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ms-rampage · 2 months

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Saints leader! Kenneth Smith (OC) x Y/n (F!reader)

Authors note: This is my first time writing an OC x Y/n fic. This was originally written for my OC Paige, but changed it. Also, I didn't proofread, did my best 😅😅😅

Requested by @bellathephoenix

Word count: lost track, probably 2k.

Warnings: Language. Smut. Mentions of drug use. Mentions of baby trapping. Degradation. Gothic stripper reader?. Saints Leader Kenneth is a lot more manipulative, possessive, and an overall asshole compared to any other version of him. COD Kenneth would hate him.

Ai "art" of Saints leader Kenneth

Being the leader of the 3rd Street Saints wasn't always easy, but it did have its pros. Being able to take over the city of Steelport since they weren't able to go back to Stillwater. Make themselves home here.

Kenneth Smith, the charming and charismatic leader, who was once a respected Canadian Army lieutenant, turned to the dark side and became a notorious gang leader who demanded respect. Making sure he was feared by many. He wanted to be seen as a king, but even a king needed his queen.

Him along with his two of his lieutenants. Pierce and Shaundi stand by his side as they plot to take over Steelport and eliminate all other rival gangs.

S.T.A.G included who's been arresting and killing anyone involved in any of the city gangs.

"Those assholes has been a thorn in our side for far too long," he growled. "But we'll deal with them soon enough."

Once they had their plan settled against S.T.A.G and all the other gangs, they headed to the penthouse for the party. Alcohol, drugs, and strippers waiting.

He stood up from his chair and they made their way towards the penthouse, followed closely by his lieutenants and an entourage of loyal Saints members.

They exit the elevator leading into the penthouse. The smell of alcohol, expensive cigars, and a variety of scents. Images and acts of debauchery.

Kenneth's eyes swept over the scene before him, taking in the sights and sounds of the decadent party. He smiled approvingly, pleased with how things were progressing.

Saint members having a great time at the party. Various members getting lap dances and participating in various acts that involve sex and drugs. He watched from a distance, enjoying the spectacle of his members letting loose and living it up. He allowed himself a moment of indulgence, sipping on a glass of expensive scotch and surveying the scene. "It's good to be king." he says to himself.

He stands at the top of the stairs, watching everyone. Scanning the room, his eyes landed on one stripper in particular. Long black hair, dark makeup, pale skin wearing black skimpy lace lingerie, very revealing. A gothic beauty.

His eyes locked onto the gothic beauty, a smirk playing at his lips. He made his way through the crowd, his presence commanding attention even when he didn't try to assert it. "Well, well."

She stood out from the other strippers. All the other girls wore bright colors and had some sort of cliché gimmick.

His voice lowered to a silky murmur as he approached her. "I think you're my favorite kind of woman."

She spins on the pole before realizing who had approached her. "Really? Is that so?." she asks, a smirk on her lips.

He smirked back, his eyes never leaving hers. "Absolutely. You're the perfect kind of woman to keep a man entertained."

She's much more attractive up close. "Oh, I can definitely entertain you in many different ways." she purrs, undoing her top, revealing X shaped pasties covering her nipples.

His eyes glittered with hunger and anticipation as he watched her remove her top. "I think you might be my favorite entertainer in this entire room," he murmured. "Come here, beautiful.". She gets off the small stage, now standing in front of him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her body against his. His free hand traced delicate patterns on her exposed skin, his thumb teasingly brushing over one of her hardened nipples. "You're even better than I imagined."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." she teases him.

Kenneth chuckled softly, his lips brushing against her ear. "Only the ones who deserve it," he murmured. "And I think you're about to find out just how much I mean that."

She bites her lip and gently pushes him onto a recliner near where she was dancing. Now, giving him a lap dance.

His eyes grew darker as he watched her perform her sensual dance, his breath coming faster. His hands reached out to grab her hips, pulling her closer to him. "Fuck, you're something else."

"You can have any girl dance on you, and you chose the weird one." she murmurs into his ear as the music gets louder, and party gets rowdier.

He chuckle vibrated through her body as he held onto her hips, his arousal clear even through the fabric of his pants. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "You're not weird, you're fucking perfect."

She notices and touches his erect member through his slacks. His eyes widened slightly at the surprise touch, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his grip on her hips tightened, pulling her closer. "So... impatient." he murmured. "I like that."

*a few days later*

"You won't regret it, sir." Her voice low and seductive.

His lips curled into a predatory grin, his hand tightening on Y/n's waist "I doubt that, my dear. I never regret my conquests."

She giggled, her head tilting slightly to the side. "Oh? Well then, let's go see what you've been missing out on." She took a step back, letting her body sway enticingly as she looked him up and down.

Kenneth's eyes followed her swaying body, a predatory glint in his eyes. He stepped closer to her, his hand running down her arm, before wrapping it around her waist once more. "Lead the way," he purred, his lips hovering close to her ear.

Y/n smirked and started walking towards a nearby alleyway, her hips swaying in a hypnotic rhythm. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes filled with mischief. "Don't worry, I won't bite... too hard."

Kenneth chuckled darkly, his hand tightening on her waist "I'm counting on that, Y/n." As they entered the alleyway, he pushed her against the wall, his lips descending upon hers in a bruising kiss.

She moaned into the kiss, her body melting against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as their tongues danced together. Her lips were warm and inviting, teasing him with a taste of what was to come.

Kenneth's hand slid up Y/n's back, tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss. He growled low in his throat, his other hand trailing down her side possessively.

Her breath hitched as she felt his hands on her, her body arching into his touch. She broke the kiss with a soft gasp, her forehead resting against his. "Take me home with you," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked down at her, his eyes glinting with an almost predatory gleam. "I thought you'd never ask," he replied smoothly, his hand slipping from her waist to the small of her back as he led her out of the alleyway.

She followed him out of the alleyway, her heart racing with anticipation. She couldn't believe she was actually going home with a client, let alone one as handsome, intriguing, and powerful as Kenneth.

He led her to his private, luxurious apartment on the other side of Steelport. Getting into his Bugatti and driving beyond the speed limit. When they get to his place, the lights dim and soft music playing in the background. He poured them both a glass of expensive wine before taking her by the hand and leading her towards his bedroom.

She followed him into the dimly lit bedroom, her eyes widening at the opulence of it all. She couldn't believe she was in this kind of luxury, let alone with a man like Kenneth.

He locked the door behind them and turned to face her, his eyes hungrily roaming over her body. He took another sip of his wine before setting it down on a nearby table. "Now, Y/n." he purred, taking a step closer to her.

Y/n watched him warily, her pulse racing. She knew what she was getting into and was more than willing to play along, but she wasn't about to make it easy for him.

"You know what I want, and I think you're going to enjoy it." He reached out and slowly ran his fingers down her bare arm, sending shivers up her spine. "Don't fight it, Y/n. This is your chance to live like royalty."

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She met his gaze head-on, a mixture of fear and desire flashing in her eyes. "I'm not afraid of a little danger," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the music.

Kenneth smiled at her bravado, but there was an edge to his expression that made it clear he wasn't someone to be trifled with. "Good," he said simply, taking another step closer. "Because I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

She braced herself for his advance, her body tense with anticipation. She was no stranger to danger or the darker side of life, but there was something about him that made her feel both terrified and electrified.

He pressed his body against hers, his lips inches from her ear as he whispered, "You're going to be mine, Y/n. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

She shivered at his words, feeling the heat of his body against hers. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but the thrill of it was too much to resist. "I'm all yours," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

He took her words as a challenge, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "Good," he growled, pulling her closer and kissing her passionately. His hands roamed over her body, teasing and caressing as he pushed her boundaries further.

She melted into the kiss, losing herself in the heat of the moment. She gasped as his hands moved lower, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh between her thighs. She wanted to resist, but the fire in her belly was too powerful to ignore.

Kenneth smirked, pleased with her response. "You like that, don't you?" he whispered, stroking her with just the right amount of pressure. "I can give you more...so much more."

Y/n moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed. "Yes," she breathed, arching her back as he continued his ministrations. "Please...more."

He chuckled darkly, his fingers dipping inside her wetness. He teased her entrance before slowly pushing one finger inside, feeling her tightness around him. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned, beginning to thrust his finger in and out of her.

She gasped at the intrusion, both from the pleasure and the pain. She bit her lip, trying to keep from crying out as he took her. She wanted this man, but she knew there would be consequences for giving in to him completely.

Kenneth didn't care about the consequences. He was used to getting what he wanted, and now that he had Y/n within his grasp, nothing was going to stop him. His thumb brushed against her clit, driving her crazy with desire.

She cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure as she came undone around Kenneth's fingers. He was relentless, pushing her further and further into submission.

He smiled darkly as he felt her body shudder under his touch. He pulled his fingers out of her, watching the mix of pleasure and pain on her face. "You're fucking mine, Y/n." he growled, pushing his hard cock against her entrance.

With a cry, she felt her body being forced open by Kenneth's large, thick cock. It hurt, but the pleasure was too intense to resist. She bit her lip, trying to stay silent as he drove into her. He was claiming her, just as he warned he would.

He groaned as he felt her tightness squeeze around him. He began to thrust in and out, taking her with forceful strokes that left no doubt as to who was in control.

Y/n gasped with each thrust, her body bouncing against Kenneth's. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the intense sensations coursing through her. He was rough, demanding, but it was exhilarating in a way she'd never experienced before.

Kenneth took pleasure in the way Y/n reacted to his touch. He knew he had her right where he wanted her, and he wasn't about to let go anytime soon. His hips slapped against hers in a rhythm that was both violent and erotic.

Her body shook as his harsh movements drove her further into the depths of pleasure and pain. Her cries mingled with his grunts, creating a sensual symphony of lust and dominance.

He felt the walls of her pussy clenching around his cock, signaling her impending climax. He increased his pace, taking her harder and faster, determined to push her over the edge.

He took her violently, possessively, and aggressively.

Kenneth groaned, his fingers digging into Y/n's hips as he felt her walls pulsing around him. He continued to thrust in and out of her, claiming her body as his own.

Pinning her to the bed, fucking her stupid and submissive. "Such a good little whore." he growls.

He looked down at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're mine, sweetheart. Mine to fuck, mine to own." He continued to pound into her, his thrusts growing deeper and more forceful with each passing moment.

She whimpered as Kenneth's words sent shivers down her spine. She arched her back, surrendering to the intense sensations coursing through her body. Her nipples hardened under his rough hands, and she could feel herself getting wetter by the second.

He watched as Y/n's body responded to his touch, her breasts swelling under his palms. He moved one hand down to stroke her clit, rubbing it in a circular motion as he continued to thrust into her.

She cried out, her orgasm crashing down on her like a wave. Her body convulsed under Kenneth's, and she felt herself spasming around his cock.

He grinned as he felt her muscles tighten around him. "That's it, baby. Cum for daddy." he growled, pulling her closer to him as he continued his relentless assault on her body.

She screamed his name, lost in the vortex of pleasure and pain. She couldn't even process what was happening. All she knew was that she was his, and he was taking her in a way that left no doubts about their newfound connection.

He felt the walls of her pussy clenching around his cock as he finally reached his climax. He drove into her with one final, powerful thrust and let go, groaning loudly as he filled her up with his seed.

Y/n felt Kenneth's hot cum shooting into her womb, claiming her completely. She was his now, forever marked by this intense and primal experience.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. "You're mine now, Y/n. No one else's." He nuzzled his face into her neck, inhaling her scent. "And I'm never letting you go."

She lay beneath him, still trembling from the force of their encounter. She stared up at him, feeling her heart race at his words. This was something she had never expected or even wanted, but now that it was happening, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards him.

Kenneth ran his hand down her body, tracing the lines of her hips and thighs. "You're my little whore." he repeated, this time with a sense of ownership that made her shiver.

Y/n couldn't find the words to respond. All she could do was lay there, feeling his touch and wondering what this new chapter in her life held for her.

Slowly, he lifted himself off of Y/n, still maintaining eye contact with her. His cock twitched, leaving a slick trail of pre-cum on her stomach. "You will learn to respect me, Y/n."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, sir." Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it carried with it an unmistakable note of submission.

Kenneth's lips curled into a smirk. "Good girl," he murmured before turning away from her and pulling on his pants.

She watched him dress, her heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation. She couldn't help but wonder what he had planned for her next.

Her spun around, his gaze sweeping over Paige once more. "You know what you have to do now," he growled out.

She swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Yes, sir." She forced herself to stand up, her legs shaking slightly underneath her.

He stepped closer to her, his eyes boring into hers. "Don't forget who you belong to now," he warned before grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back forcefully.

Y/n let out a gasp as Kenneth's rough hand tangled in her hair. "I won't, sir." she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

Kenneth released her hair, satisfied with her response. "Good girl," he repeated before turning and walking out of the room, leaving her alone and trembling on the bed.

She stayed where she was, trying to calm her racing heart as she listened to Kenneth's footsteps fade away. She couldn't help but feel a sense of dread about what was coming next.

He walked down the hall, his mind already turning to the next task at hand. The Saints were growing stronger by the day, and he would stop at nothing to ensure their dominance.

Owning 80% of the city of Steelport. His hourly income being $23,000+, from owning properties and investing. Kenneth Smith is a rich and powerful man who can and will do and have whatever he wants. The Saints will own and run the city. As time went on. He he fucks Y/n every night, vaginally, anally or orally, he'll fuck her.

Kenneth chuckled darkly as he thought about their growing empire. The Third Street Saints were unstoppable, and everyone knew it. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction when he thought about how easily he controlled Y/n.

He turned a stripper into his personal fucktoy.

Kenneth grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with the unyielding power he held over others. He knew that fear was the most effective tool for control, and she was already trembling at the thought of disobeying him.

She shivered as she heard his footsteps fade away, her mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to her next. She hated him, but she couldn't deny the thrill she got from his twisted games.

His mind drifted back to Y/n, his cock already starting to stir once more. He had big plans for her, plans that would not only satisfy his desires but also further cement her place in the Saints' organization.

She sighed, her body feeling heavy and used. She hated herself for being so weak around him, but she couldn't help it. He had a hold on her that was almost impossible to break free from.

His smirk grew wider as he thought about the power he wielded over Y/n. He enjoyed seeing her squirm under his control, knowing that she was nothing but a puppet he could manipulate at will. In addition to her nightly "duties,"

Her weakness was a source of power for Kenneth. He enjoyed watching her squirm under his control, knowing that she was nothing but a pawn in his game. It gave him a sense of dominance and satisfaction to see her submit so willingly to his every whim.

He knew what he was doing. He was gonna baby-trap Y/n. She needed him, and she knew it. He chuckled darkly as he thought about Y/n's predicament. She was his now, and he had no intention of letting her go. As they lay together in the afterglow of their passion, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over him.

#oc: kenneth smith #saints row oc #sr3 oc #my oc #oc x y/n #saints row 3 oc #saints row the third #saints row the 3rd #saints row 4 #saints row iv #saints row 4 oc

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iloveyou-writers · 1 year

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This is a bit of a dumb concern of mine. So i post bits of my wip sometimes, but i'm noticing the very unfortunate pattern of people interacting with just stuff i reblog and not the stuff i post. And like... i know it's not about the notes, i'm just sharing for fun, but idk if it's because people don't like my stuff or if they just don't see it or what but it's a little discouraging. I'm not even gonna lie, the thought, "what's the point of me posting if no one's reading it anyway?" has crossed my mind several times. Just not sure if i should continue posting my stuff or give up on that.

I don't think it's a dumb concern, and I understand it's discouraging. I also understand wanting people to interact with your stories, you're not wrong for wanting that. You ought to just remind yourself that lack of engagement doesn't mean your stories aren't interesting, or that they're bad. It can also be hard to gather traction online.

I don't want you to give up, but I want you to do what feels right. If you decide to ease off on posting online for a while, I hope you keep writing. ♡

// D

What Nisey said. Honestly, it took me like 5 blogs and hundreds of posts before I started getting noticed. Part of it is in how you tag things, part of it is in how you talk about your writing. Sad to say, the popularity of your posts isn't necessarily about the quality of them. Sometimes just making a silly meme that everyone relates to will bring attention to your blog or making an ask game everyone can enjoy.

That said, it shouldn't just be about the engagement. Of COURSE as a writer you want people to be reading your writing but at the end of the day, what matters is your own love of your writing. If not getting the engagement you want is taking away from your enjoyment of writing your story, maybe step back from posting them and come up with a posting plan.

Honestly, the running of your blog should be all about what YOU want out of it. If your goal for your blog is more engagement, maybe try looking at what bigger blogs did to get more engagement and figuring out how you can incorporate it into your own blog and ideas.

If your goal is to have your writing out there for the world to see, you're already doing it, even if people aren't necessarily seeing it.

But the OTHER thing I wanted to point out other than all of this is just because you're not getting notes on these things, it doesn't mean people aren't reading and loving the crap out of your works. A shocking amount of readers are shy to comment when they read or interact with things they read, so sometimes you'll have a ton of readers you don't realize you have until you do or say just the right thing to get the shy person out of their shell. For me, it's been when I've shut down my blogs or when I've been struggling with my depression and they came out of the shadows to sweetly encourage me. But what would bring them out of their shells really depends on the reader.

One fun way to get more engagement is to make an ask game based off of your WIP or characters. Ask questions that pertain to your OCs and use your OCs names instead of letters and numbers. Or use the names of the societies named in your WIP. Things like that. It can be a fun way for information to be subtly passed around writeblr without you having to infodump.

You could add a little blurb at the end about your wip and tag "if you wanna know more about this world/wip/these characters, follow me at [blog]" at the end.

Hope this helps and you feel more of a fire in your belly. I'm sure you're doing much better than you feel. It's always easy to ignore the victories when they're not in the areas we wish they were 🥰

🤍 H

(Sorry for the long ranty reply. I've never given all this advice to anyone struggling with engagement before, but with how many asks we get about it, I figured it was about time to give some advice outside of "don't worry so much about engagement!")

#writers of tumblr #asks #anonymous #writing engagement

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 2 years

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Laundry and Taxes

Doctor Strange x OC, Doctor Strange x Female!Reader, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Flirting

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey remember when I said I'd have this finished soon three weeks ago? Blame Stranger Things.

Summary: “In another life, I would have loved to just do laundry and taxes with you.”

Word Count: 1.4K

A witch and a superhero walk into a laundromat…there had to be a joke somewhere in there. Somebody smarter than her could probably think of a good one. For the time being though, Cassandra would settle for the site of Doctor Stephen Strange M.D, Ph.D, trying very, very hard to sort laundry on his own.

“Not that one,” she said.

Strange stopped his hand mid-air, before looking down to the two seemingly indiscernible piles.

“It’s a shirt,” he said, blankly. “I’m putting it with the other shirts.”

“What heathen raised you?” She leaned over, pulling the tag out so he could see. “Wash on delicate isn’t just a suggestion. It allows the clothes to last longer. If I had the time, I’d wash them by hand. How do you think people wore the same clothes day in and day out for so many centuries?”

“Superior craftsmanship?” he suggested.

“Well, there is that.” She quickly snatched a stray pair of socks from the pile while she was at it. “And don’t throw this in with jeans. Socks can turn blue just as fast as they can pink.”

“I didn’t realize there are so many rules,” he noted, dryly.

“You would if you actually did your own laundry,” she countered. “When’s the last time you did it yourself anyway?”

Strange tilted his head from side to side in thought.

“College, freshman year…undergrad.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

He shrugged. “I had the benefit of roommates who liked to borrow my notes. Got me all the way through med school.”

She rolled her eyes as she pushed one of the now sorted piles into an empty basket. “Let me guess, after that you even sent your underwear to the cleaners?”

“Why do I feel like you’re placing a moral judgment on my character?”

“Oh hush, it’s not as bad as all that,” she said. “We’ll just add it to the long list of life experiences I have over you.”

He laughed, but didn’t say a word against it as Cassandra dumped the load into one of the free washers before opening a second and pulling a load of towels ready to be dried.

It was a simple pattern, one that she didn’t have to think about after so many years. Honestly, having Strange there as somebody to talk to while she did it made the repetitiveness enjoyable.

“So, what are you bribing me with today?” she asked.

“I brought you coffee,” he defended.

He had, along with a basket of dirty clothes and something about the washer and dryer in the Sanctum not working. He and Wong were still arguing over whose jurisdiction that fell under.

“That gets you one load, folded,” she conceded, opening one of the dryers. “You’ll need to add something else to sweeten the deal.”

“My company isn’t enough?”

“It’s enough to get your socks properly bleached.”

Strange nodded in consideration, leaning against the wall.

She could feel his eyes follow her as she finished her task and set the timer forty-five minutes. Nothing left to do but wait.

She turned to him expectantly. “Well?”

A wry smile came to his lips. “Dinner?”

“It’s a good start.”

“With dessert?” he added, leaning in closer.

“Hm-hm.”

He hand found her waist pulling her closer as his nose brushed against hers. “And a little something extra after?”

She grinned, a pleasant shiver running down her spine that vibrated with the baritone of his voice. “I think that will cover it.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“And you’re getting off easy.”

“Pardon me. Oh! Cassandra, I didn’t notice you there.”

She held back the urge to roll her eyes, as she reluctantly pulled away, turning her attention to the older woman behind her.

“Good morning Mrs. Williams,” she greeted.

“Hello dear,” she said, all smiles.

Cassandra knew better than to trust it. Mrs. Williams was the number one snoop of the neighborhood. If she knew something, soon enough everybody did. Only thing Cassandra could do now was spin the story.

“And who is this?” Mrs. Williams continued, blinking innocently as if just noticing Strange.

She held back a sigh. “Mrs. Williams this is my boyfriend, Stephen, Stephen this is Mrs. Williams, she and her husband own the corner shop down the street.”

“Nice to meet you,” Stephen said. Unlike her, he didn’t bother to hide his annoyance at the interruption. Mrs. Williams, however, either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Oh so you’re the man Kat has been seeing lurking around the neighborhood. We were wondering who had snagged you. You don’t live around here, do you?”

“No,” he admitted.

She nodded, more as an affirmation to herself than anything else.

“You know it is so funny, you look exactly like that Doctor wizard man,” she continued, thoughtfully.

Cassandra bit back a laugh. “Doctor Wizard?”

Mrs. Williams glared. “Don’t tease an old woman, you know what I mean.”

“Doctor Strange,” Strange offered.

“That’s it,” she declared. “I swear you look just like him.”

“You know, I get that a lot,” he said, casually. “I think it’s the temples. Personally, I don’t see it.”

Cassandra nodded along. “Oh definity, you’re not nearly tall enough. When I first met you, I thought you looked like Vincent Price.”

Strange shot her a look.

She only smiled, thoroughly enjoying herself.

“You know, I think you’re right,” Mrs. Williams said, sounding almost disappointed. “Well, I’d better get moving on. It was lovely to meet you Stephen. Give Ellie my love.”

“Will do,” Cassandra promised.

She carefully watched as the older woman wheeled her laundry down the line of washers towards the exit. It was only when she was out of earshot did either of them dare to speak.

“Vincent Price?” Strange questioned.

“You could star in a biopic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that.”

“Oh don’t take that tone. Have you seen him in Dragonwyck? Very sexy.”

That got him to laugh properly.

She had to as well, pushing herself off the wall and taking a seat on one of the folding tables. “Do you think she figured it out?”

“I think she’ll get back on the scent eventually, just not today.”

He moved closer to her, casually placing his hands on either side of her as he leaned down to her eye level.

“I am a bit surprised you didn’t just spill the beans,” she continued.

He shrugged it off. “I don’t need everyone to know who I am. Besides, I kind of like this.”

“This?”

He nodded, his eyes softening.

“Just, being here, with you. I’d like to keep doing it, for a little while longer at least. Besides, according to you, I’ve got a lot of life experiences to catch up on.”

“What, like actually cooking a full meal for yourself?” she said, dryly.

“For a start.”

“And washing dishes.”

“I know how to wash dishes.”

“Without a dishwasher?”

“See, my point exactly.”

She laughed, allowing her hands to slip around his neck and play with the collar of his shirt.

“Careful Strange. You keep talking like that, I’ll even let you watch while I do my taxes.”

“It’s a date.”

She paused, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. The way he was looking at her was making it hard to breathe. He really did want to do all that with her, didn’t he?

As if sensing her thoughts, he leaned in closer, brushing his nose against her own before kissing her slow and gentle.

Something stirred in her his touch. It wasn’t the giddy rush of infatuation. It didn’t burn. It glowed and pulsed warm within her. Her head still spun, but her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. The look in his eyes never wavered for a moment

It came to her then, not as a bullet to the chest but as a blanket wrapped around her on a stormy night.

She was in love.

She loved Doctor Stephen Strange, because she knew, then and there, she could spend the rest of her life doing laundry and taxes with him.

She didn’t say it. Somehow admitting she loved him in the middle of a laundromat didn’t feel like the ideal place. Instead, she kissed him, hoping it would be enough.

This was a different love than what she had felt before. She wasn’t going to make the same mistakes. They had time. She just had to be patient.

#doctor strange #stephen strange #marvel #mcu #cassandra jackson #doctor strange x oc #stephen strange x oc #marvel oc #mcu oc #doctor strange x reader #2022 fic

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colorsunimaginable · 2 years

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the spare // chapter twenty-six // deatheater!tom hiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord’s triumph, she’s being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy’s younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance’s greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 6.8k warnings for this chapter: smut, fingering, drugging (lust potion), vague descriptions of underage rape

Notes: I've taken some liberties when talking about the first hand effects of the lust potion, but I've tried my best to be as accurate as possible. I listened to this song on repeat while writing this chapter. Specifically this version as well.

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The lust potion doesn’t taste like anything initially. Thomus’s hair had dissolved the moment he dropped it in, giving the lust a target. I’m anxiously expecting the potion to take effect immediately, but the only thing that’s immediate is the after taste. It’s like I’ve just taken a straight shot of vodka.

Thomus chuckles at the expression on my face and hands me his goblet. I gratefully take it and chug a few gulps. It does nothing to help my sour expression. When I put the goblet down, Thomus’s eyes are still on me, an eyebrow quirked.

“I really don’t like wine,” I explain quietly, shrugging a shoulder.

Conversation continues around me, and I focus all of my attention on how I’m feeling. Last time I took a lust potion, I didn’t know I had taken it. From the way everyone talks about this one, I half expect to turn into some sex-crazed wild animal.

Thomus laughs at something that Blaise says and I get to watch up close as his blue eyes crinkle in the corners, feel the vibrations where his chest presses against mine.

Yeah, I’m definitely going to turn into a sex-crazed wild animal… just for him.

There’s no way he could want that, could he? Didn’t he say that we were going to this dinner and then leaving? Perhaps he had planned on giving me the antidote once we got home? That would make more sense than anything else. Well, kind of. Nothing about Thomus makes sense.

He’s been kissing me more – usually right after or during an argument. The first time it’s like he wanted to rip my clothes off, and he seemed upset that we were interrupted. How far would it have gone if he hadn’t been called away? My thoughts begin to wander to the multiple destinations that kiss could have gone.

My fingers wander, too, almost of their own accord, to the curls at the base of his head. Their softness is too tempting to resist any longer.

His head jolts a little, as if I’d tickled him, so I pause. After a moment, I continue, my fingers getting braver. Instead of lightly touching, they dive into his curls, the tips tracing patterns on the back of his neck. They follow the line of his collar, making laps back and forth. I get distracted from my thoughts by the tight squeeze his hand gives my thigh. It’s a reminder that his hand is there, and it sends warmth straight to my core. I shift in his lap, squeezing my thighs together, and his arm around my waist tightens as well, as if to keep me still.

The quiet, heavy sigh I release makes his head turn. I don’t meet his eyes, instead taking in the details of his face. There’s a spot on his neck he missed while shaving, that faded scar on his forehead, lips that look so soft up close. I’m tempted to lean in, but then I remember he’s looking at me. My eyes jump to his and I become entranced by how many shades of blue they contain.

A burst of giggles from one of the girls fills the room and shakes me out of my daze. I blink and look down, feeling a blush creep up my neck.

His thumb has started tracing slow circles on my thigh and each drag sends pleasurable tingles across my skin. In an attempt to ignore it, I look around. As expected, the boys and their Lots are getting handsy, though still making an attempt to refrain from anything more. An atmosphere of restless excitement is growing around the table.

Especially when I remember where the boy’s eyes are. Yes, they’re being attentive to the girls in their laps, but their eyes are on Pansy and Draco. Pansy’s widened her eyes and is looking demurely up at him, a pouty smile on her red lips. Draco’s still attempting to make conversation with Blaise and Thomus, but he keeps trailing off whenever her hands begin to wander.

I wonder how long it took Pansy to learn the art of seduction. It’s fascinating to see how she makes him squirm under her touch. My eyes drift back to Thomus, sucking my lower lip between my teeth. Could I make him squirm, too?

My instinctive answer is no. I probably couldn’t. Death Eaters don’t squirm. Thomus is a cunning, handsome Death Eater who knows I’m attracted to him. Kissing me is a way to keep me wanting, to keep himself in control. To regain that control during an argument, he kisses me. Everything else – the dancing, the vinyl, healing me, preventing me from being mentally present to something traumatic… the kindness he’s shown me has been a ploy. It has to be.

Flint announces that it’s time to move the party to the Lounge. I have to tear myself out of Thomus’s hold. Not because he isn’t letting me out of his embrace, but because I don’t want to let go.

When we stand, I feel a little more dazed than I was expecting, like I haven’t quite woken up from a really good nap. I stand back, out of the way as Pansy and Draco pass, and Thomus finishes whatever conversation he’d been having with Blaise. The back of my arm brushes a window, it’s chilly temp invites me to put my hand on it. I’m not sure when I’d gotten so warm.

Thomus scoops up the end of the leash from where it dangles down my front and gently leads me out of the room. I grab his arm in order to stay close when we reach the Great Hall, and we go to the second room in the Lounge, where the boys settle in with their Lots. Pansy and Draco choose an armchair by the fire, almost as if they know they’re going to be the stars of the show. Thomus chooses a chair furthest from the circle and lets me stand, his hand still on the chain.

That’s the most that I’m conscious of happening. I lean against the back of his chair, unable to hold myself up. My head feels heavy, my eyes unable to focus. Maybe I have a headache? I’m not wearing my glasses so it wouldn’t be a surprise. I close my eyes, turning my face down so I can press my fingers into the space between my eyebrows, testing for tension there. When that doesn’t work, I continue around my eyes, putting pressure on the ridges of my skull around the eye sockets. It feels nice, but with my eyes closed, I could almost go to sleep if I wasn’t standing.

Fighting the sudden exhaustion, I sit on the arm of the chair I’m leaning on, my bare thigh coming out to balance me.

Thomus shifts in his seat, his hand accidentally brushing against my skin, and it’s like I get zapped with a bolt of electricity. I gasp, sitting up straighter, feeling goosebumps raise on my skin from where he touched me. The daze in my head is gone.

“How’re you feeling?” Thomus asks me, and I look down at him. My eyes take in his face and without thinking, I bend to capture his mouth with mine. The kiss feels so good, so right, a moan escapes my lips as I move them against his.

But then he’s pulling back, he’s pushing me away from him. He shoves me back so forcefully, I have to grip the back of the chair so I don’t fall. My chest is heaving and the shock of my actions makes me recoil, my gaze avoiding his face. Oh shit oh fuck. The fucking lust potion. Astor had said there’d be less control over my actions, didn’t he?

A blush blooms across my face when I hear Flint’s cruel snicker from across the way.

“If you thought she was a slut before, Malfoy,” he says. “Just you wait. She’ll –“

“Oh, Draco, don’t let her get to the good part yet,” a boy whines. My eyes flicker to Draco and Pansy to find she’s already getting on her knees.

“On that note.” Thomus suddenly stands, pulling me up with him by the chain.

He weaves us around the sets of couches until he stops by Charlotte, murmuring to her something I can’t hear. I’m starting to feel dazed again, my mind drifting. She gestures to one of the doors along the wall and with a nod to her Thomus leads me to that room.

It’s a small room with nothing more than a red velvet chaise lounge and a lamp, which Thomus has just clicked on. Not even any windows. A small table with a wine bottle and some kind of hard liquor are tucked underneath the lamp shade.

He’s still standing by the door, a hand holding the leash, and another patting his suit jacket down. I reach for his hand, meaning to pull the chain from his grip so he can use both hands in his search. My fingers brush against his and I gasp at the sudden clarity in my mind. As my hands find themselves pushing at his shoulders until his back hits the wall, I realize it’s not clarity in my head. It’s drive. It’s hunger. It’s lust.

I take advantage of his surprise and my lips push up against his, devouring. The lapels of his jacket become fisted in my hands, keeping him to me, right where I want him. I’m kissing him now. It’s my turn to be the lead. My turn to see if I could make him as weak in the knees and as short of breath as he made me.

The little slut in my head rejoices when I feel his hands spread out over my waist. He kisses me back, taking control, his lips maintaining a leisurely pace. Impatient, my hands slip under his jacket, beginning to run along his chest, fingers deftly undoing his shirt buttons. Good thing he’s not wearing a tie.

Thomus tries to pull away, and instinctively my lips try to follow him, gripping the fabric to pull him back. His long hands come up to cup the sides of my head, firmly holding me back. I let out a frustrated whine as our lips part.

“Whoa, whoa, now wait just a minute,” he says between heavy breaths. “It wasn’t supposed to hit you this hard.” His confused blue eyes scan my flushed face. “I thought I did everything right. I made sure you ate, I made sure I was touching your skin… I knew I should have made you eat more.” One of his hands leaves me, rummaging through his pockets again. “I have the antidote.”

My eyes close and I hold his hand near my face. I turn my face into his palm, brushing kisses there. My tongue darts out to run laps over the lines in his skin. “I don’t want an antidote,” I whisper. “I just want you.” My lips trail up to his thumb and I look up at him just as I take it into my mouth.

His eyes darken while looking at me, and then he’s blinking rapidly, shaking his head. “That’s the potion talking.”

I pop his thumb out of my mouth. “But Thomus,” I moan his name, my breath hot on his palm, my eyes pleading. “You know that’s not true. I want you.”

He sighs heavily, his other hand coming up to cup my face again. His voice is surprisingly tender. “You don’t know what you want right now.”

“Yes, I do,” I press. My hands go back to their task of unbuttoning him and my voice drops in an attempt to be sultry. “I know exactly what I want.“

“What is it, exactly, that you want?” he asks, almost sounding annoyed. His hands leave my face to grab mine, bringing them to rest on top of his suit jacket. “And will you stop undoing my shirt buttons?”

I raise my eyebrows, a teasing smirk on my lips. “I think you should start wearing shirts without so many buttons. Then I wouldn’t have so many to undo.” I try to pull my hands out of his grasp, but he tightens his hold. I think about what I’m going to say next, and normally I’d be building up courage, but right now the words just pour so easily from my mouth. “And as for your first question, I want you to punish me.”

His eyebrows shoot up, surprised. “Pardon?”

My tongue darts out to wet my lips. “I want to know what you would do to discipline me.” I grip his jacket, pulling myself up on my tiptoes, to brush my lips along his jaw. “If Avery were watching, what would you do to me?”

Thomus’s grip on my hands tightens and his breath catches. My mouth travels to his, kissing him sweetly.

“How would you fuck me if I were being… bad?” I whisper against him. “Would you give me a few slaps to the face? Deny me orgasms even when I beg? Face fuck me until you cum in my mouth, forcing me to swallow it all?” I pull back, my eyebrows raised and pushed together, an attempt to look innocent.

Blue eyes drop to my mouth, as if picturing that last one. Then he sucks in a sharp, pained breath. “I, um – “ he starts, eyes meeting back up with mine. “Th - that’s what you fantasize about? You fantasize about me being a brute?”

I blink and quickly shake my head, rocking back up to press my lips to his again. “No,” I say. I tug at my hands and he finally lets them go. They travel up to bury themselves in his hair and I kiss him with as much fervor as is possible to give in a kiss. “I just fantasize about you.”

His hands had moved down to my hips and at my words, his fingers dig into the ample flesh there. He groans against my mouth and the kiss deepens, our tongues dancing. He pulls me tight against him and I feel his hard length pressing into me.

“Thomus,” I moan, hoping that I’ve done enough convincing to get him to ravish me.

But, alas, his hands come back to my shoulders and he pushes me back. I whimper in protest and he shushes me. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face up. After a moment, his heavy breathing becomes measured, and when he looks back down at me, his expression is cool and aloof. One of his hands cups my jaw, his thumb brushing my lips.

He quirks an eyebrow and frowns. When he speaks his voice is gravelly and oh so hot. “You are making this far more difficult than I expected.”

My tongue darts out to touch his thumb, but he moves it away at the first brush. I pout. The hand holding my face goes down to feel around in his pocket again. I make a show of trying to help, patting down his jacket, then the front of his pants.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to convince you?” I murmur, my hand brushing not so accidentally with his length. At my touch, his hips jerk, and I take that as a sign of encouragement. My eyes are on his face when I grab him and give a gentle squeeze. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he grits his teeth, in-taking sharply through his nose.

Thomus pulls his hand from his pocket and runs his fingers through his hair. He sighs heavily again, sagging against the wall, putting distance between our faces. “How much experience do you actually have?” he asks. “Because for a virgin, you’re acting awfully… experienced.”

“Mmm,” I hum, biting my lip. I let my hand rub him slowly while I think about how to respond. Unfortunately, having to use my brain relinquishes the sultry tone I’d been trying to have. “I’ve made out with some guys… Given some of those guys head, and… I’ve gotten fingered.”

“I don’t count for that last one, right?” he asks.

“Correct,” I say, feeling the blush spread across my cheeks. I sigh with longing, remembering how good getting fingered by him was. “You were definitely the best in that department, though.”

The stern expression he has breaks for a moment when he scoffs, disbelieving. “Your instructions were clear and precise.”

“You’d be surprised how many of those guys couldn’t understand what I was asking for.”

His eyes narrow. “Well, they were idiots.”

I let out a breathy giggle. “Your execution was perfect. Did you know I came three times?” I hold up three fingers between us. “Three! Consecutively!”

A smug smile tugs at his lips. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No! Not at all! It had just… never happened before.”

That smile of his vanishes and he frowns. “Did those fools ever make you cum?”

“Um,” I say, looking away, thinking. “No. I usually had to help, or I just wouldn’t finish at all. Which is fine, I guess, considering we never fooled around long enough to get things figured out.”

“What kind of things?” His hand leaves my shoulder, running both hands down my back until they settle on my hips, pulling me so close I’m forced to stop rubbing him through his pants. I slide my hands around his waist and hold him too.

“Oh, you know, everyone’s wired just a little bit differently. It takes time to figure out how to make the other person’s toes curl.”

He raises an eyebrow again. “Clever girl like you, I’d imagine it didn’t take you very long to figure them out.”

I blush. “No, I didn’t really have any issue in… that department.”

“Did they ever return the favor?” he asks, his voice low, then he smirks. “Or made an attempt, I should say.”

“Are you asking if they ever ate me out?”

He chuckles. “See? Clever.”

I smile, humming from the praise, before I sigh. “Yes, they did, but I can’t blame them for not getting me to finish.”

“Well, why not?” he demands, sounding upset on my behalf.

“Because,” I start, words spilling out of me again, “they didn’t really seem like they wanted to do it in the first place. And I already felt bad for even asking, because I understand it’s not the greatest thing in the world, especially because I’m bigger so –“

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asks.

“Because I’ve got a fat pussy, Thomus,” I blurt out, annoyed he interrupted me. “One guy explained he didn’t like it because he said he couldn’t breathe and the smell and the taste made him feel like he was suffocating.” I close my eyes and turn my face down, a pain in my chest from the memory. “Which doesn’t make sense because I was on my back and I had just showered, so it’s not like I wasn’t clean or –“

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft but firm. When I don’t look at him, his hand comes up to tilt my chin up. His thumb brushing my cheek makes me open my eyes. “You deserve so much better than that.”

“Right,” I scoff. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?” I push up on my tiptoes to get close to his face again. I let out a shuddering breath. “My hand was literally on your dick and I still couldn’t convince you to –“

He cuts me off with another kiss. It’s not just any kiss, though. It makes my heart thud haphazardly in my chest and my insides clench as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, as if claiming its territory. A true multitasker, his hands slip down my waist again to squeeze my backside, before one of them comes up to my chest, doing the same to my breast. Needing more, I quickly guide his hand to the deep neckline of the dress, allowing his hand to slip inside to caress my bare skin. His fingers quickly find my already hard nipple and he pinches it. I moan against his mouth.

I don’t bother trying to undo his shirt anymore. Instead, I brazenly pull it out of his pants, my hands fumbling with his belt buckle, and then the button and the zipper. My hands slip inside his boxers and I let out a keen squeal when I finally have him in my hands.

“Holy shit!” I gasp, breaking our kiss. “No wonder Bellatrix wants you all to herself.”

“Shut up,” he growls, threading his fingers in the hair at base of my head to pull me back to him.

He’s kissing me, but all I can think about is him in my hands. He feels so perfect. Right now I want nothing more than for him to be inside me. Whether it’s my mouth or elsewhere, I don’t care. Hmm, maybe I should show him how good I am with my mouth first.

Without having to think too much about it, I find myself lowering in front of him. He quickly realizes what I’m trying to do and stops me, grabbing the leash where it meets the collar. In protest, I squeeze his length and pump my hands.

“Ah, fuck –“ he hisses, his eyes shut tight. Then he groans and pulls my hands out of his pants. He pulls his face away from mine. “No. This is wrong. We have to stop.”

I shake my head, too consumed with need. “I don’t want this to stop.”

“We must.” His hands begin fumbling in his pockets again.

While he’s distracted, I take the leash of my collar and swing it around his neck, grasping the other end. I pull him down to me and our lips meet once more. My kiss is sloppy, desperate. I ache with need for him. If I don’t have him inside me soon, I’m going to spontaneously combust.

“Please,” I beg against his mouth, and it almost sounds like a cry. “Fuck me, Thomus. Please.”

He lets out a tortured groan as he spins me, pressing my back into the wall, his face buried in my neck. “No.”

“Please, Thomus. I’ve been good, right?” I sob. He has both my wrists in his hands. “Please, I just want to feel your hard cock inside me.” He raises my hands above my head, using sticking charms to keep them there. “Thomus, that’s all I want, I promise.” His hands disappear from me, but he rests his forehead against mine. “I’ll be a good girl and cum all over your cock. Isn’t that what you want?”

He simply sighs, a hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Yes, my darling.” He presses a vial to my lips. “But you have to drink this first.”

Tears prick my eyes and I strain against the charm’s hold, turning my face away. “No, that’s not what I want.”

I feel his thumb rub my cheek. “You want to be a good girl?” he asks, his voice husky. “You want to do what pleases me?”

My head eagerly bobs up and down. “Yes, sir.”

“It would please me to see you drink this.” He presses the vial again to my lips. “And then I’ll think about giving you what you want.”

When I blink, the tears stream down my cheeks. “Okay,” I breathe, and let him tip the vial into my mouth.

~*~

The antidote spreads like ice in my veins. Before it was fire, a burning, aching, uncontrollable need. But now it’s cool, like sitting in front of an air conditioner on a sweltering summer afternoon.

My eyes are as wide as saucers, my mouth agape as he looks down at me. Realization and embarrassment flood every cell in my body and I shudder. My face then quickly twists into my ugly cry face and I let the tears and sobs flow, turning my face into my arm in an attempt to shield myself from him.

Thomus undoes the sticking charms and pulls me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin.

“I-I’m so s-sorry,” I sob into his chest. One hand rubs my back and the other strokes my hair.

“Sh sh,” he hushes. ��Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t all that bad until the end.”

That only makes me sob even harder. I feel so unbearably guilty. How the fuck could I have done that? Any of that?

“It’s not your fault,” he says softly. Why does he feel the need to lie to me?

I force myself to take deep breaths, calming the tremors through my body. I sniffle, breathing in his scent one last time, and force myself to push him away. My teary eyes don’t meet his before I shakily walk to the chaise lounge. I grab the bottle of hard liquor from under the lamp and unscrew it without even looking at the contents. The end of the bottle tips up as I chug and I sink onto the cushions.

Thomus must’ve thought I’m overindulging, because he grabs the bottle after my third audible swallow. The burn makes me cough, but I refuse to release the bottle from my hands, cradling it to my chest as I lean back, eyes closed. The alcohol is already doing its job, its warmth spreading through my stomach and calming my nerves.

“What made the end so bad?” I ask him, dreading his answer.

He sighs and I hear him refasten his pants and belt. What I assume is his jacket lands on the back of the chaise, and I feel him sit. Not close enough to touch, but not too far away either. He leans back, too.

Thomus sighs again and I chance a peek at him. His eyes are closed and his arms are crossed over his chest. I take in the curve of his biceps and just how many buttons I’d managed to undo.

He speaks with his eyes closed, a pained expression on his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. That whole ordeal was terrible.”

Oh fuck. Terrible? He hated that whole thing? He hated me trying to seduce him? A sharp ache spreads through my chest and I bring the bottle to my lips again. Of course he did.

“Right,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I stare unseeing at the wall in front of me, trying to clear my head, trying to be numb.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. I glance at him, then bounce my gaze away when I find him looking at me.

I don’t even have the energy to shrug. “Drained.” Humiliated. Ashamed. Horny. Ashamed for being horny. “I’m sorry,” I say again.

“For what?”

“For… touching you like that,” I breathe. I know you find me repulsive. “I know it’s the last thing you ever wanted.”

He sits up out of my peripheral vision, and yanks the bottle from my grasp. His eyes linger on my thighs, fully exposed to my hips, before giving me a dirty look. “You have no idea what I want,” he says before taking a long swig.

Someone turns up the house music playing in the Lounge. The heavy bass vibrates through the room.

“I know it’s not me,” I murmur.

He turns to full on glare at me now. “Did the antidote make you lose some of that cleverness I just praised you for?” he snaps. My eyebrows pinch together as I glare back, clenching my jaw to keep my lip from trembling. “You were the one under the effects of a lust potion, not me.” He turns away from me again and drinks.

I blink, my mind trying to sludge through thoughts like I’m army crawling through the mud. “What is it that you said once? I made you act on things you didn’t wish to? Sounds pretty shitty of me.”

He laughs once, no humor in his tone. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then why don’t you fucking explain it to me, then?” I spit. “Why didn’t you tell me I was going to be taking Flint’s potion?”

“Would it really have made a difference if you knew or not?”

“It might have,” I say. “I might’ve been able to have a little more control.”

He snorts. “You have control? It was my responsibility to have everything under control. And look what a great fucking job I did. You were nearly coming undone.”

“Yeah, I was nearly coming alright,” I mutter. Now that I have a moment to reflect, I can feel how wet I still am. Undies soaked. “Why didn’t you… take advantage?”

He takes a moment to respond. “Lust potions… particularly this one, make the matter of consent a little greyer than I’d like.”

My mind reels and I blink, absorbing this information. “You – a Death Eater – care about consent?” I ask. “Given, ya know, the current state of everything, those two concepts don’t really go hand in hand.”

“Why do you think I haven’t let you take it before?” he asks. “Everything I said to Flint was true in my regards to it.”

“I-I guess I thought it was just an excuse.”

“An excuse?”

“So you wouldn’t have to actually touch me,” I admit softly, staring off across the room. “I know you don’t kiss me because you want to.”

Thomus’s head whips around to face me again, his expression furious. “Will you stop talking out of your arse?” he snaps. “You had my raging hard on in your hands and yet you refuse to believe I want to kiss you?” He turns away again, shaking his head. He leans back and tips the bottle into his mouth. “Ridiculous.”

I sit forward, facing him, ready for a retort.

“I’m the one that should be wary of your advances,” he snaps, his eyes closed, bottle cradled in his elbow. “The lies just came spilling out of your mouth. You couldn't have meant anything you were saying.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Now who’s talking out of their ass?” I say as I reach for the bottle. Just when I get my fingers around the neck, his hand wraps around my wrist. My eyes flash up to his dark gaze and I let go of the bottle. He doesn't release my wrist as he sits forward again. His grip isn't tight, but not loose enough for me to break free. His other hand puts the bottle on the floor behind him.

Only breaking his gaze with mine when that same hand pulls the end of the chain into his fingers from where it pools in my lap. The backs of his fingers brush up along my front as they slide to the collar, running over my stomach, the crevice where my breasts are pulled together in the deep neckline, and up to the base of my throat. The simple gentle touch sends shivers down my spine and goosebumps rise on the exposed skin of my breasts. I take in a deep shuddering breath and his eyes jump back up to mine, intent now.

"How're you feeling?" he murmurs. "Compared to before."

"Uh, filtered," I say, my mind feeling scattered with the rush from his touch. My eyes follow down to where his chest is now exposed, due to the numerous buttons I'd managed to release. A shame I didn't make it all the way. "Certain… feelings were there already. The potion didn't fabricate it. It just… set them free. I think you know what I'm talking about."

“What feelings?” he asks, eyes on my lips.

I sigh heavily. “Haven’t you noticed I always kiss you back?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I might have,” he whispers. “I think I need to do a test, though, just to make sure.”

Slowly, Thomus’s mouth descends on mine and I melt under his touch. His hand releases my wrist and glides itself up my leg, pausing to squeeze my inner thigh. His hand near my core makes me gasp and my thighs press together when he lets go, enjoying the pleasurable pressure there. Then it comes up to cup my jaw, his fingers threading into my hair. He kisses me, taking his time again, until he pulls my lower lip between his teeth, nibbling. A small whimper escapes at the sensation.

My mind being so hazy from his kiss that I almost forget that I should be touching him too. I run my hands up his thighs, then jump to the buttons on his shirt. I want to touch him there again, but I don’t want to be too bold. The rest of the buttons are easy work and soon his hands release me to shrug it off, not breaking our kiss.

His skin is warm and soft under my hands. I run them back and forth over his shoulders as his lips trail a pathway down my jaw and to my neck. He kisses around the collar and delves lower. His hands grapple with the zipper on the back of my dress, unzipping it enough to make my neckline loose.

He pushes me until my back hits the cushiony armrest. He pulls both my bra straps and the neckline of the dress down, revealing my shoulders and my heaving chest. Thomus crawls over me, moving the middle panel of the dress’ skirt aside until his knee is pressing right up against my core. I moan, my hips rotating against him.

His mouth trails a wet path over the curves of my breasts. He even pulls one out of the cup, latching onto my nipple. And, wow. My body must still be over sensitive from the lust potion, because normally, my nipples aren’t all that receptive, even to my own touch. His teeth sink into the nub and his tongue runs circles around it. A pleading moan escapes my lips again.

Leaving the tip wet and peaked, he whispers in my ear, “Can I touch you?”

My nod is enthusiastic, my cheek brushing against his freshly shaven jaw. “Please,” I breathe heavily.

Without wasting another second, his hand immediately dives for where his knee is pressed against me. He has to pull his leg back and my thighs part even more for him. His fingers slip under the crotch of my undies, delving into my slick folds.

“Fuck,” Thomus growls from deep in his throat. “You’re so fucking wet.” I don’t have a chance to respond, because he slides a finger, then two inside me, his thumb on my clit. His hand begins to move and my jaw goes slack, my brows furrowed in concentration. Even with the Lounge’s music vibrating through the room, the noises coming from between my legs were loud and sinful. I bite my lip to keep from moaning again. It doesn’t work because a tiny one still escapes.

His mouth captures mine, his tongue sweeping through before he trails to my ear. “You better not hide those moans from me. I thought you were a good girl?”

I lace my fingers in his hair, caressing his jaw. “I am.”

“Prove it.” His fingers press harder against me as he moves. My hips correspond to the slightly aggressive pace he’s set and I don’t hold back my vocalization of the pleasure he’s giving me. He chuckles against my throat. “That’s better.”

As he continues, I feel my body tensing up in that certain way. With my hand still gripping his hair, I pull his face up so I can kiss him.

From beyond the door, a loud rumble of male voices laughing distracts me. The house music got turned down and a youthful female voice carries over their laughter. My lips pull away from his, and my hips unwillingly jerk out of the rhythm he’d set. There’s something about their tone that makes me uneasy, making my chest tighten with panic. I glance up toward the door.

Thomus notices my lack of attention. His hand grips my jaw and turns me to look at him. The aggressive pace his hand had, has slowed a bit, trying to coax me back into his rhythm. “Ignore them,” he orders, his pupils are dilated. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Alder.”

“I’m… I’m,” I mutter breathlessly. The men collectively groan as the female voice screams. I glance up toward the door again, my desire for Thomus quickly being replaced by fear. His fingers slow even more. “I can’t. Can you find out what’s going on? Please?”

He abruptly sits back, his fingers pulling out of me, and I feel a rush of cold air from where he’d been. He glares at me, then he stands, pulling his shirt back onto his shoulders. I can appreciate his naked torso only briefly before there’s another burst of noise. I close my legs and sit up, shoving my boob back in my bra and pull the straps up. He takes two strides to the door, pulling it open enough to stick his head out.

He visually stiffens at whatever he sees in the Lounge, and he quickly closes the door.

“We need to leave,” he says, buttoning up his shirt. My heart jumps anxiously in my chest. I stand and fix my skirt, then bend my head so I can ruffle my fingers through my hair. When I flip it back up, Thomus is done buttoning. I grab his jacket off the chaise and hold it out to him. He takes it and before putting it on, pulls me closer, spinning me around.

He brushes my hair aside, his lips descending on where my shoulder meets my neck. His lips linger as he pulls up the dress’s shoulders so he can zip me back up. He turns me back around, facing him.

“I’m pretty sure the room next to us has a Floo,” he says. “I want you to only look at me as we go there, do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good.” He grabs the end of the leash and we leave the room.

I keep my eyes on him as we try for the room next door, trying to ignore what I’m hearing from the other side of the room. The room next door is occupied, but Thomus already had a backup plan, guiding me along the wall to the other side of the room. My damnable curiosity and concern over what I’m hearing makes my eyes flicker up to the source.

The only things I manage to see is the head of a young girl, her olive face flushed, her eyes squeezed tight, and the fact that she’s surrounded by men. I don’t see a lot, because I quickly turn my gaze my to Thomus, but I see enough to know that what’s happening is sexual, and it makes me sick to my stomach. I hear her distinct young voice desperately pleading something in Italian.

Thomus yanks me into another room, I think the actual room we needed, and soon enough we’re back in the quiet of our cottage living room.

My chest aches and my mind reels from what I just briefly witnessed. Thomus clicks on the lamp and our eye contact is fleeting.

“You saw,” he says, reading the tension in my face and shoulders.

“Yeah, I saw,” I respond, my voice soft, sad.

He doesn’t say anything more, he just watches me. I can tell he’s waiting for me to blow up, to be angry about it. I avoid his gaze, staring at the carpet.

“I had no part in what you saw,” he says, his voice quiet and firm.

“No, but… those are your people,” I say. I’m surprisingly calm. “That’s what you guys are all about, aren’t you?” I begin walking to the steps. “Drugging women, murdering people, and gang raping children apparently.”

“I do not support –“

“It doesn’t matter,” I dismiss coldly. “Whether you do or don’t partake or condone their actions, you’re still fighting for them. For monsters like that.” My nose wrinkles in disgust. “The closer you get to capturing George Weasley or however many Carrow girls you bring back, you’re just ensuring that this fucking bullshit continues.”

My eyes finally flicker up to him again. His expression is blank, but I’m almost sure I can see a glimpse of something else in his eyes. Regret? Guilt? Remorse? It’s gone before I can figure it out.

“Goodnight,” I say quietly, beginning my trek up the stairs, then my tone turns dry. “Thanks for caring about my consent.”

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coffeeorsomething-irl · 1 year

Text

Ch 6 of my Luke Skywalker x OC fic. First chapter and a brief explanation of wtf is this, here

Next chapter, here

@dailydragon08, @a-midwinter-night-dream-86

Lake

The days following were easier. Her mind relaxed, somewhat, and permitted of other thoughts. One morning when she got up, she packed her bag and went into the wood, traipsing lightly through it to the lake. Willows hung back a ways from its grassy banks, and on one side of it rose a little hill, whose sheer flank loomed raggedly over the waters. On the hill's crown sat a spring, and its pellucid effluence sheeted down the rockface into the lake below. She sat down in the grasses bordering the lake, and took out her notebook.

At some point she moved to the tree line and positioned her back against a trunk, viewing the lake through a curtain of trailing leaves. Part of her wondered if he could really find his way through the wood just by her being there, and part of her knew that he would, or she wouldn't have come.

The day wore on, and she didn't realize he'd found her, until he spoke.

"It's beautiful."

She gasped and straightened, dropping her pen, and looked for him. He was leaning on a willow, a ways off to her right.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin and a blush, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Luke," she said, and smiled, "you found me."

He strode forward to her side and dropped into a seat. "I've been finding you… haven't I?" His voice held amusement.

"W-well, sure, but… somehow it feels different, out here. It's farther. And… I'm not at a landmark, you already know."

He supported his chin with his hand, and said easily, "You're a landmark I already know, in the Force. It's easy for me to feel your presence, when I search for it. Even from a distance. Hi, Ciri. You're beautiful, and I missed you."

"H-hi Luke. Y-you're… um, I missed you too." She'd almost complimented him back, but chickened out at the last moment. The whole thing caused her to redden.

His face had split into a big, happy smile anyway at her admission, and the tips of his ears went pink.

"What were you drawing?" he murmured.

"Um…," she passed him her notebook. She'd filled the page with sketches of the ducks floating upon the lake.

He made an approving sound in his throat, looking at her work. "You're so good at this, Ciri…" She blushed.

"Thank you."

"So how many types of bird are on this lake, right now?"

"Four."

He looked at the lake. "I see three… blue, green, and grey-brown. Which is the fourth?"

She laughed. "No, you're seeing males. Ducks are sexually dimorphic. The blue and the green are males of two species, and the grey-brown are females, but there's four different kinds."

"Which are which?"

She scooted closer and leaned into him, then pointed, so her arm would be aligned with his head. "Well, first, that one, that one, and that one have spots on their undersides, that you can kind of see creeping up their sides."

"Oh yeah…"

"They're two species. There's different patterns to the spots, but you can't see it well while they're in the water. Their bills are shaped a little different, too. They eat different things. …Then there's that one. It has a different shape to its wings, similar to the blue male, which prevents it from taking flight easily, and neither can walk well on land. They’re the same species."

"…OK, very observant."

"And then there's that one… it has a thinner bill, and it's bigger than the others. It's the female of the fourth species, and the green is the male. He's bigger than the other male, too."

He grinned. "Ciri, you're so smart," he mused appreciatively, then quickly turned his head and kissed her temple.

She flushed, giggled a little, and dropped her arm. "Th-Thank you, Luke."

"You have them categorized?"

"W-well, yeah."

"How are they related, do you reckon?"

"I don't know, but.. I've placed the larger species with one of the spotted ones. They have similar feeding habits, and their bills are closer in shape. I think the poor flyers are more distant. …Of course, I could be wrong."

"Well, I'm sure it's not easy to infer relationships. ..Do you ever see new species on the lake?"

"I have, but not for a while now. There's lots that migrate so they're only here part of the year."

"Where do they go?"

"I-I don't know… If I could travel and learn more regions, maybe I could find them again." It made her a little sad, to think of being stuck there.

He reached into her lap and held her hand.

"I'm sure that one day you can get to know all the biomes on the planet. …Maybe not quite as well as you do this one."

She smiled at him, pleased. “I like your confidence.”

He grinned, easily, "I am absolutely confident." Then he looked out over the water.

The light over the lake was dimming, as the day waned away. The western sky was light above the trees, rays tracing down to the water.

"Hey, Ciri," he murmured with a grin.

"Luke?"

"Wanna help me practice that Force thing again?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Great." His eyes sparked as he grinned, and a blush spread over his fine features.

"So, I had this theory…," he announced, "This theory that the closer we are, the easier this is to channel. ..So…"

He bit his lip, cocked his head, and asked slyly, "…Wanna get in my lap?" Then with a snuff he admitted, "–Um, I can't lie - this is primarily a shameless bid to have you in my lap."

She blushed intensely red to match his, feeling her heart speed. "Y-y-yeah.. I’d.. I’d like that…" She laughed briefly in embarrassment as he beamed broadly with happiness, then uncrossed her legs and scooted in closer, a bit uncertainly.. and then something unseen was taking over, smoothly scooping her up and depositing her between his legs.

His warmth blossomed against her back as he settled her in, and his arms wrapped around her. His cheek rubbed along her temple, and they both spent a moment, oh-so-comfy yet tension-tingling, recovering from the lurch into awareness of the other's proximity. ..He'd placed her notebook carefully on her pack.

"It's always a little bit shocking at first, just how nice this feels… isn't it, Ciri…," he breathed gently at her temple.

"L-Luke…," she whispered, hesitating, almost death-gripping his arm.. then admitted, "y-yes, it is."

"…Well, I'm going to be really embarrassed, if I can't do this as well after telling you how good it's going to work…"

She smiled, and laughed, in spite of herself. "..D-don't w-worry, you were fairly noncommittal," she reassured him.

She felt his answering chuckle ripple through her back, and shivered with the pleasure of it. "Ok, good…," he murmured. She couldn't believe her luck, that he enjoyed touching too. Or that he kept making ways to do it, when she didn't have the courage. He'd been right - he didn't disappoint.

Then the ducks took flight.

"Look at the wings!" she said, pointing, "The tips of those two are blunt."

"Ciri, can you really see that?" The world had become dim, as dusk burgeoned.

"Oh… Well, maybe not right now, I suppose."

"We'll have to come back during the day."

She laughed in embarrassment. "We don't have to do that, Luke, I-I'm sure it's not that interesting…"

"I'm interested. ..You know, bodies of water are still some of the most exotic things I've ever seen."

She laughed, thinking how unlikely it was that something pedestrian to her would be anything special to him. "I won't make you wait, then. Let's go this six-day."

He delicately kissed her hair. "Let's go seven-day. I'm taking you somewhere, six-day."

"Y-you are?"

"Mmhmm," he confirmed enigmatically.

"Where?" she laughed.

"Back to my ship, at first… from there, it's a surprise."

"Luke..!" and her throat clenched.

"..Ciri?" He sounded so soft and cautiously curious, it made her heart pang to be the one he spoke to.

"..L-Luke… Thank you… A-all of this kind of means the world to me… a-and I can't really understand how I got so lucky, all the sudden."

"…Well, you didn't," he told her plainly. "You're yourself, that's all. I'm lucky I happened by, to see you there…all in your woodsy leathers, surrounded by the fancy court-folk, standing so uncomfortably by your father's side looking like a forester's daughter… How could you not catch my eye, looking so out of place? ..Lucky I took that walk, that night, too.. my recluse. ..Though…I know I was going to find a way to talk to you, regardless.."

"…W-well..," she blushed, brightly, mind flashing back to the handsome man lankily crossing the grass.. to speak to her, in private. "M-m-maybe we both…got lucky, that you came, then."

"I'll go with that," he agreed.

She smiled, and took a moment just to breathe.

"…W-we… we lost our ducks…" she observed.

He chuckled. "We did… that's alright, princess, I'll find us something else to listen to. …why don't you just… curl up and get comfortable."

He leaned back against the tree trunk, and she did as he suggested, curling up in his lap and resting against him as his arms readjusted around her. One of his hands found one of hers, and their fingers twined, and he briefly pressed a chaste kiss into her hair, and sighed.

"Ah," he murmured after a moment, "This is going to be more difficult… but interesting."

She waited, but he didn't continue.

"…Are you going to tell me what it is, or is it a surprise?" she asked in amusement.

"Of course it's a surprise…," he trailed, "Now… relax and clear your mind, pretty Ciri… as best you can…"

She found his presence around her comforting, as she tried to empty her mind of stray thoughts. It was easier to do, by letting him fill her awareness, than it had been, just being next to him, before. Then, she focused in on her breathing, matching it easily to his, which had been gently nudging her whole upper body with each inhalation.

Presently, his breath expanded in her awareness… She felt herself rising and falling in it like a leaf suspended in a pulsating column of air… and then she became indistinct from the column.

Then there was coolness, and darkness, and silvered light, and a yawning lake of air… and finally, a great, rolling wave of scent descended… must, and water, and moist decomposition, and flowers… many flavors of flowers… close, far, strong and many, delicately scattered, a wild, dizzying, uncountable array, variegations on sweetness and poignance of incredible fineness and breadth… and motion, this field of smells perpetually in motion, a single light hanging steady, smells failing and rising stronger, one rising strongest….

And then it faded, and she was in her companion's arms, and felt like she could barely smell at all.

She swallowed, and gripped his arm, and curled up tighter into him with her eyes squeezed shut.

"Ciri…?" he breathed, "are you alright? …I tried to let you down a little easier this time…"

She nodded against him, felt his arms rising closer around her. "Thank you," she whispered, "I'm fine. It was beautiful… beautiful…"

Silence descended into the comfortable thrumming of crickets.

"-Luke, what was that?" she asked quietly.

"It was an insect… one of the big fluttery nectar-eating ones."

"A moth…," she said, "a moth… I didn't know…that they could smell like that… I need to know which moth, can they all do that? where should I add it…"

He gave a slow appreciative smile, above her head. "My scientist…," he softly hummed. “Well, next time I’ll let you identify the creature first, so you’ll know where to put it. No more surprises.”

She nodded. "Thank you, Luke. You know I appreciate this.. much more than I can say."

He snuggled her in against him a little closer, as they relaxed into the quiet susurrations of the night.

"I know exactly what you mean," he returned in a murmur.

The day they went back to the lake, he started asking her questions, about the planet and what she knew of it. What she knew, of course, was only from books and maps - he wanted to see them, so she brought him back to her rooms at the end of the day and showed him. He was interested in the planet's ecosystems, but her maps focused primarily on settlements, trade routes, and the geographic obstacles to them. She told him what she could, from her readings of travel logs and natural treatises. He chose the biggest map, a great folding thing which purported to show the entire globe in some detail, and made her promise to bring it, and her notebook, with her tomorrow.

The next morning, they went out to his X-wing, and he had R2 scan it into his memory banks. "Pick a spot without people," he told her, so she did, her belly trembling with excitement.

And he took her there. The spot she'd chosen was on the eastern continent, in the middle of a great steppe, far from any settlement large enough to have been noted by the mapmakers. R2 complained vociferously about the fiddliness of the map's dimensions, but the little droid found it for them, anyhow - comparing the coastlines and distant landmarks on the page with observations taken from orbit. The ship's sensors assured that they were alone, and they set down, amidst undifferentiated, gently rolling grassland.

The land stretched to the horizon in all directions, equally. Ripples ran across it, before the wind, as though over the surface of a sea. For a long while, she simply gazed into it. Something about the vastness of it all made her feel small enough to be just another blade of grass, tossed by the wind. And in merging with the landscape, in that way, she felt herself expand, perceptually… Until it was she, who was unbounded on all sides.

He smiled at her. "It's not what I'd thought you might pick," he observed lightly.

"I've never been somewhere I could see so far," she explained, "it's the most opposite, of a forest.. Except I guess a desert."

"Do you like it?"

She could only nod.. unable to convey just how much, with language.

Presently, she set to filling her notebook, with as much of it as she could. Focusing on the great sweep of the landscape, at first, and then on the little details - the grasses, at her feet, discovering with pleasure that they were in their specificity as varied, as the overall impression from a distance was not.

Though the steppe was at first blush home only to flora, there were insects, in the grass, and occasional birds, that traced large circles high in the air. And in a little while, he touched her shoulder, and pointed, and very, very slowly parted the grasses a short distance off, with his mind… To reveal a small rodent with spindly, prominent hindlimbs, and a face elongated into a ridiculously pinched nose.

She stifled a laugh, and drew it swiftly, before it became aware of its exposure, and sped away into the stalks.

That day, she was brave enough to hug him, again. Seemingly very happy for it - happy enough, to make her feel guilty, for having taken so long to find the courage - he let it last for as long as her nerves would allow her to let it last, and thanked her for it sweetly, when she at length, and with a kiss on his cheek, let him go.

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x oc #luke skywalker fic #luke skywalker fluff #my writing

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lorspolairepeluche · 2 years

Text

Day’s End

look, this is a well-established pattern. i see @bladeverbena make a new oc, and i immediately have to make an oc of my own to hype his oc up and be the Best Friend, and then within a week i’m in tears over my oc’s tragic story and have made like five other ocs to populate it. this is exactly what happened re: ress and oday.

Anyway. AHEM. This is my enablement of contribution to the AU first seen in this fic of Smith’s. Set maybe a few weeks to a couple months after the squad returns on the Ragnarok. (Mild CWs for alcohol and discussion of pregnancy, past abuse, past suicidal ideation, and death of a significant other. Nothing described graphically. I promise. Also, goes without saying, FFXIV spoilers up to mild Endwalker spoilers.)

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO.

“You know, with how many children you adopted even before you stopped being an asshole, I thought you’d be happier about the news.”

Gaius wasn’t surprised to hear someone — he’d heard heavy steps climbing the stairs toward his room and his balcony — but the sound of that voice in particular piqued his curiosity. That wasn’t to say he jumped in surprise. Certainly not. Simply a small startle out of his reverie. He turned to the doorway. “Oduyanga Khagan.”

“Did I scare you?” At least they had the decency to try and hold back their smile at the idea.

“I simply hadn’t ever heard your voice below fortissimo before. I didn’t realize you were capable.”

“Ah, laugh yourself stupid about it.” But they’d let the smile creep up as they rolled their eyes, and they held out two metal flasks. “Share a drink with me? Sunsets are even more stunning when seen from a roof.”

“How did you even get in here?” he asked, even as he relinquished the last of his grip on the balustrade and followed them to the trapdoor in his solar that led to the roof above his apartments.

“You said it yourself — I’m the khagan. You can get in almost anywhere when you’re an allied foreign dignitary.” They tugged the rope that both opened the trapdoor and dropped the ladder concealed above it. The piece of ceiling swung inward to let a shaft of reddish evening light pour lazily down on the dim landing. “Look urgent enough, hide the booze, and say that you need to see Lord Baelsar immediately, and everyone’s jumping to throw open the doors for you. Couple that with the descriptions Ress has given me of the building, and oops, I practically have the run of your home.” They gestured him up the ladder before him — a courtesy to the person who actually lived here, perhaps.

Gaius gripped the ladder and began to climb. “I’m unsure as to how I feel about the idea of you having access like that and the gall to use it.” He almost paused at the first feel of the wind in his hair unhindered by other buildings, but the khagan had already hopped the first few rungs below him, so he clambered out onto the roof tiles.

“Hey, with all the trouble Lord van Ballsack Better-Than-Thee gave me — on two separate, near-apocalyptic occasions — I think I deserve to annoy you once in a while.” Their head popped up grinning with sharp teeth. The red of their hair was even more intense in the sundown, and their pale irises glinted with mischief. “Plus,” they grunted as they pulled themself up, “I thought I should at least make an effort at a rapport with you. If only for Ress’s sake.”

Gaius sat back on his heels from his aborted motion to help Oduyanga up from the ladder. “How…how is he doing?” The last time he’d seen Ressaunt — the Warrior of Light, he corrected himself in a moment of absurd propriety — was less time in the past than it felt. Ressaunt’s pale skin had been just a shade away from dead white, the darkness under his eyes had been even deeper than the fading bruises on his body, and he’d all but collapsed in Gaius’s sitting room. That had prompted a frantic Ser Aymeric de Borel to come rushing through the aetheryte network to spirit him back to Ishgard. And…

“He’s on the mend. We all are, but…he took the worst of it.” They kept their face turned toward the western horizon as they said it.

Gaius simply nodded, without bringing up how every time he’d seen Oduyanga and Ressaunt fight as a team, Oduyanga had many times taken an almost subconscious step forward, placing themself bodily between Ressaunt and the enemy. Even when that enemy wielded the power of three eikons.

“Honestly, I came here partly to get a break.” They offered him one of the flasks as they situated themself with their legs dangling down over the edge of the roof. “As soon as I was well enough to walk again, what do you know, being khagan comes with duties. Cirina had mostly been managing what she could and fending off the rest in my absence, but once Mag and Temulun heard I was back, I was summoned home like a child for suppertime. I only managed to go to Doma — to tell Hien in person that we’re all right — by invoking the foreign-allies excuse. It’s been extremely useful lately. Thank the gods that my term as khagan is only a year.”

“You don’t intend to compete again?”

“I have what I needed from the last Naadam — allies to reclaim Doma, proof of my own worth, and…” Here they paused, fiddling with the cap of their flask before taking a swig from it. “Anybody ever tell you I’m a widower?”

“Nicéphorien is dead?” Gaius blurted. He gathered the full improbability of that an instant after Oduyanga nearly choked on the next sip of their drink.

“Gods forfend. Thybé’s fine. Or as fine as any of us are after…” They waved their hand airily to indicate the arduous prevention of yet another apocalypse. “That. And we’re not married. Haven’t found the blessed time for that. No — no, I was widowed before I met him. Lost my husband in a Naadam. But, as it turns out, when the Au Ra Xaela refer to the Steppe as speaking or alive, they mean the spirits of its warriors. So when I claimed the title of khagan…well, I got my closure, at least.” There were many things not said there, and Gaius did not ask after them. “But I came to talk about — well, you, really. I was serious earlier: I thought you’d be happy.”

“I…” Gaius had no words to say about it. He’d been trying to find the right ones for days now, ever since Ressaunt had looked him in the eyes and told him. “You were right that I…took in many children. Those in whom I saw…potential.”

“And the ones whose fathers went insane with obsession.”

“Cid fit both those criteria, I’ll thank you to recall. But…I could not…I never managed to truly be a father to any of them. I was always a soldier foremost. I did not see them grow up the way I wished them to. And I never made time for any relationships except those. I do not…comprehend how it is one goes about this sort of thing. Either of these sorts of things, a relationship or…”

Oduyanga only gave a soft hum to gently let Gaius know that he did not have to finish that sentence. They kicked their legs back and forth in the empty space below. “I didn’t, either. Still don’t, on the second count. I don’t think Ress knows entirely, either. He has Aymeric for the relationship part, but they both understand that Ress is the kind who wants…more. The kind who can give more. Hien and Thybé and I are the same way. Ress has more love than he can really give to only one person.” They shook their head and tipped their flask back once more. “I’m going meandering again instead of saying what I wanted to say. What I came here to say.”

“I expect it’s something about how if I cause Ressaunt even a whit more hurt than he has already experienced, you shall return it tenfold on the blade of an axe?”

“That part comes later,” Oduyanga laughed.

The brilliant red of the sky had faded to a deeper violet, melancholy and soothing in one, and Oduyanga’s voice softened with it. “I wouldn’t have made it in the Empire. No, not even if I were one of the lucky ones that Legatus van Baelsar fostered. I chafe at…well, everything. And you’ve been on the receiving end of it far more than enough times to know that I have an extremely bad habit of shooting off my mouth when I really should not. No, I wouldn’t have survived as any sort of Garlean, born or subjugated. I almost didn’t survive where I actually was.

“I was always what one might politely call a hellion. As I grew older and did not grow out of my…rebellion, I was called many less kind things. I was considered a nuisance at best and a threat to tribal convention and normalcy at worst. Someday I’d have to settle, they told me — settle into my prescribed role, be who I was always meant to be, not this…oddity, this freak accident of a person who defied every known law of being an Oronir.

“I was convinced no one would ever see me for who I was, that if I stopped fighting, I would be forced into my allocated place with those who bear and rear the tribe’s children. I envied the Dotharl — no one gave so much as a damn what gender a Dotharl was, so long as they were glorious. And I convinced myself that the only way I would ever have a chance to be who I wanted to be was if I were the strongest. If no one dared tell me that I wasn’t what I was supposed to be. I would never bend until I broke myself — die young in a blaze of glory, and no one would ever be able to deny that I was the strongest as myself. I wouldn’t survive on the Steppe — but I could survive at the top of a hill of bones. It was a dark outlook.”

“That seems an understatement,” was all Gaius said. An instinct in him rose, the same instinct that had seen the core of brilliance in Rhitatyn and the steely strength in the children of Werlyt, but he held his tongue again.

“The fact was, I convinced myself of all this so well that when someone did see me as I wanted, as I really wanted to be seen, I didn’t believe him at first. He saw past the strength and the rage and the dead-set conviction that I had to be the best. So when he was kind to me, I thought at first it was a ruse, that he was trying to appeal to me and bring me into the fold. He was next in line to be khan, after all. Thank Azim that he was, in his own way, as stubborn as I was.

“In the end, my hostility got the better of me. I thought I’d force him to show his true colors and simultaneously reinforce that I was the strongest. The Oronir khan is supposed to be the best warrior in the clan, after all — no one would forget the one who had bested their leader. So I challenged him. A battle, one-on-one. And I won. And then, with him on his ass on the ground, my axe sunk into the dirt between his legs, me standing over him…he did something wildly unexpected.”

“And what was that?” He was fairly sure of the answer, and Oduyanga’s smile at the last glimpse of sun over the horizon confirmed it before they even answered.

“He asked me to marry him.”

Gaius couldn’t help the smile that crept up on him too. “And did you accept?”

“It took some convincing after the fact, but eventually? Yes. I did. And…we might not have had long together, but however short it was, and however badly it ended, that was the most happiness I’d ever known. Altan looked at me and saw me. He gave me the chance to be that, to stop having to fight for it. He gave me the time and space to be who I was.”

“I am gladdened that you had that joy. However it ended,” he echoed.

“So am I. I’m grateful to him still. I am who I am now because he gave me the love I needed to be who I was then. Granted, I was still stupid enough for the longest time after Altan to not realize that someone else might eventually want to give me that love again,” they laughed. “But I finally caught on, and now…now, I think I might actually have time to savor it again. I have the chance to be myself — the self I want to be.” Oduyanga nudged Gaius with an elbow, careful to keep the spike at the point gentle against his ribs. “And the point of me laying bare to you my whole sorrowful history is that — you have that chance now too.”

“The chance to…be myself?” Is he…not himself?

“To have a future where you don’t have to fight for it all. You’ve never known much besides fighting, have you?” They gestured to the sky, its color falling gently to darkness like a leaf from a tree, to indicate the wide world and the wider future. “Well, now you have the opportunity to…take time for you.” They hesitated. “And, if you want him, for Ress too. And…for the kid. If…if you choose to — to be a father? You can choose that without having to shed blood for it.”

They lapsed into silence together, the words that had been spoken hanging between them and the ones that hadn’t dancing invisibly in the air. Gaius took three drinks with long pauses between them before Oduyanga said abruptly, “Besides — whether you choose that or not, I’m going to be helping to raise this child. And do you really want me being the only bastard teaching your child right from wrong?”

Gaius mock-shuddered at the very idea of it, and for the first time, the two of them both laughed together. “Khagan, take no offense, for I mean none, but I very much do not want you being the sole adult teaching any child right from wrong.”

“You know the foreign-dignitary thing was just an excuse to get in here, right? You don’t have to use my title. Just call me Oday already, old man. All my friends do.”

Friends. Gaius nodded and let his smile be safe on his face.

Oday raised their flask toward him. “To the wonderful people who give us good things we don’t expect.”

Gaius touched his flask to theirs with a soft clanking of metal. “To futures we never thought we’d have.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Together, they sat on Gaius’s roof and drank until the stars blinked above them.

#ffxiv fic #gaius baelsar #so technically oday isn't THEE warrior of light but they are A warrior of light #got yote into the rift at carteneau and everything #and now they're finally making friends w their bff's babydaddy #when before it was more like #'ress why does guy ballsack over here call you babygirl' 'How About We Stop Talking For A While'#ANYWAY.#i like this one a lot.#oday #oduyanga solongo #the usual suspects #with bonus mention of #thybaltier de nicéphorien #thybé

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seawitch62 · 2 years

Text

Aliens Are Here!

Mark x OC

Fluff, X-Files AU

WC: 1.3k

Fox Mulder : “We send those men up into space to unlock the doors of the universe, and we don’t even know what’s behind them.”

Seriously!

Mark Lee, maybe one of my besties, his Alien obsession aside, he's a nice guy.

"We are not alone"

"The truth is out there"

He sounds like a character straight from The X-Files.

"They change color".

"They look like reptiles".

Where does he find this stuff?

Tonight, apparently the UFO community is a buzz, sightings are cropping up in our vicinity and he wants us to investigate.

Yuta, who he has assured me many times, believes, is busy tonight.

Yeah right!

"Wear a suit"

Why do I have to wear a suit while hunting aliens?

"This guy! Well if nothing else I get to spend time with him" she thinks out loud.

●

After a bite to eat, caffeine fix, Lin, recalls Mark's arrival.

Dressed in a black suit, looking dapper, he excitedly gives details on tonight's happenings.

'Is he serious?'

"Come on, let's get going" he says as he rushes to the door.

Even the vehicle is black.

Feeling like she has joined ranks with Men in Black, Lin hops in the car.

Mark's voice brings her back to the present.

Usually he listens to music, but tonight, it's all alien chatter.

Nodding in agreement the occasional murmur of admiration.

Commenting on his vast knowledge of the subject, Mark's face lights up with a smile.

A strange humm fills the otherwise silent night, barring her companions' voice.

Dashboard lights flicker on and off.

The vehicle sputtering, the power slowly dying, then nothing.

The vehicle is dead.

Mark tries in vain, turning the key in the ignition, nothing!

A smile from ear to ear stretches across his face.

Now that the headlights no longer illuminate the road, she realizes how desolate and dark it is.

"Fuck! We are stuck out in the middle of nowhere!".

Mark reaches into his bag and grabs a can of spray paint.

As he jumps out of the car, "what are you doing?".

she watches in disbelief as he paints a X on the road.

Throwing the can back in the car, "we are gonna have to walk it".

"You got a flashlight?"

"Hmmm. …no"

"Never mind I came prepared"

Handing Lin a flashlight.

"There here!"

"Grab your stuff, let's go" he commands.

●

The road, a long, neverending stretch of bitumen, with every noise, Mark looks around hoping to see an alien lifeform.

"Animals" she mutters.

He will not be swayed, his determination fuelled by his stubbornness.

"My feet are killing me" she mutters.

Mile after mile they walk.

Suddenly on the horizon, flashing lights.

"Oh my Jesus" he yells as he takes off into a sprint.

"What the .."

Running after him.

●

Two Police cruisers, flashing their lights, block his path.

Not perturbed in the least.

He flashes an FBI badge.

"Special Agent Mark Lee, and my companion Lin".

Astounded, 'Omg he's gonna get us arrested!' Lin tells herself.

He proceeds to explain that their car broke down, and can he be of assistance?

"Since you're here, follow me".

The wooded slope, slippery, rustles with each footstep.

"Some wacko called in an UFO sighting, when we got here we found this".

The scorched earth, circular in pattern, covered a lot of ground.

Mark kneels down, feeling the soil with his fingertips, then reaches into his pocket.

'An evidence bag' what the…

As if he had years of experience he fills the bag with the soil and seals it, returning it to his pocket.

Asking pertinent questions, he listens and writes notes in his book.

Thanking them for their time, he enquired if they could kindly drive them back to their vehicle.

They do.

●

The vehicle turns over first go, "can you believe that" Mark yells.

"No".

"I was right! This is proof!" Patting his pocket.

In silence they drive each lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly he screeches the brakes, squealing, making no sense.

"We lost nine minutes"

"Nine minutes"

Totally confused and her pulse beating rapidly, she merely nods.

"Nine minutes" he exclaims.

He starts the car and continues down the long dark road.

An exit sign.

Making the turn he explains the answers are in this town.

●

The town survives on visitors.

Not aliens but those chasing them.

The town's whole culture is alien based.

Even the Diner in which they now sit, aliens memorabilia everywhere.

Even the menu.

Hamburgers named after aliens.

The whole menu in fact is.

" Is the burger made of aliens?"

Lin asks innocently.

For her trouble she receives a kick under the table.

●

After the meal, Mark walks around the diner, flashing his FBI identification, "Special agent Mark Lee".

Asking question after question.

From a distant table a woman comments, "I don't trust that guy, something is odd about him".

Her male companion agrees.

Mark rejoins her at their table, recanting what he has learned.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lin notices a well dressed, attractive couple making their way to their table.

"Special agent Fox Mulder and my partner Special agent Dana Scully" as they proceed to show their badges.

'Fuck fuck fuck' Lin now believing they are about to be arrested.

"Mind if we join you" Mulder says as they sit down.

"What brings you to this town,"

"Looking for aliens?" Mulder questions.

Mark, who is bubbling with pure excitement, blurts out "yes we are".

Both Lin and Scully roll their eyes.

Mulder stares intently at Mark.

"We lost nine minutes," Mark blurts out.

Now this grabs the Agents attention.

Demanding to know where and when, with an authoritative tone, Mark answers all his questions.

"Have you ever been abducted?"

Mulder enquiries.

"No"

Mulder stands up, "show us where".

Mulder drives with Scully beside him, Mark and Lin occupy the backseats.

Once they arrive at the spot, the X is clearly visible.

Mulder whispers to Scully, "it's a hot spot of alien activity".

Mark goes on to explain the scorched earth further ahead.

Mulder, now clearly interested, jumps back in the car.

"Come on" he states in a raised voice.

The Police have long since left the scene, but the yellow tape, 'Do not cross' is everywhere.

Clearly marking the area.

Mulder and Mark are the first to reach the area.

Both staring in fascination.

Mulder bends down, his fingertips roaming over the scorched soil.

Reaching into is suit pocket, "damn it"

"Scully do have a evidence bag?"

Silently she hands him one, everyone watches as he fills the bag with the scorched soil.

"Evidence, Scully, proof positive!".

"Yes Mulder" she quietly answers.

"Now let's get you two back to your vehicle" Mulder states as he heads back to the car.

●

Mulder passes his card to Mark, "if you hear or see anything contact me".

Mark says he most certainly will.

With that Mulder and Scully disappear into the night.

"Wow can you believe it"

Mark's happiness overflowed.

"No" Lin answers honestly.

As they drive back to her place, He babbles constantly about aliens, FBI agents.

The headlights now in her driveway, Mark a hyper mess of conspiracies and Alien phenomenon.

"Coffee? Do you want to come in for coffee?" She asks.

"I would love that, but I can't"

"I have to write up my report and send to the UFO community"

"Raincheck"

He nods in agreement, his mind miles away.

She watches as he disappears into the night.

"Special agent Mark Lee" she chuckles.

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hibernationsuit · 5 months

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3 11 aaaand 21 for either toby or klara (or both if u feel up for it 👀)

AAAAA thank u 🥺🤍

3. What is something they really like about themselves and what is something you really like about them?

Toby: I think something he likes the most is that despite everything, he's still living his life the way he wants and, well, he exists. Also he likes being optimistic!! (or at least looking like he's optimistic) No one is taking that away from him <3 I personally love his determination to fight unjust things. Whistleblow your old work bc of unethical research? Stand against the Board bc they made the colony full of inequality? you go my guy

Klara: She loves her indepencence and ability not to people please. Something that her aunt taught her since childhood so she could stand up for herself and have a good life. I personally love how organized she is. I mean yeah i do to do lists and sometimes plan out my (work) weeks but do i always follow it? nah.

11. What is an item of clothing/an accessory that completes them/makes them feel safe?

Toby: oversized soft sweaters that have funny patterns!!! the softness and warmth make him feel so much better <3 sometimes he also feels good wearing some kind of a suit, ones that aren't slim/tight and that are made from materials that feel nice <3

Klara: colorful hoodies! warm, funny and can be used in many situations 👍

21. Which new skills they would really like to learn?

Toby: Embroidery! He already does knitting & crocheting so why not add another craft skill hehehehe <3 Not a new skill technically but he'd love to work on his first aid skills a bit more, he got a bit rusty and quickly realized how important it is on Halcyon........

Klara: cooking soups sjfjkfkfkffk I mean. She wants to like cooking and would love to get better at it BUT she's always scared that it won't work so :') but she found lots of good soup recipes that she wants to try out <3

wholesome oc ask game 🤍

#asks #oc: tobias #oc: klara #THANK UUUU AAAAA

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kikis-writing-world · 2 years

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Can you give us any more information on your Oberyn/Ellaria wip please?? 😊

Happily! Thanks so much for asking! I'm guessing you mean the reincarnation/soul mate fic, since the A/B/O doesn't for sure have Ellaria in it yet... If I'm wrong, just let me know and I'll talk about that one too lol

More info on some of my WIPs here. Check it out and let me know if there's any that interest you!

In the canon era, Seren (F!OC) works for a cruel man who has underpaid her and mistreated her as a way of keeping her from leaving. He boasts being one of the finest tailors in Dorne, but is really taking credit for her hard work. Oberyn is gifted a sash she embroidered and loves it. He and Ellaria track down where it is from and go to meet the person making them.

Visiting the little shop, they see through the lies. They realize Seren is doing all of the work and offer her a job at the palace instead, where she'll be compensated fairly for her work. Of course she jumps at the chance. Over time, interest between the 3 grows into a full relationship.

I have plans for how it follows canon (loosely anyways, it's still fanfiction lol) up until... well, until the trio becomes a duo... then a single... then a none. Very sad, very angsty, and Doran is a bit of a prick after his brother dies.

BUT THE STORY ISN'T OVER, BECAUSE REINCARNATION AND I DO WHAT I WANT

Modern day, Seren is a student at a fashion institute. She is struggling to pull together a collection as a final project, which includes a runway fashion show. Enter Ellaria, a newer fashion model who is starting to get noticed. She is going to work the fashion show and works with Seren closely to make sure the garments are perfectly tailored to her body. Ellaria is charming, charismatic and openly affectionate to those in her circle (we know this) so it isn't a surprise that Seren starts to fall for her...

That crumbles when Ellaria's fiancé appears... doesn't it? The universe gives our trio a second chance at a happy ending, because they deserve it.

Below the cut is an early version of the prologue, when it was "Reader" and not an OC. I still love the way it's written and how it begins weaving their stories together.

WARNINGS: Unedited/Unbetaed. Mentions of mistreatment (Seren is more or less forced into a sweat-shop kind of situation,) mention of a parent's passing,

The room was hot and stuffy, sweat threatening to drip into your eyes as you worked. You spared a moment to wipe your brow with the back of your hand, making sure to keep your palms and fingers as dry as possible. Sewing with sweaty hands wasn’t easy, and you needed to finish this scarf quickly. You’d already been berated for it taking so long in the first place and, if Damek was to be believed, the customer was coming to pick it up today. It wouldn’t be the first time he had lied to get you to work harder, work faster, to push your limits. Still, you didn’t dare slow down on the chance that he was telling the truth.

The scarf was so ornate, he never should have promised the turnaround he did. The stitching so small it appeared as fine lines across the silken fabric, the pattern so detailed. You had been working on it for so many hours you were seeing it in your dreams - the short time you were allowed to sleep for, anyway. The cream fabric, the golden thread, it all swirled together as you slept, like a magical potion.

You didn’t know what time it was, unable to see how high the blazing Dornish sun sat in the sky. There were no windows in the back room, lest someone find you working. No one was to know that Damek wasn’t the tradesman behind the delicate stitching. The bold, stylized “D” of a logo that was supposed to brand each piece as his was a slap in the face every time you stitched it. It was your blood, sweat and tears that went into every garment, not his.

You’d thought about leaving, but it was a fleeting fantasy. A fairy tale you whispered to herself as you fell asleep, trying to invoke happy dreams. Your own colourful shop in the market. Happy townsfolk breezing in and out to browse. Taking orders for bespoke pieces such as the one in your hands now. A bright smile on your face as you reaped the benefits of your hard work. A smile so wide, you weren’t even sure you knew how to anymore.

The last stitch was finally done. You thanked the gods you had completed it before Damek had a chance to charge into the room, demanding the finished piece. Your fingers were numb from working hours without stopping. Even the calluses you had spent years growing as you mastered sewing were no match for the amount of work the scarf had needed.

You laid it out on the table, carefully examining for any errors or loose threads. Damek had told you it was for an important customer. You thought all of your customers were important, but you knew what he was implying. The scarf was for a rich customer. Someone was going to pay handsomely for all the hours of work. Too bad you would see next to none of that coin.

The wages had diminished slowly over time. At first Damek paid you for your time, supplying all the threads and fabrics you needed to create the pieces. Soon he would take more money away if you requested premium fabrics, promising to share the profits when the more expensive item sold. He never did. After that, he decided to charge you for room and board. It was a small price at first, but it grew steadily. You had been making enough to buy most things you fancied and keep a small stash of savings. Now he fed you scraps for the withheld money and you received a copper or two a month - unless he forgot, of course.

Nowhere to go, not enough coin to survive elsewhere, so you stayed. You sewed. You daydreamed of a better future, or your happy childhood before your mother’s passing, but reality always crashed down.

“Is it done yet, girl?” Damek huffed as he opened the door to your room. It brought in a breeze, still warm from the hot climate but cooling enough in the cramped space. “The customer is makin’ their way through town. Be here any minute.”

You smoothed the fabric out with your hands, pressing out any wrinkles as you finished her once-over. “Yes. I just finished it.”

“Good, giv’it here.” He ordered, holding out his beefy hand. You folded the scarf carefully, not wanting anything to happen to it before it got to the customer. Hours and hours went into making it the treasure it was now; something you were proud of despite the conditions you had created it in.

“Yes, this’ll do.” He nodded, looking over the embroidery. He haphazardly unfolded it, making you flinch. He examined the corner, making sure that the logo - his logo - was properly stitched into the piece. He ran a large finger over it, smiling widely. If this scarf was going to a rich customer, he wanted to make sure anyone who asked where it came from would be directed right back to him. He didn’t even look back at you as he left the room, eyes locked on the shimmering fabric woven into the cream coloured silk.

He’d left you with no orders. No bespoke pieces to be made or colourful garments to entice passersby to stop in. You felt your body sag in relief and exhaustion. Leaning against the wall, you let yourself close your eyes. He might wake you in 10 minutes or he might wake you in an hour, but until then you would rest.

Oberyn smiled down at little Loreza, sitting in his lap and reaching for the shiny gold chain he’d just unwrapped. Her eyes were wide as she reached her chubby little palms out for it as it glittered in the sun streaming through the pillars of the courtyard.

“I think Loreza may like it even more than I do.” He joked, winking at Elia who had chosen the gift for him. He let the girl grasp at the metal, feeling it in her hands as she cooed at the jewellery.

“She likes pretty things, just like her mother.” Ellaria added with a smile.

“She likes expensive things, just like her mother.” Oberyn countered, making the older sand snakes laugh. The younger ones joined in even if they didn’t understand the joke. They wanted to be part of the festivities and cheer.

Ellaria scoffed, feigning annoyance despite the smile on her face.

“My turn, Papa!” Obella begged, holding something behind her back. “Dorea and I picked it out together.”

“Alright, alright, little love.” Oberyn chuckled, calming his daughter as he set aside the golden chain. Loreza watched it go, reaching for it as it fell farther from her grasp.

Obella skipped up to her father before revealing the hidden present. In her hands she held a scarf, cream coloured with golden accents. Her face was full of excitement as she eagerly awaited her father’s reaction.

“Oh darling, it’s beautiful.” He gushed, taking it gently out of her hands. He unfolded the fabric, examining the shiny golden thread that was so finely woven into the silk. Loreza babbled in agreement as she clutched a corner in her tiny fist. “You two picked this out all on your own?”

“Mama he’ped.” Dorea chimed in, making Obella nod in agreement.

Oberyn ran a finger over the delicate stitching, making the shape of a sun. He followed the pattern, watching as it pieced together elements of a story. The legend of the forming of Sunspear told through golden swirls. Down in the corner, a flourished “D” stood as the mark of the artist.

“I love it.” He told them honestly. “I can’t wait to wear it.”

“I he’p!” Dorea popped up as fast as her little legs would let her. She took the silken cloth out of her father’s hands, having to tug a little to get it away from her youngest sister.

Oberyn laughed as the child draped his shoulders in the cloth. When she finished, he pulled her tightly to his side, kissing the crown of her head as he thanked her.

He felt the scarf-turned-shawl adjust over his shoulders. He didn’t need to look to recognize the gentle touch of his paramour. He leaned into it, relishing the attention.

“Good Name Day, my love?” Ellaria purred into his ear as she smoothed the fabric over his shoulders.

“Perfect.” He sighed, bouncing little Loreza in his lap as he squeezed Dorea once more.

#WIP talks #wookie tales #anonymous

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dani-luminae · 2 years

Note

Apparently tumblr ate my ask. Hurt and upset. 😤 anyway, fic writer asks, 7, 8, 9 and 10 (for the question about kudos, idk if quotev has an equivalent but if it doesn't then just fave/follows?)

HOW DARE YOU, TUMBLR

See, this is why I make the announcements about it - best case scenario it's a glitch and no one cares, but the worst case scenario is TUMBLR ATE A TREASURED MUTUAL'S ASK. Bad Tumblr! *whacks Tumblr on the head with an empty paper towel roll*

Anyway. Onto the questions,

7. what is you favourite sentence/paragraph?

I'm gonna decline to read it to you all in an audio way, but I'd have to pick this little exchange from Ties to Evil, a fic I technically co-own with @thetimelordbatgirl, who's OC Jayra is in it:

"What are you doing here?!" Adam screamed across the deck. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!" Jayra screamed back. Cordelia and Minnie shared a look. Did they want the entire Isle to hear their yelling match? Because if they kept this up, the whole Isle was going to hear them. Adam crossed his arms. "I left Auradon to come back to the Isle to try and find a solution for everything!" He said loudly. Jayra copied his pose. "Well... me too!" "I left a note for the others!" "Me too!" There was a pause in which both of them stood there with their arms crossed, glaring at each other, as they came to the same conclusion. "We're both in so much trouble, aren't we?" Adam said. Jayra snorted. "Oh, no joke."

(Ties to Evil basically combines the plots of D2 and the second Descendants book, Return to the Isle of the Lost, so if any plot here feels familiar, it should. Also the Adam named here is not Beast but Beast's grandson who was named after him, just to clear that up.)

8. if you got a computer virus that deleted all your fics but had just enough time to save one before they were wiped out, which fic would you pick and why?

Oh good lord, this is torture to pick. Can I skip? No? Fine. On principle I'm sure you'd expect me to pick RTS/NE or LFTS, but honestly I would probably leap to save Tales of Auradon: An Untold Story. It's the longest-running fic I have, technically, and I've put so much into it.

9. the “you got kudos“ e-mail is usually much appreciated, but is there a fic you wish you didn’t get these e-mails for? if so, which one and why?

Quotev does not have kudos nor do they send emails for like any reason. It has likes/hearts on stories, which is basically "how many people have this added to their library and will get notifs for updates," but I am not notified of that; it's up to me to pay attention if I care, and honestly, I don't pay attention. What I get notified for are comments, and I welcome almost all comments except for a particular copy-and-paste comment account that turns up every once in a while.

And while I love comments, I do get a kind of anxiety over seeing new comments appear on really old fics. It happens rarely but it does happen.

10. what word do you keep using like it’s going out of style?

Beats me, I don't pay attention to my own patterns much. Occasionally I'll notice that I'm using a word too much, but that only happens once in a while. Last time I realized that I was fond of the word "astonished" and I couldn't tell you if I'm out of that phase or not.

Thank you for the asks!

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fourpinespt · 2 years

Text

Oh My Hammy!

Dr. Norene Christensen, PT, DSc, OCS

At some point in our athletic endeavors, we have experienced a high hamstring strain (at the base of the butt) or mid muscle strain. Hamstring injuries may occur after accumulated repetitive microscopic trauma or in response to a single event exceeding the limits of the muscle-tendon unit. This means that we can have a low-level chronic pain due to ongoing decline in tissue integrity from poor mechanics or poor training (ie running) or we can have a one-time event that tears the muscle or ruptures the tendon (waterskiing accident). In sporting events, a common mechanism of hamstring injury is with sudden sprinting or kicking. In daily life a common mechanics of injury is slipping (on loose dirt or ice) or falling forward and trying to catch oneself. Unfortunately, a history of previous hamstring injury increases your risk of another hamstring injury by 2.7 times.

For chronic “base of butt” or mid hamstring pain, it is important to rule out other possible causes such as adductor muscle injury, lumbar spine radiculopathy or proximal hamstring tendinopathy. For acute high hamstring injuries x-rays may be necessary to rule out avulsion fracture of the ischial tuberosity (where the hamstrings attach to the pelvis) or an MRI to evaluate tendon rupture(s) and retraction.

To best care for yourself after a hamstring injury can be multifactorial and dependent upon the mechanism of injury.

For high velocity injuries which result from sudden sprinting, hard kicking, falling forward skiing (or water skiing) or slipping on ice that results in a significant amount of pain at the base of your buttock. Do not stretch as you will want to be evaluated by your orthopedist to rule out avulsion fracture and or avulsion of the hamstring tendon(s) which may require in surgery. If you avulse 2 or more tendons and they retract more than 2 cm from the bone, it is best to have this repaired sooner or later for best functional outcomes. From there you will see your favorite physical therapist to begin the rehabilitation process to return you to sport or the activities you love to do. This rehab process can take up to 6 months depending on your post-surgical outcomes, pain levels and activity levels.

For chronic high hamstring pain with running or other activities, you may need to work on different areas of your body as well as your hamstring. You may need to address loss of mobility and flexibility in your spine, hips and legs which may contribute to your hamstrings overworking. Addressing strength imbalances or dysfunctional motor patterns that have developed over the years may help take some of the strain off the hamstrings. The body is a beautiful compensator and sometimes you just don’t realize that you may be weak in key stabilizing muscles. Have your running mechanics assessed by a professional that will video tape you and work with you to change your mechanics to improve efficiency and reduce microtrauma to the area. Our hamstrings are important pelvic and core stabilizers so utilizing exercises geared towards stabilization in functional patterns will help tie the hamstrings into your core. Finally, will need to train eccentrically for tendon health but also for the function of the hamstring during running, sprinting, and kicking (Askling L-Protocol and more).

For return to running or return to your sport it is wise to implement different running or movement drills into your rehab. Lower-level drills can be implemented immediately as long as they are pain-free with advanced drills being performed as pain reduces.

As with most injuries, stretching may be done with a sensation of “strain” not “pain”. Hamstring pain will dictate whether you can progress your program to the next level. Once you can walk without pain you may begin a graded running program. There are many programs out there to follow but an example of a return to running protocol accounts for greater acceleration distances and gradual intensity increases at high percentage of maximal velocity over time. These programs include walking, at 50% max velocity, 80% max velocity towards 100% while varying distances and may be progressed if pain-free.

At Four Pines Physical Therapy, we have PTs that are certified in running rehabilitation and will take the time to properly rehab you back into your sport utilizing appropriate therapeutic techniques, exercises, video assessments and more. Our PTs will help you with your return to a running program or general fitness program that achieves your goals.

Hamstring injuries are common in runners and other athletes as well as the general community due to chronic stress to the tissues or due to a sudden high-speed injury. Whether you have surgery to reattach tendons that have torn off and retracted or want to address the nagging pain with activity, the therapists of Four Pines Physical Therapy will develop the most appropriate treatment plan for you.

Call us for a free 20-minute consultation for more information on how we can help you.

Example of HS

Standing HS stretch with leg on bench

Supine hip flexion HS stretch

Eccentric Exercises �� supine tband, Nordic hamcurls, reachers, glider

#hamstrings #injuryprevention #fourpinespt #Wyoming

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1kook · 3 years

Text

one man, no hands

— a some way, some how jungkook drabble summary “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.” warnings established relationship, mechanic jungkook, business woman oc, cunnilingus / eatin out, jk is dirty like in the literal sense rating m (18+) wc 2.5k

notes am i confident in the title? no. am i stubborn and feel like it has to follow this pattern out of some weird self made obligation? yes, please help me. anyway here is 🔧⚙️ jk and his hot girlfriend once more <3

For the most part, you like to believe you were a pretty composed person. Sure, there are a few instances in your personal history where you exploded, sobbed, cursed the planet to hell and back. But given your chosen career track and the amount of stupidity you dealt with on a daily basis, you’re significantly more mild-mannered compared to your peers. That being said, you were by no means the dictionary definition of serene. After a long day of meeting clients around the city, a rather unsatisfying lunch, and atrocious city traffic—all while breaking in a new pair of heels—there was nothing more satisfying than pulling up to Jungkook’s empty auto shop and huffing out one long, “fuuuck.”

Jungkook doesn’t mind. “Hey, gorgeous,” he calls from over his shoulder, looming over the open hood of yet another innocent vehicle. The metal table beside him holds every tool imaginable. “How’s my sexy department manager doing today?”

“Terrible,” you confess, heels clicking against the concrete floor. You realize he’s hunched over his own car today, a rather rare sight if you’re being completely honest. Jungkook wasn’t the biggest fan of working on his own car(s) at the shop, something about pride and refusing to admit something was wrong with them in front of people who looked up to him. Men, you chuckle, finally closing in on him.

He’s terribly sweaty, the sweltering heat turning the inside of the garage into a human microwave. “How’s my sexy mechanic doing today,” you hum, throwing all reservations aside to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek. Jungkook, as always, makes sure to nuzzle into the touch.

“Pretty good,” he replies, taking advantage of your affectionate nature to set aside the tool that had been in his hand. You watch his sturdy fingers reach for the hood of the car, carefully shutting it because he knows you hate the smell of metal. The rag tucked into the pocket of his red jumpsuit is littered with stains, and the half-assed wipe of his hands against it doesn’t help.

When he turns, that same hand attempts to reach for you, the remnants of oil buried beneath the tips of his fingernails. “Hey,” you warn, intercepting him at the wrist; you’ve spent one too many nights at the local laundromat trying to remove oil from tweed.

Jungkook frowns, shakes his head to the side in that infuriatingly sexy way that not only lets you see the dark furrow of his shapely brows, but also has the tendons in his neck bulging just the slightest. “Give me a kiss,” he pouts, pretty pink lips fighting off a smile. “I missed you.”

Hands holding onto his wrists, you lean forward, your pointed heel tapping against the dirty toe of his work boots.

One of your greatest contributions to society was introducing Jungkook to strawberry flavored chapstick, a deed that the universe pays you back tenfold with each kiss he bestows upon you, lips so soft and sweet. If you look past the distinct smells of the auto shop and Jungkook’s own natural scent, you swear you can smell the strawberries.

It is as you’re trapped in this train of thought that Jungkook manages to overpower you, abruptly stepping forward enough to throw you off balance. Your gravity shifts, and while your heartbeat may spike for a moment, you know he’d never let you fall. “Easy there, beautiful,” he grins, one tatted arm wrapped around you. He’s got that stupidly cocky grin on, the one that usually proceeds some stupid or horny thought.

Lo and behold, a second later he says, “can I eat you out?”

You roll your eyes, placing two hands against his chest. Jungkook takes it as a sign of your approval and moves in for a second kiss, only for you to shove him away with a huff. “You haven’t even showered, smelly,” you chide, straightening out the front of your blazer in a rather snooty manner that has Jungkook scoffing.

“Please?” he tries again, not the slightest bit phased by the unimpressed look you throw his way. “I’ll wash my hands.”

“Jungkook,” you level, settling into one of the many rolling seats that decorate the floor of Jungkook’s garage, your cell phone placed down on the metal table nearby. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the familiar paper wrapping of the deli down the street, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you eat at Shin’s for lunch? I don’t want your onion breath on my intimates.”

Jungkook steps in front of you, looking down at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Well then,” he says calmly, and then, drops to his knees in front of you. It has you jolting in surprise. Before you can accidentally send yourself rolling across the floor, Jungkook catches your ankle in one hand, tugging you forward until your knee presses against his side. “It’s a good thing that was Jimin’s lunch and not mine.”

“Kook,” you gasp, the muscles in your legs weak against the grip he has on the back of your knees. The muscles in his forearms tense up as he slowly pries your thighs apart, leaning down to place a rather soft kiss against your knee. The tenderness of his kiss shouldn’t be surprising, but it never fails to make you inhale sharply, hands slowly coming to rest against his shoulders.

The brush of your fingers against him has his eyes flickering up to meet yours, strawberry sweet lips curling into a smile. “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.”

One shaky exhale later, you find yourself slowly nodding along, fingers burying themselves within the dark tresses of his hair. “No hands,” you remind him one final time, letting him manhandle you out of your panties. “And be gen—“

Your words are swallowed up by the surprised squeak that slips through your lips upon Jungkook’s first long lick over your slit. “I’ve got you,” he chuckles, the low and breathy kind that makes your skin tingle. “Hold on to me.”

“What the— fuck!” you exclaim, pulling at his hair in sheer fright when he whirls your chair around suddenly, pushes you the three feet until your chair is bumping against the front of his bumper, appropriately named. “Jungkook,” you scold, roughly yanking him up by his hair. “Don’t do that.”

“Shh,” he hushes, but the shock still has your heart thumping a little too quickly. You pinch his ear. Jungkook shakes you off just as quickly, throws you a childish glare. “You’ll need the support.”

The opportunity to question him never comes, because a second later Jungkook is tugging you forward in your seat, knees neatly placed over his shoulders for easy access to your pussy. You did need the support, you realize, back pressed against the curve of the hood as Jungkook begins the rather torturous process of teasing you.

As promised, his hands rest over your thighs, thick fingers digging into the soft skin as he descends upon you, one featherlight kiss pressed against your mound. The polite greeting of his lips is followed by the not-so-polite greeting of his tongue, the warm and wet muscle caressing your clit.

Your breathing hitches, a pleasant warmth settling in your core. It blossoms quickly, stamps out the remnants of fear from a few minutes ago. Jungkook’s tongue plays a key role in that change, nudging your clit back and forth carefully as he listens to the subtle alterations in your breathing.

After the day you’ve had, the delicate way Jungkook laps against you has you melting, both into his touch and against the cold metal of the hood behind you. “Oh,” you pant, eyelids fluttering at the kiss he places against your labia.

He’s relatively quiet today, just soft sighs against your cunt. Without his hands, you’re surprised by how easily he navigates his way along your lips, tongue nudging your folds apart. The round tip of his nose throws you for a loop as he kisses down your slit, the soft skin unintentionally brushing against your throbbing clit. (Or maybe intentionally— you never really knew with Jungkook.)

At your quivering entrance, he pauses, pulling back with glistening lips and dark eyes. “Good?” he murmurs, tongue peeking out at the corner to trace across his red lips. Another shake of his head, dark strands tickling his cheekbones.

“So good,” you exhale, releasing one hand from it’s trembling grip in his hair. You press it against the side of Jungkook’s face instead. Briefly, the tips of your fingers brush against his ear, an action that makes his eyelashes flutter, mouth dropping open just as your thumb presses against his lower lip. “Make me cum,” you command, as if you aren’t completely at his mercy right now.

Still, Jungkook humors you. His pearly teeth playfully bite down against your thumb, a smile making its way across his features when you pull away. “You got it, boss,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “You’re the boss here,” you mumble, shivers running down your spine when he ducks back down once more.

Lips suctioned around your clit, your thighs quiver beneath his touch. A soft whine pulls itself from your throat, hand jerking forward to grasp at the white undershirt he’s got on, stained like always. Jungkook ups the intensity, pulling away with a loud pop only to bestow a chaste kiss against your sensitive clit. “Please,” you whimper. It takes every last remaining ounce of self-control to keep yourself from accidentally clamping your legs shut around him, hips jerking forward as he licks his way down your slit once more.

His tongue dips its way between your folds, over your quivering opening, as if he’s circling where he’ll pleasure you next. A second later, you feel your entire body tense up momentarily as he slips his tongue in. It’s nowhere near as girthy as his cock, barely comes close to two of his fingers. But there’s something about Jungkook being so close, mouth against your pussy, that sends a shock of electricity straight there.

“Oh— Oh, god,” you sigh, head lolling back, tapping against the hood of Jungkook’s car.

The fingers digging into your skin tighten to the point of bruising, his hands growing anxious with every breathless moan drawn out from you. His plush lower lip is warm against your puffy skin, hot breath fanning over your wet folds as his tongue slowly works its way in and out. Slow, painstakingly slow. The speed has you growing restless, legs threatening to lock around his head, pushing him against your cunt until he can’t breathe.

It’s a good thing Jungkook is the one in control, his flattened tongue trailing one, long lick over your pussy. It starts at your entrance, glistening with arousal and his saliva, and ends at your clit. You’re almost certain you can feel your heartbeat through the bundle of nerves, releasing a loud cry at the way the tip of his tongue flicks against it once more.

The muscles in your legs, tired from walking all across the city, spasm beneath his ministrations. Your shoulders, tight from the weight of your responsibilities, relax back against the warm metal hood. Every kiss Jungkook places against you has you melting, feeling so unbelievably pampered. “Fuck, J- Jungkook— baby,” you whimper, letting go of his shoulder to bite down on your knuckles.

Jungkook breathes harshly against you, brows furrowed together as he focuses on making you feel good. The sight of his handsome face buried between your thighs makes you shiver, jolt when he pushes his tongue into your entrance once more and begins slowly thrusting it in and out. It’s so wet, mixes with your arousal and makes this lewd sound that only fans the flames of your pleasure, fingernails pressed against his shoulders and then burying themselves against his scalp.

It doesn’t take much longer, fatigue and pleasure catching up to you all at once, accumulating in a toe-curling orgasm unlike your usual ones. It’s quieter, filled with stuttered gasps instead, Jungkook’s name occasionally finding its way into the mix. By the end of it, you find yourself fretting over the state of your boyfriend’s scalp, having pulled it roughly at the height of your pleasure.

“How cute,” Jungkook hums softly, eventually releasing one of your trapped legs from over his shoulder. He rubs the back of his hand over his mouth and chin, transferring a dark stain of something onto his porcelain skin. In that moment, you’re glad you banned the usage of his hands on your pussy. Without anything to hold it up, your leg slips down, the impact of your heel against the concrete sending a tingling pain up your leg.

“Ouch,” you murmur, and then find yourself demurely covering your exposed pussy, still glistening with cum and saliva. At your modesty, Jungkook snorts, releasing your other leg only to surge forward and knock his forehead against yours. “Ouch,” you repeat, the stinging pain exacerbated when Jungkook pushes himself closer.

“So, what do you say?” he asks, smiles that devilish smile that makes him look like a Calvin Klein model. His hands are at your waist, helping you tug your skirt back down. It’s nothing grand, but your rose-tinted view makes you swoon at the way he manhandles you. He’s dangerously handsome, has you mindlessly wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Say about what?” you mumble, hypnotized by the cherry hue of his lips, and the fact they probably taste like you.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, like he’s going to kiss you. Instead, he pauses just in time to say, “how was my onion breath?”

You’ve never pushed someone away fast enough, nearly impaling him with the sharpened heel of your shoe against his chest. It sends him tumbling back, a rough cough mixed with a boyish chuckle, the dorky kind as he sprawls himself over the dirty concrete floor of his auto shop. It’s as you’re glaring down at your immature boyfriend and what you’re certain is a tiny puddle of motor oil beside his head, that you realize this is your life now. Men, you think bitterly.

“I hate you,” you announce childishly. You find your discarded panties on the metal table beside a goddamn wrench. You fling it at his chest, only the slightest bit turned on when he raises it up for a sniff. “Mmm,” he purrs, letting the flimsy fabric rest over his eyes. You don’t even have it in you to scold him on how dirty that is, instead nudging his side with your shoe. “You know,” he says, catching your ankle in his hand. He guides your foot over him, surprising you when he places it directly over his chest. “I had a dream like this in high school,” he confesses, making your face heat up. “Think it was because of those 50 Shades of Grey books we found in your attic.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #mine #swshd

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jackalopedoodles · 3 years

Text

I don’t normally do this kind of content but @prof-peach opened up for OCs and I couldn’t resist! Jackie’s less of an OC and more of my self insert for the games but have her anyways! :)

Jackie is a tried and true Driftveil girl, and as such is pretty harsh. She grew up playing with the rock types that were often around there and getting lost in caves, and as such her trademark stubbornness grew. She’s the type to get lost and refuse to ask for directions, instead trying every single road possible until she stumbles on the right one. It’s slow and very much beating your head against a wall but it works and she has yet to see it fail her.

As soon as she was granted her first Pokémon she found her true passion. Pokémon themselves.

Her first Pokémon like many naive young trainers was a fire type, and by golly was it a hectic time in the early stages.

Her father had sent her a Pokémon from where he had moved, the Johto region, and as such Charcoal became her very first partner, a rather rambunctious cyndaquil who’d prefer to fight than hide.

Time has passed and she has managed to screw a bit more of a reasonable head on her shoulders now.

She’s stopped traveling, mostly after discovering the costs of constantly being on the move, and instead managed to settle into Dotaku Island. She’s not great with the grass types but that’s not why she’s there, let’s be honest.

While the island may specialize in grass types it also gets many rejects, and with those come many many fire. She’s the one to call when you have a fire type being too unruly or chaotic, where she’ll come in, scoop up the creature or tempt it away from where it can cause harm. She essentially does damage control, making sure no other Pokémon can be seriously hurt by the traumatized fire Pokémon that make their way to the island.

She’s got a lot of burns on her body, maybe a third of them from her younger years first dealing with fire types. The ones on her hands however are typically from her awful cooking, she’ll pull cookies out of the oven, realize there’s no space on the counters, and then just stand there holding them while they burn her fingers because she doesn’t know what to do and she doesn’t want to drop them or burn them by placing them back in the oven.

She’s had quite a few mistakes and the scars on her body are there to prove it but never once has she thought about giving up and stopping caring for Pokémon. She knows from personal experience how hard fire types can be to handle and she wants to do her best to give them all a second chance, to teach others the same stubbornness she has, to get them to care enough to stick past the burns and pain until you get to the Pokémon themself.

TEAM:

(Not pictured) Charcoal the Typhlosion

As mentioned before, Charcoal is a pokemon always raring for a fight, and at first that included with or without his trainers consent. For a while Jackie found herself running after her pokemon as he got into fights, at first scooping him up when he wouldn’t listen. Eventually the trademark burns on her upper arms happened, another incident where she thought the best way to stop Charcoal was to physically keep him from fighting and he reacted in kind by breathing fire on the arms that held him in place. Somehow Jackie managed not to drop the pokemon. Eventually the cyndaquil tired himself out and, with a bit of guilt on both sides, the two of them got down to coming to an understanding, Jackie admitting she’d take him out for more exercise and fighting as long as he waited for her permission before attacking somebody elses pokemon.

Now he’s evolved to a full Typhlosion where he follows his trainer around waiting for someone to look at them wrong so he can fight them. He helps her dealing with the bigger fire types who need a good smack before they can be calm enough to listen.

(Pictured) Rorsch and Tuskki, the twins, Espeon and Umbreon

Rorsch and Tsukki aren’t actually twins. That’s the first thing. Jackies first Pokémon she wanted to catch was an eevee, the tiny fuzzy Pokémon sounded like an amazing cuddle partner and an easy enough first catch, and she quickly managed to find and capture Rorsch. However on the train home she found an eevee, sleeping under the seats, angry and alone. She took the same train every night and eventually it became common sight for passengers to see the two reviews curled up around her sleeping form. She caught Tsukki and the two have been close ever since. They did everything together despite their very different natures, Tsukki brash and quick to judge and Rorsch calmly and logically.

When the two evolved (Tsukki first surprisingly and Rorsch the upcoming dawn) Rorsch made it a habit to clean up after both his trainer and his brother with his new psychic abilities and Tsukki used his unique patterning to light up the nights so the trio could always see where they’re going. They tend to stick quite close to Jackie and if you see the twins their trainer isn’t far away, while her other pokemon take to wandering a bit more.

(Not pictured) Chip a Kabutops

Chip is another abandoned pokemon, though Jackies meeting with him was a bit more aggressive than Tsukkis.

Fossil recovery is a newer process and not every trainer knows what they’re going to get. As far as Jackie can tell, Chip was recovered and the trainer was put off by his looks, so they released him out onto the beach. Unfortunately introducing any new pokemon into the wild where they don’t belong can be bad, especially if that pokemon is new to this world entirely and has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He lashed out a lot at the wildlife until he managed to secure himself a bit of a home, constantly fighting anyone who came near. Eventually Jackie heard tell of it and curiosity got the better of her. A few fights between Charcoal and Chip and a big hug for the scared pokemon and Chip felt much more comfortable leaving safely with Jackie then defending himself constantly.

He was already evolved when Jackie got to him, probably from his constant fighting. Now he wanders from Jackies side a lot, not comfortable with other pokemon, and instead can be found in the caves and beaches doing as he wishes until dinner time. He tries his best not to lash out to any other pokemon but he’s still scared he’ll have to defend himself and his new home and it’s hard to break that habit, so Jackie is more than willing to give him the space to just be alone. Besides, he always comes back when he needs a hug.

(Pictured) Sol (?)

Sols not an official part of the team in as much as he doesn’t have a pokeball, but he seems to have made himself part of it anyways. Jackie’s not sure how he managed to get onto the island or what his past is, but she is sure that he’s pretty young, quick to throw temper tantrums as he teethes his tusks, and practically stuck like glue to her ankles. The other pokemon have taken a liking to the tiny guy, as has Jackie, but she’s adamant to find his original trainer, if any, before she goes about adopting him permanently.

Hope you enjoyed, I know it’s very long but I was having fun writing it and getting some of my pokemons stories out on paper- er- digital paper.

#pokemon #prof-peach #professor peach #dotaku island #pokemon oc #doodles #Fanart #hope you enjoyed #some of these stories are years old #made them when I was a kid #hopefully i wasnt overstepping bounds #I like fire types and figured there was a need for a handler #too many grass types #too much danger #plus every fire type needs a hug #even if they burn you in the process

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