him. Even though he’s dipped it in hotter and weirder things more times than he could count or care to remember. What were those weird egg things in China and the Philippines again? Blech. Those weren’t his style. “It’s a good place to study, especially in Switzerland or maybe even the Netherlands.” Heck, England was good enough for geology. “You’ve got family over there? Japan’s not that bad either. I went there for some seminars. Pretty great.”

“Though that could just be an effect of having grown up here and never lived anywhere else,” a shrug, “so I’m biased, big time.” Except she wasn’t sure just how biased in favor she was of the town right now. Ariadne nodded as she accepted the cup of coffee, the warmth welcome, though she blew on it just slightly in order to attempt to cool it. There was the slightest hint of confusion as he sat down next to her, but that quickly turned into a smile, if no other reason that to assure him that she was at ease. Which she was, at least for the most part.

“I’ll have to look into those places too.” Another smile. “I - well, my mom’s parents moved from France, but my dad’s family’s been in the States, even like, this town, for centuries, so I don’t think I’ve got family over there, no. Japan? I’ve seen photos and it’s beautiful. So’s their art.” Ariadne took another sip of her coffee. Well, if I become a professional ballet dancer or something like that, maybe I’ll get an excuse to tour to lots of different countries.”

“You’ve never been anywhere else?” Jasper parroted the information. It was a little unnecessary, considering he’s had other students that were the same. Not everyone gets to travel somewhere else, especially at that age. Those who do don’t even do it because they can, usually more that they had to. Realizing that, he heaved a sigh, trying his best to mask his pity with a warm smile. When he realized he sucked at that, he tried to cover his face with his cup of coffee, taking a quick sip of his drink.

Jasper himself didn’t get to travel that much on his own accord either. His late uncle had to be, in a word, incapacitated to allow him to travel and that was only because, and through, his studies, too. The seminars on the other side of the world. The required field work in parts of Asia and Europe. When he came back, he found himself shackled to the town again, though there were still few opportunities to travel for work and study elsewhere. He could sympathize with Ariadne. “Well, I’ll see if I get any travel scheduled to France and Japan, and maybe I can take you with me?”

At that last part, his curiosity was piqued. Jasper crossed his legs and lowered his coffee cup, eyes glued to the young woman in front of him. “Ballet? You do ballet?”

“I mean, I’ve traveled a little bit, but uh - yeah, never really lived anywhere else.” Because her parents both had jobs that required them to be in town, and because living anywhere else just never seemed logical. Not at all, really. Still, they’d traveled somewhat. She didn’t regret the childhood she had one bit, because she knew that she had pretty incredible parents, but of course, the idea of having been a well-traveled child was a tempting one. Ariadne took another sip of her drink. “It’s fine, though - I’m not - I don’t - you don’t have to feel bad, if you were feeling bad.”

She sighed, thoughts drifting away for a few moments before she startled herself back to the present. “I - you’d do that?” Ariadne didn’t think to question the fact that it probably wouldn’t be feasible, but for the moment, she could enjoy living in the fantasy where she could easily travel anywhere she wanted. “Thank you - that’s - yeah, if my parents said it was okay, yeah, I’d like that a lot.” She grinned.

“Mhm, since I could walk, basically. I like other dance too - I love contemporary, but ballet’s where it all began, yeah.” Ariadne fiddled with her nail beds. “Do you like ballet?”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Jasper tried to make the young girl feel a little bit better about her situation, realizing that his words may have made her feel a bit insecure about things. It wasn’t like everyone got to travel the world every other month. Some things were more important than sightseeing. Like paying the bills or making sure your kids had plenty to eat. Besides paying the bills, Jasper didn’t really relate to relationships, familial or not, binding him to a place, to a responsibility. He’d very much want that but it seems to be forever out of his grasp. Probably the mines’ fault. “You’re still young. You’ve got plenty of time to change that.”

“And, sure, why not?” Jasper took a sip of his cup as well and then gave her a warm smile. “If your parents would allow for it, then you can join me and Ms. Jung. Between you and me, she needs friends her age in this school. Hopefully you two will get along. I see no reason why you won’t.”

It was hard for Jasper to take on a protege like Yvonne Jung, even harder that she was the only daughter of his mentor, the guy who helped him get where he was, and hardest that Professor Jung seemed to be forcing this field on his daughter when she clearly enjoyed something else more. But it wasn’t his place. The least he could was make things more tolerable for her, for anyone really, for his students. They were all that he had at the moment.

“Oh, really? I’d love to watch you sometimes,” Jasper nodded before realizing that must have sounded weird without the proper context. “...dance. I mean, watch you dance. I don’t know a lot of people who do ballet, but I’ve always thought it’s a pretty interesting dance. Very cultured and elegant, I think.”

More time than you know, she wanted to say. Except, of course, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t, either. Ariadne knew enough to follow that rule, even if it wasn’t one that she’d been told about hundreds of times, or even dozens. Maybe a dozen, given or take a little bit - but regardless, she knew that admitting she’d live an abnormally long amount of time was not the smartest idea. “I hope so.” She offered him a reassuring smile, unsure of if it was more for her or for him, but either way, someone in this room had to need comforting, and that was that.

“I can ask them,” though Ariadne wasn’t sure exactly how she’d phrase that, but that was a worry for another time, and strangely, the prospect of having something different to worry about was a weirdly welcome one. “I’ll get along with her, I’m sure.” There were very few people that she’d found it difficult to get along with, and so there was no reason for this to be any different. Especially if they were nice, but even if not, she knew she’d find a way.

“I - oh, yeah, of course. I can send you the dates of performances for next school year, once I know them?” Professors came to the performances all the time, and maybe he just wasn’t aware of the performing arts calendar. “It’s also fairly rigid, but I actually don’t mind that - I like the structure it provides.” Ariadne shrugged. “I’d be happy to have you come, even if I don’t exactly love an audience, always.”

Jasper grinned, nodding his head. The thought of finally having someone else go with him and his teaching assistant made him feel…great, as if a giant weight was lifted off of his shoulders, even though no one gave him that burden, especially not Yvonne who’d clearly rather not get too involved in the field she had no feelings for. But, hey! Maybe Aria would change her mind. Maybe they’d all end up happy together as geologists and friends. Friends? They’re too young to be…friends with me. That would be weirder than me not having friends at all.

Feigning a cough, Jasper tried to shoo those negative thoughts away. Of course, professors and their students can be friends. Maybe not the kind of friends students are with each other. Maybe not the kind of friends that hang out after classes, during holidays. Maybe more like associates than anything, really, for fear of tampering with the status quo, subconsciously growing bias toward specific students and that kind of thing. But friends nonetheless. Yeah, that’s never going to work.

“That would be lovely, Aria,” Jasper had never tried to go over the performing arts calendar after that one time he tried to ask one of the professors in that department out and she bluntly rejected him. Terrible trauma aside, it’s been a few months already, so it should be fine for him to take a gander at some ballet events, right? Maybe they’d even forgotten about him already. “So I’ve heard,” he nodded again, this time more pensively. “I’ve seen movies about ballet and ballet dancers, but it’d be nice to see an actual performance up close. I’d be very happy to come and watch you…dance, I mean.”

“You’re not a fan of having an audience?” Jasper wondered if she was one of those shy dancers in those movies about ballet and ballet dancers.

“I’ll make sure to get you the calendar then, once the new school year starts back up.” Ariadne hoped that he wouldn’t regret having asked her to do that. “Uh, if you ever - if you want to not go, or stuff comes up, don’t worry.” She didn’t want him to feel obligated to go. Especially since what else exactly was he going to do when she was in the room with him? Tell her dancing was stupid and that he didn’t care about it?

“Movies can be good, but like most things - geology included - I think it’s best seen in person. So it’s not all Hollywood glamorized or what have you.” She was talking more than she wanted to, and so she looked down into her now nearly-empty coffee cup. “So I hope it’ll live up to your expectations.” That I will, Ariadne added silently, to herself.

“Not always, but I guess dance is like, the one time I am good with it.” She forced a bright smile on her face. “I just don’t always love attention, but dance is one of my favorite things, so it’ll be good. Promise.”

Jasper simply smiled at Ariadne’s promise. He could probably get that calendar himself, but her getting it for him? That sounded much easier. At least he wouldn’t have to go back there, embarrass himself again. She was a life saver. Hopefully, he could do the same for her. Somehow. Some way. “Oh, don’t worry! I’ll definitely be there. Wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.”

“I know it will,” Jasper took another sip of his cup, eyes never leaving her face, but then realized there was nothing left, not even a single drop. He raised an eyebrow, took a look at the inside of his cup to confirm, and was pretty much disappointed with what he saw. Maybe he should get another cup?

Or maybe he should let Ariadne go. It was probably the longest conversation with a student he’s had since recent memory, with a student that wasn’t being forced to be in the same room with him, so Jasper was a little saddened that it was close to being over. “I hope it won’t be weird, me coming to watch you dance?” Why would it? Because he’d only go to see her? Jasper didn’t realize it right then and there, and maybe he wouldn’t for quite some time, but she was the only reason he’d actually make the first step to see a ballet performance live for the very first time.

“Good, then I’m looking forward to it. That – it means a lot that you want to do this, especially since I’m not even a long-term student of yours.” But that didn’t have to matter, did it? She supposed that it didn’t really, in the grand scheme of things. So Ariadne pushed those thoughts away, once again, not wanting to make some sort of truly not-so-good mistake even though it very much seemed like Jasper – was it okay to call your professor that? – didn’t think she was even remotely close to making some sort of mistake.

“No, you’re good. The dances are usually open to the whole campus, and I’d be happy to have you come. Promise.” She set her now-empty cup down. “Though I should probably be going, and I wouldn’t want to keep taking up too much of your time! Thanks a whole bunch again for talking, I’ll be sure to stop by again sometime soon.” Ariadne picked at her nails for a moment. “I hope the rest of your day is good, Jasper.”

“Well, what can I say?” Jasper wasn’t just asking her. Rhetorically or not. He was also asking himself. Well, he was asking himself mostly. What could he say? That wouldn’t get him in any trouble through wrong impressions. Was being friends with his students really that bad? Maybe of the second opposite sex? Maybe because he wasn’t that old? Nah, it would be worse if he was much older. What even was he getting at? “You did catch my eye.”

They are?! Jasper frowned at that, though he quickly tried to sweep that look of disappointment and semi-betrayal under a figurative rug. To be fair, no one betrayed him. No one even told him to steer clear of the dances, of the theater, of the entire arts department. That was all on him. That was all him. He rose to escort her out his door with a smile, leaving his own cup on a nearby table.

“Any time, Aria,” Jasper lingered on her face for a moment that was a bit longer than he’d liked, especially when she called him by his first name. Was that all right? It felt good, didn’t it? It was all right in his book. No one else needed to know. No one would even care to know. She reminded him, right then and there, of his lost childhood friend, Faith. “Thank you… Yours, too. Study well, work hard, and break that leg!” And now it felt unnecessarily worse.

“Thanks. Guess I’m just not too used to that.” Not that people never paid attention to her, but she wasn’t used to catching people’s eyes. Which she was fine with, too much attention had never been something she was fond of nor something she was comfortable with. Ariadne offered Jasper a smile, though. “Just, uh, even if you think I’m neat, please don’t grade based on that. I want to earn whatever my semester’s grade is. Not that I think you would, but I just feel like, morally, I need to make sure. If that makes sense?” Another case where she was grateful that she couldn’t physically blush, because she was making enough of a fool of herself that she’d absolutely be blushing if she could.

She looked over to him with wide eyes, wondering what he was thinking - which, in turn, led to its own hunger pain piercing through her stomach. But no, she wasn’t going to do that, wasn’t going to overly focus on that. Instead, staring at him with wide, nearly sad eyes would have to suffice. “I’ll work hard, promise. I - thanks.” Ariadne bit her tongue. Even if that wasn’t technically the word for dance, she still could appreciate the sentiment, and it wasn’t like she could get extremely hurt again, anyhow. “And just let me know about that trip, if you ever want to. I’ll see you around!”

#wickedswriting #c jasper #chatzy #writing #invitations after class #// i love joe. i love jasper. thank u so much for this!!!#v excited to explore this dynamic more in the future 🥺

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ottos-funny-bunny · 2 years

Text

Infect me with your loving

Chapter 9

Warnings: Mentions of depression/anxiety, violence, mentions of violence, eventual smut.

Summary: Ongoing fic between an OC and Doc Ock

Fandom: Spider-Man, Marvel, Riami-verse

Authors Notes: Hey squirrel friends. I’m super sorry I haven’t posted in a long time. Been going through it lately and haven’t felt the want to post anything. But I have a story to tell. I hope y’all enjoy. 💗

Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it’s true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn’t fade and the scars don’t heal, and it’s too damned late. — Johnathan Tropper

"Little Bird, wait!" The gruff tone that Otto had previously used had completely disappeared. The blonde had promptly turned her back on him and was marching in the opposite direction, back towards her home. "Nope. No thank you. Not interested. Return to sender." Dys grumbled, her converse spitting up gravel in protest. "Dylesia." Otto huffed, as a mechanical claw made its way around her waist, stopping her in her tracks and from running away from him. For someone much smaller than him, she could move quick. The mechanical arm moved her and him into the alley by her apartment complex, where they could have the most privacy from wandering eyes, or at least as much privacy as New York City would allow. Her back pressed against the cool brick of the building, Otto creating a barricade with his body, without causing too much distress and leaving a comfortable distance between himself and Dylesia.

"Little bird.." He began, searching her eyes for an answer. "Absolutely not, you've lost the right to call me that." She spat at him in disgust, her gaze narrowing towards him. She was grateful for Otto for being the douche police, but she still had growing animosity towards him for his behavior. Cat and mouse was never a game that Dylesia was ever interested in, and she let him know that from the beginning. "I understand, just please. Listen to me. You wanted answers, how am I supposed to do that if you're always running away from me?" Flo, the more motherly of the claws clacked in annoyance, exactly as a mother who's scolded you too many times for your behavior would. Sometimes, the appendages were better at displaying his emotions than he was. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, while Dylesia huffed, also in annoyance at the situation. A gloved hand reached up and gently pressed his index finger into the side of her cheek, bringing her attention back to him. "Fine. I'll listen." She snapped, feeling very small and very childish under his gaze. Otto lifted up his sunglasses and placed them on top of his unruly hair, his dark gaze starring intently into her much more milder green one. "Dylesia... Darling..." Otto felt as though he were treading on thin ice, and Dys knew for a fact he was on VERY thin ice.

"I'm scared." Otto began, deciding that if this was it, if she was the one, there was no reason for him not to bare his soul to her. "I saw you, laying there crumpled at my feet, and all I could think about was Rosie, crumpled on the floor of my lab, and home that I shared with her." Dylesia perked at the name, remembering him telling her stories of his dearly beloved wife that had passed away tragically in the accident that made Otto into who and what he was today. "I just can't, I cannot watch my issues, my problems interfere with another person's life. Dylesia you remind me so much of her, you're not exactly the same of course... But in another world, you and Rosie would have been the best of friends." He sighed and searched her eyes for any source of emotion behind those pools of green, for an answer for a plea bargain. "I was so scared, that I was going to loose someone I love twice." Love? Did he just say love? Her eyes widened, not entirely sure he was aware of what he just said. "I thought if I broke your heart, you would stay away, and you wouldn't want me anymore. But you did. And damn it, I want you. I tried distracting myself with idiotic loose women, that don't even hold a candle to you. I didn't want a bimbo, I wanted you. I wanted your grace, and beauty and charm. I wanted your mind, your wittiness, your incredible talents in all the arts. I think I've always wanted someone like you, so different yet so alike to me, and I never knew until I ran into you."

Dys had begun to cry again, and Otto stiffened thinking that maybe he had pushed too far, and caused her to be in distress, the claw around her slowly pulled away from her, as he planned to make his retreat. "Oh, Otto..." Dys sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand, smearing what little makeup she wore anymore off. "I want you too, you idiot." The mumbled, her arms reaching out to wrap themselves around his body and holding onto him with all of her might. "I don't mean to cry... I'm just overwhelmed and confused. I thought you hated me, I thought you were just like everyone else." Otto softened, and rubbed his large hand on her back in soft circles. She could make him melt in her palms, like butter as soon as she wrapped her arms around him. "Please don't leave.." She spoke into his chest, listening to the constant beat of his heart.

He gently reached down and tilted her head up towards his, leaning down and pressing his forehead to hers. "Dylesia LaFosse, please forgive me. You can take your time, I'm not expecting an answer overnight. And I know it's going to take time, I really hurt you and I recognize that. But I want you to know how deeply sorry I am, that I hurt you, and that you had to go through so much from me. I never wanted that to happen." She starred into his eyes, and reached up, running her fingers through the mess of curls, leaning up and doing something she had longed to do since the last time. Before Otto knew what was happening, he felt the sweet tenderness of her lips on his again. A breath that he had been holding for far to long, he finally released, leaning into her kiss, and closing the gap between their two body's and the bricks. All too soon, she pulled back, enticing a small grunt from Otto. "Don't be greedy." She laughed, playfully pushing on his chest. "You're still in the dog house. Otto, I'd be willing to let you break my heart again. You're someone that I've always needed and never knew I did. The dates, the nonsense. Nelly wanted me out of the house, and I just couldn't bring myself to. I wanted to spend my time with you, and you alone. I wanted to live my life only with you."

"Does the kiss mean I'm forgiven?" Otto asked, pulling her back to him, holding her body tight against his. God she was perfect. "Of most of your sins yes." She smiled up at him. "But, we need to take time... We need to learn about each other. We need to spend quality time together, enjoying the simple things. Open up to one another, do things with each other we haven't done with others." Otto hummed in agreement, leaning down and covering her lips with his again, his fingers curling in her blonde tresses. "You have yourself a deal, little bird. I'll stay with you, if you'll allow me." He spoke against her mouth. Dylesia could feel her resolve melt away when he spoke to her, she had never been kissed in the way Otto Octavius kissed her. "Yes, please." She breathed out. Otto smirked and pressed another warm kiss to her lips, his hands placing themselves firmly on her hips, before lifting her up in his arms. "Then, allow me to carry you home, darling."

Dylesia threw her head back in laughter at his ridiculousness, which Otto throughly enjoyed witnessing. A playful smirk played on the corners of his mouth as he carried her up the bricks onto her balcony, where he spent many nights watching over her in the secret of night. A mechanical claw pushed open the awaiting glass doors, gently setting her down. "You know, you usually don't carry someone across the thresh-hold until you marry them." Dylesia teased, leaning down to pet Lazarus, who had came to greet them immediately. Otto made his way into her home, gently setting the book he bought her on her bookshelf, and setting the flowers on her counter tops, Nothing had changed in her home, her perfectionism must have gotten the better of her, besides the occasional takeout boxes in her garbage and one on her counter. She hadn't been taking very good care of herself, and Otto felt a pang of guilt. Dylesia watched him curiously, as he made himself comfortable with her home again. Otto caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, walking into her home office to see a very familiar face starring back at him. On a canvas, stood a picture perfect portrait of himself. "Oh... You weren't supposed to see that." Dys admitted, embarrassed. "You painted me?" Otto couldn't believe his eyes, he never had someone paint him before. She had gotten every detail of him down to an art. "If I couldn't see you in person, I at least wanted something to remember you by, in case you weren't going to come back." Dys shrunk into herself quietly, disgusted with her self loathing pity party she was throwing for just herself.

Otto took off his gloves and laid them on her desk, gently running his fingers over the painting, inspecting every detail she had put in. His bird had worked very hard, he couldn't imagine the endless nights she had put into her work. Otto turned and reached his hand out to her, pulling her close to his side, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You won't have to worry about that anymore, love... You're mine forever." Otto's eyes darkened at the mention of her being his, before he leaned down and pressed a needy kiss to her lips, his want and love for her was overflowing and if he had anything to do with it, and he would, she would be his completely sometime soon. "I love it." Dylesia had to snap back to reality after his kiss, and looked at him confused. "Really?" "Why wouldn't I?" Dys huffed and shrugged her shoulders. "I thought you would find it creepy, and weird. Like a shrine." 'Well I don't see a voodoo doll of me yet, or a collection of my hair. So I think we've passed that point." Dys snorted and moved back into her living room, Otto following close behind. "Did you really miss me that much?" He asked carefully, eyeing her down curiously. "Otto I missed you like my lungs would miss air. When you left it felt like all of my oxygen had been sucked out of my atmosphere and I was gasping for anything. I need to create when I'm sad, or mad, or happy... It's the curse of a creator. I knew I missed you, so you became the art." The sighed and sat on the couch, Otto sitting close by her, his ungloved fingers playing with a strand of her hair. "I was going to put it in my show, and hoped that you would come by some miraculous reason and find me again. Little did I know, you'd be in the coffee shop at the same time as me. I didn't date to get back at you, I just wanted Nelly off of my back. I couldn't take the nagging anymore." Otto laughed and leaned forward, pressing kisses along her temple and head, soaking up every last ray of sunshine she exuded. "Dylesia, I think I'm in love with you." Otto spoke softly, watching carefully for her reaction. Dylesia turned towards him on the couch, taking his hand in hers and tracing careful patterns on his palm. "I know I'm in love with you Otto, stay with me." Otto leaned forward and wrapped her up in his arms once more, a habit he was getting very used to. "Wherever you go, I will follow you."

#Spotify #otto octavius #docockxdylesia #spiderman fandom #infectmewithyourloving #ramiverse #docock/oc #fanfiction #ao3fic #doctor otto octavious

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x-violentdelights · 5 months

Text

( @xbeautifulmonsters3 )

Corners of her lips tilted upwards ever so slightly. “Of course you are,” she spoke, not a hint of sarcasm in her tone as she turned and looked between him and the smoky grey crystal in her hand, seemingly satisfied by the match, “Excellent.” She had no doubts in him and his power, his control. And that pride in him was communicated as the crystal was tucked away in one hand and the other came out to lightly touch his arm briefly, “You were brilliant.” Despite her initially unable to hide her smirk at his words - knowing that it was also very much in her character to keep a secret or two, she turned away from him when the name was spoke - nodding her head softly as her came up and a sliding door opened to their right - a man in a doorman’s uniform sitting peacefully on a chair, his eyes glazed over and white. “Only as much as Kensley deemed necessary, I’m sure,” there was a hint of annoyance in her tone as she came to stand before the man, “The truth about what happened.” Violet eyes started to brighten, her jaw tensing. The genocide of the banshees hit multiple personal chords with the witch. They were her friends and they were Maddox’s family. She had left Ivar over it, not just him but also their witches. Her witches… her family. And he wasn’t in control. If had she had been able to feel that influence, perhaps a lot could have been avoided. And she should’ve - that was what was causing some of her frustration to show. Niesa closed her eyes, letting out a small breath as she turned back to Maddox, gaze now returned to normal. “He didn’t tell me where she was,” she pointed out, “She is safe, yes?” Not that she doubted Kensley’s motives to protect his lost love but she trusted Maddox. “Oh,” she turned back to the doorman, “He was spouting off upstairs about how one those creepy Nygaards came to the building where he works, in what was once banshee territory, and dealt with some hysterical blonde that lived there.” There was a small shake of her head, what messy compulsion - Kensley must have been in quite the shock. “Soon that hysterical blonde will look a lot like Astrid to him,” she revealed, looking back to the necromancer with that satisfied smirk back on her lips, “And he dragged her away because she, in fact, does not live there and was just playing human again.”

Maddox Chase always seemed to have a lot going on, despite the fact that the necromancer liked being left alone, and would comfortably live the rest of his life speaking to three people for its entirety, and yet, here he was, the secret keeper of New York and a social butterfly. You wouldn't know any of this, perhaps the rare few that were close to him, even as Niesa complimented his abilities and actions on that night, he only nodded in appreciation, far too focused on other situations that were currently taking residence in the forefront of his mind and life, not to mention he did have a partner who had a lot at stake as well, should Ivar be aware of the secrets that were being kept. As the conversation turned to Aurora, a frown settled onto his brows, lowering in unison with his gaze, as what was happening was beyond is realm of knowledge. "Unsure." he stated honestly, arms now folding across broad chest. "She's alive and dead at the same time. In and out of form, barely with us for a few minutes at a time, though she's not a ghost." he clarified before the question was asked, looking to the elder to see if any of this made sense. As Niesa explained Kensley's actions, again he nodded, thankful that at least Aurora had him on her side, though Maddox wasn't entirely sure she was safe with Kensley. "I'm unsure what to do." his voice dipped quietly, revealing he wasn't overly comfortable with admitting such a fault as thoughts turned to Eddie as well, who was caught between worlds, just as Aurora was, with Maddox there trying to protect them both.

#chats x maddox & niesa #xbeautifulmonsters

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

Bakugou’s daughter brings home a Boyfriend

Bakugou x wife!reader

Ft. Bakugou’s daughter

Warnings: fluff, lowkey Crack, sexual mentions, small angst, cursing, Bakugou being such a dad

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: This is one of my favorite types of Bakugou. Domestic father Bakugou!! So bc of that fact, this piece was born. Hope you enjoy!

Bakugou as a boyfriend? Bliss. Bakugou as a fiancé? Heaven. Bakugou as a husband? Euphoric

Bakugou as a dad?.......he sure is something

Don’t get me wrong, Bakugou would be the ultimate dad

Baby crying in the middle of the night? Sleep love, daddy’s got it. Baby needs a bottle? He can warm it up with his hands. Baby’s feeling bored? Look at these mini fireworks in his hands!! Katsuki’s got it all

But that’s a baby Bakugou

Bakugou with a teenager

oOf

Katsuki’s teen will be either one of two things

His best friend

Or his mortal enemy (whom he still loves endlessly)

His 16 year old daughter, Katsumi, was both

And yes they loved each other very much, but they also got into battles on who could cook dinner better, who Y/N loved more, hell, when y’all came back from a restaurant THEY FOUGHT OVER WHO MADE IT TO THE FRONT DOOR FIRST

But this battle? Y/N might just let them Kill each other...just this once

——————————————————————————

“WHO THE FUCK IS THI-“

*SMACK* (thx Y/N)

“Daddy, this is Izuru! Izuru this is my lovely mother and that’s my shitty dad that I love so dearly!”

Katsumi definitely inherited her guts from the Bakugou’s

“Nice to meet you Mr and Mrs. Bakugou!”

Ah man, here we go

Silence. Pure, awkward, scary, silence. And of course Y/N’s nervous twitching HOPING that her dear husband doesn’t murder the green haired boy. As the young couple stand infront of the doorway smiling, the older couple is staring at them, one in nervousness, and the other in shock. (I’m talking Denki going 4 million volts shocked)

“Well.....Welcome Izuru! I knew you’d be coming over soon but I didn’t expect it tonight. It’s lovely to meet you,” Y/N ever so kindly said once she let out a sigh.

Her husband almost got whiplash from how fast he turned to look at her. “Knew?!? You knew about this kid?? And didn’t bother to tell me?!??”

“Well if I told you, you woulda stopped this meeting from happening ya jerk!” Y/N visciously explained.

“YA DAMN RIGHT CUZ-“ silenced with another smack from his wife. Y/N sure learned a lot from Mitsuki. “Please come in you two, I’ll start dinner.”

As the young couple sat in the living room speaking, the older one was in the kitchen preparing food. Well one of them was, the other was too busy burning a whole into the poor boy’s body with just his eyes.

*SMACK*

“Ow.” Continues to stare

“Suki stop that, you’re gonna scare the poor boy.” Y/N said.

“GOOD. I DONT WANT SOMEONE LIKE HIM CONTAMINATING THE BAKUGOU LINE!” The blonde dramatically yelled.

“Contaminating? Love, we don’t even know if they’ve had sex. I doubt he’s “contaminating” anything any time soon.” You said with attitude.

Bakugou just stared at you know with the same look.

“Hmph!” And turned to look back at the kids.

“HEY!” Bakugou screamed.

“Heyyyyy~” Katsumi replied.

“No not “Heyyyy~,” Katsuki began and replied with a girly impersonation of his daughter as he walk towards the couple. “I mean, HEY, as in have you had sex with this kid?” He sternly asked.

“KATSUKI OH MY GOD,” Y/N screamed as she dropped something in shock.

“.......Yeah, so what?” His daughter replied.

Y/N wasn’t even mad. She already knew. She could tell. Mother’s instinct I guess.

Katsuki was fuming.

“NOPE! NO! THIS RELATIONSHIP WONT GO ON! YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING SEX!” The older blonde screamed while looking at the now blushing green haired teen and his rebellious daughter. And Y/N was just giving him this...look.

‘What a fucking hypocrite’ you thought to yourself.

“How old were you when you fucked mom?”

(ITS QUIET AINT NO BACKTALK)

Pure and utter silence.

Katsuki started stepping back from the couple while facing them and nodding his head. “.....use condoms,” and walked back to his deceased wife.

As dinner is placed on the table and everyone takes their seats, Katsuki can’t help but stare at this boy. Why does he seem so familiar?

Everyone just ate and talked. Grades, school, when did y’all meet, how long has it been? The usual. But Katsuki remained silent while thinking. And then..it clicked!

Katsuki slammed his hands on the table and stood up from his seat looking at the boy across from him. “What’s your last name?!”

Izuru was nervous because he was well aware of who Katsumi’s father was and how her father’s relationship with his own father was kinda iffy.

“M-Midoriya sir.” He nervously stated.

Katsuki saw red.

“DEKU?!??????!!!!!” He screamed

“Oh come on Katsuki! Like that wasn’t obvious!” You said rolling your eyes.

“There is NO WAY IN HELL I’m gonna let the Bakugou line be contaminated with Deku’s genes! Our family line only brings in the best of the best!” Katsuki proudly and loudly stated.

“So what am I?” Y/N asked.

“The best of the best! You were and are the perfect one for me Y/N! You know this, I know this, everyone knows this. And look at what we created-“ he was interrupted by his wife.

“A mini you?”

“A MINI ME! And who wouldn’t want that?!”

“Dad.” Katsumi said.

Now that caught Katsuki off guard. For the past 16 years, Katsumi has always been a daddy’s girl. She never called him “dad,” ew. She said “Daddy,” or “Shitty dad.” As Katsuki turned to his daughter he could see the look in her eyes.

“.......you really wanna be with this kid?” He asked.

“I really do.” Katsumi said while grabbing onto Izuru’s hand.

“...Ok then. You can be with him.” Katsuki calmly said.

Katsumi excitingly got up and ran towards her dad’s seat giving him a hug.

“Thanks daddy,” she said while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Dinner continued on as normal as it could. Katsuki was just gonna have to learn how to let go.

Later

As the married couple got ready to sleep, Katsuki was hanging outside their balcony.

“What was up with you Blasty? I haven’t seen that kinda Katsuki since UA.” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him.

“You’re not scared?” Katsuki asked.

“Of?”

“Katsumi. She’s growing up. She has a boyfriend now. That girl is having sex! She’s not daddy’s little girl anymore.” He sadly said.

“That’s what this is about? Katsumi growing up? Suki, this was always gonna happen. She’s in her prime teenage years. She’s 16! A lots gonna start happening.” You began.

“I know that but-“

“But nothing Katsuki. You can be scared of her growing up, I am too, but we can’t be so scared that we try and stop her. You just have to know that Katsumi will always come back to us no matter how old she is. And she will always, always be a daddy’s girl. Her entire world revolves around you Katsuki, but we gotta let her go at some point. We have to let her grow. That’s how the best of the best are made after all, right? It’s what we look for in a Bakugou.” You finished.

Katsuki couldnt do anything but smile. You were right. He knew you were. And he was willing to let his little cub grow.

“......You’ve gotta stop interrupting me when I talk.” He laughed.

“And you’ve gotta stop saying the dumbest shit in the world.” You teased back.

He pulled you in for a quick peck and just held you there in his arms. He was so glad he had you to keep him grounded. You’re the best of the best after all. It only makes sense.

“Daddy?” Katsumi walked into her parents room, unnoticed.

As the two broke the hug to see their daughter, looking a little timid, Katsuki spoke.

“Katsumi, hey princess. What’s up with you.” Katsuki asked as he walked towards his daughter.

“You’re not...disappointed in me, right? You know, for who I chose to be with. I’m sorry if I chose Izuru but I-“ this time, it was Katsuki who interrupted.

“Hey hey, no of course not baby bear. I would never be disappointed in who your true feelings pulled you to. I don’t want you to apologize for anything when today I caused most of the trouble.” Katsuki said while wiping one of his daughter’s stray tears.

“You know I’m never gonna leave you guys. Right? I’m gonna grow up but I’ll always want to have a close relationship with you and mom. I love you guys, and I’m not going anywhere.” Katsumi said.

“We know Katsumi. And we love you too. And we’re far from disappointed in you. We are so proud of the young woman you’ve become today.” Y/N joined in.

Katsumi ran to her mother and gave her the tightest hug, and Katsuki couldn’t help but stare at his two girls. His world. His entire reason for living. All right there in his arms as he pulled them in for a bigger hug.

“Thanks you guys. Well, I’m gonna head to bed. I’ve got a date with Izuru tomorrow and I don’t wanna be late.” Katsumi began walking towards her parents door until Katsuki called her.

“Hey baby bear,”

“Yeah?”

“Izuru. He seems alright. He’ll be good for you.” Katsuki admitted.

“Yeah. He really is. He’s the best of the best after all. Reminds me of someone I know.” Katsumi said while leaving the room.

Yeah. Katsuki will be just fine.

A/N: Sheesh. This kinda sucked but I did this in my literature class sooo....it’s still credible work since I was writing, right? Yeah..?....No?...yeah ok. Anyways, HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT BEAR CUBS🧸💗

P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!! And I PROMISE I’ll get better and produce more work. Feel free to leave requests!

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

Can you do a reader x Damon salvatore where everyone thinks the only reason they are together is because damon sired her, but she gets angry and tells them the truth that she always had feelings and didn't say anything because she knew he liked Elena...

Sire Or No Sire

damon Salvatore x reader / masterlist

summary; it is easily perceived why you look at Damon the way that you do, though most people think that is an affect of him having turned you to save your life. And that is the last straw of you realising that they know nothing / warnings; mentions of Damon x Elena, mentions of Damon x Caroline, jealousy, angst, mentions of the sire bond, mentions of sex, swearing, angst, breakup, toxic friendships

Their voices, their aloud opinions, brought you nothing but pain, the tragedy seeping into your vervain allergic veins, as you shook your head. It was as though they thought that you were unable to hear their chatter, but you knew that they would be wrong with assuming so. You were no longer weak, with human senses flooding your every whim, you were a vampire.

An immortal. It felt strange to think that you would no longer age in physical layers, instead, your mind would be the only participant within your body to forever grow with the various memories that you would be collecting through the next decades. Though, you weren’t the only one, Caroline was in that room, reprimanding Damon for saving your life.

You could hear her words loud and clear, as the Salvatores and the rest of your friends stood by, some agreeing with her, such as Elena, whereas others remained silence, such as the vampire that had turned you in the first place. The viscous tone hissing out of the blonde’s mouth scathed you emotionally, and ended with you thudding back against Damon’s bedroom door, before entering the room, and ensuring that it was locked behind you.

“The two of you are only together because of the sire bond. You turning her, had become nothing more an excuse to fuck and put a label on it!”

Did she think that she was defending you? Because to you, it didn’t sound like it, but that was Caroline for you, always insistent of her opinion, though, you two did get along. The pair of you understood what it was like to be on the sidelines, whilst perfect Elena played the victim every time, and got any guy she wanted, even her friends were swayed with the young gentlemen first.

Elena Gilbert was the epiphany of perfect; she was the damsel in distress, giving the opportunity to whomever she sought after to come and save her. You weren’t her, dissimilar to the whiny brunette, you were prepared to fight the monsters that threatened your life, human or not. And that included Damon long ago, before you saw how sweet the over century old man was.

One thing that you had never done though, was date someone and bluntly flirt with their brother. That was crossing a line, you appreciated honesty, especially in this lifestyle, and Caroline had declared her thoughts. She spoke truthfully, believing her own words, though they were far from facts.

They needed to know that you weren’t invested in a relationship with Damon because of him turning you, it was something you had never asked for, nor dreamed about. But it had happened, and whilst it brought the pair of you closer, there was no maker bond, instead, there had already been a flirtatious brewing between the pair of you whilst you were still human.

You becoming like him gave the two of you more time together as he trained you to breathe idly in and calm your bloodlust. Or how in the middle of the night, he would come by your house, and awake you from a terror, afterwards taking you for an innocent stroll through the woods.

Without him, you’d have been on a path to nowhere, lost and unable to find a route to continue on, wading through the life after death with no direction, nor set course to keep you in line. Surely, you’d have murdered many a man or woman, if you were dependant with surviving with her bewitched curse of immortality, digging into their inviting throats with your dagger canine teeth, that pulsed to be fed.

“That’s a load of- you know what, think what you want to think, you have a history of jealousy filled, toxic and werewolf involved relationships, you are not exactly the best person here to judge me on my healthy and loving romantic partnership with y/n!”

Damon half yelled at the vampiric blonde, however, another tone was fast to respond to his defensive outburst and cause the both of you a disgruntled pair of expressions. “She was turned by you brother, that runs the risk of a sore bond appropriating her feelings.”

Oh, noble Stefan. He had caused you to snap, thrusting the door open to his brother’s bedroom open, making its hinges weaken, as you whisked through the halls in seconds, joining the compendium of mystic falls in the living space, all eyes turned to you, well aware that you had heard all their smart mouthed and toxic opinions.

The sire bond wasn’t something that was too uncommon, however it affected nothing in your life. It was just for them to pick at something that was good, they could never allow something that was actually decent to revel in existence. They had to be the ones with the perfect prissy lives, not others.

“Shut your mouth, ripper!” Yes, you pulled at that string of his life, dangling it degradingly before his eyes, watching as his eyes that were focalised into you turned sour. “I love your brother, and just because you loved the love triangles the pair of you would be involved in with bitchy Gilbert over there, or bloody Katherine, does not make any other people that he or you are with invalid!”

Elena stepped forwards, her doe eyes boring with contained anger towards you. Though instead of speaking to you, her words were directed at her ex, and she wanted to gouge your reaction. “You promised me that we were going to last forever, are you going to do the same to her?”

“No, because I don’t need a time span to appreciate her presence in. I don’t need to tell her lies nor make selfish promises, because with her I am a better man.” Damon sneered at her, coming to stand beside you, protectively wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“It’s the sire bond.” Elena stated furiously, hating the fact that she was not getting her way. In turn, you laughed, shaking your head at her incessant denial of allowing Damon to move on.

“Shut the fuck up, if you had maybe given a shit about me in the past, you’d have realised that I would stare at you enviously when you were at his side. But maybe you knew, and you just wanted to brag, but I can prove that there is no bond other than the one we already built together.”

“Yeah, and how are you going to do that?” She pestered, and with a sorrowful glance directed at Damon, you dropped your head, anything but proud with what you were about to do. Swiftly you turned, watching as Damon’s eyes widened.

“I’m going to leave.” Whence you began to walk, a hand grasped your wrist, keeping your feet locked where they were. Caroline’s voice broke through the air, her eyes were filled with regret, from all the things that she had said, and all the opinions that she had formed.

“You’re not serious! You’re gonna break up with him because of us?” Stiffly you nodded, watching as Damon felt a taken back. He gaped his mouth open, in shock.

“I’d do anything for my friends, despite the circumstances not being reciprocated. I’m not even allowed to be in a relationship with the man that I love because you are all endorsed with the idea that it’s some stupid bond. Yes, we have a bond, but it’s not a sire one.”

“Baby, don’t.” Damon practically begged, watching as you yourself were torn and conflicted in regards to the situation. A sad smile monitored your face, as you slipped out of his grasp.

“We might have to wait another lifetime until we’re allowed to be together without resorts of undermining and people that don’t really care about us. Some people want there to be a whole ass agility course to separate us, but maybe if we wait, we can prove how wrong they are, if they’re not dead by then.”

Caroline felt terrible, once again Stefan had taken his brother’s life from him, and Elena, well she felt accomplished. She went to reach for Damon’s arm, but he threw her consoling manner and herself across the room, heading straight after you, with a bottle of bourbon.

If you could leave them to prove a point, so could be; he loved you. That was enough, especially for him, he could leave those doses of poison behind, if he would grant himself permission without asking, a peaceful life with you.

#damon salvatore angst #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon salvatore x reader #damon x reader oneshot #vampire diaries damon x reader #Damon x reader angst #damon x reader imagine #damon oneshot #tvd damon x reader #damon imagine #damon salvatore x y/n #damon salvatore one shot #tvd angst #tvd one shot #tvd request

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akakeiiji · 3 years

Note

HI!~ (THIS IS MY FIRST TINE REQUESTING AND IM REALLY EXCITED) Can I request a scenario where their smol s/o (I'm like 155 or 5'1 for reference) gets easily lost? Like they just wonder off on their own cause they think that he's still with them and she tends to leave her phone with him so calling to find her is out of the question??? (Me honestly IM SORRY FRIENDS AND FAMILY) She likes a lot of things so sometimes its hard to find her cause they never know where she is? Ushi, Tsuki and Bokuto-🌼

-`,✎ Ushijima, Tsukishima and Bokuto losing their short S/O in a crowd

THIS REQUEST IS JUST TOO ADORABLE AND IT HITS SO CLOSE TO HOME!! We’re the same height nonnie 🤧🤧✋ Short gang, where ya’ll at?

Also I apparently don’t know how to read because I thought you requested for headcanons at first despite you clearly asking for scenarios so I decided to keep the hcs since I was already halfway done with them~ hope you don’t mind, nonnie!

The man is literally built like the empire state building, he just towers over everyone, it’s insane

And then there you are behind him, all tiny and stuff, it’s so friggin adorable

He doesn’t really notice your height difference at all

Whenever people point it out, he just cocks his head with his eyebrows furrowed and is like “Yeah, I’m tall?? And they’re short?? Why are you reacting like that?”

He’s genuinely confused and doesn’t see why it’s a big deal at all

When he looks at you he doesn’t really pick up on itty bitty details like your height and stature; he just sees you for the whole you and sees you simply as this perfect deity that he loves

But he does appreciate the perks that come with it such as the way you feel when he hugs you after a match or the way you look up at him so adorably when you’re trying to get a kiss

He also didn’t realize the cons that came with having a tiny s/o

There are many but we’re focusing on the fact that it’s so easy to lose you in a crowd

He’ll literally look away for 0.5 seconds and when he looks back at you, you’re suddenly gone

He probably won’t notice for a bit but after a while, he’ll wonder why you aren’t holding onto his sleeve or hand anymore

Whenever this happens he usually goes about it in two ways; he’d either stay still where he is and let you find him (which isn’t hard, he sticks out like a sore thumb) or if enough time passes, he’ll retrace his steps and look for you himself

He’ll have a tiny little frown on his face since he gets so worried about you, like you’re so tiny what if you get trampled??

When he does find you though, the wide smile on your face when you catch sight of him honestly makes the search worth it

can you tell that I miss ushi so friggin much

The streets in downtown Tokyo are always so packed at this time of day. There were hundreds of people rushing to and from work, tourists taking in the sights, and busy shoppers such as yourself and Ushijima; you two had just finished shopping together and were heading to your favorite restaurant in the area as you always do to end your date night.

Your hand remained tightly wrapped around the hem of your boyfriend’s coat as you two made your way down the busy streets, struggling to not get pulled away as people continued to mercilessly push past you. You would have much rather held Ushijima’s hand but he insisted on carrying all your shopping bags and was rather preoccupied with them at that moment.

He marched on, oblivious to your struggles behind him. It was during times like this when you hated how short your legs were, you were practically jogging to keep up with your boyfriend who, to him, was only going at a leisurely pace.

Before you knew it, your hand had loosened and you suddenly lost hold of his coat. You looked up, hoping to find him just a few feet away, but he had disappeared into the sea of people all around you.

Ushijima hadn’t noticed anything at first, he was too focused on where he was going to realize that the little tugs on the hem of his coat throughout the journey were suddenly gone. He looked down at both his hands and placed the shopping bags on one of them to the other so that he could use it to hold your own.

He held out his free hand behind him, calling out your name, and motioned for you to grab it. A few seconds went by of him gesturing like this only to be met with no response.

He looked back, eyebrows furrowed, only to find no sign of you.

Ushijima immediately stops in his tracks, eyes widening ever so slightly as he did a little 360 turn in his spot, raking over the crowds rushing past him in hopes he’d find your familiar head of hair bouncing about.

He stood motionless where he was, forcing people to walk around him—most wanted to tell him off for standing in the middle of the street but no one had the balls to.

A few minutes went by and he began walking down the direction he came from looking everywhere for you. Worry began to bubble in him when you were still nowhere to be found but suddenly he saw a figure waving at him from afar.

You were standing on top of those small cement blocks on the bottom street lights, waving your free hand that wasn’t wrapped around the lamp towards your boyfriend, grinning ear to ear when you met eyes with him.

Ushijima smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing as he made his way over to you. You met him halfway, immediately wrapping your arms around him in a hug, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m never letting go of your hand next time.” He said, pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before interlocking your fingers together. You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely not.”

We all already know this: Kei is fucking ruthless

It doesn’t matter that you’re dating. It doesn’t matter that you’re literally his favorite person in the world tho he’ll never admit this to you you will not be free from his savageness

No one is more hyper-aware of your height difference than he is and no one teases you more than him

Tsukishima is literally the type to steal your things and hold them over your head or he’ll purposefully stand at full height whenever you want to kiss him just so that he can watch you struggle

“Oh, babe, I didn’t see you from down there.”

Is the type to purposefully put things you use all the time up on the top shelves in cupboards and cabinets

He says that he does this to annoy but really he does this so that you can call him to help you since he banned you from climbing the counters 🤧✋

He really loves your height though as much as he likes to tease you for it

He loves how easy it is to wrap his arms around you and how you burrow into his chest whenever you hug

His favorite thing about your height is probably the fact that it’s so comfortable being the big spoon with you since you fit so snuggly against him 🥺

again he’ll never tell you this, my man is tight-lipped

However he can get very protective over you, it’s like he developed this idea in this head that small = fragile

So whenever he loses track of you in a crowd (which happens a lot, it's honestly embarrassing) he immediately drops everything and searches for you

He’ll have this permanent pout on his face as he retraces his steps, going back to wherever you two were and keeping an eye out for either you or places that would catch your eye

Once he finally catches you, he’d sigh in relief and immediately put up his “i’m annoyed right now, give me attention” face and head over to you, knocking your head with his knuckles lightly

He’d lecture you a bit about staying close to him and he’d spend the rest of your time out with his eye on you and with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

The mall was always so crowded during the weekend especially now that Christmas was just around the corner. Tsukishima told you that you two should visit the mall later during the week but you were just so excited to see this new movie, he simply couldn’t say no; he cursed himself for being so tightly wrapped around your finger.

The building was already pretty full when you two entered the cinema but when you two emerged, it was as if the number of people there seemed to double in just a span of a few hours.

As you two made your way through the tight-knit crowds of people, the frown on Tsukishima’s face never left as people kept pushing and rushing past him. He called out your name behind him and said, “See, I told you we should have come after the weekend, it’s like half the city is here right now.”

He waited for your usual giggle or scoff, maybe a light smack on his arm as you tell him to brighten up but there wasn’t any of that.

“(Y/N)? Did you hear me? I—(Y/N?),” He turned around, worried that you may have been upset at him but instead was surprised to find that you weren’t trailing along behind him like he expected you to be.

He turned around fully, hands coming out of his pocket as he raked his eyes over the crowds of people around him. It would be nearly impossible to find you here, there were probably hundreds of people in the mall now.

Tsukishima groaned slightly as he ran a hand through his locks, his other hand going into his pant pocket to ring your phone only to realize that it was with him as well, right next to his. This elicited a second groan from the blonde.

Knowing you, you probably got distracted by something and wandered away from him.

He retraced his steps, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. He had no idea when you wandered away from him so you could have been anywhere. He stood at full height, towering over the majority of the crowd, and scanned the entirety of the floor and the shops on it.

He entered a few stores he knew you’d most likely visit; the bookstore, the pet store, and a shop that was having a 50% sale but he found no traces of you.

Tsukishima was about to give up and head to the information desk and ask them to announce something on the loudspeaker to grab your attention—probably something along the lines of “To the small gremlin wandering around floor three right now, please meet Tsukishima Kei at the main exit.”—when he spotted a bright store on the other side of the floor.

You were there. He just knew it.

He rolled his eyes as he made his way to the anime store and low and behold, there you were, crouching as you stared at the shelves of anime merchandise, a wide ear to ear grin on your face.

Tsukishima sighed and lightly smacked you, tearing you away from your thoughts and making you look up at him in shock.

“You are such an idiot, (Y/N).” You only laughed in response and wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face onto his chest. “Aww, Kei! Were you worried about me?”

“Of course, I was. How do you expect me to feel?” He said with another roll of his eyes. He brought his hand up and placed it on top of your head. “I was worried someone thought you were a child and kidnapped you.”

You let out an indignant gasp and started to smack him but he only laughed and took your hand in his, dragging you out of the store behind him ignoring your protests.

Nobody in the whole entire world thinks you’re more adorable than Bokuto

He adores the fact that you’re so tiny, he likes you call you his pocket-sized s/o

He never really teases you, instead he always coos and coddles you

He especially loves lifting you up in his arms and twirling you around, he always does this after winning a game and it always leaves you feeling dizzy

But you never complain bc who would complain about being hugged by Kou like that 🤧✋

However, as much as Bokuto loves how smol you are, he always kinda forgets that you’re short??

It’s because he’s always surrounded by tall people; his friends, the volleyball team, etc.

So he always forgets to adjust when he’s with you

And you know how some people just naturally walk really really fast, like they can’t help it, it’s just how they walk normally??

Yeah, that’s Bokuto

And this paired with the fact that he is literally 6’1 means he practically travels at light speed

Your tiny legs can barely keep up with your excitable boyfriend and you’re always practically jogging to keep up with him so if you take your eyes off of him for even just a few seconds he’ll probably run off somewhere and disappear 😔✋

This occurs so often when you two are out that you’re never shocked whenever it happens

It takes a few minutes before Bokuto realizes that he’s suddenly alone in a crowd and that you aren’t beside him like he thought you would be

AND IM SORRY BUT THE FIRST THING HE’LL DO IS JUST YELL OUT YOUR NAME REPEATEDLY AT FULL VOLUME WITH NO SHAME WHATSOEVER

“(Y/N)!! WHERE ARE YOU??”

Everyone around him would give him looks but he wouldn’t care, he just needs to find you fast or he’ll start panicking tho he lowkey already is

Some people would think that he’s looking for his kid but nah, he’s just looking for his smol s/o who would show up beside him after a while with a disgruntled look on their face

It never takes long for you two to reunite when you get separated, you just have to wait for the distinctive voice of your boyfriend yelling for you somewhere

When you two find each other, the first thing he’ll do is pull you into a tight hug, usually lifting you up from the ground as he presses a few kisses on your cheeks in relief

He’ll remember to walk slowly for the rest of the time you’re out, usually with his arm over your shoulder or with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

It made absolutely no sense to you that Bokuto literally grew up in the city yet has never visited the amusement park in the area before. You’ve visited the park countless times before but for your boyfriend, it was a first.

Bokuto was practically bouncing with excitement ever since you proposed the idea of visiting the amusement park together and it only got more intense as the day of your visit grew closer and closer.

You somewhat regretted not pushing your date to a later day in the week so that it didn’t fall on the weekend since the park was so packed but that feeling quickly dissipated when you glanced at your beaming boyfriend beside you.

What you did regret however was the fact that you didn’t wear more comfortable shoes, ones that were more fitting for exercise rather than leisurely walks since you were practically running around the park just to keep up with Bokuto.

His hand remained tightly clasped on your own as he sprinted all around the park, looking at all the rides, food stands, and gift shops around the place. He wasn’t really running, he was simply walking at a quick pace but this coupled with his long legs made it so difficult to match his pace with your significantly shorter ones.

You two had just gotten off a rather intense roller coaster and you felt your head spin from how dizzy it made you, you halted in your steps as Bokuto was about to begin running towards another ride making Bokuto stop as well as he was pulled back by your hand which was still holding onto his.

“Koutarou, let me rest for a bit,” You said as you sat on a bench in the shade, Bokuto immediately nodded and took a seat beside you, he handed you a bottle of water from his bag. “Sure babe, here drink this.”

After a few minutes of talking and resting under the shade, you stood up, reinvigorated, and filled with more energy. “Okay, let’s go, I’m feeling much better now,”

Bokuto immediately jumped onto his feet and beamed at you, more than ready for another round of rollercoasters and thrilling rides. He held out his hand for you to take and you two headed farther into the park.

“Let’s go on the Viking ride next—wait, hold on, let me fix this.” You let go of your boyfriend’s hand and began adjusting the overpriced headband on your head; Bokuto insisted on buying matching ones at the gift shop despite their ridiculous price (“Look, it’s just so adorable!”)

When you looked up, ready to grab ahold of his hand again, Bokuto was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

You whipped your head all around you but you couldn’t see the familiar head of hair of your boyfriend in the horde of people around you. You stood on your tiptoes, craning your head to get a better view but that didn’t do anything to help. You feel back on your feet and huffed; curse you and your short stature.

You walked down the direction you two were originally headed at, raking your eyes over the crowds of people you walked past when you suddenly heard a familiar voice yelling out your name from a distance. You whipped your head towards the direction of the voice and began to jog towards it.

Bokuto was standing on his tiptoes, his hands cupping his mouth as he called out for you over and over again, oblivious to the looks of shock from the people around him.

As he was about to scream out your name for the dozenth time, you suddenly pushed your way through the people around him and grabbed ahold of his arm, an exasperated yet also relieved look on your face.

Bokuto’s face immediately lit up, the small frown on his lips turning into a large smile as he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed you into his chest and lifted you off the ground as he usually does when he hugs you.

You giggled and flailed around as he did this, when he placed you back safely on the ground, he placed a small kiss on your forehead.

“Sorry for leaving you behind,” Bokuto said as he laced his fingers onto your own, “It won’t happen again,”

You scoffed playfully and let yourself be dragged along by him, “That’s what you said last time, Kou.”

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

Text

Untamed (chapter 4 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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Hawks had gone on an early morning flight the following day, before you had stirred from sleep, leaving you alone in the cabin for the first time.

He was reaching the apex of his rut. The cabin was beginning to feel like the inside of an oven. That was great for keeping his mate warm, but not so great for him in his current state, where he felt like he was roasting alive.

Outside, the winds were cold, almost punishingly so. Under normal conditions, he would have been wrapped up in his fur coat. However, now, he was wearing a loose T-shirt more suited for summer, baggy cargo pants and military boots.

He took off into the sky, soaring at great speeds that would make him near impossible to see with the naked eye, assuming anyone was actually around to spot him in the first place.

He'd soar up high, then let himself descend in a tumbling spiral, then catch his fall above the trees and rocket between the branches, sometimes letting the bottoms of his boots skim the trees to shake the snow off.

He always loved the feeling of the wind through his feathers; but, the sensation was more intense during his rut. While pain receptors didn't exist in his feathers in the same manner as his flesh and bones, he could still process feeling.

During his rut, feeling was intensified in his wings. He almost thought he could breathe the air through his feathers. Perhaps, it was why he felt so unbearably warm, why your touch had reduced him to a blabbering animal.

It was difficult to resist the desire to bring you with him on his flights, to hold you against his chest and feel your body clinging to him while he descended.

It was exciting to think about what kind of noises you would make. He hoped that you would find it exhilarating. He wanted to feel your heartbeat thundering away from the rush, to see red tinting your cheeks and tears in your eyes.

Instead, Hawks floated alone and let the late winter air bite away at his skin while the winds brushed along his feathers. It was soothing more so than chilling. Despite how unfitting his clothes was for the weather, not even the tips of his fingers felt cold.

The winter breeze had relaxed him, but not for long. Despite the obvious chill in the air, Hawks was still sporting a painful erection. He avoided touching it, knowing full well that masturbation was pointless. Enduring this alone for years taught him that it would likely only irritate him further.

You were here, you were safe, you were his, you wanted to be here, you wanted him. Your scent was all over the nest and his bite mark was a heavy eyesore on your throat. There wasn't another human for miles. But, despite the obvious fact that there was no reason for him to feel uneasy, his nature wouldn't allow him to rest.

His rational side wanted to let you relax, to give you some reprieve from him, from what he did to you and intended to do again. The beast, however, clawing under his skin, wanted to have you again.

Hawks flew some, and then some more, letting time slip away, until he was agitated to the point that his hands were digging into his outer thighs, nails threatening to rip his clothes.

Snow began to fall on his way back to the cabin, and the gentle wind hurled it to and fro. He could feel the soft droplets fluttering against his skin. The snow felt cold, of course, but he didn't really process it. All he could think about was getting back to you.

When he crossed the threshold, it was like entering another world. The outside whistled with the harsh wind and kicked snow inside, suddenly silenced when he slammed the door. He felt the sudden security of being in his nest, enclosed, private, safe, where it smelt like freshly cut logs and you.

As Hawks stepped into the living room, he realized that you had migrated away from the bed, likely due to the cold. You had brought some blankets and pillows over and haphazardly arranged them in front of the fireplace. You had even dug a rolled-up futon out of the supply closet to pile the bedding on top of. He had forgotten that was even in there.

His boots thumped against the wood floor as he walked, catching your attention. You peered up at him, your eyes failing to mask your excitement at his return.

At a glance, Hawks could see that you had showered while he was away. Your hair was clean, just a tiny bit damp at the ends. As he got closer, he could faintly catch a whiff of the well water that fed into to the cabin lingering on your skin.

It was only natural that you would want to clean off after what he had done to you the past couple days. Hawks was well aware of that and was trying to remain calm about the whole situation; but, the truth was, he was annoyed by your actions.

You had washed him away.

Of course, that could easily be remedied.

Hawks advanced towards you, mindful to not step on the blankets with his boots, to not dirty the nest you made. He lowered onto his haunches first, taking in the sight of you, the sight of the bedding you had arranged without him. You had slipped on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, not suitable for the weather, but suitable for him. Like this, your body was very accessible, that much was certain.

"I made breakfast, if you're hungry?" you offered, clearly not at all perturbed by his looming and staring. He didn't look annoyed, but oddly intrigued, maybe even flattered by your behavior.

"You have snow in your hair," you observed, smiling at the sight of pale white crystals caught in his blonde locks. You leaned up and reached for him, carefully tousling his hair to shake the snow free.

He waited until you were done preening him and suddenly jerked forward, pushing you onto your back with his torso. He followed with you, knees pinning you beneath him, one falling between your thighs.

When you peered up at him, unperturbed by his behavior, Hawks' gold eyes narrowed and his fangs bared. A sound that you didn't know he was capable of making snarled from behind his teeth and echoed around the room.

It was a growl, not like anything you had heard from a dog, or any animal, really. You didn't know that he could make noises like that. It seemed unfitting for the calm, polite hero that you knew so well. Then again, he had warned you about this.

Maybe, this whole experience was doing something to you, changing you; or, more likely, he was helping you discover things about yourself you never knew existed.

The growl didn't frighten you at all. It made you tremble with excitement, made your skin prickle with goosebumps and heart flutter, made wetness pool between your legs.

Spurred on by him, maybe wanting to rattle the beast's cage a little, you decided to be daring. You lifted a leg, pressed your foot against his chest, and pushed against him. Of course, he didn't budge at all. He was much stronger than you normally, and especially unwavering in this state of mind.

"Take off your clothes," you requested, trying your damn best to sound powerful, unyielding. You sounded firm, sure, but you didn't sound as strong as you wanted to, maybe not strong enough to coerce a beast.

Yet, Hawks' gaze softened, surprising you. He had told you he wanted you to be yourself, to not succumb to his every emotion. It kept him grounded, reminded him that you were here of your own free will, because you wanted to be. Your demand sobered him.

"Whatever you want," he uttered, sultry and low, and it made you tremble with excited goosebumps.

He leaned back, rising to his feet, and began shucking off his clothes in record time. His boots hit the floor noisily before he fumbled with his belt, having it barely undone before it was dragged down his hips by his pants.

He wasn't wearing underwear, you realized, as he shucked his pants off his feet. He lifted his arms and tugged his shirt over his head. The fabric hit the floor and, rather than throwing himself on top of you, Hawks remained standing.

His wings were spread out behind him, crimson feathers bright and imposing. His gold eyes were vibrant, staring you down like a predator seconds away from laying claim to its prey.

However, it didn't go unnoticed to you that he was standing there to allow you to appraise him, as if you had never laid eyes upon his nudity before.

Despite the cold, he had a faint sheen of sweat that was glistening in the light coming from the fireplace, outlining taut abdominal muscles. He hadn't eaten much since his arrival, and that much was obvious by the exaggerated tightness around his core, muscles more enhanced than you had ever seen before.

It felt almost shameful to stare at his crotch, but it was damn near impossible to not admire the heavy cock between his thighs. It was a sight to behold, just like the rest of him. The trail of pale blonde pubes leading from beneath his belly button was practically begging you to stare.

Still, you dragged your gaze back up at his face, where he looked surprisingly anxious, as if there a chance in hell you would tell him no. Sometimes, it was astonishing to think that someone so beautiful could have an ounce of self-doubt. But, he did. Even if he managed to hide it well, you could always spot it, the fear of not being good enough.

"Keigo," you uttered, voice sounding weak over the sound of the crackling fireplace.

Your arms lifted, hands reaching out for him, beckoning him into an embrace. You blinked and suddenly, he was on top of you, torso ushering you back into the sheets while his hands clawed at your shorts, dragging them down your legs.

Hawks panted into your neck, nails biting at the fleshy meat of your thighs as he tried to will himself to calm down. He was being nonsensical. You had been together for a while now. He had fucked you in every position he could possibly think of, held you at night when he could and kissed your mouth like you were his.

Because you were. Yet, despite all that, he felt so pleased that you still chose him, again.

When your hands slid over his shoulders and felt the burning heat of his skin, you felt a tinge of guilt at his state. Deliriously, you wanted to take care of him, to be able to give him everything he needed.

One hand cradling the back of his neck, you pulled him up until his face came into view and you kissed at the corner of his mouth. Encouraged, he followed, tilting his head to capture your lips in a proper kiss.

You felt his shoulders relax as his body slid atop yours, legs tangled and torsos coming together. His hands released your thighs, opting to slide up your sides, beneath your shirt and along the expansion of your ribs, where the pads of his fingers traced the outlines of your bones.

Despite the insistent, throbbing erection trapped against your thigh, burning hot like forged iron, his kisses were gentle, ushering your mouth open to accept his tongue. He kissed you like he had forgotten what your mouth tasted like, tongue slotting over yours eagerly, moaning into the kiss senselessly.

After sometime, you pushed back against his chest until he finally got the message and pulled back from your lips. You tried not to laugh at the childishly irritated scowl on his face, his expression silently reprimanding you for stopping him.

"Lay down," you urged. "I wanna touch you."

"Don't need any more teasing, babe," he protested weakly.

Still, despite his protest, you nudged him pleadingly. Hawks groaned like you had struck him, but complied and began rolling over, bringing you above him.

You watched his wings flex and fan out comfortably beneath him, spread out across the sheets like twin, elegant blankets, mindful of the fireplace. He propped his back up with some pillows, giving him just enough leverage to lean up a little, but not quite in a seated position.

As Hawks got situated, you tweaked one of his nipples between your fingers. He yelped at the touch, shoulders twitching and wings shuddering faintly beneath him. Your hand was ripped away by a grip at the wrist; but, you couldn't hold back a smile as he glared up at you.

That glare disappeared off his face when you started wiggling down his lap. Of course he knew what was coming, especially when you cupped his weeping cock and tenderly lifted it off his abdomen. Yet, excitement clawed up his spine as if he was sincerely surprised.

He hardly registered your tongue lapping at the swollen tip, where he was sticky with precum. He did, however, painfully so, notice when you sank down, enveloping his length in your hot mouth.

For a moment, you just held him against your tongue, reveling in the salty taste and moaning when you felt him throb. You slid up to the tip, failing to notice how tense the rest of him was, back arched and staring down at you intensely, muscles tight from head to toe. When you sank back down, tightening your mouth around his shaft, Hawks cried out suddenly.

His loudness startled you more so than the sudden gush of his seed. His hands grabbed at the bedding. In the corner of your eye, you could see his feathers shuddering beneath him.

Hawks' cock throbbed with each spurt, heavy where it rested against your lax tongue. He was deep enough that his seed spilled right down your throat. You relaxed and swallowed it carefully, cheeks tinted red as Hawks whined above you.

When he came down from his high, he was still impossibly hard, throbbing against your tongue as if he hadn't come at all. You began bobbing your head, excited at the thought of getting him to come again. However, his hands suddenly flew up, grabbed at your cheeks and pulled you off.

You hadn't expected that, resulting in a wet pop and a string of saliva dangling between your drooping bottom lip and his member. Hawks stared for a moment, almost in disbelief at the sight, like something taken straight out of a porno, and not reality.

"God, you look so fucking naughty," he snarled, dragging your face in towards his, forcing you to arch over him. "Dirty fucking girl, aren't you?"

His tongue lapped against your bottom lip, catching your dripping saliva, before entering your mouth without preamble. The wet organ thrashed around senselessly, enjoying the taste of himself on your mouth. After a few seconds, he pulled back with a growl and dragged your shirt up, forcing your arms above your head to free you from the garment.

"Keigo, let me-" you whined.

"Be good," he silenced you in a gentle, albeit commanding, voice.

The world flipped when he spun you back around and your back hit the bedding. His wings fanned out above the two of you, beat against the air once, and flexed, plumes spread out majestically.

"I wanna touch you more," you protested, fingers weaving through his hair with dangerous intent. You gently dug the pads of your fingers into his scalp and watched his head lull from the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut.

"That's not being good," Hawks commented with a groan, making no immediate movement to stop you.

"I wasn't done," you retorted, leaning up to drag your cheek against the stubble on his jaw. You couldn't hold back a shudder at the sensation, soft yet rough hair dragging against your skin.

"Fuck," the winged hero growled, eyes opening to take you in with a faint glare.

Your felt a wandering hand smack gently against your inner thigh, forcing your legs to spread to give him space to settle between them. A digit suddenly grazed your slit, circling your entrance to gather wetness before slipping inside.

It was almost laughable to think he had gone out into the snow to cool off; yet, the heat of your core was tantalizing, so inviting that the touch alone threatened to undo him. You were already slippery and when he effortlessly sought out your sweet spot, you mewled.

Hawks groaned like you had wounded him, the sound practically vibrating from his throat and traveling through him onto you. He tilted his head to nibble at your jaw, breath hot enough to burn your skin where he exhaled against you.

"You're ready for me," Hawks commented lowly, driving his finger inside until his knuckles brushed your folds. "Did you like the taste of my cock that much? -my cum? Feel this - fuck. You're begging for it."

"You're begging for it," you retorted softly, hands carefully untangling from his hair and sliding down to cup his face. You pulled him back, away from your neck, so you could look into his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed in a low sigh, forehead bumping against yours just a little too roughly. "Want you so fucking bad."

"How bad?" you hummed encouragingly, hiking your legs up on his waist to pull him in.

His finger slipped free, hands shifting to slide over your hips, dragging you into a place more to his liking, pinned beneath him, where you were helpless to much more than squirm. You hiked your legs up on his hips, groaning when he humped at your core, causing his cock to drag against your folds.

"Kinda hurts, if I'm being honest," Hawks groaned out lowly.

"I'll take care of you," you promised, blinking slowly as you stared back at his vibrant gold eyes.

"Yeah?" he uttered weakly. "I can just-"

His tip prodded at your entrance and Hawks cut off, moaning in a wounded manner that had your head spinning. You had seen him get pent-up and frustrated before, after week long missions and months apart; but, he never sounded quite like this.

"Yes," you whispered back harshly.

With a shift of his hips, he was suddenly buried inside you. The sudden intrusion wasn't as startling as the loud noise that escaped Hawks. He shuddered above you, crying out, wings flexing and beating the air, driving him down against you.

"Oh, fuck, Keigo," you whined, realizing he had finished the moment he slipped inside.

His cock throbbed as if to remind you that he wasn't done yet. There was a wet squelch as he slipped out and rammed back inside, nearly drowned out by a guttural, "f-fuck", that he breathed against your neck.

He thrusted a few times, rough rolls of his hips, forcing your walls to accommodate his girth. You couldn't hold back a weak groan. As prepared as you might have been, it was inevitable that there would always be some strain to take him.

Hawks must have assumed that he was taking you too hard, for he slowed down, uttering a weak, "s-sorry."

Yet, the dissatisfaction from his slow pace was far worse than the slight ache when he took it too fast. You didn't want it slow and soft. The last couple days had you wound up, prepared for the promised, carnal passion. You wanted him to fuck you like his life depended on it.

"No," you hissed out, trying to angle your hips up to bring him in harder, fast. "God - no - Keigo, harder-"

With a faint growl, he obeyed that command, the sudden hard roll of the hips forcing you to break off into a loud cry.

"Babe, I'm gonna lose it if you talk like that," he warned, words throaty and rough where they breathed against your skin.

You worked one hand into his hair while the other grabbed at his back, nails biting deliciously into his skin, holding him close, forcing your bodies together.

"I want you to," you uttered between broken moans that he forced out of you with his cock.

Hawks uttered your name lowly, a clear warning.

"God, Keigo, just-" you growled, wiggling around helplessly beneath him. He shifted his weight, holding you down with a growl, as if you were dare trying to escape him.

It was exciting, and had you babbling at him wantonly, "you're so f-fucking sexy and I - I want it. Want you to just - f-fuck me like - ahh, Keigo, your mate."

His arms suddenly wound beneath you and hoisted you off the floor. You cried out, clinging to him in a startle at the sudden verticality. Hawks leaned upright, on his knees in front of the fireplace, holding you up, pressed against his chest, hands gripping your meaty hips to hold you at the perfect angle to fuck up into you.

"My mate? -fuck when you say things like that, makes me fucking - ghhh - fu-uck - you want me to fuck you? Yeah?" he babbled on, whispering harshly right into your ear.

It was a little too close, a little too loud, and left a ringing sensation in your head. Yet, you didn't want to shy away, especially not when he started growling. Clinging to him desperately, you could feel his back muscles shifting as his wings flapped with enough force to knock some logs off the stand.

His head tilted back and took in the sight of your face. Your eyes were struggling to remain open, lips parted lewdly, cheeks tinted a brilliant shade of red.

"You look amazing," he whispered, hot breath fanning over your face. "Fucked stupid on my cock, where you belong."

You moaned lowly, head lulling against his shoulder. You felt his lips press a kiss against your temple and he continued uttering into your hair.

"Gonna fill my pretty mate with cum. Is that what she wants?" he whispered, low and sweet, sultry and downright vulgar. You didn't answer; but, he felt your nails bite into his shoulders, heard your breath briefly catch in your throat.

"Yeah, she does," he agreed, breaking off into a pleased hum.

The wet, fleshy sounds drowned out the noise of the fireplace, accompanied by your helpless mewling and Hawks disgruntled moans and grunts. You were so close like this, held up by his strong grip, chest to chest.

You sought out the strength to peer up and catch a glimpse of his wings shuddering, flexing out from his back either for balance or unconsciously, you couldn't determine. You tore one of your hands from his shoulder and dragged your fingers through his plumes, along the growth until you met his back.

Hawks cried out in a sharp roar. His pace increased exponentially as he rode out his orgasm, wheezing and panting into the space beside your head. That white-hot pleasure overtook you at some point, forcing a startled scream from your throat.

He kept going and going, only slowing down when he was certain you were finished. Suddenly, he slipped out, and the emptiness had you whimpering, head spinning and body aching.

Your back hit the bedding and then your front when Hawks rolled you over. Focused on the ache between your thighs, you barely processed the rustling of the bedding, until Hawks shoved some pillows beneath your abdomen to slightly elevate your lower half.

He propped himself up on his hands and knees, fingers splayed out across the bedsheets on either side of your torso. You felt the tops of his thighs slide against the backs of yours, cock heavy and wet against your core.

The realization of what he was about to do seemed to slap him in the face at that moment, for Hawks suddenly stopped, freezing up behind you.

"Fuck, I need you," he uttered, voice hoarse and low. "Please - please, can I keep going? -still so fucking hard."

You almost didn't recognize the sound of his voice, hoarse and desperate; but, then, his wings beat against the air, sharply reminding you that this was Takami Keigo.

Your cheek was pressed against one of the pillows, arms splayed out above your head, and you realized faintly that you must have been quite the sight, spread out lewdly for him, back curved, ass in the air, presenting to him like a bitch in heat.

There was no sense of obligation spurring your unity; or, if there was, it was an afterthought. All you felt was desire, longing for more, aching to be filled, trembling and void of any coherent thought beyond Hawks.

You could feel his throbbing cock at your entrance, his knees pushing yours apart, his arms trembling on either side of you. He was hovering some odd few inches; yet, he was panting so heavily, you could feel it fanning over your back.

"Keigo," you whispered weakly. "Don't stop."

Your scream drowned out the inhuman growl that escaped him as he shoved his hips forward, sheathing himself inside your velvety heat, as deep as he could possibly go, trying to push his hips further forward as if it wasn't enough.

Hawks fucked you wildly, huffing out sharp breaths mingled with pleasured moans. It didn't take long for him to reposition his hands, one settling on your waist while the other fisted in the bedsheets above your head. He arched over you possessively, wings beating the air to drive him forward. As unnecessary as it was, you couldn't deny the way it stoked the fire inside you.

Before you could even think to ask, one of his feathers wiggled between your thighs, nuzzling against your pearl where it flicked and twirled, pinching at the bud with just enough friction to be pleasurable, but not too hard to be painful.

"Keigo!" you cried out, hands gripping the sheets with enough force to nearly tear them.

"Say my name," tumbled from his lips, like a broken baritone. "Yeah - fuck - my name - say my name. Gonna - ahh - stuff you with my c- ahh - fuck, you feel so good - so good," he babbled on, leaving your head spinning.

He was fucking into you at the perfect angle, ensuring his cock reached your sweet spot with each and every thrust. At some point, coherent thoughts died. Nothing existed beyond the bed sheets, the fireplace, the cabin. All you could think about was the sweet scent lingering on the sheets beneath you and the explosive pleasure Hawks was forcing through your body.

He came again at some point; but, you could hardly tell. Everything was already sopping wet, seed dripping from your cunt and down your thighs, as well his. The sounds he made never ceased, inhuman groans deep in his throat that mingled with each hurried inhale and exhale, in harmony with his thrusts.

His dominant hand slid down your spine, carefully curling at the back of your neck to hold you down. As mindless as it might have appeared, you were acutely aware that he wasn't holding all his weight down.

You were familiar with the power he held, the brute strength hidden beneath his charming and silly demeanor. He could hurt you very easily if he wanted to; but, he never did. Even in this state, his self-control was mind boggling, pinning you with just the right amount of pressure to keep you still, but not enough to cause any discomfort.

'Keigo' fell from your lips, again and again, as if it was the only word you knew. Above you, Hawks seemed to be in the very state he had been worried about, that he had warned you about: blinded by the pleasure of your core, lost to the desires overwhelming his every thought for days.

At some point, he hunched over even further, hardly thrusting properly anymore and just rutting into you, and you felt his lips touch the space between your shoulder blades.

It was hardly a kiss and you realized vaguely that he was drooling a little before you felt the sting of his teeth. Hawks gnawed a path up your back, leaving behind pink, blossoming bruises, before digging his teeth into your shoulder. It wasn't as strong as the last bite, a brief sting before the pain was lost to the pleasure.

He growled into your skin, whole body quaking with sharp tremors, signaling that he had reached orgasm again. You had lost sense of your own awhile ago, always ablaze in white hot pleasure. The mere touch of his hand along your skin, every shift of his hips, the union of your sexes, had you vibrating.

You lost track of how long that went on, how long Hawks kept going, mouth latched onto your skin, slobbering and whimpering into your flesh, while his hips rolled against yours, pinning you between the floor and his unwavering form.

Everything felt too good for you to process how tired you had become, brought to the brink of exhaustion, glistening with sweat from head to toe, kept awake only by his invasion of your body, the drag of his cock along your velvety walls.

Eventually, Hawks began to slow. He carefully removed his teeth from your shoulder and gave a few more thrusts, letting out a low whine that you could guess was one last, final orgasm.

His feather departed your slippery folds, leaving you aching and spent, and he remained buried as deep as he possibly could, hips pressed tightly against yours.

Hawks nuzzled his face into the back of your neck, panting wildly, and you felt what you could only describe as vibrations rumbling from his chest, so violently that it had you shaking beneath him. It was almost alarming, but the tremors steadily waned as his breathing relaxed.

Carefully, Hawks turned you onto your side, shoved the pillow beneath you away, and curled into the space between you, pressed tightly against your back, skin touching in every spot that was possible. His wings stretched out behind him, past the boundary of the bedding and spread out across the floor, lax like the rest of him.

Hawks adjusted your legs carefully, stretching them out with his own until they were comfortably laying side by side, all whilst ensuring his cock remained lodged inside you. The strain wasn't unpleasant; rather, you were surprised by how good it felt.

"Keigo?" you uttered weakly, voice so low, you were surprised he even heard you.

You felt his lips kiss at your throat and a hand settle over your tummy, fingers splayed. He uttered your own name back, as if reassuring, before his fingers moved around, sliding up and down your side soothingly.

You willed your eyes to open and watched the flames inside the hearth dance briefly before your gaze darkened and you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of the storm brewing outside and Hawks breathing softly behind you.

He didn't join you in the abyss, but watched over you cautiously, as if you could possibly be in any danger. The storm outside wasn't particularly worrisome, but it made it impossible for him to pick up sounds beyond the boundary of the cabin.

If you had turned to look upon his face, you would have seen his pupils miniscule, gold iris vibrant and wild. There was no chance that anyone would possibly disturb you, and his sensible self would have known that; but, as he was now, rut peaked and beast sufficiently satisfied, Hawks couldn't be told otherwise.

An arm drooped loosely over your waist, holding you close, and he listened to the soothing beats of your heart as you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #takami keigo fanfiction #hawks x reader #hawks smut

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Nine

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, Language, Violence,

Word Count: 2.9K

A/n: Another chapter is finished!! I’ve got an idea but it’s SO DANGEROUS AND Y’ALL MIGHT HATE ME IF I DO IT BUT ITS SO TEMPTING AND I THINK I’M GONNA DO IT ahem anyway I hope you guys enjoy this!

A/n 2: I’m posting this before work so I’ll reply to asks and comments when I get home tonight! Also, I’ve got the next part of Gangsta written up if y’all want that.... hehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“How have you been adjusting to this new home?” Thor asks one morning, a smile on his face. You grin back at him, the weight of Acadia lifted off your shoulders as you take a sip of your tea.

“Quite well. Although Loki has been an interesting addition.” The raven-haired man looks up from his book momentarily and gives you a look, to which you only smile.

From the moment you entered the cottage you knew it would be good for you to stay here.

“Well, we are at your disposal. I will have to go back to Asgard within the weeks to come, but Loki and the Valkyrie shall remain here should you need or want them.” You nod gratefully, looking out the window and pursing your lips as you watch the women spar outside.

“What? What is it?” Thor asks, following your gaze.

“I want to learn to defend myself. To wield a sword and fight off an attacker.” Loki scoffs from where he sits, his nose still buried deep in his book.

“For what reason should a queen wish to learn to fight? You will always have men for that.” Your defence is up in an instant, and you clench your jaw before composing yourself enough to reply.

“I do think that considering both my upbringing and the way I have been treated in my new kingdom, I have every right to want to learn to defend myself. I have many reasons to want to defend myself, none of which concern you, however, if you had the slightest idea of all that I have endured in my short time as queen you would not question me wanting to learn to defend myself. I have been shunned from my palace because my husbands fear someone will kill me. My own husbands have brought me far more pain than I would like to admit. I have every right to wish to learn how to defend myself and I will not hear a word from you about the subject!”

His brows raise to nearly his hairline and he looks between you and his brother before burying his nose back in his book, which elicits a chuckle from the blond king.

“If the situation is so severe that I need be sent away for my own safety, I need to learn to defend myself.”

Thor nods, a strong hand patting your shoulder comfortingly.

“I knew there was a fire in you. I could see it in those eyes when you spoke of running from the Kings. I just needed to find it.” He rises to his feet and straightens his clothing. “Loki does have a special talent for pulling the fire from even the most docile creatures. But I will go speak with the valkyrie. They will be delighted to have a student to train.”

He leaves the cottage to interrupt the sparring outside, and you feel your heart skip a beat at the first piece of control that you will have over your life.

~*~

“If that will be all, You are dismissed,” King Steven says, his voice low and exhausted. The royal adviser bows then heads to the door, hesitating for a moment.

“Forgive me, Your Majesties, but I cannot help but notice the absence of the Queen. Where has she gone?” It’s not the first time they’ve gotten the question in the week that you've been gone, therefore they already have their excuse rehearsed and perfected.

“We simply have no use for her. If she cannot even bear our children then what use is she to us?” Comes Steve’s practiced response.

“We were instructed to find a queen who could produce strong heirs. Our wife cannot. So she is no longer of use to us,” James adds, his voice dripping in boredom as he looks over a document on his desk.

The royal advisor nods then excuses himself, bustling to his own office with newfound haste and purpose.

“It’s been a week and we are no closer to finding who it is than we were when she was here,” Steve murmurs after a long moment of silence, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their decision.

“I’m beginning to question whether it was a good decision to send her along with Thor. Especially after he threatened to make her a queen of his own. What if she were to agree?” James stands up and walks over to his husband, taking his shaking hands in his own and sighing.

“I would not blame her if she were to agree. We have treated her like a prisoner. I have... brutalized her and beaten her and I will never be able to repent. If she were to want him I would in no way blame her. He has provided her with a safe haven. She can confide in him and trust him in a way that she may not be able to again with us.” Steve sniffles and squeezes his eyes shut.

“We need to find who it is that has caused this and we need to make them pay.” James nods, smoothing his thumbs over the back of his husband’s hands.

“We will. But until we do, we must remain strong. The Doctor is recovering and when he is fully recovered we will ask him who it was that attacked him. We will find who is behind this, but we must be patient.”

~*~

“Again!” You raise your sword just in time to block a blow from one of the Valkyrie, grinding your teeth together as you push her back a step then swipe your own sword at her throat.

She hops backward, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You are learning, Your Majesty. But you still hold back. Why? You cannot be afraid to hurt us,” The Captain says, walking forward and looking at you closely.

“You must show no mercy. Not when you must choose between your own life and the life of someone who means to do you harm. You will fight and you will fight to the death.”

Your entire body is burning with the exertion but you hold your ground, raising your sword and ready to go again.

“That’s what I like to see! Now, we go again!” Brunnhild exclaims, a grin on her face as she takes her fighting stance.

It’s just over two weeks since you began your training and everyone is surprised at how quickly you’re picking up on what’s being taught, but none more than you.

You’re just stepping out of the bath, muscles aching with a new type of strength that the Valkyrie have been beating into you, when your eyes catch a glimpse of movement at the window to your bedroom. A figure clad in all black is moving swiftly away from the cottage and disappearing into the darkness of woods, the setting sun aiding in the camouflage of the person.

Thinking that it’s none other than Loki going to wreak havoc on some poor defenceless wanderers, you don’t question it. Instead, you get dressed into a soft Asgardian gown and start preparing yourself for bed.

You’re just about ready to settle down with a book when a flash of white catches your eye from the window. You hesitantly investigate, heart hammering in your chest as you see a letter tucked securely in the window.

You open it and snatch the envelope before it can be taken by the wind, then shut the window again.

The seal on the envelope is that of Acadia, and your heart is in your throat as you realize that this could very well be a letter from the Kings. You’ve no idea what it may say, and cannot decide if you are more nervous or excited as you open it.

The script is not one you recognize, but your eyes greedily devour every word, the smile fading from your face at what lies on the page in your hand.

Thor finds you sometime later seated on the floor, the letter gripped tightly in your hands and your eyes focused on a point on the wall.

“(Y/n?” He asks softly, knocking against the doorframe to try and get your attention. You make no indication that you’ve heard him.

He enters the room, brows furrowed as he sees what you’re holding. “What is that? What does it say? Is it from the Kings?”

It takes a very long moment, but eventually, you find the strength to speak. But even then your voice is a weak rasp.

“Did you know the truth? Did you hide it from me as well?” Thor is beyond confused as he approaches you, taking the page from you and reading through the contents quickly.

‘Your Majesty,

Do not ask who I am nor how I know where you are, just know that you need be more careful who it is you call your lovers. They have sent you away, not for your own protection but because you failed at the task they wanted you for. They have sent you away because you failed to bear their children, this I promise I have heard with my own ears. I know not what they have told you but it is what I have witnessed. They have said this directly and I have heard it with my very own ears. You would do well to stay away from them, for they are dangerous. But I am certain that you and your late child are more than aware of that.

Consider this a warning, your majesty, for I know you are unsafe. You must take care and be far more careful of who you allow in your court.’

“Loki!” The prince is in the room within the same moment, his eyes full of confusion.

“Have the Valkyrie secure the area and find me the man who sent this! Travel to Acadia and alert the Kings. The Queen is no longer safe here.”

You’re confused. If the kings have directly told someone this, why then is Thor responding in such a way?

Loki is on horseback heading towards Acadia only moments later, and Thor is leaving the room as soon as the Valkyrie enter.

Brunnhild crouches next to you, a frown on her face as she glances at the note on the floor, its words echoing in your ears.

“Do not allow this to scare you, Your majesty. Do not give them the satisfaction of that.” You scoff and shake your head at her, “it is far easier said than done. All my life I have been punished for ever speaking, much less standing my ground. I have perfected the art of cowering, for men wish to do nothing but hurt and maim all so they can gain power.”

She sits down and shakes her head, taking your hand in hers and squeezing it tightly.

“You forget that we are all brought into this world through blood and through pain, your Majesty. We are the daughters of savage women. We are their savage daughters and we will act like it. We will bite and scream and we will take up space. We will not conform to their ideas of what women should be.” Her words are whispered into the still air of the room as if she were hiding them from any listening ears.

“Do not lower your voice for any man. Do not cower beneath them. You are a powerful being. One that can create life and you can also take it away, never forget that.” She pulls a dagger off of her belt and hands it to you, curling your fingers around the hilt before she continues speaking.

“You have the blood of goddesses and witches flowing through your veins. You hold a power that men could never understand. With every step we take, every time we refuse to cower... we honour our mothers, our grandmothers, and the ones before them. The ones who stood and fought and were torn to pieces. We will not be silenced. You will not be silenced. You are more powerful than that. You must remember your strength and your power. Do not let the men convince you that you are anything less than what you are.”

Your eyes sting and your throat gets tight, but she only hugs your shoulders and continues speaking.

“Your power is what scares them. Why else would they try to assert their dominance in such a way? But you will not fall. You will not allow them to treat you like that because you are the daughter of a savage. You are yourself a savage woman and you will act like it. Royal title be damned.”

You sniffle once, twice, three times, then nod, wiping your eyes just as Thor re-enters the room.

The Valkyrie take their leave and the King sighs, crouching down next to you and gently stroking your cheek.

“I’m so very sorry, Petal. You are no longer safe here. If someone was able to bring you this letter then I fear you are in far more danger than we had thought. The conspiracy against the Kings runs far deeper than any of us could have anticipated, and if we are to keep you safe then we must act quickly.” He pulls you to your feet and bustles around quickly, covering your shoulders in a thick cloak and packing a bag of your belongings.

“Wait, where do you mean to take me? If I am not safe anywhere?”

He tosses your bag over his shoulder and grabs your hand, entwining your fingers and giving your hand a soft squeeze.

“The only place you will truly be safe.” You’re still quite confused.

“We make for Asgard.”

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listentothisyoooh · 3 years

Text

Care For You; BC

A/N: This piece is +18, minors do not interact.

Summary: You come home from work, only to find your boyfriend, Chris, exhausted and drained. What can you say, when he asks you to make him feel better in your own special ways?

Warnings: sub Chan, soft dom female reader, hand jobs, orgasm control, edging, ropes, dirty talk, use of nicknames (mistress, little, pup, angel, etc), mention of the color system --

Word Count: 4.2k

“Hey, hi baby!” You whispered, sitting down on the edge of the mattress next to Chan’s rigid body, “When did you get home?” Caressing the tangled, short platinum blond locks sprawled on the pillow, you smiled down at his puffy, tired face; it probably wasn’t a good thing that you weren’t answered by a smile.

“An hour, I guess.” He rasped, his cords rugged with sleepiness and something else –something you didn’t quite like. The cool, white sheets covered him up to his shoulders, leaving no patch of pale skin open for your sight, and the faded shade of raspberry on his perky lips further demonstrated just how tired the man was.

“Oh honey,” You cooed, leaning over Chan to plant a kiss on his temple while he lay on his side, facing where you sat, “you seem exhausted. Are you alright? Did something happen?” You couldn’t really help the way your brows knotted as a sign of worry. Using arms as pillars next to your boyfriend’s figure, you bowed above him; ceiling cream lights now blocked away from his sight and he could look up at you with those wide, glossy eyes, the peachy gleam of the bedside lamp reflecting from them.

“I’m okay, babe, don’t worry;” He assured, settling on his back gently, “It was just—a very, very long day!” A light laugh puffing out of him, he pulled on the sheets to conceal the lower part of his face from you, eyes still locked with yours. Chan was always soft –so soft, gentle and sweet, and that was why you just couldn’t stop showering him with light, lingering touches, one now being granted for him across his left cheekbone and the side of his eye by your thumb; he seemed to really enjoy it, lids flowing down and expression turning into a relaxed, almost blank one.

“Anything I can do, Channie?” Your gentle question fluttered his eyes open, “want me to make you something? Or get you some pills to help you sleep?” Sometimes, when he was too spent, it became frustratingly difficult for him to fall asleep, so it wouldn’t be far from ordinary if he were to have the same problem now; puffy eyes, flushed cheeks and tousled locks only asked for a bit of rest.

“Can you take care of me?” His quiet voice rose from beneath the sheets, his linear eyes staring right into yours, making your chest quiver alongside that innocent little request.

“Of course!” You smiled, “What do you need? I can give you a massage…” Your suggestion was met with his negative nod, the grips over the edge of the cover tightening.

“No,” He gulped, “can you take care of me, mistress?” There was already a certain breathlessness in his words which only made you grit your teeth; he looked so devastatingly vulnerable, looking up at you with hope, exhaustion and plea in his stare.

“Aren’t you a little too tired for that, pup?” Was the last thing you wanted to say to him, the last thing he wanted to hear too; shaking his head no, Chan squirmed in place while waiting for you to answer to the desperate request in a way that would satisfy both of you.

Instead, you just smiled. Cupping his right, warm cheek, you lightly pinched its plumpness and traced your hand lower unto his neck and chest, pulling that nuisance of a fabric away from those beautiful lips and skin. He visibly gulped at your movements –at being scanned by your sharp eyes, but made no objections whatsoever; the easy compliance egged you on to inch his figure further southwards, fingers dancing on the white sheet. It seemed like he was bare under the covers, and when your hand finally clasped at the side of his right thigh and absorbed the gentle body heat, your assumptions turned out to be accurate, slapping a smirk on your face.

“Are you naked, little?” You asked, stare switching between Chan’s agape lips and anticipating, bright eyes; he did nothing, as if waiting for your sly hand to figure that out itself. “Why is that?” Your gentle tone tried to coax the words out of the man, “Were you being naughty when I was at work?”

“No!” It was adorable how the reply cut off his quiet sigh, being shot out to convince you, “No, I was just waiting for you, and… I fell asleep.” He explained, his covered chest heaving out of slight nervousness. A light chuckle sprang out of you while you flew down to peck his pretty lips.

“Relax, pup; I believe you.” You assured, “It would be fine if you did, though;” Leaning down on your elbow, you peppered lingering kisses near his mouth, your free hand caressing his bicep from over the covers, “you’ve been so good lately—you deserve a treat, both from me and yourself.” By the way his cheek flexed under your lips, you could tell he was smiling. “So, let’s give you a treat then, angel!” He shivered when your breath rubbed on the sensitive spot under his ear.

As soon as you backed away and got off of the bed, Chan rose up to sit on his butt and see what you were doing, the white cover dropping unto his lap; knowing that you’re being watched, you made your way to the small, antique chest placed on top of a console table next to your closet, and opened its lid, eyes immediately landing on the dark jade bundle of silk rope as well as the small tube of expensive, cinnamon scented lubricant, both of them sitting brazenly over the extra pile of naughty toys and accessories! You grabbed the objects with content, having already formed a plan in your head while expecting eyes bore into your back; you threw the equipment on the mattress right next to the man’s feet, fighting back a smirk when your short glance caught him staring at them and gulping. The chair next to the ajar door welcomed your buttoned shirt and jeans to leave you alone with the tight red top and black panties, watching you silently set a course to your boyfriend back on the bed.

“Are you feeling verbal today?” You asked the young man whose eyes obviously swayed over your figure without any intention. It took a dazed, short while for Chan to answer, but he finally did after a gulp and pursing his lips.

“I don’t know…” He shook his head when you sat in front of his folded legs on the mattress, putting a calf between your locations; his slumped, pale body was screaming for your attention in the most innocent way possible, which wasn’t all that rare for the man, as he, deep down, was very innocent, despite what he liked to show his fans and or had to portray of himself because of his career and his position in their group. It hadn’t really been mentioned yet, but you were aware of the heartwarming fact that you were the only person entrusted with this side of his character –a side he himself cherished dearly yet had always tried to suppress, until meeting you, of course.

“Well then,” You caressed his puffy cheek, pressing your forehead on his and giving him an Eskimo kiss, “we just have to find out, I guess!” Your soft chuckle mixed with the one Chan let out, and you found the moment intimate and soothing enough to begin kissing the man, allowing his passionate lips to gently dance over yours for a while before adding your tongue into the mixture and earning light huffs and sighs from his waving throat.

“Fold your arms on each other.” Guiding his hands, you helped him hold his left forearm in front of his abdomen and place the right one on top of it, wrapping his fingers around his elbows to show satisfaction for the plan; catching the wait in the slouched figure, you got a grip of the ropes behind your rear and started your rather enticing mission of binding the man’s arms together, knots and rings gently kissing his pale skin.

He was more than compliant, once or twice pecking your face when you leaned too close to tighten a knot or readjust a bundle; his breaths were even yet deep, and in between all of that, you could clearly witness a tent forming on the sheet sprawled on his lap, slow yet bold. His mind was taken by your scent, the close but still far away heat of your embrace, and he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to your light, accidental contacts across his arms; dear lord, was he touch-starved!

“All good?” You asked, finally finished with your work. His simple nod was good enough of an answer.

The brightness which reflected from the white covers on the bed turned him even paler and that allowed the jade rope to show off its elegant color on Chan’s bare figure. He looked stunning, blond hair sticking out in this direction or that, lips swollen and red from the excessive nervous biting; there was nothing holding you back from lifting up his chin and crashing your mouth unto his, having him nailed in place by a heavy grip on his thigh. He huffed over your face shakily as your hand plowed in between his locks which you now realized were damp; he must’ve showered after coming home from the studio, you guessed.

“You like this rope; don’t you, puppy?” You giggled, leaving a gentle kiss on his perky bottom lip, trailing down to his jaw and throat while pulling his head back. “Is it the fabric? Or the color?” Your question drowned in the dip of his neck vein as you sucked lightly on it, hearing him whimper impatiently and wriggle in place.

“Color.” He replied simply, trying to gulp with the uncomfortable position of his head. Your tongue, tracing wet lines on the distinct veins and bulges beneath his sensitive skin, made him tense uncontrollably; he was already so worked up, despite being tired.

“Yeah?” Your teasing tone sent a shiver into his shoulders, “I was thinking about getting you that mini wand vibrator you showed me the other day –the jade one…” Looking back up into his eyes, he panted lightly, “Good, yeah?” He nodded once again, not trusting his voice to make an appearance, making you smile with adoration, “What’s so special about jade anyway?” The man’s heart-rate suddenly picked up and he leaned his forehead above your ear out of embarrassment for what he was gonna confess to.

“It was the color of your underwear the first time you… um—the first time I met mistress!” He tried his best to voice his explanation in the least flustering way, however hard it was. The confession was accompanied by his little hiss when you giggled and dragged the covers off of his figure, making sure it created the slowest, roughest amount of friction and grip.

“Oh, right…!” You mused, pulling your head away only inches; he didn’t seem too pleased about that, but watching you lean forward on your left arm nailed next to his hip and looking up at him with a little smile was all he could think about at the moment. Your index finger on the free hand began drawing circles on his hard tip, “That was a good night, wasn’t it baby?” He was too busy staring into your eyes with knotted brows and a bitten lip, obviously tensing to prevent from moving under your touch; seeing his composure, you massaged the head of his member with your thumb and index finger, gliding them down to its edge and dragging back up without haste but with good pressure. “You were bad, really bad—remember?” Smirking, at the way he kept pursing his lips while looking down at you, you came to the conclusion that he probably wasn’t going to be verbal that day; he rarely was, to be honest –only when he was too pent up or maybe too cocky, which didn’t happen all that often, but it was worth the experiment. He might not have liked to be talkative at these times, but he damn sure liked being talked to; he had admitted so more than once, dialogues and monologues being half of the pleasure for him.

Gluing your lips on his chin, you felt him shake as the tip of your finger pressed unto his red slit and slid back and forth, eliciting short whimpers from his agape mouth; he squirmed and squirmed but with no apparent aim, since he neither tried to settle efficiently under your teasing touch, nor did he back away from it to protest. He kept staring at you as if there was something he awaited, gulping and gulping and gulping!

“Lie back and spread your legs for me, sweetie.” You crawled back to grant the man space for his task, the one he fulfilled right after hearing your command.

The now cool spot on the mattress welcomed his muscly back and the sheets straightened when his feet dragged away from each other to make a perfectly fitting nest in between his thighs for you. He had to strain his neck to look over at you, so you decided to help him out by hovering above his torso and grabbing your own pillow to jam it behind his shoulders, creating a better angle for his vision. It was the hardest thing to resist kissing his beautiful lips and you saw no point in it anyway, diving down to steal a few noisy, wet pecks from your boyfriend, retreating into your place near his groin next.

“Mistress has taught you well, hasn’t she?” You purred, kneeling between his legs and sliding them over your thighs to earn the closest spot possible, “You used to be so hesitant –so, so impatient too,” He kept licking his lips while gazing at you, his deep breaths egging you on, “but now look at you; a good,” Your palms slowly wrapped around his length and started screwing over its upper and lower half in opposite directions, “good little angel for me.” His head tossed back from the combination of your words and movements; he was fully hard and flushed.

A low whine echoed in the room when you detached your hands from him and grabbed the lonely bottle from over the mattress instead; the moment its contents poured on your palm and released their exotic scent, a breathy, whisper of your nickname rose also, Chan staring down at what you were holding. He was crazy about this smell –this certain smell that had always awakened a comfortable haziness inside him, enough to make it impossible for him to stand being in the dorm when Felix was baking croissants; it almost acted like an aphrodisiac for him, you had yet to understand why, and it would be a lie if one were to say you didn’t abuse this little effect!

“Red if it gets too much, yellow if you need a breath.” You repeated his safe words, earning a nod, and went back to clasping your palms on his member just like before, copying the same motion again; he shut his eyes with content, sighing when your warmth finally touched him, drenched in a scent he loved dearly.

In a matter of seconds, he was already mewling, dripping with precum, disheveled locks being plunged into the pillows. His state only worsened when your fingers formed a thin ring and placed it right beneath the prominent edge of his tip and started the classic vibrating motion on its ablaze nerves; a motion he had grown used to, no matter how torturous it was. Giving him short intervals, you managed to earn a glimpse of his face when he looked back down on your hand, eyes narrow and cheeks flushed –his entire upper body flushed.

“Am I bothering you, Christopher?” Hearing his complete name, he clenched his jaw and shook his head violently, most displeased with the full stop of your hands.

“No, no mistress, keep going!” His words were rushed and hoarse as he took a second to recount what he had said, “Could you continue?” He restructured his sentence after witnessing the raise of your brow, and his heaving chest, his sweet, calm voice was just too good to be ignored.

“Ah!” You cooed, “Such a polite little pup, huh? You’ve learned how to earn my favor, haven’t you? Yes, you have, gorgeous!” He was already too far away from sanity to comprehend your praises as your once again vibrating fingers knocked moans out of him one after another, having his legs wrap around your hips with the constant, cruel edging.

He couldn’t decide between watching the scene of your connection or throwing his head back to slap whimpers at the headboard; when he landed eyes on your hands skillfully tapping on the underside of his aching length through palms, all he could think of was finishing right then and there –it was shameful, how sensitive he was to the littlest of touches.

“Hey!” Your stern voice brought him back to his senses, making him stop gritting his teeth and look back down at you, “No hurting yourself!” Your frown confused him, your words too, but when you gestured towards his hands with the raise of your brows, he got the message; he’d become so lost in the on and off of the pleasure in his gut that he’d forgotten to notice the sharp pain of his nails digging into the side of his elbow.

This was the best opportunity –no, excuse, to frustrate him in the ways he liked, or usually did; you could only hope he’d like it now, too. Sliding your hands off of his weeping length, you kept a hard gaze on his linear, shiny eyes and placed your hands limp on your thighs, palms upwards to avoid leaving the mess of lube and precum on yourself.

“I told you never to hurt yourself, didn’t I?” His flushed face fell at your words, catching the serious worry on your features, “Don’t you wanna be good, Christopher?”

God, he hated his name when it left your mouth! He hated being called by his name when it came to you, because it never meant anything good. He felt cold all of a sudden, without your touch or a trace of your affection, and being naked was much, much more embarrassing. His chest was already heaving.

“I do!” He managed to voice out, awkwardly hoarse, “I am good, Mistress; always!” After all this time, it still flustered him to call you that certain name.

“Then why did you ignore my explicit order?” Yes, you were making a much bigger deal out of this than it was; the marks weren’t even deep, he knew that, you knew that.

“It won’t happen again –you have my word, Mistress… Please—“ He stopped to gulp past his dry throat, still looking into your soul with pleading eyes; he looked so tired, yet he never once dreamed of protesting –not to your work anyway.

“Please what, boy?” Your question had its sharp edges –sharper than Chan liked it. Was there any affection in boy? None he could feel, no –it felt colder than his own name.

“I wanna be good for Mistress;” He breathed out with knotted brows, “can I have one more chance? Please, I want—“ His arms wiggled desperately in between the rope, “I need to cum—“ He could feel fire searing his ears, “Can I, please? Only Mistress knows how to give that to me…” Was it enough? Did he have to go deeper? He couldn’t tell based off of your blank expression.

“Hmm…” A smile creept on your face just as the hum was released from your throat, “Such good manners!” You praised, lifting one hand to lightly drag over his pale, beautifully shaped thigh and finally plant around his cock again –a short gasp being his response, “Such a well-behaved little cub!” He clearly twitched at that! Your palm dragged up and down his veins and he was once again, jelly at your touch, “Who taught this little pup how to be so good and polite?” His moan interrupted your question when your other hand wrapped two fingers around the sensitive edge of his tip. One second he’d push his hips into the mattress to desert your touch, and the other, he’d push up to pump into your airy fist. “Christopher!”

“Mistress did!” His shaky answer came only after your call brought him back to earth and snapped his eyes open. “Only Mistress can tell pup to be good –he always listens to you, only you Mistress—oh, fuck, don’t stop –please!” His sweet voice became high-pitched whines as soon as the ring of fingers around his tip began vibrating again; squirming and spasming uncontrollably, he began throwing his hips up to feel more than the brush of your thumb on his base and the vibration of your fingers on his moistened head. “No—no no, ’m gonna cum—is it okay? Can—“ The hoarse groans piercing his mewls wouldn’t let him finish his thoughts, and your fingers weren’t helping his intellect either!

The bulging veins on his stretched back neck were ripe for marking and the way his pale skin had become many shades redder out of frustration and tension could only mean one thing: he’s few seconds away from covering his stomach with white.

What was cuter than normal, day-to-day Chris, was this Chris; the one writhing and begging and whining under the gentlest touch you could grant him –the one actually able to cum from that meager touch! His voice wouldn’t lower, making way for shameless babbles and incoherent pleas, and you just wanted to put him –and your cramping hand– out of misery.

“It’s okay, Little,” You murmured, still able to reach his ear from between his own noises, “you can cum in five…” Hearing the start of his countdown, Chan lowered his head to look at you, just like all the times he was close; he wanted to see you, and more importantly, he wanted you to see him lose it all. “Four…”

“Count faster!” His fingers were now somehow wrapped in the thick threads of the rope and tugged roughly; you could feel the way the mattress dipped eagerly behind you as Chan’s feet pressed on it with curled toes.

“Three…” You smirked, knowing full well his need for ‘being good’ is way more prioritized to his body than getting what he wants. He could always take what you gave him –every single time; he loved and yearned for the care that came after his success, he wouldn’t change it with anything. “Two…” A small, ecstatic mewl left him when your thumb caressed his slit rhythmically, body trembling out of the little stimulation that was successfully driving him insane.

“One.”

He managed to keep his teary eyes open as his mouth fell apart wider and wider for a scratchy moan to swim into the room with nothing holding it back whatsoever; a big, irritating knot came finally undone in his burning stomach and then there it was, hot strings of white connecting the skin of his purple tip to his abs, your fingers still delicately wrapped around his twitching cook.

There was a gentle thump when he let his head fall on the pillow and the way his chest rose and fell seemed kind of painful; he, on the other hand, looked as blissed out as he possibly could, sweat gleaming on his temples.

“Everything okay?” You massaged his member carefully to help it soften sooner and when your hands eventually left him, he huffed out.

“I’m good, all good.” He panted, glancing down at you lazily, catching your satisfied smile.

His mind kept slipping in and out of reality, and the next thing he felt was the warmth of a kiss on his forehead as cold, wet wipes danced on his belly.

“You did so well.” You whispered, taking advantage of the close vicinity, “Take a nap. I’ll order some food and we can watch something later before bed.” His hazy eyes stared up at you, nodding when your fingers slid over the knots over his biceps to rid him of the restraints.

“Is noodle soup okay?” You asked as your steps lead you to the chest to put back the items you’ve retrieved earlier, “Or maybe we should get tomato?” Turning around, you were met with the unconscious figure of your boyfriend, half covered with white sheets, face as puffy and soft as spring clouds.

You couldn’t help but coo and return to his side to pull the sheets higher over his naked body, and when he made no movement at your touch, you just knew he was knocked out cold; and that meant he’d be up in two-three hours, hungry as a starved wolf, and he will need any kind of food he can find –so soup is probably not the best idea to satisfy Bang Christopher Chan!

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