#(but at the same time this bastard has been fascinating me so I guess him getting his own headcanons is inevitable)

[ikkaku-of-heart]

Hawkins Sex and Sexuality Headcanon(s)

Before Hawkins decided to attempt to seduce and manipulate Ikkaku, he never had much interest in sex. He’d had it a few times, mostly out of curiosity, but it hadn’t been something he’d really been invested in. He’d seen men be reduced to panting, mindless dogs over just a glimpse of tits and ass and refused to debase himself so. He is a man of control. Part of the reason he relies on his tarot cards so is because knowing the future puts him in control. But when he began planning to draw Ikkaku to his side, he realized sex would absolutely be a necessity for the plan.

However, sex became far more pleasurable for him once he started sleeping with Ikkaku because he realized sex = power and control. In his mind, Ikkaku is something akin to a goddess that he intends to steal divinity from, and yet she lays beneath him in bed. He enjoys how his touch can leave her moaning and writing beneath him. He relishes being able to bring Ikkaku to orgasm or deny it. The understanding he’s gained of her kinks and body and desires gives him a sense of power over her he hadn’t anticipated. He can dominate and cause her extreme pleasure in so many ways, or he can have his submissive lover down on her knees to pleasure him. When she’s being a feisty brat in the bedroom, he loves putting her in her place – it actually turns him on more than Ikkaku being totally submissive, because it’s a reminder of how he can overpower her at any time. Even when they have sex in the bath, where he is basically powerless and Ikkaku tops, he is able to justify it in his mind because he gave her that control, and it was all for the sake of gaining her trust. To manipulate her further so he will have more power overall.

The size difference between him and Ikkaku also helps. He enjoys how much taller and bigger he is. How he can cage her in against a wall and loom over her, how he can so easily pull her into his lap and keep her there even if she squirms, how his hands are large enough to wrap around her waist or throat or cover her tattoo with his palm. He especially likes the feeling of her cunt, lips, and throat stretched around his large cock, considering how it’s a good 8in long and decently girthy.

Basically, when it comes to sex, Hawkins gets off on the power and control as much as the physical pleasure itself. The fact that Ikkaku also enjoys being overwhelmed and used in bed furthers this and makes him think that she’s more under his thumb than she really is.

Hawkins is also a closeted bisexual. His misogyny and wanting to be in control are the biggest reasons he refuses to acknowledge that side of his sexuality. Women he feels can generally overpower and control, but men he doesn’t have that advantage. Especially muscular, dangerous men like Killer, who he finds himself staring at despite his animosity. He is also aware of the fact that his looks would make many outsiders see him as the “woman” in the relationship which infuriates him. With Ikkaku, it was clear to everyone, at least in his mind, that even with his long hair and frilly shirts he was the “man.” If he pursued someone like Killer, he would not be so obviously the “masculine” one. So, his attraction to men (Killer) is repressed and shifts into anger.

[makoodles]

ミdaddy issues

part one | part two

🍓pairing: recom!miles quaritch x human fem reader

🍓tags: nsfw, interspecies relationship, temporarily one-sided attraction, second-hand embarrassment, vaginal sex, oral sex, (v brief) anal fingering, dirty talk (it's quaritch, come on)

🍓word count: 14k (there's literally nothing i could say to excuse this)

masterlist

Miles Quaritch is the kind of man whose reputation precedes him.

Everyone has heard of him. His ruthlessness and his skill are legendary, his authority absolute. The army guys talk about him like he’s the stuff of myth, the scientists talk about him like he’s the biggest bastard to ever walk the earth. Even before he had returned to life as a recombinant, he was positively infamous. Now though, his return has raised his reputation to near mythological status.

But it’s not just his name and reputation that is known around Bridgehead City. Recently, your crush on him has become equally as infamous.

It’s not your fault. It's not like you’re trying to make it obvious. The man is just so damn fine, blue or not. In the beginning, all you do is appreciate his form from a distance. It’s not like you see him all that often, anyway, so your admiration is mostly contained to quick glances in corridors and across the mess hall, whenever you spot him talking with his squad or walking with any of the higher ups.

 It’s perfectly innocent! There’s nothing wrong with having a little crush on someone that will never notice you, after all.

The problem is that your crush, while innocuous, isn’t exactly subtle.

“Quaritch, huh?” It’s Anjali that asks, an older, pretty microbiologist with a sometimes off-puttingly blunt manner.

You pause, but don’t look up from the microscope you’ve been peering into. For a moment, you consider denying it. But what’s the point? If she’s asking, that means that she’s already noticed your shy, flustered glances in the colonel’s direction.

“Yeah,” You sigh, a little defeated. “I guess.”

Because you’re so focused on the plant specimen you’re studying, you don’t notice the way all the others in the lab start looking over, clearly eavesdropping. If you had, you might have backtracked – maybe you would have downplayed your embarrassing little crush.

“He’s just...” You fiddle with the glass slide beneath the lens, still fighting not to make eye-contact with Anjali. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

Anjali snorts. She’s an older lady, with her grey-streaked hair scraped back into a severe bun, accentuating her harsh appearance. She’s working on her own report one desk over from you, but you can still see the way that she’s peering over her glasses at you.

“Is he?” She asks archly. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t see around his enormous sense of entitlement.”

You laugh a little awkwardly, and duck your head back down. God, you don’t know how else you expected that conversation to go. Everyone knows that Quaritch’s overzealous attempts to exert control over Pandora was what caused the whole war and resulted in the human population being forced off-planet all those years ago. Damn, you know that too! 

But it’s not as though you like him as a person or anything! He’s not even really the same man as the one that did all that. Your fascination with him is really just… aesthetic appreciation.

“I just think he’s attractive, you know?” You mumble, embarrassed. “I don’t know what he was like as a human, but… I don’t know. There’s something about the- the height, and the muscles-”

“Oh, spare me.” Anjali mumbles sourly.

“You asked!” You snap, mortified. “I’m just saying-!”

That’s when another voice cuts in.

“He could break you in half with his pinkie finger.” Dr. Geiszler points out from a desk behind you. He’s not even trying to pretend that he’s not listening in, leaning right over his workspace as he eavesdrops.

Your eyes widen a little, and for the first time you realise that nearly everyone else in the laboratory has been listening in the whole time. Your face grows hot with humiliation, and you shrink a little in your stool. Oh fuck, why did they all look so interested? 

Geiszler watches your reaction, and then his face slackens in an expression of realisation. “Oh shit, you’re into that.”

You genuinely can’t think of anything more humiliating right now. They’re all looking at you as though you’ve just grown an additional head.

“Oh, fuck off!” You say reflexively, scowling at them all. “You can’t pretend like you haven’t ever thought that the Na’vi are sexy!”

Anjali looks as though she’s just sucked on a lemon, but several other scientists start shiftily avoiding eye contact.

Geiszler just snorts. “That’s different. We’re not talking about just any Na’vi here, we’re talking about Quaritch!”

“He’s old enough to be your father.” Anjali points out, clearly disapproving. “Maybe even your grandfather.”

“So?” You say without thinking, before realising that this isn’t really an argument that you want to get into. “I mean- Not in his current body! No, fuck, I don’t mean- fuck. Look, can we just forget about this? Pretend I never said anything!”

Mercifully, they go silent at that, though you can still hear the faint sound of someone snickering in the back of the lab. They may not say anything more, but you’re all too aware that they’re still looking at each other and smirking. Laughing at you. 

You hunch your shoulders and keep doing your work. You wouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty over something as stupid as a harmless little crush that you can’t control. You wouldn’t.

Bridgehead really isn’t all that big, so you see the colonel semi-regularly. It’s always from a distance, but it’s still enough to give you a good look at those long legs, those big muscles, and that lithe, narrow waist. If you’re truthful with yourself, you go out of your way to organise your paths crossing.

You’re not even a fully-qualified scientist just yet. You don’t actually have an official title – you’re more like an intern. You work under the highly decorated scholars in xenobotany, running tasks and projects for them as part of your doctorate degree. You had been allowed out here to Pandora as part of your degree, in order to get the experience you needed to qualify, and it has treated you well so far. The whole internship position means that you have a little bit more freedom with regards your schedule, which works just perfectly for you.

So, yeah. What started out as innocent admiration has turned a little… stalkery. You’re willing to admit that. But it’s harmless! 

So what if you know Colonel Quaritch’s schedule off by heart? So what if you linger around the areas that you know he frequents at opportune moments, like just after his workouts or drills? It doesn’t really matter if your eyes linger around his big biceps and his sculpted chest, especially when his deep blue skin is all heat-flushed and sweaty, right? And it surely doesn’t matter if you wander past the Recombinant areas of the base far more frequently than you need to, right? It’s not as if anyone is going to notice.

It doesn’t really matter how much you stare, because the colonel is utterly oblivious to your attention. He never notices you, not even once. And that’s fine too, you tell yourself. It makes it easier, in fact! You can admire him all you want if he never looks at you, after all.

It gets a little bit more challenging to hide where your attention is straying when other people start to figure it out.

It’s like your little crush is an inside joke in the science department. The scientists on base tend to be pretty good at minding their own business (mostly because they’re usually so damn focused on their own work and little projects), but in this case you’ve become an endless source of amusement for them.

You can see the way the entire xenobiology department giggle together when you perk up at dinnertime as soon as the Recombinant soldiers enter the mess hall, and you know that they’re nudging each other when your attention strays to the Colonel as he eats. He’s got such sharp teeth, and your eyes fixate on him as he licks the sorry excuse for food he’s been served off his canines.

When you start dressing up a little bit more, the science guys start sharing smirks. It’s a little bit humiliating, but honestly you think you’re starting to lose your sense of shame. You start wearing tight little pencil skirts and thin blouses, under the guise of professionalism, and you start to do your makeup a little bit heavier too. Quaritch never so much as bats an eyelid in your direction.

“Not that I’m complaining, per se,” Geiszler drawls one afternoon, leaning lazily against the worktop as you painstakingly organise tissue samples. “But aren’t you trying a little too hard?”

“Shut up.” You grumble, chewing on your stick lip-glossed lower lip. “It’s just a skirt.”

“Right.” He drawls, eyes trailing down over the length of your body as you shift on your uncomfortable little stool. “And the makeup?”

“It’s not breaking any uniform protocols.” You say simply, scratching just under your eye. 

Geiszler sniffs, amused. “Is it true you’ve been following around the xenobiologists when they go to check on the recoms?”

You peer very closely at the tissue sample in your hands, a little more closely than entirely necessary. “Maybe.”

“Jesus.” He lets out a short, disbelieving sort of laugh. “Fuck. Why? D’you get off on being ignored or something?”

That’s a little crass, and you raise your head to scowl at him. He really doesn’t need to rub it in like that – it’s pretty damn obvious that your crush is unrequited. It’s cruel to point it out like that. 

“It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t notice,” You mutter, aggravated. “I’m just- I just like looking, that’s all.”

Geiszler snorts again, but he appears to be somewhat sympathetic now. “Right. Just looking.”

Finally, you tear your attention away from the samples so you can scowl at him. “What do you want, Dr. Geiszler?”

“I want to put you out of your misery.” He replies simply, leaving his elbows against the worktop and smirking at you. “Recoms are being sent out tomorrow. Just a small run – Ardmore wants to put those new bodies to the test before she sends them out after Sully.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask as though you’re not hanging onto every damn word.

“They’re heading to the lowlands, at the base of the mountains,” Geiszler levels you with a significant look. “You know what that means, right?”

You perk up instantly at that, your eyes growing wide.

“Panopyra.” You breathe.

Your entire damn doctoral dissertation is centred around the unusual, jellyfish-like plants that grow on other Pandoran plants. It hovers somewhere between plant, animal, and fungi, having evolved a primitive sort of nervous system. It grows a cuplike body that collects water from dew and fog and condenses it down into a thick, syrupy sort of liquid. That liquid is then collected by the native Na’vi for use in their healing drinks. It is that medicinal property that fascinates you so much.

“Yeah, I thought that might get your attention.” Geiszler grins. “You’ve run out of the samples you’ve been using, right? You’re not gonna be able to write any more of your thesis without more specimens.”

“Yes,” You breathe, your brain already scrambling to think of all the things you need to do. “I need- oh, I need some cuttings of the sensory tissue, and I need a lot more samples of the internal liquid. The stems, too-”

“Right, right,” Geiszler interrupts, nodding. “The problem is, it’s just the Recoms being sent out. They’re not bringing any of the science team.”

Your shoulders sag a little at that. How are you meant to get a proper sample if there’s no one qualified to take samples going on their reconnaissance trip?

As if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, Geiszler’s smile turns a little sly. “If you want those samples, you’re gonna have to ask the big man in charge of the mission to bring some back for you. And you’re gonna have to ask real nicely.”

Colonel Quaritch’s office is empty when you call at it, and so you’re forced to go searching for him.

You find the recoms in the little recreation room just off the hangar designated for soldier use – Na’vi-sized beanbags had been thrown into it as an afterthought for the recom soldiers, and it’s almost comical to walk in and find so many of them sprawled across the squishy chairs. Some of them have instead decided to squeeze them into the regular armchairs, with one Na’vi-sized body occupying an entire sofa. They’re playing poker of all things; they’ve been provided with a set of over-sized playing cards and everything.

They’re a rowdy bunch, shouting and roaring with laughter, and so they don’t immediately spot you when you edge your way into the room. For a moment, you think that the colonel isn’t here. But then you take another look, and you spot him. 

Quaritch is standing to the side, his spine taut and his shoulders back and straight. It’s a very formal position just for watching his squad relax, but there’s a certain softness to his expression as he watches them that you’ve never seen from him before. Your heart skips a beat; this is the most unguarded that you’ve ever seen him, and your eyes fixate on his face eagerly as you try to drink in all the details.

It’s Fike that notices you first.

“Aw, man,” He groans, tilting his head back dramatically before gesturing at you with his cards. “Not another checkup. We told the other doc, if something feels wrong we’ll tell you-”

“Ah, no.” You’re beginning to get flustered. Fike’s exclamation has drawn the attention of the other recoms, and all of a sudden you feel as though you’ve been placed under a spotlight. “I’m- I’m not actually a doctor!”

There’s a very brief pause, and then one of the female soldiers sits up from her beanbag to squint at you. You think this one is Walker.

“Why are you here all the time, then?” She asks. “Weren’t you here for our checkup yesterday?”

Oh. They had noticed. Embarrassed heat is beginning to build in your cheeks, and you can’t help but dart a quick look over at where Quaritch is still leaning against the wall. For the first time ever, he’s looking right at you. The realisation sends little jolts of electricity racing up your spine. His expression is entirely neutral, almost bored, but that doesn’t matter. He’s seeing you.

“I was just, um, shadowing the xenobiologists,” You say quickly, “For my internship.”

One of the other recoms turns to another and mouths 'internship’, and they both start to snicker. You pretend not to notice.

“And what does the intern want with us?” Fike asks, already having turned back to his cards.

It’s terribly embarrassing having to stand here and have these 9-foot-tall soldiers basically look you up and down before disregarding your entire existence. But you’re here now, and you have to push through.

“I’d..” You begin, before your throat goes dry and you have to clear your throat before trying again. “Could I please speak to the colonel?”

All the snickering and whispering dies down for a moment as the recoms look at you before swinging their heads around to look at their superior officer. There’s a moment of silence, but then the subtle sniggers start right back up again.

“So polite,” one of them whispers, and you feel yourself burn with embarrassment. But it doesn’t matter how many of them are sharing smirks or whispers, because Colonel Quaritch has pushed himself off the wall and is beginning to step towards you.

Oh god, he’s so big. You have to actually tilt your head back just to look at his face as he comes to a stop in front of you, and you begin to fidget nervously with your fingers. Up close, he seems so much bigger. Every movement has the skin around his muscles flexing, and you have to work hard not to stare like an absolute moron. 

He doesn’t crouch or bend down to make it easier for you to talk to him. Instead he just raises a brow, clearly waiting for you to speak.

“I, um- hello,” You start off clumsily, growing flustered under the weight of his intense, golden gaze. God, does he even realise how intimidating that is? “I was wondering if- I mean, I heard that you’re being sent out into the Pandoran lowlands tomorrow, and I was wondering if you might be able to bring me back something-”

God, you sound like such an idiot. There’s no way he doesn’t notice the way your voice trembles, or how you can’t quite meet his eyes, or how you keep stumbling over your words, but he just watches you evenly with no expression on his handsome face.

You fumble for the datapad that you brought with you, tapping clumsily at the screen before holding it up for him. His eyes dart to the photograph that’s being displayed, but he still doesn’t speak.

“This is panopyra.” You say, and your voice grows a little stronger. This, at least, is something you feel comfortable talking about. “It’s a plant that’s displaying characteristics of a new line of evolution toward a primitive nervous system. My entire dissertation is focused around my research into this plant, and I really need some samples. The body of it is hollow, and it collects a liquid inside-”

Finally, Quaritch speaks. 

“We ain’t bein’ sent out to do gardening.” His voice is deep and rumbly, edged with that Southern drawl. It has a hint of danger, even when he’s not actually threatening anything.

“I know!” You say hastily. “I know that. I just thought- I thought that maybe if you happened to see one, you might be able to take a sample of the liquid inside of it and, um… and bring it back.”

You end up trailing off a little pathetically, feeling overpowered by his intense stare. God, he looks so unimpressed with you right now. You bite your glossy lip and try not to shrink into yourself entirely.

At last, Quaritch sighs and holds out his hand. “Give me that thing.”

You hand over the datapad at once, your eyes growing wide at the possibility of him actually accepting. Asking for this favour had served the dual purpose of fulfilling your work needs and getting to talk to him, but you hadn’t actually expected him to agree.

He squints at the photograph on the screen, and swipes lazily through the mass amounts of text accompanying. “I ain’t reading all that shit. Give me the run-down on it.”

You had actually written ‘all that shit’, but no matter.

“It grows similar to a fungus, so you’ll likely find it attached to trees or other plants,” You rush to explain, excitement beginning to bubble up into your chest. “You won’t be able to take an actual sample of the tissue without damaging it, so forget about that. What I really would like is a sample of the fluid that collects inside the cup on top, see?”

His eyes follow you as you reach up on your toes to point out what you’re referring to in the photograph, and his ears flick back in acknowledgement.

“It poisonous?”

You hesitate a moment. “...No.”

Quaritch shoots you a look of obvious disbelief. “You wanna try that again?”

“It’s not poisonous.” You say, a little bit more convincingly this time. “But it does have a sort of defence system. Just… don’t touch the little tendrils.”

Quaritch’s face is set in stern disapproval, but he isn’t saying no. 

“I’ll provide you with the instruments you need,” You continue, starting to bounce a little on your toes at the prospect of him agreeing. You really need these samples. “Oh, I’d be so grateful!”

There’s a muffled sound from somewhere over your shoulder, where the rest of the recoms are no doubt watching and listening with great interest, but you don’t turn. Quaritch’s gaze flickers only momentarily towards them, and they silence instantly. God, he’s so effortlessly commanding.

When he looks back to you, he just sighs through his nose and hands you back the datapad. “Fine. Send me the details.”

For a moment, you just stare at him. It takes a beat to register that he’s just agreed, and then a wide, beaming grin begins to grow across your face.

“Thank you-!” You start to squeal, but he cuts you off with a quick wave of his hand.

“Cut that out,” He grumbles, already beginning to scowl as he steps back. “Never let it be said by Ardmore that I was unco-operative with the goddamned science department, yeah?”

You’re not willing to press your luck any further than you already have. You just nod, a little frantic, before sending him one last smile and scurrying your way out of the room. The laughter from the rec room follows you all the way up the corridor, but you don’t care – you’re getting your samples and you just had your first conversation with Quaritch. He looked at you, he spoke to you. He knows you exist!

You’re smiling to yourself the entire way back to the lab, flushed with the pleasure of your success.

For the next couple of days, you’re waiting on tenterhooks for the recoms return. 

You still work away on your projects and your research, but you’re hyper-attuned to everyone that comes and goes from the lab. It’s not as though you’re really expecting the recoms to come into the lab, but you’re listening desperately for any news of their return.

The day before they’re due to arrive back to base, Geiszler comes to irritate you at your desk.

“Go away.” You grumble before he can say a word.

“Oh, come on!” He laughs. “I come bearing gifts!”

That catches your attention, and you raise your head from your work to squint at him. He’s standing there with a stupid sort of grin on his face, the kind that makes you uneasy, and his hands are tucked behind his back.

“What?” You ask suspiciously.

With a flourish, Geiszler pulls his arms out from behind his back. When you see what’s in his hands, you nearly scream.

“Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with you-!” You hiss, whirling around to look frantically over your shoulders.

Mercifully, there’s no one around to witness the enormous blue dildo in his hands as he offers it up to you.

Geiszler is laughing, as though this is just the funniest shit he could have imagined. “Oh, the look on your face-!”

“Get that away from me!” You hiss, scandalised. “Oh my god, you do realise that I could report you for workplace sexual harassment-”

“But you won’t, because we made this specially for you-”

“We?” You hiss in disbelief. “Who the fuck is we?”

Geiszler waves that away as though it’s unimportant. “Me and some of the other guys in xeno. Look, it gets boring in the lab. We thought this was funny. It’s a Na’vi dildo, to scale. You’re welcome.”

“You are such an asshole.” You snap, mortified. “God, what is wrong with you!”

Geiszler just snorts, and places the big dildo on your desk, right in the middle of your papers. It’s almost comically large, made with bright blue silicone and featuring a prominent, squishy head. It’s even ribbed down the underside, with bumps that admittedly look rather attractive. Your face burns at the sight of it.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get that 3D-printed-” 

“Take it back!” You pick it up and try to push it at him, but he’s already backing away with his hands up in the air. The stupid prick is laughing at you. 

“Nu-uh! It’s all yours!” He’s already backing away, all sniggers. “You can imagine the colonel-”

“Oh, you freak! That is so invasive-!” You nearly drop the dildo entirely, both horrified and mortified. 

Oh my god, it was to scale. This was the size of what the colonel was packing? It feels as though the silicone is burning in your hand, and you feel horribly hot and prickly. Oh, this was such an invasion of the colonel’s privacy. Whether it was the standard size of a Na’vi cock or not, the idea of using it while imagining Quaritch over you has you flushed and embarrassed.

Geiszler is still laughing when he ducks out of the lab, leaving you alone and absolutely humiliated.

After that, you avoid the lab. You know that the scientists all think that your crush on Quaritch is just one big joke, and you really don’t want to see them all smirking and sniggering when they see you, and you really don’t want to have to field any sly comments about the stupid dildo. 

You’ve been too mortified to even look at it too closely, so you take it and hide it away under a load of papers in a separate work area that’s usually used as storage. You’ve been hiding away in this separate little work room for days now; you can’t do any important experiments here, but it’s as good a place as any to work on your dissertation and at least you can be alone here.

You’re in this little work area, typing furiously, when the door slides open behind you with a hiss.

“Geiszler, if you’re here just to harass me again, I will fuck you up.” You bite out without turning, your shoulders turning tense as you glare at your monitor.

There’s a moment of silence, and you hope that he’s taken the hint to go away and leave you alone.

“I’m not sure I appreciate that tone, girl.”

You turn so quickly that you nearly overbalance right off your chair, eyes wide and horrified. The workroom that you’ve practically claimed for yourself is small, with low ceilings designed for human use – that means that Quaritch has had to duck down to fit through the door, and remains standing hunched and visibly irritated, with one hand lifted against the ceiling so he doesn’t hit his head.

“Oh-!” You scramble to get off your chair and fix your skirt, tugging it down straight as you hope and pray that your hair looks alright. “Sir, I- I didn’t realise that you were back!”

Quaritch just grunts. He does not look particularly happy, but he sets a large sample container on one of the empty desk spaces. Inside, it’s filled with a clear liquid that could easily be mistaken for water, but you know better.

“Oh!” You gasp, jolting forward to take a better look. “Oh, such a big sample! This is amazing, thank you!”

Quaritch says nothing, his big alien face impossible to read.

“It better be worth it.” Another voice cuts in, and you jolt in surprise at the realisation that there’s another big blue figure ducking in through the door after Quaritch.

You pause, uncertain in the face of this newcomer and already nervous from Quaritch’s overbearing presence. Oh, god. He’s brought company. Why has he brought company? Another blue head appears over the shoulder of the first soldier, and your eyes dart between them. You’ve spent enough time watching the Colonel to recognise them as Corporal Wainfleet and Private Fike, though you don’t have so much as a passing acquaintance with them.

“I thought you said they were harmless.” Fike grumbles, before raising his hands up to show you rather brutal looking purple bruises along the backs of his hands. “Fucking look at this.”

“Oh.” You breathe, wincing. “No, I said they weren’t poisonous. I did tell you to watch out for the tendrils. The defence system is really quite amazing-”

“Oh yeah, it felt fucking amazing when it was stinging the ever-loving shit out of me.” Fike interrupts, though he appears to have lost interest in speaking to you in favour of peering curiously around the work room.

You can imagine that the place looks fairly dismal; you hadn’t been expecting visitors, so your research is scattered everywhere. Coloured sketches and photographs of cross-sections of the panopyra plant are stuck up on the walls all over, not just around your own desk. You’ve taken advantage of the desks that are never in use, piling your notes and research high all over the place. Writing your dissertation is exhausting work, after all – there is just so much to learn from these plants, so much potential.

“Well, I think that it is worth it.” You say, stepping towards the counter that Quaritch had placed your sample on and reaching eagerly for the beaker. “It’s difficult to get samples like this – there are so few excursions into the jungle these days. But one this size might actually be enough to fuel my research for the next two months at least! I might actually be able to finish my dissertation at last-”

No one is listening to you, you’re quite certain, but you don’t let that deter you as you babble away, raising the beaker to your eye level so that you can examine it. The liquid inside is pure and uncontaminated – the perfect specimen.

“Whoa,” Wainfleet is peering at the sketches on the wall. “You’re really into these weird little plants, huh?”

“They’re the whole reason I’m here on Pandora.” You say matter-of-factly, placing the beaker back down on the desk. “Everything I’m doing here, all my research, is all centred around them.”

It’s the most you’ve ever said in the presence of the recoms, and you find yourself mentally patting yourself on the back. You really are intelligent and driven, though you’re sure that the recoms would never have guessed it based on how moronically you act around Colonel Quaritch. They seem quite surprised to discover that you have actual interests other than their beefy commanding officer.

Fike and Wainfleet both poke around the work room curiously, snickering with each other as they peer blindly into microscopes and push around enormous reference books like big kids.

“Hey, careful with that!” You say reproachfully, though they pay you no mind.

Quaritch himself is still standing silently, taking in the room with alert but judgemental eyes. He doesn’t seem all that impressed by your work, but then again it’s almost impossible to read him. He makes no effort to chide his underlings at all, and they continue messing about unchecked.

“Took us a while to find you.” Quaritch speaks suddenly, and your attention is drawn to him immediately, a swoop of excitement juddering through you at the fact that he’s speaking to you. “You’re not in the lab with the rest of the science pukes.”

Your silly excitement at being on the receiving end of his attention dims a little at that. Science pukes? Seriously? You’ve worked damn hard for this degree! 

“That’s not nice.” You say, then mentally curse yourself. It’s not quite the scathing reproach you had intended – it comes out a little wobbly and uncertain. God, why do you have to come across as such a sad little wet blanket whenever you’re in front of him?

“Not nice?” Quaritch repeats, sounding partially amused and partially disbelieving. “And when have I ever been known for bein’ nice, sweetheart?”

Good lord, he’s terrifying. You don’t normally have a difficult time standing up for yourself, but something about being on the receiving end of that bright yellow stare makes your stomach twist. You don’t know if it's fear or arousal, and you also don't know which would be worse.

“I just mean-” You start, trying hard to keep your voice strong and confident. “That calling people names isn’t nice.”

Calling people names isn’t nice. Fucking hell, you sound like a goddamn five-year-old. What is even happening to you? You swear you’re not normally like this. Has your brain just rotted thanks to all the stupid ogling of his big biceps you’ve been doing? You’re mortified.

“Jesus Christ.” Wainfleet’s voice calls out from somewhere behind you. “What the fuck is this?”

For a moment, you’re desperately relieved that they’ve called attention away from you. Quaritch is looking at you with scathing disbelief for that calling people names comment, and you’re quite sure that whatever he was going to say in response to that would be so biting that you’d wish you were dead.

But then you turn to look at Wainfleet, and you actually do wish that you were dead.

Because in his hand, looking almost regular sized against his much larger body, is that stupid, evil giant blue Na’vi dildo that Geiszler had given you last week. You had stuffed it behind a whole load of old papers on an unused desk and forgotten about it – it was just your fucking luck that these gormless blue bastards would unearth it accidentally as they poked around.

Mortification erupts through your body, so overwhelming that it roots you to the spot. No way. No way. No way.

“Holy fuck!” Fike bursts out laughing, and holds his hands up. “Give that here!”

Nothing can describe the sheer humiliation that sears through you when Wainfleet tosses the dildo to Fike. You just stand there frozen, watching the two enormous Na’vi soldiers throw a huge silicone dick between them in the middle of your workspace.

“Damn, the little intern’s a freak!” Fike says in mock approval, his voice dripping in amusement. 

He makes a show of holding the dildo up to the light and peering at it, faux-admiring the bumps and ridges along the shaft.

“No, that’s not-” You start, and your voice cracks. “That’s not mine-”

You go entirely ignored as the two soldiers roar boisterously.

“Damn, you think of the Colonel when you use this?” Wainfleet asks, cackling as Fike throws it back to him. “Is this why you follow him around everywhere? You want the real thing?”

The humiliation is so intense that it’s actually difficult to breathe around it, stifling and choking. You glance at Quaritch, hoping that by some miracle he’s gone temporarily blind and deaf and has missed this entire exchange so far. The idea of him knowing that you’ve been following him around is shocking, and you feel yourself shrinking.

Quaritch has just pressed his lips together. As you watch, he gives a deep sigh through his nose. 

Your stomach quivers with mortification. Oh my god. He knew already – how long has he been aware of your crush?

“No,” You choke out, your skin burning hot. “No, I don’t- I don’t use that, it was given to me as a joke-”

Quaritch is still so difficult to read, but even still he looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere else right now. His gaze flickers briefly over your face, which is all contorted in mortification as you just barely bite back tears, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Alright, that’s enough-” Quaritch starts, but it’s too late.

Wainfleet has just reached out and smacked Fike around the head with the dildo, laughing as he did so, and Fike stumbles back with a playful roar as he tries to escape the silicone cock. He throws his arms out to catch his balance, but his big hands splay across one of the work tables and knock some of your reference books to the floor.

But it’s not just the books he knocks into. His hand smacks into that precious beaker full of panopyra liquid, and you let out a startled shout as the force of the blow of his hand breaks the glass container, the liquid inside showering all over the desk with all your papers.

Everyone goes silent, as though the sound of breaking glass signals some kind of change in the atmosphere. 

You let out a sound that’s positively wounded, jerking forward to the destroyed sample. You needed this specimen so badly – it was supposed to inform the research that you needed to finish your dissertation. How long would you have to wait for another sample like this one? You’ve been working on this research for years, and you were so damn close to the end. So damn close to being qualified, to stepping up the ladder and being taken seriously by your peers rather than just being seen as an intern.

“Shit.” One of the recoms mutter; you don’t bother looking up to see if it’s Wainfleet or Fike. “Didn’t mean to-”

Your eyes trace over the mess of broken glass, but then you realise what the sample has broken on and you feel your stomach drop to your feet.

“No!” You shriek, launching yourself forward. 

The recoms all jerk in surprise at your shout, but you pay them no mind. It’s like they’re invisible to you now. All you can see is the way that your papers, your precious research, is being soaked through and destroyed by the liquid that has spilled all over the desk.

“No, no, no, no.” You breathe to yourself, biting hard at the inside of your cheek to keep from crying as you struggle to pick up your research, shaking it out in an attempt to get the worst of the wetness off.

It’s too late. Your research, all your painstakingly-taken hand-written notes, tears like wet tissue-paper in your hands.

You raise your head to look at the three recoms in your workspace, still clutching your destroyed research to your chest. You must look crazed, breathing heavily with wide and wild eyes, because Wainfleet and Fike share a wincing look with each other.

Awkwardly, Wainfleet reaches out and places the large dildo on the counter next to the ruins of your work. Everyone in the room struggles not to look at it.

Quaritch’s jaw is clenched hard, his ears pinned back against the sides of his head. He appears to be holding himself back from shouting, though you’re not sure at who. Slowly, he turns his head to look at his two subordinates, who are now standing with their heads ducked as they try not to make eye contact.

With trembling hands, you drop your ruined research back down on the counter. Your mortification is swiftly being overtaken by pure rage. 

How fucking dare they? It would be one thing for them to mock you about your crush (that apparently Quaritch was already fucking aware of) but it’s entirely another for them to humiliate you by parading around with that stupid fucking dildo that you’ve never even properly touched. And then to go and destroy your sample, the one that you’ve waited so long for and that you needed so desperately for your dissertation? And to destroy a chunk of your existing research too?

“Get out.” You whisper, your fingers shaking as you pluck at the ruins of your papers.

Quaritch sighs through his nose. “Look, we’ll get you another sample of the damn thing. There’s no need to-”

“Get out!” You raise your voice for real, whipping your head up to shout at them. “God, you assholes! Get out!”

Fike laughs nervously, glancing towards Quaritch. That only sets you off even more. They have the audacity to follow their commanding officer into your workspace and mess around, ruining things, and now they’re not going to listen to you after destroying your work? God, they look down on you so much it’s sickening. They’re not even listening to you after humiliating you so soundly, choosing instead to look towards Quaritch as if his opinion matters so much more than yours.

Your rage is only fuelled by your earlier embarrassment, your face flushed with heat as you glare at them. Oh, you’re furious. You can’t remember ever being so humiliated and livid in your life.

“I want you fucking out!” You roar, and when they don’t move you reach for a reference book on the table beside you and launch it at them. “You’ve fucking ruined it-”

Wainfleet ducks to avoid the book that soars over his head, but you’re already reaching for another one. He throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but you’re so blinded by rage that you barely even see it.

“Oi!” Quaritch lets out a shout and steps forward with his hands outstretched as if to physically stop you. “Enough! You’ll be written up for assault if you keep this up-”

You let out an inarticulate noise of fury as you throw a second book, this one bouncing harmlessly off Fike’s shoulder. “I’ll be written up for murder if you don’t get the fuck out of here-”

Wainfleet lets out a sound that sounds like a nervous giggle that’s been choked back. You can imagine that it’s a little bit of a shock for them to see you go from shy and mild-mannered to absolutely fucking insane, but your crush on Quaritch really had made you act like a total idiot around them. You feel so stupid about it now – you had become so enamoured with someone who totally ignored your existence, shrinking into yourself like a goddamn wallflower because you were so shy around him.

But Quaritch is looking at you, for possibly one of the first times ever. Not just looking at you, but seeing you. 

When you grab at a microscope to throw, heavy and metal and definitely capable of doing some damage, Quaritch lets out a sharp hiss and steps forward with a single hand outstretched towards you as though to physically restrain you.

“Get out.” He says without looking at his soldiers.

Wainfleet and Fike share a look with each other before practically scrambling to leave. They can’t seem to leave fast enough, though you have no doubt that they’re snickering together as they go. 

“You too.” You grit out, fists clenched around the microscope as though it’s a weapon. “I want you gone too.”

Despite your obvious anger, Quaritch makes no move to leave. His big honey-coloured eyes trace over the broken glass on your desk, your ruined research, your big teary eyes. You probably look like a mess; you’re practically sweating from all the embarrassment, your hair is in disarray, your eyes are all swollen from the angry tears that are threatening to spill over.

“You need to calm down, darlin’.” He says, his voice low and a little bit rumbly. Ordinarily that might make you melt, but as it is you just feel as though he’s being condescending. “It’s just some goddamn plant water. You’ll get more on the next run.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You snap without thinking, your chest still heaving with poorly stifled emotion. “It’s not just about the sample and you know it.”

Quaritch’s golden eyes cut towards the big dildo on the counter, and you feel your temper flare all over again.

“It’s not about that either!” You snap, embarrassed and defensive. “This research is my life! Without it, there’s no point to me even being here on Pandora. Your fucking knuckleheads have just destroyed months worth of work. Do you have any idea how much harder I have to work than the fucking men out there?”

You gesture towards the door to the main laboratory, where you’re sure they’ve walked past all the overwhelmingly male scientists working away. No doubt they can hear the shouting, but no one has been brave enough to come looking to see what’s wrong. 

Quaritch’s expression doesn’t so much as twitch as he watches you rage, and he doesn’t interrupt.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is just to claw my way up to equal standing with them? They laugh at me enough already, that’s why they gave me that stupid thing-” You wave at the dildo without looking at it. “Just because they knew that I liked you. They laugh at me for having a stupid crush on you, and I… I’m so sick of people looking at me like I’m just pathetic, because I work so hard! And now you’re here, and you’ve just ruined my work-”

Quaritch lets you rant until you run yourself dry. You’re breathing heavily, exhausted and furious and so fucking sick of the sight of him.

“Look, kid.” He says at last, when you pause for breath. “You’re sweet. Pretty. Smart, clearly. But I ain’t looking for anything like that. I need to focus on this mission-”

“Oh, what the fuck.” You breathe, staring at him in total disbelief. “Is that the only part you fucking heard? I have a crush on you, that’s it! All I wanted was for you to look my way, and it took a giant fucking dildo for you to actually acknowledge that you knew about how I felt? You’re such a dick-”

“Hey,” He barks, stepping forward. He’s so huge, his bulk alone throwing you into shadow as he looms over you. “Watch your mouth-”

“No!” You snap, although your voice is a little thin. He really is an intimidating bastard. “No, you don’t get to tell me what to do! God, I am so sick of men thinking they can tell me what to do-”

Quaritch’s chest erupts in a little rumbling snarl, and you have to fight not to flinch away from him. He’s like a beast, lip all curled up over his fangs as he growls at you for your attitude.

“So what, your solution is to hide away in this miserable little room?” He demands, stepping forward just so he can look down his nose at you. “Some of those dickless little science guys were mean to you, so you’re gonna lock yourself away like this?”

“It’s not-”

“What’s the point in dressing up all pretty in those little skirts with all that makeup if you’re hiding away in here, huh?” He continues, insistent as he keeps pushing forward until you start to back up. “Maybe that’s why they don’t take you seriously. You need to stand up for-”

“That’s for you!” You shout, temper flaring up all over again. “I do that for you, because I thought you might look at me!”

Quaritch pauses at that, blinking as though you’ve just taken him by surprise. It infuriates you; how could he be so stupid, especially when he has known about your crush all this time. It’s not like it was subtle.

Suddenly, you feel absolutely exhausted. It’s like every ounce of your energy has been leached out of you, and you turn your head and sigh. The amount of emotions that have washed through you in such a short space of time has left you feeling drained and drawn, and you just want to be left alone now.

“I don’t want to look at you anymore.” You say tiredly, turning away from him and burying your face in your hands. “Just get out. Go away.”

There’s a long pause, but mercifully Quaritch doesn’t try to argue any further. You’re still turned away and facing the wall, so you hardly hear his quiet footsteps as he turns on his heel and marches out of the room. The door whooshes closed behind him, leaving you alone and hunched in the middle of the room.

In hindsight, you may have overreacted with the recoms a little bit. 

You had been careful to back up some of the most important points of your research to your hard drive, so you hadn’t truly lost as much information as you had initially feared. It’s more of an inconvenience than a tragedy, really. The loss of the sample does sting quite a bit, but you’ll get more. It just might take another couple of months – the wait is frustrating, but there’s nothing you can do about that.

All you can do is try to recoup some of the notes that you’ve lost, and struggle to write more based on the samples that you’ve already studied. It’s very difficult to come up with any new material when you don’t actually have anything to work with, but all you can do is your best, as usual.

Geiszler creeps into the small workroom a few days later. 

For several days after the incident with the recoms, none of your colleagues have dared to say a word to you. You’re sure they had heard the shouting, the glass shattering, the sound of you throwing books. If they had somehow missed all that, then they surely would have noticed the recoms that had stalked from the workroom, all agitated and pent up from the argument. Yet none of them have even asked you if you were okay.

“Still avoiding us, huh?” Geiszler asks, his question accompanied with a nervous laugh.

“Fuck off.” You bite out without looking away from your computer screen.

“Ouch.” Geiszler mutters. “I suppose I might deserve that.”

You can hear him approaching, but you still refuse to turn around. You just keep stubbornly working away, acting as though you’re too busy to spare him any attention. Unfortunately, Geiszler doesn’t let your inattention sway him; he just settles in a stool nearby, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I, uh… heard about that little blow up you had with the Colonel.” He says, clearly a little awkward. “I wanted to apologise. Upon reflection, the, uh… the dildo thing might have been a little inappropriate.”

You fight the urge to sigh. God, what did you do to deserve being surrounded with morons like this?

“Yeah, no shit.” You mutter, finally looking up to glare at him. “Why are you here? All I want is to be left alone.”

Geiszler, to your gratification, looks positively shame-faced. He’s looking down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs, sighing.

“Wanted to apologise, I guess.” He mutters, shrugging.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” You mutter, finally abandoning your attempts to appear busy as you turn to him. “Plenty more Na’vi on Pandora, right?”

A nervous giggle bubbles out of his chest, as though he’s not certain if he’s allowed to laugh or not.

“Yeah, yeah, right.” He says, starting to grin. “And, uh… are you.. Are you strictly Na’vi-sexual, or are you-”

You burst out laughing, turning to look at him in disbelief. “Na’vi-sexual? There’s no way you just fucking asked me that.”

There’s a bizarre sort of blush on his face, but he laughs along with you anyway. “Right, right. Well, you can’t blame me for wondering, right? With your crush, I mean.”

Your smile fades, and you look back down at your work scattered all over the desk. 

“I don’t want to talk about that, actually.” You murmur, “I think I’ve made enough of a fool of myself as is.”

Geiszler nods awkwardly, looking distinctly guilty.

“Yeah. You, um,” He breaks off, scratching uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “You look nice.”

You just raise a sardonic eyebrow at him. You’ve gone without makeup today, and you know that going bare-faced makes you look younger, but who were you kidding with all that makeup, anyway? You’ve abandoned the sleek pencil skirts and pretty blouses, too. Under your lab coat you wear a simple sort of sundress, one that stops just below the knees. No heels, either, just sneakers.

“Yeah, well.” You shrug a shoulder lazily. “No one to impress.”

Geiszler’s smile twists as he nods again. “Sure, sure. Um… look, I was wondering-”

You never do get to know what it is that Geiszler is wondering. The sound of the door to the workroom hissing open cuts him off, and he falls silent as the two of you look to see who has just encroached into your space.

The sight of Quaritch’s big blue form ducking in and then straightening up has the two of you stiffening, staring at him in disbelief. 

You’re absolutely rooted to the spot at the sight of him, but when he turns to look at you, you whirl around and immediately feign being busy. You grab blindly at papers and datapads, and peer unseeingly at your computer screen as you try to look preoccupied. What is he doing here?

Geiszler, meanwhile, doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s not gawking stupidly. 

Quaritch glances his way, and his expression drops into a sneer. “What’re you looking at? Get outta here.”

Irritatingly, Geiszler scrambles to do just that. He sends one last glance towards you before practically fleeing from the room, nervously ducking around Quaritch’s imposingly large figure.

Your eyes bulge a little now that you’re left alone with him, and your eyes dart around frantically around the room in search of something to do. Why is he here? Why the fuck has he come back? It’s been days since your embarrassing breakdown in front of him, and you’ve been blissfully unaware of him since. You’ve basically just locked yourself up in this room, working on your research. You’ve even taken meals here – it’s a much more productive use of your time than wandering around the base after Quaritch in the hopes of catching a good glimpse of his ass in his camo.

Fighting to resist the urge to look his way, you tap urgently at the datapad in your hand.

“Do you need something, Colonel?” You ask icily, your attention focused down on your pad. “I’m very busy.”

There’s a momentary silence, but you’re not willing to look up to see his expression.

“Was that one of the cockless little deadbeats that’s been giving you a hard time?”

Giving you a hard time. God, it sounds as though you’re a bullied little kid. How embarrassing.

“He’s the one that gave me the dildo.” You say simply, tapping on the datapad screen. “But he’s not so bad, I guess. Just a bit of an idiot. That doesn’t answer my question.”

The next pause is much longer.

“Haven’t seen you around.” Quaritch drawls, his voice slow and even. “Couldn’t get away from you, before.”

Oh my god, this man is just determined to humiliate you. 

Pursing your lips, you turn and march towards the specimen fridge in the corner of the room. It’s really just a mini fridge; a low, hip-high box that contains various biological specimens, and you kneel down and stick your head inside in an attempt to look busy.

“Not like there was any need to come see you.” You call out simply, your voice slightly muffled from inside the fridge. “You made yourself pretty clear, before.”

“Oh?” His voice is closer, though his steps are so light that you can’t hear him approach. “About what?”

“About me.” You snap, though you keep your head firmly buried in the fridge. It’s so much easier to talk to him when you can’t see his face. “Just go back to ignoring me, please.”

There’s another long pause, and you keep staring blankly at the bright white wall of the mini fridge. But then a touch comes to your hip, and you jolt in surprise. 

Quaritch’s hand is big and hot, the heat of it searing through the fabric of your labcoat and your sundress. It engulfs your whole damn hip, curving around towards your lower stomach.

“What’s with the change in clothes, sweetheart?” His voice has dropped an octave, rumbling into you as you feel him shuffle closer. “I thought all those little skirts were for me.”

Your fingers clench around the door of the fridge. What the fuck is he doing? All that time you had spent dressed up, made up, simpering like a damn idiot at him, he had barely even given you a sideways glance. But now, after screaming and crying at him like a lunatic, he’s making a pass at you while you’re wearing a simple dress with no makeup. What the fuck?

“I’m not trying to impress you.” You say simply – you feel braver inside the fridge.

“No?” His thumb strokes over your thigh, and you feel the hem of your dress hitch higher. “Well, I like this little number. Better than the others, maybe.”

You swallow thickly, staring blankly at one of the little labeled test tubes beside your face. You don’t answer, but you don’t protest either. Quaritch seems to take your lack of response as encouragement, because his whole hand drifts from your hip to just under your dress. You jerk as you feel the skirt being flipped up over your ass – but you still don’t pull away.

“Hey, kid,” He murmurs, his voice soft and a little condescending. “I gotta question for you.”

His hands are moving slowly, as though waiting to see if you’re going to kick out or try to stop him any way. You know you probably should (where is your goddamn self-respect), but for some reason you allow the touch to travel all the way up your thighs.

Your belly tightens, heat flooding between your legs. Oh god, why aren’t you stopping this? You’re already embarrassed enough about the show of yourself you’ve made in front of him – this is surely going to make it worse by making you seem like a total slut. But then again, you’ve been desperate for him since you first locked eyes on him. Maybe you are a slut.

“What?” You breathe, your voice trembling a little as his big fingers leave red-hot trails over the bare skin on the back of your legs. A large palm strokes over the inside of your thigh, the soft calluses tickling your sensitive skin.

“That dildo. You ever use it?”

The question startles you enough that you jolt, the top of your head smacking into the top of the fridge. 

“What?”

He chuckles, and then you feel those big fingers curl around your cotton panties. “You coming outta there?”

“No,” You blurt, grabbing at the sides of the mini fridge. “No, I’m very busy.”

There’s a sharp tug to your underwear, and you gasp as you feel him pull the back of your panties up so that they’re wedged right up between your ass cheeks, the fabric stretched taut and tight over your cunt. You’re admittedly wetter than you’d like to be, and you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of him noticing.

And yet, you still don’t pull away. If anything, you’re holding your breath, waiting to see what the fuck he’s going to do next.

When you feel warm breath on your exposed ass cheek, you nearly choke. Oh my god, how closely is he looking at you right now? Is his face pressed right up between your legs? It sure fucking feels like it.

“Answer the question.”

You swallow thickly. “I, um.. I don’t-”

His hand twists, and you gasp as your panties are pulled up further. The message is clear – tell the truth.

“Once,” You choke out, mortified. “Just once! I just- I threw it out after, I didn’t-”

You don’t even have time to fully process the fact that you’ve just admitted that. It had been a moment of total weakness, your decision to smuggle that stupid dildo back to your room. Or maybe it had been morbid curiosity – you just wanted to know if you would be able to take it. You had binned it straight after, mortified by your own weakness. 

There’s a sharp pain on the soft pudge of your ass, as though he’s just nipped at you there. Your thighs twitch together, horrified by the little electric zap of arousal that jolts between your legs.

“Could you take it?” He wonders, and you can hear a grin in his voice.

Holy shit, is this happening? Are you dead? Hallucinating? Have you just lost your goddamn mind?

Emboldened by the fact that he can’t see your face where you’ve stuffed your head and shoulders into the fridge, you mumble, “Pervert.”

Two hands grip at your hips, and you let out a wheezing, startled gasp when you feel a wide, rough tongue lick a stripe across your pussy through your panties. His spit soaks through the delicate fabric, making it cling to your already sticky cunt. 

“Whatcha say?” He mumbles, his muffled words vibrating against your clit. He sounds smug, the bastard.

Your thighs clench around his face, but he just reaches up and pushes them back open again with no effort.

“What are you doing?” You gasp out, dropping your forehead down onto the tray of the fridge and making the sample test tubes clink together dangerously.

He huffs a short laugh and pulls his head back to nip right at the juncture of your ass and thigh, making you jolt away from his mouth. “What, you don’t like it? Want me to stop?”

“No!” You blurt, reaching back to try and grab at his head to keep him in place.

He knocks your hand aside, but you can feel him laughing. “Get your head out of that goddamn fridge then, before I drag you out.”

You feel like staying inside the mini-fridge just on principle, but you can’t bear the thought of him pulling his mouth away from you. Not when he’s finally started to touch you, after so long of you yearning for it.

Slowly, you pull your head out. No sooner have you started to move then Quaritch uses his grip on your hips to pull you out. You let out a startled sound as his big hands grab at you and flip you, throwing you on your back in front of him. The display of casual strength is unexpected and very, very attractive, and your legs spread eagerly before he even moves to open them himself.

When you actually get a look at him, it nearly bowls you right over. His pupils are so blown that they’re swallowing his irises, leaving just a thin ring of gold around the edge. His ears are held high and alert, and his mouth is quirked in that infuriatingly cocky little grin right now. 

Fuck, he’s just as horny as you are. The realisation is shocking.

“Fuck, all this for me, baby?” He asks, hooking his fingers into your panties and tugging them right off with no effort.

You don’t put up a single ounce of fight, arching your back with an excited gasp as you’re left exposed in front of him with your dress all hiked up around your waist.

He lets out a soft groan as he reaches a finger out and drags it through the folds of your cunt, clearly marvelling at the wetness that has collected there. That same finger slips inside of you and you moan, wanting more, wanting to roll up into it, wanting the ache inside of you filled to the brim.

“Look at you, kid, all sexed up like this.” He says, pulling that finger out and admiring the glistening slick on his hand.

“You’re just a-” You gasp, heaving for breath as you struggle to regain yourself. “A dirty old man!”

That makes him laugh, a low groan of a sound that makes your eye twitch. Holy fuck, does he like being called names?

“Oh yeah?” He rumbles, sounding delighted. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before he’s licking at you again.

He flattens his tongue and guides it up, sliding across your slit before enveloping your clit in his mouth and sucking. You’re arching into his mouth, breathlessly stuttering his name as your hips twitch. His hands on your hips are so big and so strong, holding you so firmly in place as his mouth devours you. 

The flat of his tongue is rough and textured like a cat’s, and you let out a low gasping sound as it catches against your clit. Two of his fingers push into you as his tongue works over your clit, as thick and meaty as a well-hung cock. He must feel the flutter of your cunt around his fingers, because he growls low, his powerful form all but vibrating with tension. 

Oh god, he’s so big. You had known that, of course, but it’s so different having him all up in your space like this, your legs thrown over the bulge of his biceps as his big head worms its way between your legs, licking insistently at you. The bulk of him is enormous, simmering sexuality about to boil over - it’s insanely arousing to you, the sheer energy of him sending your head spinning. 

The onslaught of sensation from the wet heat of his mouth has your head dropping back to the floor, staring up at the ceiling as your eyes go wide. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and as much as you don’t want to give Quaritch the satisfaction of knowing that he affects you like this, you can't help the way your back bows as he licks and sucks at you. 

He grins against you when he feels you shiver against his mouth. When your thighs clench closed around his head he groans softly against you. Embarrassed, your legs spring back apart, but Quaritch reaches up and grabs at your thighs to prevent them from spreading too wide.

“Squeeze if you want to.” He grunts, before devoting all his attention to licking and sucking at you once more. He tugs encouragingly at your thighs, and when you wrap them tentatively around his head he gives an appreciative little hum.

You shiver, chest heaving. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, his textured tongue rasping over the bead of nerves, a strong white current washes over you and you arch into his mouth as you come.

You can’t speak, can’t think. The feeling is too overwhelming, too all-consuming before the come down eventually starts and words are coming out, your body shaking. 

“Oh fuck, god – oh my god,” you sob, slapping your hand over your mouth, biting down at your palm. “Quaritch– please, shit.”

You jerk your hips up, partially in an attempt to escape from the relentless stroking of his rough tongue over your oversensitive clit, but Quaritch moves with them. He’s basically on his knees following your cunt like a dog as you try to twitch away, using his huge hands on your ass to keep you pulled tight against his mouth.

He goes on licking at your clit and the swollen puffiness of your cunt, and when the rough texture catching against your most sensitive spot gets too much for you, you have to push at his head. He pulls back just slightly, but then continues to lick at the insides of your thighs, as if to lap up every last glimmer of your slickness.

Your head rolls on your neck, all boneless and loose as you wheeze for breath. Jesus Christ, you’ve just come so hard you can’t feel your toes. Colonel Quaritch has just eaten your pussy so goddamn good that you nearly blacked out. What the fuck?

Your cunt is still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when you feel Quaritch’s big fingers pressing inside of you, testing the stretch and slickness.

“You never answered me,” He murmurs, his tone almost conversational despite the huskiness of his voice. “And I hate repeating myself. So tell me; could you take that dildo?”

“Yes,” You sob, twisting your body around as his thumb rolls over your too-sensitive clit. “Yes, I could take it.”

“Yeah?” He says and it comes out on a purr, the vibrations rumbling in between your legs. “Think you could take me?”

You hardly have any idea how you’ve gotten into this position, but you’ve been imagining this for months now. You’re not stupid enough to throw away this chance.

“Why don’t you come and see?” You breathe, leaning back and arching your back boldly. You can hardly believe your own bravery, but maybe your own horniness is just making you stupid.

But Quaritch laughs, as though he finds you stupidly amusing, and his hands drop to his belt. You watch with wide, eager eyes as he flicks open his cargos and pushes them down and oh! There it is.

You push yourself up to get a better look, mouth falling open a little bit as you get a look at his cock. It’s big and blue and ridged, just like the dildo, but you hardly think it’s fair to compare the two. Quaritch’s cock is real, and looks velvety soft to the touch with a prominent, purplish head. Opalescent precum is beading at the tip, tinged slightly blue and glowing a little bit, what the fuck? He’s so hard that it looks a little painful as it strains against his stomach, though he’s still grinning so slyly that you would never guess.

You want to touch, but you don’t get the chance. His big paws for hands close around your hips and flip you again so that you’re on your hands and knees once more – he seems to like you in this position, because his hands grope insistently at the soft flesh of your ass as he grinds his hips into yours, the thick hardness of his cock rutting against the inside of your thighs.

He’s rough with you by human standards, but never enough to hurt. Just enough to send a little thrill up your spine when he pulls your hips into his, the thick ridge of his cockhead beginning to prod at the entrance of your cunt. It’s hot and large, but your mind feels like liquid, too drunk on all the pleasure he’s given you so far to deny more. 

You choke weakly, but you don’t try to wriggle away. You can do this, you can take him. He’s prepared you well, you’re relaxed and so wet, and you had managed to take that dildo inside you, if only for a brief time. You try to stop tensing and relax yourself as you take shaky breaths.

Quaritch pushes his cock in a little further, almost unbearably slow. You feel yourself being stretched open, small stings of pain shooting through you as you drop your forehead to the ground and grunt. One of his big thumbs strokes over the small of your back, the motion soothing and unexpectedly sweet as he slips another inch inside. 

“Oh, fuck.” You squeak, eyes wide. 

You can feel little bumps and ridges squeezing their way inside as he penetrates you, your lungs seizing up. Quiet cries and gasps fall out of your mouth as you adjust to the feeling of his cock filling you up. No human had ever given you this overwhelming sensation before, the feeling of being impossibly stretched open beyond belief. Not even that stupid goddamn dildo had come close to this.

Every time you think the length of his textured cock has finally ended, he’ll push a little more of himself in. You keep your eyes tightly closed as you continue panting heavily. He’s going incredibly slow too, careful and deliberate in his movements. You had stupidly thought that you would adjust quickly, but it feels as though you’re just barely hanging in there. 

Then, finally, Quaritch pauses. It’s a mercy, because your breaths are coming in wheezing pants now as you clench up around his cock, tightening up around the intrusion in flutters. You must be tight to the point of causing pain, but he just lets out a rumbly sort of groan against your back. His hands tense around your middle, impossibly long fingers holding you in place.

Right as you begin to accept the size of him, he uses that grip on your waist to pull you away from his cock and then back down onto him again. It knocks the wind right out of you. You gulp wildly for air, soundlessly. You can’t even cry out, you’re so stunned.

“Fuck,” Quaritch moans. “Like wet velvet, honey. Well done.”

Before you can process or even think, Quaritch pulls out and then pushes back into you, again and again. Every bump drags against your walls and snags on every sensitive part of you. It feels like you had never been fucked before this, the sweet, dull pain and overwhelming sensations of Quaritch looming over your body ruining you. 

He huffs and growls as he begins to thrust up into you, no longer slow and careful. Each time he pistons his hips, it’s powerful and keeps you from taking deep breaths. The way his body presses into yours, the way every part of you touches his burning skin, is intoxicating.

His need, his hunger borders on bestial. His wet breath condenses against your skin as he ruts into you fervently, destroying your thoughts. You’re totally at his mercy, whimpering pathetically and whining. 

It’s all too much, his size, his pace, his sharp teeth nipping the back of your neck and shoulders. He’s like a wild animal, his hard cock burying itself inside you over and over again. It’s the first time that you really begin to appreciate that Quaritch isn’t human anymore – it extends far beyond his looks and into his behaviour and instincts as well. There’s no reprieve; you can only accept his intense pace.

Unbelievably, your abdomen is tensing again, reeling up tighter and tighter. You’re on the brink of coming again, but it feels like it’s impossible. You’ve never been so pleased by a partner before, hardly ever able to come at the hands of someone else, and you’ve never come so quickly twice in succession before. You feel like you’ll die if you come again, it was too much. Everything was too much.

“Come on, mama, let me see that back arch.” Quaritch mutters to you, his voice thick and growling as his big hand settles across your shoulderblades and pushes you down.

All you can do is obey, shivering as his big hand keeps your upper body pinned to the floor, his other hand using its grip on your waist to pull your ass up higher so that he can pound into you at a better angle.

“I’m going to-” You gasp, your thighs trembling as you sob against the floor. “Oh, god, oh fuck, oh shit, I’m going to-”

“Gonna cream on me?” Quaritch grunts, his pace taking the air out of you. “Go ahead, kid. Go on. This is what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it?”

His hips slam into your ass with every thrust, every drag of his cock working those ridges against the sensitive nerves inside of you. You can feel him twitch inside of you, a sure sign that he’s approaching his own release. The thought makes you moan as the strength behind his hips sends you skidding forward on every thrust before getting yanked back by his hands.

Your lashes are all clumped together from tears, your mouth hanging open stupidly – not only are his thrusts knocking the air from you, it feels as though they’re knocking the thoughts from you too. It feels as though he’s giving fucked stupid an entirely new meaning. Your entire world has narrowed down to the sensation of his cock rutting between your legs, his balls grinding against your clit. Your release is winding up in your belly, and you feel your eyes roll and toes curl as it approaches.

“You been watching me, wanting this. If I’d known what a little spitfire you were, maybe I would have given it to you sooner-”

He rocks into you, his pace now rough and deliberate as he claims you in short, fast strokes. Your little workroom is filled with the unmistakable sound of slapping flesh, his hips snapping against your ass with every feral grunt. He has you pinned so firmly beneath him, every thrust feeling as though it’s punching right up into your chest. It aches, and that ache spreads throughout your pelvis, your belly. It’s warm and sweet as syrup. It feels like he's going to break you in half. You think you might want him to break you in half.

“Look at you go.” Quaritch mumbles, seemingly to himself, and then you feel the broad expanse of his hand slap against the soft flesh of your ass. It seems like he just wants to watch it jiggle as he ruts you like an animal. 

He leans forward, his sharp teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs to you.“This is what that limp-dicked bitch from earlier wanted with you, you know. Bet he imagined you just like this, all stretched out and wanting on that dildo he gave you. Little pervert. He wouldn’t know what to do with you. Think he’s outside listening? I bet all those cockless motherfuckers are listening right now, trying to imagine what you look like. Let them hear you, honey. Go on.”

It’s too much for you. Your elbows give out, your face smushing against the floor as Quaritch uses his grip on your hips to pull your ass back against him, his huge torso plastering itself against your back. His cock is spearing into you so deep that you feel as though you’re going to feel him inside you like this forever, feel the ghost of his cock plowing into you long after he’s gone. You feel every ridge, every vein, every throb.

“Oh god, oh fuck, shit, please!” You wheeze, shuddering as he fucks you into the floor. “I need to come, I need to come-”

You’re cut off from your babbling when one of Quaritch’s big, thick thumbs hooks into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. You moan, closing your eyes and sucking desperately at his stupid blue finger.

“Fuck, you’re hungry for it, ain’tcha.” Quaritch snickers, but he sounds breathless and a little disbelieving. “And here I was thinkin’ you were such a shy little thing.”

Just as suddenly as his finger had pushed its way into your mouth it’s removed, and you almost whine at the loss of it. But then, to your shock, you feel the spit-slick pad of his thumb stroking over the exposed rim of your asshole. He presses inside, the blunt thickness of his fat thumb wiggling inside as your whole body clenches around the intrusion hard.

With an overwhelmed scream, your entire body pulses like a heartbeat and your vision goes white. Your orgasm rocks through you like fire, as relentless and merciless as Quaritch’s rocking hips as he continues to fuck you through the quivers of your release.

“There you go,” He coos at you like you’re a goddamn animal. “Oh fuck, you needed this, didn’t you?”

Choked moans and hitched breaths bubble out of your mouth uncontrollably. It’s like he’s just been waiting for you to come, because now he loses that edge of controlled restraint that he’d managed to maintain. His thrusting is sloppy, uneven – he’s unmistakably nearing his own finish.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, darlin’.” He snarls. “Look at you gushin’ all over my cock.”

You yelp as he buries himself deep inside of you one last time, a rumbling snarl tearing its way out of his throat. You can feel the ridge of his pubic bone against your ass, his muscular thighs bracketing your own. He is rooted to the hilt, burrowing as far as possible, and you choke at the sensation of impossible fullness.

Quaritch hisses like an animal when he comes, and you squeal at the feeling of his hot come splashing inside of you then overflowing. It’s so hot that it feels as though it’s burning, but Quaritch just keeps going, the squelching shamefully loud in the quiet of the room.

Soon you’re forced to reach back and slap at his hip, gasping for breath and whimpering under the onslaught of his spent cock rubbing so insistently at your hypersensitive sex.

“Enough, fuck! Enough!” You wheeze, your forehead dropping down against the floor in surrender.

There’s a pause, and then Quaritch stops moving, his slowly softening cock buried deep inside and staying there. The heavy weight of him feels good, and you go lax on the floor as his big hands hold you up so lazily. Your chest is still heaving as you try to regulate your breathing, and Quaritch makes a couple of condescending cooing sounds to keep you quiet as he rolls you over beneath him. 

“Ow, fuck.” You breathe when he pulls out of you, leaving you awfully empty and clenching around nothing as you feel the wet dribble of his come spill out of you.

He pauses, glances down at your cunt. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, but Quaritch seems to be immensely satisfied at whatever he sees. He chortles a soft laugh, and reaches down to stroke his fingers through the sticky mess he’s left between your legs.

Your head lolls on your shoulders as you swat at him, grumbling at the electric shiver that the oversensitivity sends through you. He just snickers at your weak attempt to smack his hands away, unphased, and closes his hands around your waist before bodily picking you up to hold you against his chest.

You groan, unhappy to be moved. “Jesus Christ, gimme a minute.”

He ignores you, snorting another quiet laugh before standing with you, unbothered by the way you hang limp in his arms as he carries you towards one of the desks. His breathing is slightly laboured, and he practically drops you on the surface of the desk as he reaches for the respirator that he seemed to have abandoned when he first came in. His determination to fuck you through atmosphere that he struggles to breathe in is admirable; the Na’vi may be able to breathe oxygenated air for up to an hour, but it can be a challenge and that’s without strenuous physical activity.

Still, you can’t help but snicker yourself.

“What's wrong, old man?” You crow at him, grinning as you lay splayed out and exhausted on the desk below him. “Out of breath?”

Quaritch takes deep breaths from the respirator, clearly trying to regulate his body again after so long without proper air, but he still manages to choke a faintly disbelieving laugh.

“You used to be so sweet.” He mutters, slapping lightly at your thigh. It’s not a harsh smack, just enough to have you jolting a little under him. “What the hell happened, huh?”

“You didn’t look twice at me when I was sweet.” You grumble, reaching down to push the skirt of your dress back down self-consciously. “So don’t go acting like you’re disappointed.”

Quaritch snorts. Respirator abandoned, he leans down and nips at your shoulder, grinning against your bared skin as you jerk and cry out ow, fuck.

“Mm, I like a bit of fire.” He mutters, allowing the respirator to hang down around his neck as he licks over the little bite mark he’s left. “But you’re wrong about me looking. I can’t say I didn’t like those little skirts.”

“Oh.” You breathe, starting to smile. “Okay.” A little flustered now, you start to push yourself up into a sitting position, embarrassed about your spread legs. “Um… where’s my underwear?”

Quaritch grunts as though he doesn’t care for the question in the least. “D’you need them?”

“Yes!”

That big, stupid smug grin again. You’d dearly love to smack it off his face, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still send butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He doesn’t make any effort to seek out your lost panties, but you can’t be too irritated with him when he keeps nipping so insistently at the base of your neck, leaving hot twinges of pain-pleasure in the wake of his mouth.

“Asshole.” You say, though without any heat. Your eyes slide closed, enjoying his rough tongue against your collarbones. “Hey. You never told me why you came looking for me, anyway. Was it just to laugh at me?”

Finally, Quaritch raises his head. This close, you allow your eyes to trace over his face; his features are so alien, big and bold and more expressive than he intends. His ears twitch, and you fight back a smile at the sight. Sweet.

“Brought you more of that damned plant water.” He grunts. “It’s on your desk.”

Your eyes widen, and you immediately try to sit up, pushing roughly at his chest. “What?”

Quaritch allows you to push him away, though it’s not without an irritated sort of groan. Still though, he doesn’t look annoyed as he steps back to allow you to scramble off the counter he’s had you propped up on. If anything, his swishing tail reveals his sense of satisfaction.

Your knees nearly buckle when you hop down on the floor, but Quaritch’s enormous hand wraps around your elbow and keeps you upright. You don’t pause to try and regain your balance – you’re too busy trying to stagger over to your own messy workspace, your eyes wide and fixated on the sight of a sample beaker perched atop your desk.

“No way. No fucking way-!” You crow, your face splitting into an irrepressible grin. “Holy fuck!”

If possible, this sample is even bigger than the one that Wainfleet and Fike had smashed all over your notes. You take it in with disbelief, your hands reaching for it eagerly.

“A sample this size will let me do all the tests I need for my dissertation and more,” You breathe, awed. “I can- oh, wow. I’m going to finish my whole thesis. I’m going to get my motherfucking PhD.”

Quaritch’s mouth quirks, clearly amused by your foul mouth. He leans back against one of the spare desks just so he can watch you fuss over the sample he’s brought. 

“Do I get something in return?” He asks, and you can feel his big golden eyes dropping down over the length of your legs. His gaze feels even more heated now, as though knowing exactly what’s under your dress has lit some sort of fire in him.

You snort, stepping over to the sample fridge with the beaker clasped very carefully in your hands. 

“You certainly do not.” You say archly, hoping to maintain an aura of aloofness as you tug the fridge door open and place your precious sample carefully inside. “As far as I’m concerned, this sample can be considered reparations. If you bring me a sample of panopyra sensory tissue, however… then we can talk about rewards.”

You half wonder if maybe that was too bold, but Quaritch’s next chuckle holds an edge of heated delight. It seems like he wasn’t lying about liking a little fire. You’re so distracted by the careful tucking away of your sample that you jolt when you feel huge blue hands coming to land at your waist, tightening over your hipbones.

When he leans in to murmur in your ear, you shudder helplessly at the rumble of his chest. 

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart,” He mumbles, a hand reaching to stroke boldly over the curve of your ass. “And maybe next time we can get going without you wearing this damn fridge as a hat.”

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Katsuki takes you to dinner. You find it difficult to keep your guard up when he’s so respectful and charming.

Adult!Bakugou x Forensic Detective!Reader

⚠️ drinking. suggestive themes. violence.

l Previous l Next l

Dinner with Katsuki is precisely what you dreamed it would be: seamless and firmly rooted in his brand of romance. He takes you to a place that serves authentic Indian food. It’s right near the station. As soon as you enter, rich aromas of masalas and spices waft past your nostrils. Immediately, you begin to salivate.

“Fuck, it smells good in here,” your date mumbles. “Can’t wait t’ dig in.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumble.

In no time, a waitress collects you at the door. She guides you to a table amongst a small crowd of people. A few of them take notice of Katsuki and whisper excitedly between each other. You gulp. You hadn’t thought about the consequences of dating a pro hero. What will publicity bring?

“Ignore ‘em.” The blonde says gruffly. “Tonight’s about me ‘n you, not any of these extras.”

You cringe. He’s certainly not afraid to voice his opinions, hoping intimidation is enough to keep gossipers at bay. Fortunately, he’s right.

You both take a seat. He sets your knapsack down on the chair next to you. The waitress hands you a couple of menus, and you take your time going through them. The table is quiet as you decide. The atmosphere is light and soothing. The nerves you felt at the start of your date are dissipating.

You order your food, as does he. A glass of wine for you, and a double of whiskey for him. The waitress scurries off to fulfill it, leaving the two of you alone again.

Your mind is racing. Breaking the ice is hard. His fiery gaze is boring into you and he doesn’t appear ready to chat anytime soon. The only thing you can focus on is the case you just solved, so you use that to toss your nervousness out the window and initiate conversation.

“S-so, I’m glad we caught him,” you stammer. “The villain, I mean. Today.”

He leans back in his chair and shrugs.

“Yeah. Piece of shit should rot in Tartarus f’r what he did.”

You nod absently. Where he’s going, you hope he isn’t able to harm anyone else. The suffering he’s caused the family of his victims is enough for one lifetime.

“Did you have trouble capturing him?”

“Nah.”

“Th-that’s good.”

“D’ya think I asked you out t’ talk about work?”

His brows are furrowed and his mouth twisted into a petite frown. You lick your lips, heat flooding your cheeks. That’s what you get for acting impulsively. Why are you so uncomfortable with silence?

“S-sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed. “I just… I guess I don’t know what else to talk about.”

Katsuki appreciates your honesty. In the past, he’s been on dates where his partner scrambled to fill the silence, eventually bringing up whatever vapid shit came to mind. He respects that you don’t fall victim to the same sort of urgency. It’s more natural this way.

“How ‘bout yourself?” He suggests. “Unless you’re tight-lipped about your personal life on dates, too.”

You laugh. At that moment, the waitress swings by with your merlot. She sets two wine glasses down and pours. You thank her and take a sip. A heavy, bitter flavour of berries greets your tongue. It’s not at all unpleasant.

“I just don’t like talking about myself at work,” you explain, putting down your glass. “And I don’t do much else these days, what with staff shortages, so I guess I’m not used to it.”

“You work harder than this stubborn bastard I know.”

He means it as a compliment. In his youth, Katsuki went through an identity crisis and blamed him for the insecurities it caused; nevertheless, his bond with Izuku has only grown in adulthood — for the better. Now, he acknowledges his conscientiousness and potential as a true hero.

“Your friends aren’t buggin’ ya?” He inquires. “If I’d known you don’t cut yourself any breaks, I’d’ve asked you out sooner.”

It’s feels nice to be fawned over. Prior to today, you had no clue he harboured such a fascination for you. Although you want to take his attraction at face value, you have your guard up. You’re not looking for friends with benefits; you’re seeking a companion in him. If he thinks he can talk sweetly to you for the purpose of getting in your pants, he’s got another thing coming.

“They know I’m busy.” You brush off his concern with a smile. “And we see each other here and there.”

He props up his elbows on the backrest of his chair and stares across the room distantly, eyes fixated on the kitchen doors. You don’t blame him; you’re starving, too. You think he’s abandoned the topic, when he speaks.

“As long as you’re not workin’ yourself into the ground. Think I’d like t’ keep seein’ ya.”

It isn’t much longer until your food arrives. The waitress sets down the dishes and utensils; then, she wishes you a good meal and excuses herself. You spend the rest of your time chatting intermittently about the flavours, sharing food between each other, and enjoying your meals. When you finish, it’s later in the evening. You’ve emptied your wine glass twice, as has he with his whiskey. You’re in good spirits.

He orders two cups of tea for dessert. As you sip, he wonders about your family and which part of town you live in. Likewise, you ask him about his development into one of the top pro heroes in Japan. You discover he doesn’t like to boast. He mentions his passion for honing his quirk and being “the best” in his youth. He describes how Best Jeanist, a former Billboard Hero, taught him to concentrate more on contained survival than reckless showing off. All in all, he keeps his story short and sweet.

It sounds like he’s been through a lot. You’re surprised someone with such an action-packed life is into you. The edgiest thing you’ve ever done was taking out a loan to attend graduate school. You thought he would have preferred another hero. Then again, the idea of seeing another forensic detective doesn’t do it for you. You’d rather leave work where it is and retire after a long day. Maybe Katsuki feels the same.

“Well?” He prompts you gruffly.

You blink absently. Did he say something while you were lost in thought? You lift a brow and hum, prompting him to clarify. He rolls his eyes playfully, picking up on how the alcohol has distracted you.

“What did’j’ya think of the meal?”

You beam at him.

“I loved it!”

“You sure? I won’t be offended.”

“Positive! I really enjoyed myself. Thank you, Katsuki.”

You catch a brief smile fluttering across his face. Just as soon as it appears, though, it’s gone. He feels like an idiot for getting flustered by something so simple, but he likes listening to you, and every syllable of his name sounds like heaven on your tongue. In his teenage years, you eliciting this sort of vulnerability would have infuriated him; as an adult, he knows how to calmly identify his emotions and reel them in.

He fucking likes you — that’s the truth. You’re bright and interesting. You encourage him engage with his thoughts and opinions, instead of dismiss them. He’s compelled to learn more about you. He gets the sense that he could converse with you for days and not get bored. You’re a rare breed.

“Ready t’ go?” He prompts you. “I’ll pay and we can head out.”

“You don’t have to pay,” you insist. “I can afford my half.”

“Fat fuckin’ chance.” He snorts. “Lemme get this this one f’r us, princess.”

You huff. Normally, you would want to pay; that way, there are no expectations for later. You’re not sure if you want to put out tonight. He’s playing all his cards right, and the tension is there, but you don’t want this to be a one night stand. When you have crushes on people, you mean them.

“Well… okay.” You concede. “But only if I can get the next one.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey! C’mon!”

“Grab your shit an’ let’s go.”

You groan as you slip on your windbreaker and grab your knapsack. He’s already at the counter, settling the tab. Katsuki escorts you out of the building with a hand on the small of your back. In no time, you’re back on the street.

At this time of night, there aren’t many people walking around. It’s mostly other couples, pacing home or simply enjoying the evening together. The atmosphere is serene. A gentle wind tousles the leaves, adding to the tranquility. You shiver.

Katsuki walks head of you; then, he extends his hand for you to take. You do so with only a smidgen of hesitation this time, trying to trust your budding feelings for him. He reels you closer. Your palms touch his firm chest as he secures you against him. He gazes at you with a ghost of a smirk.

“So, you want there t’ be a next time?”

Reflexively, you laugh. Your face burns as you scramble to respond. You’re not used to being teased this way.

“Um… yeah. I-I guess I do.”

“No more pretendin’ you’re not inta me, then.”

“When you started flirting with me, I thought you were just bored,” you admit sheepishly. “But I k-kinda had a crush on you.”

His grip on you tightens.

“Had?”

“Have.”

“S’what I thought.”

Katsuki isn’t sure if it’s the whiskey or how easy it is to talk to you, but he feels comfortable around you. He wasn’t sure if it would translate as well outside of work — in his eyes, you had the potential to be too good for him. If you want him like he wants you, perhaps there’s a shot. Besides, you’re bound to understand his busy schedule and odd hours, what with you being in law enforcement. So what if you’re not a hero? He’s merely looking for someone he can sync up with.

“Look, I ain’t great at expressin’ my feelings ‘n shit, but I thought you were cute as soon as you showed up t’ that crime scene. Showed me you were smart, too. Down t’ earth. Not just a fuckin’ stiff in a tight skirt.”

You draw yourself into the memory. When you received the call, you arrived earlier than everyone else with your equipment. Officers were stationed around the perimeter, blocking all pedestrian points so you could do your work. Apparently, the victim was a big deal — that’s why Dynamight was assigned to your case. Half of his job was to protect you; the other half was to commence takedown of the scumbag murderer.

You thought he was annoying and pompous when he first appeared, sauntering around the scene like he was in charge. He seemed disinterested, as though he’d rather be doing something else. You didn’t love his attitude. But then, as he started to help — flirting with you, in the process — you witnessed a different side of him. Maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but more so that he desensitizes himself to function.

Despite the rumours about him, you recognize that Katsuki has feelings. He gives a damn about victims and keeping civilians safe. Although he’s brash and aggressive in nature, his heart isn’t as icy as people think.

“I always thought you were handsome,” you admit shyly, averting your eyes. “Whenever I saw you on TV, I mean.”

He smirks.

“You’re not a fuckin’ super fan, are ya?”

“No!” You grin. “You’re just always on the News for breaking things, so you’re pretty hard to miss.”

He snorts. You glance at him to see if you crossed a line with your comment. Joy fills your soul when you catch him rubbing his jaw with a large hand, no doubt to hide another smile. If you were anyone else, he’d tell you to fuck off. Because you’re you, he feels his attraction to you soar.

“Shut the hell up an’ tell me when you’re free next week.”

And he seals the deal with a light peck on the cheek. He fights the urge to capture your sweet lips once more, hoping that one day, he won’t have to.

[bluepandastarfish]

The Ghost Of Castle Dimitrescu Chapter 2

Lady Dimitrescu X Ghost!Fem Reader

Warnings: violence, mention of violence, angst, sadness, kinda creepy mentioned behaviours

Tell me if I missed any warnings!

Chapter 1

Lady Dimitrescu masterlist

A/N: I'm embarrassed this took so long 🙈 thank you for waiting I do really enjoy writing this stuff. This chapter feels to short I'd be really happy to do more I JUST don't know where this story is going! If Anyone has any ideas on where to take this please leave in comments or send an ask I need help I'm incapable :')

ENJOY!

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A chill ran through you as you woke up in your bed again. 

Your nightgown not yet stained with blood and your figure not yet malnourished or sickly. 

A knock is heard on your bedroom door, just as it is every time. Just as it was the first time. 

You stand from your bed, forced to walk the same steps you had that night. You open the door to a man you can't quite see the face of- almost as if it has been blurred out. He shouts intangible words at you, he pushes you back and away from the door. 

You do not fight back as he shows you the pistol he had tucked into his dress pants (you think it strange that he was fully dressed in the middle of the night but perhaps you've misremembered it after living through it so many times). Hearing words screamed in your face that you can only make out as threats when he grips your arm and drags you out of the room with him. 

He does not slow when you accidentally hit your shoulder on the door frame, he does not slow when your dress is caught on the small table and is ripped around your ankles. But he stops when you reach the bottom of the main stairs- both of you stop when two shadows barge in through the dining room door. 

Once they had looked like men you knew, but now you struggled to remember them at all. Even as he raises his gun and shoots wildly at the shadow people and both fall to the ground with loud thuds you feel apathetic. It is only when you try to wrestle the gun from him that you feel a sense of dread. 

He does not give it easily but you hold onto it with all your might, echoing of your screams and cries around you even as you did not make any noise currently. Finally you can make out his words. 

“Do you wish to die with the bastards!” 

A firm slap to the face knocks sense from you and your grip on the gun loosens. The world becomes a void around you as you stumble back and make a noise that feels inhuman as a shot finally rings out. 

–-----------------------

Waking up after those ‘dreams’ is always very strange. Wherever you fell asleep- you then woke up, which you guess is normal. But you weren't normal anymore. 

You'd fallen asleep in the Lady's bed shortly after she had. While she was under the covers on the left side and facing inward, you laid opposite her to admire her bare face. Even without makeup she seemed gorgeous and you would've been jealous of her if you weren't struggling with your strange fascination. 

The interaction in the opera hall had been fun for you… but it hurt you in ways you didn't understand when she fell away from you in fear. Another part of you is almost proud that you had cracked the hard exterior- the mask she wore.

She was not in bed opposite you anymore but judging by how the duvet was still folded toward you and the pillow hadn't been fluffed she must have gotten out very recently. You sigh and shift over slightly, not noticing how the duvet actually shifts under you as you do, and blurry your face into her pillow to savor the smell of her faded perfume. If you were honest, the smell of it after she has worn it all day is much more pleasing than when she first applied it in the morning.  

You turn your head, now resting your cheek on her pillow, facing the closest wall and listening as you hear the telephone ring on the vanity on the opposite side of the room. A loud sigh sounded (and for a moment you nearly smiled at her obvious distaste for whoever was calling) before the phone was picked up and the ladys deep voice echoed pleasantly through your mind. 

“Yes?” Her tone was short, clearly wanting to be done with the conversation quickly- likely because she was anxious to get back to her girls who must've left earlier. “oh- Mother Miranda” you sneered at the suddenly cheery tone in her voice, a smile that could be heard in her speech vexed you as you lifted yourself into a seated position on her bed. 

You hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the woman who seemed to have enchanted *your* lady- but if you ever did you'd be sure to scare her enough that she'd never bother this family again. She always seemed to ask questionable things of Alcina, that or schedule dull meetings that lasted far too long for your liking. While Alcina seemed happy you could see that whatever… ‘relationship’ the two shared was nothing short of unhealthy. 

Alcina is quiet as Mother Miranda speaks on the other end of the telephone. “of course, I-” She is cut off again as mumbles can be hard through the phone in her hand. You decide now to sit up, albeit lazily, in order to gauge her reaction through the mirror. 

Alcina head was tilted slightly as she held the phone to her ear with a delicate grip, as if she was afraid she would break it. Her hair was messy and draped over her shoulders but only reached about halfway down her shoulder blades as she liked to keep it short enough for her signature hairstyle to be nearly and easily pinned into place everyday, judging by this unorganized appearance you'd been right in your guess that shed woken up not long ago. 

Her face was bare of makeup- although judging by the way she was absentmindedly setting up products infront of her as she listened to the phone, she planned on doing herself up soon enough. Most mornings she liked to be composed before any staff or lady's maid helped her dress (which is why she never bathed in the mornings), there was no need for anyone to see her without makeup on before she was ready. 

She seemed slightly annoyed by the fact that Mother Miranda was not letting her get a word in, evident by the fact she was nibbling on the inside of her lip (another habit of hers you noticed) and placing the products on her vanity slightly harsher than normal. Finally the woman on the other end seemed to stop talking and so Alcina let a small smile trail back onto her face. 

“Of course, it all sounds rather urgent. Are you sure you won't be needing an extra hand with these things? I am well equipped with-” her smile fell as she was interrupted again before she sighed quietly and nodded to herself. “yes- yes… my size would likely hinder your progress. Well in any case please do inform me if you need anything else. I'll have some maid delivered to you before midday” 

Her smile was sadder now or maybe just tired as she said a cheery sounding goodbye into the phone with another reminder that “should you need *anything* please contact me” before she placed the phone down slowly and switched her gaze to her own reflection in the mirror. She sighed and squinted angrily at herself before beginning to harshly apply layers of makeup to her face. 

You sneer at the way she roughly applies makeup to her skin, you were sure her grip on the brush would snap the thing in half soon enough. You grunt in a very unlady like manner and stand from the bed to approach her wardrobe. 

“I think you should go with the red dress today, gorgeous” you say aloud despite knowing the Lady couldn't hear you. “A change in outfit might cheer you up a bit, my dear. No point stewing in the same outfit everyday of your life.” you ruffle one of the dresses out the way as you phase your upper body through the wardrobe door to get a look at the one you want her to wear. Unfortunately you are unable to see nearly anything with the darkness that shrouded the small space inside the wardrobe- and so you pop back out of the door and turn to the Lady “Would you open the door for me, dear? I can't see a thing without the light of the room.” 

Of course she doesn't respond to you but only five minutes later, and as she had finished her makeup, a knock was on her door followed by Alcina short “Enter”. The lady's maid entered then and swiftly greeted Alcina before opening her wardrobe and flipping through dresses. You make your way to the vanity and sit on it, directly next to Alcina to whisper to her. 

“the red one is the best option, georgous” 

She turned to look at the maid rifling through the wardrobe and swallowed almost nervously before telling the woman quietly “I think we will go with the red dress today, Elizabeta”. The girl merely nodded and pulled out the dress in question to set it on the ladys bed. 

The Lady glanced around her then as if she was trying to see something that wasn't there and then announced quite quietly. “you may leave now, I don't require your service any further this morning.” the maid looked confused but seemed relieved at the same time as she left the room without question. Once the door had closed Alcina looked around the room once more and sighed “if… the ghost” she seemed irritated saying the word “is here, I ask that you either give me privacy to dress or you help.” 

Your eyes widen at her words, not having expected her to talk directly to you. After so long of not being spoken to it was sort of scary and it didn't help that The Lady was a very intimidating lady. She kind of reminded you of your wet nurse in that way- although more attractive in so many ways. You gulped and were shocked for a moment by how audible it was before going over to the bed where the dress had been placed and beginning to undo the buttons so Alcina could get into it. 

She was silent as she watched the dress undo itself relatively quickly as if nervous hands were handling them. Once all the buttons had been undone, the dress was flipped so the back faced her and it took a moment for her to move to take her nightgown off. Alcina thought, if this ghost were a human woman then she could likely hold power over her the same way she held power over all the other little maidens in her care. She was well aware that lots of her staff fancied her in some way- having incredible hearing she always knew which of these girls acted on their desires when they had moments alone. Never did she give any of these depraved women a second glance because they were beneath her and her daughter's, to stop as low as to give them attention would be an insult to herself. 

Now, however, something she has not encountered before is within her grasp. If anything she is sure Mother Miranda would be interested in such a thing- especially if she could find a way to communicate with the ghost of her real daughter. And so Alcina has decided she will play along with this creature for a while or at least until she has something of value from it to show Mother Miranda. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by a gentle cough and when she looked up she was greeted by the familiar spector again. The woman avoided her gaze this time- seeming to find the floor very interesting as she stood beside the end of the bed where the ladys red dress laid- Alcina took a deep breath and squinted as she took in the other woman's appearance. Still too thin to be consindered healthy and dark patches under her eyes with blood both wet and dried covering a portion of her dress. 

Alcina swallowed again and the woman began to twiddle her thumbs in front of her. She was slightly surprised that the ghost seemed nervous now compared to how she was when they spoke in the opera hall, no shame as she seemed to flirt and compliment Alcina- no shame when she scared her half to death with her gastly change appearance. Speaking of which, it seemed the girl must have the ability to change her appearance at will to a more grotesque and ghoulish state, something the lady would keep in mind. 

“ ‘s all unbuttoned, geor-uh” you looked up from your thumbs then and at Alcina as you corrected your mumblings “my lady”. Everything seemed a bit too real now that she was really interacting with you- it felt like you were talking with a book character you'd been fantasizing about for years. You were just glad she did not know the depth of your infatuation with her (or that you'd already helped her change multiple times before). 

Alcina abruptly stood up, albeit on slightly shaking legs and approached the dress without giving you another glance. She hastily turned to take the nightgown off so you could only see her back muscles and it took everything in you not to trail your gaze lower just before she slipped the dress over her head. Luckily -or unluckily- for you her back was still displayed to you as she couldn't reach to do up the buttons herself, she perched herself gently on the end of her bed and seemed to mean backwards toward you slightly. 

It took a moment before you realized you were meant to be helping her now (instead of just watching like some pervert) and quickly got closer to carefully do the buttons up on her back. You both seemed to shiver involuntarily when your skin brushed hers but unfortunately for two different reasons, Alcina had barely managed not to flinch away from your freezing body temperature whereas you were just amazed by the fact that you were now touching her. 

She pushed her lips together impatiently as it seemed to be taking an unusually long while for the ghostly woman to simply button up a dress- perhaps it was too much for her as she had not done it for a long while? And then The Lady wondered why you had not revealed yourself sooner. Something was stopping you? A lack of confidence? Fear? Then again what would an already dead woman have to fear? 

She was yet again cut from her thoughts by the freezing touch just brushing the back of her scalp and something else being pushed through her hair. She snapped her head around to look accusingly at you and you merely leaned away slightly and avoided her eye again before muttering that “one of the pins was loose”. 

Alcina sighed (she was doing an awful lot of sighing lately, you had noticed) and stretched her shoulders slightly, giving a pleased hum when she felt all the buttons had been done up. “Well, I must say I'm pleased you managed to get the buttons done without issue. However long it took you” she noticed you wince at her words and she gathered that you must not really be much of a threat right now if you were so nervous with her. 

“yes… apologize, my lady. It's been a while since I did something so delicate with my hands” you keep your gaze on those very hands, as if judging them for taking so long to do her buttons up. A large finger under your chin left you breathless (and you only just now thought about how silly it was that you still had to breathe) and wide eyed as it tilted your head up and to look your lady in the eye. 

“you will look at me when you speak with me. Unless you consider yourself on the same level as my staff?” her question was not really a question you were meant to answer, as made evident by the fact that she didn't raise her eyebrow like she usually did when she was inquiring about something. So instead you allowed your eyelids to relax as you simply looked in those smoldering and golden eyes of hers, you must've looked hypnotized or drunk as you simply let your head weight rest on her finger and she seemed to have no trouble holding it up even with the one finger. 

She cleared her throat and began looking around your face awkwardly as if your gaze was making her uncomfortable- or as you hoped, flustered. You blinked as she shifted her finger slightly to get your attention again and smiled dreaming at her. “I'm sorry, Alcina. You're intoxicating.” your words were a whisper as if what you were saying was a secret. This confused her again because of how confident you were in the opera room. 

But then she furrowed her brows and tyres to appear angry instead of confused. “Were you given permission to use my first name?” she moved her thumbs now to hold your chin in place in case you tried to move away. You blinked at her lazily as if confused by her question and then try to tilt your head to the side before finding yourself unable to because of her grip. 

You smile apologetically at her before whispering again “I'm sorry, my lady. I've gotten used to saying whatever I please, having no one hearing you for centuries can make you forget your manners”. You began to panic slightly now as she narrowed her eyes at your answer, thinking to yourself that you must've upset her when all you wanted was to tell her the truth. 

She seemed to notice panic on your face as her features softened and she turned fully to face you, moving her hand to gently hold your cheek instead in some kind of comforting gesture. “That will have to change from now on, girl.” her tone was just as soft as her touch. “I expect you to make yourself present and visible to me more often.” 

Your eyes widened and for a split second you thought of a world where you did appear to her constantly. Where you joined them at the dinner table and sat in your own chair instead of just watching her and her daughter's conversation. Where they laughed with you at jokes you'd make instead of not hearing them. 

In that world you would be part of their family- you would be Cassandra's friend who appeared in front of maids to scare them and then laugh together. You would spend quiet moments with Daniela in the library reading the romance books she recommended you days prior and then you'd discuss them together. Bela would vent to you about the pressure she feels due to managing some of the vineyard instead of writing it in her journal and having breakdowns alone in her room. 

Alcina would ask you to read to her by the fire in the main hall in the evening. You would paint with her and she would try to hide her gorgeous laughs at your pitiful attempts to copy one of her paintings, when you both know all you can really paint is what Daniela calls a stickman. 

Your family. 

But they're not. And you are long dead. 

Alcina, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela were perfect. And you were dead. Only sticking around to see what you could've had if you had only lived. 

And so you leave Alcina in that position. Her hand was still hovering where your cheek was as she held you. Because staying there would be a burden for her family. She looks agitated but you tell yourself that it's only because you dared disobey her wishes (even though you hope it is because she enjoyed you). 

You can't be the girl's mother for the same reason you cannot be anyone's mother.death should've been the end. Joining them in a physical way would be selfish and only you would gain from it while this perfect family would be stuck with you for however long their immortal lives last. 

You were stupid and selfish to show yourself to Bela- you thought it'd be fun to finally show yourselves to them instead of just tucking Bela into bed after she exhausted herself with another panic attack. Or putting books back onto shelves because Dani left them in a mess on the floor. Or tripping the maids that fled Cassandra so she could catch them more easily. 

Taking the pins out of Alcinas hair when she falls asleep at her desk instead of her bed. Tidying her paperwork into neater piles so she did not struggle to find things she needed. Knocking her reading glasses off the top of her head when she forgot she'd put them there and began searching the castle for them. 

But you would stay in your place. Because your place was better for everyone in the long run. You refused to infiltrate and infect this perfect family with your unnatural existence.

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Thank you for reading! Sorry if the ending feels kind of crap I will change it if soemone is unhappy with it <3

[watchtowerindistress]

are you falling for me...? (1/2) - arthur pendragon x guinevere!reader

A/N: Another one! Damn, Arthur is such a banter machine. Excuse the few times when I didn’t use time-appropriate wording. I don’t know when I’m going to post the second part since inspiration has been hindered by my schedule. Still working on the draft outline.

Summary: Imagine meeting Arthur for the first time who is claiming you already as the love of his life aka his future wife. 

Arthur Pendragon - the most infuriating man in all of Camelot who knew of his effect on women. As if you didn't already knew how his abdominal muscles looked. The destined King tended to take his shirt off in your presence any chance he could get after all.

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x fem!reader (Lady Guinevere, no body description)

Warning: puns, sexual undertones, mention of smut, language, blood

Words: 3.2k

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Get tagged

“So, what’s the plan?”

Arthur and Bedivere rode on horseback side-by-side through the forest.

“We need to acquire the help of someone who can hide in the shadows. Manipulate the minds of people. A fighter and a spy.”

Arthur turned his head in fascination at the vague description. “You’re not talking about the mage then?” He chuckled. “I’m guessing you have someone in mind already?”

“Indeed. This could prove to be quite difficult though. If they don’t kill us first.”

Arthur turned his head sharply at the ominous warning. He smiled wryly. “How wonderful. And here I thought I would die while inside of a beautiful woman and not surrounded by trees.”

“Quiet,” his friend muttered strictly.

Arthur snorted. “Don’t be a prude, Bedivere.”

“Stop talking and halt your horse.”

Arthur grunted loudly. An arrow whizzed in front of his horse’s feet. With a stunned reaction, Arthur’s eyes went downwards before he pulled the reins. The horse whinnied in reaction and her legs jumped in the air. Arthur tried soothing the horse by stroking the skin and quietly muttering, “Easy, girl. Steady.”

Arthur turned his head towards Bedivere with cynicism in his eyes. “Is this person really your friend?”

“I never said anything about friends. More like friend of a friend.”

Arthur didn’t like the nonchalant tone in his voice since Bedivere wasn’t known for it. “You’re not exactly instilling a lot of confidence, my friend.”

Bedivere raised his voice when he called out into the greenery. “We mean you no harm.”

In demonstration, Bedivere lifted his hand and carefully stepped off his horse. With his expressive eyes, Bedivere indicated for Arthur to do the same. “We just want to talk.”

Arthur sighed before he followed suit. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he uttered into a whisper that soon shifted into a hiss. “I’m not getting shot with an arrow for you.”

“Please ignore my companion. We need your help,” Bedivere continued, as if he hadn’t heard him.

Arthur only heard the rustling sound once a hooded archer jumped down from one of the tree’s branches. They tilted their head before pointing a nocked arrow towards Arthur.

He snarled at the threat they displayed and didn’t appreciate the insult. “Tell your friend to stop threatening me with the pointy sticks.”

“You’re the one posing a threat with the sword,” he explained. Bedivere sent him a nonplussed expression. “What? I’m only carrying my daggers.”

The archer’s eyes lingered on Excalibur which he was carrying at his waist. The hood shrouded their features in darkness, he could merely detect a dark-green paint underneath their eyes and along the cheeks.

Yet, he couldn’t help being a brazen bastard when he smirked. “Are you impressed with my giant weapon?”

His hooded opponent exhaled an aggravated groan. Arthur frowned when the sound stirred something in his breeches.

They unsheathed their hidden blade. Stepping closer, they pointed the sharp end towards Arthur’s face.

Not liking where this was going, Arthur nervously reached for his sword and clenched his jaw. He tilted his head back and the corners of his mouth twisted into a snarl.

“In your dreams,” a female voice answered.

Arthur frowned as soon as he realized that he was facing a woman. He tilted his head to gaze under the hood and discerned soft lips.

It still confused him that his manhood twitched at the anticipation of being threatened with a sword by a woman.

“Why are you wearing men’s pants?” he blurted out.

You furrowed your eyebrows and dropped the hood of your cloak with your free hand, revealing the green camouflage around the eyes and your braided hair over your shoulder.

Arthur’s hand loosened from his sheath before he opened his mouth, feeling utterly speechless.

“I’m pointing a very sharp blade to your face. Are these really the last words you want to utter before you die? Perhaps you’d prefer those pointy sticks instead?”

Bedivere, ever the diplomat, raised his palms while standing between them. “No one’s killing anyone today.” When he didn’t see you revert back from your threatening stance, he continued, “You really intend to kill the next King of England before can even fulfil his destiny?”

You slightly lowered your blade in astonishment. “You’re Arthur?”

“Have we met before, love?” Arthur felt fascinated by this creature and his face lit up.

You exhaled before glancing at Bedivere in heavy disappointment. “Are you sure that I can’t just kill him? I would do us all a favour.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. His arms tensed at his waist. “What did I ever do to hurt you? We just met.”

Frowning in confusion, you turned back to Bedivere. You placed the blade back into the sheath at your waist. “Why are you here?”

“We need your help, Lady Guinevere.”

You sighed wearily. “Did Merlin send you?”

Bedivere quietly nodded.

“Well, great. Not like I have a choice, do I?” You turned to Arthur, feeling confused by his silence. “Anything else you have to say?”

Arthur looked up, knowing he had been staring at your body in great appreciation. He swallowed thickly. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the motion. “… You have really … beautiful eyes. You know … the green paint makes them really, you know, … shine.”

Arthur could feel Bedivere look at him in a mixture of shock and puzzlement.

The mission went as expected. The fact that Arthur was the one who planned it shouldn’t have surprised you. Especially that he was forced to improvise when him and his rebel friends were confronted with a few Blacklegs.

You merely sighed and nocked an arrow into your bow and let it loose. The hand holding his sword was penetrated before a pained roar echoed on the streets. Apparently, Bedivere wasn’t wrong in utilizing you as a backup to save Arthur’s hide.

You stepped into the cave. After seeing the mage by the fireplace who stirred a green-ish paste with a mortar and pestle, you muttered sarcastically over the woman’s shoulder, “Smells delightful.”

“Not all things to cure your ailments taste like rainbows.”

You whispered, “Of course you’d know what a rainbow tastes like. What’s it for?” You watched her work while cowering on the ground.

“Arthur,” she muttered back. “This way his shoulder won’t get infected.”

“Ah, that mace came out of nowhere,” you explained almost defensively that you weren’t able to fully keep Arthur safe.

“Do you mind bringing it to him at the lake?”

Her gaze remained on the mash without facing you.

You narrowed your eyes and stood upright again. “I’m not a healer.”

“But you still know how to bandage a wound, don’t you?”

Mistrust rose in you. The mage was always known in taking care of the future King.

“Got something better to do?”

“Actually, yes. I’m awfully cold, I think I’d rather stay by the fire. Keep myself warm,” the mage answered innocently.

“I know what you’re doing, mage, and I don’t appreciate it,” you hissed darkly.

The mage lifted the mortar like a small present over your shoulder. “Wonderful. Love the initiative.”

You heaved a sigh while you strolled along the riverbank. The exhaling breath turned heavier as soon as you saw Arthur sitting in the distance.

His back was turned towards you. A huge gulp was taken from the bottle of alcohol before he shoved it back into the sand with circular motions.

“Keep some of that.” You notified your presence.

At the sound of your voice behind him, Arthur turned his body in surprise.

The blond man wrestled the bottle out of the sand and gave it away willingly. He smirked lecherously. “When did I get so lucky to have you take care of me?”

“Or unlucky. I have a blade to ward off any unwanted hands, you know.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘unwanted’, princess,” Arthur mumbled with a gravelly voice.

You exhaled at hearing his constant flirting. “Take off your undergarment.”

Arthur sent you a surprised smirk. “Well, hello. You’re a bit fast for me. What happened to foreplay?”

“My King,” you hissed mockingly. “Take off your chemise or I’ll do it for you.”

Arthur chuckled. “You’re making me blush, Princess. You know I’m all yours-”

With harsh movements of your wrist, you wrestled with Arthur’s clothing.

“Uh - God damn it - you - not so rough.” Arthur exhaled as soon as he was freed from his undergarment and his upper body was naked to your eyes.

The moment it was bare, and the wound was visible, you realized that it would have sufficed to pull it at his shoulder a bit. Either you wanted to ogle him or torture him with your rugged manner. And imagining the first option was far too frightening to imagine.

Wet hair clung to Arthur’s forehead. The carnal image was a pure distraction.

“You have a terrible bedside manner,” he grumbled.

“Then I guess you need to be careful not to get hurt again.” Wetting the linen clothing with the water of the lake, you cleaned his wound until a nasty cut remained. You dipped the material back in the water to get rid of the spare blood.

Arthur whispered softly, “Oh, are you falling for me, my love? Careful, your true feelings are showing.”

You reciprocated Arthur’s gaze without blinking. You cleared your throat. Absentmindedly, you doused the linen clothing with alcohol. Without warning, you pushed the garment mercilessly against Arthur’s bloodied skin.

A pained groan left his lips before Arthur closed his eyes. “Damn you, woman. Let me.” He pressed the linen against his skin himself unless he wanted to get tortured further.

“Judging by the scars on your body, I’d imagine you knew a lot about pain already.”

Arthur gazed back at you. “I knew you’ve been admiring my body after all.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

You revealed the mortar with the green paste. “Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

“Truth be told, you could me help with-” His nose wrinkled once the smell hit him. “What the hell’s that?”

“Courtesy of our mage.” Two fingers smeared with the spread before you rubbed it on his injured shoulder. “It’s supposed to activate the healing process, save it from infection. It would be a shame for the born King to die from a mere infection, wouldn’t it?”

You began wrapping the bandages around his shoulder.

Arthur chuckled before he licked his lips. His gaze met yours over his shoulder. “So, what did I ever do to hurt your feelings, huh? Did we shag and I ignored you the day after?”

Arthur’s casual mention made you wrap the bandage tighter around his shoulder.

He hissed in pain and glared at you.

You chose to ignore his stare while continuing to focus on wrapping Arthur’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe I just abhor the fact of having no control over my own fate.”

“And what would you do if you had control, my Lady?”

“Stop calling me that,” you growled.

“Why is a lady hiding in the forest in the first place?”

“Same as you. So your uncle doesn’t kill me.” Without realizing it, your fingers tightened a knot into the wrap.

“You still haven’t answered my question. How do we know each other?”

“To be honest, you already know the answer to that.”

“Come on, put this poor chap out of his misery.”

You playfully inspected your surroundings. “Oh, do point me towards this poor lad.” You shook your head, sighing. “We met when we were children. I resided at court with my family and with yours.”

“Wait a second.” Arthur turned his head in recognition. His eyes lit up with a newfound appreciation. “Lady Gwen? You were the one with the hair!”

That description made you frown. It felt like you hadn’t escaped your past when Arthur used to tease you like the prince he was, kept pulling on your hair when you were both children. Having enough of his mocking, you pushed him back until Arthur dropped into the water.

With a huff, you stood up and started walking briskly away from the male nuisance. There was a reason why you preferred the solitude of the forest.

Light-hearted chuckles remained in the distance while Arthur stared at you in admiration. “Still as feisty as I remember.”

You sighed when the sounds of the flutes and string instruments echoed in the cave. The deeper you wandered inside; the music became clearer.

You stroked the hair behind your ear.

For some reason, Goosefat Bill considered it a good idea to have a night of singing and dancing to build up morale among the crew. You still didn’t like it that you had to dress up for the occasion and abandon your chemise and leather pants you wore while in hiding.

You exhaled deeply when you entered the cave. Many groups of people stood around the campfire while others danced in pairs.

Arthur sat on a wooden chair near the cave walls and sipped at a jug of beer. The moment he saw you, he did a double take once he began to recognize you with the unfamiliar clothes.

With his eyes shining, Arthur called out merrily, “Princess. Almost didn’t recognize you with a dress. Tell me, what happened to your trousers, my Lady?”

The gall of the conceited prince.

You stepped closer towards him until you were standing next to him. Seeing him staring up at you with his head thrown back to fully gaze at you.

“How is your shoulder?”

“Wonderful. Unless you want to tend to it, then I’m feeling utterly miserable.” Arthur pouted his lips.

He placed his hand on his hip as he slowly stood up like a jungle cat. With lazy movements that made your stomach stir with wanton emotions, he inched closer to you until your hips almost brushed together.

“Thanks for the inquiry. You do care after all. There’s no need to hide your feelings from me, you know? You can just admit how much you secretly want to see me naked and have a tumble under the sheets.”

You cleared your throat before the sound turned into an exhale. “In your dreams, Pendragon.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be proper to tell you what kind of dreams I’m having of you.”

You turned your head in fascination. “You care about propriety, since when?”

“Oh, you naughty princess. Someone wants me to talk dirty to her after all.” Full lips shifted into an indecent smirk. Arthur tipped his head forward until his hair hovered over his eyes before he stroked it back.

You sighed. “As if you could handle that.”

A ruthless idea formed in your head when you eyed his beer.

You teasingly took the pitcher from his hands. Taking a huge gulp from his alcoholic drink while sending him a molten gaze.

Arthur swallowed before he replied with a raspy voice, “You don’t know what I could take.”

You hummed. You pushed the now almost empty jug against Arthur’s chest which he cradled with his hand without averting his gaze from you.

“Well, I’m going to have just the minimum of fun and dance with the mage.”

Without missing a beat, Arthur stepped forward. A move that even stunned you. “May I be of assistance, my Lady?”

“Oh, manners. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” You patted his chest, including his prominent pectoral muscles, just for the fun of it. The touch turned into indulgent and distracted stroking for a few seconds too long before you reminded yourself to swiftly turn around to walk away.

But you still heard the taunting voice of Goosefat Bill. “Admiring your work, Arthur.”

“Sod off, Bill,” Arthur grumbled angrily.

“Put him out of his misery. It’s distracting him,” the mage whispered.

You held her hand while twirling around her with the practised steps. One thing your upbringing taught you was to adapt. After a while you got used to the fun, casual dances.

“Oh, please. He can take it. Besides, he’s a man. Everything distracts them.”

The mage tilted her head and watched you with a blank, brown-eyed gaze. “You intend to ignore your fate with him as well?”

“I’m not Queen material, mage. And I can’t even stand Arthur most of the time.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Arthur loves to ruffle your feathers and a part of you wants to-”

“Hit him over the back of his head? Tease him right back after all these years?” You continued for her.

“You mean as a shield to hide yourself behind? How is that working out for you?”

You stared blankly at her. “I don’t appreciate your matchmaking, mage.”

“You’re forcing me to it if I want to see that fate becoming real.”

“Perhaps Merlin was wrong,” you stated anxiously. Knowing that Arthur was your future rattled you on a whole different level.

The mage raised unimpressed eyebrows. “You dare to utter such blasphemy? And what about the Lady of the Lake? Is she wrong, as well?”

The air turned tense with silence. It only got worse, the longer it prevailed.

You clenched your jaw at the reminder of what the future was holding-

“Are you ladies having fun without me?” Arthur swooped in with his typical swagger. “You mind if I cut in?”

You opened your mouth when the mage’s answer stopped you in your tracks.

“No minding here.”

Without another word, she glided away like an elegant dancer, stunning you for a second at the audacity as you stared after her.

Arthur’s lips twitched with the widening of his eyes in astonishment at the mage’s gesture. “I knew I liked her for a reason,” he mentioned before turning back to you, offering the palm of his hand. “Dance with me, Lady Guinevere.”

You sighed, finally surrendering to your fate. “Who am I to spoil the evening?” You rhetorically asked before placing your hand in his.

Arthur smiled and bowed almost mockingly low.

As soon as he stood upright again, you teased him right back by saying, “I hope you know your steps, Arthur.”

The moment you lifted your arm, not only did Arthur interlace your fingers together, but he also pressed your folded hands to his chest.

Damn you, Arthur Pendragon. You and your heartbreak eyes and your cheeky ways.

Arthur’s unaccustomed tendencies kept you on your toes when you were forced to step closer until you stood inches away from him. And Arthur’s breath ghosted over your forehead.

“You’re not moving. You’re supposed to move,” you mumbled under your breath.

Like he was uttering a secret just between you, Arthur whispered, “Maybe I like it this way. Just standing here like this. Having you so close to me. With you not fighting me at every turn.”

You swallowed. “I am going to fight you if you don’t move.”

Hesitation warred in Arthur’s expression. “All right.”

Before you could truly process what was happening, Arthur started slow dancing with you with swaying motions and making you chuckle.

He was caressing the soft skin of your hand with his thumb while the other, stroked a curl of your hair away with admiring eyes. “See? I knew I could make you smile.”

Arthur lifted your palm to his lips to nuzzle it with his lips. His bearded jaw left tingles right to your stomach.

There was only one thought rushing through your mind while staring into those bright eyes.

Dear God, you were in trouble.

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14​ @lelapine​

[theoncomingdoo-dah]

Episode 1.1 Rose

One of the best introductions I've ever seen to a world and it's characters. I had barely any exposure to Doctor Who and this was a great starting point when I first watched it.

Rose's introduction couldn't be more perfect. We're given so much information about her in a quick succession of shots.

That also perfectly slow down when she enters the basement of Henriks. It gives this scene weight. Like her life has mostly been a fast succession of everyday living but now...something is about to change.

Billie is so pretty. That's not important to the episode but she is so pretty.

Also I forgot to mention! The shots of the window dummies in the opening Rose montage! That's such a cool detail!

Then the scene. You know the one. I don't have words it's just so perfect.

Nine's smile when Rose guesses that the dummies is a "student thing". The exact words in the Shooting Scripts is.

The Doctor smiles. He likes her.

Also that thing where Rose says it and then when the Doctor says 'Why students?' and Rose second guesses herself so she downplays her guess and he *insists* on her explaining? That's a neat detail too. Rose lacks confidence in her intelligence. The Doctor picked up on that and then gave her encouragement over her explanation. Just. 🥺🥺🥺 That's such a small detail but I love it.

It's sad that Christopher doesn't think he can do comedy because the absolute dead pan way Nine talks in the scene where he says "Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life!" is hilarious to me.

Also Rose's absolute frustration in this scene is equally hilarious.

Jackie! I love her. And Rose hanging up the phone. Iconic scene.

I genuinely feel like Mickeys introduction would've been better if it went like it did in the novelization with his friends. :L

I like how it portrays their relationship though. It's not perfect. It seems happy but at the same time, it seems like Rose is doing alot of compromising and giving more than her partner.

Nine looks so offended when Rose pulls him inside her flat. xD

"Anything could happen." ".....no." Iconic.

The Turn Of The Earth speech still gives me chills. Not to mention that little snippet of music that's gonna be become MUCH MORE important as the series goes on. Except this time it's accompanied by snare drums. Sounds very militant. OOOOH THATS CLEVER.

Clive and the shed scene are so much more fleshed out in the novelization. It serves it's purpose here but in the book he gets a backstory and a reason *why* he's so fascinated with the Doctor. Also we got Rose calling the 5th and 8th Doctors hot. Thank you RTD, very cool.

PIZZA.

"Is that it then, dishing out chips?" Well unfortunately for you, Rose...

Eyyyy Jimmy Stone mention. Bastard. He also gets a bit more fleshing out in the novelization.

Intro to the nu TARDIS. She's seen better days, and it's a far cry from 8s GORGEOUS interior. But she looks the part, alien, mysterious, fascinating.

Nine seems anxious to see this fascination from Rose. And even asks "Is that alright?" after mentioning that he's alien. He really does care, sometimes. 🥺

I freaking LOVE how Nine cannot stay mad at Rose. He goes from ranting about saving every stupid ape on the planet to gushing about his Police Box. "It's a telephone box from the 1950s. 😊 It's a disguise. ☺️" Then, "Antiplastic. 😀 ANTIPLASTIC! 😄"

FANTASTIC!

ROSES GIDDY ASS GRIN WHEN SHES RUNNING HAND IN HAND WITH NINE AAAAAAA

"The breast implants." Ah yes, Rose the bi disaster coming in clutch.

Goddamn Christopher knows how to portray the pain and regret of Nine in the scenes with the Nestene. He's almost got tears in his eyes when talking about the war.

Also Clives death scene is so much more poignant and tragic in the novelization.

the shot where Nine is restrained and Rose is by the TARDIS, above him and in the light, yeah. Yeah that's a nice shot. 👌

You cannot fathom my disappointment that the second turn of the earth scene is not actually in the show and is only in the novelization.

Nine actually acknowledging that Rose saved his life. 🥺

And looks genuinely disappointed when Rose says no to going with him. 🥺🥺 (Yet again, novelization kills it in this scene)

And the utter JOY Rose has when he comes back. 🥺🥺🥺

Final thoughts!

READ THE DAMN NOVELIZATION OF ROSE IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY!!

[fivveweeks]

I am so sorry to bother but I’ve been FERAL for your shit since like. Ever, lmao. I just gotta know how you imagine the smut going down between Brassius and Hassel is?? Bc like before I binged your fics I was like “hmm maybe they switch??” But you’ve converted me to the “whiny needy Hassel who lets reader wring 3 whole orgasms from him and they haven’t even touched his ass” camp. And now with brassiusxhasselxreader??? My good Buddy you are KILLING ME

haha thank you so much for enjoying my fics!!! tbh bottom pathetic men is like one specific thing im into so any men that goes into my gdocs comes out... destroyed i guess LMAO welcome to the service top/soft dom camp

the funny thing for Hassel x Brassius is that they're both Switches to me too! for me it depends on the mood I guess. I see Hassel as a service top and Brassius as a power bottom usually. Brassius can also top when he brings out the ropes and wrecks Hassel either by fucking him or riding him lmao. basically he has a vision to fulfil and by god he’s gonna achieve it. Brassius is used to giving instructions (he probably enjoys watching too) and Hassel will gladly follow them to the letter

I also think Hassel can top! c'mon, that teacher/elite-four/dragon clan's eldest vibe... + the long fingers combo to hold you down by the neck... he comes off as a soft dom to me most of the time (maybe he disciplines Brassius when he’s neglecting his health from all the all nighters and events) but on the off chance you manages to sorta piss him off (super duper rare) he can really slowfuck you into the wall until you pass out

but no matter what position or role i put them in I follow a few personal rules and it’s that Hassel will ALWAYS CRY. man’s like a leaking facet and gets overwhelmed easily, even if he’s topping he’ll shakily sob into the back of your neck the moment he comes. followed by BITE and differing levels of being needy and whining

for Brassius the rule I follow is that he never shuts up! he runs his mouth very often tbh he definitely praises and compliments easily, but he can degrade or mock if that’s what you want? (he defaults to the former most of the time tho). and like Brassius, Hassel is equally noisy and loud but his is more of moaning and sobbing instead of words

(so whoops I don’t have a specific vision for how it goes down for them both bc I like all of them!!! I’m a greedy bastard and saw too many jp fanart and all the possibilities and they’re all… great!!! it just really depends on the scenario hehe as long as it builds up to the porn part I generally just enjoy it)

for Brassius x Reader x Hassel it’s fascinating to me bc on one hand I can fulfil my delusions of having the both of them breaking down from you at the same time OR you work w one of them to make it good for the other OR I can make them both team up seamlessly to wreck your ass. but only after enough plot and interaction bc my stupid brain needs to be warmed up ughhhh

[gothic-mutt-rambles]

Anxiety is a truly beautiful thing, it keeps you safe, aware, and ready but sometimes the poor beast gets too excited. When they suffer you do. Anxiety is like a stupid fucking needy child, calm the heart rate, breathe, stop shaking, I want my blanket, I want my bottle ass motherfucker. I hate them sometimes, but within the anxiety and panic there’s peace. There’s them forcing you to stop and notice what’s around you, or making you get a breath of fresh air so you get to see the first peaking of dawn. Or you meet a lil cat who’s just chillin with you, enjoying the calm, enjoying the quiet. Do I wish I could live without him? Yes absolutely, but I’m glad I have my anxiety, even when they turn to panic.

It’s a beautiful morning, warm and mild but a crisp breeze makes me just barely shiver. The sky a pale grey, the aloe vera stupid, sharp, and green as always. The palm trees dancing in the breeze and one sleep deprived mutt. (Me) As much as I hate the 100°+ days I find a joy in the nights here. It’s tropical without being humid, it’s warm in all the right ways, and it makes me love my cold bedroom even more.

I haven’t had time to write or feel recently with all the stress of making rent, and getting grocery money. It’s been annoying, writing was my first love and I’ve abandoned him without meaning to. I used to write beautiful poems and stories, create complex worlds and beings to live in them, now I’m just an average guy. I mean I still draw when I get the time but even that’s turned into a way to try to make money. Man I hate capitalism.

The stupid stained rock beside me keeping me company, the smell of smoke from my neighbor, the cries of cats in the night. It’s all beautiful and peaceful in an odd way. The rumble of cars as they go about their nightly commute. The wind blowing dry leaves and dust into my face making my eyes water.

A car’s panic alarm is going off, I guess I’m not the only one panicking tonight haha. It’s kinda calming in a way, to know that this unfeeling, uncaring object is panicking, all the same as I was.

Do you ever wonder if the stars get lonely up there? Shining down on us, giving us their beautiful light. I mean the moon has the sun but who do the stars have? I guess they have each other. They have community, something a lot of humans don’t have. I feel like an outcast in my communities.

I feel like an outcast alot of the time. I feel like I’m just here not wanted, not needed. It’s a hard thought to deal with. But at the end of the day if I’m not wanted then giving those bastards my time isn’t worth it. I’ll find my people who want me one day, if not in this life then the next.

Fourteen cars have driven by me in the thirty minutes I’ve been out here. I wonder where they’re going? I wonder what stories the passengers have, or even the car themselves. Everything has a story if you think about it, and I find that beautiful and fascinating. Make that fifteen.

My story isn’t an exciting one but like all stories it deserves to be told. I may not be not be strong, or fast, or even brave but I have a story. One full of pain, triumph, and love. Maybe that’s the key, love drives us all.

It’s now 5:08a, I started this at like 4:30a and I still have more to say. Wow, when taking time to just relax and think I sure have a lot to say haha. My problem is I worry about the impossible and the inevitable. And where has that gotten me? Sitting outside after a panic attack, exhausted and deep thinking. They recommend so many contradictory things for easing panic attacks it’s funny. “Relax, distract yourself and breath” but at the same time “Let it run its course”, So what am I supposed to do? I went with the, “sit outside, get fresh air and write method” (Patton pending) it’s a rather great method ya know, you just sit outside, enjoy the night and write your heart out.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m special. Like will I make something of myself one day? I was taught if I work hard enough I can do anything (as long as I’m white and cis of course) and I am neither. Maybe I write to make an impact on someone, even if it’s just one person. Who knows.

God I’m tired, I need to go to bed. Ya know, this was good for me, all of it.

[malarki]

Harry Potter FanFiction I greatly enjoy (it’s just tomarry and sevitus)

Fair warning, I’m not good at describing stuff, and most of these are not complete (yet) but if you have similar tastes as I do then you’ll definitely like these stories.

Meddling of a Mischief Maker - by Athy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380535/chapters/12427268

I enjoy this fic because it shows a more human Voldemort with him still being an asshole as per usual. They do a good job of having Voldemort believably change into a not crazy murderous bastard haha. It also has Sirius interacting with Voldemort and for some reason I find those scenes hilarious in any fic I read.

“Harry's being a horcrux is a bit reworked here in this AU Story set during the summer after 5th year. A Mischief Maker intervenes in the Ministry during Voldemort and Dumbledore's duel, changing the course history. MorallyGrey!Dumbledore, Sirius, Restored Souls, HP/TR”

Draw Me After You (Let Us Run) - by ToAStranger @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327684/chapters/53334382

This story is a delight, it’s tone is very good and they do a great job of writing in the characters ‘voices’ for their pov’s. I especially like the posh way Voldemort talks and acts. This story is also hilarious on top of just being a very good slowburn, AND it has Sirius, which as you might have guessed, I love dearly. They also don’t bash any of the characters, and instead make them well rounded but flawed individuals, which I really appreciate.

“Harry Potter,” comes the soft, sibilant hiss of a voice he has heard in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his waking hours for years.

Slowly, carefully, Harry twists over and pushes up onto his hands and knees. He stays there, short breath fogging in front of his face, and his pursuer lets him. Harry has no doubt of that; he’s being allowed this respite. This small moment to catch his bearings, heart pounding in his ears, blood singing.

“It seems I have finally caught you.”

Consuming Shadows - by Child_OTKW @childotkw

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040089/chapters/16011331

I’ve read two of childOTKW’s fics and both of them are fantastically written and attention grabbing stories. This one was the first one I read, and it has a very interesting take on lily Potter (one which I really enjoy) and the plot can leave you on the edge of your seat at times. The characterization is great, and the process of Harry and Tom getting to know each other is done very well.

“His attention skipped passed the students and moved to the politicians’ pavilion. His gaze locked with crimson, and he nearly faltered under the sheer hunger in those eyes.

It unnerved him how fixated the man was on his dirtied, exhausted figure.

But what troubled him more was the slight smirk he could make out on the man’s lips. It was almost pleased.

On the night of the attack, Lily managed to escape with her infant son, but at the cost of her husband’s life. Distraught and distrusting of her friends, she fled to France with Harry, to raise him away from the corruption in Britain and the rising influence of the Dark Lord. She trains him to the best of her abilities, shaping him into a dangerous, intelligent and powerful wizard.

But when Britain re-establishes the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry is forced to return to his once-home, he finds himself questioning whether he really wants to kill the Dark Lord. Voldemort finds an unexpected challenge in the child, and as his intrigue and amusement grows, so too does the desire to possess the spark in those defiant green eyes.”

A story that is kind of similar but not really: The Train to Nowhere

You Belong To Me (I Belong To You) - by child_OTKW

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270490/chapters/25203408

This is a story inspired by the manwha ‘At The End Of The Road’ by Haribo. A comic I read before reading this, which is very good I recommend it. They do not take the exact plot from the comic though, obviously changing significant details for it to work properly as a Tomarry Fic, but one main thing stays the same, which is that this is a body swap. Honestly I really enjoy childOTKW’s works, and this is no exception. The characterization is wonderful as always, and Harry is Fantastic. Plus I’ve always been a fan of time travel fics. (Fair warning this is another slow burn and Harry centric)

“What I find absolutely fascinating,” Riddle said, stalking closer, “is you.” He marched forward, backing Harry up until he was pinned to the cool wall of the common room. “Do you know why?”

“No. And I’ll be honest here, Riddle, I don’t particularly care.”

The taller boy grinned at him, small yet infinitely pleased. “That. Right there.” One hand rose and brushed some of Harry’s fringe from his face. “Nathan Ciro was a spineless little boy too afraid of his own shadow to dare even glance in my direction. But you…”

He leaned closer, “You look at me like you want to stab me.”

“After an accident, Auror Harry Potter wakes up in the body of fourteen year old Nathan Ciro, a tormented Slytherin who recently tried to end his own life. Seeking answers to his strange predicament, Harry returns to Hogwarts, and causes quite the stir through staff and students - especially when they come to realise he is not the same boy as before.

He tries to avoid suspicion, but as his quest for the truth draws more and more attention to him, Harry begins to think that he might not like what he will discover.”

Some Bonus AU tomarry

A Thousand Paths Among The Stars - by Haplessshippo @haplesshippo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015060/chapters/27191238

This is a star trek au and it’s honestly my favorite tomarry au fic. Granted, I am a huge sci-fi fan. There’s also a bit of a twist at the end, or at least it surprised me, due to the way we usually expect tomarry plots to go.

“Harry Potter, newly appointed Captain of the Marauder and son of the famous Captain James Potter, was falling apart at the seams. His crew didn’t respect him, he was lost in the empty expanse of space, nightmares plagued his sleep, and his Commander deserved the Captain position more than he did. Good thing multiple attempts on his life and a vicious warlord after his head was all it took to turn it all around.

Alternatively, that space fic in which Harry Potter almost dies too many times, Tom Riddle slowly becomes the most smitten fool on the ship, and the rest of the crew are all just a bunch of assholes with popcorn watching the show. And exploding ships, don't forget the exploding ships.”

The Matchmaker - by TanninTele

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507676/chapters/38664089

I am ALSO a huge true crime fan, and this story has a criminal that kinda reminds me of one that might appear in Hannibal (but with less murder). I enjoy the characterization, though tom is pretty tame in this compared to more cannon fics, considering he’s not the criminal and instead an investigator. Harry is also different from how people usually portray him, but I still like it.

“'The Matchmaker' is a serial abductor whose modus operandi consists of pairing two same-sex individuals together in a coffin, six feet underground - buried alive. He isn't a killer. He's a kidnapper with morals, and Detective Chief Inspector Tom Riddle finds himself obsessed with solving the case.

Unfortunately for Tom, the Matchmaker is just as intent on knowing him.”

And on to the Sevitus Stories

Far Beyond A Promise Kept - by oliversnape

https://archiveofourown.org/works/547431/chapters/974693

A classic, Harry stays with snape and unintentionally proves all his assumptions wrong and makes snape care about him. Both the stories have this aspect, but this one has snape a bit nicer from the get go. Probably because it takes place during the third book, so they’ve only known each other two years. It’s quite wholesome though, and I rather enjoy the progression of their relationship.

“Snape never wanted anyone to know of his promise to Dumbledore, but has realised that he can protect Potter much better by taking a less passive role in the boy's training. Actually liking Harry Potter has never been part of his plan. mentor/guardian.”

Crime And Punishment - by melolcatsi

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102232/chapters/58018174

Snape and Harry have way more of a rocky start in this one, and Snape having to pick Harry up from the police station Really Doesn’t Help Snape’s opinion of him. This story very realistically shows the progression of their relationship, going from enemies to family, and near the ‘end’ (it’s not finished) it becomes very wholesome with Snape trying to help Harry with his mental and physical health after years of abuse/ neglect.

“Harry is accused of burglary. The Dursleys leave him to rot. Dumbledore sends Snape to remedy the situation. Harry finds himself in the care of an irate Snape. Not slash, gen-fic w/ focus on Sevitus relationship. Angst galore. Warnings: coarse and suggestive language, mentions of abuse/neglect. Un-betaed and un-Britpicked.”

[vintagegeekculture]

The Chinese Cultural Inspirations for Dragon Ball Z and Super

Journey to the West was only the beginning. 

A lot of people are vaguely aware that Dragon Ball was inspired by Chinese culture and Hong Kong Kung Fu movies and novels, but are unaware of how deep and long lasting it goes. The Japanese spent the 1980s fascinated by China, which opened up from being a closed society for decades in 1978; the most famous human being in Japan in the 80s was either Michael Jackson or Jackie Chan. 

In fact, a lot of people commonly believe that the Chinese action movie and Kung Fu novel cultural and media influence on Dragon Ball ended very early on. This is untrue. Sure, we started to see qipaos and cheongsams less frequently when they headed to West City, but it absolutely did not finish, because there’s tons of influence to see even as impossibly late as Dragon Ball Super. Interestingly, I don’t think any of these point of inspirations have been pointed out before, mainly because a lot of Chinese adventure novels are simply not available in English. 

 The Piccolo/Gohan plot was inspired by the Chinese action novel “Heavenly Sword and Dragon Sabre.”

Okay, tell me if you’ve heard this story before: a truly demonic, weird looking monster villain is defeated by a martial arts hero, but by circumstance, is forced into training his greatest enemy’s young son. The villain trains the young boy, the son of his enemy, in martial arts and over time, becomes like a second father or uncle to him and his family, putting the boy in his “evil” sect, and thanks to his love of his rival’s son, this baddie turns over a new leaf and goes from evil to just…grumpy, and becomes a loyal, though gruff, ally of the boy.

Of course, the events of Heavenly Sword and Dragon Sabre are a bit different from Dragon Ball in details. The Lion King becomes Wuji’s teacher because they are both stranded together on an island after a shipwreck, for instance, and he is blinded and made vulnerable. Also, the Lion King wasn’t so much evil so much as he was misunderstood by the orthodox martial world. However, in broad outlines, this trajectory for a face turn (becomes friends with his greatest enemy’s son, and becomes like a second father to him as he trains him, causing the villain to become a gruff good guy and ally) is essentially from one of the most famous Chinese novels ever written in the 1960s. 

Oh, and while we’re at it, Gohan is likewise inspired by another character from a Louis Cha novel: the Prince of Dali Duan Yu in the Kung Fu novel Demigods and Semi-Devils. The Prince in that novel is a naïve, pacifistic scholar who prefers books to fighting, and who was raised to be timid and avoid combat, absolutely out of step with his family, all of whom are martial artists and warriors. In fact, the beginning of the story is the prince gets incredibly lost in the wilderness, where the hopelessly naïve prince is utterly out of his depth, with all the robbers and scary beasts, and needs to be saved by real martial artists that protect him like fairy godparents. He spends the first part of the story running away from everything, scared as hell. However, by circumstance, he has naturally high power he cannot fully initially control, and eventually realizes that even scholars and others who hate fighting have to sometimes become fighters to protect those they love.

The Duan Yu part of Demigods and Semi-Devils was made into a film, the Battle Wizard, which was reviewed by PewDiePie. The Dragonball similarities went over his head because, honestly, PewDiePie does not strike me as a perceptive person. 

 Hit was based on the screen persona of Chow Yun Fat.

Chow Yun Fat was a Hong Kong cinema superstar who was to director John Woo what Robert de Niro was to Martin Scorsese. There are three giveaways that Hit was based on Chow Yun Fat. One, he’s an assassin, same as Chow Yun Fat’s character in the Killer, and is even given a sequence that’s a John Woo homage with an assassination in an office building with guns pulled on an empty elevator in an act of misdirection. Second, he’s wearing the single piece of clothing Chow Yun Fat is associated with, a black trenchcoat (fun fact: in Hong Kong today, trenchcoats are called Brother Mark Coats, after Chow Yun Fat’s character in John Woo’s A Better Tomorrow). Third, his power is essentially bullet time, a visual technique refined by John Woo in Hong Kong in the 80s and 90s in his gunplay triad movies starring Chow Yun Fat (what, you think the Wachowskis invented it?).

 The Goku/Vegeta relationship is from “Legend of the Condor Heroes.”

Here’s a story you might have heard before. It’s about two rivals, but by circumstance, one is raised in the wilderness beyond civilization, where he becomes an honest and goodhearted, though overly naive bumpkin, martial arts prodigy. The other is raised a wealthy prince by a conquering enemy, who grows up to also become an armor wearing martial arts expert, but also a cunning, arrogant, emotionally distant sociopath.

The similarities go into their love lives, too. The unsophisticated bumpkin hero is betrothed to a daughter of a powerful bearded barbarian king against his will, while the one hint of vulnerability and loss of emotional detachment in the otherwise sociopathic prince, the crack in his smirky arrogance, is that he loves a girl he otherwise pretends to hate, and even fathers a child with her who becomes a main character later.

This is Guo Jing and Yang Kang from Legend of the Condor Heroes. The most fascinating similarity, and proof that female psychology is the same all over the world, is that the fangirls love the emotionally distant, arrogant, and sexy/evil prince (remember when Rhonda Rousey said her first crush was Vegeta?). Girls everywhere love bad boys and sexy villains, and oh boy, do they love Prince Yang Kang. I think you can probably guess who all the fan art is about for Legend of the Condor Heroes, and what ship is the most popular.

I have to emphasize that Legend of the Condor Heroes, which came out in the 1950s-60s, is possibly the most widely read novel by the most widely read novelist on earth - the sales on that dwarf Twilight and Harry Potter. It’s probably not an exaggeration to say nearly every Chinese person, even if they never read it, knows who these characters are. In fact, Yang Kang and Guo Jing from Condor Heroes are basically repeated over and over in Asian, Chinese, and Japanese culture. Does the unsophisticated but gifted martial arts prodigy bumpkin hero, and the glib, arrogant wealthy prince rival remind you of….another duo of rivals?

Gohan/Videl comes from Little Dragon Maiden

One of the most important and influential Martial Arts novels of all time is “Return of the Condor Heroes.” A sequel to Condor Heroes, this time, the main character is the teenage son of one of the main characters from the first novel. It gets even more familiar from there.

“Return of the Condor Heroes” was about a martial arts couple who are also master and student, the same age but vastly different in experience and skill so one somehow seems “older,” and they fall in love because the circumstances of training together requires they spend lots of time together and become intimate. The training story and the love story are exactly the same in “Return of the Condor Heroes.” The dead giveaway one story inspired the other is that in both, the most significant training sequence is one where the master teaches the student how to fly (though Return used a chamber of sparrows for lightness Kung Fu).

There are some differences of course – obviously in Return of the Condor Heroes, the genders of teacher and student are flipped from Gohan and Videl (it’s the Little Dragon Maiden who is a powerful teacher, and the boy who is the student). It was the girl (Videl) who was a rebellious delinquent in Dragon Ball Z, when it was the opposite in the novel, true. But it was obvious this story was in the back of the creator’s mind as a way to combine Kung Fu with the love story, by making teacher and student lovers.

Addendum: hey, remember that awesome movie Kung Fu Hustle, the one Hong Kong movies normies have seen? Well, remember the landlord and landlady? The landlady was named Xiao Lung Nu, or Little Dragon Maiden, and her husband was named Yang Guo – the same as the main characters in Return of the Condor Heroes. It was a joke that went over the heads of Westerners, by giving these names of attractive and naïve young people in love with each other to a surly, bitter, arguing and chain smoking middle aged couple who don’t give a damn.

 Going Super Saiyan comes from “Reincarnated” aka “Bastard Swordsman.”

Stop me if this sounds familiar: a terrifying warlord tyrant prone to killing underlings who displease him has achieved a level of skill and cultivation so tremendous nobody can stop him. But there is one, and only one, thing he fears and that can defeat him: a long-lost legendary skill that nobody has achieved in recent memory, that includes a supernatural combat power transformation that turns the hair light to indicate it worked.

This is “Silkworm Skill” from Reincarnated aka Bastard Swordsman, a novel and TV series from Hong Kong in the early 1980s. Of course, there are differences. To get the power boost and new hair color, the hero has to jump in a cocoon he weaves himself. In fact, the scene is so well known that they actually have it on the poster.

(To those saying “Super Saiyan turns your hair blonde, not white” my response is that it turns hair white, or uncolored, in the comic book.)

The idea of your hair turning white to indicate a new supernatural combat transformation or martial state wasn’t created by Bastard Swordsman, though – though it is the best example and probably the one most familiar to a 1980s audience due to the hugely popular books and TV series. For an older example, a famous Chinese movie based on a folktale is “Bride With the White Hair,” about a bride who’s hair turns white when she is betrayed, in her anger, she becomes less a woman and more a supernatural creature of vengeance (interesting that anger should be the means to unlock it).

[duskamethyst]

love.

a/n: happy valentines day! have this spicy content for now but if you’re looking for high-cocky bastard-suna, this ain’t it. sorry.

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

warnings: soft dom, orgasm denial

pairing: pro!suna x f!reader

summary: suna got you a gift for your anniversary. wonder why he likes it so much..

“hm? a bracelet?” you take out the shiny jewelry out from the crimson box, inspecting it in your hands. there’s a letter ‘R’ that gleams with its rhinestones and a bell that chimes as you jiggle it. 

“close,” your boyfriend smiles when he catches the fascinated look on your face. “it’s an anklet.”

suna takes the ornament from you and drops down to his knees to fasten it around your ankle. he takes a good look at it, pondering briefly over how he made a good choice to get it for you as an anniversary gift. 

you look over your ankle intriguingly, shaking it slightly to hear the bell ring in response. 

“it’s so pretty!” you beam excitedly and kiss him in thanks as he raises back up on his feet. “then you have to put on the perfume i gave you too.”

suna raises an eyebrow, “perfume?”

“shit–” your hand flies over to cover your mouth instantly by reflex and you shake your head. “i didn’t say that.”

your boyfriend laughs as he takes the nicely wrapped present and shakes it in a feigned attempt to figure the not-so-mysterious content, “gee, i wonder what it could be.”

“oh, i don’t know. guess you have to find out.” you reply in the same sardonic tone, suppressing giggles as you watch him rip off the paper unceremoniously. 

suna blinks once, twice at the box and glances at you before looking back at the box that is engraved with a name that he’s aware to be high end. he’s not very materialistic but he knows for sure that it costs more than you can afford for yourself and the thought of you forking out so much money on it makes his heart swell. 

“well?” you grin sheepishly as you wait for him to say something. 

“babe, this is..” he sighs, brushing a hand through his brown locks. “how did you even–”

“don’t mind that! put it on!” you chide.

suna shakes his head and chuckles as he opens the packaging to pull out the expensive bottle. he takes off the lid and takes a whiff of the manly scent, yet has no idea what the contents are. he guess he should wear it often if you like the scent so much, especially since you’re the one who chose it for him. he sprays the cologne on his wrist and rubs it with the other before applying it on the back of his ears.

you don’t remember how many bottles it took to find the one that you absolutely would like on him but you know you’ve made the right choice when the aroma has proven to suit his character very well; sexy and alluring.

“you smell so fucking good.” you sigh in content as the scent begins to fill your senses.

“is this your way of saying that i always stink?” he forces an offended frown but the slight upturn at the corner of his lips tells you it's only superficial. 

“yeah, you reek. especially after your practice.” you tease before suna envelops you into a warm hug. 

“but i won’t wear it to practice.” he mutters as he caresses your hair gently. “it’s a waste if the guys are the only ones who are going to smell it.”

“that’s fine. you can always wear it around me.”

suna pulls away to look at you, blankly staring at you with his dark and narrow eyes. “and, you shouldn’t be giving me expensive stuff. i won’t even mind if you didn’t get me anything. you’re more than enough for me.”

“but–” 

“no buts.” he places a small kiss on your lips. “still, thank you for this.”

you smile and counter back with a kiss, “happy anniversary, rin. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he taps your nose with his finger before picking you up off your feet and cradling you in his arms, making you squeal in surprise. “now that we’re done with that, time to put that to the test.” 

“put what to the test?” you look up at him with curiosity as he carries you towards your shared room, leaving the empty plates of your homemade dinner behind. 

“why do you think i got you something with a bell on it?” he grins slyly before throwing you on the bed and causing the bell around your ankle to chime from the result of the impact. 

warmth creeps up to your cheeks as you put one and one together, “you wouldn’t..” 

“oh, yes i will.” suna climbs on top of you, pale yellow irises swirling like flames as he gazes deeply into your eyes before leaning down to slip his tongue past the barrier of your lips in an amorous kiss. your hands find their way to his nape, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

suna swallows down your moans as he hastily works on taking off all his lower garments and grinds his erection against your sex, soothing the throb that he has been keeping inside his pants the moment he put on the ornament around your ankle since his mind just kept on wandering at the thought of how he has been wanting to put it on to good use. 

he breaks the kiss to plant wet, soft kisses down your throat, suckling and nibbling on the sensitive skin that he knows will have you whining underneath him while his large, calloused hands massages your mounds through the flimsy dress. 

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers against the crook of your neck as tugs down the straps off your shoulders and lets it fall on your arms. “i love you so much.”

with a little maneuvering of your arms, you manage to slip out from the band and allow suna to pull down the dress completely. your nipples harden from the cold air yet they find heat once he wraps his lips around one, tongue dancing and circling around the erected tit while he tweaks the other between his thumb and index finger that sends jolt of sensations down to your bundle of nerves.

your lips part in soft, heavy pants while your fingers seek refuge in his dark hair by tugging it lightly before he pulls away with an audible pop to suck on the other. his hand trails down on your inner thigh, drawing circles with his fingertips on the erogenous zone and purposely avoiding from tracing closer to your heated core. 

“rin.” you whine while the bell resounds from underneath as you part your legs wider and buck your hips reflexively. 

“hmm?” narrow, hooded eyes look up at you mischievously from below. suna unlatches his mouth, watching as the nipple perks up harder and becomes more swollen from his ministrations. “you’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

you feel your cheeks warm up, “i don’t know, why don’t you get down and see for yourself?”

“whatever you say, princess.” he chuckles and shifts downwards until his head is settled in the space between your thighs.

“shit, you’re really a mess down here.” he muses, thumb grazing against the dark patch that has formed on the thin fabric. “all from me just sucking your tits?”

suna tugs the sodden garment down, tongue darting out to sweep his bottom lip as his eyes dissolve into red of passion and lust. it’s more intense than you imagined, but an impassioned loop twists in your stomach as you study his next, calculated step. 

shivers of pleasure rushes throughout your body the moment you feel his warm tongue flattening against your wet slits. with skills and practiced strokes, his tongue laps off your slick greedily before teasing and sucking on the throbbing clit. your toes curl and the bell rings as you attempt to close your legs together, but suna spreads them apart from crushing his head.

his lustful gaze fixes up at you, observing every twitch of pleasure and the way your lips part in soft, needy whimpers. you gasp at the abrupt intrusion of his long and slender fingers, yet you gladly welcome him as the muscles clench to keep him within.

“does it feel good?” he whispers, kissing the soft skin of your fleshy thigh when he notices your legs tremble. 

“s-so good, rin.” you mewl, nails digging into the sheets while the fabric crumples in your fists as you find purchase. his fingers curl and drag against the spongy walls, making you keen in excitement that your hips begin to pump desperately to match his rhythm. 

“you’re so needy.” a sense of pride soars in his chest, conscious of how much your pleasure lies in him and only him. he continues rubbing and digging, somewhat in search of something; certainly the spot that he’s aware that’ll make you beg for him hopelessly. and when he finds it, he doesn’t miss the way you tense up and giving him the drive to stroke the same spot mercilessly. 

“shit– right there!” you look like you’d almost cry. the way your hips are jerking uncontrollably is telling him that you’re going to break soon and before that happens, suna draws away his fingers and you immediately throw a scowl his way. 

“what?” his voice is taunting and he wears a smirk of a victor which makes you all the more frustrated. 

you huff, “so mean. on our anniversary night, too.” 

suna lifts himself off you to get out of his shirt. no matter how much you’ve seen him bare and naked, your eyes always marvel over his toned chest and chiseled abs; those he gained along by being a professional athlete since a couple of years ago. you lick your lips to return moisture on dry skin as you watch him pump his throbbing cock in front of you while he puts on an expression of bold seduction.

“you don’t have to look so scared. you wanted to cum so bad, didn’t you?” he sneers, obviously confident over how thick his cock is and how it can stretch your tiny little hole so good.

you roll your eyes playfully, retorting in a snarky tone, “oh, i’m so scared. please don’t put that thing inside me!”

his lips curl into an amusing smile, finding it endearing how you played along with his pretense. “don’t worry, i’ll treat my princess very gently.” 

suna leans down to lick a fat strip of your essence and mixes with his saliva before propping up on his knees and dragging your body closer to him by the waist. he carefully throws the leg adorned with his gift on his shoulder and kisses on the side of your knee before fixing his dark gaze downwards, where he slowly guides and observes the way his cockhead slowly disappears into your dripping entrance. 

a low grunt rumbles in his chest as the walls suck him in deeper, clamping around him like a vice and refusing to let go as he continues to bury his cock deeper inside your pussy. your eyes flutter close, lips part slightly as you revel the way he stretches you while the veins and ridges brush against your muscles deliciously. 

“so good for me, princess.” he praises with a sharp breath, having you completely filled to the brim before he finally snaps his hips and making your body jolt in return. his pace is unforgiving and with the angle he has set you in, his tip keeps on pounding against your cervix. 

the slapping of your skins fills the cold air, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the erratic chimes from your bell that he was so eager about. an unknowing grin etches on your lover’s lips as every jingle that fills his ear fuels up his ego and he finds himself to pound into you faster while the sounds behind him follow in accordance.

“hah– rin– so deep!” your orgasm is quick to build up from the prior interruption, the muscles in your stomach begins to tighten and your legs quiver. 

“you hear that, baby? the bell telling you how hard i’m fucking you right now.“ he rams his cock senselessly to make the bell jingle wilder in a way to prove his point.

“rin– i–” 

“baby wanna cum?” he coos, smirking down at you as the image of your writhing body ingrains in his mind.

you nod your head affirmatively, face contorting in one that expresses bliss as your mind swirls with excessive gratification. yet your eyes snap open as soon as you feel a sharp sting on your thigh. 

he releases the pliant skin from between his teeth, “use your words, princess.” 

“please–” you let out a broken cry. “wanna cum–” your toes curl with anticipation as you will yourself from coming undone before you are granted to do so.

“that’s– fuck– better.” he grunts, thrusts turning sporadic as you begin to squeeze and clamp down on him. “then cum, baby. you deserve it.”

suna brings up his thumb to your aching bud, generously pressing tight circles in order to push you over the edge and a wave of pleasure washes throughout your body as you moan his name in a chant. your pussy gushes around his cock, which makes it all more stimulating for the male and he pounces harder through your high in pursuit of his own orgasm while the noisy rings from the bell soon becomes white noise.

“that’s it– you feel so fucking good.” he feels his balls tightening before his cock twitches and he bites roughly on your leg as he shoots warm load inside your tight cunt. you squeal from the pain, wiggling your leg away and he completely lets go. 

he chuckles lightly and gently rubs the dents on your skin, “sorry.” 

once he’s sure he has emptied, he pulls out his softening cock and finds his place next to your warm body. you turn to face your lover and he gladly welcomes you into his warm embrace. 

“i love you.” he whispers, pushing aside the damp and matted hair from your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

you hum in content, vision darkening as he continues to play with your hair soothingly while the sound of his heartbeat sings you a lullaby. “i love you, too.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[choerypetal]

Home. Chishiya x Reader

Summary : Chishiya is having a fascination over the reader he thought he could get away from. Only to finding out she was the light to his darkness.

Warning : None (also english isn’t my first language, however I tried my best with grammar error and plot wise)

Enjoy 💗💗

Living in the Borderland has yet to become a nightmare you wished to have never happened. The slight feeling of blood dripping on your cheek, right after pulling the trigger at the right time. Enough for the body in front of you to fall face down, now to be only described as a dead corpse.

Every minutes, turned into an hour before completely turning into emptiness. An emptiness you felt corrupted by sadness, anger and solitude. Such emotions you had never once thought to experience in your life. And yet here you were, gun gripped tightly to your fingers, trembling as your enemies fresh blood dripped lifelessly on your clothes. Leaving you not only in complete shock and pain, but in a such petty way enough for someone to catch your attention.

There he was, standing just a few doors away from yours. Examining every movement you did. Something about you being « new » felt rather to interested for him. For him you were just another toy to play with.

Chishiya was his name, you learned it through Arisu (but never had the chance to get a clear look of his apparence) and who by being protective of you had rather decided to take you with him in order to keep you safe. Sadly, being just as stubborn you were, it didn’t last you enough for you to be lost once you decided to wonder around the Borderland, once escorted.

It didn’t took long enough before you were lost. Of course you did managed to remember about a few places such as the pool and the Hatter’s office but other than that the rest came more vague almost as if every time you passed a new room you were certain something was about to happened.

Thus, taking you by surprise the moment you heard a voice. A voice to cold yet not so friendly to be even thinking of offering whoever’s owner of this room or voice an apology to their privacy and yet out of habit, you did. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t-“

“Bare me your excuses. I am surprised you even got the guts to enter into The Hatter’s bedroom. Let alone Niragi’s, better watch your step next time.”

The voice faded just as the sound of their footsteps did along. However, the moment you were about the discover the stranger, nothing but a dim light flickering and silence corrupted the room before in your turn left the room out of sight.

Having a new face in the Bordeland has become quickly the top’s news. Even the Hatter himself being as frantic as he was, managed to invite Arisu, Usagi and you at one of the first meetings for the new comers.

Feeling rather uncomfortable at Niragi’s constant confrontation and small remarks, you noticed a pair of eyes watching you. It was him. Chishiya and just as he spoke, you were back into reality. The voice back at the Hatter’s place it was his all along. The pair of brown eyes watching you from a distance, all his.

Surprisingly, it didn’t took the both of you however, to start a conversation. His soft yet cold voice of his, intrigued you too much for you to become just as interested as he was with you. He just didn’t liked showing too much emotions.

The militants who worked with him noticed a slight change into his behavior. They noticed the sudden tone on the man’s voice whenever you shared the same room and as subtle as he tried to be. Heck even Chishiya noticed something in him changed.

Either you were to blinded, or just another prey of his.

Niragi of course, being the not so subtle out of everyone, grew annoyed that his very own team mate couldn’t face the fact that maybe. Chishiya’s new distraction became a little more than that.

“You know, if you stand there like a creep. I’m not surprised she would kill you like that bastard who tried to take her beauty away.” He murmured almost sounding like a threat, making a Chishiya rather annoyed.

Days has passed and you were getting familiar with the game’s tactics. How the world was build and how fascinated you become once Chishiya told you more about it.

The both of you grew closer, not wanting to express anymore feelings to make it talked about, you both knew it was for the best. And yet something deep inside felt as if you belong in each other’s arms but such coldness separated this act.

That is when one night, you and Chishiya were assigned for a game. A game you were both against another team, a game of where the heart was trust.

Things were going as told, however you were one tonight’s target. You felt the blade quickly brushing ahead of you just as you could, get away from but it was only a lost cost. Chishiya yelled out your name but it was to late. Your vision felt blurry just enough before for you felt into his arms.

Right before your eyes you knew it was your last days, and yet your mind by faith decided otherwise. You were found in a bed, rather comfortable, your eyes meeting the harsh light from the lamps enough for the people who sat next to you notice your awakening.

The first you noticed was Arisu with a poorly made bouquet of flowers held it to you. You smiled and thanked him. “Don’t forget it was me who chosen the flowers”. Niragi said, mocking Arisu in which you roll your eyes thanking them once again before they reunited in another argument on whom was going to put the flowers in the bowl.

“I will.” A voice too familiar interrupted the little fiasco. Your eyes meeting him once again, thinking that last night was going to be your last. “Chishiya...” You spoken softly received, by a smile you never once thought from such a man as his could.

Niragi taking Arisu knowing a little too much for your liking, left for you both’s privacy and quickly corrupted by a moment of silence before Chishiya walked towards you and said. “Feeling alright?”

To be frank you couldn’t tell. Something inside you was glad to be alive but on the other, felt such emptiness that you couldn’t even comprehend it’s own cause. “I had my better days.”

You both chuckled and as he sat down next to your bed, he gently took your hand onto his, delicately pressing his soft lips on it. Frowning at his quite unusual actions, you questioned him on his behavior.

“What’s wrong?” You decided to ask, feeling such worries in his eyes but also satisfaction to the fact that you were all alive and well.

He chuckles softly as he was sinking into deep madness, thinking how he could live such weird emotions in such quick paste. “Do you ever believed in love?” He asked you and by the tone of his voice, thought to yourself that he also was just thinking how rubbish it sounded. But he insist by repeating : “Have you?”

You looked at him for a few moments, feeling the slight heat coming trough your cheeks, trying to look away before he even catches your blush. Which he on his end showed a soft smile and continued. “It’s crazy how ever since you showed up, I’ve tried to ignore you. I couldn’t technically say why you made such an effect on me and yet for some reasons I do.”

Listening to every words, you held his hand a little tighter as a source of comfort. “You know... I’ve been feeling strange emotions as well, hell even those I never knew I could experience in a life time. I guess by meeting you I could finally say you were like home..”

Home? He wondered through his mind, admiring you as if he knew that maybe loving you weren’t his lost cost into living a little longer into the Borderland and to once you both left... live a life together. For once.

“I love you, Chishiya. As much as I know you want it to push it away, the distraction I’ve caused-“

His lips brushed yours in an instant. Not letting you finish your phrase, you knew what he felt to. Maybe you both needed each other and no matter the cause, the sacrifice you’ll have each other’s side.

“See told you, now give me five bucks.” Niragi’s was heard silently watching the scene with an Arisu whom seemed rather uncomfortable and a Aguni, annoyed by his loss. Thus, making the Chishiya and you turning heads to the scene, with such glare all three new it was time to leave.

[what-is-denial-if-not-fanfiction]

Where Charles accidentally becomes Peter's dad AU

Here's Part 1 and Part 2, in case you missed!

PART 3

----

Erik's heart thudded with something he could only describe as longing. Looking at Charles and Peter reminds him too much of what he had lost- and what he could have had, should he have stayed. He was still eating in bites sitting at the table, but breakfast had long been lost in his mind.

"For the final time Peter, you aren't getting out of it. We are going to Hank and we are doing the tests," Charles said.

"What tests?" He asked.

Was Peter somehow sick? No wonder Charles has been so jumpy lately. Had he missed yet another sign staring right at him? His morose thoughts however, were nipped from the bud when Charles looked at him with those twinkling blue eyes. The last time Erik looked at Charles’ eyes were when they were at Cuba, fighting. They were dull, empty and stinging red from the tears that fell from the pain he had caused him. But this, he wanted Charles’ eyes to remain like that for as long as he lives - bright, happy and just so utterly full of Charles.

"Oh Erik! It's wonderful! If only Peter had said something from the start. He has a secondary mutation and he hadn't bothered telling me."

"A secondary mutation?" He then looked at Peter, who uncomfortably shifted under his gaze. Right. He remembers that the boy remains skittish around him - and who wouldn't after Cairo?

But of course why shouldn't the boy have something as rare? He was Charles’ son after all. Anything begot from Charles is naturally special.

--

"A secondary mutation?"

Peter wants to strangle the Professor. It would be so easy. No one would know. It would be quick and no one would be the wiser. He could probably hide the body too - it'll just take a second.

"Uh, yeah. I just didn't want to bother Hank." He glared at his 'father'.

"Well- " Erik prompts, "are you going to show us?"

Peter looks pleadingly at Charles, but Charles that bastard, only widened his grin and shot Peter a mischievous look. Oh, how he wished that the professor could read his mind - so that he could show him all the ways that his mind just came up with to dispose of him.

"It's nothing man. Hey Mags, pass me the salt would ya?" He's deflecting now, he only hopes that Erik would take the bait.

"Nonsense! It was amazing Erik, just yesterday he lifted my seat right up in the air. The entire kitchen was floating! Come now, son. Why don't you show him?" Charles was enjoying this. He was enjoying this too much and Peter couldn't do anything to call him out. Jesus, this was all his fault - if only his mouth hadn't run like it had that day.

"It's alright Charles, if Peter isn't comfortable in sharing then he shouldn't." Erik said.

Fuck.

Kudos to Mags for giving him an out - but the man looks so resigned...dissapointed - not in Peter thank goodness but in himself. How was that even possible? Alright. Just this once - he doesn't have to obvious about it, right? If he's lucky he can chalk it up to telekinesis.

"No man, it's just - I can't control it well...yet," he shrugs.

Magneto was a name true to Erik's powers that much Peter could at least relate to, unlike most parts of the iron-cladded man. Pun intended? Heh, maybe. Peter could feel the hum of each piece of metal in room, singing and reaching out to him.

He closed his eyes and attuned himself to those hums until he felt as if they were a part of him. Scattered, yes, but him nonetheless. His hands began to glow silver and soon enough, he only need pull on the strings that connected him to the rest of himself. Tugging on the cutlery that Erik was holding - he reached out and directed it up.

--

The boy was like him. The boy was emitting waves that were similarly magnetic like his own powers. The boy was metallokinetic. Erik watched in fascinated eyes as the boy floated the glowing piece of metal up then down again on his plate. He has never met anyone with the same mutation - bar, the glowing silver thing. But truly, Charles was right - it is amazing.

"You're like me. Metallokinetic."

"Yes.. well," Peter visibly shifted yet again, uncomfortable with the conversation.

"You said you couldn't control it?" He was quite confused, the boy seemed to handle it well enough.

"I can, just not well... I mean if I use it for long, it just - I dunno. Stops? I guess?"

"I can teach you." He all but yelled out. Please say yes. He wanted to be involved somehow. Charles taught him to control his own, surely he can teach Charles' son. For gratitude, repayment or atonement he didn't know what. But he needed the boy to say yes.

"I-" The boy looked at Charles, he was scared. Erik's mind concluded but Charles only looked even more delighted giving Erik at least some relief.

"If it's alright with you Erik, I would certainly like Peter here to take some lessons," Charles said as he turned to him.

"But-"

"No buts Peter. It's gone on long enough," Charles said with a firm gaze. What had gone long enough? Hadn't Charles just said that he only found out yesterday?

"If...Mags is fine with it. Then, I suppose."

"You're Charles’ son. Of course I'm fine with it."

----

Erik just found out Peter has the same powers as him. How oblivious can one man get?

----

PART 4

[kumaradosha]

I’m seeing a whole lot of bad takes and ignorance of past/present content and lack of critical thinking or ability to understand character motives regarding this most recent Dream SMP lore. So please, allow me to lay down some facts, some sense, and also some speculation of my own. This’ll be really rambly, because I’m tired, and I want to say a lot. Rewatching ALL the streaming perspectives now, my thoughts start here:

Considering Sam doesn’t want to enter the cell to dirty his hands himself, he clearly has some aversion or moral qualms about torturing prisoners, but Quackity has convinced him to go along with it. Quackity spends a lot of time before he goes into the cell repeatedly making sure Sam won’t have a change of heart and intervene, which indicates Sam probably has some misgivings. Quackity feels he has to remind Sam that this is for the greater good and to stand back and let him do his thing and that this will probably be the last time. These are all reassurances and instructions that would not be necessary if Sam were known to be totally cool with it all already.

Sam believes the stringent measures Dream put in place for the prison are just desserts for him to suffer, but Techno doesn’t deserve the same cruelty, because Techno didn’t enact those rules. And that’s why Techno gets baked potatoes from Sam, and Dream doesn’t. Sam clearly believes this harsh treatment is justified, because Dream was going to do it to someone else. He thinks he’s being just. Of course, allowing the torture, though not his idea and not really comfortable to him, was still crossing a line, considering physical torture was not something Dream did to his victims (and besides, there’s the argument that not everything a criminal has done is morally correct to be done to the prisoner regardless). That, he was convinced, was for the greater good, to get the revive book. Quackity manipulated him; he thinks he’s doing what’s best, but no, of course that doesn’t make him right or his hands clean.

Sam wanted the dog dead because it’s a security risk, especially with Quackity entering the cell with two other people. He killed it later for the exact same reason. Y’all act like nobody else has ever killed an animal in Minecraft RP; get it together. Is Sapnap also evil? Tommy? He killed his own cat. Random animals are not treated with the gravity you guys are giving them; it makes no sense to call out this one time.

When Techno raised the point that he would be fine if Quackity killed him, because Dream could just bring him back, Dream countered with his warning that Techno doesn’t want to experience death, judging by how messed up it made Tommy. What motive would he have to argue that, aside from actually caring about Techno’s well-being? If Dream was only thinking of himself, he would benefit from Techno being willing to die and be brought back to life by him, giving him an easy reason not to give the resurrection knowledge to Quackity. I honestly can’t think of a reason he would argue other than the fact that he doesn’t want Techno to die even temporarily or experience death--that he cares. Interesting...

Dream hiding in the escape tunnel to make it look like he disappeared too was 5,000 IQ, but he didn’t do it just to be silly or smart. Quackity literally threatened to kill Dream when he came back. Dream HAD to pretend to disappear, because he was legitimately in fear for his life. You saw how terrified he was when Sam found him, how he just immediately begged him not to tell Quackity. He was afraid Quackity would come back and kill him before Techno managed to come back and break him out. He believed that would be his fate and had to make a last ditch attempt to avoid that outcome.

Phil confirmed on stream that the blueprints Techno was led to via coordinates are for the prison. Not Tubbo’s missing nuke, like I’ve seen speculated.

“Steve is your polar bear” was written on stream during the “Prison Podcast” Technoblade lore. This is not a mystery. Dream said he wrote it down when Techno started talking about Steve rescuing them.

If Sam doesn’t approve of Quackity killing Dream, why doesn’t he just tell Quackity Dream is still in the prison but not allow Quackity in anymore? Quackity needs Sam to lead him inside, to let him in. Since when did he have any power against Sam to force him to let him in? I don’t understand why Sam has to keep it a secret just to keep Dream alive. Just don’t let Quackity into the prison anymore. Clearly it was a bad idea, since all these security risks happened while Quackity was getting a free pass to not follow the rules of the prison.

Dream casually walking in the way of Sam’s pickaxe to disrupt his swing once Sam almost had the bell broken gets me every time.

The rapport between c!Dream and c!Sam in prison fascinates me. Clearly Dream is much bolder with Sam than Quackity and still seems to trust his sense of duty to a degree. Sam is also more malleable, convinceable, his fatal flaw being actually listening and talking to Dream, even after it clearly messes with him psychologically. He let Quackity manipulate him, too, and he compromises too much. That might seem weird to say, considering the harsh conditions he has Dream in, but. He does give in to a few things.

I’m wondering if Dream wanted to go to the courtyard hoping it was less secure and easier for Techno to break him out of.

Sam has no reason to lie and gaslight about Dream being the one to suggest raw potatoes and sealing up the courtyard. That’s not in his character to do. So clearly Dream suggested these things. In fact, we have proof. Search for the clip of Dream revealing a teaser for future lore, with him telling Sam the hole in the courtyard ceiling for the light is a security flaw. He straight up says that. Update yourselves. Furthermore, are the recordings we have of Dream suggesting nicer features for the prison even lore? Are they in-character, or was it cc!Dream and Sam making plans? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t remember/am not sure. In any case, clearly the plans changed at some point, and they were Dream’s idea.

Dream said he didn’t realize how bad it was until after he experienced it. This could very well be a lie. However, it could also be a wake-up call. We just don’t know. Dream clearly possesses low empathy, and every person at some point doesn’t fully realize how poorly another being can feel in a bad situation. Sometimes it actually does take experiencing it yourself to realize how it feels. People can do cruel things to others before the empathy fully clicks. It is possible that Dream really does only now understand how harsh his plans were. Unfortunately, it’s just as likely he doesn’t care and is pretending to, because he has a history of acting, lying, and manipulating. We just do not know, and I think that’s part of the fun, the speculation. Note that none of this is excusing what he’s done; that bores me. I just like understanding characters and their psychology and motives.

Sam is ASKING if Dream had this prison built for Tommy. He is suspicious that that is the case. Dream did not TELL him this, because OBVIOUSLY Sam would have absolutely nothing to do with building a prison he knew Dream meant for Tommy. So no, Sam thought it was for something else. And guess what? It was. Back during the disc war finale stream, Dream told Tommy and Tubbo that the prison was originally intended for someone else (maybe multiple people, the number was not specified), but that he changed his mind and would now put Tommy in it (ha ha punny). Tubbo asked who it was originally intended for, and Dream wouldn’t tell him, preferred to keep it a mystery. Dream had zero reason to say this if it weren’t true. In fact, it would have been more impactful to pretend (or admit) he intended it for Tommy all along. Think of the horror, or even the betrayal finding out Sam, his friend, helped make it. So yes, there is every indication that it is the truth--Dream meant the prison for someone else at first.

And Dream didn’t argue with Sam’s accusations, because why WOULD he? If he didn’t tell Tubbo who it was for, he wouldn’t tell Sam now. Plus, he wouldn’t want to argue with Sam, make him more heated and less sympathetic, and risk him deciding to tell Quackity Dream was there after all. Dream has no reason to speak up. Let Sam think what he wants. Dream’s silence does not mean confirmation. This is not a new thing with him. He keeps things mysterious, and there is a lot about his planning and mindset he does not disclose.

Now, whether Dream made the prison harsher before or after he decided he wanted Tommy in it is up for speculation. We don’t know that timeline.

Anyway, Sam’s speech about Dream getting what he deserves is really delicious. All these people out here mocking Dream fans for Dream still being in prison (like Techno’s not imminently coming to break him out, hello?) and being told off by Sam, yet plenty of us are enjoying it, too, like?? Bruh, what kind of Mary-Sue-touting asshole likes characters who are flawless who never go through strife? Can’t be me. I love watching my favs through triumph AND despair, so this is all just a win for me, thanks.

It is possible to sympathize with a bastard who is highly flawed and wrong AND to understand his motivations without justifying his actions AND to realize he deserves punishment (though to what degree I don’t care to argue). All the black and white morality and taking one extreme stance of “this character is perfect!” OR “this character is wholly evil and only ever does things to be sadistic!” and polarizing the community is cringe, yo. You need to calm down. Enjoy the ride or like...get off?

Anyway, Dream is my favorite, Techno is my second favorite, I adore Sam, I really enjoy Quackity, and the SMP wouldn’t be the same without Tommy. So much love for all of this creative work and its creators. I’m having a blast.

[inexplicifics]

2. “i wish you would” + jaskel?

Eskel pauses just outside the kitchen as the low rumble of his brother’s voice is interrupted by the bard’s more melodious tones, raised now in unexpected anger. “Gods damn it, Geralt, stop teasing! Do you know how fucking hard it is not to just fall at his feet and beg him to even consider me?”

“Well, why don’t you?”

...Lambert. Jaskier must be talking about Lambert. The bard and the youngest Wolf get on like a house on fire - loudly, brightly, and with a lot of explosions. Lambert can banter with Jaskier for hours, volleying insults and jokes back and forth until Eskel is nearly dizzy trying to keep up with them. Eskel can’t possibly compete with that. He’s halfway to tongue-tied around the bard, dumbstruck by the brightness of him, clever words and beautiful clothes and the eye-catching endless fidgeting of his lovely hands. He’s managed to have maybe three proper conversations with Jaskier thus far, all of them in the library, just the two of them discussing Elven poetry and ancient playwrights and the way history changes in the telling. They’ve been really nice conversations, or at least Eskel found them so, but not...not anything like as exciting as Jaskier’s interactions with Lambert are.

And Eskel has caught Lambert and Jaskier muttering together several times by now, heads close together and voices conspiratorially low; they break off as soon as Eskel gets close, shooting him wary looks. They’ve clearly got something between them.

Lambert is the cleverest of the Wolves, bright and volatile and energetic enough to match Jaskier perfectly. Eskel is just...Eskel. Reliable old Eskel, who gets things done and keeps his head down and doesn’t make waves.

“Because - because we’re here for another three months and if he turns me down I’ll probably have to jump off a tower to escape the awkwardness, and he will turn me down, because what the hell do I have to offer him anyway? He’s so - so damned competent, and calm, and sweet, and I’m a fucking mess, Geralt, you know I am! I can flirt like nobody’s business but there’s no depth to me, and he’s - he’s all depth. Like the godsdamned ocean.” The anger in Jaskier’s voice turns all at once to dejection. “What the hell would he ever see in me?”

...That doesn’t sound like Jaskier is pining for Lambert. Lambert does have depths, yes, but they aren’t the first things anyone notices about him. And nobody in the world has ever called Lambert calm.

Eskel can’t help the sudden surge of hope in his chest, bright as sunshine.

“I think you should ask,” Geralt says.

“What, I should just go marching up to him and say, ‘Hey, Eskel, I know you’ve probably got a lot of better options including just not taking up with a disaster like me, but you’re fascinating and gorgeous and a complete sweetheart and I’d really like to kiss you’?”

Eskel pushes the door open, and Jaskier whirls at the creaking of the ancient hinges. Behind him, Geralt is smirking - he knew Eskel was there. Sneaky bastard. Eskel’s going to have to knit him some really nice socks for this.

Jaskier gapes at Eskel, mouth opening and closing for a moment without any sound emerging. Eskel takes a deep breath and offers Jaskier a crooked, hopeful smile. “I wish you would. Well, maybe without the self-deprecation.”

“Uh,” Jaskier says faintly. “You - do?”

“Yeah,” Eskel says.

Jaskier takes a deep breath, calming himself with a visible effort. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Well. I...really like you?”

Eskel steps forward, very slowly, and Jaskier doesn’t give ground, just waits until Eskel reaches him. They’re very nearly the same height. Eskel breathes in the scent of lavender soap and cloves and Jaskier, savoring it without any wistfulness for once. “I like you, too.”

“...Please don’t be fucking with me,” Jaskier whispers, eyes huge and so, so blue.

“I’m not,” Eskel promises. “I wouldn’t.”

Jaskier nods a little, and bites his lip, and takes a deep breath. “Well then. Um. Hey, Eskel. You’re fascinating and gorgeous and a complete sweetheart, and I’d really like to kiss you.”

“Funny how that works,” Eskel murmurs. “You’re brilliant and beautiful and utterly compelling, and I’d really like to kiss you, too.”

There’s a brief pause, and Geralt groans. Out of the corner of his eye, Eskel can see his brother covering his face with one hand. “Please, for fuck’s sake, just kiss already.”

“I hate to say it, but Geralt actually has a good idea every now and then,” Eskel says. Jaskier laughs, the sound ringing off the old stone walls.

“Every so often, yes,” he says, and flings his arms around Eskel’s neck, body a long line of heat against Eskel’s even through their clothes. Eskel grins and wraps his hands around Jaskier’s waist, holding him close.

He probably should have guessed Jaskier would be a very good kisser, given Geralt’s stories about the bard’s usual antics. It’s still a surprise, somehow. Or maybe it’s just that he hasn’t dared even dream of this, and now he has it: Jaskier in his arms, breathing out little sounds of pleasure against his lips, bright and eager and beautiful and real.

*

(“So what was all that muttering with Lambert, then?”

“...You have to swear you won’t tease him about it.”

“I promise.”

“Well, misery loves company, right? We were commiserating about our absolutely unattainable beloveds.”

“Lambert has an unattainable beloved?”

“...Yes, and that’s all I’m going to say about it, except that we made a deal that if one of us asked our beloved, the other one had to, too, so…”

“Then I shall look forward to finding out. But for now, shall we continue to prove I am, in fact, attained?”

“Yes, please.”)

[land-under-wave]

Like Sunshine Through the Clouds

Gakushu moves in. 

Also the conclusion to the backstory mini-arc for the Karushuu College AU.

.

.

.

Three weeks before the beginning of the semester, Isogai calls him up and says, “Your new roommate will be moving in on Sunday.”

“Eh? You found someone, Isogai?” Karma says curiously. By now, his reputation as the demon of the math department has spread far enough among the student community that even people from other schools are refusing to room with him.

Truth be told, Karma doesn’t need a roommate. His parents feel guilty enough about their perpetual absence that their monthly bank deposit is more than enough to cover his living expenses. But Isogai’s been insisting it’ll be good for him to have some company, and Karma’s bored enough that he’s figured that it wouldn’t hurt to let Isogai do what he wants. 

Plus, it’s convinced Isogai that his puppy dog eyes have some tiny effect. That’ll be good for a laugh somewhere down the line. Karma just needs to play his cards right and he’ll be able to manage something spectacular. 

“I’d give you his number, but I don’t want you to scare him off because you even meet him,” Isogai continues, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand. He may know Karma a little too well. “But he’ll show up at three.” His voice sharpens in the way only Isogai can pull off, earnest and stern at the same time. “Be nice to him, Karma.”

Karma hums. “Whatever you say,” he says agreeably.

“I mean it,” Isogai says, the consummate class rep. It’s never stopped being fun to yank his chain. “We put a lot of work into getting someone who would suit you, and he deserves better than your usual.”

“We?”

“Ah, well. I got Nakamura and Nagisa to help out.”

“You got Nagisa involved with this?” Karma says, morbidly fascinated. Nagisa doesn’t usually care about petty things like roommates or color coordination or what to have for lunch. He’s always there for the big, important things, but he kind of shrugs off and bumps his way through anything you would classify as normal. He’s weird like that, but it’s also one of the best parts about him. Karma doesn’t care much for the mundane either. 

“He also thinks you do best with something or someone to occupy your attention,” Isogai says. His voice softens, almost imperceptibly. “And we don’t have Korosensei to do that anymore.”

Karma’s eyes drop to the floor, even though no one can see it over the phone. “Low blow, Isogai,” he says.

“I know,” he says. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

On Sunday, his doorbell rings at three sharp. It figures Isogai picked a guy just as punctual as him. Karma’s reading horror manga on the armchair near the entrance, strategically positioned because he is curious about this guy that’s supposedly so suited to him, but he’s not the type to just sit around and wait on someone. Just to hammer that in — it’s never too early to begin establishing who holds the power in your relationship, after all — he waits until the bell rings a second and then a third time, much more insistently, before he gets up and saunters over to the door. 

He opens it a little wider when he catches sight of the familiar face, already looking annoyed. “If it isn’t Asano-kun,” Karma says, bringing out one of his favorite nasty little grins. He’s about to ask what he’s doing here when it clicks. “I guess this means you’re my new roommate!”

Asano, being the prissy little princess that he is, huffs at Karma and drops a suitcase on the ground. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t tell you,” he mutters. “You Class E folk seem to think you’re above the idea of communication.”

“Aw, maybe I just trust Isogai enough to let him pick for me. Ever think of that, Asano-kun?”

Asano just snorts. “No, because you’re a paranoid bastard.”

Well. He’s got him there.

“Takes one to know one, Asano-kun,” he sings back, because really, how else is he supposed to explain it? He hasn’t talked to Asano in at least two years, and hilariously, Asano’s never been that talented with people. He does great with your average citizen and increasingly worse the further you get from the norm, which meant Class E always had a ball with him.

Is that why Isogai thinks they’ll be well-suited to each other, so Asano will entertain him? No, Nakamura might think like that, but Isogai is too pure-hearted for something so cold.

The gears in his brain are whirring as he tries to work out his old classmates’ angle, but he can’t let it show, and gaps in conversation are all too obvious with Asano tapping his foot impatiently on his doorstep. Karma flashes a smile. “So why did you decide to come to live with little old me anyways?” he inquires, like he was just trying to decide whether or not he should let him in. “Does widdle baby Gakushu need someone to make sure he can take care of himself now that he’s on his lonesome?”

“Die,” Asano snaps. “Also, Isogai says to tell you you owe me five thousand yen, and you can pay him the other five thousand next week.”

Karma puts the pieces together rapidly. “Isogai used bribery?” he says, with a mock gasp. “I’m so proud of him.” And then, because he can’t resist the opportunity, he looks to Asano and coos, “You know, if you were so hard up for money to be accepting it from us lowly Class E members, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh please,” Asano says. “I was using it as a test of his sincerity. Besides, it sets a bad precedent not to accept payment for things just because you don’t personally need it. I wouldn’t want your next roommate to get cheated.”

“Whatever you say, Ga-ku-shuuuu.”

Asano levels a flinty glare at him. “I regret this already,” he says flatly. He drags open the door and starts hauling his luggage inside. 

It’s only when he’s watching Asano stomp inside that the memory of just how stubborn he is comes back and Karma realizes Isogai just might’ve played him.