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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

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BTS Reaction ||Prank Wars [Request]

BTS X GN!Reader

WARNING: FAKE PHYSICAL FIGHT IN JIMIN’S REACTION

SEOKJIN:

Jin smirked to himself as he finished applying the small fake hickey's up and down his neck, he was proud of himself for making them look at least a little convincing in low light. He knew you were due home any minute and he was determined that he was going to be the one winning this prank war the two of you had seemed to have found yourselves in together. It started off with the small squirt of water here and there but now it had turned into a full-fledged war between you both, each of you outstepping the other. The door turned to the bedroom and he picked up some concealer from the desk quickly pretending that he was attempting to cover up the purple marks when you walked through the door.

"J-Jin?" You stuttered out as you stared at the marks on his neck, your heart sinking as you began to think of him sleeping with someone else, someone that wasn't you.

"Babe, it isn't what it looked like-" You began crying into your hands dramatically as you thought of him with another person and Jin couldn't help but feel bad at the thought of a joke making you this upset.

"Baby please, listen-"

"No, we're done...I-I can't believe you would ever cheat on me." You whimpered as you walked out of the bedroom door, tears rolling down your face as you headed towards the front door of your shared home. Jin continued to plead with you to turn around and look at him but you stood at the door with your back to him,

"I can't believe you would ever do something like that...T-That you think I would fall for something like that," You laughed as you turned to look at him, turning on the flash light to show the sparkles of the purple eyeshadow he'd used on his neck.

"Dang it," He hissed out as he realised you had been pranking him, of course, you knew they were fake the moment you walked into the bedroom door, the light reflected on the glitter and he'd left the evidence all over the vanity.

YOONGI:

Yoongi whined out as you continued tickling his sides, you knew just how ticklish he was under his arms and down his hips so you were doing your best to tickle him in revenge for him putting salt in the sugar pot making your drink salty.

"You're evil Min Yoongi," You cried out as you straddled his lap continuing to tickle him as he thrashed around beneath you doing everything he could to get you off him but that was when he came up with the genius idea.

"Babe! Stop!" He whined out as he continued trying to push you off him, slapping your hands away before he whined again.

"Areum stop!" You froze in place at the mention of his ex-girlfriends name and you stared down at him,

"What?" You questioned thinking you might have just misheard him through all the laughter and whining but he frowned,

"I said stop Y/n," You shook your head as you struggled to get away from him,

"You called me Areum-" As soon as a giant smirk took over his face you knew that it was his plan to just get you to stop tickling him so much so you grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face, laughing as he rolled back against the floor in a fit of chuckles.

HOSEOK:

You stared over at Hoseok as he worked on his laptop from home, he had planned to take some time off and spend it with you but so far he'd been working from home.

"Hoseok can you get me my jacket please?" His whole body tensed and you smirked to yourself knowing that your plan was working, he slowly turned to look at you with sad eyes.

"What?" He questioned, you glanced over at him innocently as if you had no idea why he was so upset all of a sudden.

"Hoseok, can you get me my jacket? Please..." You repeated but his eyes seemed to get sadder and it felt as though you were staring down at Bambi.

"Why? Why are you calling me Hoseok? Did I do something wrong? Did I forget our anniversary?!" You could hear the panic in his voice as he rushed to his feet checking the calendar as you did your best to hold back a small laugh as you watched him.

"Baby relax, I was just playing." You laughed as he looked at you, his eyes still sad as he began to pout a little, sitting beside you and kissing you all over your face.

"I promise to spend today with you after I've finished this email." He whispered before going back to his laptop.

NAMJOON:

Namjoon left half an hour ago to go to the studio for some kind of emergency leaving you home alone after watching the scariest horror movie you'd ever watched. You thought you would be able to manage it without being too scared but that was before Namjoon up and left you in the middle of the night.

"I'm fine, it's just a movie." You whispered to yourself as you headed up the stairs to bed, flicking the light switch on as you entered the bedroom, you sat down on the bed and tried to calm yourself down when all of a sudden the light turned off and you let out a scream.

"I-It's fine! It's just the light bulb, it's old." You tried to reassure yourself but it came back on only to go off again a couple of more times making you scream out and hide under the blankets as Namjoon continued turning the lights on and off from the main switch downstairs.

"Babe!" He yelled out as he heard you crying to yourself under the sheets, he sprinted up to you bringing you into his arms as he did his best to hide his laugher.

"I was just playing around, I'm sorry." He whispered as you sniffled in his arms, shaking at the thought of a ghost being in the house only for it to turn out to be your dumb ass boyfriend.

"If I wasn't so scared you'd be sleeping on the sofa." You complained before pouting up at him.

JIMIN:

Jungkook and yourself had been practising the routine for weeks, you had fake sugar glass around the apartment as well as fake blood pods stashed in your pockets. Jimin had the genius idea of starting a prank war between everyone and you and Jungkook teamed up together to end it, deciding to "fight" one another as if a prank had gotten out of hand and you were truly mad at him.

"You're a fucking bitch!" Jungkook yelled out as soon as the front door opened to reveal a concerned Jimin standing there watching you both.

"Yeah! Well, at least I'm not a fucking cry baby!" You yelled out as you playfully shoved Jungkook against the wall only for him to light push you back, knocking you into the coffee table that smashed and made you hit the ground. Jimin yelled out for you to stop but Jungkook stood above you, pretending to punch you since Jimin couldn't see which was your cue to bite down on the blood pill in your mouth. Jungkook was dragged off you and placed on the floor as Jimin began to lecture him about how much of an idiot he was, getting ready to hit his friend when you jumped up.

"Now will you stop with the stupid pranks, before this really happens?" You gestured to the floor as Jimin's face ran pale realising all of it had been fake, he nodded before kissing your face softly relieved that you were okay.

TAEHYUNG:

You woke up from a nap to see Taehyung sitting above you with a panicked look on his face, you frowned wondering what was wrong when you suddenly felt something on your head.

"B-Babe?" You questioned as your fingers graced over the piece of paper that was attached to your eyebrow,

"Baby, don't overreact...I-I was going to prank you by "waxing" your eyebrow but I've accidentally put a real wax strip on." Taehyung's voice gave you all the sincerity you needed to know he was being serious and you let out a whine at the thought of having one eyebrow.

"You can just draw the other one on." He said as he tried to remind you that this was all going to be okay but you were up on your feet and staring at yourself in the mirror trying to come up with a way to take it off without taking the hairs out.

"Here, the internet says to do this-" Taehyung spoke as he looked at his phone, you turned to look at him wondering what it was when he suddenly ripped the sheet off making you scream out.

"BABE! MY EYEBROWS!" You yelled turning back to the mirror in a panic to see it was still sitting there fine while Taehyung died of laughter in the background.

"Oh it's on." You breathed out as you stared at him,

"You want a prank war...You'll get one," You smirked at him, turning to leave the room to come up with some ideas to prank him back with.

JUNGKOOK:

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," The boys were all crowding around you as Jungkook bought a cake into the room, your age on the cake with sparklier candles as all of them sang together.

"Happy birthday to Y/n, happy birthday to you!" They all chorused as the cake was placed down in front of you, you smiled happily as you saw an image of you and all seven of the guys sitting on top of the white cake, it looked like it was going to taste heavenly.

"I want my face," Yoongi said as he watched you picking up the knife to cut into the cake with, Jungkook was watching with a smirk on his face the entire time while Namjoon set his phone to record.

"Does everyone want their own face?" You questioned innocently not knowing that the cake wasn't a fake at all but that Jungkook had covered floral foam in icing to make it look real.

"Sure," They all said together as you tried to stick the knife in, the smile fading from your lips as you thought maybe the cake had gone bad,

"Baby I can't cut it." You looked at Jungkook who told you to try again but when you did you heard a creaking noise and you knew why,

"You're evil!" You whined as you stabbed the knife into the centre of the "cake" and wiggled it apart to see the green floral foam poking through you began pouting playfully while all the boys laughed.

"Here baby, a real cake." Jungkook laughed as he placed a real cake down in front of you this time.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @taestannie @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @agustdjoon @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @justbangtanthingz @anxiousbobatea

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years ago

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Gravity

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

A/N: This was basically just a therapy write.

What is worth? It is neither tangible nor seeable. It doesn’t have a body or a shell. Yet, the endless chase to catch it, to hold it captive, is a never ending disease that eats away at the brain and tears apart the heart. It’s only descriptor is feeling. A judgement. Something either is or isn’t. When it's an object in question, the call for worth is passive, innocent. It’s wanted or it's not. The deterioration comes into play when the worth is applied to a person.

Kim Junmyeon was worth the world.

With a smile that could chase away a storm and a heart too good and pure for the human populace, he was truly worth more than the world. He was worth more than you deserved.

Not only was his face kind, but it was handsome. Beautiful, even. Candid photos were museum worthy masterpieces. There was a gentleness, a softness to his eyes and cheeks that contradicted the sharpness of his jaw and the strength of his body. His laugh was infectious and his mind as vast and deep as the ocean. The sum of his whole was worth so much.

But you were not worthy of such a person. You weren’t as stunning as a sunset over the mountains or as extraordinary as a new discovery. You were simply… you. Staring from afar, admiring but never touching.

You wished you could be worthy. You wished you could be special enough - good enough to be with him. Pretty enough would be something decent to settle for. But you were invisible. A person on the sidelines. Out of the spotlight. You were an admirer - not one to be admired.

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked, your attention torn away from the spot where Junmyeon was standing, laughing and chatting with a few of his seniors. Kyungsoo, who sat to your left at the small table in the entertainment building’s cafe, didn’t even look up from the script he was currently reviewing. He’d only been given it the day before and was still considering if he wanted the part that was being offered to him.

Your gaze dropped to the opened yet untouched notebook lying in front of you on the somewhat sticky surface. Someone must have spilled their syprup-y coffee and didn’t do the best job at cleaning it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without moving his head, Kyungsoo looked at you over the rim of his glasses. Even though you were sure you were nothing more than a blur to his eyes at the moment, he could always see right through you. “If you keep staring at him like that, you’re going to give yourself away.”

The ultimate nightmare. The humiliation of being found out. The sweet but awkward rejection that you knew would follow. With his laugh still ringing in your ears, you forced yourself to tune Junmyeon out.

Pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, Kyungsoo straightened and closed the script. “We can go somewhere else, if that would help.”

You wanted to argue no. That you weren’t a coward. That you weren’t going to run and hide simply because you looked at him like he was the night sky while you were stuck on the ground. You used to have better control of yourself. You used to be able to hide it better. But lately, it had only gotten worse.

And you were a coward.

“Yeah. Maybe one of the practice rooms is empty.”

“There’s usually one.”

After gathering up your things, you followed Kyungsoo out of the cafe, stealing a final glance. Junmyeon didn’t so much as twitch in your direction. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he hadn’t even realized that you were there in the cafe for the past half hour.

Kyungsoo settled into one corner of the worn navy blue couch while you squeezed into the other. Not speaking a word, he went back to reading the script. That was a nicety of your friendship. Comfortable silence was more than readily available when needed. He didn’t push or give unasked for advice. He was an ear to listen and a presence to take in when you didn’t want to be alone.

You stared down at the notebook in your lap where your next story ideas were supposed to be filling the pages. But nothing was coming out. Not even the vague pictures you’d had earlier this morning. The only things being called to the paper were the sentences held in the invisible tears you refused to shed. Words of wishes and frustrations swirled around inside the tiny droplets, every letter as heavy as lead. Your cruel mind kept echoing at you the conversation that had constricted the air in your lungs.

Two days ago, you’d accidentally overheard a drama staff worker jokingly say that Junmyeon and his current co-star seemed awfully close, more than merely friends. Stomach lurching, you ran to the nearest bathroom. Nothing came out but almost fifteen minutes of deliberate breathing had gone by before you emerged again. Kyungsoo was quick to dismiss the comment after barely three words from you. The effect, however, still lingered.

Despite the history of your intrusive thoughts, you wanted to believe that you could be good enough. That you were worthy of being beside someone like Junmyeon. His co-costar was stunning, even in real life. Someone who didn’t need photoshop to draw out gasps of awe and astonishment. Someone you most certainly couldn’t compete with in any race.

You weren’t asking for much. Just to be able to hold his hand, your fingers interlaced between his own. The fantasy you allowed yourself to indulge in at times wasn’t a grand gesture or a modern fairytale. You wanted simplicity. The smaller moments that could mean so much. Mundane, to some eyes.

Warm sun rays leaked through the closed blinds over the living room windows. A clock on the wall ticked away the meaningless minutes. Sometimes soft music hummed in the background, sometimes there was nothing but silence. Junmyeon would lay across the length of the couch with you wrapped around his side. His fingers would absentmindedly caress your shoulder or arm. In his other hand was a book, held open by his thumb and pinky. Your own hand drifted through his hair while he read aloud.

The two of you had dozens of endless conversations about books. About the ones you loved and the ones you hated. About deeper meanings and the reflections of life. His love of literature - from the celebrated classics to the obscure unknown - had been what initially drew you in. Everything else was what made you stay.

A muscle in your hand cramped. The peaceful scene faded from your eyes. The page was now filled with barely legible, ink-smeared words. You’d written the entire scenario out, along with your heart, without even realizing it.

In a panic, you ripped the paper from its spiral hold, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the trash can across the room. It missed.

“I doubt whatever you wrote was that bad,” Kyungsoo murmured. He read the final few lines of the script and closed it.

“It wasn’t,” you admitted bitterly. “But I shouldn’t have written it.” You described the scene to him while your eyes stayed trained on the loose thread twirling between your fingers.

He sighed. “You’re never going to tell him, are you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re just stopping yourself.”

You scoffed. “Why would I deliberately set myself up like that? Break me the rest of the way?”

Kyungsoo stared at you, long and hard, his expression blank to those who couldn’t read the tell-tale signs that his thoughts were in overdrive. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

You sniffed, though no tears were yet forcing their way to the surface. “Most days.”

“Then walk away.”

“I can’t.” Your voice broke - just like your heart. The world blurred when you shook your head. “I can’t… simplify it. But-- It’s like I was this stupid lump of rock drifting aimlessly through space, content with my life. Then suddenly, I came across this brilliant star that shined so brightly and… we collided. And now I’m stuck in his orbit. But he just keeps on spinning while my whole world had changed completely. He’s… my gravity. I don’t know anything else anymore.”

“Maybe it’s time to find your own orbit.”

Afraid it might crack again, your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

The door creaked open and your heart leapt. Junmyeon stuck his head inside. Had he overheard everything?

“There you are! I turned away for a second and suddenly you two weren’t in the cafe anymore.”

He’d… He’d seen you? In the cafe?

“It was too loud,” Kyungsoo lied, covering up for you like he always did.

“It’s always too loud for you,” Junmyeon teased. Then his face morphed into that leader-esque expression. “We need to head to rehearsal. You’re welcome to join us,” he nodded to you.

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly in response. “I have a writer’s meeting.” No, you didn’t, but space felt like the right choice at the moment. You tried not to focus on the lack of disappointment coming from the direction of the door.

“Maybe next time.” Junmyeon slapped the side of the door. “Let’s go, Soo.”

You were actually the first one on your feet, muttering goodbyes to both of them and then walking down the hall perhaps a little too fast.

You didn’t allow your mind to think the whole way home. Every action was done in automatic mode. Only the minimal amount of awareness was used. But when the apartment door clicked behind you, when the near darkness wrapped you up, when the silence crept in and the empty couch mocked you… you broke.

Knees buckling from under you, the cold hard floor came closer and you didn’t leave that spot just inside the room as the tears and sobs crashed out in waves.

This was what you hated the most. The breakdowns that came with no excuse. They were built up by your own mind, by your intrusive thoughts. You tortured yourself with what you could never have. The attacks were random and it was only recently that you had learned to hold them in long enough until you were safe within your own walls. One time, you hadn’t made it. Kyungsoo had been there to pat your shoulder.

Kyungsoo. He was right.

That clarity was coming through as the tears dried and your breathing evened out again. You needed space. You needed to separate yourself from what wasn’t good for you and not see him. Not even have the temptation to.

This was going to hurt like hell.

The office somehow looked smaller with the bare walls. Since the day you moved in, you tried to liven it up, give it character, make it reflect the interests you loved. How were you supposed to write if this place felt like a stifling corporate desert, dry of any creativity?

Not that you ever actually wrote in this twelve by eight space. This place had been reserved for meetings and other usually boring necessities. You didn’t know the next time a budget meeting or an email check would be conducted here. You could be back in a few months and move back in as if you never left. Or someone else could take over. Only time would tell.

The box that currently had your attention was nearly full. You’d have to come back for the rest. There wasn’t much left, anyway. You took another look around to see if there was anything else you could do at the moment. The monitors were black, the tower underneath - so much smaller than the one you’d had as a kid - was powered off, and the chair that was aligned just so to your favored adjustments was pushed into the gray desk. Saying goodbye to this place really did hurt.

But you needed to do this.

And yet, you felt like you were drowning, being dragged deeper into the black water. Your lungs were screaming for relief.

“You’re really leaving?”

Your shoulders stiffened. At first, you didn’t look up at him. You weren’t sure what to say to him. Being here… it was the last place you expected him to be today. Kyungsoo would have told him, but you wouldn’t have waited around for him to appear.

“Hi, Junmyeon.” You folded up the top of the box, overlapping the pieces so it would stay shut in transport.

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I love it,” you confessed. “But I- I need to go home for a little while.”

“Are you homesick?”

“Something like that.” Definitely some version of sick.

He nodded. “Will you be gone long?” His eyes drifted over the holes in the walls leftover from the frames that used to hang in front of them.

“I don’t know.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This was…. You should go. Pushing your fingers under the box, you started to lift it to take it home.

“Do you have to go?”

The question stalled you. Confused, the box went back down on the desk. “Why are you here, Junmyeon?”

He shrugged, though it didn’t shake off the stiffness in his shoulders. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his arms all the way to his wrists covered up by the sleeves of his shirt. Lately he had been rolling them up. You wondered what had changed today. “You’re our friend.”

Friend.

Friend. Friend. Friend.

The word rang over and over like a declaration of war. Our friend.

The smart thing to do would have been to nod, say goodbye, and leave. But - instead - you opened your mouth.

“I will always be your friend.”

That didn't make him smile like you would have thought. “So, then why do you have to leave?”

You rubbed your eyebrow, fighting within yourself. You lost.

“Have you ever had a friend so head over heels for someone that won’t even look at them twice? But they don’t care? Because as long as the person they’re looking at is happy, then they’re happy. Even if your friend is completely miserable in the process. Because they no longer care about their own self. They just keep looking at the other person, doing anything that entails that they’re still happy.” You swallowed thickly to try and keep your voice steady. By your sides, your hands were trembling at this roundabout confession. “And you want to shake them. You want to tell them to get out. Because as long as they stick around, they won’t look at one else. No one else exists. Well, this is me. Getting out.”

The frown on Junmyeon’s face deepened as he let your words sink in. “Who is it? Will you tell me?”

No. Because this was enough of an admittance. Because it was time to find your own sense of gravity.

So, without a word, you picked up the box and left the office.

Waiting for you when you came back was the scene you had written in the practice room that day, flattened out but still wrinkled as it laid on the desk.

#exo #kim junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #suho x reader #exo oneshot #exo drabble #exo angst #exo unrequited love #kpop

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violetsoju · 4 years ago

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airport

kuroo tetsurou · fluff · 2.2k

warning: slight suggestive theme, mild language, characters are aged-up

a/n: did i write this on impulse because i still can’t believe i was actually in this situation? maybe. did i write this as a manifestation of having a kuroo to bitch about and assure me? maybe too. did i get more encouraged to write this after reading a discussion in a server on bra sizes and brand recommendations a few days ago? maybe three.

“Kuroo, I’m serious. Stop laughing.”

A distinct cackling laughter from the speaker of your phone fills the four walls of your bathroom, along with a lazy lopsided grin flashing on the screen that’s perched on the wall mounted shelf next to the sink.

“But you’re making it so hard not to! Plus, you’re supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes, not talk and brush your teeth at the same time for two minutes.” Kuroo reasons, laughter turning into soft chuckles.

“Sorry babe, but I didn’t catch anything you said just now because you sounded like a fish blubbing underwater, except you’re blubbing white foam instead of bubbles.”

He finds it hard not to grin like a fool at your figure from his side of the screen, hands on your hips with a toothbrush stuffed in your puffed-up cheeks, hair pushed back with an elmo headband that he finds ugly yet cute because of the two ridiculously huge eyes dangling on top.

You mumble something yet inaudible while wiping away the drool of toothpaste dripping down the side of your mouth, a small pout dotting your lips.

“Rinse up and tell me from the top again once you’re done, alright?” Kuroo sighs, shaking his head adoringly as he manages to make out a ‘fine’ out of the string of muffled sounds from you.

And do you listen to him completely? Of course not. So he rests his left cheek on his palms, humming to the bits of information you try to squeeze in without accidentally swallowing tap water while cleansing your face.

The white tiles in the background shift to cream walls shakily, along with the shuffling sounds of room slippers against the wooden flooring. “Then as we were walking towards the karaoke place, I somehow fell behind the rest and ended up beside him. And guess what happened?”

“He confessed to you?” He jokes, oblivious to where this is heading, yet.

“God, I’d rather that happen.” You take a seat in front of your study desk filled with skincare products tucked on the side, placing your phone against the wall. “Instead, he called out to me, which I turn to him and find him looking at my boobs, saying ‘oh, its nothing’,”

Kuroo visibly flinches a little, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, eyes widening slightly, like he just tasted a sip of milk that has gone bad. “Excuse me?”

“He was looking at my boobs, Kuroo. My boobs. Shamelessly. Saying ‘oh, its nothing’. What the heck?” You mentally thank yourself for not opening the cover of the toner in your hand, to save the mess you would have made from all the expressive hand gestures.

“And you were wearing your usual tank top, right?” He smacks his lips together, as if trying to get rid of the bad aftertaste.

“Yeah, the usual square neck rib knit tank top that I always wear.” He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Your wardrobe of tops flashing through his head. “The one that you don’t understand why I own a several pieces in different colours. That one.” A long ‘oh’ resonates through the speakers, the particular top emerging from the sea of clothing.

Kuroo processes the image for a few seconds. “That’s not revealing at all.”

“Exactly! It’s like the most basic thing? There’s tons of girls out there who wear the similar thing as me too.” You tap your toner onto your face with your hands. “And I was even wearing a jacket on top of it? It’s not like I was fully exposed or something. But even if I didn’t have my jacket on, I don’t see how it’s taken as a sign to stare brazenly like that. I wear whatever the heck I want to make myself feel and look good, not for someone else to ogle at, unable to keep their raging hormones in check.”

He hums in agreement. “What did you do or say to him then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what made me so pissed at that moment either.” You sigh, reaching out for your wash-off mugwort mask. “I snapped at him, telling him that when he talks to girls, he should be looking at them in the eye, not at their boobs.”

“That’s my girl.” Kuroo flashes his signature cheshire-grin. “What did he say then?”

Your lips purse together, recalling the situation. “I don’t think he even heard me. Partly because you know how I rush through words like I’m rapping when I’m mad.”

“Told you to apply for that rap competition show on tv.”

“Kuroo.” Your glare earns an apology and light-hearted chuckles. “Another reason why I don’t think he heard me was because he actually had the balls to sit next to me during the karaoke session.” His eyebrows arch at the statement. “To which I dragged Mizuki to sit next to me and he got pushed to the side with the other guys.”

He huffs through his nose with a tinge of frustration, fingers running through his dishevelled hair. “How old is he again?”

“20, I think. But still, that’s no excuse for being so disrespectful towards girls and women. He’s already a full-grown adult for crying out loud.” You set the timer to 15 minutes on your phone, shuffling to your bed. “Out of all the boys I’ve met that are of his age or back when we were his age, I’ve never met such a disrespectful guy. In this area of discussion, I mean.”

“You mean you haven’t met such a horny monkey before.” Kuroo summarises. You snort at his remark, making yourself comfortable under the covers while waiting for the mask to work its magic.

“So you’re mad that he looked at your boobs.”

You place your phone between your folded knees, slouching against the bed frame. “Of course I am. It’s a violation against my body. How the fuck does he think he’s entitled to look at someone blatantly like that? Imagine someone staring at your dick like its nothing.”

The stupid cocky smirk appears on screen again. “Not gonna lie, but I would be proud. Or amused.”

“Freak.” You scoff, scrunching your nose at his reply.

His amber eyes gleam under the dim lights through the screen. “You sure you’re not mad at anything else?” He prods, not letting you off the hook.

“I guess I’m so mad because I never expected this to happen to me. I mean, look at me. What’s there to look at when I’m basically as flat as an airport?” You gesture to your breasts, ignoring his ‘you’re exaggerating’ interjection. “I would understand if he was staring at someone voluptuous or well-blossomed. But what’s the point of staring at a wall so flat there’s no cracks or dents in between?”

Kuroo’s sharp yet soft features settle into a knowing look. “So there is something else that you’re mad at.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That is?”

“You’re upset that your boobs are small.”

Your eyes take a 360-degree turn, huffing exasperatedly. “I’m not. I’m happy with the way they are.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

His firm discerning expression in the 10-second-long stare off has you heaving a long sigh in defeat. “I mean, there are times which I wish they would be just a little bigger…” You hesitantly admit, biting the inside of your lips. “So I don’t have to rely on push-up bras that much. And they would look nicer in wireless bras… Or in deep v neck cuts… Or plunge dresses…”

“Babe, they’re perfect with the way they are now.” Kuroo’s words doesn’t come out as pity or consolation; it’s filled with raw honesty and sincerity.

You glance down at the soft flesh beneath your oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Kuroo. “I know, but sometimes you can’t help but want more, right?”

“I understand, it’s natural.” He nods in acknowledgment. “But we have to be grateful with what we have, don’t we?”

A soft smile tugs the corner of his lips at the sight of your pout. “You’re right. Why did I get myself so worked up just because of one horny monkey when I have such an amazing and supportive boyfriend?” His lips curl up with a little more pride at you remembering and reusing his little remark.

“At your service, always. And ever ready to chase off any horny monkeys in sight.” He places his hands to his eyebrows as a salute dramatically, earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Question time. On the bright side, don’t you save more on bras because they require lesser fabric than bigger sizes? Less fabric, less production cost?”

“If only it were like that, Kuroo. You know what, we’re going bra shopping for our next date.”

“May I be granted the honour of choosing the fine piece of garment?” He places his hand over his right chest.

You hold onto your imaginary ruffled dress in the air, dropping into a mid-curtsy. “If I have the honourable chance to be blessed by your gracious kindness to pay for it, be my guest.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He bows curtly, giving you a flirtatious wink.

You giggle at his sappiness. “Okay my turn. Aren’t you jealous that you don’t have the chance to hold them like other boyfriends do for their busty girlfriends when their boobs swell and get sore during their periods?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s not like that’s the only time I get to touch them.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Pervert.” You gasp, covering your breasts with your arms.

The timer on your phone beeps, signaling it’s time for you to wash off your mask.

“Didn’t take you to be a boob person. Thought you were more of a butt person.” You place your phone back on the wall mounted shelf in the bathroom, turning on the tap water to run.

“I’m neither. Because I’m a you person, your person. A person that loves you as a whole, not by parts.” You swear you can see him giving you that smug grin of his with your face submerged with water, washing off the remaining residue.

“You know, maybe God deliberately blessed you with a lesser amount in this aspect.” His voice echoes through the speakers.

You reach out to your face towel hanging next to the sink and place gentle pats on your face. “And why is that?”

“Because God knew that you’d be unstoppable if you were blessed in all aspects. I mean, look at you. You’re already slaying it despite your fun-sized boobs.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva from the fits of laughter at his comment. “What the hell, Kuroo. No one calls a C cup and below fun-sized.”

“If people call those below the height of 160cm fun-sized, I don’t see why I can’t do the same with breast sizes.” He reasons with a nonchalant face.

“Fine, fun-sized boobs they are.” You give in, switching off the bathroom lights. “Your drop-dead gorgeous kick-ass girlfriend has fun-sized boobs.”

“And I love it. That’s what makes her special too.” He adds, face full-on smitten with love.

“Shut up, cheesy conman.” You chuckle softly, your face a mirror image of his.

“Well, you chose one yourself. No refunds.” The coolness of your moisturizer helps soothe the warmth blossoming across your cheeks, but not the warmth spreading throughout your chest like a cosy fireplace on a cold winter day.

【☾】

Zero and one digits flash on the top right of the screen, signalling it’s way past your bedtime. You’ve been on the phone with Kuroo for close to two hours, no wonder you feel yourself drifting to sleep each second. Kuroo senses it too, from the way your eyes twitch and lose focus.

“Alright, last question before we wrap up for today. When are you hanging out with them again?” He asks, stifling a yawn.

You let out a yawn as well, stretching your arm over your head, popping a few bones. “I don’t know, but I may skip if he’s tagging along.”

“Nope, we’re going together. Me and you.” Kuroo states matter-of-factly with droopy eyes.

You rub your eyes that has been lidded with sleep. “What if you’re busy on that day like today?”

“Then I’ll just clear my schedule for the day. Gotta show the lil boy who owns this airport.” His deep voice croaking through the speakers of your phone.

“Airport?” You question, confused at his statement, wondering if sleep has started to take over your sense of hearing.

“Airport.” He gestures at his tiddies sleepily.

“Kuroo…” Your distressed groan doesn’t stop him from his babble.

“Gotta show to him that it’s a private one too, not some public area that’s available to any common folk like him. Right, babe?”

a/n: in Chinese, there’s a saying of calling flat chested girls or girls with small boobs as 飞机场, which means airport because the airport runway is flat. so it’s like one’s chest is so flat that it can run the plane lmao. all sizes are precious, don’t get me wrong. this is purely for entertainment purposes

shoutout to @moonboohoo for being my irl Mizuki that day ily ❤️

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #hq imagines #dont worry guys im not bothered by the incident anymore #i just thought it would be funny to write about #small tiddy gang unite #and i finally have a piece thats not over 3k words omg #mini achievement unlocked 🔓

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nyctolovian · 3 years ago

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Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mikotoba Yuujin/Sherlock Holmes | Herlock Sholmes, Mikotoba Yuujin & Sherlock Holmes | Herlock Sholmes, why isn't there a platonic tag for them.... Additional Tags: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Regret, Guilt, Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Y'know, just dudes accidentally being dads.

Yuujin apparently didn't have to worry about knocking the door at 1am because he didn’t even have to wait for more than 2 seconds before the door swung open to an already chattering man. Sholmes had a frown on his face as he talked animatedly, "... checked with me! It is incredibly late. There had better be a proper reason why you would require me to open the door for you at this time. What would you do had I been asleep? You most definitely have your key with you so I don't see why you couldn't just…" He trailed off as his eyes travelled downwards to the bundle in Yuujin's arms.

A small pudgy hand stuck out from the folds of the towels. Sholmes' gaze travelled quickly from Yuujin's arms, to his face, to the large medical bag on the floor and to his hands before sighing. "Hm… I see." Wasting no time at all, he stepped aside for the exhausted Japanese man and closed the door without a single fuss.

Yuujin supposed that was the good thing about Sholmes, you didn't need to explain too much to him. And Yuujin couldn't be more grateful for this trait of his tonight; he was in no mood for explaining anything.

Cradling the infant, he sat down on his bed, which creaked under his weight. The baby made a noise as she gazed up at him with wide eyes. For a second, the blue in her eyes shifted to a familiar brown he hadn’t seen in ages, and Yuujin felt a pang in his chest. He tore his eyes away from the child and said, "I- Well, I believe it's, um, her meal time. Herlock, could you make something for her?"

Sholmes followed Yuujin's gaze to the large bag he came in with. "Where did you get it from?"

"The… The mother had it prepared at her home. And I simply… took it."

Sholmes froze mid-bend to look at Yuujin quizzically. "But that would mean…" He caught himself and shook his head.

Yuujin didn't know what conclusion Sholmes had drawn from that but knowing him, it was probably scarily close to the truth.

“It pains me to admit, my friend,” Sholmes said, holding up the bottle and the bag of baby food, “but it seems even my brilliance may have its limits when it comes to the art of making infant food without instruction.”

“Ah,” Yuujin said as he gently placed the child on the bed. “Right. Of course.” After making sure she was nicely settled, he got up with a sigh. God, how much of an old man he was behaving right now, especially when there was an eighteen-year-old around him daily as a direct comparison. He gestured for Sholmes to join him as he prepared the food, describing the process as they went along.

As he shook the bottle, Sholmes asked, “You are teaching me all this because you intend to leave her in my care, don’t you?”

Yuujin flinched. “I… Well…”

To be asked so directly… but that always was the way with Sholmes, was it not?

After taking in a deep breath, Yuujin admitted, “Truthfully, yes. I presume that Jigoku and I might be deported soon and I can’t take this child with me… I am supposed to only care for her temporarily but…” Yuujin had no idea what Genshin had meant. What on earth did he mean when he said, ‘if something should happen to me’? None of it made sense… God, his head hurt.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to focus. “Hopefully, it will not come to it but I have to prepare for the worst. I can’t put this child’s future on vague hopes.”

Sholmes looked back at the infant lying on the mattress and Yuujin recognised the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. His heart squeezed with guilt.

“I’m sorry. This is a lot to ask of you. You’re the first person I thought of but I know I… I am being incredibly selfish." He shook his head. "Please do forget it, Sholmes. I shall look for alternatives. You needn't worry yourself with this."

Before Yuujin could say another word, however, the child on the bed began to wail. He snapped into action, rushing to the child. Gently, he cradled her again and rocked her. “Are you hungry? Don’t worry. We have food,” he cooed. He gestured for the bottle and Sholmes handed it to him.

Carefully, he cocked the bottle to the infant and pressed the nipple to her lips. The crying slowed quickly and the child began to suck at the nipple. She was suckling with such ferocity that Yuujin couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable little face she was making. This baby girl was going to grow up strong, he could already tell.

He thought of the baby—ah, no… she must be 6 years old by now; no longer the baby he had left in Japan… Thinking about it made him so very tired and guilty. That made it a total of two children.

Two children whose mothers he could only watch lose their lives to childbirth, unable to do anything as he cried for hours after. Two children who would grow up without fathers because one was killed by the Professor, and the other spent every day on the brink of complete and utter resignation before he was whisked away to a foreign land. Two children he was leaving in the care of others again, because he was incapable. Two children who were supposed to be his responsibility, placed under his care, yet he had abandoned—was going to abandon—them.

What a useless man he was. He failed at being a caretaker of these children. He was meant to be a father but now it felt like a title he didn't deserve—

“Can I try?” Sholmes broke Yuujin's train of thought, voice quieter than usual.

“Ah, of course.” Yuujin shuffled closer to Sholmes, who took the bottle. The infant’s eyes widened and her lips trembled as the nipple slipped out of her mouth for a second. But Sholmes returned the bottle to the infant, who resumed her suckling with what seemed almost like increased fervour.

“Do not worry,” Sholmes said. “I’m not taking it away from you. You need not react with such sadness and worry!”

“She’s just an infant,” Yuujin chided lightly. “She wouldn’t know otherwise.”

“That's right…” Sholmes said. “Your experience of the world is not even 24 hours! There is very much for you to learn, isn't there?”

Yuujin nodded, but his chest was welling up with worry. Not even 24 hours in the world and, already, her life was looking so… bleak. What on earth was Genshin even going to do?

No, Yuujin would wait. Genshin looked like he had a plan. Surely, he was needlessly worrying.

But the next day, Yuujin heard nothing about Genshin other than the news that he had been executed. So he waited for whatever arrangements Genshin might have gotten to pull through. But days stretched to weeks before, as Yuujin had predicted, the exchange was called off officially and all Japanese students were to be deported. And Yuujin was certain that there was no more hope left.

"It's a bit sad that you still haven't got a name, isn't it?" Sholmes said, lifting the baby up. "After all this while."

The baby let out a joyful noise.

"Actually… I've been calling her little Iris for a while. I-In my head," Yuujin admitted. It hadn't felt right for the baby to be completely nameless. But it hadn't felt right to actually name her either.

"Little Iris?"

"Yes, Iris. Um… named after my… wife, Ayame. But in English," Yuujin said sheepishly. It felt silly now, but two weeks ago, as he held the child and whispered to her gently, he wondered if giving the baby the name of his dead wife might mean she'd be watching over her too. Perhaps she'd protect the child from any more tragedy and harm. Like some sort of protection charm.

Yuujin hoped it wasn’t too selfish, asking his wife to watch over two children like this.

"Iris…" Sholmes repeated. He turned to the child with a smile. "Your Papa has given you a good name, hasn't he?"

Yuujin felt his ears grow hot.

"I'm not her Papa, Sholmes," Yuujin said in a mix of exasperation and fondness, shaking his head. "I thought that much was obvious."

“You worry so much over her, you’re practically her Papa. Don’t pretend like you don’t peer into her cot almost every hour just to smile at her,” Sholmes said.

Yuujin sputtered in mortification, but he had no leg to stand on in this argument.

"Besides, as far as I'm concerned, we're Iris' fathers now," he said. "I'll be taking care of her from now on after all."

Jaw dropping, Yuujin stuttered, "You'll be… what? No, there's no need to do that. I'll search for someone else before I leave. You don't need to do this."

"It's quite alright, my friend!" Sholmes said. "I, the great detective, am clearly a natural at many things including taking care of infants. You can leave Iris in my very attentive and gentle care!"

"But that is simply too much to ask of you.” Yuujin’s heart felt heavy, dripping with guilt and distress. “I’ll try—"

"Nonsense!" Sholmes huffed. "Nothing is too much to ask of me. While I was frankly quite worried at first, time has proven that I have quite a knack for taking care of children. It will be fine."

"No, it's not right to burden you with this. I shall look for alternatives—"

"Surely, you won't be so cruel as to separate us!" Sholmes interrupted. "We get on so well after all. Like a house on fire, wouldn't you agree?" He lifted Iris to eye-level, and she gurgled excitedly.

Yuujin pursed his lips. He sure hoped this was just one of those strange English turn of phrases, rather than something literal. He had been the unfortunate witness to how "on fire" Sholmes could turn a house before.

Noticing the worry still etched upon Yuujin's face, Sholmes said in a more sombre tone, "Truthfully, that night, I was honoured to be the first person you've consulted about this. It spoke volumes of the faith you have in me. And now, I truly do wish to care for Iris… A part of me also thinks that it would be rather nice if… when you come back, you could come home to me and Iris both. And I know how much you’d worry about her back in Japan." He smiled softly at Yuujin. "What do you say, my dear partner?"

“I…” Yuujin gazed at Iris, his eyes burning with the threat of tears again. “Thank you so much, Sholmes."

#dai gyatuken saiban #dgs #the great ace attorney #tgaa #ace attorney #homumiko #angst #hurt/comfort #sorta #fanfic #herlock sholmes #sherlock holmes #yujin mikotoba #mikotoba yuujin #my writing

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constantlyunlightening · 4 years ago

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Song Bird

Day 9: Cage with Keigo Takami

Other kinks/warnings: None, I think. Pretty straight forward

I cannot explain to you why I have decided to put more emotional baggage inside of a kinktober fic??? Idk. This one is a LOT sweeter than my Enji fic and I wouldn’t even call it angst. I just don’t know how to write Hawks without putting some of that inner turmoil in him. But for the most part, this fic is a sweeter kink one.

I just wanna flirt with Keigo, you guys. He’s my pretty bird T~T

Disclaimer: 18+ only to read. All characters are aged 20+

“Pretty sure it’s the bird that’s supposed to be in the cage, Keigo,” you folded your arms above your head, resting them against the golden metal of the bars that lined the cage. Where Keigo had gotten a human sized bird cage was beyond her, but it was pretty. It reminded you of one of those antique canary cages, just a whole lot bigger. It felt sturdy too as you leaned your weight against the bars, letting your gaze meet an amused Keigo who stood on the other side, twirling the ring of a sparkly key on his finger.

“Aw, come on now, I’ve been caged my whole life. May as well let me know how it feels to be on the other side of things for once.” A snarky grin was painted onto his lips as you made a show of rolling your eyes, pushing off the bars in front of you and instead leaning on the ones behind you. It was only a step or two back. It wasn’t completely restrictive by any means but you certainly didn’t have a ton of wiggle room in here. But the opening between the bars, although not wide enough to allow you to squeeze through, were spread enough apart that you didn’t feel too claustrophobic. "You look so pretty when I know you can’t fly away from me.“

A little extreme, but you were fairly sure he was joking. Keigo had a weird sense of humor once in awhile. He usually came off as sarcastic and casual, but sometimes he’d slip a comment or two in that would just feel… odd. But you were used to it at this point and you knew that a few awkward lines or dark moments didn’t make him a bad person. And so you took the time to give him a sweet smile, reassuring him gently. “As if I would ever want to,” you mused gently and you noted the little extra bit tug upwards on the corners of his lips. “But for real, birdie. Why’d you put me in here?”

When you had gotten home today, Keigo had excitedly pulled you into your room, showing off his latest splurge. You had been a little thrown off at first but your curiosity got the best of you and you had went in closer, inspecting the door, he made a show of pretending to accidentally bump you in there. You knew it wasn’t an accident with the little “whoops” that had melted off his lips, but as he shut and locked the door behind him, it was clear he meant to get you in here. You were just trying to figure out why.

The dark chuckle he sent you in response gave you reason to believe that whatever reason it was, it was something untoward of him. You were down. That low rumble of laughter had a way of melting your core the second you caught the vibrations.

“Spice things up a little? I don’t know. Sounded fun.” He shoved the key to the door in his pocket, hiding it from view before red wings contorted behind him as he slipped them out of his jacket before tossing his coat away, letting you take the time to admire the lean form of his arms. He wasn’t nearly as built as someone like Allmight or Endeavor but you liked the more toned-out look of Hawks anyway. Wasn’t built like a wall maybe, but he wasn’t lacking muscle by any means either. “I figured you’d look cute all trapped for me. And I was right. Makes me wanna play with you.”

He was right about something else too. It did sound kind of fun. In any case, it couldn’t hurt to try it out. But you were a bit too sassy to just give your birdie what he wanted. And, besides, he strived off getting control of a situation on his own. “Better be careful how many games you try and play or I might come out of here seeking revenge. I could just try to come and eat you up,” you hummed, flirtation lacing your voice. You didn’t miss the way marigold eyes darkened at you and he practically licked his lips.

“Don’t tempt me. Now I’m almost wondering if I should have been in the cage instead.”

“It’s not too late to trade out, pretty bird.”

“I said almost.”

He was up against the bars and you before you realized it, his arm shot out through the bar and he grabbed you by the neck, tugging you up to the front of the cage and giving a small squeeze around you.. He wasn’t actually squeezing hard enough to do much more than slow your breathing a little, but the action was enough to leave you staggering with the suddenness of it. His other hand was gripped tight around the bar to keep his face from smashing up against the cage as his eyes drifted to the claw he had on your pretty throat. “You’re cute when you think you’re in charge, but I feel like making it clear who’s calling the shots today.” A tighter grip for just a second before he loosened up almost completely now just using the hold to gingerly keep you in place. You could try and move away but both of you already knew who was faster. Your heart was moving faster now but a flood of heat had already started to blister through you and you met his gaze with a huff.

“When I think I’m in charge?”

“Yeah. It’s only because I let you be,” he retorted simply, and the way he shrugged his shoulders at you almost pissed you off, but as his hand slipped away from your neck and moved slowly down your body, tracing over the contours of your body with feather touches, your emotions were preoccupied. “But still, there’s something different about you being trapped here for me. Nowhere to run.” His voice dropped to a near whisper, his hands dragging up underneath your shirt, letting his hand feel the warmth of your skin as they crawled. “I could do some really bad things to you.”

It wasn’t his usual demeanor and you were torn between being heated and being concerned as he cupped your breasts over your bra, kneading your chest in drawn out motions. In the time you had been dating him, you had figured out that Keigo’s carefree demeanor wasn’t something that was actually all that carefree. There was a lot more anxiety that swam deep under the surface and he was starting to show it to you more and more. You never pushed - you weren’t going to force his feelings out of him - but you couldn’t help but be curious about the baggage he seemed to be holding onto. And the odd lull in his voice right now made you wonder if he was showing you some of that now.

Weird time to reflect, and an even weirder time to try and help as you were being fondled but still. “You could. But you won’t,” you clarified softly as you dragged your shirt up, only to put your hand on top of his, helping him massage your chest, locking your fingers on top of his even as your back arched.

His brows raised just a fraction, you almost missed it. But the way his voice came out with a laugh next, you felt yourself ease a bit. “You sound confident. Be careful, I’m a bad, bad guy ya know?” Another squeeze, this time pushing pressure upwards, before letting go and applying the same attention to the other side.

“No, you’re not. Not to me,” you were ready with your response, as clearly as before. Whatever heavy emotions he carried, you wanted to soothe them in the ways you could. And he seemed to enjoy that response as his wings fluffed out behind him.

That odd air about him was gone now, and he flashed you a smile so predatory that your thighs clenched even as he tugged his hand away, retreating it back to his side.

“Oh, no. I’m a bad guy especially to you.”

You’d didn’t mind this kind of bad at all.

“Take your clothes off for me,” he was cooing now as he folded his arms over his chest and simply waited. You resisted the urge that came to listen. You wanted this man to wreck you, sure. But attitude came first when he was feeling cocky.

“And if I don’t-”

Before you could even finish your words, a single feather darted in between the bars and you squeaked as it nimbly sliced the fabric of your shirt and just barely missed you. “I suppose I can give you some motivation.”

“Hey, I liked this shirt!” You whined even as suddenly you found yourself obliging, the threat of his feathers ripping off your clothes making you tingle. Maybe that’d be an idea for another day when you weren’t particularly fond of your outfit - or locked in a cage.

“Told you I was a bad guy. Now strip. All the way, my cute little captive.” He continued on with a sweet hum, his eyes burning into you as you discarded your wardrobe, letting it pile up on the floor of the cage. He had your body practically memorized and yet he took it in every time like it was the first time he ever got to see you. “Absolutely gorgeous."

When you kicked your panties off of your heels, that’s when you glanced back to Keigo to see him circling his finger, indicating you to turn around with a silent gesture. You weren’t sure how he would motivate you to move if you didn’t listen this time but you didn’t find out. Instead, your body spun to face the other direction for him and he whistled a little tune at the sight of your backside. "Now you’re listening? Cute. Keep it up and I just might reward you for it.” His hand was shot through the cage again and he reached around to grab the front of your thigh and dragged your entire body back so you were backed up against the bars. “Move to your side a little. There you go, right there,” molten heat welled in his voice as he guided you to stand with your center right between two of the bars, giving him a nice view of your ass - “spread your legs” - and your dripping cunt.

He went quiet for a moment, but a rustle behind you and the sound of clinking metal filled the silence. The sound of a belt, the sound of rustling fabric, then he was behind you, with something hard slipping between your legs and gently smacking against the most needy part of your body. “If you don’t wanna fall, bend over and grab the bars in front of you. Better keep that ass pushed back over here though,” he declared as he slid his length back and forth against you, playfully dipping against your hole before sliding back forward. You bit your lip, but in the next moment, you dipped at the waist, getting a grip onto the metal as you pushed the rest of your weight back into your heels, letting the bars make indents against your backside and you gave a whine as his cock sunk into you from between the bars. “I’m about to turn my pretty girl into a song bird.”

#hawks #keigo takami #keigo x reader #bnha smut #kinktober #i love this man so much #but anyway #if all goes to plan ill be double posting today #im thinking either aizawa or shoto #idk

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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Love Story / Green Eyes 5

Read all previous parts here!

Genre: Teacher Harry, soooooo much fluff, and lots of romance.

Warnings: Mention of blood and accidentally cutting oneself with a knife at the beginning.

Word Count: 7.8k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Browse the Inspo Tag here!

Music Inspo: Love Story by Taylor Swift (click to listen to this absolute throwback)

The rolling bubbling of the pot of water fills your ears as you rhythmically chop up the small head of broccoli into bite-size pieces later that night. They make a crunching noise underneath the heavy knife as the heat from the boiling pot spreads throughout the kitchen.

“Harry, the pasta water is ready!” you call to him, looking down at the last few pieces of broccoli you have left to cut up.

“Alright, ‘mma use tha loo quick first, and then ‘ll be there t’ help,” he answers and you reply with an ‘okay’, moving the cut-up pieces aside.

*Warning: Mention of blood begins here*

Humming along to the Pink Floyd song trickling from Harry’s record player in the living room, you glance over at the boiling water, hoping it won’t splash everywhere. Unfortunately, you had continued to cut up the broccoli to have with the pasta, and felt a hot sting on your finger. Turning around, you immediately drop the knife onto the counter and notice the blood oozing from the side of your finger in shock.

“H-Harry!” you shout frantically, dashing over to the sink and turning on the tap.

“Hold on, bird!” he calls back, the sound of the toilet flushing following his words.

“Harry!” you almost yell, your breaths starting to quicken as the water whisks away the blood from your finger that burns from the invisible cut.

“What ‘s it, are ya okay?” he responds gently yet hurriedly, his voice no longer muffled from the bathroom door in between the two of you.

“I-I cut myself with the knife,” you sigh, embarrassment beginning to coat your body as you watch the scarlet run down the sink.

“‘ll be right there! I know ya don’t like blood, so jus’ breathe in and out, and don’ look if ya don’ want. Are ya runnin’ it unda cold water?” Harry says, urgency in his voice now as you hear the creaking of the floor under his footsteps.

“Y-yeah, is that what you’re supposed to do?”

“Ya, tha cold helps t’ constrict yer blood vessels t’ help stop tha bleedin’,” he assures you, placing a hand at the small of your back when he arrives in the kitchen. “‘s okay, ‘m here. Yer doin’ a good job, does it hurt?”

“Mmmhmm,” you almost whine, leaning into him briefly when he pecks your cheek.

“Good girl. ‘m gonna find a rag t’ help stop tha bleedin’, okay? Take some deep breaths, ‘s okay, birdy.”

“Okay,” you manage with a nod, glancing over to the cutting board and knife. “We should probably throw away the broccoli, I’m sorry.”

“We’ll worry ‘bout that afta we get yer finga cleaned up. There’s more broccoli in tha fridge, ‘m mo’ worried ‘bout yer finga. We can replace tha broccoli, but not yer finga, love,” he coos, rubbing his hand against your back like the motion of waving to somebody. Luckily one of you remembers the boiling water and soon you hear the click of the knob twisting to turn the burner off.

“It hurts,” you whimper, getting the dumb idea to pull it away from the water. Your eyes go wide at the sight of the crimson river flowing from your skin, hitting the silver basin of the sink.

“Birdy, don’ look at it. Put it back unda tha water, I almost gott’a rag,” Harry insists, but your eyes are only growing bigger and the bottom of the sink is growing darker with the color. “Bird, look at me. Look at me.” You listen to him and glance over to see his large eyes, watching him as he crosses the room from the other side, a tattered gray washcloth in his hand.

“Keep lookin’ at me- no, don’t look at it. I know ya don’ like blood, so don’t,” he tells you, arriving in front of you. “I want ya t’ gi’mme yer hand and ‘m gonna apply pressure t’ stop tha bleedin’, okay? I want ya t’ look at me tha whole time, not tha blood. Okay?” You nod and turn off the tap with your right hand, but you make the mistake of looking at your hands, just as you would on any other day.

“H-Harry, that’s a lot of blood. Harry,” you exclaim, words shaking as they spill from your quivering lips. He says your name but you can’t get yourself to stop looking, suddenly feeling a heaviness in your stomach arrive.

“Baby, look at me,” he murmurs, lifting your chin to look him in the eyes through the tears you didn’t know were there. “‘s okay, ‘m applyin’ pressure now. ‘m sorry if it hurts, but ‘m gonna hafta do it fer a few minutes ‘til ‘s done. Look at me, talk t’ me.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so dumb. I can’t believe I cut myself,” you blurt out, wincing at the pressure he applies and he mumbles a ‘sorry’ before alleviating some of it.

“Yer not dumb, birdy. ‘ve done it befo’, it happens t’ all o’ us. Even tha good chefs like you and me,” he replies with a small smile, pecking your nose sweetly.

“Thank you, Harry, and thanks for coming to my rescue. How bad does it look? It’s okay, I won’t look.” He breaks your eye contact and his head falls, unwrapping the cloth from your finger for only a second.

“It doesn’t look too bad, love, jus’ tha blood makes it look loads worse than it ‘s. You’ll be okay, ya won’t need any stitches I don’ think,” he responds, bringing his eyes back to yours and his other hand trails to your elbow. “C’mon le’ss go sit down, I know blood makes ya queasy.”

You nod and follow him to the small wooden table on the other side of the room where you sit down. He places your joined hands on his thigh and drags the hair away from your face with his other.

“Deep breaths, no hospital fer you t’day,” he grins, pressing a kiss to your trembling lips.

“This is why I’m not a doctor or a nurse.”

“Ya, yer a teacher, and a mighty good one at that. Keep talkin’ t’ me - what’re we doin’ t’morrow hmm, or how d’ya make homemade pasta?” he continues, making the thoughts buzz around in your head as they blossom anew. A smile graces your lips at the funny way he pronounces pasta, something you had been giving him a hard time about earlier today.

“Well tomorrow is the first day of finals, so I have Creative Writing, and a section each of World Lit and American Lit,” you explain, him nodding in front of you, dislodging the curls tucked behind his ear. “And the way you make homemade pasta is you mix together eggs, flour an-.”

“Don’t look,” he warns, lifting your chin again to bring you back to him. The heaviness in your stomach returns when you see the dots of the dark blood on the piece of cloth hiding your finger, Harry’s large ones surrounding your hand. “So what else d’ya add t’ tha eggs and flour, hmm?”

“Um, you add salt and some people add some olive oil. You can add garlic or herbs if you want to be fancy, I guess,” you continue, blowing out a long shaky breath. He nods and his cool fingers feel good against your clammy face when they tuck that rebellious strand of hair behind your ear again. “F-First, you mix the flour and salt together. I like to do it in a bowl, and you make a well in the middle where you crack the eggs. They say they should be room temperature, but sometimes I use them right out of the fridge.”

“Ya, good. Keep talkin’, honey, yer doin’ great. ‘m excited fer yer pasta, ‘m glad we have it made already, we’ll eat soon. ‘s gonna be so good in yer homemade Alfredo sauce. Keep breathin’, I know it hurts but ‘s okay, baby,” he coos, his fingers stilling on your cheek to cup it, relaxing with you a soft kiss. “Then, what d’ya do? I missed it all coz Gatsby was tryna eat me shoe.”

Amidst a laugh remembering Harry’s nervousness at the sight, your lips part again, “You take a fork and mix the eggs together in the center, and as you do it you mix in some flour. Slowly, you mix in more and more until you can’t anymore. Then you can use a spatula to combine it all together before you scoop it out onto the floured countertop. You knead it with added flour for maybe five to ten minutes until it’s come together into a ball and is smooth and no longer sticky. After that you should let it rest for fifteen to thirty minutes before you roll it out and cut it, or use one of those pasta machines.”

“Ah, I see what my birdy was doin’ in here now, lottsa hard work,” he grins, running his thumb back and forth over your warm cheek, the coolness of his rings feeling good. “Yer doin’ so good fer me. Are ya still queasy, or not so much?”

“Not so much,” you answer, continuing to stare into his eyes, which may be the only good part of this. You get to adore him and admire his handsome face all you want and without any teasing from him.

“That’s good,” he mumbles, happiness curling up his lips. Quickly, you hear the little tip-taps of Gatsby’s paws on the floor and Harry turns his head to watch him. “Hiya, pup. We’re over here. Mummy jus’ got a li’l owie, but ‘m takin’ care o’ her and she’ll be right as rain here soon.”

A smile finds its way onto your face, despite the tens of other emotions battling to have their way. Harry and you pet him a little bit while he still holds your hand firmly, pressing his thumb against your finger where the cut is. Gatsby walks off with a cloth pizza toy he found forgotten somewhere in the kitchen, despite it already being ripped in half from his monster teeth.

“Okay, ‘mma take a look and see if we’re ready fer a bandaid. Ya can stay lookin’ at me or look at tha ceilin’, bird,” Harry announces and you nod, but your eyes remain on him. They dance along his expressive eyebrows, the dimples forever there in his cheeks as he bites at his lip, and those lips that could make anything better. “Ya ‘s not so bad, and ‘s already done bleedin’. You jus’ hang tight and imma go grab a bandaid, okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, eyes following his figure as he stands up and walks over to the stove, reaching into a drawer where he pulls out the first-aid kit. “S-Should I look? Is it okay to?”

“I dunno, ‘s kinda gnarly, bird. But ya can if ya want, jus’ don’t want ya t’ get queasy on me again,” he comments, meeting your eyes with warmth tucked into the edges of his smiling lips. Sometimes you feel like you could cry with how lucky you got, watching the muscles flex in his arms as he pries open the box, and how his attention is one hundred percent devoted to you right now.

“I’m curious,” you reply and sneak a look, realizing it isn’t as bad, just as Harry said. Ugly and a little overwhelming that your body isn’t intact there, but he was right. “Maybe you should’ve been a doctor, you have a good bedside manner.”

“Erm, I dunno,” he giggles, waving you over to come and wash your hands. “It won’t hurt too much, we’re just gonna wash tha dried blood off,” he explains, turning on the tap as you glide over to him. You follow his instructions and watch the remnants of your little accident escape down the sink drain. “‘ve neva hadd’a interest in medicine or all that. I mean, I don’t mind blood, but I couldn’t see meself doin’ that. Tha bedside manner comes in handy sometimes with parents and tha like at school, tho.’”

“Yeah, you’re so good with the students. I bet that’s why they like you so much, Harry, you’re always so kind to them, you give them your undivided attention, and I’ve never heard you raise your voice.”

“Thanks, bird, that’s real kind o’ you t’ say. I hope that’s why they like me, and not coz I let ‘em eat in class or hand in late work,” he says, gently picking up your hand to lie in his. “‘m just gonna put tha bandaid on next and then we’ll be all done, and ‘ll finish tha rest o’ dinna.”

“Harry, no. I can help,” you insist, but he shakes his head in response.

“‘s okay, love, I want t’. Ya did everythin’ else, made tha pasta and sauce already. I jus’ hafta boil it and make tha broccoli, and cut up tha fruit. It shouldn’t take too long,” he explains, the sounds of unwrapping the bandage joining his words. Soon his eyes meet yours as he holds your hand up and presses a kiss to your bandaged finger. “All done, ya did so good, birdy. Now go play with Gatsby and relax, ‘ll finish dinna.”

As soon as he turns back after throwing away the trash, your arms go around his middle and your face falls against his chest. ‘Thank yous’ fly from your lips, his soft laugh joining you while his rough beard irritates your forehead.

“Welcome, birdy, nobody else ‘d ratha take care of than you,” he whispers against your ear, pulling away to look in your eyes. “Feelin’ betta, are we?”

You reply with a silent nod, using your tiptoes a little bit to give him a grateful kiss that you both smile into. ‘Grateful’ could never begin to cover how you feel about getting to call him yours.

*Warning: Mention of blood is over*

With heavy, bleary eyes you twist the handle with a yawn, soon blanketing the room in light. Apparently, today is full of firsts, because this morning you’re here before Harry and he’s left his note where you find it right away. You think that the arrangement of roses on your desk gives that away, though, along with the 12-pack box of Coke and tub of Twix candy bars. Your dread for today is washed away at the mere sight of it all, and when you read his long note, it easily knocks you off your feet. You’re grateful that you’re sitting down when you pluck it from the vase of flowers to read.

Birdy,

Good morning! If I planned everything correctly, you’ll probably have gotten to the school before me, or so you think ;) Happy 5 months, my love. I can’t believe it’s already been that long, and yet it feels longer, because of how long we’ve known the other. You claim that our anniversary is in September or October, but nah-ah it’s in August when I first kissed you, and that’s that. I won’t get too sappy in this note, because I will see you in a few minutes and also there’s a lot of room for sappy tonight when we celebrate. I just sometimes can’t believe how lucky I got with you. You subbed in my classroom for nine bloody months before we even met, and then you got the job and we teach across the hall from each other now! It couldn’t be more perfect, but Gatsby is the real icing on the cake, as is you moving in with me in just two days! Gats says that he’s more excited than I am, but I don’t believe him, because I’m far more excited. I’m also looking forward to our shared field trip today to see the Shakespeare play with both of our classes. That should be a real hoot listening to our students trying to convince us to date each other, already. It gets to me sometimes having to fake it, and I know it does for you too, so when should we tell them? Or would you rather wait? You had a good point that we’ve hid it for one semester already, so maybe we could do one more. I don’t know, I really want to see the look on their faces when we tell them before we have new students next year and the seniors graduate. Anyways, I’m running out of room here, but I just wanted to tell you how happy I am to have you as my girlfriend for the last 5 months (yes 5, because August is our anniversary, don’t even question me on this). I can’t wait to celebrate with you and Gatsby tonight, we’ll have to tell him the story of how we first met. I know I’ve been thinking about those important stories lately, like when you told me you had gotten the job, remember that one, birdy? It’s my mission to get you to like canoeing one day, or maybe kayaking. I’ll take what I can get :)

I’ll see you soon for our shared field trip day! I love you more than words could ever say.

Love,

Harry xoxoxo

With watering eyes, you laugh softly at the note with a smile adorning your lips. Slowly the memory comes back to you as the sun rises outside your window.

Although you had been to the beach a few times now with Harry during summer vacation, you still grew nervous every time. You weren’t sure if it was the intimacy of being alone with him, the warmth that came over your entire body when he took his shirt off, the looks you got from other women at the beach when they saw him with you, or the change of events for today. As you waited in your car in the parking lot, the sun baking down on you, the nerves only grew worse as you looked for his black car to pull in. Your anxiousness intensifies along with excitement at getting to see him for the first time in two weeks, seeing as summer has been busy for the both of you. You were especially looking forward to telling him some good news that the both of you had been waiting on for quite some time.

Out of nowhere, you hear loud music coming from a car that pulls into the space across from you, and sure enough it’s him. Within seconds, he turns off his car and gets out, the song a thing of the past.

“You’re always late, you know that?” you quip, leaning against your warm car.

“‘m not late,” he insists, keys jangling in his hands as he twirls them around on his finger.

“Yes, you are, Harry,” you laugh, turning your wrist so he can see your watch that he doesn’t bother to look at. “You’re always so fashionably late.”

“Oh, quiet,” he smiles, slinging a small black backpack over his shoulder clad in a cream Led Zeppelin shirt. He begins to walk ahead of you and you follow him through the parking lot, his sandals making a clapping nose against the hot tarmac.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“‘Course I do, bird. Now, c’mon,” Harry answers, waving an arm towards the beach in front of him.

Soon, you pass the building for bathrooms and where outside showers hang on the walls, little kids already under the cold spray. More cars than you expected sit in the parking lot at ten am, and so you’re surprised to find dozens of bodies laying on towels on the sand. Your focus is whisked away when Harry avoids the long expanse of warm sand, pulling you over in another direction. Quickly, the puzzle pieces come together when you find another small building and a long dock surrounded with canoes and kayaks. The walk is a little awkward as the tarmac slopes down to the water through stretches of trees and grass on this side of the development.

Not even ten minutes later, you’re both standing in front of a long red canoe with two wooden paddles laid down in the bottom. The attendee had helped you with everything else including payment, getting paddles, lifejackets, and a safety kit. Now, the last thing you have to do is get into the vessel, and luckily the man is already helping somebody else so he isn’t watching.

“C’mon, bird, what’re you waitin’ fer?” Harry giggles from beside you, tossing his backpack in to land on the dry metal floor of the canoe. You hear clicking as he fastens the buckles of his yellow life jacket, tightening the straps of it and now you’re not sure about all of this. You’d much rather be relaxing on the beach, laying beside him on your towels watching how the sun plays on his freckled back.

“W-We still have to do sunscreen,” you say quickly, masking the real reason you’re afraid to get in, although now that you’re here it may be more than one.

“Oh thanks, I forgot,” he answers, reaching forward to grab his backpack which he pulls a tube of sunscreen out of. “Here, ‘ll do ya first. Can ya move yer hair outta tha way, please?”

You nod and with a gulp, pull your hair into a makeshift bun that you hold there. Your skin already buzzes as you hear him squirt it into his hands, and then he begins to rub it along your exposed shoulders and neck. A breath hitches in your throat at the feeling of his fingers gentle along your skin, and then too soon the feeling is fleeting.

“There ya go, I got yer neck and shoulders. Will ya do mine now?” he hums and you mumble a confirmation, turning around to face him. “Here, take tha rest,” he titters, holding out his hands covered in the white goo. You laugh and slide both hands against his until he’s transferred most of the sunscreen to your hands, then turning around.

A bare tan hand swipes across his neck to hold up his short curls, exposing his sunkissed neck. Slowly, you approach him and rub circles onto the back of his neck, and then across his freckled shoulders. The lifejacket covers the rest of his back, and again you wish you were on the beach so you could get to rub the rest into his long warm back. Later, you hope silently as you finish covering the last few patches of his skin.

“There,” you announce, already rubbing the rest of the sunscreen onto your arms.

“Bloody hell, bird. Ya neva tan, d’ya?” he smirks, turning around with the bottle of sunscreen in his hands.

“No, I burn.”

“I know, I rememba tha first day we came here this summa. Poor girl, I had t’ rub aloe all ova you when we got back t’ my place,” he giggles nostalgically, and you groan at the memory. Your back and shoulders peeled for days, and it just hurt to sleep, but Harry was so sweet. He stopped at a shop just to buy aloe vera, then stuck it in the fridge because he said that’s a good trick to make it work even better. Then he bought you a little aloe vera plant that has since become a running joke between the both of you.

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, holding out your cupped hands when he nears you, squirting a big dollop of the cream into your hands.

“Where d’ya wanna go fer lunch later?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” you muse aloud, bending over to spread the white cream all over your legs until you reach the hem of your denim shorts.

“How ‘bout Hewie’s Pizza? ‘s only a few minutes away, and we haven’t been there in a while.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe I forgot about that place!” you exclaim, covering the rest of your arms.

“I know, but ‘m not eatin’ yer bloody Hawaiian pizza, ‘s gross.”

You giggle at his comment, plucking the tube of sunscreen from between his chest and bicep where he holds it.

“That’s fine, more for me then.”

“Sure, whateva ya say, bird,” he replies, standing back up now with slightly ghostly looking hairy legs. “Here, will ya do my face fer me? Y’know I hate that part.”

“Of course,” you answer, rubbing the tips of your fingers together with the cream as you stop in front of him. He lifts his chocolate brown Ray Bans and pulls them back to rest on his head, taking his curls with it.

So far, this may be your favorite part, because for some reason he hates putting sunscreen on his face. He chalks it up to getting it in his eye once, and how it feels suffocating or something. You’re not sure how it’s any better that you’re doing it, but nonetheless, him placing his trust in you makes you feel better than you’d like to admit.

He pulls his lips in between his teeth and closes his eyes as you begin to smear the

cream over his forehead. You struggle a little when you get to his beard, and the both of you laugh, but luckily he’s kept it rather thin these days. You attribute that to the hot summer you’ve both been enjoying. He’s had to have been clean shaven some days, you guess, but unfortunately you’ve yet to have had the chance to enjoy that sight.

“Why don’t you just shave it all off? It’s summer, Harry,” you pose, swiping carefully under his eyes and rubbing it in until it disappears. “Doesn’t it get too warm with it?”

“No, ‘s not that bad if I keep it trimmed all thin. ‘s a pain t’ shave all off cuz ‘s hard t’ grow back, ‘specially tha patchy parts,” he groans, grimacing when you smear it above his eyes.

“I like the patchy parts, it’s normal.”

“Ya, but they’re embarrassin’ as a guy, bird.”

“Oh,” you hum, finally returning to the difficult part of rubbing it into his scratchy beard that reaches to the edge of his jaw and even across his upper lip.

He thanks you once you’ve rubbed sunscreen into every inch of his face, and then you tackle your own after tossing him the sunscreen.

“Ready now?” he asks, zipping his backpack up, and when you open your eyes you swear he couldn’t look cuter. “What?”

“Nice hat,” you answer with a smile, watching him pull a very ‘Dad’ looking Hard Rock Cafe gray cap over his curls. Although it’s cute and dorky at the same time, you miss the curls that now only remain by his ears and at the nape of his neck. “You know, you should just shave it all off and keep the mustache.”

“Ya, no thanks. I already know ‘d look weird.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” you protest, pulling on the straps to tighten your blue life jacket. You can’t help yourself and admire his outfit today as he rummages around in his backpack for something.

“Like me outfit, birdy?” he asks, sensing your eyes on him. After returning the backpack to the bed of the canoe, he holds out his arms with a proud smile.

“Yeah, you look like a proper outdoorsy boy.”

“Good, that’s what I was goin’ fer. Jus’ not a boy, y’know a man,” he comments with a proud nod as your eyes dance along his body.

Sometimes you wonder why he does this to you, wearing such things as these short yellow swim trunks that leave very little to the imagination. On the other hand, why he can’t keep a shirt on when he’s at the beach, whether it was that day where it was raining or it was hot as the pits of hell. You wish sometimes that you could be as confident as him when you’re in his presence. From your few visits to the beach this summer, when you stripped down to just your swimsuit, he was always very kind and sometimes you sensed his eyes on you.

Pulling you from your memories, Harry’s voice comes back to you, waving you over to the canoe. “C’mon, love, let’s get a goin’,” he insists. “Ya wanna gett’in first?”

“I guess, but it’s kind of scary how much it moves.”

“‘s okay, you’ll be alright. Here, I’ll put my foot in t’ steady it. Gimme yer hand and you gett’in tha front and sit down. ‘ll be in tha back steerin’,” he tells you. He doesn’t have to ask twice for you to hold his hand, you think wistfully, stepping forward to do just that. Without a hitch, you take a seat in the front of the canoe, albeit the canoe rocking back and forth a few times from your weight and then Harry’s.

“Alright, grab yer paddle and I want ya t’ paddle once on each side. So, ya need t’ switch it up e’rytime. ‘ll take care o’ steerin’ but jus’ listen t’ what I say and we’ll be good. Alright, bird?”

“Okay,” you answer, the wood of the paddle smooth under your palms. You dip it into the water and paddle once on each side, soon pulling away from the dock with Harry’s voice in your ears.

“‘m neva goin’ canoein’ with you again,” Harry tuts with a sigh, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder.

“Neither am I, all you do is get me wet,” you reply, pulling at the hem of your t-shirt, airing it out as wet patches dot the fabric.

“Yer shit at paddlin’, that’s why.”

“Yeah, I totally did it to myself,” you scoff, trekking up the inclined tarmac and away from the canoeing dock. A few seconds later, Harry’s phone rings and he steps away to answer it. Sighing, you walk away with crossed arms, remembering how he bitched about having to do all of the paddling. At times, he was joking and although you did your best, sometimes he was serious. Then, he thought it would be funny to splash water all over you with his paddle. The both of you laughed it off, but the end of the canoe trip was tense and you knew that the both of you were disappointed. Him, especially.

With his voice escaping you the further you walk away, you soon come upon the boat landing where a long dock sits. Your eyes light up at the sight of a pair of geese swimming around the reeds hugging the shoreline. Your feet quicken when you spot the fuzzy yellow bodies of their few babies following them, and you take a seat on the end of the wooden dock to watch them. The disappointment and embarrassment from Harry’s planned canoe outing is fleeting as you admire the parent geese and their quacking babies swimming around looking for food. They had strayed away from you once you had sat down, but you remain quiet as you watch them.

“‘s ‘bout time I found you. Ah, I see why ya wandered ova here. Aren’t they jus’ gorgeous?” Harry coos as his loud footsteps shake the dock at first, then they soften when he sees the geese who back away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize gently, sliding off your other sandal to set on the dock, until all that’s left on your body are your clothes and your suit underneath. The water is warm when you dip your feet in, kicking them back and forth.

“‘s okay, I think I had my hopes too high.”

“Hey!” you argue, swatting his arm playfully when he takes a seat beside you.

“I gotta realize not e’rybody can be as good at canoein’ as me,” he teases, slinging an arm around you to pull you against his chest. You scoff at him, pitching your shoulder into his chest, but his arm stays around you as his delightful giggle surrounds you. “They take such good care o’ their babies, don’ they?” he muses, eyes flitting to the geese who have begun to swim away, one of their heads underwater searching for food.

You mumble a confirmation, flitting your eyes to Harry whose hat hair makes you smile. Thoughts about how good he always has taken care of you trickle into your mind as you now admire him. He runs a hand through his crazy curls, but his attempt to tame them is pointless. It’s even adorable how he squints at the geese, the sun shining off the water and into his bare eyes after the both of you had stuffed everything into his backpack before leaving the canoe.

“Have they called you yet?” he questions casually, eyes following the geese who quack at their young.

“Who?”

“Y’know who,” he replies, turning his head to look at you, the freckles standing out on his golden skin. His eyebrows fall as he looks back at you and then rise in a question. “Tha principal ‘bout yer interview.”

“Oh, that who,” you answer, and he nods as he waits for you to continue. For some reason, you get to your feet and reach for your sandals, the geese swimming away in the distance now. “Yeah, they called this morning.”

“And what’d they say, bird?” Harry inquires, the dock squeaking as he too gets to his feet. You can hear it in his voice, the anxiousness and also excitement for your answer.

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, sure that by now he’s thinking that your answer will be ‘no.’ He confirms that when he places a hand on your shoulder, his nickname for you falling from his lips. The second you turn around, you find his sad eyes imploring yours for the answer, but no longer can you hide your smile.

“I got the job,” you announce softly in between grinning lips. Your smile only grows at the appearance of his that paints his entire face with a declaring ‘yes!’ escaping his lips. Your surprise and elation deepen when he picks you up and swings you around in a circle.

“Ya get t’ work across tha hall from me, birdy! We get t’ be colleagues! Yes, ’m so excited,” he exclaims as you giggle into his chest, securing your arms around his neck as his sit around your waist.

“Me too, you have no idea.”

“Bet ‘m mo’ excited than you are,” he argues, finally setting you down after you complained of getting dizzy. He giggles above you, his arms still around your waist.

“I bet you aren’t.”

“Bet I am,” he disagrees, a hearty chuckle leaving his grinning lips. “I can’t wait, bird,” he muses happily, pulling you in for a hug.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven for the crappy canoe ride then?”

“Ya, I can’t be mad at you right now,” Harry answers, his straight white teeth sparkling as he looks down at you happily.

“Good. Let’s just hope we don’t get sick of each other too quickly.”

“Oh ‘m sure we will, bein’ across tha hall from eachotha. But that’s okay, cuz once we make up we’re only a few steps away from tha otha,” he decides and you nod as a finger twirls one of the curls falling against the back of his neck. “Me favourite coworker.”

“Mine too.”

“C’mon, let’s go ova t’ tha beach. I have those li’l bottles o’ wine in me bag I packed jus’ fer this. ‘ll even give ya a piggyback ride ova, bird,” he smiles, brushing his thumb across your flushed cheek.

“You’ll regret it.”

“Nah, ‘m strong,” he teases in a deep voice that makes you laugh. He pecks you on the cheek surprisingly before walking away. “But you hafta carry me bag.”

You hum an ‘okay’ as you thread your arms through it and slide your sandals on, soon walking up to where he crouches at the end of the dock. Your giggles fill the air as he carries you across the hot tarmac on his back with his arms under your knees and your arms around his neck.

The rest of your afternoon consisted of a nap or two on your towels beside the other, and one of them is interrupted when he scoops you into his arms to take you down to the water he throws you into. At one point, swimming out in the deep water by the tall buoys, Harry swims under you and sticks you on his shoulders amidst your protests. Although warm, the personal sized bottles of wine were a nice treat after your good news that kept the both of you glowing for the rest of the day. You got your wish and slathered sunscreen on him a few hours later, even down the slope of his tan back and across his multitudes of tattoos you somehow had missed. Your day was finished with a pizza and beers at Hewie’s before goodbye hugs, and you were sure this might be the best summer ever. You can’t even believe that soon you’ll have the best job ever, right across the hall from your favorite person in the world, and your new best friend.

The memory fleeting, a nervous huff leaves your lips as you rifle through your plain backpack that you had pulled from your closet for this occasion. You shove a few more things from your desk into it, trying to blink back the exhaustion that tugs at your eyes. The zipping of the backpack is the only sound you hear as you stand at your desk, the chirping of birds an absence now in the winter.

“Hiya, bird,” a voice murmurs from right behind you, causing you to jump out of your shoes. Harry’s giggle tickles your ears as his arms come around your waist. “I always love scarin’ you.”

“I can tell,” you mumble, adjusting the list of names on the clipboard. His nose brushes against your cheek as you pluck a pen from the cup on your desk, clipping it to the sheet of paper.

“Mmmm, how are ya this mornin’, bird? Only two more days ‘til I get t’ wake up t’ ya e’ryday, ‘m so excited.”

“So am I, and I’m good, just tired. How are you, babe?” you reply, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax in his strong arms.

“‘m great, cuz I get t’ spend tha entire day with me birdy, and ‘s our five month anniversary.”

“Happy five months, and do we really get to spend the entire day together?” you reply, feeling his warm lips against your cheek where he plants kisses along your skin.

“I think so. ‘s our field trip day t’day.”

“You better get all of those kisses out of your system before the students get here soon, or else it’s going to be an especially long day of faking it,” you announce, turning around in his arms and opening your eyes to find his sleepy ones.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirks, dipping to press a long kiss to your lips. You giggle into it at first before savoring the way your lips move together effortlessly.

“Yeah, get it all out before having to be around me all day without any touching,” you mumble against his plump lips.

“Shhh, yer wastin’ precious time, bird, our students will be here soon,” he whines before pressing on the back of your head, returning your lips to his.

He drags his teeth along your bottom lip as he pulls away with a smug giggle, smashing his lips against yours once more. Your hands roam across his chest and down the front of his army green quarter-zip, and then to his bum hugged by khakis. The second you saw him, you think this may be your new favorite outfit of his, and that he must do this to tease you.

“I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands off you today in that outfit,” you tease him, sliding your hands into the back pockets of his pants as he giggles.

“Yer not very innocent yerself, miss,” he concurs, dragging a finger down your spine covered in your maroon Columbia zip up. “Yer bum looks amazin’ in these pants, y’know. Jus’ beggin’ t’ be touched, love,” Harry finishes as his fingers follow his words to your ass that he squeezes firmly.

You end his words with your lips atop his, the clean citrus scent always covering him returning to you. His giggles tickle your lips when he continues to trap your bottom lip between his teeth mischievously, leaving a sting on your skin after it leaves the confines. Soon, you’re the one giggling when your hands slide under the thick yet soft fabric of his sweater, finding the smooth feeling of his cream button-up underneath that you swiftly untuck.

“Bird,” he mumbles in between hasty kisses, grabbing your attention with a quick pinch of your bottom.

“What?” you snicker nonchalantly, sneaking a hand under the freed fabric, hearing him inhale when your fingernails drag down his warm chest.

“Ya drive me crazy, y’know that?”

“It’s mutual,” you answer with a hiccup when his hand slaps your ass softly, followed by his giggling.

When you both hear the beginnings of voices trailing from down the hall, sad sighs leave your lips before he whisks them away with a deep kiss.

“Love you,” he murmurs with another peck.

“I love you too,” you answer behind loving eyes, watching him swiftly tuck his button up back into his firm fitting khakis with a shake of his head. Unsurprisingly, you even find him doing that as handsome. It must be the attraction of domesticity, or something like that. “Happy five months.”

“Yay, ya finally got it right. Happy five months, birdy,” he giggles. “How’re ya gonna hide tha flowers, hmm?”

“I don’t know, I’ll just say they were from somebody else.”

“Nah, ya should say they’re from a guy and see how yer students squirm,” Harry suggests playfully, adjusting his quarter zip as he leaves your classroom. “Thanks for the help, Y/N, I’ll see ya on tha bus soon!” he calls to you from the hallway, soon greeting a student he meets in the hallway.

The next half hour you find taking attendance and waiting to leave hard, and your impatience shines through. Many of your students are also feeling the same way, you find, and they’re showing signs of tiredness too. You only wish that you could get away with taking a little nap on the bus like you’re sure that they plan to, but alas you can’t as their teacher.

Soon, you’re stepping onto the large coach bus that both of your classes have filled. Luckily, not all of your students had gone on the field trip, and so both classes fit on the bus, but you aren’t sure where to sit. You really didn’t want to spend two hours both ways sitting by a student, and you hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“Y/N, ova here!” a voice calls to you amidst the loud conversations filling the bus. You couldn’t be happier to find who said it, and how they pat the seat next to them at the front of the bus. “Come sit by me, already.”

“I want the inside, Harry,” you respond with a grin, watching him stand up and try not to hit his head on the ceiling, letting you in.

“Oooooo, Ms. Y/N and Mr. Styles are sitting together up front!” Sabrina exclaims, and several other students echo her comment. Rolling your eyes, you plop down onto the seat against the window, listening to Harry shushing them before the driver pulls away.

“Ready fer Romeo and Juliet, love?” he mumbles to you, a smile climbing its way up his cheeks as his knee bumps into yours. You wish it could stay there, but already with the prying eyes of your many students, you know you can’t. Sometimes, this hide and seek game isn’t so much fun, you muse silently, knowing that it shows in your eyes and in his too. Surprisingly, you feel a hand on top of yours, and there’s a firm squeeze before it’s gone. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

“Shut up, you dork,” you giggle, winking at him before you turn to look out the window, watching the high school slowly shrink behind you.

“Mr. Styles is reciting Romeo and Juliet to Ms. Y/N! Ask her on a date already! Come on!”

“Would ya lot quiet down? Bloody hell, go and watch Netflix on yer phones and leave us alone,” Harry calls teasingly to the bus full of teenagers as you shake your head, nudging your foot against his. “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.”

“My Juliet,” he mouths to you, giving you a nod and your cheeks drown in a warm blush.

“Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” you whisper in response, raising your eyebrows at him, giggling when he points at his chest.

“God, would you two date already?!”

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dimercaprol · 4 years ago

Text

Some Off-Canon Stations Nonsense

Not necessarily crack, but not necessarily a scene I’ll include in Stations. NSFW for multiple kink shenanigans.

_____________________________

Loren hung back with Rabbit in the food court of the Ochre Mall in Goldenrod, watching from a distance as the others shopped for new clothes. Now back in Johto, any of them prior trapped in a half-Pokémon form now sought to blend in to the best of their abilities, and the other non-Enhanced Roses enjoyed helping them. The Ditto-Type cast the Golisopod-Type a furtive glance, observing Rabbit eyeing Dinah picking out a new outfit.

"You really like it when Dinah... absorbs moisture, don't you," the younger suggested quietly.

Rabbit stuttered and gave him a dirty look.

"Wh-- no. Wait what, why."

"I mean, I heard how you two were going at it back in Lavender. We all did. I thought at first she was embarrassed, but she likes it, too, doesn't she?"

"She loves it," Rabbit uttered a little too quickly. He bit his lower lip. "Don't tell her I said that."

"I don't intend to. But, ah. I figure, if you're using your abilities to fool around, that you have fun with the fact you can use AquaJet..."

"Why are we discussing this?" The redhead crossed his legs under the table.

"Sian caught something South of Goldenrod, and I got a kiss from it." Loren fidgeted with his platinum ring, eyeing the wire-wrapped filigree at its center. He still felt strange, knowing wearing his freucha was optional to retain his human disguise, when no one else in the group that had been Enhanced could just shapeshift. "It... I know something that I think the two of you would have a lot of fun with. I was gonna ask you first, before I even broached it with her. It'd be fun to treat you two, if you think it sounds like fun."

"You're talking about his Corsola? He let you bite it? It let you bite it?" Rabbit scrunched his nose at the thought of it. "It's Rock Type. That can't have been pleasant."

"It's also a Water Type. And why I'm bringing it up. Corsola knew a move called AquaRing. You know AquaRing, right?" Loren glanced at him with a calm playfulness.

"It's a restorative move for Water Types, envelops the user in a veil of water that slowly regenerates them. I don't... what does this have to do with Dinah?"

"I know BatonPass, but don't get to use it all that much. I could--"

"--Oh hell." Wide-eyed, Rabbit leaned over the counter to shush him. "...How long does it last?"

The Ditto-Type grinned at him.

"As long as the user--or recipient--opts into it. She can have it last however long she wants."

Rabbit glanced over to where Dinah was picking out new jeans, then back to Loren. A few times. Fluttering a breath through his nose, he sucked on his fountain soda rather than answer for some time.

"I know it's weird that I'm doing it, but besides instigating it, I'm not getting involved."

The elder brother stifled expletives under his breath, nearly regretting the impulse to consent.

"--You'd better ask her before you just--" He pantomimed throwing water on her. "She got pissed at me for 'accidentally' spilling a cup of water down her shirt a few weeks ago."

"You think she'd have more fun with it... before or after a purchase?"

"Oh, don't be mean. It might ruin her new clothes."

"I'll go ask her right now, then." Loren stood with abrupt zeal, and stuffed his hands in his pockets to stroll across the way to approach Dinah.

"Loren, I know that look a mile away," she mumbled with an eye roll, not taking her eyes off the stacks of jeans on the table where she browsed. "What are you scheming?"

"Guilty. I, ah. Have a hunch that you don't entirely dislike your WaterAbsorb ability..." He teetered on the heels of his oxfords as he waited for a reaction.

"Well, someone certainly does." She snorted, plucking out a dark-wash pair halfway down the pile. "I like that he likes it. Not that it's any of your business, really."

"No, no. Not my business. You're right. But... I still have to offer. Since we got back in Johto, I have a combo in my learnset now, that could make the WaterAbsorb... work slowly... for as long as you want."

Her head picked up, and she whipped to stare at him at length.

"You have what now."

"I feel like making the retail employees' day a little more interesting by making yours a lot more interesting. What can I say?" He bobbed on his heels again, whistling with an innocent glance to the ceiling. "You're totally free to blame it on another one of my pranks, if you need an excuse with the others. Used to it by now."

Dinah let out a low, demented chuckle and gave him a heavy-lidded grin.

"What is it?"

"You're giving me a chance to practice BatonPass," Loren winked. He flicked his left hand with a flinch, and triggered the Water Type move. A microfine shimmer of moisture enveloped his body, and he leaned to clasp her left hand in both of his. With a devious smirk, he made eye contact and gave her hand a single firm shake which dislodged the veil from himself and transferred it to her. "AquaRing feels like one of those amusement park mist arches." He shivered, rubbing his forearms. "Worth it."

She looked her hands over, brow arched.

"How long is it gonna--" Her eyes widened, her posture stiffening, as the veil shimmered iridescent for a fraction of a moment. "Ohhh hell," she mumbled, looking down to find her T-shirt and capris noticeably tighter.

Loren clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, trying not to laugh in a delirium how well the combo had worked. He tried not to stare at her as she redistributed the overall gain up to her chest.

"I'm-- I'm going to leave you to have fun with that. And remember you can shrug it off any time you want. You're in full control of how... out of control you get."

"Go bug somebody else," she shooed, scheming what all she wanted to try to fit in.

He sat down with Rabbit again and took his brother's drink from him to sip on.

"She... she said yes, didn't she," Rabbit mumbled, eyes stuck on his girlfriend. "I-- I'll be back."

Loren watched furtively in silence, kicking up his feet in the chair Rabbit had sat in. Exhibitionists.

Shakily, Rabbit selected a pinstripe pantsuit and a long-sleeve gold crop top and approached Dinah. He smiled at her sheepishly when she turned around, her breasts already heaving.

"I, ah. You drank extra water to mess with me," he played. "I was going to say, I think you'd look good in this, but I think the size I picked is totally too small."

Dinah glanced around to take note of whoever might be observing, then on cue the AquaRing triggered again, causing her entire body to ripple thicker and softer. Her capris audibly tightened, and she bit at the corner of her mouth.

"Still taking on water," she played, voice breaking. "I'm not totally sure what's going on, but--"

"--I am so absolutely entranced," he interrupted. "I don't know how it works, but you-- Try things on for me. Please."

She let out a laugh and took the outfit from him, and took it and a few of her own choices into the fitting room with Rabbit following closely behind. He sat outside, legs crossed and hands laced stiffly in his lap. The crop top was easier for her to squirm into than the pantsuit, and the side zipper argued with her curves. She just barely outpaced another tremor of water flowing into her, her middle thick enough to pucker the zipper stitches despite the fabric's stretchiness. She modeled for herself a bit and ran her hands over herself, shivering at the sloshing sensation. She had no idea how the freucha still let the Vaporeon abilities manifest, let alone how the Vaporeon abilities were affecting her human form, but she could hardly argue. To smooth everything out, she used AcidArmor to redistribute most of the water to her chest and hips. Her breasts now bigger than her head, they barely fit in the crop top, and she could feel them beginning to bulge out under her arms for lack of room elsewhere. She waited for one more wave of AquaRing to hit before she opened the door and pranced forth to show off for her boyfriend.

Rabbit couldn't believe his eyes as he inspected how impossibly she filled the outfit he'd picked out. The striped pattern of the pantsuit distended to accentuate her exaggerated measurements, and he held his breath as she put force into her step to cause her form to jostle as she walked back and forth.

"I dunno, I think it's a bit small," Dinah played, frowning innocently. "You don't think you could pick something a size bigger for me, could you? I'll try on something else while you decide."

"Hhhokay." He swallowed hard and shot up to comply as she returned to the fitting room.

Once she'd shut the door, another wave hit Dinah, and she let out a wheeze when she heard a few stitches pop. She felt herself up a little more, fingers hooked under her buttocks to jiggle them vigorously. When she tried to pull the zipper tab, it skipped teeth from the strain, and she grunted, unable to properly twist enough to get at it with both hands. Another applied AcidArmor redistributed the water weight to entirely shift to her hips, and the pantsuit practically sliced away from the abrupt engorgement. She grimaced, stunned, but her dismay didn't last long as she admired how she'd trapped her bikini-cut underwear on herself in such a way.

Grinning, she slipped out of the crop top and discarded the pantsuit pieces in the floor, then she grabbed for the pair of high-waisted jeggings, purple tank top, and lavender cardigan she'd carried into the stall with her. Once she got the tank and cardigan on, she AcidArmored most of the water to her chest, and sat down with difficulty to struggle to get the jeggings up. Unable to see over her chest, she struggled to button all seven buttons of the pants' fly, and the AquaRing shimmered once again as she endeavored to, only making it more difficult. Letting out a pleased sigh at how she overflowed her sports bra on all hems, she watched herself in the mirror as she remained seated and AcidArmored the hourglass back in place. No longer visibly muffining out of the sports bra, her thighs and buttocks thickened out tremendously beneath her.

"Hey, here," Rabbit's voice came from outside, and he slung a few garments over the top of the door.

"I'll be out in a second," she replied shakily, rising to take the items to hang up with the others.

She waited for two more waves of AquaRing to hit her before she came out for another showing. Her thighs now exceeded her shoulder span, and she had begun to take on enough water that she had to leave some of it in her face, neck, and limbs to balance it all out. Despite the high impact sports fabric, the bra couldn't even begin to contain how her curves sloshed and swayed with her exuberance. Rabbit sank into the chair, stunned static trickling faintly from his cheekbones. They both stuttered when a butt stitch popped, and after a moment Dinah could ascertain that Rabbit had flicked an AquaJet at her behind.

"I, I'm gonna go try on something else," she whispered, flushing in the face.

"I," he looked around to see if anyone was watching, and stood to follow, "I'm coming with you."

They slipped into the stall together, an increasingly tight squeeze, and Rabbit sat to observe. Another AquaRing wave hit, and she jutted her heaving buttocks into his face so he could feel of her. To tease him, she sat down in his lap in the process of AcidArmoring it all to her thighs, and she wrapped his arms around her so he could eye their reflection over her shoulder. He quickly let go to trace her massive backside, pressing both his hands and himself into it from all sides. With some difficulty, he got her to lift up just enough so he could rearrange himself, and he stuttered a moan when another wave of AquaRing hit upon her sitting back down.

"These pants aren't going to fit you for long," he whispered in her ear, kissing her neck.

"Nothing is going to fit me for long," she shot back, joining him in caressing her.

She flipped around to straddle his lap, and AcidArmored everything up top to shove her breasts in his face. The buttons of the cardigan strained and the knit fabric buckled, her engorged nipples and areolae trapped in the band of the now petite sports bra, completely filling it where once her entire breasts might have. He hit her with two more AquaJet flicks to the chest, and the bra relinquished its captives with a sloshing heave. She tried to tug down the tank top under the cardigan, but the hem was already rising up. He cupped her chest from underneath to press his face into it, and he playfully nudged the tightest button undone to tickle a finger in the gap it caused. Another wave of AquaRing struck her, and she trembled when the second-tightest button shot off.

Dinah stood to look at herself in the mirror, and AcidArmored to try to evenly balance her shape again. Another AquaRing wave shuddered through her, and suddenly everything got unbearably tight. Rabbit motioned to her and she stood still a moment, and he flicked an AquaJet straight at her crotch, further swelling it up. She clapped a hand over her mouth to contain a moan, and he did it again with a mean grin. He rose to lean down and initiate a sloppy kiss, and they made out until the ripples of AquaRing rang out in stitches all over again as the pants fell away.

Soft and chunky head to toe by this point, the tank top was the only thing of the second ensemble which barely still stayed on her, and she quietly eyed the other outfit Rabbit had brought her: a navy full-length knit pencil dress with a high collar. Giving him an imploring look, she suggested that he help her into it. She AcidArmored everything down into her hips to press him against the wall of the fitting room with her massive butt, and barely able to contain himself, he slipped it over her head and she put her arms down the sleeves. Once it was down to her belly, she AcidArmored to trickle everything up into her chest. God, he had to have picked the stretchiest garment in the store, she thought as her topheaviness toppled her back against him, and he barely caught her by cupping the undersides of her breasts. Now in the garment, she AcidArmored one more time to spread everything out, just in time for another AquaRing. She started to think about how Loren had told her she could stop at any time, but Rabbit was having trouble putting his arms around her hips or chest.

She wasn't about to stop now.

Her nipples brushed against the wall with the mirror, and neither of them could any longer see all of her in the reflection. Rabbit had already had to sit back down, the fitting room stall getting more and more pleasantly and overwhelmingly cramped.

"I don't think you-- could fit out the door at this point," Rabbit whispered over her shoulder, legs quivering under her.

"Do you want me to fit through the door?"

"Never."

The next ripple of AquaRing was too much for the bench, and it snapped out from under them, Dinah landing on top of Rabbit with a massive wobble. Rabbit drunkenly did his best to reach around her thighs and nuzzles his face against her butt, and another ripple filled her body out to hit all four walls. The dress hem, which had once brushed her ankles, now had risen above her knees.

"Was this the biggest size they had?" she teased, unable to see over her bosom to use the mirror to see any of herself.

"It just keeps going and going, doesn't it," he wheezed under her in awe. "You can't turn it off, can you."

"No," she lied, mustering just enough gyration to grind against him. Another AquaRing hit her and she could hear him mumbling, muffled by her enormity. She began to wonder if she could will it to trigger, based on the timing, and focused on it. Sure enough, another wave hit closer together than they had been. "I'm gonna break the fitting room," she moaned, faking worry.

When she could start feeling the hanger-posts on the wall start digging into her, she thought they might pop her, and she teleported just outside the fitting room stall. With her no longer in it, the stall's pressboard walls groaned with relief. Rabbit reached up in a daze to open the door and look up at her, admiring how she just barely fit in the walkway of the fitting room. She mustered another AquaRing ripple, and proceeded to squirm out into the entry of the fitting rooms, barely squeezing through the entryway to walk back out into the store. Doing the best she could, she feigned anything odd was transpiring, and continued browsing the racks in an attempt to locate anything remotely as stretchy, or anything that had remotely as much fabric coverage, as the dress she had on.

She passed by the front window and Loren spat out his drink to see how overboard she'd gone.

Noticing just how many people had started to stare, human and Rose alike, she started nudging the AquaRings closer together, so that the gains would be visible to the naked eye.

"Is there anything here in my size?" she bemoaned in exasperation, letting a series of five AquaRings trigger at once. The dress shot up to only be able to contain her bosom, and she couldn't even begin to cover her backside with just her hands.

Loren went right up to her ear, furiously concerned.

"I told you that you can stop it anytime you want. Not to kinkshame you, but you should STOP."

With a defiant burbled laugh, she forced out another three AquaRing ripples.

"I think I should leave," she spoke over him. "Nothing is fitting. Guess there's always next time!"

"Geez, Dinah. Stop. Stop before somebody gets hurt--"

"You're the one who told me to have fun," she grinned, strutting out of the store and down the walkway. Loren and Rabbit narrowly caught the same elevator as her, tucked into the back corners.

"Loren's right, Dinah," Rabbit started. "I think we've had enough fun."

"I've only just gotten started, though," she mumbled lyrically, and let out another four AquaRing ripples.

When the elevator doors opened, the brothers had to shove her to help her out.

"It's going to keep going until I tell it to stop, right, Loren?"

Loren paled.

"--As far as I know, you're the only one with the power to stop it."

"...Good."

And with that, she sat herself down in a crossway of the mall, and grabbed Rabbit to sit in her lap, queueing up a succession of more AquaRings than she could count to transpire within a sixty-second span.

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crusherthedoctor · 5 years ago

Text

The Lutrudis Hadeer Design Concept Masterpost

Every now and then, I get the occasional question about my very own Lutrudis, which I'm always gladly willing to answer. Yet for all the times I've answered such questions, it seems some folks are still a bit left in the dark as to how Trudy came to be. So I figured I could make one big post all about the creation process. Maybe not every single detail per say, but at least everything that I think is worth mentioning in a post of this sort.

I'm aware that fellow pal @benignmilitancy covered this subject herself recently, but I might as well do my part to back up what she said.

1. When did Lutrudis become an idea?

The basic idea for Lutrudis - and indeed, the setting of Viridonia and Beyond the Stars itself as a story - was thought up as early as 2014. When I say basic idea however, I really do mean it, as aside from the general concept of her being the latest Friend of the Week helping Sonic and Co fight evil on her home island, very little else about Trudy was set up, including her name and species. While some aspects of her personality were already set in stone by that point, I focused on the design first when I decided to go ahead and make her and Beyond the Stars a real thing. The idea being to use what personality traits I had in mind to create a mental image, then use that mental image to help figure out the rest of her traits, as a design can often help out with working out a personality.

So basically, I scratched my back, so that I could scratch it again. Made sense to me.

2. Why a horse? Is it because friendship is magic?

Maybe...

Actually, I wanted a species that hadn't been used before, at least in the games, its continuity being the one Beyond the Stars takes place in. But at the same time, I also wanted to go with a fairly mundane species rather than anything rare, extinct, or extravagant, as I felt that the latter would undermine the story arc that I had in mind for this particular character. Compared to the likes of Sonic, Shadow, or Blaze, Lutrudis is more akin to Amy in the sense that she's ordinary by comparison, despite her living conditions and the magical brand of ammo she eventually decides to use. To have the arc of a “normal” lady becoming a hero in her own right be represented by a T-rex or a dragon wouldn't really land the same impact in the context of this universe.

Already, I was quickly warming up to making her a horse because of this. But then I realised that many of Trudy's personality traits - her loyalty, her passion, her elegance - were ALSO commonly attributed to horses in real life. And if you're not aware, I'm a big fan of letting Sonic and Co have character tics representative of their species, and a horse in particular had plenty of potential to have some funny and cute moments by letting their horsiness show itself. This additional thought helped make my decision on the matter final.

...Well, that and I wanted Trudy to have longer hair than the average Sonic female due to how, IMO, short hair wouldn't work as well for her. Obviously horses have manes, so that made it easier to get away with than it would have if she were a hedgehog, though it also helps that Trudy's hair is never any more detailed than the rest of her, meaning her hair actually looks like her own rather than her wearing an overly detailed wig to appease a certain disgraced comic writer, one of whom I will probably have the entirety of Beyond the Stars uploaded by the time he actually does something with his echidna libido-fueled comic at this rate... Looking forward to it in 2030.

As for what kind of horse she is, I decided to go with an English Thoroughbred, if only to further justify Trudy's English accent, which is nonetheless fairly mild compared to everyone else in Viridonia, who sound as though they jumped out of a 90's Rareware title.

3. “THIS IS WHO I AM... But who am I?”

Believe it or not, but even by 2016, I still hadn't decided on what to call my little pony. I had already figured that whatever I was going to call her, it would abide by the same naming convention as Amy Rose, Miles Prower, and Ivo Robotnik, to help further add to the aforementioned notion that she's an ordinary lady who wasn't born with any superpowers. That, and because “___ the Horse” doesn't have the same ring to it as “___ the Hedgehog” or “___ the Echidna”.

So what did I do?

I looked up a list of female names for baby girls. Duh.

Well, it worked out, because I stumbled across “Lutrudis”, which was German for “strength of the village”. The more I repeated it in my head, the more it appealed to me. Sometimes, you can have various names that mean the same thing, yet one in particular will just have that perfect sound to it. That was me with this name. This horse being named Lutrudis felt right to me, even if I perfectly understood that it was perhaps a bit more exotic than your usual Sonic anthro name.

Not that it mattered too much, since I was quick to think of “Trudy” as a nickname for her, since in addition to being less of a mouthful, that name - also German in origin - had a similar meaning, “universal strength”. Fit her character and arc just as well.

So that was the first name sorted, but what about the surname? Well, when looking at a selection of appropriate words, I stumbled on “Hadeer”, and while the Arabic meaning of the name is slightly unclear - some sources say “adventurous”, others say “sound of the water falls” - I felt that the meanings associated with it were all equally appropriate regardless. Then I combined it with the first name, said the full name over and over again in my head, and thought “Yeah... this sounds correct.”

I realise the irony of a part-German, part-Arabic name being associated with an English character, but considering this is the same universe where a man who is presumably not Polish is given a Polish term for a name (Robotnik), I think we can let it slide.

4. “You guys know what EDS is, right?”

It's no secret that another friend of mine, @greenyvertekins, has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which has a lot of unfortunate complications to it, but in laymen's terms basically means your body is more fragile than that of the average person's. This condition is rather rare, so much so that a majority of people have never heard of it. Sure enough, I was one of those people, until I became friends with Verte.

After hearing Verte talk about her EDS and what she's had to go through, along with doing my own research on the condition, not only was I considerably more informed on it, but I also felt very sympathetic to not only my friend, but everyone else who has had to experience it, particularly with how ignorant other people continue to react to it due to lack of public awareness. It made me want to do something in dedication, and in the process, a certain pony eventually crossed my mind.

This wasn't done for the sake of appeasing blue checkmarks on Twitter. I genuinely wanted to help raise awareness of EDS however I could, and I considered that perhaps its inclusion in my story would help do that, so long as it didn't sacrifice everything else about the story or forget that it was still a Sonic the Hedgehog story. Yes, it's a fanfic, and thus not as well known as a Hollywood blockbuster or a bestselling novel, but if even a few people were to end up learning about EDS through Lutrudis, I would be happy.

However, I was well aware that the idea of a Sonic character having EDS might be seen as a bit jarring, and if done badly, could potentially be accidentally insulting. So I made sure to consult Verte about it, saying that I would only go through with it if she was comfortable with me doing so, and made it very clear that I would try to make its representation as tasteful and as faithful as I can, despite the inherent nature of the Sonic universe that Trudy is part of.

By the way, horses in real life can fall victim to very similar disorders, so that was yet another reason why I went with that choice.

5. “Hey Benign, I'm shite at art, please help.”

I can't remember the exact conversation that led to it, but after I talked to @benignmilitancy about Lutrudis, she offered to bring the character's design to life through her mad art skillz. Initially I was hesitant to take up the offer, since I felt guilty about having to rely on someone else to show people what my own character looks like, but I was giddily honored by the offer and decided to agree as long as she was willing. Luckily for her, she wasn't working with a blank canvas so to speak, as I had a relatively complete image in my mind regarding what Trudy would look like, having already reasoned to myself why this or that would apply.

When putting my vision into words to Benign, I mentioned that...

- Since Trudy is the same age as Rouge, logically that should mean she's given a similar mature build as the latter, as opposed to the pipe limbs you see with the other female characters. Since Trudy spends a lot of time with Amy and Cream and has a lot of motherly interactions with the latter in particular, it helps signify that she's older than them.

- Being a horse, she would have two slits for nostrils rather than the usual dot nose that most characters have. Similarly, though you don't see them most of the time anyway, her feet are grey hooves, but they abide by the usual Sonic-style feet rather than being more realistic ala Clove's hooves, if only because the latter didn't look right for this character IMO.

- To add to her gentle warmth, her eyes would be a honey shade of brown. Just like how Cream has brown eyes. Again, it's like poetry, they sort of, they rhyme. Every stanza kinda rhymes with the last one. *shrug* Hopefully it'll work.

- Since EDS tends to apply several subtle physical traits to those who have it, at least some of them should logically apply to Trudy as well. Those with EDS often have a bluish-grey tint to their sclera, and they also tend to have paler skin than most, so Trudy would have those qualities too.

- To emphasize her love for Mother Nature and all its amazing sights, and also to contrast with Amy and Cream's colour schemes, Trudy herself would be green, albeit a more gentler green rather than the brighter tones of Vector and Jet, while her clothes would be blue, with slightly different shades depending on the clothing to prevent her from looking like a drab curtain. After a few initial sketches, Benign eventually suggested that some of her clothing could be changed to brown to balance out her overall colour scheme, as well as to further add to the subtle nature motif by having brown (trees) go along with blue (water) and green (grass). Needless to say, I wholeheartedly approved of this idea, and decided that the best placement for the brown sections would be for her leggings and glove cuffs.

- Speaking of, as a nod to her equine status, she would wear leggings that could pass off as Equestrian jodhpurs. (Not that she has an aversion to wearing skirts or dresses, since she's girly and tomboyish in pretty much equal measures, compared to how Sonic females usually lean towards one or the other.)

- People with EDS are unable to wear heels since they can hurt their feet, so heels were out of the equation for this little horsie. But I also figured that regular shoes or sandals wouldn't mesh well with the rest of Trudy's clothing, so I went with boots that were flat at the heels. They can allude to her adventurous streak AND allude to how there's a lady willing to kick ass behind that quiet, mellow, introverted demeanour. Plus, much like how being stomped by a real horse's hoof would be very painful to put it mildly, so too would being stomped by this horse's boot.

- Seeing how Trudy's arms have permanent scars on them - permanent scars being another common effect of EDS - she would wear elbow-length gloves over them, since she wouldn't be comfortable with showing them publicly. Note however that she would still wear long gloves even if she didn't have those scars, since they genuinely happen to appeal to her fashion tastes as well. Covering the scars up is just a bonus. And since long gloves are often associated with royalty and high class, they're also suiting for a lady who lives in a fancy castle (despite not being royalty).

- Her hair is kept in a big bouncy ponytail, not unlike Coco Bandicoot or Shantae, since it's both cute and tomboyish... that and because the visual pun of a horse with a ponytail was too good to resist, let alone it humorously mirroring the general shape of her actual tail.

- To contrast with Sonic's spiky quills, a lot of Trudy's design is emphasized to have a round quality, such as her tail, her ponytail, and her sloped ears. To add to this design philosophy, she would wear a headscarf similar to Wave's. Me and Benign contemplated on whether Trudy's muzzle should be more blocky like that of a real horse, before we agreed that the softer muzzle fit both the round aesthetic and her general character better.

- Trudy has trouble breathing in colder temperatures, and she also has a sensitive nose that reacts strongly to heavy scents. As such, she would have a bandanna that she could cover over her mouth and nose to help out with either of those things whenever the situation called for it, or any other scenario where she deems it appropriate. It helps that a bandanna suits a horse anthro anyway.

Truth be told, I was worried that I was coming off as too demanding. But Benign assured me that giving all these details helped rather than hindered. In any case, I was more than pleased with the final result, as it was precisely spot on to what I had in my head, although even her initial sketches during the work in progress were great stuff.

6. If Amy uses a hammer, then Lutrudis uses...

Trudy has surprising arm and leg strength despite her appearance, which is mainly due to her horsie genes. But since she's still got EDS, it's still wise for her to equip herself with a weapon or two to even the odds. I contemplated a few ideas in this case, including a quarterstaff, but ultimately I decided that the following would be a little more interesting, while still remaining appropriate for the character in question.

I thought to myself “What's stopping her from having two weapons, one for short-range, the other for long-range?” I decided on the long-range weapon first: bow and arrows, the latter of which would eventually include the Ethereal Zone-powered crystals inside the cavern below her castle. Goes without saying that a bow suits her elegance and how it can be used from a stealthy distance, and the use of the crystals and their different abilities also helps to keep the reader guessing on what exactly is the nature of the elusive Ethereal Zone itself. I also reasoned that Trudy using a bow was a nice contrast to Amy's hammer, although I'm aware that Amy herself used a bow in the Fleetway comics. But no one uses a bow in the games (yet), so it's fine, right?

As for her short-range weapon, I thought it'd be funny if she had a whip that resembled a riding crop. Not only would it be used to give Eggman's robots the Simon Belmont treatment, it could also extend up to a certain distance to help grapple onto things and allow her to overcome areas that would otherwise cause complications for her body. Is it a bit ludicrous? Maybe, but so is a blue hedgehog fighting a Roosevelt lookalike. You just kind of have to live with it.

So there you have it! Everything you need to know about how Lutrudis Hadeer's name, species, design, and EDS came to be finalised. Now when you turn her into a monkey without my knowledge or permission for the sake of dunking on her because you don't approve of me making fun of Kingdom Hearts rejects, at least you'll have a better idea on what you're actually talking about. :^)

#Lutrudis Hadeer #Sonic Character Design

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years ago

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act your age: [5] Big Fun

Summary: Ash and Gizelle attend a house party for the cast and crew of the musical, and Gizelle makes some new friends while Ash walks into something unexpected.

Word Count: 2719 | [act your age masterpost]

the heathers: @brian-may-brian-may @marvelismylifffe @whoschantel @peteyparkersbabyy @cosmicsskies @somefanfic-to-love @happy-at-home @youngpastafanmug

The girl playing Heather Chandler's holding a house party the following weekend, partially as a bonding moment for the cast, but mostly because her parents are away for the weekend, and Gizelle spends a full hour finding the perfect outfit.

"You look stunning, Jellybean," her mother tells her, while Gizelle's nervously applying eyeliner in front of her mother's vanity, "just make sure to be home by ten -"

"Ten?" Gizelle splutters, eyes wide, accidentally extending her wing a little too far, "mom," she sighs, cleaning up the skewed makeup with a cotton bud, "it's a block away, and it's a Saturday."

"Eleven." Her mother concedes, and Gizelle caps her eyeliner, putting on her best puppy-dog eyes and batting her eyelashes, "midnight at the latest; I'll be waiting up for you." Her mother warns and Gizelle's lips stretch into a grin, giving a bright thanks and a promise to be home on time, before she turns back to the mirror to apply her lipgloss. With a faint and fond smile, her mother leaves her to her party preparations.

This week has been nervewracking, and she's looking forward to blowing off some steam. It seems like anyone who cares about the musical has an opinion on Gizelle being cast as the lead; of course most are more than supportive, however a few, acquaintances she had thought were better than this, feel as though they'd been snubbed. In particular, it seems the three Heathers themselves had all been hoping for Gizelle's role, and now, more than anything, they seem painfully in-character. But Gizelle was still going to the party as a show of good faith, everyone already kind of thought she was a snob, just because she was polite and well-dressed, she didn't want to give them anything to fuel that belief.

At least Lucy, the blonde girl in Year 11 who was cast as JD, seemed excited to work with her.

The house was only a block away; around the corner and across the road. Faint music could be heard even from Gizelle's house, and as she neared the corner, she can see colourful lights through the windows, and people milling about inside, indistinct shadows in a sea of rainbow. Just as Gizelle's crossing at the end of her street, however someone calls her name.

"Gizelle, right?" The girl Gizelle recognizes as Ash, from the auditions and from bursting in on her practicing, is stepping out of the house directly across from the party, wearing bright red, waist-high hot pants, with a patterned, collared shirt tucked into them, and a black denim jacket covered in patches that's far too big for her. Gizelle feels overdressed, but tries not to let it show; she nods amicably.

"And you're Ash."

"That I am," Ash agrees, grinning, hands in the pockets over her jacket. As she gets closer, Gizelle sees she's got the faintest bruising around her eye, mostly healed, but not covered despite the fact she's wearing a smattering of makeup herself, "you going to the party? I heard you scored the lead." Ash is grinning, tone supportive, but Gizelle's smile is thin-lipped.

"You and the rest of the school," Gizelle awkwardly waits for Ash to join her before they make their way across the street; despite Gizelle's less than positive demeanor, Ash persists.

"Well you totally deserve it, absolutely smashed it out of the park at callbacks," Ash is adamant, and Gizelle can't help but believe in her sincere tone. Ash hasn't been at the school long enough to form an opinion on Gizelle, that much is obvious, so when she talk to Gizelle, there's no history, no knowledge of Gizelle's family, that she has to look past. She sees Gizelle for who she is.

"You're too kind," Gizelle huffs a humble laugh, letting herself be genuine for a moment, "I saw you at the callbacks, but I didn't think you were part of the show."

"A friend of mine convinced me to help out with costumes," Ash admitted as they made their way to the house, "I think you know him; John Deacon?" Gizelle misses the sly, knowing smile Ash throws at her, trying to gauge her reaction to the name, and Gizelle's smile seemed to be the answer she was looking for.

"We work together," Gizelle nodded, still smiling a little. She knew John had agreed to do sound, he'd told her as much, but she never realised how many unexpected friends he had; first Roger, then a band, now this strange, Scottish Year 11, "has he said anything about me?" Gizelle asks, eyes going wide at the sudden realisation that if Ash knew she and John were friends, he'd probably been the one to tell her that. Finally looking at the ginger, Gizelle saw the Cheshire cat smile the girl wore at the question.

"He thinks very highly of you," is all she says, cryptically, before they're knocking on the front door. Gizelle is still trying to work out what she means when the door swings open, and Ben Hardy's answering the door, or more accurately, frowning at the lock and asking who had been the last one through. After a beat, he looks up and sees who it is, and grins brightly, gesturing the girls inside. There's two different songs playing, and Ben's quick to explain that the more hard-core musical theater kids were singing through the cast album for Heathers in the kitchen, and that Spotify's Top 50 was playing through the rest of the house's sound system.

"Do you live here?" Ash asks with only the slightest bit of confusion, and Ben snorts, shaking his head.

"Abby just has shit taste in music," he offers, and Gizelle grits her teeth at the mere mention of Abby Saunders, ex-best friend, now Heather Chandler. Why had she thought this would be a good idea? Ash and Gizelle steel themselves for the oncoming party as they follow Ben through the house to the kitchen, where Lucy was sitting on the counter, belting through a passable, if half-remembered rendition of Candy Store, while Joe, and a guy Ben identified as Rami, improvised choreography. The song came to an end, and Ben announced the girls' arrival, much to the delight of everyone else gathered.

"My girl!" Lucy announced, eyes bright as Fight For Me began, and Joe and Rami were going back and forth singing the 'holy shit' openings. Hopping off the counter, Lucy approaches Gizelle, wrapping her up in a hug, much to Gizelle's surprise. After a moment, however, Gizelle leaned into it, laughing a little, until Lucy pulled back, giving her a fond smile before she turned to the boys, "I told you, didn't I, I told them you'd get it -"

"No better choice," Rami nodded, breaking character, leaning his hip against the counter, a little breathless.

"'Zelle's scary talented," Joe agreed, taking a sip from his drink on the counter, his name written on the plastic cup in sharpie, "hey Ash, Roger's upstairs." And though he says it nonchalantly, Ash immediately turned as red as her hair. She tries to play it cool, rolls her eyes and tells him that she's not his handler, that she'll see him at some point, and Lucy elbows Joe in the ribs the moment Ash steps outside to get a drink of her own.

"You know they're not together, right?"

"Seriously?!" Joe's eyes go wide, watching where Ash had disappeared off to.

"Seriously," Lucy nods, crossing her arms, "half our art class is taking bets on when they'll finally get together though, and my week isn't for a while, so don't go about playing matchmaker," she admonishes, while Gizelle takes in the situation, bemused.

"Also because you're bad at it," Rami adds, to which Joe frowns.

"I got you two together didn't I?"

"He tried to parent-trap us into a relationship during last-year's musical," Lucy explained to Gizelle, wearing an exasperated half-smile.

"I think I remember that," Gizelle muses; it had been the talk of the school for about two weeks, and Joe had proudly taken credit for it to anyone who would listen.

"We'd been dating for a full year at that point, Rami just transferred to the school," Lucy laughed, sitting back up on the counter when Rami made space for her, the pair of them leaning into one another. After a beat of silence, Ben frowned, gaze drifting to the ceiling.

"I thought Roger was up there with Dominique."

Joe choked on his drink and Lucy made a disapproving noise under her breath, but no-one really had much else to say on the matter since Ash and Roger weren't technically together.

The night continues on apace, with Joe, Rami, and Lucy seeing fit to take Gizelle in as one of their own, the four of them quarantining themselves to the kitchen, appointing themselves guardians of the punch bowl. They don't seem to care that Gizelle's Gizelle, they laugh honestly at her jokes, she and Rami teach Joe and Ben how to Cha Cha, and they all seem impressed by how well Gizelle knows various musicals, rather than just rolling their eyes and muttering something about her dad. They make her feel welcome like she hasn't in a long time.

At about nine, Joe cries out 'It's the maestro!' And their whole group turns to see John Deacon atanding awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen like a deer in the headlights. As soon as he sees Gizelle, however, their eyes lock and immediately he seems to relax. Gizelle smiles and he smiles back.

John's wearing all blue, denim jacket and jeans and a surprisingly well fitted blue t-shirt and Gizelle realises far too late that she's checking him out. But he didn't seem to notice. Thank god.

"Look at you, Monochrome Man," Joe grins with his own appreciation, beckoning John forward into the kitchen and into their group.

"How are you pulling that off?" Rami asks with an incredulous smile.

"So eighties, I love it," Lucy agreed, all three of them seemingly not noticing the steadily rising blush on the painfully introverted John Deacon's cheeks. After a moment, John looks to Gizelle, who'd been silently appreciating his outfit, looking to her for approval, not that he'd ever admit that, though Gizelle is more than happy to provide.

"Only you could look hot in double denim, Johnny."

And she realises a moment too late the exact words that had left her mouth, but it doesn't matter; John's smile is blinding. He's quiet, but is more than happy taking the place Gizelle offers by her side, and the other three are more than happy to welcome him too. Joe vouches for him, announcing that Joe's the coolest Year 9 - 'No offence, 'Zelle.' - he's ever met. The kid's in a band for Christ sake!

This is about the time that Ash, red faced and chanting swear words under her breath, blows past all of them having just come from upstairs. They hadn't even see her head up there in the first place. The whole group goes silent, watching as she heads out the door, and bolts across the road, just as Roger, disheveled and trying to do up his pants, stumbles downstairs, also swearing.

"Ash?" He asks the now silent, wide-eyed group. They're quiet. "Where did she go?"

"What just happened?" Joe's the first to ask, trying desperately to hide his amusement. Roger's expression sours.

"None of your bloody business!"

"Roger, what the fuck?" And that's Dominique's voice from the top of the stairs, and Rami coughs to hide his laughter. Roger swears, but Gizelle points to the front door and he takes off, while Dominique calls him an asshole.

"I think she found Roger," Gizelle finally breaks the silence, and the tension, and Rami, Lucy, and Joe all fall into rapturous laughter, while John, bemused and concerned, not having heard their earlier conversation, just asks what happened. As they explain, however, John's expression falls.

Before he can comment, however, Ash storms back into the house, a can of beer in either hand, trying to contain her anger, followed by Roger.

"I said its fucking fine, Roger," Ash snapped, finally stopping in the kitchen and slamming her drinks on the counter beside Lucy, cracking one open with vigor.

"Yeah, clearly," Roger snapped, gesturing to where she was now shotgunning the beer with a scowl, "I said I was sorry." He waits for Ash to finish, and she burps loudly, already cracking the second beer.

"You have nothing to apologise for," she glowers, her tone at odds with her words, "I just came to tell you that Freddie and Oz are studying at my place, and Freds is happy to take you home later, I just didn't expect -" Ash is working up to a shout, second beer in hand.

"Ash -!" Roger tries to cut her off with a shout, but her voice rises further.

"- you to be knuckle fucking deep in Dominique Bertrand in Abby's parents' fucking bed!" And then she's drinking the second beer while the rest of the room looks at her in stunned silence. This is possibly the moat embarrassed John's ever seen Roger.

"How are you so good at that?" Joe asks finally, watching Ash drink the second beer without gagging. Ash's nose scrunches up as she drinks, and the rest wait and watch. Roger sinks to the ground, head in his hands. Once she finishes, Ash crumples up the beer can in one hand and tosses it into the trash.

"Practice, don't tell my brother," Ash deadpans, and casts a withering look to Roger, "I'm going home. Text Fred when you wanna leave." And with that, she storms off.

"She came back here just to flex on us by drinking beer, and tearing Roger to shreds," Joe marveled, "I think I'm in love."

"She's never going to speak to me again," Roger groans, head in his hands where he's sitting on the kitchen floor.

"What were you thinking?" John asked softly, genuinely concerned, coming to squat down beside Roger.

"I don't fucking know," Roger admitted, "Dom just said some stuff to me, and... I don't know, I didn't realise... I didn't think about Ash, I just... She's never going to speak me again."

"You're an idiot," Gizelle's voice is soft, but her tone isn't mean.

"He's just oblivious," Rami mused, and Roger looked up with a frown. After a beat, Lucy sighed dramatically.

"If you're this cut up about her not talking to you again," she prompted, "maybe it means..." She tried to get him to clue in, but he just frowned harder.

"Rog," John said gently, "she has feelings for you too."

And it finally clicked.

"Ash? No way," Roger was steadily turning redder, "I - I don't -"

"I'm not an idiot, Rog," John tells him, and Roger's expression scrunches up.

"You want to kiss her~" Joe cooed, and Roger almost threw his shoe at him, hollering for him to shut up. "No way, dude, every person here knows you two have a thing for each other;" Joe snorted, "if you're too thick to see it, that's on you."

"He's going to kill you during this production," Lucy mutters, but Joe just rolled his eyes at her.

"If you have feelings for her, you have to tell her," Gizelle told him sincerely, "because she might still be your friend after all this, but if you don't tell her you like her tonight, there's no way she'd ever let herself continue to crush on you."

"She's right," Rami nodded sagely. Roger actually considered Gizelle's words for a moment before getting to his feet.

"Fuck you guys," he huffed, but followed after Ash nonetheless.

"Someone should tell Dominique he's not coming back," Lucy mused with a half-smile, only to see Dominique herself appear, newly freshened up and pissed.

"I think she knows," John mused with the slightest smile. After a moment, he carefully drapes his arm across Gizelle's shoulder, bumping her hip with his. "Rog is so dense sometimes." Gizelle can feel every point of contact between them, and tries to act casual when she relaxes into him. The other three share a very knowing look.

"Yeah," Joe agrees, hiding his smile behind the lip of his cup, "he's the dense one."

#bohemian rhapsody #borhap #roger taylor #queen #the angry lizard writes #giselle x john #john deacon #john richard deacon #roger taylor imagine #john deacon imagine #act your age #heathers #heathers related #heathersrelated

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 5 years ago

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Just wear a smile - Tony’s Day

A/N: How AWESOME is the fact that @anasticklefics is celebrating the OG Avengers for an entire week in this beautiful december month?? I can barely contain my emotions and will participate - better late than never. Here is my last minute Tony Stark tickle fic, featuring Tony and Clint.

Clint was about to enter the room Tony had messaged him to join him in - after having taken a wrong turn to the wrong floor, where he had accidentally witnessed Bruce Banner practice an imaginative Jimmy Fallon interview - for his nose fracture scan. This nose of his had been broken multiple times already, but it was his first technological treatment since he had started his lifelong nosebreaking spree. JARVIS was apparently visualizing the fractured bone during that procedure to build a metal splint that Clint could later on apply to the bridge of his nose - it was supposed to offer maximum healing quality results. Natasha had already joked it would probably be like a beauty surgery for Clint whom she had never gotten to know with a pre-break-nose. The thought appealed to the archer.

Anyway, he was about to enter the room when something soft hit him in the face, accompanied by a frustrated human sound.

Clint picked the thing from his still quite sore nose and identified it as a Metal Band shirt. Black Sabbath. He knew the album covers due to Tony’s collection.

With a questioning glance did he look around the corner of the door frame only to see his teammate stand in front of a large cupboard filled with clothes. Or... well, it must have been filled with clothes once upon a time. Now? They were scattered all over the floor, piling up to hills or flattening out to landscapes of cotton. The archer cleared his throat.

Tony turned around to reveal a thoughtful, slightly hysterical expression. He smiled despite it. Oh, also he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The arc reactor in his chest was bright and fascinating and Clint had to immediately fight the urge to touch it. He was surprisingly buff. Not that Clint hadn’t expected him to be in a good shape.

“There you are.” Tony stated matter of factly and waded towards him through the sea of textiles as if that were a normal thing to do. He took the Black Sabbath shirt out of Clint’s hand, took him by the shoulder and guided him to a chair. “It’s about time. I got to get ready for a date.”

“Oh.” Clint made and nodded. He must have sounded a tad bit too insightful, because Tony stopped walking and looked at him appraisingly.

“What do you mean oh?”

Clint shrugged and sat down on the edge of the table next to the chair - it was barely visible underneath the pile of clothes on top. “Oh means oh. As in oh, you’ve got a date and now you’re freaking out. It appears more normal to me now. This mess, I mean.”

Tony’s eyes reflected frustration and fear now. His shoulders sagged down a little. “I am freaking out.”

“Yep. I figured.”

“And I don’t know how to freak back in.” “Er.. right.”

“Clint, I will gladly scan your nose and let JARVIS build a metal splint for you. But first, I really need your help.”

“Let me guess. You can’t decide what to wear?”

Tony let out a hysterical chuckle in response. Clint crossed his muscled arms in front of his chest and smirked. “Why ask me? You’ve got five other opinions available.”

“Looks like you are the one to call when someone feels a bit self-conscious.”

At that Clint actually had to give him a crooked smile.

Tony gathered up some shirts from the floor and put them on the bed nearby. He then started to hold up each of them in front of his body for a short time, explaining shortly why he believed them to be good choices, before talking himself out of the decision and disposing of the loser-shirt.

After the tenth piece of clothing dropped to the ground Clint still hadn’t said a word. He was squinting his eyes at Tony considerately and waited for his panic to subside due to his friend’s presence in the room. After shirt number 14 Clint was sure this moment of restored peace of mind wouldn’t befall Tony. He stood up from the table with a sigh and put his hands on his hips. Tony dropped the black shirt in his hands, shut his mouth and stared at Clint expectantly.

“What? Did you decide? Is one of them the perfect choice? Talk to me, Barton. Give me something to work with.”

Clint chuckled and pointed at Tony’s face. “You know what you have to wear to this obviously special date with Pepper?”

Tony wrung his hands. “Isn’t this question the reason why you’re here??”

“You have to wear a smile.”

There was a pause. Tony looked at Clint with a tense expression, his eyes showing the archer well enough that he wasn’t capable of instant relaxation. No problemo was what Hawkeye thought to that. He knew just how to cheer a person up. He didn’t have a reputation of being insufferable for nothing. Even Cap had already fallen victim to his cheer-up-attacks and he hadn’t yet been sneaky enough to get him for revenge - though he’d tried.

“This is an easy task, Tony.” Clint took a step closer to the abashed Iron Man. “Once you’re all smily and happy...” Another step closer, over a Metallica shirt. “... what’s it matter which shirt you wear?”

“Barton.” Tony took a step back when he realized how close Clint had gotten in that short span of time.

“I’m just trying to help you here.” Clint smirked and stepped over another bundle of clothes. He was ready to pounce any second now.

“Why are you following me? Clint!” In the brown eyes of the billionaire the tension was already making place for something else: anticipation. Six touch-starved idiots under one roof could make for some ... you know ... wish to be touched. It wasn’t surprising that Tony was scared of his date. Pepper was intelligent and cool and needed special attention. Tony probably was doubting his ability to make her happy. Clint knew that was bullshit, but it would take a lot to make Tony realize that. He certainly couldn’t convince him. What he could perfectly convince him of though was the need to laugh. Oh, he could make people laugh. People tended to know.

“You know.” Clint said and bent down, picking up a t-shirt at random. “I believe you could really pull of ... THIS!” Quickly and precisely he threw the shirt in Tony’s face, a face that was busy shouting by now, while Clint flung himself forward and tackled the man to the ground. They had a nice, soft landing among all the different fabrics. Clint almost started to wail though when Tony’s helpless hands hit against his nose, but he managed to swallow it and do quick work with his agile fingers.

“BARTON DON’T YOU DAHAHHAHARE!!” Tony yelled into the white shirt that was still covering his face when Clint’s hands started dancing up and down his bare upper body. He arched his back and threw his head from one side to the other trying to decide instinctively which action had priority: pulling Clint’s hands away from his ticklish spots or removing the shirt from his face. Those scribbling finger certainly tickled like hell.

“Hey, would you look at that! Blindingly white! That’s what the women like.” Cheekily Clint wormed his fingers underneath the shirt to scratch at Tony’s neck, getting an actual shriek out of the twitching man on the floor.

“STAHHAHAP!! Clihihiihihint! You- you utter ahahahahhaHAHA!!! AAHHASSHOOOLE!!!” Tony threw the shirt away, sending it flying across the room before he tried to gain control over Clint’s merciless hands. His cheeks were blushed slightly, his eyes glistening with tears of laughter and his teeth sparkling with the expanse of his smile.

“That’s way better, Tony. How could you not be the salt to her pepper dressed with a smile like that?”

Tony threw his head back in laughter when Clint managed to pin down one of his wrists to get a the really ticklish hollow under his arm. “NOHOOHOH PLEHEHEHEASE!!!”

“Does she know you’re this ticklish? She certainly has to know. This’ll make it easier for the both of you.” Clint smirked when Tony’s laughter turned silent at the ticklish treatment in his armpit. He shook his head wildly and wheezed. “OKAY OKAY!!! PLEHEHHEHEASE PLEHHEEHEASE STAHAHHAAP!! CLIIHIIHNT!!!”

“Alright, alright.” Clint let go off Tony’s wrist and sat back with his arms crossed. The poor man tried to get some air back inside his lungs, but his smile stayed on his face. He grabbed a handful of fabric and threw it at Clint as a retort. The archer didn’t even flinch.

“I feel like maybe I should continue just a few seconds longer...” Clint snarled dangerously and tweaked Tony’s sides a few times.

“Noho NOHO PLEASE. NOOO!!” Tony kicked himself out of Clint’s reach with his arms raised defenively and his stomach dancing up and down with the left-over giggles. He looked at Clint with a way calmer expression than he had minutes ago.

“Now. That’s much better. I don’t think you have to worry about anything tonight, Tony.” Clint scrambled past Tony to grab the white shirt he had hauled across the room due to tickle reflexes. “If you wear this shirt in addition to your tousled giggly look, what can go wrong?”

Tony took the shirt from Clint and smiled gratefully. “You are so annoying.”

“Always happy to help.” Clint responded with a grin.

They shared a moment of companionable silence when suddenly Tony’s smile fell. “Is that- is your nose bleeding?”

“Probably. You hit it pretty good.”

“You were tickling me.”

“It happens more often than you think.”

“... We should really make that metal splint now.”

“Probably. Do you think I will be able to feel my nose again? It’s been two years.”

“Oh, Clint.”

#avengers tickle fic week #ticklish!tony #tony stark #tickling #clint barton #tony clint #pepperony #avengers #marvel #sorry it's a hasty fanfic #i hope you will still enjoy reading

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shallwedancetogether · 5 years ago

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HEARTBEAT

Chapter Ten

The next morning Gemma woke them up bright and early. She began to pull back the curtains to the tent, “Harry! Hannah! Time to party!!” She let out a quiet gasp when she saw that Harry and Hannah were in the same bed. Harry was shirtless with his arm around Hannah’s side, so Gemma could only assume something happened last night. Luckily, she couldn’t see that Harry was only in his boxers next to Hannah in her underwear, and knowing his sister, she would’ve flipped out on the spot.

Hannah and Harry stirred in bed. “Oh gosh,” Hannah spoke. She immediately sat up. “Hey, Gemma.”

“Soooo…. You two slept in the same bed?”

Hannah’s eyes went wide at the realization of what Gemma walked in on. “Well I refused to let him sleep on the floor, as much as he insisted. He paid for a lot for me to be here so I couldn’t let him do that.”

Gemma tried to read both of their faces to see if one of them would break and say what actually happened, especially Harry since he was always truthful with his older sister. “Mhmm… Sure…” She took a short pause to see if either of the two wanted to mention anything else, her eyes scanning them. “Well, Louis just got back with breakfast so come on and eat, drink some mimosas!” She said as she turned on her heels to walk out.

Once Gemma left the tent, Harry turned to Hannah who was searching for new clothes to wear for the day. “Sorry I put my arm around you during the night, wasn’t intentional.”

Hannah giggled at Harry, “It’s quite alright. I know you enjoy a cuddle while you sleep.”

Harry blushed slightly at this. “That I do, but still, after the conversation we started last night, I’m very sorry.”

Hannah placed her hand on Harry’s bicep to console him, “You don’t need to apologize for anything, H.” Hannah chewed her bottom lip, a nervous habit. “But maybe keep what happened between us on the down low? At least ‘til we have time to actually discuss it?”

“Sure,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips as memories of their kiss last night flashed in his mind and tingled on his lips.

“Thank you. I just don’t wanna make things more complicated than they already are.” She smiled up at him.

“Though you should know, Gemma has already told at least three people what she just walked in on.”

“I figured as much, but I think that’s all they need to know for now, yeah?” Harry nodded in agreement. “I’m gonna go get ready for the day, and I’ll meet you back here soon for breakfast, ok?” She kissed his cheek and began to walk away. “Make sure to save me some food!”

Harry put on a t-shirt to go with the sweatpants he already put on. “Ayyye! There’s my man!” Louis called out to Harry as he approached the table filled with eggs and pancakes. Louis looped an arm around Harry’s shoulders as he began to grab a plate. Much more quietly this time, “So I hear you and Hannah ~cuddled~ last night.”

Harry threw his head back in annoyance. “On accident! Ugh, I knew that Gemma would say something.” He let out a big sigh. “It’s not what you think.”

“Well, tell me what to think then! Come on, bud!”

Harry eyed Louis. “Please don’t say anything else to anyone until I actually know what’s going on. I promised Han I wouldn’t say anything.”

“You have my word.” Harry trusted Louis that he’d keep what he was about to say a secret.

Harry began to fill his plate with food along with Louis who joined in next to him. “So, when we came back last night, we smoked. And we were both definitely feeling the high.” Harry paused, unsure if he should still say something about all this since he just told Hannah he wouldn’t, but he also needed to talk to somebody about this, and he knew Louis could keep his mouth shut.

Louis’ eyebrows wiggled on his forehead. “And…?”

“And…. We kissed.” Louis raised his eyebrows with a small gasp taken in, and Harry gave him a jab in his side. “Ok, we made out, and that’s all that happened. The only thing we know is that we are both seeing other people. We went to bed after I mentioned that I’m kind of still seeing Cami, agreeing to talk about it later.”

“Hm, well, it definitely sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into a very sticky situation. Also, you ‘accidentally cuddled’?”

“I must’ve started cuddling her in my sleep. It wasn’t a conscious thing.” Harry’s shoulders were partially scrunched up from stressing about this but let them sink down as he continued to talk about his thoughts. “I broke up with her over a year yet here I am still hung up on her, even initiating all this between us. She’s happy in her current relationship, and I’m fucking it all up.”

They walked away from everyone else and stood eating their breakfast so no one would hear their conversation. “How do you know she’s happy with this new guy?”

“Well she definitely expressed it when we had lunch a month ago.”

“It seems that if she was truly happy she would’ve cut you off after your concert. And a lot can happen in a month. I mean, she is here with you instead of at home with her boyfriend.”

“I’ve thought about that, but I just don’t want to get my hopes up if I’m wrong.”

As if on cue to end the conversation, Hannah walked up with a plate full of food, dressed and ready for the day. “What are you guys doing over here? Party is behind you!” She took a bite of her scrambled eggs.

Louis chimed in, seeing as Harry was thrown off and knowing he afraid she overheard them talking. “Just catching up! I was just about to tell Harry that he needs to go get ready for the day.”

Hannah chimed in in agreement. “Yes! You do! I wanna see as many performers as I can today. So, get your ass to the showers!” Louis smacked Harry on the butt, causing a giggle to leave Hannah’s lips. They both walked away from Harry as his heart fluttered at the sound of her laugh. He used this time to collect his thoughts. What the hell am I supposed to do here? Fuck. She’s so amazing, Harry thought to himself as he watched Hannah walk away. Today she was wearing two plaid pieces. Her top was a bandeau with purple plaid paired with a plaid orange skirt and some black combat boots to top it off.

Confidence was radiating off of her, and it was something she honestly hadn’t felt in a long time. She didn’t even need any alcohol to get her to feel like this, and she was happy for it. Everyone could see it around her. Harry was staring her down, watching her every move. If something bad happened between them after this weekend, he needed to remember how she looked when she was happy with him. She caught his gaze though, shooting him a daring wink that made his heart skip a beat. She was brave, flirting with him like this. They couldn’t have each other, but with every move she made, he just wanted to be right there next to her, even just to witness her actions. She captivated him, and she had no idea.

Harry walked away into their tent to get ready for the day, and even though she knew she wasn’t missing out on anything, Hannah immediately missed his presence. When they dated a year ago, she always missed his presence, but she also expected him to be gone. He was filming a movie and writing an album; she knew what she was in for. But now she knew that he was free of his responsibilities for the time being, she didn’t want to miss him for a second, especially considering she didn’t know when, or if, she would see him again.

It was weird feeling like this. She occasionally missed Ryan, especially the first few months of their relationship when they had to be separated by school, but that seemed to disappear. She felt as if she was just going through the motions. She hadn’t really been fully enjoying herself, but she knew that he was good for her. So far at least. He held her when she needed to be held. He praised her for her accomplishments, and she did the same for him. But there were those times that he talked down to her, like he was better than her, and she was not fond of that. But he was good for her. Yeah, some people thought he was controlling at times, but she needed someone to push her and motivate her. He was good for her, though he did have his downsides, just as everyone does. He’d blatantly flirt with other girls in front of her, once even while still holding Hannah’s hand. But they talked through it, and so far, it has yet to happen this summer. Unless he’s doing it behind my back. With that pushed to the past, she thought that she was happy, but there was something about being here at this music festival with Harry. She was bursting at the seams just being in Harry’s presence. No, stop that. Ryan is good for you. He’s there for you when you needed him. He’s never a continent away.

Hannah was pulled out of her thoughts as Lottie asked if she wanted a drink, forcing her to socialize instead of fantasizing about Harry. She gladly accepted and began to enjoy herself as the sun was beating down on her skin, heating up her cold body. Time really flies by when you’re having fun, and before she knew it, Harry came back out from the tent ready for the day. He walked right up behind Hannah, poking her sides to scare her, succeeding. She has always been one that scares easy, even when she knows someone is going to come around the corner she’ll jump.

A few drops spilled from her cup as she gasped at Harry’s touch. She turned around and swatted him. “You asshole! You know I hate when people do that!” By now, their entire friend group was laughing at Hannah’s dismay. Harry let out a deep laugh, putting a hand to his stomach. “You’re gonna pay for this, Styles. Just you wait.”

He smirked back at her while raising his eyebrows before he walked away, “Mhmm, yeah. Sure, I definitelybelieve you,” easily making Hannah irritated.

He came back a few moments later with a drink in his hand. As he walked up, Hannah turned to ask him to apply sunscreen to her back as she could feel her skin beginning to burn. She didn’t think much into what she had just asked Harry to do until his hands were touching her skin. Immediately, his touch sent shivers all over her body. He massaged the sunscreen into her shoulders, and it felt amazing. After applying the lotion to the top half of her back, he moved down to the exposed skin between the bottom of her bandeau and the top of her skirt. Hannah quietly moaned at his touch, not going unnoticed by Harry who now had a small smirk across his face. He rubbed the lotion into her lower back, gaining a “Oooh, that’s nice,” response from Hannah. She just might melt into the palms of his hands if he continued this way, a noticeable sense of heat rose from a very private region of hers.

On the other hand, Harry was just happy to be this close to her again. She now smelled like her flowery body mist and sunscreen, and he was not upset about it. He wished that he could stay close enough to her all time just to be able to wallow her scent. Her skin was as soft as silk, and he wanted to run his hands over every inch of her body. His thoughts began to imagine him slipping off her bandeau over her head and unzipping her skirt, but he quickly shook those thoughts out of his head as he felt his black jeans tighten. He finished applying sunscreen to Hannah’s back. “All set back here. Did you get everywhere else? You burn pretty easily.”

“Oh yes, and I’m probably going to have to apply more again later knowing my pale, Irish ass.” The two let out synchronized chuckles. “I like this shirt on you by the way.” His shirt was a see-through orange silk. It had hand drawn flowers, some with red petals and others with a deeper orange than the background of the shirt, dark green leaves attached to their stems. You could see all his tattoos perfectly, and Hannah just wanted to trace their outlines at the sight of them. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you wear it. It’s a rare occasion if Harry Styles repeats an outfit.”

“Don’t tell anyone. It’s my dirty little secret,” he said with a wink and a quick swipe of his tongue across his lips.

“I’ll be sure not to tell anyone,” Hannah said with a laugh.

Harry smiled back at her. “You also look amazing by the way. I never thought purple and orange would go together, but you’re pulling it off.”

“Why thank you, good sir.” Harry laughed at her horrible, fake English accent. “Looks like we’re kind of matching today.”

“Please, please never speak like that ever again.”

Hannah put a fake shocked expression across her face, “I sounded just like you!”

“My voice is way sexier than what you just did. Nice try.” Harry said as he walked around Hannah to put the sunscreen away.

Though she disagreed with what she was about to say, Hannah was determined to win this argument over her horrible accent. “Your voice is not sexy. Sounds like a little boy’s if you ask me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, slightly pushing up her breasts.

Harry started to speak in a very low tone as he walked back around to face his friend. The hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck stood up as he spoke. He made sure his hot breath hit her neck, “Don’t think I have forgotten how you used to tell me how much my voice turned you on when we used to lay naked between the sheets.” He caught her ear lobe between his teeth and nibbled ever so slightly, and it was enough to make that heat rise again from between her legs with a blush across her face. This set the tone for the entire day. Harry pulled away, now a safe, friendly distance away and said in a very soft voice, “I love the way a blush looks on your face.” And he walked away.

Flirtatious nothings exchanged for the remainder of the day. After that interaction, both of their feelings were heightened, and they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Harry stood behind Hannah with his arms loosely wrapped around Hannah’s neck as her dainty fingers held onto his forearms. He would fetch new bottles of water for everyone, and after handing Hannah a new one, he’d wrap an arm around her shoulder, and she’d lean her head into his chest as he pulled her closer to his tall body. She’d wrap an arm around his waist, drawing small circles on his lower back. They attempted to keep their flirtatious gestures as friendly looking as possible. Hopefully no fans or paparazzi took pictures. Occasionally between sets, everyone would sit down on the blankets the group brought over with them, and, naturally, Hannah sat next to Harry. Sometimes she sat up and ran one hand up and down his jean covered shin or thigh mindlessly while she conversed with everyone. No one said anything, but everyone noticed immediately.

***********************************************************************************

Masterlist

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izzyfandoms · 5 years ago

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Chosen - Chapter Two

(This is a Gender-Swapped Sanders Sides high school au)

SUMMARY: Logan Berry, Dee Ceite, Patricia Foster, Virginia Picani and Regina and Rena Prince are all 16-year-old high school students. They live relatively normal lives, with ordinary lessons and ordinary crushes and ordinary families, until one day a monster shows up and attacks them after class, and everything suddenly changes.

SHIPS: Moxiety, Logince, Dukeceit

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Remus, Sympathetic Deceit, swearing, minor violence mention, monsters, possession, garbage, siblings arguing, mention of being sick

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

CHOSEN TAGLIST: @coasting-on-a-wave-of-apathy

Masterpost

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

“What the fuck is going on, here?” Dee exclaimed, standing protectively with Logan in front of Rena and Regina; Virge and Pat were on the twins’ other sides.

Remy and Thomas exchanged a look, having a whole silent conversation in the space of a few moments, before the woman stepped forward. She then pulled off her leather jacket – revealing a plain white t-shirt with the word ‘SLEEP’ across the front in all caps and rather muscular arms that the girls tried not to stare at. She tossed it to the trembling Regina.

“Here, you look cold,” She said, as Rena wrapped the jacket around her sister.

Logan stepped forward. “If you two don’t tell us what’s going on, I’m going to call the police.”

Remy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah, of course you are. They’re definitely gonna believe that you were attacked by a monster possessing your teacher, and I’m definitely gonna stick around long enough to get arrested again.”

“Again?” Pat mumbled, but they all mostly ignored her.

Logan crossed her arms. “We… we know your name. Remy Starlight, right? They could find you, and you broke through the window, there’s plenty of evidence that something happened here.”

“Kid, I have friends in the police force,” Remy snorted. “Besides, I just saved your life, you’d really call the police on me? I’m offended. No one appreciates me.” Thomas patted her back, coughing and wincing at his obviously sore throat.

Dee put a reassuring hand on Logan’s shoulder. “We’re not going to call the police,” She said. “We just want to know what’s going on.”

“And we’re going to tell you,” Thomas added reassuringly, his voice still hoarse from coughing up gallons of… whatever that monster was made of. “It’s just a long story.”

“Is it though?” Remy took off her sunglasses, cleaning them with her shirt. “I mean, okay,” She turned to the girls, serious. “There’s four types of monsters: creatures, possessors, puppeteers and seers. Everyone has different names for them, that’s just what my family calls them. Creatures are what they sound like. Possessors possess people. Puppeteers possess people and can also control other people. Seers possess people and get visions of the future that are shared with anyone they’re touching. They all like to bite people, infect them and then eat them. Pure human blood kills them.”

The girls didn’t know how to react to that.

Remy turned back to Thomas. “See, that wasn’t hard. Now we just have to explain the weird prophecy thing and be done with it. Simple. I should do this for a living.”

Thomas sighed. “You have no sense of dramatic tension, Rem.”

“Who cares about dramatic tension?” Virge suddenly exclaimed. “This could be an elaborate scheme to kidnap us, why are we listening to them?”

“You think they faked the possession thing?” Pat asked, blinking up at her girlfriend. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“I- I don’t know!” Virge exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “But we can’t just trust them!”

Remy crossed her arms. “Uh, I just saved, like, all of your lives. I think I’ve earned a little trust.”

“First, you can explain that prophecy thing you mentioned.” Dee stepped between her friends and Remy. “Forget the ‘dramatic tension,’ Mr Sanders, just tell us what’s going on, and then we can decide whether or not to trust you two.”

“Ugh, fine.” Remy sighed in irritation, rolling her eyes under her sunglasses. “About a century ago, one of my ancestors was fighting one of those seer monsters – that’s kinda what we do, we fight monsters, it’s pretty cool – and they accidentally shared a vision with one. It was basically prophesised that every sixteen years, between April 21st and April 27th, some kids would be born whose blood would have the potential to kill the mother of all monsters, the Queen. There’s a few more details than that, but that’s pretty much the gist of it. Thomas was one of these kids, he failed, and you six are this generation of potential chosen ones.”

The teenagers stared at her in shock.

“Is it set in stone?” Dee asked, the first to speak up.

Remy blinked a few times in confusion. “What?”

“Is it that one of us could be the chosen one, it just depends on our actions, or is it set in stone that a specific person is destined to be the chosen one, you just don’t know exactly who.”

“Oh…” Remy nodded in understanding. “Someone specific is fated to be the chosen one, we just don’t know who specifically.”

Dee nodded slowly as Logan adjusted her glasses, staring Remy down. “How do you know?”

“What?”

Logan sighed in slight irritation. “How do you know that the six of us specifically are this generation of potential chosen ones?”

“Well, the vision also included the helpful details of general location, general age and the fact that each of those kids would have at least one biological parent who’d been possessed before. Those things only applied to the six of you this time ‘round, which is why I’m here.”

Regina and Rena both looked rather excited at this, exchanging a look of wonder, as expected from them. Patton also looked slightly in awe, but Virge, Logan and Dee all looked a lot more suspicious and unsure than anything else.

“How are we supposed to believe you?” Virge asked, a little harshly.

At the same time, Dee said, “And you expect us to risk our lives and fight monsters for you? We could fucking die.”

Logan just stared, her brow creased.

“I’m- we’re all chosen ones!” Regina exclaimed, the horror of the near-death experience overtaken by the prospect of adventure. “That’s… that’s amazing! We’ve gotta do this.”

Logan glanced back at her, giving her a look that was half ‘you’re an idiot’ and half ‘I want you to be my idiot.’ Her expression then shifted back to a thoughtful one.

“Yeah!” Remy grinned, ignoring Virge and Dee’s protests. “Any of you could be the chosen one. Your blood could kill the Queen of monsters. She’s the only one of them that can lay eggs and have kids, so once she’s out of the picture, it won’t take long to end the monster race for good.”

“Woah!”

Logan gasped suddenly. “I have an idea. You said we’d each have a biological parent who’d been possessed once before, correct?” Remy nodded slowly. “Well, do you know which ones?”

“Yeah, my family keeps track of that kind of shit, I’ve got the files saved on my phone.”

Logan nodded, looking around at the others. “Well, then we can just ask our parents. If they can confirm Remy’s story, then maybe, maybe, we can go along with this whole ‘chosen one’ thing.”

Remy smirked slightly, pulling her phone from her pocket. She tapped at it a few times, one-handed, before glancing back up again.

“’Kay, so, we’ve got files on all six of you, ‘cos of the whole ‘possible chosen ones’ thing. The only two parents still alive or in the picture who’ve been possessed before are Nathalie Berry and Octavia Ceite.”

Logan and Dee straightened up, exchanging a glance.

“My mom’s at work right now.” Dee said. “We’d have to wait until later to ask her.”

Logan adjusted her glasses. “I could call my mom now; she had the day off today.” She pulled out her phone and began dialling the number. “I’ll go into the hallway so as to not be interrupted.”

Thomas straightened up. “I’ll come with you; can’t let you get attacked the second you leave the classroom.” He said that last part in a humorous tone of voice that didn’t really suit the situation, and followed Logan out of the room.

“Yell if you need anything!” Remy shouted after them, before turning back to the five other girls.

Dee crossed her arms, staring back at her expectedly.

“So…” Remy awkwardly scratching her arm. “You girls wanna see the reward my family plans on giving to the chosen one after the Queen dies? I stole it from them to show you guys as extra motivation.”

Regina’s eyes lit up. “Ooh… what is it?” Rena and Patricia looked almost equally excited.

Virge and Dee watched warily as Remy took her jacket back from Regina, reaching into the secret pocket sewn into the inside, and pulling out a golden chain necklace with a large black crystal at the front.

“This gem was formed from the blood of the Queen over a century ago. It was the last time she was seen by humans, and the only time anyone was ever able to injure her. My family was the one to do that, of course. We’re cool.”

“It’s so pretty…” Rena stared wide-eyed, more entranced at the monster blood aspect than anything else.

“Yeah,” Regina agreed.

Virge rolled her eyes as Dee and Pat also looked it over appreciatively. The purple-haired girl’s loyalty was not so easily bought.

“Can I touch it?” Rena asked, and Remy shrugged, tossing it to her.

“Sure, I’ll need it back at some point, though, or I’ll be in deep shit with my parents.”

Rena clutched it tightly, looking it over. “It would look amazing with my outfit. The black’s totally my aesthetic. Can you make gems with human blood? That’d suit you better, Regina.”

Regina blew a raspberry, reaching over and snatching the necklace from her sister. “Uh, no, the gold would totally suit me better. Besides, I’m totally gonna be the chosen one. You guys know that, right?”

Virge and Dee sighed in unison as Patricia tried in vain to stop the twins from arguing. Remy just watched in amusement.

They started pulling the necklace to-and-fro, arguing about who it’d suit best. Pat tried to argue that they were identical twins, equally beautiful, but that didn’t stop them. She would have attempted consulting Virge and Dee, but Virge was too neutral to care, and Dee was too biased towards Rena to make a positive impact.

“Give it back!” Regina exclaimed. “It’ll suit me more!”

“You know what really would suit you more?” Rena hissed. “A slit throat.”

Regina gasped loudly, releasing the necklace in shock – though she really shouldn’t have been surprised – and causing it to fling too quickly for Rena to keep a hold of, slipping through the broken window, out of sight.

There was silence for a few seconds, before Rena and Regina turned guiltily to Remy, who burst out laughing.

“You girls are a riot.” She sauntered over to the broken window, leaning through and looking down.

The five teenagers followed, peering around and over her shoulders, their noses wrinkling when they spotted what was right below the window sill – a large open dumpster bin. They couldn’t even see the necklace; it was so full of multi-coloured garbage.

Then, Logan and Thomas walked in, pausing and raising their eyebrows when they spotted everyone crowded around the window.

“My mom confirmed their story, apparently my other mother knows about it, too, and they’ve spoken to your mother about her own possession multiple times in the past, Dee. She says we can trust them.” Logan confirmed, and Thomas nodded. “What are you all doing crowded around the window? Have you figured out what to tell the school faculty about that? I suggest claiming it was a break in, possibly vandalism.”

“No, uh…” Remy glanced at the other girls, who all shrugged, before turning back to give Thomas a sheepish look. “I may have borrowed my family’s chosen one necklace, and we may have accidentally dropped it out of the window… into a dumpster.”

Thomas blinked a few times in surprise, before sighing, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Well, I guess we’re going dumpster diving, then.”

***

A few minutes later, the eight of them had left the building, and were now below the window they’d previously peered out of, staring at the large reeking dumpster in front of them. Most of them didn’t look too happy to be there.

Logan stared up the wall, brow creased. “How did you even climb up there, Remy? There aren’t any ladders.”

Remy smirked, stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets. “I’m just that awesome.”

They turned back to the dumpster.

“So, uh…” Thomas glanced around. “Who volunteers to climb inside?”

“Ooh, ooh! Pick me!” Rena exclaimed, jumping up and down in the spot, her hand in the air like she was still in class. “I’ve wanted to do this my whole life, please let me climb inside!”

Everyone stared at her, but only the two adults looked surprised.

“Uh, knock yourself out, kid.” Remy stepped out of the way, and Rena grinned, moving closer to the dumpster and looking it over.

She glanced back at her sister. “Little help, Regina?”

Regina wrinkled her nose in disgust, moving even further back. “I refuse to touch that thing, and you are absolutely taking a shower as soon as you get home. You are not entering our bedroom reeking of expired cafeteria meat.”

“But that’s my favourite kind!” Rena exclaimed, and no one could tell whether or not she was joking.

Dee stepped forward. “I’ll help you up.” She volunteered, blushing lightly when Rena beamed gratefully at her.

“Excellent.” Rena rolled up the sleeves of her denim jacket, and Dee helped her climb inside of the dumpster.

Everyone but Rena gagged at the squelching sound her boots made when she landed inside, and she knelt down to search properly.

“Woah, there’s tons of stuff in here!” She grinned. “You could definitely hide a body in here, or, like, three bodies worth of organs, at least, and no one would even notice. It reeks so bad it’d hide even the stench of death!” Rena said that last part like it was a good thing, bending further down, out of sight, to properly search the dumpster.

Remy leant closer to Pat, whispering loud enough that everyone could hear her. “Is she always like this?”

“Oh, uh, yep!” Patricia said cheerfully, though she didn’t really seem too thrilled. “She’s actually pretty tame, right now.”

Virge snorted, her hands in her hoodie pockets. “You can say that again. One time, last year, she ate a ton of rotting food, straight from the trash, just because someone dared her too. She got super sick, and I’m pretty sure her dad almost sued the school. She’s calmed down a little since then, behaviour-wise.”

Remy whistled, almost impressed. “Damn, that’s actually almost impressive, but I think I would’ve puked if I’d seen it.”

“Oh, people did.” Logan confirmed, adjusting her glasses. “It happened in the middle of the cafeteria and seven-point-five people threw up.”

“Seven-point-five?”

“It’s complicated.”

Thomas furrowed his brow in concern, glancing at Regina. “She’s gonna make herself sick, what do your parents think about all of this?”

Rena’s head popped up again. “I’ve built up an immunity to this kinda stuff. Besides, it’s fun to freak people out.” She lifted up an old shoe. “Does anyone dare me to take a bite out of this?”

“Please, don’t.”

Rena pouted, tossing the shoe back over her shoulder.

“It’s strange that you haven’t found the necklace yet.” Logan pointed out. “Surely it would have been at the top.”

“Oh, it was.” Rena pulled out the necklace. “I saw it before I’d even climbed in, but I was having so much fun.”

She then straightened up and hopped out of the dumpster, grinning widely, as everyone moved out of the way. Dee stepped forward, wrinkling her nose as she flicked a banana peel off of Rena’s shoulder.

Remy took the necklace back from Rena, looking it over quickly, before stuffing it back into her jacket pocket. “Thank god, there’s not a scratch on it. My parents would kill me if it was broken.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stolen it from them in the first place.” Thomas said, and Remy gave him a pointed look.

“If you tell them, I’ll never forgive you.”

“When would I get the chance to tell them?”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you coming to dinner tonight? It’s Thursday, right?”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Wait, shoot, it’s already Thursday? I thought it was Tuesday!” He looked around at the girls for confirmation.

“Mr Sanders, you literally wrote the date on the board at the start of the lesson.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was planning on spending the night marking homework, it needs to be handed back tomorrow. Guess I’m not sleeping at all tonight.”

***

A few hours had passed, and the six girls had returned back to their respective homes. Regina had finally forced her sister to take a shower – though the main reason Rena had protested so much was because it got on Regina’s nerves. Their dad would be getting home from work at the local theatre soon, and they were trying to figure out how best to tell him about the situation.

“Do you think he’ll believe us if we just straight-up tell him?” Regina asked, glancing back at her sister, before turning around quickly upon realising that Rena still hadn’t gotten dressed. “Please, put some clothes on, it’s been half an hour.”

“But they’re so restrictive!” Rena said, but she gave in and pulled on her pyjamas – an old neon green t-shirt and bright red shorts.

Regina looked her over again. “You look like Christmas threw up on you.”

“Thanks, that was the intention.” Rena flopped down on her sister’s bed – their room was split on two, a desk and a bed on either side; Rena’s half was the one by the door. “But do you really think dad’s gonna believe us? I mean, it’s not like we’ve got any proof. Do we really need to tell him?”

“Hmm,” Regina hummed in thought. “I guess not.” She turned and grinned at her sister. “So, which of us do you think’s gonna be the chosen one? I bet it’s me.”

Rena scoffed. “Nah, I bet it’s gonna be Pat or Virge, it’s always the one you least expect.”

“Psh…” Regina dismissed the thought. “Don’t get me wrong, I love those guys, but they don’t have it in them.” She lay dramatically across her sister’s lap, grinning up at her. “I’m gonna be the chosen one, kill the Queen of monsters and get the girl.”

“And I’m gonna be the zany side character slash main character’s best friend who also gets the girl in the end!”

“Absolutely, my dear sidekick.”

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reeree1500 · 5 years ago

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His Aphrodisiac...Part 2 Vampire Ivar! x Reader

Disclaimer: Smut 😏(an attempt), spelling and grammar mistakes😬 and my cliched imagination🤣Thank you for all the love and support💕☺️

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @oceans-daughter-3 @camatsuru @youbloodymadgenius @calum-hoodwinked-me @wuxiesalt @supernaturalvikingwhore @readsalot73 @affection-rabbit @blonddnamedhandz @paintballkid711 @ivarthethiccness @limbo-limbo-limbo @funmadnessandbadassvikings

Weeks had gone by after our steamy session in Ivar’s office. I still couldn’t process the fact that he was a vampire. That ancient tale of a monster who sought nothing but blood was true. However, he had proved otherwise. Ivar didn't seem like the type of person to go around sucking people’s blood just because he felt like it. No, he was the type that when I had a problem he would make it disappear. Like Johnathan, my ex-fiancee who wouldn't stop harassing me. As soon as Ivar had found out about him, he never showed up again. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air. Of course I was relieved at the time, but now I cant help but think about if Ivar had anything to do with it...

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it was the night of the annual Lothbrok Corp dinner. Only a select few people from the office were to attend as many of our sister branches would also send their representatives. Not to mind the fact that the founders of Lothbrok corp would all be there as well, with their friends and family. This year the dinner had been set to occur at Ivar’s mansion upstate. This included a secluded area where the next house wouldnt be in sight for miles. Ivar was a man of privacy and now I could understand why. The dinner was to start in an hour and I had yet to finish my makeup. I wasn't really one to amazing at it, but I knew what would compliment my (y/s/t) complexion. As I finish applying my mascara, I take one last look in the mirror before heading out to the kitchen to find my phone and call an Uber. Taking my coat in one hand and juggling my keys, phone and purse in the other. I manage to somehow lock the door, but not before I’m met with a pair of electric blue eyes. “I..Ivar. W...What are you doing here?” I manage to say through my shock.

“You haven't returned any of my calls or messages since that night (y/n). I wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but I was genuinely worried about you.” He trails off as he says the last part whilst avoiding my gaze. “Ive just had a lot on my mind, Ivar. Im sorry.” I say looking anywhere except his eyes, knowing full well the effect they had on me. In a flash Ivar stepped away from the limousine, took my coat and placed it on his arm and grabbed my hand dragging me towards it. “Ivar what are you doing my Uber’s here.” “I gave him 100 bucks and sent it away. You're coming with me.” He whispers the last part close to my ear before shoving me inside the limo. His tone of voice wasn't all the way warm, it had hints of his icy personality in them and made it hard to breathe for me.

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The car ride was awkward and filled with lots of tension. Ivar tried multiple times to start a conversation with me, but I paid him no mind. I sat as far away as possible from him, I could swear that there were times where I thought that I would fall out the door. His hands would “accidentally” (as he said) wander all over my legs, tracing patterns and ever so often trailing even higher. It took everything in me to ignore his advances, and he knew very well the effects his touch had on me. His mere touch created a pool of wetness down there and the bastard knew it. Before his hand could go any further, the view of a great mansion surrounded by nothing but trees caught my eye. “Woah, that's huge.” I said as I looked out the window. “And its all yours (y/n), if you’d just have me.” Ivar says as he turns my head and stares into my (e/c) eyes. Getting lost in his electric blue orbs I lose all sense of why I was upset at him. It’s as if it’s only us two and the whole world disappeared when I look at him. Before either one of us could act upon our feelings once again, we’re interrupted by the driver as he pulls up in front of the house. “Oh for fucks sake! Someone is always interrupting us!” Ivar screams out, startling me a little as his eyes began to glow. His sudden outburst made me want to run away, but also made me feel as if I should have calmed him down. Ivar turns to me and he just stares, no sudden movements or words just a blank stare. In seconds Ivar is out of the car and opening the door for me. If I hadnt known that he was a vampire I could've sworn that it had all been a fix of my imagination and that he truly wasnt there.

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As Ivar led from the limo inside the mansion, I couldnt help but admire the artwork and intricate design of his house. It was something truly unexpected from him. Once inside the ballroom Ivar had disappeared, I guess to greet everyone and say hello to his family. Whom I know he hasn't seen for the longest time. I however, am very overwhelmed and I think it may have to do with the fact that everybody’s eyes are on me. I don't do very well in public scenarios like this one and all the attention is making me a little sick. There was security all over the place and although intimidating I knew that I had to find a washroom as quickly as possible, so I could lock myself in there all night. The bodyguard didn't even speak, he just pointed towards the stairs and went back to acting as if I wasnt there. Shrugging it off I make my way up the stairs only to find a corridor with an exceptional amount of doors. Internally cursing myself I make my way down and knock on every door, but they're all locked. I almost gave up until I saw the double doors on the right. Obviously this couldn't be bathroom, but at this point I didn't care, I just had to find a place to stay till it was time to go.

As I opened the double doors Im greeted by an awfully dark lit room, with intricate black designs. The cravings on the bed posts and the paintings around are those of ancient nordic runes, something that led me to believe that this might have been Ivar’s room. I knew of his great admiration foe his background, he loved anything that had to do with nordic beliefs and ancient gods. Making may way inside Im transfixed by all the artwork and details around me that I fail to acknowledge the presence that lies in the corner of the room. “So, I seem you've made yourself acquainted with my room already, (y/n)” Ivar says as he walks out of the shadows with his crutches? “Oh my God, Ivar are you okay? I literally left you for less than an hour and you've already gone an injured yourself! Wait, I dont mean to sound like a bitch/ignorant or anything, but why do you have crutches? Aren't like vampires supposed to be like physically invincible?” I said all in one breath, as Ivar just cocked his head to the side and stared at me. “You honestly believe everything that the media tells you, dont you?” Point taken, all I knew about vampires were form shows, movies and books that were then turned into movies or shows. “Anyway, before I became a vampire, I was actually a viking. Hence all the nordic runes everywhere and the massive tattoo on my chest and back. My family was very rich and my father Ragnar was king. However, unlike my siblings I was born without function in my legs. Which is why I use those metal braces in the corner over there while I'm in public, and these only around people I trust.” He says moving closer to me. “Now, tell me as to what drew you to come in to my room without me, (Y/n).” Ivar says as he draws my name longer than he has to, in a very sensual tone that makes my knees tremble.

“(y/n), give in. Dont fight it, we were meant to be. You're the reason I can finally feel alive. If it weren't for you, I probably would've kept roaming this world with no sense of purpose. I know you feel this connection. So once again , will you let me take care of you?” And in that moment all senses had been thrown out the window.

Ivar closed the gap with his hot mouth against yours. You gasped as you felt the heat spiral through you, as you ran your fingers through his soft locks. Throwing the crutches to the side Ivar manages to pick you up the hips and deepens the kiss. The sensual dance between your tongue and his is soon over as you cave in to his dominance and let his explore your mouth, slowly with deliberate movements. “Ahhhh...” A moan escapes your lips as his lips move down to your neck. “Since I saw you in that dress earlier tonight, it took everything in me to not act on impulse.” Making his way to the bed, Ivar lays you gently on the back satin sheets and holds himself up as his roam over your body in admiration. Ivar then looks at you for permission as his fingers begin unlacing and unzipping your dress. As Ivar kisses along to every spot that is unveiled to him, goosebumps begin to raise along your skin. You had longed for this moment for awhile, but had denied yourself of the pleasure due to your fear. Oh how stupid could I have been you thought to yourself as you relish in the pleasure that this man brought you every time he kissed and caressed you. “You're so beautiful...” Ivar says as he touches you with reverent fingers, as he begins caressing that part of your body that is not very often explored.

His fingers begin tracing the inside of my hips as his head dips down to my flower. Ivar takes my clit into his mouth and gently bites it, bringing a pleasure that I cannot describe. My hips buck up to him on their own accord asking for more. But he holds me down and brings his face up to mine. His intense gaze had distracted me for a second as his ministrations towards my clit were over. But before I could beg him and ask him for more, it was as fi Ivar had already beat me to it. In a flash he had dipped and curled 2 of his massive fingers into my hole. Pumping them in at an alarmingly fast rate. “I..Ivar, that feels so good!” I manage to say through my moans that are increasingly louder as I throw my head back from all this pleasure. Ivar’s pace becomes steady and his lips are now focused on my right breast, kissing and caressing it as if it were his favourite thing in the world. My hands uncurl form the sheets and move towards his head caressing it and then bringing it up so that I could kiss him. This time I wanted to show him that I too cared for him. And all that fear had been washed away, this man had been everything to me the minute I started working for him and Would be damned if I let him get away. Vampire or not!

Bringing him in for a kiss Ivar tries to take control and dominate again, but this time I would be in control. I manage to shock Ivar with the lack of submission that he’s used to seeing from me. I use this to my advantage and flip us over. Trying to not hurt him in the process. I break apart our kiss and stare deeply into his eyes as our heave breaths begin to entangle with each other and become one. I slowly remove his fingers from my hole, much to his dismay. And before he could protest I place my finger to his lips. “You've shown me how much you care for me. Time and time again Ivar. Let me show you that I care too.” At this his eyes hold admiration, surprise, and hints uncertainty. Making my way down his body, I leave trail of kisses form his chest all the way down to his legs. Taking my time kissing every part of them and staring into his eyes with love and tenderness, which he mirrors in his gaze towards me. I then make my way up to his long and already hard cock. Oozing with loads of precum. Licking the excess I take as much as I can into my mouth as I wrap my hangs around the base his very thick and long shaft. Pumping and bobbing my head I can feel and hear Ivar’s pleasure. His hands wrap around my (h/l)(h/c) hair and his hips thrust forward. I can see that he is reaching his high and before I could make him cum, he pulls out of my mouth. “I’d like to cum inside you, if you'd let me (y/n)” He says as his hands pull my face into a heated kiss.

Climbing on top of him I go to position myself on his member. However, Ivar flips us around so that he is the one on top. I could only look at him in shock for a second before my eyes roll back as I feel him thrust into me with one swift movement. My hands wrap around his torso, and claw at his back from the overwhelming sense of pleasure. Our moans become a melody to my ears, but soon I can feel myself reaching that high. “Ivar.....Im gonna” “I know baby, me too.” And just like that with a few more of his powerful thrusts Ivar and I reach our edge. Ivar and I stare into each others eyes with admiration and love. My hands without thought brush the strands from his hair away from his sweaty face. “Dont leave me ever again (y/n), I mean it. Those weeks that went by were probably the hardest of my life.” He breathes out as he caresses my face and body so gently, as if he were thinking that I would just vanish right there. “I would never think of leaving you again, ever. Im your aphrodisiac after all. What would you do without me?” And without a care in the world we lied in each others arms whilst the party roared downstairs, and the host nowhere to be found.

#vikings #vikings history channel #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings ivar #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #reader x ivar #one shot #vikings smut #vikings fluff

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canyouhearthelight · 6 years ago

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The Miys, ch. 37

I was running late to work this morning, so I didn't have time to queue this chapter. Instead of uploading it super late in the day (7pm EDT), I made a judgement call to pull the copy that I emailed my lovely sister @parisconstantine to proof - which she approved - but that means there is no break.

08/10/2020 Edit: Added a break! and links.

Once Conor had sufficiently transformed me into a fuzzy purple burrito, I glanced around my quarters with a weak smile. Sure enough, Antoine and my sister put a fierce limit on my welcome-back ‘party’. I saw only them, Conor, Sam, and Derek. Knowing that Simon and Noah were likely watching and listening remotely, it was the perfect amount of people for me to handle at the moment.

Antoine returned my smile gently as he handed me a server of tea. “No caffeine and no alcohol until you finish your medications,” he explained somewhat apologetically. His shrug suddenly turned into a wince as he backed away, one hand flying to his temple with a hiss. After taking a step forward, he shook his head energetically and blinked a few times. “I need to calibrate this more,” he muttered.

Tyche tsked at him. “That’s what you get for deciding to be your own guinea pig,” she replied airily before tilting her head toward me. “He’s working on a project to help the autistic population on the ship. It’s… in the experimental stages. He should explain, though.”

“It’s going to be marv,” Conor gushed quietly.

I glanced at Antoine. “So, what’s the project? I’m all ears.”

He chuckled somewhat ruefully. “It actually will fall partially under your purview if I am able to work out the – bugs?” When I nodded, he continued. “During the sabotage attempt on the ship, Conor and I were needed to retrieve Derek and escort him to Level One. There was simply no other way for him to arrive without being overwhelmed by so many people in close proximity. Since then, it occurred to me: What if there was a way for Derek to travel around the ship, even during such times that the corridors are crowded, without need for an escort? It would give him much more autonomy than he has had in the past.”

“The idea came from your Council pendant, partially – when we headed to Level One, your pendant gave off a low tone, in theory a proximity alert to let everyone know to let you through. However, it did not work, and we now know that was due to not everyone being able to hear it in all the panic, yes? We do have a way to hear things over exterior noises, though.” He tapped his temple. “The translators. Even in the loudest room on the ship, for example, you would still be able to perfectly hear the translation of Derek’s sign language provided you were looking at him.” I nodded, but was honestly still confused.

“The ultimate goal of the project is to combine the technology we already have, and give Derek – and all autistics on the ship – the ability to interact on their own terms,” Antoine explained, crouching down. “Using the datasets and our translators, the first aim is audio and visual dampening. No more too-loud noises, no more unpleasant lights or colors. They will be able to adjust both the audio input from the translators and hopefully visual input, right from their dataset. Secondly, proximity alerts – but mostly not for them. Instead, anyone who approaches too closely will receive an alert to their dataset first, and then a loud alarm transmitted directly to their translator.” He tapped his temple again. “I thought it was only fair that I be the test subject for the alarm, and I’m working on calibrating it. When I backed away from you after delivering your tea, I backed too closely to Sam, who agreed to be my co-tester.”

“That’s brilliant,” I breathed, wide-eyed. “But you said the proximity alerts are ‘mostly’ not for Sam. So he still receives some of it?”

Antoine looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was in the process of a beautiful and intricate piece of knotwork. “Sam? When do you receive an alert?”

“If I’m not paying attention and I’m about to walk into someone. It’s just a chime, though,” he answered nonchalantly, not looking up from what he was doing.

“So really, it’s only to keep you from accidentally touching someone if you don’t want to?” I asked.

“Yep. Works good. I didn’t walk into anyone today.”

“And the software can tell the difference?”

The question was directed at Antoine, but Derek was the one who answered. <Locational sensors in the corridors tell us who is the one moving and causing the proximity.>

“So, the people who need the software the most are not being punished?”

“I just wanted to make sure,” I chuckled, letting the silly nickname go unremarked. “Antoine, really. This is brilliant. And it’s going to help a lot of people, not just those on the spectrum. There are a lot of people on the ship who have PTSD-related touch issues. Or just flat out inherent aversions.”

He nodded. “Correct. Grey was able to corroborate in their data that the autistic-spectrum population on the ship has the most stringent requirements and need, however, so that is where the focus is. If I can calibrate it to work for them, everything else is just a matter of adjustment.”

“Okay, okay,” Tyche shifted next to me and gathered our attention. “As proud as I am of this project, especially how far it has come in such a short time, there are a few other things we need to talk about if you’re good with it, Soph?”

“Depends on what it is,” I hesitated.

“Timeline for getting you back to work,” she clarified. “It’s going to be a slow hand-off, and don’t even think of trying to take on more than you’re ready for or I will sedate you myself.” She arched an eyebrow at me and I just held my hands up in defeat. “Your primary focus is going to selecting a new assistant. I’ve been helping Simon, but there is only so much I can do to help and still be able to manage staffing. Right now, each of the department heads is handling as much of that as they can, but they still need me for day-to-day questions like who is currently available.”

I groaned. “Can’t you just find one for me?”

“No, I can’t. I don’t have time, like I said. Simon refuses to, because he is the one who originally hired Arantxa.”

“If I have to select them myself, I want a list vetted by Xiomara and Derek.” I glanced over. “Derek, is that okay with you? Dig up all the dirt you can on every single person Xiomara okays?”

“I want to know if they don’t bathe regularly, do they kick pets, did they not thank a vendor, everything.”

<I can do that> he confirmed with a pretty vicious amount of glee.

“Good,” I nodded, turning back to my sister. “I’m not leaving anything to chance. I know none of us want to admit it, but Arantxa had one thing dead to rights – I am entirely too trusting. Derek and Xiomara? Not so much. I’ll make the final call, but I’m going into this with eyes wide open. No more surprises. Hell, I don’t care if I even like the person. If they can do the job and I can trust them, I can make it work.”

“Sophie, come on – “

“No, Conor. I almost died, and the entire Ark almost paid the price for mine and Simon’s poor judgement. This may be an extreme reaction, looking at it from the outside, but the people on this ship need to know that I’m not making the same mistakes again.”

“But they just watched you stand in the Council Chamber and talk about the best of humanity. Now, you’re going to move forward with suspicion?” This time, it was my sister.

“I also, quite clearly, said that one of our best traits is that we learn from our mistakes. I can believe in the best of people without being stupid about it, and they need to see that. It doesn’t just mean trusting blindly – it can also mean seeing something in a person no one likes, or who everyone underestimates, or who no one thought could do the job. We also persevere, which is exactly what I’m going to do,” I finished quietly.

As Conor squeezed my shoulder, Tyche nodded in reluctant acceptance. “Okay, in that case, we need to make a list of what you are looking for in a new assistant. And you can’t put 'not a Baconist' on that list, because it pretty much guarantees everyone who applies will secretly be one, no matter what Miys says.” She shot me a look. “So, seriously. You need to have criteria to weed out who we even pass on to Xio and Derek.”

I hummed in thought, leaning my head back against Conor’s arm. “Well, there’s the obvious stuff – organized, at least somewhat familiar with who handles what on the Ark, moderate computer skills. They can’t be shy, either. In fact, I would prefer someone stubborn: I have a hard-enough time saying ‘no’ to people, so I need someone who can put their foot down both on my behalf and to me. Willingness to learn is also non-negotiable.”

My sister nodded, transcribing all this to her datapad and flicking a copy over to Antoine and Derek. “Okay, and what are the absolute deal-breakers?”

“Mindless conformity, in any direction,” I responded immediately. “I’ve known too many people who were so counter-culture that they though they were open-minded, but they were just narrow-minded in the opposite direction. At the same time, discrimination is absolutely not to be tolerated – there are only so many of us left, and we need to get the fuck along. Don’t get me wrong, if they disagree with me, that’s fine, but they have to be able to listen and consider other viewpoints. What I’m talking about is people who make judgement calls based on things that people can’t help or change, and refuse to listen to any opinion counter to their own.”

“Like Xiomara,” Tyche ventured hesitantly.

I shook my head vigorously. “Xio has her faults, but even when she realizes she doesn’t understand, she relents and goes with the flow. She at least leaves herself open to the possibility of understanding later. Something like that wouldn’t be a complete no-go. But the situation with Maverick and eating? If the person is the type who would flat out ignore my request, they can’t be my administrator. I have to fight enough uphill battles with the Council, I cannot waste time fighting with my administrator.” I took a deep breath. “Beyond that, hero-worshipers, victim-blamers, and victim-worshipers are right out.”

“Victim-worshipers?” Conor asked in confusion. “What are those?”

Before Tyche or I could answer, Antoine let out a loud groan. “Sometimes they are the worst types of people, my friend. You know what victim-blaming is, correct?” Conor nodded, leaning forward out of curiosity. Antoine continued, “Victim-worshipers are the complete opposite. They create this idealized, innocent, unrealistic ideal of a person who has been a victim of actions taken against them. Using Sophia as an example, these people would construct their entire idea of Sophia around her being a victim first, even before being human, or female, much less her being competent at her job. Instead, she is A Victim, and everything else about her supports her ‘victimness’. She isn’t a person to them anymore.”

Tyche nodded in agreement and continued where her partner had left off. “Depending on the person they are attaching themselves to, yeah – victim worshipers can sometimes be worse than victim blamers. At least the people who blame a victim grant the person a sense of agency, acknowledging that they are a person who can make decisions. They’re still scum, don’t get me wrong, but they wouldn’t take away the fact that Sophia is a person, who is capable of decisions. Victim blamers try to eliminate their own ability to decide and put that burden on the person who was attacked – victim worshippers don’t even let us decide what we wear each day.”

Conor started snapping his fingers, looking around as he grasped at something. “The whore-thing… about women… what is it? I’ve heard about this. Dammit, what is it….”

Derek clapped to get our attention before explaining. <Madonna-Whore complex> he supplied helpfully.

“YES!” Conor shouted, pointing at him. “Thank you, Derek. That! So ‘blamers’ are on the ‘whore’ end, and ‘worshipers’ are on the ‘Madonna’ end, and the focus of their judgement can’t win, right?”

Tyche, Antoine, and I gaped at Conor in astonishment. Slowly, Antoine began to nod. “Yes. That’s what we were trying to explain…”

“Dumb lug my ass,” Tyche muttered, glancing at me.

Conor just squeezed my shoulder again, showing he wasn’t offended. “In that case, I completely agree. Sophie isn’t a hero, or a victim, she’s just… Sophie. She shouldn’t have to work with someone who can’t understand or appreciate that there are much more important things about her than what happened on Level One.”

“Like what?” I asked, teasing.

“Like the fact that, if you recover properly, you can cook like a fiend again, which I am looking forward to.” His stomach grumbled to punctuate the comment, instantly breaking any tension in the room.

This is exactly the housewarming I needed, I mused as I giggled at Conor’s never-ending hunger.

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#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #apocalypse #fiction #my writing #scifi #original fiction

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