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#the worst thing is i’ve actually started working on one
greghouse · 2 years
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exopelagic · 14 days
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I AM A CODING GENIUS
#coding assignments due in circa 10 hours. it is 2am#I started roughly 12 hours ago and I’m almost done#I also managed to do in 5 minutes the thing my friend has been struggling with for a month <3#the problem is that I’m really good at figuring out how code SHOULD work so solutions like that are easy as hell#but making it actually happen? well.#I spent about two hours swearing at my laptop bc these two dumb rasters would not be set to anything except TRUE/FALSE#they would NOT let me change the values for any reason at all and the internet failed me#I think it is time for us as a society to acknowledge that stack overflow sucks actually this is one of my biggest red flags#I despise that site it completely sucks more often than it’s helpful#that might just be bc I’ve done an obscene amount of work with spatial data at this point and spatial data is hell <3#anyway I’m procrastinating now even though it’s 2am bc I’m feeling confident I can finish this now so the urgency is gone#it will return in maybe 30 minutes bc I said I’d go to bed at 3am but man. these assignments have been the WORST#aaaaaanyway I’m in the hyper stage of tired yknow. the chocolate I just ate probably isn’t helping#so ready for this to be done but unfortunately that means I gotta do it#might as well do as much as I can now I guess so I can get it finished early tomorrow#can clean it up a bunch tonight if I finish it quick too#okay pray for me. I’m already on 5 hours sleep bc I was up until 2 doing the other one yesterday#luke.txt#man my flatmates are ASLEEP now probably wish I was asleep#2:36 update: can confirm I am a genius bc I think I just solved my problem from earlier too
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antiquarianfics · 8 months
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Jealousy, Jealousy
Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, or so they say. You’d argue that jealousy is actually a blue-eyed, one-armed, super soldier.
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A/N: 1989 (Taylor’s Version) announcement led to this. You’re welcome! Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendo. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.
You do not have permission to repost or copy my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.
“Boys only want love if it’s torture.” —Taylor Swift
You are incredibly aware of Bucky Barnes’ infatuation with you. You aren’t blind to his gaze; you aren’t deaf to his words. Bucky Barnes is in love with you—and he refuses to admit it.
You are also incredibly aware of Bucky Barnes’ tendency to distance himself from good things. He is a man who believes he deserves the worst; he is a man who does not believe he is worth loving. Bucky Barnes will accept hate all day, every day. He won’t accept love.
So, clearly, he will not act on his feelings unless it’s absolute torture. Right?
This idea you latched onto days before is what got you into your current situation: flirting obnoxiously with John Walker and letting the man put his hands all over you.
“If this isn’t torture for him,” you think, “it’s at least torture for me.”
You chance a glance at Bucky across the room. He is clearly displeased with the development between Walker and yourself.
Ever since Walker was introduced to Sam, Bucky, and yourself, you were all off put by his overconfident, entitled behavior. You all agree he does not deserve to carry Steve’s shield—he does not deserve to be called Captain America. So, flirting with Walker, you know, is absolutely a sure way to get under Bucky’s skin.
You weren’t quite prepared for how uncomfortable it is making you, however.
“So, what do you say, sexy? Want to celebrate when we win this fight?” Walker flashes you what he clearly thinks is a charming smile.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky tense; his enhanced hearing picking up Walker’s innuendo. You take it to mean your plan is working.
“For the love of god, Barnes, just go tell her how you feel. It’s the quickest way to get her to stop talking to him!” Sam berates Bucky. Frankly, he’s sick of this will-they-won’t-they game you and Bucky are playing.
“No,” Bucky says simply, clenching his jaw and causing Same to groan.
“Why the hell not?”
Bucky doesn’t respond.
“She’s trying to make you jealous. You know that, right? She is intentionally torturing you so that you’ll man the fuck up and make a move.”
Bucky glares at Sam.
“That’s not what she’s doing.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sam challenges. “You think she looks happy to have Walker touching her and making suggestive comments?”
Bucky purses his lips and turns to stare at you again. He is keenly aware that you tense up every time Walker touches you and that you clench your jaw whenever he insinuates anything.
“Because I don’t think she’d be glancing over here to see your reaction if she was actually interested Walker over there.”
Bucky shoots Sam another annoyed look before returning his gaze to you. That’s when he makes eye contact with you.
You raise an eyebrow. He keeps his face stoic. You smirk. He scrunches his eyebrows. You keep a watchful eye on him while you stand on your tip toes to reach Walker’s ear, whispering something unintelligible to Bucky.
Walker’s eyebrows shoot up before looking at you with shocked, yet excited, eyes.
“Damn. Yeah. I, uh, I’ve got a good 20 minutes before I have to head out. We can go to my car?”
Bucky’s neck turns red as anger creeps through his body when he catches Walker’s words. It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.
Boys only want love if it’s torture.
You inwardly cheer when you see Bucky start towards you with a furious look on his face.
You back away from Walker, pretending to mull over his proposition as you let Bucky reach you.
Bucky shoves Walker out of the way and plants himself directly in front of you. His hands reach to your face, holding either side so gently—a direct contrast to the aggressive demeanor he carried on his trek to you. He leans in and kisses you passionately.
Bucky’s lips on yours is everything you hoped it would be: euphoric. His lips feel pillowy against yours, albeit slightly chapped. The force of his lips connecting with yours is gentle enough not to hurt you but aggressive enough to tell you he wants you. His teeth gently pulling your bottom lip between his makes you weak in the knees, and you can’t help but gasp.
It’s perfect. He’s perfect.
Your arms quickly snake around his neck, eyes fluttering shut. You let him keep control of the kiss—you’d tortured him enough—and only pull away when you desperately need to breathe.
As your lips disconnect, he rests his forehead against your own, but he stays silent.
“Well, hey there, Sarge,” you tease. “That was quite the hello.”
Bucky scoffs.
“Don’t be coy, Doll. I know what you were doing.”
“What was I doing?”
“You know.”
“I don’t. You should tell me.”
“You were torturing me.”
“I wasn’t doing anything to you, Bucky. I wasn’t even talking to you!” You allow your tone to remain playful while you deny any scheming that took place.
“You were talking to him,” he says with disgust.
“I can talk to whomever I please,” you point out.
“Not men who want to take what’s mine,” Bucky grumbles before connecting your lips again:
“Yours?”
Bucky nods, “If you want to be.”
“Obviously. Took you long enough. Can’t believe you made me flirt with Walker to get your attention.”
“Shut up.”
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lemonlover1110 · 5 months
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬
Satoru Gojo
[Chapter 16] Justifications
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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
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Mrs. Gojo’s first reaction to finding her son in the hospital room isn’t one of worry– Rather, she’s curious. She wonders if you told him; she doubts you’re dumb enough to actually tell him, but he got here somehow. Instead of wondering how he found out, she should worry about how she’ll explain everything to her son. She can’t just throw you under the bus… Well, she can but it wouldn’t be right for her to do so.
Satoru is sitting down, his hands on his knees as he looks around the room. He contemplates everything. He questions every single relationship that he has. Shoko knew, and his mother, but who else? How many people are betraying him? How many people know the fact that he has a son? 
The man is nauseous at the mere thought that they faced him as if they weren’t hiding something that could turn Satoru’s life upside down. He hears his mother’s heels as she walks towards him but he can’t bring himself to look up at her. He’s never had a close bond with his mother, and at times he’s hated her presence; but nothing compares to now. Satoru has never hated being her son until now. 
“Satoru.” She doesn’t try to soften her voice when she talks to him. She probably should. She feels the hatred that radiates off her son, and she knows that maybe she should console him. She’s mostly at fault for how things played out. “How did you end up here?”
“That’s what you say.” His voice breaks and he takes a deep breath to compose himself. He won’t start crying in front of his mother, she doesn’t have to know how heartbroken he is. She should have an idea though because it’s no easy feat. “You knew about my son, you hid him from me on purpose, you let me find out on my own and your response is that.”
She stays quiet. Satoru will continue speaking and she won’t interrupt until he lets it all out. “I always knew you weren’t a star mother, but this? You’re the worst mother I’ve come across. You hid my son from me, and for what? Because you didn’t want your ideal plans to go to the trash?”
“You’re almost twenty-seven and you act like a child. You wouldn’t have been able to step up to the role. I did what was best for you, and for Ren and his mother.” She argues and he feels his blood boil. He’s never been so mad in his life.
“I wouldn’t have been like you. I wouldn’t have thrown my son to the help and let them raise him. I’m nothing like you, I would’ve been able to step up to the role. Ren would’ve actually felt me being present, and I would’ve loved him as much as I possibly could.” Satoru’s nails dig into the fabric of his pants. “No one is ready to be a parent. You learn along the way. I would’ve and am going to try my best, the same way you should’ve.”
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have your precious job title, Satoru. Watch how you talk to me.” She warns him, ignoring the guilt that runs through her veins. She focuses more on the fact that her son gives her attitude. 
“This is what you wanted! You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d give up everything for him. I knew you were fucked up but to this extent? You’re a wretched woman, I’m ashamed to call you my mother.” Satoru raises his voice, and silence follows. She doesn’t know how to answer. Satoru clears his throat, “For how long have you known? For how long have you known I have a son?”
“Almost a year.” She confesses, and maybe Satoru would’ve easily let it slide if it was something more recent. Well, she hired you for a reason, she’s known for as long as you’ve been working with her. Satoru takes a deep breath, trying his best to hold back the tears that fill up his eyes. 
“Shoko knows. She told me. Who else knows?” He asks, speaking slowly to contain his feelings. She shrugs, she doesn’t know who else knows. 
“I have no idea. I didn’t know Shoko knew.” She responds, walking over to stand next to Satoru. He glares at her, standing up. He can’t stand to breathe the same air as her for another moment. She watches him walk away and she asks, “What are you doing? Now is not the time to throw a tantrum.”
“A tantrum?! You hid my son from me and you’re calling this a tantrum?!” He yells. “You’ve known about my son for a year, you asked for him to be kept from me, and you’re calling this a tantrum? You’re fucking unbelievable. This is all your fault. You’ve been set on making me miserable ever since I was born.”
“Calm down, Satoru.” She says, and Satoru has to take another deep breath. He doesn’t even know how to respond to her. How dare she even suggest that? She must be out of her damn mind– No, she’s evil. He’s convinced she’s fucking evil.
“I’ll never forgive you for this. This is so fucked up, even for you.” Satoru steps out of the room. He needs a breath of fresh air, and he needs to take it all in. Gather his thoughts. 
He’s a father. He’s been one for the past four years. How does he handle it all? His mother betrayed him in the worst possible way. You betrayed him the worst possible way. But Satoru can somewhat understand why you stayed quiet. Not her though. Both reasons are selfish, but her selfishness is pure evil. 
“Satoru.” He hears your mother, and he stops walking. The tears that he’s been holding back finally slip out, and he wipes them away as your mother walks to him. Her hand goes to his arm and she squeezes it as a form of reassurance. “Let’s go grab a coffee, there’s a coffee shop nearby that’s open.”
“Yeah.” He tries to talk normally, and she gently smiles at him. They walk outside and Satoru follows your mother’s lead to the coffee shop. They walk in silence, and when they get there, Satoru pays for coffee for the both of them.
Once the coffee is in their hands, they sit in silence at a table. They came here to talk, yet Satoru is not going to spark up the conversation– At least Satoru assumes that they came here to talk. Your mother clears her throat, “I hope you can forgive my daughter for this… At the very least see her point of view.”
“I’ll try at the very least… I just thought she would try to tell me. I’m disappointed… and feel betrayed.” Satoru confides. He’s always felt like he could talk to your mother, she’s always been someone he can trust. He never went to his own mother for help, instead he went to yours. “I would’ve done anything for Ren, she knows I’ve always wanted to have a kid.”
“I remember the day my little girl called crying, telling me she was pregnant. Her boyfriend just broke up with her and she didn’t know how to tell him. You were out of town, your mother fired me– I told my daughter I quit, but it wasn’t that. Your mother didn’t want me around, she started hating me the moment my daughter started to date you,” Your mother begins and Satoru listens attentively. 
“She tried to tell you, Satoru. You changed your number. You completely cut her off. She went to your house, and guess what your mother said to my pregnant daughter?”
“That I got married.” Satoru mutters, looking away since he’s too ashamed to look her in the eye. 
“And you know the damage that caused? She cried for weeks, but she managed to move on. She couldn’t dwell on you forever because she had a son to be responsible for. Maybe she should’ve told you when she saw you, but I understand she didn’t need you anymore.” 
“I didn’t get married because–” Satoru begins but your mother cuts him off. She doesn’t want to hear any justifications, she really doesn’t see any response that will make her feelings change.
“I don’t care why the hell you got married. I was rooting for you, Satoru. I was rooting for the two of you, but you showed me that you’re just like your selfish entitled family. You made me change my mind, you’re the last person I want near my daughter and my grandson.” Her words sting more than anyone’s because the woman that sits across from him practically raised him. “But I guess I have no other option. You are Ren’s father.”
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, causing her brows to raise.
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” She answers before standing up. Satoru watches as she walks away, biting his quivering bottom lip. He shuts his eyes, trying not to begin crying in front of everyone. 
He’s tired. He should probably go home and take a nap, but he promised his son he’d be there when he wakes up. So he won’t leave until Ren sees him. Satoru stands up and goes back to the hospital.
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You don’t talk to each other when you’re with Ren. Ren is filled with love, from both of his parents and grandmothers. He’s never been with them all at the same time, and he’s excited to be with them all even when he isn’t feeling too well. His father seems to have a lot of questions though, but Ren likes the attention.
Ren gets to talk about his birthday (which surprises Satoru since they have the same birthday), his favorite color, his favorite show, his favorite toys, what he does when mommy is not home, what he does when mommy is home; Satoru tries to get to know all about Ren in a couple hours to make up for the past four years of his life. Satoru is overwhelmed with sadness, yet he’s never felt so happy before as he sits on an armchair, next to his baby boy. Ren holds his father’s hand, smiling when he’s never felt worse before. He’s just happy to meet the man that he’s been asking about.
Satoru spends the entire afternoon there, listening to Ren’s every request. He expected to spend the first day with his son in the hospital but not under these conditions. Regardless, Ren could be a newborn or a four-year-old, Satoru loves him either way. 
Ren yawns, and Satoru sheepishly smiles. He kisses the top of his son’s head. “How about you go to bed, buddy? You’re tired.”
“I don’t want you to go.” Ren says, and Satoru squeezes his hand. You swear you hear your heart break as you hear Ren’s words. You definitely fucked up.
“I’m not leaving, Ren. I’ll be by your side when you wake up, I promise.” Satoru assures him, and the man stays by his side until Ren finally falls asleep. Satoru doesn’t let go of Ren’s hand. You sit in silence for a moment as you try to decide what you’ll do next. Should you speak? Maybe you should… But what should you say? Maybe you should apologize, but you don’t have the guts to do it. 
“Who else knows?” Satoru whispers, not wanting to wake Ren up. He doubts that Ren will be waking up any time soon though, no matter how loud he is.
“Shoko and Suguru. And everyone that works at your house.” You answer. “I asked them not to tell, and I lied to Suguru so don’t be mad at them.”
“Did you… At least try to argue with my mother about telling me?” He hopes that you’ll say yes, so at the very least he can feel like you care about his feelings. He wants to hear that you tried a bit more. He’s filled with disappointment when you shake your head. He looks away from you, and back at Ren.
“How are you going to tell your wife?” You ask, and Satoru shrugs. That isn’t his main problem right now. Sayo can wait.
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jaeminvore · 6 months
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Young God | L.DH (M) — PREVIEW
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READ HERE
SYNOPSIS: desperation had this funny way of skewing one’s perception, and since you were, in fact, way past the point of desperation, it wasn’t a surprise that you jumped the gun without even questioning the absurdly cheap rent price of the seemingly perfect apartment unit. What you failed to consider was the reason why it didn't cost you and arm and a leg and it soon came in the form of an incubus in your bathroom belting his heart out on a Sunday morning.
(alternatively: in which you were essentially scammed into cohabiting with a ridiculously clingy demon that lives off of sex. It could be worse. At least he staved off from sucking your soul out in exchange of you sucking something else—among other things).
GENRE: supernatural, urban fantasy, slice of life, humor, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut MDNI!
WARNINGS: incubus!hyuck, fem!human!reader, bickering, crude language (full list of warnings will be stated in the actual fic)
WORD COUNT: estimated 15K-20K (1.1K for the preview)
RELEASE DATE: 22nd of November
TAGLIST: send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged/notified when I post the fic!
NOTES: happy October! and what a better way of starting the spooky month with a preview for a fic that I've been working on (and screaming to the girls about im so sorry 😭) that fit the spooky aspect lol, but don't be fooled! This is actually funnier (and cuter) than it might initially come off 🫡
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“Now where’d you run off to this early in the morning?”
You gritted your teeth, feeling a vein pulse on your temple. That voice.
Pretty privilege could come next time because at this very second, you weren’t feeling privileged being graced by the so-called prettiness, but threatened to even fully appreciate what he’s got going for him. Physically wise.
Without thinking, your hand shot out to grab the closest thing to you, an empty vase, and hurled it with all you’ve got, aiming straight for the intruder’s face who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. It was like watching everything in slow motion, how the decorative piece took its sweet time to smack his face and hopefully break his nose (best case scenario).
This was the worst case scenario, with the vase pausing in mid-air as if time just decided to stop being a thing, all in this demon’s favor.
You were actually going insane, that was the only explanation because no law of physics could explain the current state of the decorative vase—it’s still in the fucking air. Holy shit—nor did you think telekinesis could extend beyond the old, generic trick of bending spoons with your mind.
“Hey,” As if you weren’t terrified enough, the stranger peeked from one of the vase’s sides with a disapproving pout. You scooted further away until your back hit the arm rest. “I picked this out for you, y’know? Thought you’d like it.” With a lazy flick of his wrist the vase ended up floating all the way into the kitchen, much to your horror, to sit on top of the refrigerator.
“Maybe we should not throw things next time?”
Your eyes flickered towards him, dumbfounded.
“You… last night,” There really was no mistaking it. The voice already told you enough. It was all too distinct; the arrogance, the grating inflection that screamed he solely existed to get on your nerves, and it was working. “In my dream. That was you?”
“Wasn’t just last night, little human. I’ve been in all of your dreams since you moved here.” He shrugged, leaning laxly against the door frame with his arms crossed. “You were way nicer in them. Pliant,” he had two fingers up to prove whatever point he was making. “didn’t throw things at me,” and there goes the third finger.
Smoke was practically coming out of your ears as you sat up straighter, tense. “Oh, I’m sorry!” One of your hands flew to your chest, tone high and mocking. “I didn’t know I had to show proper etiquette to a fucking trespasser!” You scrambled for your phone. “Now, please leave or I will call the police—”
It happened all too fast. Too fast for your human brain to comprehend because just a second ago, you were really serious about involving the police in this. Now, you were flat on your back with the wind knocked right out of you and a lapful of the man plaguing most of your nights. The atmosphere felt heavier, now that the kittenish air surrounding him was gone and the very corner of his lips tilted down into a frown as he plucked your phone out of your hand.
“First thing’s first, no police. You won’t get rid of me that way. Second, this is my”— he pointed to himself —“home. My apartment. I was just nice enough to let you stay for how long you liked.”
“I paid for this unit you—you demon!” You didn’t even try to be subtle with the eye-rolling. Of course he would preen at the title. “If anything, it’s my apartment!”
“Okay? I tied a piece of me down to this place. My sigil is somewhere around here to prove it—meaning, I have higher authority.”
A sigil. Of course. This is your life now. Possibly sharing a space with a fucking demon of all things. Exciting, but not exciting enough to stave off your hunger and you were starting to get antsy. You were just arguing for the sake of arguing to blow off some steam and to get in the last word.
“I signed a lease. The lease has my name on it.” you said as if that was on par with whatever he was talking about (probably not).
“Technically, I signed away a part of my life, so.”
Fuck. Fine. He got you there.
“Are you always going to do this?” You resigned, wriggling underneath his weight. “You’re kinda heavy.”
“I mean if it works, right?” The demon giggled, tilting his head with a coy smile as he put more weight onto your thighs, one hand falling behind to rest on your knee. “It’s not like you complained before.”
“Technically,” (“I do not fucking sound like that.”) “you smothered me in my dreams—dreams, so they don’t count.”
Which meant that you had full control of your body out of the dreamscape, proven by the indignant yell the demon let out as he was unceremoniously pushed to the ground for the second time within the twenty-four hour time frame. It wasn’t enough to make up for the numerous times he had you under him, but for now, you were even.
“They sure do!” he exclaimed from where you left him still sprawled on the floor.
“Nope. This conversation is over.”
The stew was just about done, the soup reduced to the right amount as you switched off the stove and range hood, bathing your apartment in still quietness besides the bustling from outside. The soft padding of feet came in quick succession until warmth hovered just mere centimeters behind you.
Turning your head, the demon was there, his chin just shy of resting onto the dip of your shoulder as he peered curiously at the steaming pot.
“Is that… kimchi stew?” he wondered, taking a generous whiff and appearing just as hungry as you felt. “It is kimchi stew.”
You snickered, all animosity fading into faint amusement, “I take it that you’d like some?” It was such a human reaction that you couldn’t help but smile, reaching for the ladle.
“Please?” he pressed, amber eyes all wide and imploring. “I haven’t had a decent bowl of the stuff in, like, weeks.”
“Well, make yourself useful. Set the table, yeah? And pass me two bowls while you’re at it. You know where they are…” you trailed off, looking at him in silent question. You haven’t asked for his name, or what he would like to be addressed as.
Somehow, the demon was rather quick on the uptake, curling his lips as he pushed off to do what you asked him to.
“Haechan,” he called over his shoulder, grinning as he reached for the cupboard’s handle. “You can call me Haechan.”
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note: hyuck in the banner just screamed demon to me and it may or may not have caused the brainworms still wriggling in my brain to push me into writing this (rip to my wips i had before this) like just LOOK at these photos they awoken something carnal in me and i need him biblically actually
taglist: @jaylaxies @celeste-hoon @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk
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scoobydoodean · 2 months
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You really just can't unsee it once you see it though, can you?
Sam starts blaming Dean for what he's going to do (work with Ruby) way back in 3.09 because Dean isn't going to be around to be Sam's mommy, which is going to force Sam's hand.
After Dean comes back, Sam actually blames Dean for him working with Ruby by saying Dean wasn't there to protect him (4.04).
Dean repeatedly begs Sam not to work with Ruby and is ignored repeatedly (3.03, 3.04, 3.09, 3.16, 4.01-4.04, 4.12-4.22).
After telling Dean to open up to him and trust him (4.08), Sam calls Dean weak and pathetic for being traumatized by hell and says Dean is holding him back and therefore deserves to be lied to because he can't be of use (4.14) Sam says it's not what he really thinks when they both know it is (and Sam repeats it to other characters in 4.16, and 4.18) and then he admits it's the truth again to Dean's face in 4.21.
Sam accuses Dean of not trusting him enough (4.21).
Bobby blows up at Dean for not supporting Sam enough and calls him a pansy after Sam strangled Dean near unconscious, and tells him family is supposed to make you miserable (4.22).
Dean tries to reach out to Sam and Zachariah and Cas actively prevent him from doing so (Cas only at first) (4.22)
Zachariah (5.01) and Cas (5.02) both tell Dean the apocalypse is his fault because Dean didn't reach Sam in time to stop him from killing Lilith.
Dean says Sam hurt him, Sam is the one Dean depended on the most and Sam hurt him in ways he can't even voice (5.01). Sam apologizes, but then in the very next episode, shoves Dean into a wall for not trusting him like Dean is crazy and irrational when Sam doesn't even trust himself (5.02).
Sam says he thinks they should go their separate ways and is shocked when Dean agrees easily. Dean says that he spends more time worrying about Sam than he does doing the job right and time apart would be good. Sam reiterates that he's sorry and Dean gently says he knows Sam is (5.02).
Cas asks Dean if he's okay even without his brother, and Dean says "Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I’ve had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I’ve had with Sam in years, and you’re not that much fun. It’s funny, you know, I’ve been so chained to my family, but now that I’m alone, hell, I’m happy." (5.03)
Sam says he wants back in. Dean objects, on the basis that he thinks they're stronger apart. Dean says they're each other's weaknesses and it's being used against them (5.04, but the weakness line is repeated from 3.03 and 3.16).
Zachariah pushes Dean into a future 2014 where Dean never met up with Sam again, and as a result, Sam said "Yes" to Lucifer, and billions of people died. All because Dean didn't want to be around Sam after being hurt and never reconnected with him (5.04).
Dean reconnects with Sam (5.04) even though he clearly doesn't want to, because the first case we see them on again, Dean struggles to trust Sam and leaves to go drink alone because he doesn't want to be around Sam (5.05).
Sam says part of the reason he went off with Ruby was to get away from Dean, because Dean is smothering. Dean is the problem in the relationship, because Sam feels inferior compared to him. Dean apologizes for being too smothering (5.05).
What does all of this tell you? Dean can't win. Dean will always be the bad guy in the family. He loves too much, or he isn't loving enough. Sam needs him and Dean wasn't there for him and so Sam went down the wrong path, but also Dean is smothering and Dean being smothering is the reason Sam went down the wrong path. Sam is not a trustworthy person, but Dean doesn't trust him enough. Sam not being trustworthy is Dean's fault. Dean doesn't deserve trust, but Sam deserves Dean's trust no matter what and not giving Sam his trust is the worst possible thing in the entire world and also again makes him smothering. The apocalypse is Dean's fault. Every single thing Sam does every single mistake he might ever make in his life is always at least partly Dean's fault and Dean's responsibility.
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gaysindistress · 5 days
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Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Astarion.
I started playing bg3 and i have it bad for this vampiric menace of a man.
misc character masterlist
Warnings: blood drinking, he’s a vampire so yeah
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1. He’s basically a cat but gods forbid you tell him that.
I have a tortie and let me tell ya, she is the sassiest animal I’ve ever met. This cat will climb into the closet just high enough that the dogs can see her but can’t reach her. She will jump into the counter and stare at me because she knows she’s not allowed up there. She will bat at the screen in the window until it pops open and she can escape. But jokes on you! she doesn’t actually escape, she just goes to the back door and meows until someone lets her in.
Anyways this is exactly how Astarion is. He’s sassy but hides it as being a witty nobleman when he’s really just being the sass master. He will do things purely to get a reaction out of people i.e. when he attacked you the first time you met. There was no need to try and pull one over on you like that but he did it anyways because he can. If you get too close to Gale (aka talk to him), he will pout and give you the cold shoulder because gale ‘is such a bore and I’m obviously better company than that, darling.’
He will make the biggest scene if he feels like your attention is being pulled away from him. Oh you’re talking to Shadowheart by the fire later than usual? He’s glowering at your back from his tent until you look over your shoulder at him. When you make eye contact, he’s going to roll his eyes and huff as he throws open the tent flaps. Shadowheart chuckles under her breath because she knows exactly what’s happening.
The longer you’ve known each other, the bolder he gets. He’ll add more each time. At first it’s just the staring and huffing. It moves to glaring at your companion and then waltzing over to you so he say something sassy like “I am not your mother. I should not have to drag you to bed each night.” When that stops getting the reaction he wants, he’ll plop down next you and make every annoyed noise known to man. He might even start to nudge you, extending out one delicate hand to touch your knee or elbow until you get the hint.
But don’t you dare call him out on this. Like a cat, Astarion needs to feek comfortable safe with you. If he gets even a whiff of negativity (or what he thinks is), it sets your relationship back weeks. Pointing out his little feline quirks will feel like you’re complaining or annoyed with him and he can’t handle it. He’ll pull away from you and resort back to his stand offish ways. He’s making sassy but lowkey hurtful comments all of the time. They’re not directed at you because he would never forgive himself if he upset you but that sentiment doesn’t extend to anyone else. Worst of all he won’t feed from you and would damn near starve himself before asking you.
It’s a delicate dance between the two of you but one you would never quit.
2. Feeding from you is difficult for him.
At first it was merely a means to an end but then you became more important to him and now he can’t bring himself to feed from you as much. He would rather never do it but alas blood is in limited supply and you’ve already given him permission to take what he needs. If he can, he finds some other way but it doesn’t always work out. You’ve never asked him why he seems to avoid such a normal task but it’s always on your mind and one night you blurt it out.
I imagine it’s been a long few days and tonight is the first time you’ve been able to relax. Freshly bathed, fed, and now sipping at decent wine, you’re lounging with Karlach and Shadowheart. The three of you have had more than enough wine to be relaxed and have passed over into what Astarion calls ‘delightful chaos’. You’re giggly enough to be entertaining but can still hold a conversation albeit slow and slurred. Your pale elf has been cranky all day and poor Gale has been the target for most of it. You tried to step in and at least lessen Astarion’s onslaught but that earned you the nastiest glare to date. Since then Astarion has been sulking in the shadows or hiding in his tent. You’re the only one brave enough to go near him when he’s like this however it’s still rather dangerous.
On clumsy feet you find yourself just outside of him tent where you can feel the brooding and angst wafting from inside.
“Astarion?” You gentle whisper to the fabric, awaiting his acknowledgment.
“What?” His response is short and biting, similar to how he’s been speaking at Gale.
Assuming he doesn’t realize that it’s you, you say his name again and ask if you can come in. He nearly brings his tent to the ground when he rips open the flaps.
“What?” He repeats with fury and pain in his dull eyes.
It should scare you, seeing him so feral and unrestrained but seeing him causes a wild smile to break out on your face. Your hands go to reach for his face but quickly they fall when you remember that everyone is watching you closely. Whatever wine you drank has given you an armor of courage (and stupidity really). You smile at him with all of the affection you harbor for this ethereal being and slide past him into his tent. The simple action sends everyone else into high alert while Astarion barely contains the hiss he wants to send their way.
When he turns around, he finds you already sitting beside his bedroll with your knees pulled up with your arms wrapped around them.
“What do you want?”
All he gets in response is a blink and then a beckoning to join you. Patting the space next to you, you quietly ask him to join you however he is determined to be cross with you for barging in. He repeats his early question with a hardened glower in your direction.
“Astarion…” you murmur to him, your voice low and gentle, “you need to feed.”
The sheer audacity to utter such a thing infuriates him to no end but you’re right. He does and the sanguine desire is growing far too large to hold in anymore.
He still tries to deny it but his words are unusually weak and he stumbles over each one.
“Come,” you order softly as you move to lay down on his bedroll and brush your hair away, “drink what you need. I trust you.”
Those three words are almost as powerful as a declaration of love to the vampire spawn. He finds himself crumble to the ground and crawl over your divine figure. The unholy need to devour you that he usually despises with his entire being is welcomed as his fangs sink into your neck. One of your hands comes to hold his shoulder and the other cradles the back of his head, keeping him close as he feeds from you. Your gentle touch and reassuring voice overwhelms poor Astarion. He begins to whimper and moan into the supple skin of your neck without even realizing it. When he pulls away to keep from completely draining you, he’s breathless and muttering to himself you how good you taste.
Why he would ever deny himself this divine experience?
3. He refuses to admit it that he loves when you initiate touch.
Because of his past, you’ve decided that you will only touch him if he asks and if you get explicit consent. Most of the time you wait until he invites you in some manner whether that be he telling you to get over here or paw at you like a cat. He appreciates it, he really does but sometimes he craves the feeling that he gets when you ask him.
His favorite, though, is when you ask him if you can lay in him when he reads. You’ve been napping in his tent on and off all day, having chosen to stay back and recoup after the long events from the past week. Most of your companions have been doing the same but Astarion has been trying his hardest to not spend too much time around you. It’s hard enough to not just bask in your affection but even more so when you’ve been cuddled up in his tent all day. When you finally decide to go to your own tent, he takes the opportunity to reclaim his bedroll. It smells of your sweet scent and is still warm from your body, something he secretly craves.
You return to his tent a few hours later after everyone has eaten and settled in for the night. Peering down at him with sleeping eyes, you cross your arms and huff when he ignores you for his reading.
“Yes, my dear?” He quietly chuckles while still pretending to read his book.
“You’re in my spot.”
“We’re in my tent therefore it is my spot.”
You can’t exactly argue with him. You plop down next to him and give him the biggest puppy eyes imaginable.
“Will you at least let me lay on you if you’re not going to move?”
If it could his heart would be doing flips and his cheeks would be red but alas neither thing is truly possible.
“That depends…” he pretends to be uninterested in your request and continues with his straight face as he flips to the next page in his book. He can hear your huff of annoyance and fails to hide the small smirk that tugs at his pale lips.
“On what?” You pry even though you both know this is just a little game and he’s going to give in.
“Ask me nicely.” He drawls in that low seductive voice he uses when he’s trying to persuade you. Finally he flickers his eyes over to yours. That simple action alone steals your breath and chases away any negative feelings you might’ve had.
You crawl closer to him, nearly touching him but not quite as you whisper your request again.
“Of course you can, my dear,” he whispers back while his smirk has fully taken over his face. “Lay your head here."
He pats his sternum and waits for you to settle. Much like a lover seeking warmth in the night, you immediately take refuge in his arms and cuddle as close as you can to him. You feel him set his the book on your upper back when you've found the comfort and warmth you sought.
Astarion begins to murmur the book’s words as his other hands rests at the base of your head. His fingers don’t yet feel confident in moving to thread into your hair but they do softly rub at the tension in your skull. Peace is found in your embrace and he couldn’t be happier that you asked him to join your party all those weeks ago.
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pedgito · 1 month
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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Javier Pena x fem!reader
summary | your boyfriend delivers the worst news possible on what should be a day filled with love. luckily your coworker is there in wait, not allowing a perfectly good dinner reservation to go to waste. [2.5k]
content warning | this is probably the tamest thing i've ever written, who am i? mostly fluff, vague descriptions of your boyfriend (technically ex-boyfriend/some misogyny (not by javi), small age gap, co-workers, dinner dates and more, unrequited (innocent) crushes, minimal spanish (mostly just pet names), open-ended
author’s note | @pascalispretty happy valentines day!! this is my first time doing one of these and i was your secret valentine, but i hope you enjoy! i haven't written for javi in so long and i was really craving some soft!javi so this was a joy to write. i hope you enjoy!
You hated the stigma around holidays and what they meant, what they entailed, and why people upheld them so highly. But, here you were—tapping your fingers insistently against the desk across from the pool of DEA agents who would throw a file of paperwork on your desk and expect it to magically poof away and, by default, relinquish themself of any responsibility over it in the process.
You couldn’t fault them all—some of them actually managed to follow instructions. A signature here and there, all in order, leaving with little work to do other than file it away. Murphy followed it to a degree that made you think he probably has some time of background outside of here, back in the states. Always uniform, always proper—he’d been a good addition from the start and a perfect match to Javier Pena’s strong personality and unwillingness to give up control.
He also smiled at you every morning and offered a kind greeting, a small acknowledgment of your existence which couldn’t be spared by many others.
As for Javier—he did the work. There was never an issue, but halfway through an expository to a question he asks his attention is drawn elsewhere. Usually to one of the other few in-office secretaries or visitors that just couldn’t resist a bite at the overconfident and suave agent.
You could see the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had to like it—sometimes it impeded your ability to communicate with him and it really, really annoyed you.
Plus, your boyfriend was perfect. Too perfect that it felt unreal at times, but as all things in your life tended to implode on you—you were waiting for the ball to drop.
“Buenos días, señorita.” Javier greets with a smile that shines perfectly under his thick mustache, dressed in his usual pairing of tight jeans and form-fitting button up. This one was pink though, or a deep red. Jesus, how many different ones did he own?
You snort softly, “Morning, Javi.”
And you’re expecting that crisp folder to slide onto your desk but he’s traversing down the steps into the bay of other desks, straight for his. He’s still in eyeline, his and Steve’s shared workspace right in the center.
His eyes flit up briefly, scanning the room before they land on you again and of course you’re staring, but not for the reasons he’s assuming. And there’s a fierceness behind your eyes that he’s seen before, like he’s about to be lectured.
You grab at an empty file on your desk and hold it up lazily, eyebrows raising in expectation. 
“Oh shit,” He curses lowly, but not soft enough for you to miss before he’s reaching in his desk and holding up the paperwork, “Here—I’ve got it.”
You pluck the item from his grip as he approaches, this time lingering. He’s got his fingers spread out wide on your desk and he leans, practically towers as you sift through his work quietly before jotting something down on a separate sticky note and filing it away for the time being.
“Sorry, bonita,” He apologized, some sincerity in his voice, “I stayed late last night and finished it up but you were already gone—I don’t forget, you know that.”
“All good,” You offer a polite smile and he still doesn’t move, nodding kindly to a few women that pass by, seemingly more done-up than usual, “big plans tonight?”
A man like Javier, there was no way he spent Valentine's Day alone.
Javier offers a non-commital shrug and nods his head in your direction, “What about you? You got that boyfriend, right? Kid with the glasses?”
And okay, Javier was a good chunk older than you. Ten years, maybe. But, kid? Please.
“Yes, that kid.” You roll your eyes light-heartedly. “Um, I reserved a table for dinner at that restaurant Steve recommended a couple months ago. The one he took Connie to.”
“Yeah—yeah, I know that place.” Been a few times, it lingers on his tongue. It didn’t matter if he went alone, the food was decent enough. “You made the reservation?”
“Come on, Javi,” You slap at his forearm gently, “It's not that big of a deal—besides I just…need a break. I thought dinner would be nice.”
“You know I can’t judge you for living at this place,” Javier says around a soft chuckle, “I’m guilty of it too.”
Many nights spent stuck in the office with just you and Javier—the occasional appearance of Steve. It led you to learn a few things about the men, even if inadvertently.
When leads were dry, Javier will go through half a pack in a day and Steve would chew at his fingernails almost constantly, tapping and fidgeting nearly nonstop. They both had obvious tells—a more obvious one for Javier being the close-mouthed smile he gave to women he wasn’t interested in but still remained polite to while the other, the unabashed grin was reserved for the women who piqued his interest.
He's given you both, but that was beside the point. 
“Any recommendations?” You ask curiously, fidgeting with the plastic clip on your pen.
Javier considers it briefly, lips pursing together as he taps his pointer finger in thought, “Well, the Pescado Frito they have is pretty good—can’t really go wrong with that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” You note, leaning back in your chair as you spot Steve making his way into the office.
“I thought you hated holidays like this?” Javier questions curiously, a sentiment he shared. They seemed pointless outside of the few that offered him a reprieve from work.
You shrug, looking away briefly to avoid his steadfast gaze.
“Well, I don’t think all of us are impervious to stuff—I wanted to do something…nice. I guess?”
Javier isn’t entirely convinced, seeing the uncertainty in your shy smile but he lets it go, slapping the desk lightly before waving a quick goodbye as Steve pulls him aside.
It had to be intel—and good intel at that by the way Javier’s face morphs into sudden interest, thumb and pointer finger brushing over his mustache.
And really, you shouldn’t keep staring at him. Not with that dinner on the forefront of your mind, the one you had so meticulously planned out for you and your boyfriend.
Things had to be perfect. There was no other option.
But, then Javier chances another glance in your direction and something swells in your throat—anxiety, sadness. You can't quite place it, but you swallow it down. Force it away.
Only a few more hours to go.
-
The call comes an hour before you’re due to head home, already packing up your belongings preemptively. And you smile at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.
It’s been a few months. Good months. Too good.
He was younger, like you—some IT guy in his earlier twenties with a kind heart. Or, so you assumed.
“Hey,” You answer softly, lightly into the phone, “reservations are in a couple hours.”
“About that,” His voice sounds off, distant, “I don’t think I can make it.”
Your heart drops into your stomach and you find yourself chewing at your bottom lip in worry, watching wearily as Javier and Steve hold matching coffees in their grip, marching back to their desks in sync. Javier’s gaze lingers for a moment, a normal motion he did just to check on you.
Nothing more.
But, he spots the change in your emotion.
Still, he continues on.
“What—I—I’ve had these reservations for two weeks,” You reply in a hushed voice, trying to contain your frustration, “what happened—what changed?”
“I just—I don’t really know how to say this,” The dread is immediate, but your mind is filled with anger—rigid, bitter anger that wants to bite, “I think we should break up.”
“Are you fucking serious?” The small outburst catches the attention of you people but you avoid their gaze, even more pointedly Javier, who’s gone from inconspicuously spying to full on gawking now, alongside Steve who had a sudden interest. They’ve never seen you like…this. “Today? This felt like a good thing to tell me today?”
“I’ve been trying—“
“You’re an asshole.” You bite harshly, “You can pick your shit up from my apartment this weekend.”
You don’t let him have the final word, slamming the phone back down into the receiver and ignoring the gathering stares and sparse, hushed whispers.
You could sit and wallow, allow yourself to stew in regret and worry, wondering what you did wrong—but you knew it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been. All the trying and trying and trying you do, the maximum amount of effort met with little enthusiasm. You were naive to think that things would work,
You’re thankful when the shift nears its end and people file out quietly, albeit with a few side-stares, you find yourself mulling over the idea of canceling the reservation completely. But, then there was perfectly good, hard-earned money going to waste. And you could eat by yourself, but the idea seemed even more miserable as you had specifically booked a table for two, decorations and accommodation to match. It felt ridiculous, in hindsight. 
You pass the stack of paperwork off to your boss as you step into his office, scurrying back to your desk with your head down—already prepared to go home and wallow in your self-pity.
“You alright?” Javier asks suddenly, jumping slightly at his voice as you turn on your heels, hip bumping into your desk in the process, wincing at the pain, “shit—sorry.”
He’s smiling to lighten the mood but it doesn’t help.
“You’re…fine,” You wave him off, leaning into the weight of the desk as he lingers, fingers shoved into the front pockets of his pants, “I’m heading home in a bit.”
“No dinner?” He asks curiously—if he was attempting to be coy he was doing a terrible joy.
It was only minimally amusing, cracking a smug smile at his obvious prying. 
“No dinner,” You confirm, “and he broke up with me, so…”
“Cabrón,” He says under his breath, but it isn’t lost on you, “I’m sorry—that’s…fucked up.”
You shrug, “Now I’m debating on canceling and wasting the money I put down to reserve it or looking pathetic if I show up by myself—“
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Javier defends, speaking entirely from personal experience. 
“Javi, it’s Valentine’s Day.” 
“And?”
Suddenly though, you’re struck with an idea. 
“Are you busy?” You ask curiously and Javier raises a curious eyebrow your way and smirks, “No ladies in waiting tonight?”
“Not yet.” Javier jokes lightly, knowing his usual routine of hitting the bar after work would end in one of two ways, and even if he didn’t mind spending his nights alone, it was nice to be in the company of others in whatever capacity.
“Go with me.” You suggest, poking at his bicep. “Since you love the place so much.”
“Come on, hermosa,” Javier chides playfully, “If you wanted to take me on a date, just ask.”
You grin wide, heart fluttering at the flirtatious tone he carried in his voice—it wasn’t something you weren’t used to, but it was never so pointedly directed at you.
“I am,” You tell him, “I just—I’ll need to go home and change first.”
His brow furrows and he looks you over, seeing nothing wrong, “Why? You look fine. You always do.”
It’s something he tells you daily—and maybe he has his own selfish reasons, though you know he does it to most of the women in the office, but the way he’s saying it to you now feels different.
He means it, no humor in his voice.
“My—” You can’t even address him in the moment, rolling your eyes with full force as you rub your fingers over your forehead to will away the lines of stress that form there, “I just—he used to say work clothes never complimented me very well. I already had a dress picked out, I can be quick.”
“Save it. I think you look perfect.” Javier affirms softly, keys jingling in his back pocket as he fishes them out, “I’ll drive us.
“But, my car—”
And hand breaches your shoulder, hot to the touch as his fingers curl around your form.
“Hey,” He’s searching for your eyes, waiting until they lock with his own and he nods, expecting the same motion to make sure you’re with him, “I’ll drive you there and back, you don’t have to change—we can enjoy some good food and forget about your shitty boyfriend, alright?”
You nod quietly, earning a gentle squeeze in response.
It wasn’t a date, not in the slightest. But, Javier did his damndest to make you feel like it was.
And maybe it was the guilt over him knowing you just got dumped—that whatever you had spent so much time planning had fell out underneath you, but it didn’t quell the nervous anxiety that you felt as you both sipped on a shared bottle of wine and your separate dinners, watching Javier grimace around the lip of his wine glass.
“Horrible, right?” You laugh softly, watching as he forces the liquid down and nods jerkily.
“Food is great, though—the wine,” Javier makes a face of uneasiness that has you covering a laugh with your palm, “—that’s why I stick with tequila or whiskey.”
“Can’t say I have much of a preference,” You admit, “as long as it does the job.”
Javier nods knowingly, stabbing his fork into a piece of food and chewing thoughtfully, the fingers of his unoccupied hand rubbing together as an idea forms in his head, “You know, if you’re not busy I was going to meet up with Steve and Connie for a drink. Later tonight—if you’re interested?”
You can’t believe how instantly you want to agree, blaming it on your impulsivity. 
“Javi, I don’t know,” You respond quietly, “I don’t—I don’t really go out like that.”
“Well—that dress you were talking about. It wouldn’t go completely to waste if you wanted to wear it out tonight. Plus, you treated me to a nice dinner—let me treat you to a couple drinks.”
It sounds like the perfect idea. Too perfect. Too good to be true.
“Javi,” You tease shyly, “if you’re trying to ask me out on a date just say it.”
Javier chuckles softly and you know it’s only an attempt to make a shitty day not so shitty, but the underlying chase you two have allowed to happen for so long now was unobscured by outside forces and you hated how easy it was for him to distract you from everything that had transpired today.
“Is that a yes?” Javier teases.
You sigh reluctantly, though a subtle grin pulls at your face, eyes soften at the expectant look on Javier’s face, all puppy-eyed and nothing like the man you’re used to seeing in the office. This was a side of him that felt new and you were curious to discover more. You nod.
“Well, hermosa—I guess it’s a date then.”
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watchmegetobsessed · 2 months
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GOOD THINGS TAKE TIME
A/N: can't believe i actually wrote this, but yaay!! i did it!!
WORD COUNT: 4.6k
SUMMARY: Harry has been in love with Y/N since forever. Unfortunately the plan he comes up with to win her over leads her to meet the man she eventually would get engaged to...
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
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“This is literally the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it is brilliant!”
“Brilliantly stupid,” Niall retorts, staring at his best friend who is standing in front of the tiny mirror they managed to squeeze into their dorm room. Harry runs his fingers through his unruly curls, settling them in a messy, but organized way before grabbing his jacket and phone. 
“Why would it be stupid? It will work out perfectly. These speed dating things never work, we will have a round with each other and I will prove that I’m the perfect guy for her! Easy!”
Niall can’t help but bark out a laugh from his bed.
“Yeah, that’s a cool fairytale, but have you thought of everything that could go wrong?”
“Nope, because nothing will go wrong. Don’t piss me off, I’m about to win over the girl I’ve been in love with my whole life. Why are you being so bitter?”
“I’m just… not sure this is the best way to do it,” Niall sighs.
“It’ll be fine. I have to go now. Wish me luck!”
And with that he is out of the small, cramped room. 
Harry is quick to forget about Niall’s warning, in his mind, it’s the perfect plan. He begged Y/N to come to this speed dating event held on campus for a week before she finally agreed. He’s convinced there’ll be no one he should be worried about and he has thought about what it will be like when he will be sitting in front of her, how he will charm her and finally step over the lines of friendship and head towards something more. 
It all played out well in his head. 
He meets her by the café that’s the location of the event. She is already there, wearing a flowy dress with a denim jacket over, she is not too dolled up, but he can tell she spent quite some time in the bathroom probably before leaving.
She looks breathtaking. 
“Hey there,” he smiles widely as he walks up to her. “Ready?”
“Not really,” she huffs out a short, nervous laugh.
“Come on, it will be fun!” he smirks, opening the door for her, catching the scent of her sweet perfume as she walks past him. 
They come here often between lectures, now the tables are lined up straight, two chairs by each of them with notebooks and pens waiting to be used during the speedy rounds. There are a handful of people lingering around already and soon enough the place fills up and the event starts. Harry and Y/N end up sitting a couple of tables away from each other, so it will take about five rounds for them to meet. The host of the event explains how it works: every round is ten minutes long, either people get five minutes to tell the person across from them about themselves. At the end of a round they can exchange numbers and carry on with the event or they can decide to step out of the line and carry their conversation on. 
Harry is confident as he waits for it to start, while Y/N seems nervous as she examines the men sitting in front of the line of women. The bell that signals the start and end of the rounds rings and everyone focuses on the person sitting across the table. 
One round, two rounds, three rounds go by, Harry tries his best to focus on the girls he talks to, but he is just too excited to finally get to Y/N. She is now just one table away from him, only one more girl before he finally gets to take the chair in front of her. 
The round ends and it’s time to move to the next table. Harry is collecting his notebook and pen when he sees two figures stand up from the corner of his eyes. He turns to his right and sees Y/N standing up from her table along with the guy she just talked to in the last round. 
Harry’s stomach drops and his jaw hangs open for a moment as he watches the two of them move to a table on the side, she is laughing and the guy touches her arm as they exclude themselves from the rest of the daters. 
Harry is frozen, panic settles in the pit of his stomach, then someone nudges him to move and he is forced to carry on while the table she was sitting at before is now awfully empty. 
He was not expecting this. This was not part of his plan, he was supposed to be the one to sweep her off her feet, not some random guy. He forces himself to carry on with the rounds, but he can barely focus, he keeps looking back at Y/N, but she seems quite happy to be talking to the guy. 
It feels like forever until there are no more rounds and everyone is free to chat with whoever caught their eyes. Harry is tempted to go over to Y/N, make the guy leave and claim her to be his. But all he can do is just watch as the girl he’s been in love with forever falls for someone else. 
It’s his personal hell. 
Hours go by and they are still talking, but Harry can’t watch it any longer. He sends her a text saying he’s gone back to the dorm and to text him when she is home as well. When he walks into his room Niall is about to ask how it went, but just one look on his face is enough to figure out the plan did not work. 
He lies in bed wide awake for hours and then her text finally arrives.
Y/N: Back in the dorm :) thanks for asking me to come, it was awesome! I’ll tell you about Oscar tomorrow Xx
Oscar. Harry didn’t want to know who she chose over him, but now he had a name and even though he knew nothing about him, he hated the guy. 
With a heavy heart he drops the phone to his night stand and stares at the wall until the Sun rises. 
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Harry has read over the menu at least five times by the time Y/N walks into the restaurant finally. It hasn’t been that long since the last time he saw her, he can still feel that stinging feeling in his chest every time he sees her he’s felt in the past years. 
“Sorry, finding a parking spot was impossible,” she huffs as she reaches the table, he stands and they share a short, but tight hug.
“It’s fine,” he smiles. 
“Have you ordered?” she asks, grabbing the menu Harry’s been staring at the last ten minutes. 
“No, not yet.”
He watches her read through the menu, though they both know she will order the same thing she always gets, no matter where they eat. The waitress comes and takes their order and when she’s gone they are finally focusing on each other. 
Meeting up has been harder since they finished college two years ago, even though they live in the same city. Harry has been working at a label the past year and Y/N secured a great position at a firm after graduation, so they both have been quite busy.
Especially Y/N, because her and Oscar moved in together after school was over. They’ve been dating for almost two years then, so it was a logical move, but it didn’t make it easier on Harry, who’s been silently suffering since that stupid speed dating event he will forever regret asking Y/N to go to, because her and Oscar have been together for almost four years now, happier than ever, twisting the knife in his chest every time he has to see her being happy with someone else. 
“Ah, it’s been such a crazy week,” she sighs, leaning back in her seat. 
“Want to rant about it?” Harry smiles at her softly.
“Well…” Her lips curl upwards as she takes a deep breath before peeking up at him. “It’s not really something I want to rant about, because… It’s quite good news.”
Harry is just about to ask her to elaborate when she holds up her hand in front of him and it takes him a couple of seconds to put the picture together. But when it finally sinks in, he almost throws up.
There’s a shiny diamond ring sitting on her ring finger and the cheesiest smile is stretched across her face behind it. She wiggles her fingers as Harry’s lips part while he silently fights for his life to hold his not too uplifting feelings and thoughts bottled up. He succeeds, because she doesn’t realize just how much he is struggling. 
“It happened last weekend, I wanted to tell you right away, but I also wanted to tell you in person,” she enthuses, turning her hand so the ring is now facing her, the beaming smile should make Harry happy, but he can taste the awful bitterness again he’s been swallowing back for so long. 
She goes on to tell him every detail about the proposal, how romantic it was, from what Harry hears it was just how she imagined, but he is still frozen in shock, his eyes glued to the diamond on her finger. 
“So, now I’m a bride!” She finishes her speech, but as she looks at Harry her face falls. “Oh my God, I’m such an asshole!” She covers mouth and Harry’s stomach drops, thinking that his expression gave him away. “I’m telling you about my engagement when you are probably still not over the whole Wren thing.”
Wren? He almost asks her who Wren is, but he realizes that she is talking about the last girl he dated. Things ended a few weeks ago, but he already forgot about it, because it was the same as before. He couldn’t bear being with someone who wasn’t Y/N. 
“Ah, no, no…” he manages to speak up finally, gulping harshly. “It’s fine. And… congrats!” The smile on his face would probably not fool her, but she is too lost in her pink clouds. 
“Thank you! And there is one more thing. It will sound stupid,” she giggles, before continuing, “I don’t really have any girl best friends, I’ll have just a few bridesmaids, but… I want you to be my maid of honor?”
Harry is staring back at her with parted lips, her words playing in his mind on repeat.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but Harry, you are my best friend and I want you there, by my side. So, what do you say?”
Blinking, he fights the part of him that wants to stand up and walk away. Because she is asking him to watch her marry someone from the front line, to assist her on her big day when he has imagined himself being the man she would one day walk down the aisle to. But now this image will be different and ruined forever, because she is marrying someone else. 
For a moment he is back at the speed dating event. He thinks about how he should have just told her how he felt instead of that ridiculous plan that brought her together with Oscar. Maybe she would have rejected him, but at least he could say that he tried. Now he has to put up with the pain of his heart breaking over and over again, all because he couldn’t man up and tell her he’d been in love with her. 
Exhaling slowly he licks his lips before nodding his head.
“Yeah. Sure. I’m happy to… I’m happy for you. I’ll be there for you.”
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Harry had nothing against weddings. Up until it was the wedding of the woman he loved and he wasn’t the groom. 
As Y/N’s man of honor he couldn’t exclude himself from the planning process. Choosing decoration, cake tasting…. dress shopping… he suffered through it all while he had to come to terms with his unpleasant fate. 
Now it’s the night before the big day. The wedding is held in a botanical garden, there’s a small hotel connected to it, that’s where the guests are staying. It’s the perfect venue for the perfect wedding. 
Y/N is in her suit with her bridesmaids while Harry is in his own room. His suit is hanging on the door of the closet next to his bed, haunting him about what he will have to witness tomorrow with a smile on his face. He already thought of ways to get himself out of it, but he knows there’s no excuse good enough to miss Y/N’s wedding. 
His phone chimes on the nightstand with a text and when he looks at the screen Y/N’s name appears in the notification bar.
Y/N: come overrrr maid of honor!!
Then another text follows.
Y/N: we have champagne and I need my best friend here!!!
His thumbs linger over the keyboard, trying to come up with a reply, but then she keeps texting him, begging him to go over and he breaks. With a groan he puts on a hoodie and grabbing his keycard he heads down the hall to her suit. 
What welcomes him there is exactly what he was expecting. It’s like a sleepover, the bridesmaids are drinking and dancing around, Y/N is wearing a cheap veil on her head that’s attached to a tiara, wearing matching PJ’s with the rest of the girls. 
“Harry!” she beams when he is pulled into the suit by two girls, right into the middle of their little party. 
Y/N runs across the room and hugs him, she almost loses her balance, but he catches and steadies her with an arm around her waist. 
“How much champagne have you had?” he breathes out a short chuckle.
“Just a little,” she giggles. “Hey, I want to talk to you about something, come on.”
She takes his hand and pulls her into the bedroom, closing the door to have some privacy from the laughter and music outside. Her wedding dress is laid out on an armchair in the corner of the room, an open, pink suitcase by the bed, clothes flowing out of it. Her presence is all over the room and he wishes he could see these traces in his own home too. 
He sits on the edge of the bed and watches her grab a lip balm from her bag. She applies it and then keeps it in her hands, playing, fidgeting with it. 
“You seem worried,” he voices his thoughts. 
“No, I’m…” She sighs, looking up at him. “It’s natural, right?”
“What is?”
“That… I’m scared.”
“Of marrying him?”
“No, just generally. It’s a big step,” she shrugs. “I always dreamed of my wedding and now it’s all happening, I’m just… I don’t know, I’ve been thinking a lot, but it’s all part of the ride, right?”
She is trying her best to sound calm and collected, but Harry knows her better than anyone and can see through the mask. He knows she is having doubts and though these thoughts could be normal, Y/N is never one to doubt her decisions, so her current fears are definitely raising his concerns.
And his hopes as well.
“How long have you been feeling like this?” Y/N just shrugs. “Did Oscar do something to make you question it all?”
“No,” she chuckles, but it’s more bitter than genuine. “He is amazing, really.”
The stinging feeling returns in Harry’s chest, but he just keeps listening to her.
“I just… I don’t know, sometimes I question if we were meant to be. It’s all been so easy and convenient and maybe it’s just all the books and movies, but I imagined… more.”
It’s like the tiniest light is now forcing its way through the dark, thick walls Harry has built up around him, a glimmer of hope that maybe he still has a chance to make it right, that he hasn’t missed his chance. 
“Don’t marry him then,” he says, his heart hammering in his chest. 
“What?” she chuckles. 
“If you’re not sure, then don’t marry him.”
“Harry, I won’t call the wedding off. I love him.”
She turns away, but not before he could catch the look of doubt in her eyes, crystal clear, telling him this is the moment he missed all those years ago. 
He stands up from the bed and there’s a second when he almost changes his mind, but he has to do it or he might lose his mind forever. 
“I love you, Y/N.”
She stills, her back facing him. 
“I love you too Harry,” she says. “You’re my best friend.”
“But I’m in love with you.”
She doesn’t answer for so long he starts to think she didn’t even hear him, but then she slowly turns around with an unreadable look on her face and he decides to continue. 
“I’ve… been in love with you for so long, I don’t even remember what it’s like not to love you. I know it’s not ideal to tell you this right now, but I feel like if you’re questioning whether you should marry Oscar or not, it might… that maybe you’re…”
She’s still silent, just staring back at him, not giving away any emotion or thought. 
“Y/N, you can still call it off. I-I will be by your side and if you want to try and—”
“Stop.”
“I know it’s scary, but I love you and I would do anything–”
“Harry, stop!” she raises her voice and it finally gets him to stop talking. Clenching his jaw he takes a step backwards. 
Y/N exhales shakily, Harry is still unsure what she is thinking and the words are begging to keep bubbling from his mouth now that he started talking, but he swallows them down. Shaking her head she takes a step closer to him.
“You… Harry, I…” She is trying to find the words and Harry starts talking again, but he is cut off rather fast.
“I swear we–”
“You have the nerve to pour all of this onto me on the night before my wedding? Right after I tell you about my deepest fear?”
Now it’s clear to him. She is mad, her eyes are throwing flames, but he’s confused, this is not what he was expecting.
“Y/N, I just–”
“You just thought that choosing this vulnerable moment was the perfect timing to tell me you’ve been in love with me all this time?! What were you expecting, huh? That I would throw myself into your arms giggling and confess my love? Call my wedding off?”
“I-I’m… I don’t…”
“I can’t believe you! Get the hell out of here!” Turning around she wraps her arms around herself, breathing heavily. Harry reaches out and touches her shoulder, but she jerks away instantly. “Get out!” she screams. “And don’t even think about showing up tomorrow!”
Harry is in shock, denial, completely destroyed as he stares at the back of her head. He wants to beg for her to forgive him, to forget everything he said. He would rather suffer by her side than lose her, but he knows he has no choice now. 
He walks over to the door, looks back one more time, but she is still turned away, her body shaking. He opens the door, the music floods into the room from outside and he walks out without a word. 
He returns to his room, packs all of his stuff and under the shining stars, he drives away, barely seeing the road through his tears. 
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Anne’s backyard looks magical this time of the year. The blooming flowers, the bright green grass, it’s a beautiful scenery and Harry would love to bask in it normally, but now he is just blankly staring ahead of him. 
It’s been a week since he confessed his love for Y/N at the worst possible moment and lost her forever. He has no idea who ended up being her maid of honor after his departure, he turned his phone off and hasn’t turned it on since. He would rather claw his eyes out than see all the wedding content from their mutual friends. He’s been hiding at his mum’s since then. 
“Tea?” Anne’s chirpy voice asks from the sliding doors.
“No thank you,” he answers. Anne sighs and he hears her footsteps, but he doesn’t look her way.
“You know you can’t hide here forever, right?”
“If you want me out of here just tell me that.”
“You know I love having you here as long as you want, but you’ll have to face reality at one point.”
“I’m hiding for a bit more, thanks.”
Anne sighs again and Harry hopes she would just let him be, but also knows she likes to say what’s on her mind.
“You know she was mad at the timing and not your feelings, right?”
“Mum…”
“Y/N loves you, romantically or not, she loves you. She might have to get over how you chose the worst possible moment to tell her you love her, but she will come around. And when it happens, you better not still be a mess.”
The sliding doors close behind her and he is left alone with his thoughts again. He hates how right she is, but it still hurts. 
Groaning he marches up to his room and digs his phone out from the depth of his suitcase. Turning it on the notifications start flooding in, texts, emails, voicemails, he is skipping most of them until his eyes catch one particular thing. Then another and he slowly starts to put the picture together and he fears he is about to have a heart attack.
The wedding never happened. Y/N didn’t marry Oscar. 
He drops his phone as if it was on fire and starts packing right away. He needs to get to the bottom of this, he needs to know if it was because of his confession. Even if she screams and cusses him out, he needs to find answers. What’s the worst that could happen? He is already on the floor, there’s only up from here.
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How is it that no one knows where she is? 
Harry has been trying to track her down since he arrived back from the UK, going from one friend to the other, but no one knows where she’s been hiding since the catastrophic almost-wedding. Everyone is saying the same thing? she packed her stuff from the place she’d been sharing with Oscar, left and no one has seen her since. She just sent a few texts to her parents to let them know she’s alright, but that’s all. 
“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath as he heads back to his home, completely lost about where she could be. 
He is trying to come up with other ideas as he is climbing the stairs up to his apartment. He slides the key into the lock, too deep in his thoughts to realize that it’s unlocked at first, but when he does, he freezes, then practically runs inside. 
He spots the familiar pink suitcase first, then hears the footsteps and a few moments later Y/N appears down the hallway. 
He is trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out his mouth as he is slowly walking closer to her. 
“I still had your spare keys,” she says quietly. The anger he last saw from her is now gone, she looks so small and broken and all he wants to do is wrap her in his arms and never let her go. But he knows they need to talk first.
“Have you been here all along?”
“Yeah. I promise I didn’t read your diary.” She cracked a joke, but her weak laugh doesn’t fool him.
“It’s fine. How… How are you? I know you didn’t…”
“I didn’t marry Oscar? Yeah. And I feel like shit.”
“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have told you then, I was an idiot, you were right. I chose the worst moment, used your vulnerability and tried to use it to my advantage. I am so sorry.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Of course I regret. My timing was incredibly awful and disrespectfu–”
“No, not the timing. That you… That you told me.”
He clenches his jaw, thinking of what to say, but he decides he needs to be honest with her and with himself as well.
“I don’t regret telling you. I’ve been keeping it a secret for a very long time and it needed to be said. I’m not expecting you to forgive me, let alone… consider giving me a chance, but I just want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Was there any other moment when you wanted to tell me before?”
“The speed dating event,” he answers right away. “I had this ridiculous plan that you would find me the best match and I would… finally tell you how I’d been feeling. But then…”
“Oscar,” she breathes out.
“Yeah, Oscar happened,” he smiles bitterly. 
She closes her eyes and he wishes he could read her mind, but he is just waiting patiently for her to process everything. Then she looks at him and finally starts talking.
“I thought you wanted to go there to pick up someone. I didn’t want to go, because I didn’t want to see you flirt with other girls.”
“What?” he whispers.
“I told myself I needed to get myself over you, because you’d never want me. Oscar was nice and funny, but… deep down I always kept comparing him to you. I hated myself for that, because he was so amazing, so caring and loving, but… not you.”
Tears start rolling down her cheeks and he can feel his throat closing up as well.
“I was so mad at you that night. You let me… go through with all that just to tell me you’ve always loved me the night before my wedding. I was angry and I felt like I was played with.”
“That was never my intention.”
“I know,” she nods. “When I calmed down I knew I couldn’t get married to Oscar. I went over to your room in the morning, but it was empty. I wanted to go after you, but I also needed some time to think.”
“And… where are you standing right now?” he asks as he walks over to her, but he’s still not touching her, giving her the chance to move back.
She never does.
“Do you still love me?”
“Y/N, I will never stop loving you.”
“Okay, good,” she breathes out. “Because love you too and if you–”
She doesn’t get to finish, he grabs her and kisses her like he should have all these years ago, like he wants to erase all the bad, the almost-wedding, the suffering, the miscommunication, nothing matters now that they finally met each other at the right time and place. 
“Isn’t it funny?” she breathes out against his lips.
“What is?”
“That you wanted to tell me you love me at a speed dating event, but it took you the longest fucking time to actually confess. It was anything, but speedy.”
He can’t help but laugh, because she is right, it’s comical. 
“Don’t they say good things take time?”
“Mhm, sure,” she grins, pulling him down for another kiss.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
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moonstruckme · 2 months
Note
also i LOVE your poly!marauders apocalypse au (so creative btw!! i'm obsessed!!) and would be so down to read something in that universe where the reader gets hypothermia or something like that hehe !!!! <333333
Thanks for requesting lovely!
cw: mild hypothermia
apocalypse poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words
You keep tripping, which is mildly embarrassing. You think it’s a combination of fatigue and the general numbness that’s pervaded your body even though the layers you’d put on when you’d packed up the campsite that morning. You’d all agreed that, with the death eaters on your trail, it’s really only safe to stay in one area for a few days at a time, even with all the protections you place around your sites. But that means days where, instead of lounging around your tent, listening to the radio and plotting for the Order, you use all the daylight you have to hike through the wintry woods until you’re far enough away to set up another camp. 
Sirius glances back when you stumble again, the toe of your boot catching on a branch you hadn’t seen buried in the snow. It’s a more dramatic affair than it should be, and you barely get your other foot out in front of you fast enough to avoid face-planting into the leaf litter. 
Your shivering worsens as another gust of wind burns your face, making your thick jacket feel like mesh. You think this has to be the worst moving day your group has had yet. The cold is the same, but the sun hasn’t so much as peeked from behind the clouds all day and the wind makes it nearly unbearable. The snow is thick enough that you’ve started stepping in the boys’ footprints to save energy. One of the many perks of taking up the rear. 
You nearly hit Sirius when he stops in front of you. 
“This clearing looks about as good as any,” James is saying, but Remus looks hesitant. 
“I don’t know,” he frets. “Do you think it’s far enough? We’ve been slow today.” 
“You’re tired,” James says kindly. You look at Remus, noting his slouched posture, the weariness he’s never quite learned to hide from his expression. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice his exhaustion before. You’re usually more aware of those things. “And it’s horrid out here. Let’s just call it a night, and if you’re still anxious about it tomorrow we’ll go a bit further.” 
“I can make it further tonight.” 
“It’s not all about you, Moony,” Sirius drawls. He looks especially monochrome against all the fresh white snow, you think. His superblack hair is as eye-catching as neon. “I’ve got a rock in my shoe I’d love to get out, and I know y/n’s knees have to be black and blue from the way she’s been falling for the past hour.” 
His scheme works; Remus looks to you, arguments of his own fortitude forgotten. “Are you tired, dove? You want to stop?” 
You shrug. “Yeah, I guess. It’s cold.” 
Suddenly all three boys seem focussed intently on you. You’re not sure why. You don’t actually recall much of what you’d been talking about. 
“Could you say that again?” James asks you. His brows are stitched together and his eyes have gone all sharp behind his glasses. 
“I just said it’s cold.” 
“Why’re you talking like that, doll?” Sirius takes a step toward you, then looks to Remus. “Why is she slurring?” 
“I don’t know,” Remus says softly. He’s looking at you weird, too. Frowny. “Yeah, let���s set up. Maybe she just needs a rest.” 
James spells the tent up quickly, then makes Remus stay and sit with you while he and Sirius set up the protections and everything else. The temperature inside the magical tent is cozy. Remus lights a fire in the grate to warm you all up. 
“Do you feel okay, lovely?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket. You sit on the bed, working off your shoes. 
“Yeah, just…just really tired.” 
He furrows his eyebrows, placing a palm on your cheek. You have no clue how it’s so warm, but a sigh escapes you as you lean into the touch. 
“When did you start tripping?” he asks you. 
You…you’re not sure. You can’t remember the first time it happened. How long had you been walking?
Your bemusement must show on your face, because Remus’ mouth pinches. His hand slides down to cup your face, fingers pressing oddly into your jaw. Frankly, you could care less where he puts them so long as he keeps touching you.
“Feeling better?” James asks, materializing behind Remus. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but you hum contentedly anyway. 
“I think she might be hypothermic,” Remus doesn’t look away from you as he talks, his eyebrows lowered like he’s waiting for you to answer a question you don’t remember him asking. His fingers press harder into your neck. “Her pulse is…scary weak.” 
James looks at you, and you look at Remus. 
“You really think so?” you ask him, befuddled. “I don’t feel…I’m only tired.” 
“Hypothermia makes you tired,” he tells you gently. “And you’re slurring your words, love.” 
You feel an icy tendril of fear snake around your spine. “I am?” 
“You’re alright.” James catches onto your panic quickly, leaning over Remus to give your shoulders a bolstering squeeze. “Let’s just get some of these layers off you, and then we’ll swaddle you in blankets.” He starts easing off your jumper, leaving you in just your undershirt. You’re newly cognizant of the sluggishness of your movements as you raise your arms to help him. “Once you sit by the fire for a bit, you’ll be feeling back to normal in no time.” 
You nod numbly, lifting your bum to tug off the jeans you’d worn over leggings. James takes the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you while Remus goes to find more in the other room. 
“Poor love,” James coos, dropping a kiss to your head. “You’re shaking like a leaf.” 
“No duh,” Sirius says, the tent flap letting in a blast of cool air behind him. “It’s fucking freezing out.” 
James offers him a sorry smile. “We think she’s got hypothermia.” 
Sirius sobers, stormcloud eyes flickering to you. “Shit, really? How bad is that?” 
“Not too bad, I don’t think,” Remus says, nudging past him with a stack of blankets in his arms. “I mean, it’d be great if I’d thought to bring any books on that sort of thing, but I’m fairly sure if it were bad she’d be more confused and a bit…blueish.” He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, letting James pull it tighter and tuck it about as he wishes. “Do you feel any better?” 
“I think so,” you say quietly. It’s a bit unnerving to be at the center of so much alarm like this. You do feel better being out of the cold, but you’re not sure if that’s what he’s asking. “It’s a little hard to tell.” 
“You don’t seem like you’re slurring as badly,” James evaluates. He cups the back of your neck, planting a kiss on the frozen tip of your nose. “I think you’re getting better already, lovie.” 
Your face certainly feels warmer. 
Sirius grins at your flustering, though it’s dampened by worry. “What about a hot chocolate?” he asks, tone unusually gentle. “Does that sound like it might help?” 
“I’m fine,” you say, and he disregards you immediately, posing the same question to Remus. 
“Would that help?”
Remus shrugs. “It could. Doubt it would hurt. James, love, I think she’s got enough blankets.” 
James frowns, peering through the layers of covering to find your face. “Do you feel warm enough, angel?” 
You blink, owlish. “I think so?” 
He shakes his head. “Sounds far from certain. More blankets it is. Sirius, get started on the hot chocolate.” 
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stacy-fakename · 2 months
Text
I’m sorry, but my type-a ass cannot be against the Rat Grinders. They’re essentially the kids that couldn’t get the special treatment from teachers and get by on stumbling through tests and happening to get an A without studying. The Rat Grinders feel less like people who cheated the system, and more like the kids who aren’t naturally gifted or lucky, and have to spends hours on end studying, doing extra homework and extra credit, losing their social lives and free time to catch up with the kids who can just breeze through it. Fig never went to a single class or did any homework but gets away with it because the coach, lunch lad, and vice principal are her dads, Kristin and Riz did literally the worst thing their respective class can do, Gorgug actively works to avoid using the main feature of his class whenever possible, Adaine became the Oracle through seemingly happenstance, and Fabian’s rich family bought his way into the extra curricular he’s now the captain of, and all of them skipped half of freshman year! Obviously we, the audience, know that they worked their asses off to get through school each year and to get where the are today. We know they earned every little good thing they have! Fig has worked so hard to become the rockstar she is! Kristin literally brought back a god! Riz in a supergenius detective! Gorgug is an incredible barbarian and artificer! Adaine works so hard to help all of her friends survive a toxic system! Fabian slaved away to earn his achievements himself instead of letting his father’s legacy be his identity! But think of it from an outside perspective, without all the knowledge that only the audience has! These random kids stumbled into three adventures that let them skip grinding for XP, got to miss half a year with no consequence, get special privileges and quests because they are related to or friends with the faculty, never do their assignments or go to class, became popular because of their privileges, and now randomly start spouting micro aggressions towards halflings? If I was one of the Rat Grinders, I’d be pissed off too! I’ve been both the gifted kid, seemingly effortlessly breezing through classes and befriending the entire faculty while secretly going through terrible struggle and stress, and the kid desperately trying to game my way through a system built to harm me while being furious at those who seem to thrive in it, and I can’t help but feel empathy for both. I don’t think the Rat Grinders are evil, cheating monsters who plan to destroy the Bad Kids out of spite. I think they’re just kids in a harmful toxic school system that have a lot of righteous anger at their lot in life, that has sadly been misdirected. Idk if this ramble made sense, sorry for the wall of text!
Edit:Introducing Ivy Embra, the first Rat Grinder to actually be antagonistic to anyone in any way! Also introducing Oisin Hakivar, a super nice guy who’s willing to take advantage of his generational wealth in order to help a fellow student! So the first Rat Grinder to actively be nice to someone too! He likely did something with the ice mephits, but he still seemed genuinely sympathetic and helpful to Adaine!
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Do you ever think about medieval medicine in a modern context?
Or the opposite, modern medicine in a medieval context?
Not particularly important, just because I know nothing about medieval medicine other than a few things about modern herbalism that I can’t be arsed to verify the historical accuracy of for fanfiction.
Anyway.
Merlin showing up to work high on painkillers and Arthur having no idea what to do with him would be hilarious. He still tries to work but his depth perception is all off and he’s got next to no coordination.
I can imagine Arthur fondly calling Merlin an idiot while trying to get him to sit down and Merlin bursting into tears because Arthur thinks he’s an idiot.
Arthur: oh no, don’t cry, um. Shit. Gaius! There there, it’s okay… *patting Merlin’s head awkwardly*
Merlin, wailing: you hate me!
Arthur: what? Of course I don’t hate you.
Merlin, crying harder: you do! you called me an idiot
Arthur: oh, Merlin, I never mean that. *relaxes and starts actually being comforting by running hands through Merlin’s hair* it’s like when you call me a prat, I don’t mean it.
Merlin: but it’s “indeery” “ending” *frowning at his inability to say endearing* But it’s nice when you’re a prat!
Arthur: and you’re a very endearing idiot too. Now sit down and let Gaius make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.
Merlin, sniffling: you don’t hate me?
Arthur: never. You might be an idiot but you’re my idiot.
Merlin then bursts into tears all over again, wailing about how Arthur is his best friend and how he’s gonna be an amazing king.
Or an accidental magic reveal where Arthur is trying to stop Merlin from doing too much, and Merlin just complains that he can do it.
Merlin: stupid.
Arthur: taking care of your health is not stupid, Merlin.
Merlin: the laws are. I can do it!
Arthur, not actually believing him: uh-huh. Okay.
Merlin: fine. I’ll prove it. *uses magic to clean Arthur’s entire chambers in thirty seconds flat.”
Arthur: um…
Merlin: but magic is outlawed so you’re stuck with a messy chambers because I don’t want to burn.
Arthur: you- I- what?
Then Merlin realises what happened and starts sobbing uncontrollably because he’s afraid of getting burned.
Arthur, panicking and unable to ‘emotion’: no, nono, don’t cry, it’s just- you’re not going to burn, you’re safe, please stop crying.
Merlin: but I’m a warlock and you hate magic!
Arthur: no, well- it’s… complicated…
Merlin, wailing: I don’t wanna burn, please just chop my head off.
Arthur: no one is chopping any heads off! No one is burning! You’re not evil! You’re too good to be evil! I’ve got questions but you’re not a bad person! You’ve done nothing wrong, so please just stop crying.
Merlin: you think I’m good? *sobs and grabs Arthur into a hug*
Arthur: worst manservant I’ve ever had. Best person though. *hesitantly hugs Merlin back and tries awkwardly comforting him* there there, it’s okay, um…
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sukunas-wife · 2 months
Note
Ryoumen “i want a second son” Sukuna except he gets a feral little princess who matches his energy and is not above taking big bites of dad and only yuuji-nii can control her sksks
Eegehehe- warning- I suck at writing for girls actually😭 I’ve never had a younger sister or niece 🥹 my female cousins are literally non existent also,
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The doctor became nervous after your newborn started crying. The maids made quick work of taking care of everything and handing you your child already bundled up. Sukuna was just as confused before he took his child from you, carefully unfolding the blanket.
The room was silent, everyone turning to Sukuna, for a brief second your aching muscles were numb that you didn’t feel after birth. You were nervous, what happened, why didn’t anyone say anything? Sukuna held the child with two large hands supporting it, using his other two hands to carefully pull back the blanket. He didn’t lift his head, but you watched his mouth gape slightly like he wanted to say something. He turned his head slightly, settling on just looking at you through the corner of his eyes. It was a low rasp “she’s a girl,” he cleared his throat wrapping her back up. Without a doubt it was his, his pink hair, she had even taken to his red eyes like Yuji had. His fixed stare didn’t show it but he was concerned for her, even if he had wanted a second son, “Lord Sukuna we co-No.” he turned to Uraume, “It’s my child regardless if it’s a boy or not. She stays here.” He leaned back, handing you your daughter.
After everyone had cleared the room you were breastfeeding your child. Sukuna sat with arms crossed, eyes closed and his head resting back against the wall. You were staring down at your little girl and you realised, “You didn’t want a daughter because it’s going to force you to settle down.” You were grinning like a fool when you turned to look at Sukuna, he grunted not opening an eye or looking at you. “I’d be a fool to let anything happen to my daughter.”
You hummed, “If she’s anything like you I’m sure she can handle her own like Yuji when she’s older.” Sukuna opened an eye looking at you, “Anya..” you turned to look at him. “Her name is Anya.” There was no room to argue with him on that. He stood up, “I’ll bring Yuji.”
He left the room before you mocked him “oouu I’m Sukuna I’m gonna protect my daughter I’m a big bad tough guy.” You scoffed to yourself, “He doesn’t realise he’ll never hurt another child again Anya.” Leaning down you kissed her little head, and she barely opened her eyes.
—————
“hehehe” Sukuna was sitting on his throne head resting on his fist, eyes closed. You left a while ago to do something he already forgot about. Yuji wanted to go with you but Anya held him back, Anyways was an anomaly. She had no cursed energy or presence. Yet she still had the power to read minds, it was something that baffled Sukuna.
He learned she had that power at the worst time, when you were all gathered eating breakfast. When he thought about getting a collar. Anya just jumped excited “are we getting a dog like the one’s old man sells in town?!” Everyone looked concerned at Anya and she pointed at your husband with a bright smile, “Papa was thinking about buying a collar!” You looked at Sukuna “When did you- Right now! He was thinking about looking for a collar and a really good one so it doesn’t slip up or come loose.” It was the heat on your cheeks when you realised what collar he meant, but you were more concerned when you thought he was actually saying these things out loud in front of Anya.
Sukuna was looking away trying to clear his throat, ‘What the hell is this brat on about? I didn't say that shit out loud… did I?’
“OOOO PAPA SAID A BAD WORD!” Anya covered her mouth with her hands and she turned to you, your mind was drawing a blank ‘…what..what’s going on…”
Yuji was spaced out shovelling food into his face before he looked over, “Anya sit down don’t stand on the chair.” She listened to his not so demanding verse and sat down, “okay Yuji-nii.” She plopped down in her chair before perking up, “Are we getting a dog?”
Sukuna cleared his throat again looked right at her, if his hunch was right, ‘No, we’re not bringing some mangy mutt into the house’
Anya deflated and rested her chin on the table pouting, “why not?” ‘Because I said so.’ “Then why’d you say?��� ‘Because I’m the owner of this house I decide what goes and comes.’ Anya sighed, getting teary eyed, trying her best to plead silently the way Yuji had taught her. Yuji snickered and he turned to you, you were sitting down whispering and asking Yuji if he knew what was going on. He explained to you that he figured out Anya could read minds not too long ago when she kept beating him in stone, parchment, shears, (please I’m sorry😭), hide and seek, and their little treasure hunting games. What he didn’t tell you was he also used her to out scam the guy who shuffles a gold token and bets money you’ll never find it.
It explained to you why Sukuna was just giving her looks and she was vocally responding.. it left you to worry how many of your thoughts she had actually heard. 😭
On a side note- here are some cannon events in the process of Anya growing up 😭😭
As a baby she was menace 🥺 she liked biting/trying to chew her dads fingers when he’d poke her cheeks. Not a cute nibble either, she’d dive in predicting the “If you eat his finger you’ll get stronger”
When she took hold of his finger the first time he was in love. That was his daughter and she meant the world to him. Then she dug her nails hard into his skin making him wince and immediately clip her nails. But when you don’t clip her nails because you're scared you’ll hurt her he always ends up with a scratched chest and hands when she’d try to take hold of something. She’s the reason he started wearing shirts even if they were uncomfortable on his massive arms 😔
Was kinda glad she didn’t sleep in the bed with both of you. She loved sleeping on his chest and Sukuna did also. But only allowed it when he could put those baby gloves on her.
After hitting age one she loved messing with Yuji and Sukuna while they were sleeping. You continuously went after her picking her up with your hand sunder her arms. She’s let out her baby screams and wiggle her body you could hear your husband’s attitude, “unhand me mother! I crave chaos! Ahahahsgsghshss!”
The older she got the more both of you learned the way Yuji admired his dad but was a total mama’s boy? It was almost the same case. Except she admired her dad.. and was a daddy girl. Yes she loved you and thought the world of you, but daddy’s so cool because he has so many cool powers! 🥺
It didn’t matter if she was sleeping in your arms, she was laughing and having the best time with you. If she even felt or heard the slightest sound, meaning Ryomen was in the room, she would scream and cry for him to pick her and take her with him. The same case as Baby Yu, you were jealous Ryo got all the attention and baby love even if they were attached to your chest most of the time.
Speaking of jealous, Yuji was the most jealous little 10 year old boy 🥹 “MY DADDY!” He’d carry Anya back to you so he could sit in HIS dads lap. Sukuna found it amusing and more often than not bullied Yuji. Which actually led to your funny little schedule where when Anya was briefly awake Yuji would be glued to your side. When Anya was asleep Yuji would run and stick to his dads side.
Sukuna has a permanent dent in his side boob where 2yo old Anya crawled over to him on your bed and then latched on, i don’t mean milk- i mean she saw a mound of flesh and went ‘nom’ He grunted and it took everything in him to not swat her instantly. He sat up after pulling her away. She was dangling by her feet clapping her hands and laughing, Sukuna was pressing his hand to his chest helping himself and cursing because no way he really let this brat catch him off guard and mess him up 😭
Which is also when it hits him, she has no presence because she has no cursed energy. He was disappointed but relieved she’d never have a reason to be caught in trouble 🥹
Here’s a little montage of moments 🥹
An invisible child means invisible crimes. Sure, Ryomen could actively tell where she was. But it’s his child he could let his guard down and close his eyes to think about the things he had to do. Breathing became slower the more he started to relax almost to napping completely.
1…2…3…4… “YUJIII NIII I GOT THE THING”
Kamutoke… she took the Kamutoke
Sukuna was going to get up and chase after her but she tripped and face planted into the shiny floors Sukuna had to pick her up and wipe off her tears and snot while telling Uraume to put up his tool because there was no doubt in his mind Yuji or Anya would kill the other with it by mistake
Anya loves her parents, but when Sukuna is thinking Sinister thoughts she runs to Yuji.
Ex. The four of you went out into the city, Anya was riding on her dad’s shoulders the way Yuji used to. She was patting away on his head when she heard the thought, “I should kill that man, I’ll start by slowly gutting him a- wwaahhhhh” followed by squirming and Anya basically jumping over knocking down Yuji. When you asked her what was wrong she said “…nothing… papa is kinda scary.”
Yuji had to piggy back her the rest of the day when she didn’t feel like walking but she sang her cute little “Family ooting” song
This is both Yuji and Anya when daddy’s home ,
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(I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing for girls 😭 I don’t have a niece to spoil or interact with, I’ll have to steal my friend and her little sister next time and play with her 🥹 I’ll do better for next one i promise 😤)
Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @dolliira @ilovemybabies378
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anzulvr · 9 months
Note
What do you think Karma would be like with a calm/chill reader who's easygoing and effortlessly charming personality sometimes turns completely 180 when they feel strong emotions? Like they can go from sweetly comforting Nagisa to yelling oddly detailed threats at Terasaka while chasing him with a metal bottle for eating her food. (Maybe mix in some passive aggressive sarcastic sass when Korosensei's being annoying?)
Karma x Chill(..but actually really passive aggressive) reader 🤗🤗 Ty for the request!! (Sorry took long)
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— You don’t argue often and you are also very good at listening to everyones perspective and ideas even if they’re different from you. People view you as very understanding so seeing you actually getting into a heated fight it’s surprising at first.
— Karma is so surprised when he sees you angry for the first time like he didn’t know you had it in you to say the things you did.
— He TRIES to get you pissed off just to see you react, since you know he’s kidding and dating him gives you a soft spot for him it’s basically just him failing to annoy you.
— This one time Karma scribbled over your paper to bother you and all you did was frown for a second and erase / re do anything he messed up. (He felt bad and helped you when he realized you weren’t going to fight 😭)
— then in a group project with Yoshida (also Isogai and Rinka) Yoshida scribbled a little bit on your notes (not nearly as much damage as Karma made) but it pissed you off so badly you grabbed a marker and started scribbling on his face
“I’ve been working on those notes for days you actual dumbass”
“Hey- I’m sorry!! I’ll rewrite them— get off me your using permanent marker it’ll be hard to take off!!”
“GOOD.”
— “Damn [name] that mad?” When you hear Karma mention how you reacted you stop so fast
“I wasn’t actually mad. We we’re just playing right Yoshida?”
Only out of fear he agrees “Right..”
— You’re tolerance for everything is way higher for Karma because you like him too much to get mad, that doesn’t mean you never get mad at him it just takes a little more to.
— Some of the things you respond with are shady in the way people expect Karma and it’s just so confusing cause it feels so out of character for you.
— but it’s definitely one of the things Karma likes the most about you because 1. It’s funny 2. Hes glad to see you stand up for yourself once in a while because he’s usually the one telling people off for you.
— passive aggressiveness would come whenever Korosensei or really E class is too pushy about certain topics.
For example before Karma confessed to you theyd push you to do it first and come up with crazy plans to make things happen.
— they full on locked you in a room together and instead of waiting it out you found a way to break the doorknob (together #romanceisreal)
Angry you and happy Karma is a mix end class fears because he’ll be constantly hyping it up😭
Like you’ll be be hitting Terasaka with a notebook because he said something stupid and Karma will go:
“[Name] wait— Use this one it’s way thicker!!”
(took inspo for ur original request lollol)
Karma will support anything you try and honestly rile you up more to see what you do
Angry you and Angry Karma is definitely the worst mix of all
hell on earth
! but it hardly happens since you usually reel each other in
Just tell him to chill tf out😭
Having strong emotions isn’t all bad, you’re empathetic, kind and care for everyone in class— even Terasaka no matter how much of a pain he can be.
mom friend-ish?? (Awe yeah Mom friend definitely)
They don’t actually mind it and are grateful for the times you stand up for them bc they know you love them
Especially Karma even though you’re prone to getting into arguments like all couples do it’ll work out fine because you both care to much about eachother.
If you’re the type to remind people you love them after arguing it’s another thing he loves about you, since he himself has trouble saying he’s wrong first it’s helped him swallow his pride and apologize faster.
(Literally so cute my fave relationship dynamic)
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pigdemonart · 1 year
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Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)
When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]
These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.
More info under cut:
Edit: Important disclaimer:
These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍
Tags:
I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.
Height chart:
I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:
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Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)
Notes about each agent...
Cameron:
- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices.  - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too.  - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.
Cloud:
- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling.  - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace.  - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together!  - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.
Furze:
- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.
Isadore
- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao
Jackie
- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...
- Item #: SCP 7453
- Object Class: Euclid
- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.
Ramses
- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.
In-Game Quotes
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The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.
In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.
Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!
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pandoraslxna · 9 months
Text
Sweet like Cherry – Chapter 2
Miles Quaritch x female human reader
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Words: 6.5k
Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.
Warnings: explicit smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, bullying, teasing, sexual tension, virginity, fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, nudes, corruption kink, slight praise and degradation / humiliation, daddy issues, age difference, authority kink, alcohol consumption, edging
Notes: I wrote this during the worst writers block ever, so I feel like there’s still so much left unsaid in this chapter, ugh. Whatever. I still hope you guys enjoy it! Also, please don’t get confused but I’ve decided to switch the pov between Miles and Cherry every other chapter so the story can be seen through the eyes of both of them.
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The first time you could remember being called a nerd it had been as an insult. Of course.
The term exactly used was ‘stupid nerd’ after you had refused to give the answers to a biology test to the rest of the class in highschool. You could handle being called names, it wasn't that much of a big deal. In fact, you were a nerd. There was no way around it. No matter how many times you insisted you had been to any party’s on the weekends instead of studying all night long or that you had made out with that definitely-not-imaginary-boyfriend after school, you were and you would always be a massive nerd.
Nothing to be ashamed of, honestly. It’s what had gotten you this job, after all.
Driven to succeed starting from a young age, you had excelled academically, earning top grades and winning numerous awards. You‘ve always been particularly interested in science and botanic, and even pursued a degree at a prestigious university.
After graduation, you set your sights on this rare opportunity to work at a highly coveted research lab, one that only a handful of people in the world had ever been invited to join. Over the years, you worked tirelessly, taking on increasingly complex projects and earning the respect of colleagues and superiors.
Spending long hours studying, researching and practicing your skills was the reason why you ended up being one of the candidates that were considered for this job. And when the time came to apply, you submitted a flawless application that showcased your brilliance and dedication.
Yes, you were a nerd. But in the end, you had beat out hundreds of other highly qualified applicants for the chance to be send to Pandora, working for the RDA‘s botanical scientific team.
So, it wasn't like you didn't like the word. The only issue was, that it brought back some unpleasant memories you thought that a twenty-five year old adult should have already been over.
But the first time someone on Pandora had called you a nerd, you didn't come back to that memory. No, your mind was entirely too focused on taking in the sight and presence in front of you to even have time to go back to that place, back to the time in school when people thought intelligence was a reason to bully.
The main cafeteria was as cramped as usual, soldiers as well as scientists taking in their meals in the spacious hall. It was well-lit and ventilated, with long tables and benches filling the room that almost reminded you of the cafeteria at your old university back on earth.
The food options are diverse, thankfully. Ranging from traditional earth cuisine to exotic dishes from Pandora. The atmosphere was bustling, with conversations and debates taking place between colleagues, while others sat in silence, lost in thought. Despite their differences, everyone seemed to be united in their shared mission on Pandora, which was something you realized right after your arrival on this planet a couple of months ago. It made you feel like you finally belonged somewhere.
Poking around in what looked like pasta, but was actually some green-yellowish-vegetable, you absently listened to your coworkers wild discussion about a topic that seemed pretty much endless to you.
Maggie‘s latest success of exchanging phone numbers with Phil from floor 3.G. A computer engineer and now basically the talk of the town. The town being you and a couple of female coworkers your age that often shared lunch together, but otherwise barely interacted if it wasn’t work related.
Apparently, it was a rather big deal for Maggie to finally get into Phil’s pants, because, and I quote, "it’s been forever" and "I almost feel like I will revert into a virgin back again if I don’t get laid anytime soon" followed by cheerful laughter and agreement of the whole group.
It was weird, you thought, how people act as though not getting laid is the worst thing that could possibly happen to a person. You, honest to god, could not care less whether or not you will have sex in the next century, much less the next couple of years.
Deciding that you’ve heard enough nonsense for the day, you packed up your lunch and excused yourself with a polite smile.
Lost in thought, your feet tapped on the floor as you waited for the elevator doors to open, so you could travel up to the main lab and continue your work in peace.
Sure, the other scientists were nice and under other circumstances you would maybe even consider them as more than just coworkers, you think to yourself. But you weren’t here to make friends.
The doors then slide open with a ding, cutting off your train of thoughts before your eyes fall on the wall of blue muscles and green cargo pants that were about to exit the elevator, stopping yourself just in time before you ran into them.
These must be the recombinant soldiers all of bridgehead city was talking about lately, you thought. They looked like Na‘vi, almost identical like the ones you’ve studied in books and seen on photos, when the head of security advised you and the others on your very first day on Pandora. You knew Na‘vi were inhumanly tall, but these guys were god damn trees! You had to crane your neck all the way up to even look at their faces.
Your eyes fell on the soldier standing more in the front than the others, spine straight and chest puffed out like a leader. His skins was a midnight blue, with faint, bioluminescence dots all over his body, barely visible in the bright daylight. His eyes immediately landed on you as well, bright like stars and boring through your very soul, like you were an insect that landed on his windshield.
You were so lost in your admiration of the foreign view in front of you, that your feet decided to grow roots underneath your soles, instead of showing proper etiquette and stepping aside.
"Move it, nerd", the recom suddenly said, his voice low and thick and more like a deep, annoyed grumble than anything else. The soldiers behind him begin to chuckle as you quickly scrambled to the side so they could finally pass. Even though he was quite tall, he seemed to move lithe and with grace. Silent, even with heavy combat boots and packed full of military gear. His tail gently swaying behind his back and ears laying flat against his head, he reminded you of a cat.
A big, blue cat.
"At least these damn science pukes never change", you heard the same blue soldier say to his companions before the elevator doors closed right in front of your face, leaving you alone with the reflection of your dumbstruck expression in the silvery reflection.
Colonel Miles Quaritch was the one you’ve crossed paths with on this day. The one who’d called you a nerd, followed by the extremely creative term 'science puke'. Of course you had heard about him, heard his stories, told by soldiers and scientists like he was some kind of myth or legend. And maybe he was.
Until this day, you still don’t know what exactly it was, that made him so incredibly fascinating to you. At first you thought, that maybe you were just mesmerized by the first Na‘vi-like humanoid you had seen in person. They were pretty, no doubt. Exotic. But then again, you weren’t really interested in any of the other recoms.
It was just him.
Cold logic told you that the most sensible thing to do right now was forget about him.
Miles Quaritch was a man of authority. He wasn’t just a guy, like Phil from floor 3.G was just a guy. Not just any man on this moon, not just any man in his mid twenties that you should consider more appropriate and fitting for a woman like you.
So maybe it was the fact that he was older. Old enough that if you would dare to say it out loud, the thought that you think of him as attractive, people would throw concerning looks at you and maybe even scrunch their noses in disgust. Old enough, it would send your mother into a coma.
There had to be some rule against woman finding men around their fathers age hot. Men whose authority made them ten times more attractive. Men that were exotic and alien and blue and tall and— There had to be some law that– that could protect you from the dangerous man that Quaritch was. There had to be something in the books about dealing with this.
This being the pounding in your chest whenever you thought about the Miles Quaritch being the one to pop your cherry. A thought that had never crossed your mind before, not in all of your twenty five years of living, and not with any other man you’ve met before.
Since that day, you kept seeing him and his squad almost daily. Usually, it was just the two of you walking past each other in the hallway, him entering the cafeteria just as you left or watching him get on a samson helicopter from the giant floor-to-ceiling window of the upper laboratory. He definitely was a busy man, never lowering his gaze enough to acknowledge you or literally any other human.
You might laugh if you weren’t feeling so…conflicted, right now. Honestly, how the fuck are you supposed to keep going about your business as usual after this? Making you feel the way he does and then having the nerve, the audacity, to pretend like he hadn’t just thrown your whole world for a loop?
And that’s the painful realization that finally hit you on this tuesday night, after a hot bath with a side of one or two glasses of wine. Okay, maybe three.
To him, you were just one of the many unimportant nerds on this stupid moon, blending into the background like you were part of the interior design.
The third— no, actually it was the fourth glass of wine that you emptied with a final, big gulp. It had a sharp flavor that made you grimace when you were still at your first glass and burned your nasal passages in a similar way to horseradish. But now it was bearable. It’s not like you had any other choice than to drink this overly expensive pandorian wine, made from grapes that were sown and reaped on the soil that was soon to be the new home of mankind. Definitely not worth the price of thirty bucks for a bottle, though.
Turning around in your bed, you sat the glass down on your nightstand. Glancing around, your eyes fell upon the polaroid camera, your camera, perched on the chair by the small wooden desk. Memories come flooding back as you looked at it, reminding you of home and the countless moments captured by the instant camera.
You could almost hear the sound of the shutter and the whirring of the film as it developed. A sense of nostalgia washes over you as you remember the familiar faces and places immortalized by it. For a brief moment, you feel as though you had transported back to your childhood home, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of your family. It was a gift, the old thing. Meant to capture photos of the new world, friends and moments with a loved one. Someone your family, and maybe deep down even yourself, were hoping you would finally find here.
With a sigh, you shook your head as if that would shake off those thoughts. But the harm’s already been done and your interest has already been piqued.
The only guy in this city, on this damn moon, that you were maybe just a teeny-tiny bit interested in, would most definitely never notice that you even exist. You were certain that even if he magically decided to do so, he wouldn’t even find you attractive, let alone interesting enough that you would truly capture his attention for more than two minutes. Your confidence was further undermined by your tendency to overthink and second-guess yourself, making you feel even more inadequate.
If only there was a way for him to acknowledge your existence, to know that there was someone who’s interested in him, without the further embarrassment and humiliation of him knowing who exactly you are and having to stand in front of this giant blue man, and possibly his whole squad too, and confess whatever feelings you harbored for him. Feelings you couldn’t really put a name on just yet.
May it be through the fifth glass of wine and the fact that drinking always lead you to things that never turned out good -the main reason why you thought you had quit drinking at all- or call it faith, but somehow your gaze lands on the little polaroid camera once again. God, it must’ve really been the fucking alcohol screwing with your brain, because there was no way you, of all people, was actually thinking about this.
A man like Colonel Miles Quaritch must’ve been hard to impress. He wasn’t a man of many words, so anonymous love letters wouldn’t do. But he was still a man after all, and if there was one thing you’ve learned in these past couple of weeks (thank you, Maggie), then it was the fact that men were obsessed with the female body and seeing them pop up on their screens at 3am.
But that would require you getting your hands on either his phone number, which you doubted even exists, or his work email, that was probably supervised by someone. A man like Quaritch that was so important to the whole of Bridgehead city really wasn’t an easy target when it came to anonymous messages, let alone nudes that were meant for his eyes only. Which left you with one choice only.
It had to be the old fashioned way.
Being reckless surely didn’t get you into this career path. Actually, it was the complete opposite.
Usually, you were rather cautious and thoughtful in your actions and decisions. You take the time to weigh the risks and benefits of a situation before making a choice, prioritize safety and responsibility over immediate gratification.
Planning ahead and taking steps to mitigate potential risks, rather than rushing headlong into a situation without considering the consequences was more like you.
While you may have not always been the most spontaneous or adventurous type of person, your friends- okay scratch that, your coworkers respected you for your level-headedness and reliability, your sense of conscientiousness and a desire to act in a responsible and considered way.
You didn’t spend half your life being teased as prudent, too careful and deliberate, just to now act like a brainless, horny teenager. Yet here you where, at exactly four-thirty in the morning, sliding a set of carefully chosen polaroids under the gap of Quaritch‘s door.
By now, you knew his daily routines, knew his busy schedule by heart. When he was gone to workout with the rest his squad, knew when he was at the cafeteria and when he was away for a mission. Still, you couldn’t help but glance both ways, making sure the hallway was empty, before you slid them under his door and made a run for it like a school girl placing chocolate on her crush’s desk on Valentine’s Day.
You blamed it on the adrenaline pumping through your veins that day, and also the days after that, but you found yourself laying in bed with a hand buried between your thighs quite more often than usual. Not that you would actually call yourself a voyeur, but there was just something about knowing Quaritch had now officially seen you naked that did something to you.
Miles Quaritch didn't– wouldn't ever touch you, you knew that, was well aware of that even if it pained you. But then again, nobody ever said you couldn't take a deep, shaky breath, slip a hand beneath the waistband of your pyjama pants, and shut your eyes as you touched yourself, imagining it was him touching you, instead. There was no harm in that, really. And you even came to the conclusion that you would be perfectly fine to continue living like that.
In those rare moments you’ve been seeing him during lunch break or the split seconds of passing each other in the hallway, you didn’t note a significant change in his mannerisms. Not towards you or literally anyone else. However, the tension in his shoulders seemed to have loosened up the past couple of days. Not by much, but enough for someone like you to notice. Which could mean two things. One, he still hadn’t figured out that the woman on these anonymous, but very explicit, polaroid photos was you. And two, he didn’t mind receiving them.
This theory was surprisingly proven right just a couple of weeks later.
Unfortunately, in this moment, you weren't as excited about those news as you thought you would be. If anything, you felt like a child getting caught with a hand stuck in the cookie jar, while balancing on a chair that only stood on one leg to reach the top of the fridge.
"Well, well. Look what we have here. If that ain’t my sweet little cherry…"
With trembling fingers, you entered the pass code to your room, the door unlocking with a familiar click to reveal a dimly lit bedroom.
You absently cursed yourself for not making the bed before you had left, too busy rushing out and get to the Colonels room for your daily delivery, hoping he wasn’t back from his mission yet. Luck definitely wasn’t on your side today.
After a long moment of standing motionless in the doorway, you suddenly felt a large palm on your lower back, gentle, yet firmly pushing you further into the room. Your shoulders begin to tense up at the thought of who was standing right behind you, crouching to even fit through the door.
The floor under his heavy combat boots creaked as the Colonel followed you, otherwise silent as a cat. You dared to glance over your shoulder just once, looking back to find him scanning your room like he was entering dangerous territory. His golden eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark, and it send goosebumps prickling over your skin when they landed on you.
Your room wasn’t particularly big, so it only took three or four steps for you to reach the center of it, coming to an halt right in front of your bed before you slowly turned around to face him. You clenched and unclenched your hands into fists at your sides, feeling your fingernails dig into sweaty palms.
Your heart was still racing as Quaritch eyed you up and down. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you mentally prepared yourself for the consequences that awaited you, expecting that you would inevitably face a scolding for your actions.
Your lips parted to speak, yet his voice was quicker to slice through the thick tension in the air.
"Show me", was all he said, arms crossing over his board chest, like a teacher expecting to hear a step by step explanation on how you came up with the answer to a question that was way out of your brand of knowledge.
"W-What?"
The Colonel tsks, but he doesn’t sound all too angry. If anything, he sounds amused. Like this was a game to him, and it made you feel so much smaller next to him than you already were. "How you do it", he chuckled lowly, "Show me how you took these photos, cherry."
His words left you speechless. You could physically feel how your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and words failed to find their way past the knot in your throat. In all honesty, you expected thing to take a different turn here.
The prompting raise of his eyebrows was all that it took for you to plop down onto the edge of your bed.
There was this strange, pulsing sensation in your underwear, hot and insistent— almost an ache, as you stared up at Quaritch with wide eyes.
"Where do you usually put the camera?", he asks ever so nonchalantly, looking around briefly before his eyes bore into yours again and you force yourself to swallow around the lump in your throat.
"There", you point to a chair next to the table in front of your bed. "It has an automatic shutter. Goes off every couple of minutes so I don’t… h-have to get up every time."
The Colonel nods attentively, and then he moves to where you point, one long stride before he sits down right there on the chair. It’s comically small underneath him, his thick thighs spread wide as he leans back and the seat creaks underneath his weight.
"Go on", he urges, his hand gesturing in the air before it comes to rest at this thigh. "Take off your clothes."
A minute passes, and this is too strange for you to be comfortable with. He couldn’t except you to strip down right here, right in front of him. Not with him just sitting there, watching.
You glanced down at yourself with a frown, subconsciously biting your bottom lip in thought.
You never used to think much about how you looked to others. It’s not that you didn’t care about your own body. You cared about hygiene, about a well-groomed appearance. But you had little to no concept of your own attractiveness.
Seeing that you hadn’t moved to obey his command, the Colonel shook his head with another tsk.
"C‘mere", he then said with a sigh, reaching out with his free hand and then grabbed your wrist as soon as you got up from your position, jerking you closer. You swallowed nervously, stumbling and lifting your other hand, bracing yourself against his chest. You blushed the moment you realized the sudden closeness and dropped your hand, trying to step away, but a firm hand on the backside of your thigh wouldn't let you.
"Humor me, cherry", he said, his hands running up and down your thighs, big enough to almost close entirely around them. "I didn’t recall you as being so shy when I’ve got all these photos from you. That was you, right?"
His hands moved up higher, his palms gliding over the soft swell of your ass, reaching for the zipper of your pencil skirt. All hair on your body stood up straight at the sound of your zipper being pulled down.
"Yes, sir", you breathed softly. The Colonel hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband of your skirt, slowly pulling the black fabric down and over your legs. He hums softly as his eyes catch sight of your lace panties, his thumb gently running over the fabric. For a second, your breath hitches and you think he would pull them down next, but then his hands move further up, apparently saving this part for the grand finale. Although they’re big and you expect his fingers to work rather clumsily with the extremely small buttons of your blouse, he opens them swiftly and with dexterity.
The slide down of your sleeves over your shoulders and arms is slow, almost sensually. You shiver once the cold air of the room hits your bare skin. You don’t even know when and how he had opened the clasp of your bra, and it’s only when he makes you lift your arms a little to get it off, that you realize you’re almost completely bare before him now.
The urge to cover your chest overcomes you suddenly, but his hands move faster, snatching your wrists to keep them at your sides. With a warning squeeze, he lets go of them then, in order to let them roam over your body, to admire what was hidden from his sight. Unblemished skin, perky nipples, the rapid rise and fall of your chest synced to your breathing, each one precious, finite. Quaritch’s hand is warm when it runs up your stomach to cup a breast, giving an experimental squeeze that makes you bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard, to stifle a whimper. You should feel shame, you think, as you arch against the warmth of his palm. His thumb brushes over a nipple and your breathing stutters, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips at that.
"This your first time, ain’t it?"
You swallow hard at the question, heart skittering in your chest, as you try to decide whether to put your focus on the feeling of his hand sliding down your waist or figuring out the answer to his questions.
With his other hand, the Colonel traces the outline of your tattoo, his gaze so intense and focused on the fine, red lines, that your breathing soon turns into shallow pants of air. You felt hot. Too hot, as you slowly become aware of the situation you were in.
His hand slides further down your side, along your hips, down to the backside of your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh. This time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper from escaping. Immediately, your hand comes up to cover your mouth. Quaritch smiles at that, wickedly amused. "You're not very good at hiding it. So twitchy and scared. Bit off a bit more than you could chew, hm?"
There came no response from you, besides the shakily exhale of a breath you didn’t realize you were even holding and the red flush of your face.
Quaritch chuckles softly and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, feel it pulsating between your legs.
"Are you into that kind of stuff? Did it get you wet?", he asks with the tilt of his head, "Got all hot and bothered giving me these polaroids?"
The sight of his half lidded eyes staring at you sends a thrill crackling down your spine, wild and breathless. Heat pools in your stomach in a way that you’ve never let yourself get so close to before, the very height of arousal. So different from all the times you had touched yourself.
"Let’s see…", Quaritch murmurs with a sharp grin, not even waiting for an answer as he adverts his gaze further down. And then, you feel his hands on your waist again, pulling at the soft fabric of your lace panties– down, down, down, until they pool at your ankles.
You can’t bring yourself to look at him, don’t want to see his face as he stares right at your most private parts. Too embarrassed, you just glance down on yourself, too.
"Oh, it did! Look at that", the Colonel exclaimed with a chuckle, and your eyes follow his, to where a wet patch had formed on your underwear. "You really are something, aren’t you? Got myself a little exhibitionist, huh?"
Words were still caught up in your throat, so all you could manage to do in place of a verbal response, was look back at him with a flustered face. He clearly meant to tease you, maybe even humiliate you, so why did his words turn you on so much? Your thighs almost automatically pressed together in desperate need for friction.
Quaritch’s hands are large and rough, fingers long and thick. Perfect and so incredibly warm against the skin of your lower abdomen as he slides a single digit between your thighs. His knuckle brushes against your clit, forcing a breathy moan through your lips as he drags his finger back and forth between your folds. His other hand goes tight around your hip, fingertips digging into your inked flesh in an effort to keep you right there, sensing how your knees begin to buckle just from a simple touch like this.
"You’re dripping", he coos, pulling his finger back up for you to see. "Look, that cute little pussy‘s getting wet so easily."
Nervously biting the inside of your cheek, you lock your eyes on his digits, glistening in arousal, and the sight makes more wetness pool between your thighs.
"Now show me", Quaritch all but orders, "Show me how you made these photos. I want to see you touch yourself for me, cherry."
The given nickname he used on you made you blush. The first time you head him use it, earlier, you thought you might have misheard. But now you finally realize that he had really called you that. Cherry. Clearly an innuendo to your tattoo.
Nodding, you step back until your heels touch the edge of your bed and then settle to sit right there. It felt strange, being watched like that. Quaritch leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable for the show that he was hoping you would soon put on for him.
With a shaking breath, you leaned back until you laid flat against the soft mattress. Angling your legs up, you can’t bring yourself to spread them right away. Instead, you close your eyes and imagine yourself alone in your room. It’s easier to get yourself in the mood without the thought of his eyes on your naked form, watching so intensely.
In your head, you try to remember what to do. It wasn’t like you haven’t already done this before, like you didn’t know how.
There was no denying that you liked to touch yourself, late at night when you were quite sure everyone was fast asleep. You‘ve always spent your days with your mind full to the brim with various theories, studies and seemingly endless responsibilities, so much so that you often found it difficult to empty your mind for sleep. Sometimes you would recite the na’vi names of plants to yourself in your head ("Panopyra, Pamtseowll, puríhsa..."), over and over, like counting sheep, trying to memorize their names. But some other times you simply preferred another method of relaxation.
So, it wasn’t like you didn’t know what to do. It was just, that this was the first time someone was there to watch you doing it, and it felt like your brain was close to a short circuit.
Swallowing down the nervousness as best as you could, you let your hands run down your curves, feeling the soft swell of your breasts, over your stomach and down between your legs.
As you part them, ever so slowly, you hear Quaritch groan in approval. Still, you try to ignore it, focusing on the warmth of your skin instead, feeling your own arousal as you glide two finger through your folds.
Instantly, there’s this sensation, hot and burning and you allow it to rise within your core — allow it, and welcome it.
The slick, wet feeling gives you a gratifying sense of accomplishment, fueling you to circle over your clit, gentle at first, but slowly adding more pressure over time. Your other hand clasps over your mouth, barely able to stifle a moan as the other finger that had been teasing your entrance slowly slips inside.
"Don’t you dare cover your mouth." The Colonels voice makes you clench, which causes you to inhale sharply. "I want to hear you."
It takes every ounce of confidence you had left in yourself, to finally pry your eyes open and look at him from your current position, while you slowly lowered the hand from your face.
Quaritch was still sitting there, on his seat across the bed, unmoving. His irises had turned into slits, reminding you of a cat when it’s hunting a mouse. A metaphor that couldn’t have been more fitting.
With his thighs spread and his hands lazily resting on top of them, you actually found it quite surprising that he wasn’t… touching himself, too. Deep down, you were probably hoping he would do so. Were even a tad disappointed that he didn’t.
You could clearly see the bulge under his tactical cargo pants, could only imagine the way his cock must throb underneath the restriction of the fabric, and your mouth begins to water as your minds eye provides you with vivid images of him in all his glory. You wondered what he might look like. Did the color match the rest of skin? Did he had stripes and freckles?
Breathlessly, you feel your head dip back further, as you recognize the heat slowly building, radiating from your core. Gyrating your hips, the feeling of wetness and pleasure builds within yourself, enough to make your hip buck up against your own hands.
"Wanna know what I’ve been wondering?", Quaritch asks and it takes you a second in the haze of your mind, to proceed what he had just said.
You nod, once.
"I‘ve been wondering what you were thinking about while taking all these dirty pictures for me."
You’ve never thought hearing someone’s voice would turn you on this much, but here you were, dipping your middle and ring fingers past your tight entrance, gently but firmly making their presence feel inside. They’re surrounded by that slick, growing warm feeling as you press them in further, just barely curling them up. It’s tight, too tight, you’re afraid you‘ll hurt yourself if you add another.
You hear him chuckle, low and deep, as you exhale shakily. Then his eyes travel lower, pointing to the space between your thighs, were two of your digits were now buried deep, "What were you thinking while you stuffed those pretty fingers into your cute little cunt, huh?"
It takes a few tries, the tension slips for a moment or two, but soon, you find the right angle to allow your slippery fingers to caress the spot you‘ve been seeking.
"You. I was…", you swallow thickly, "thinking about you."
"Bit more specific, cherry."
More pleasure begins to wash over you, not unlike waves washing ashore, as you build up the tension your body craves you to chase. His words clearly meant to tease, sent your heart a flutter, legs flexing and bending, hips pressing into the mattress, back arching as your head once again dips back and the ministrations of your fingers find a sensual rhythm.
You curl them up, dragging them along your soft, spongy walls and you moan, gasping and panting, "I was imagining what you would do with my photos. If– If you’d like them. Was thinking about you… jerking off to them, t-too."
"S‘that so?", the Colonel snickers. You hear the sound of fabric, rough hands running up and down muscular thighs, a chair creaking again, as if he repositioned himself. "Well, you’d be more than happy to hear that I did have a good time with these photos then."
Your toes curl tightly as you approach what might just be the state of bliss you‘ve been seeking. The verge of Nirvana, quite literally, at your fingertips. Inhaling sharply, you feel that pleasure intensify and spread throughout your entire body. Your toes curl tighter, though you’re only vaguely aware of it for a moment.
"F-Fuck", you gasp, fingers speeding up their pace, faint squelching sounds reaching your ears and distantly, you feel your own slick run down the curve of your ass, soaking the sheets below.
"Language", Quaritch hisses and your hips rise as if trying to chase the source of his voice.
"S-Sorry, sir", you all but moan, "It’s just- I‘m close, so close!"
"Yeah? You’re gonna make yourself come?"
You can only nod your head at that, face flushed and teeth biting into your lower lip to prevent yourself from moaning entirely too loud, embarrassing you further than you already were. God, you were a mess. You didn’t know if it was truly as humiliating as it felt, to be bought to the edge within minutes, just from touching yourself in his presence.
The sound of your whines and moans start to increase in volume the more pressure you put on your clit, moving a finger over that little bundle of pleasure in fast, tight circles.
You’re so close. So, so close. Almost there, just a little more. More. More. More. Right there—
But then the sound of a voice, a voice of sheer authority curses through your entire being, haltering your movements and slowing them down as if he had a firm grip on your wrist with his words alone.
"Didn’t recall giving you permission, though. Try again."
With a sound somewhere between a frustrated groan and a high pitched whine, you begin to chant pleas like they are prayers, "May I cum? May I please cum, sir? Please, please, please!"
You curve your finger a little more and pick up the pace again, thrusting them faster with every word, every plea, until tears begin to prick and the corner of your eyes and your back arches off the bed, twisting and trembling from holding it in. It was all heat and pleasure. All those sensations, thoughts and emotions. Everything so close, but you just couldn’t reach it. Not yet. You felt like a puppet on a string, waiting for him to pull the right thread and help you to your release.
You’re right on the edge, right there. Hell, you‘d been on edge for the last couple of months. The moment Miles Quaritch had entered your life, you had been on edge, and today might just be the day everything goes to hell.
"Good girl", Quaritch purrs, the sound coming from deep within his chest, so full of satisfaction as he finally granted you the permission to, "Go ahead then. Come for me, cherry."
The gasp hadn’t even fully left your throat and you were a little more than just a trembling, incoherent mess by the time you came, clamping down around your fingers and pushing them in as deep as they could physically reach.
The squelching sounds your orgasm coaxed out from between your thighs filled your own ears, growing louder by the second. It was only overturned by the sound of blood rushing to your head from holding your breath until the first wave of electricity shocked through every fibre of your being.
Then, the blissful sensations of sexual gratification engulfed you. You felt the pulse of your throbbing clit right underneath your fingertips, velvety-like walls tightening around your digits in pulsating waves, intensifying the sensation that dared to consume you whole.  
For a timeless moment, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss, with stars dancing behind your eyelids and a sound close to the static white noise of an old tv in your ears, before all your sensibilities gradually returned to you like a balloon gently floating back down to earth. Your whole body was buzzing in the afterglow of your orgasm, so intense it surprised you that this was all done by yourself. The internal buzzing seemed to be loud enough for you to overhear the distant sound of a door, your door, closing shut.
You didn’t even notice how tightly you had squeezed your eyes shut, until you slowly opened them again.
As your shaky, thrilled body slowly rises and you prop yourself up on your elbows, it finally clicks within your mind that you’re alone. You blink a few times, glancing at the empty seat in front of your bed.
He’s gone.
He had left, the man that was just there, the man that had been staring at you, watching you this entire time, like you were a sample in a laboratory for him to analyse, an experiment that he wasn’t sure turned out quite right. But his eyes, his eyes that were looking at you so intensely, had been… there had been something. There was something in them, a spark that you surely didn’t just imagined. Sometimes you couldn’t quite put a name on just yet.
Miles Quaritch may be an asshole, but he didn’t just play with you for the fun of it, watched you come undone in your room, on your bed, your safe space, with your legs spread wide like you would do that for just anyone and then leave.
But he did.
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