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illbegottenfaith · 6 months ago

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bad day - theo nott x reader

a visit from your boyfriend perks you up even on the most frustrating of days

a/n - my first theo nott fic! I’ve written for other fandom(s) so this was a nice change, hope you enjoy :

tropes/warnings - established relationship, a pet name here or there, nothing overwhelming, fluff, comfort, nothing 18+ but a brief alluding to it

word count - 1k

“Off.”

As a general rule of thumb, you were typically the clingier half of your relationship with Theo. There was something about the feel of his skin against yours and the way his touch grounded you that made you feel safe and cared for in ways you were still too embarrassed to express out loud. Theo was always happy to indulge, casually draping an arm across your shoulders and rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

However, like all rules, it came with its exception - particularly, when you were studying. You needed to focus on your work, and that wasn’t exactly possible with the delicious warmth of Theo pressed against your back or hip. For the most part, he stayed well away when you needed him to, but something about the adrenaline of Quidditch practice made him extra excitable. Which was how you found yourself pouring over a hellish Charms essay in the Slytherin common room late one night, when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle and a familiar weight rest in the crook of your neck.

“Theo, I mean it,” you whined as he slid into the seat next to yours, refusing to relinquish his hold on you, effortlessly dragging you onto his lap. Your irritation evaporated at the sight of his boyish blue eyes and his sloping smile. It was a problem, really, how you could never stay mad at him. Merlin knows his ego is bad enough as it is.

“Hey, doll.” His nose nudged yours and you finally relented, wrapping an arm around his neck as he kissed you. His face felt cool against your warm forehead, and he smelt pleasantly of some non-descript yet refreshing soap.

“My neck is killing me,” you mumbled against his lips as you broke apart. Theo leaned back to get a better look at your wan face, distractedly running a hand down your spine.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“Yes,” you frowned, “with you. Remember?”

Theo stared at you blankly. “Y/N. I’ve been at Quidditch practice for the past four hours.”

“What are you talking about? We had dinner, then we came up to the common room, and it was, y’know, freezing, and I said I needed to buy more fleece-lined tights, and you started saying something about liking me best without any tights, but then those fifth-years started wrestling each other over that game of -“

“- Gobstones?”

“Exactly!”

“Babe, that was last Thursday.”

Your face fell. “…it was. Merlin.” Theo watched, amused, as you let out a string of curses under your breath as you flipped through your planner, scowling. “It’s this stupid Charms essay that’s doing me in. I haven’t had my head on straight all week. Remember when I wore my earmuffs to breakfast on Tuesday?”

“Mhm.”

“Made a proper arse of myself at 8 in the morning. And I genuinely thought I saw you just an hour ago. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I didn’t know I was so forgettable of a boyfriend,” Theo teased, as you buried your face into your hands.

“Stop. I feel awful enough already,” came your muffled voice. Laughing, he took your hands in his own, his features softening at the exhausted look on your face.

“Rough day, baby?” You groaned, burying your face into his chest as he wrapped his other arm around you. Before meeting Theo, you took pride in how fiercely independent you were. Even now, you were more than capable of handling your daily stresses just as well as the next guy, but you still had the tendency of being tightly wound more often than not, and sometimes it just felt nice to have someone hold you while you cried about how awful life was. No one could help you or get you to decompress the way Theo did.

“Rough week, more like,” you mumbled into his collarbone. He hummed sympathetically, hand still running up and down your spine.

“You didn’t say a word.”

“It could have been worse. I thought I’d just…you know. Deal.”

You could hear the amused lilt to his voice. “Deal?”

“Deal with it. On my own, I mean.”

His hold on you tightened a fraction. “Have dinner with me.”

“Didn’t you eat before practice?”

“Hm. Have supper with me.”

“Theo.”

“What?”

You sighed. You were never one to turn in an assignment late but, Merlin - he didn’t make things easy for you.

“I really need to get this essay done.”

“So you’ll get it done. After supper. I could take a look at it for you. Or your neck. Or both.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure, because a distraction is just what I need now. You don’t even take N.E.W.T level Charms.”

“So you find me distracting?”

You pressed your lips together, biting the inside of your cheek. “Let me put it this way. If I, um, ‘have supper’ with you now, this essay will not reach Flitwick’s desk by 10 am tomorrow.”

Theo didn't look too happy about anything you were saying. “So what do you want me to do?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Like any other guy, Theo could only sympathise for so long before he was bursting with advice or solutions. You glanced at the clock, getting the distinct impression that he was valiantly trying to stifle a yawn.

“Go, leave, shoo. Get some rest, read a book, start a fight with some fifth-years, I don’t know. I just need to bully myself into finishing this. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But I don’t want to start a fight with some sticky-fingered Gobstones-playing fifth-years.”

Still, he reluctantly slid you off his lap, pressing a kiss to your forehead before briefly disappearing. He returned with a huge, ancient book whose weathered cover seemed somewhat related to Potions. He arched an eyebrow as you made a face at it.

“What’s that?”

“What’s that?” You shot back, looking greatly repulsed by the gnarly volume.

“Some light bedtime reading material,” he quipped. You watched his face nervously, the tell-tale signs of fatigue knitted into the creases of his achingly beautiful face.

“I mean it, Teddy. You really should go to bed.”

“Can’t. I’ve got a date in an hour.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m taking this really pretty girl out for supper.”

You rolled your eyes as Theo settled into his seat, cracking the disfigured tome open.

“Smooth-talker.”

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott fluff

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 months ago

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How to Find your Writing Style

Writing style - an author’s unique way of communicating with words.

An author creates a style with the voice, or personality, and overall tone that they apply to their text.

A writer’s style can change depending on the type of writing they’re doing, who they’re writing for, and their target audience.

A news journalist will have a very different style than a blogger, for example.

Elements of Any Writing Style

An author’s writing style is defined by 2 elements:

Voice: Voice is the personality you take on in your writing. It is the point of view through which you’re telling a story.

Tone: Tone is identified by the attitude that a piece of writing conveys. Writers create tone through elements like word choice, sentence structure, and grammar.

Types of Writing Styles

There are 4 main types of writing. While a writer will still incorporate their own voice in their writing, these different writing styles each have a purpose and specific audience, which dictates how an author should shape their copy:

Expository writing: Use an expository writing style to inform or explain a topic to readers. Examples of expository writing include technical writing, business writing, high school essays, and news articles.

Descriptive writing: Descriptive writing uses figurative language and sensory detail to describe a person, place, or thing to allow readers to create a picture in their mind. Descriptive writing is the style of writing most often found in poetry.

Narrative writing: Narrative style is writing that tells a story and includes elements often found in a novel or short story, like the main character, setting, and plot. It is most often used in fiction writing. Examples of narrative writing style include The Catcher in the Rye, The Color Purple, and The Lord of the Rings.

Persuasive writing: When you use a persuasive writing style, you communicate your opinion to try to influence the reader to adopt your stance on a subject. Examples of persuasive writing include cover letters, advertising campaigns, political speeches, and editorials.

Tips for Developing Your Writing Style

Whether you’re writing a novel or an article, you need a unique writing style that is distinctly you. Follow these general guidelines to help you find that style and develop your writing voice and tone:

Be original. Focus on the point you are trying to make and say it as only you can. Avoid using clichés—they lack creativity and originality and imply that you can’t think of anything else to write. Choose language that reflects both who you are and who you’re writing for.

Use your life experiences. The accumulation of unique experiences in your life have given you a distinct point of view. Incorporate that into your writing process. Let events in real life that have shaped you also inform your own work and voice.

Be present in your writing. Whether you’re developing a narrative storyline or writing a blog post, immerse readers in your story by being present when you write. Use an authentic tone. Use efficient syntax to effectively convey the details of your story.

Have an adaptable voice. While you should have a confident and consistent voice, writing styles should shift depending on what type of writing you’re doing. Different genres will work better with different types of writing styles. In creative writing, your personality will shift depending on the narrator’s perspective, and whether the story is told through first person or third person. Writing narratives with heavy dialogue, like screenplays, will require a writer to take on different styles with each character.

Step out of your comfort zone. Don't be afraid to experiment a little in your writing. While your style should reflect who you are, it should also stretch the limits of your literary personality. Incorporate a variety of literary devices to amplify your voice.

Read other authors. William Faulkner. Margaret Atwood. Stephen King. Ernest Hemingway. Each author has a unique voice, tone, and overall writing style they developed over the course of their writing career. Read some of your favorite authors as well as famous writers you’re not yet familiar with, and focus on how they use words and compose sentences to tell a story.

Write often. Good writers have a regular writing habit. The more you write, the more your writer’s voice will come into focus. One method many writers use is to have a morning journal. This daily writing ritual requires a three-page, longhand, stream-of-consciousness writing exercise first thing every morning. You’ll develop better writing skills and find your own unique style.

Hone your craft. Once you feel like you have a handle on your personal style, consider these other, more technical ways you can further improve your writing style:

Tips for Improving Your Writing Style

To be a better writer, you need to know how to be direct and clear, while also putting your own stamp on your writing. Follow these 8 writing tips for improving your style:

Be direct in your writing. Good writing is clear and concise. Lose filler words, like unnecessary adverbs and prepositional phrases, simply take up space and weigh a sentence down. Say exactly what you mean in the most direct way.

Choose your words wisely. There are many ways to write a sentence, and there are different words you can choose to convey the same idea. Always choose the simpler of two words. Use familiar vocabulary instead of lofty words from the English language. Simple words are more direct and easier for all readers to understand. Use a thesaurus if you need a little help finding a replacement or an easier way to say something.

Short sentences are more powerful than long sentences. A story loses steam with wordiness. Short sentences are easier to comprehend, something that readers appreciate. Avoid trying to pack too much into a line. Every sentence should contain one thought or idea.

Write short paragraphs. Keep your paragraphs short and manageable. Each one should consist of sentences that support the same idea. Short paragraphs are easier to digest. They also create a more visually appealing layout on the page. Academic writing often consists of lengthier paragraphs, as they need more information to support each theme. In less formal writing, shorter paragraphs are the norm.

Always use the active voice. Use the active voice and adhere to subject-verb-object sentence structure. It’s the most direct path to making your point. With the active voice, the subject is doing something, which is more exciting than the passive voice, in which something is being done to the subject. The passive voice might be grammatically correct, but it creates long, complex sentences and is a weaker way of presenting information.

Review and edit your work. Proofreading your first draft should be the first step in your editing process before you hand your story over to a professional editor. Tighten your writing, check your word choice and sentence structure, and hone your voice to improve your style.

Use a natural, conversational tone. Your writing style relies on your own, unique voice. Communicate in your comfort zone. In other words, write like you converse. Shape ideas with your original thoughts and voice, and do your best to avoid clichés. Your writing style should reflect your personality.

Read famous authors. Pick up any book by Mark Twain, and you’ll know it’s his writing simply by the tone of the story and the words he uses. Great writers put a stamp on their writing with a signature style. Along with works of fiction, read Strunk and White’s famous style guide The Elements of Style. Learning how other writers create their style. Then do the same with your own writing.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#writing style #writing tips #on writing #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #writing prompt #spilled ink #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing advice #writing ideas #light academia #writing resources

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pandapetals · 8 months ago

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Late Night

Logan's up late grading papers when you come into his office and sit on his lap.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

The hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow from Logan’s classroom spilling into the corridor. You rubbed your tired eyes, feeling the weight of the day pulling at you, but curiosity and a little concern kept you from heading straight to bed. Logan had been absent from your side for a couple of hours now, and you couldn’t sleep without knowing what was keeping him up so late.

As you approached his classroom, you peeked your head inside, leaning slightly against the doorframe. There he was, sitting at his desk, his rugged face softened by the warm light from the lamp beside him. His eyes were fixed on a piece of paper in his hand, a red pen in the other. He was grading, even though the clock on the wall clearly read 2:19 a.m.

“Can’t sleep?” Logan asked, his voice low and gruff, though he didn’t bother looking up from the essay he was marking.

“No, not when my bed is empty,” you teased, stepping into the room, your arms crossed in mock frustration.

Logan smirked at that, finally setting the paper down and giving you a slow, appreciative look. “C’mere,” he said, beckoning you with a tilt of his head. “You can sit in my lap until I’m done grading.”

You raised an eyebrow, hands on your hips. “I thought you said you didn’t need to do grading tonight. Weren’t you bragging about how far ahead you were in your work? The ever-efficient Professor Howlett?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a playful gleam in his eye. “Yeah, well, turns out some of these essays need a little more attention than I thought.” He gestured to the stack of papers on his desk with the red pen. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you complaining about your pile of unread Shakespeare analyses earlier.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not the one staying up until 2 a.m. playing professor when I’ve got a perfectly good bed waiting for me.”

Logan chuckled, his gaze lingering on you as you crossed the room, drawn to him like you always were. “If you’re offering a better alternative to these papers, I’m all ears, darlin’.”

You stopped beside his desk, leaning against the edge as you glanced down at the messy stack of student work. “Honestly, I think your students should be thanking me for saving them from whatever snarky comments you’re about to leave on their essays.”

He smirked, tapping the paper in front of him with his pen. “This one here wrote that Alexander the Great was defeated by Julius Caesar in 1540. I think a little snark is called for.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, they’re not exactly coming to my English class. I can’t fix everything, Logan.”

He grunted in response, his smirk still firmly in place. “And yet, you try. Saving kids from poor grammar and historical inaccuracies one essay at a time.”

“Well, someone has to,” you quipped, leaning down and resting your hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. “But I still think you’d be more useful in bed.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Is that a fact?”

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting his shoulder. “Yes, it’s a fact. And since you’re the history professor, you should know I don’t take facts lightly.”

He set his pen down, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “I think I can get behind that kind of logic,” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You settled into his lap, your arms sliding around his neck as you looked down at him with an exaggerated sigh. “You know, I had all these big plans for us tonight. A nice, relaxing evening. But no, you had to go and get all studious.”

Logan chuckled, resting his forehead against yours, his hands gently stroking your sides. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said, his voice a little softer now, a promise hidden in the gruffness. “As soon as I’m done here.”

You gave him a mock pout. “I don’t know if I believe you. You say that now, but then you’ll get all caught up in some ancient war and forget I exist.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a smile as he tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours. “If I’m quoting ancient wars in my sleep, you can hit me. But right now?” His hands slid up your back, pulling you a little closer. “I’d rather be paying attention to you.”

Your heart fluttered, the tiredness from earlier forgotten as you melted into his warmth, the papers and grading abandoned for now. “Well,” you whispered, a teasing smile playing on your lips, “as long as I’ve got your attention…”

“You’ve always got my attention,” Logan rumbled, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Even when I’m pretending to be a responsible professor.”

You laughed, tangling your fingers in his hair as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I think I might have to take over your class for you. Can’t have you falling asleep at your desk again.”

Logan huffed in amusement, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back. “Good luck with that. You’ve got enough on your plate without adding my classes to the mix.”

You smiled, closing your eyes and letting the quiet between you settle, comfortable and warm. “Maybe. But I’d still do it if it meant dragging you to bed earlier.”

Logan chuckled, his lips brushing against your hair as he held you close. “You’re lucky I’m already crazy about you, or I might take offense at that.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not loving all this attention, Mr. Howlett,” you teased, your voice growing softer as exhaustion finally started to catch up with you. “Admit it—you like being fussed over.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “I’d rather have you in my lap than any of these damn essays. That’s for sure.”

“Well,” you said, your eyes fluttering shut as you snuggled deeper into his embrace, “then it sounds like we’re on the same page.”

Logan’s hand came to rest on your back, his fingers tracing soothing patterns as he leaned back in his chair. “We’ve always been on the same page, darlin’. Now let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep on me.”

With a quiet laugh, you reluctantly lifted your head, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Only if you promise to follow me.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something more tender as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I have a better idea,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in that way that always sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could ask what he meant, Logan stood, pulling you up with him in one smooth motion. You barely had time to register the shift before he swept you off your feet—literally. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you let out a surprised laugh as he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Logan!” you squealed, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance. “You know, I can walk perfectly fine on my own.”

Logan’s lips quirked into that familiar smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced down at you. “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. There was something about being in his arms, the strength of him so close and the warmth of his body pressed against yours, that made it impossible to resist him.

“I swear, you’re just trying to show off,” you teased, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you effortlessly down the hallway.

“Maybe I am,” Logan drawled, his voice softening as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “But you’re not complainin’, are you?”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck. “No. I’m not.”

Logan chuckled, his grip tightening around you just a little as he carried you into your shared bedroom, the door creaking softly as it swung open. He set you down gently on the bed, your back sinking into the soft sheets, but before you could move, he leaned over you, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in.

“Logan…” you started, but the teasing lilt in your voice was quickly cut off as he dipped his head, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, warm and featherlight.

“You’ve been stressin’ yourself out too much, darlin’,” he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. “Stayin’ up late, workin’ yourself to the bone...”

You sighed, your body already relaxing under his touch, the tension you’d been carrying for days melting away. “You’ve been doing the same,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently to get him to look at you. “We’re both guilty.”

Logan paused, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—soft, but determined. “Yeah, but I’m gonna take care of you tonight,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “No more work, no more thinkin’. Just us.”

You smiled, your heart warming at his words. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his hand sliding to cup your cheek again, his thumb brushing over your lips as his eyes searched yours. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice rougher now, filled with concern. “You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “Especially now.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away—just the two of you, wrapped up in this quiet moment of shared tenderness. He leaned down again, his lips capturing yours in a slow, lingering kiss that sent warmth flooding through your chest.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke—just the steady rise and fall of your breathing, the quiet connection between you enough to fill the space.

“You know,” you whispered, brushing your fingers along the side of his face, “you’re really good at this whole ‘taking care of me’ thing.”

Logan smirked, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Told you, darlin’. I’d do just about anything for you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your heart swelling with affection for this man who, despite his gruffness and rough edges, always knew exactly how to make you feel loved.

“Well,” you said, your voice teasing again, “in that case, I’m going to need you to carry me everywhere from now on. Think you can handle that, Mr. Howlett?”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might just make it a habit.”

You laughed softly, tugging him down beside you on the bed, your legs tangling with his as you snuggled closer. Logan wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him, his hand stroking up and down your back in soothing, rhythmic motions.

As you lay there, wrapped in his warmth, you felt the last bit of stress slip away, replaced by the quiet comfort of being with him, of knowing that no matter how busy or overwhelming life got, you’d always have this—him, you, and the love that made everything else seem so much smaller.

#fluff #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #wolverine #x men wolverine #james logan howlett #x men logan #logan x reader #mcu #marvel #logan xmen #wolverine x reader #reader insert #logan x you #professor logan #professor howlett #x men #days of future past

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stonedstr8 · 8 months ago

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TOKE 'N STROKE

"Ads are getting so damn invasive." Lucas thought to himself, clicking skip on yet another pointless car commercial interrupting the video essay he was watching. "You think the algorithm would know its audience by now, I'm too gay to drive!"

He laughed a little bit at the joke, running a hand through his soft, bleached blonde hair. He was the epitome of a high-maintenance twink, with his smooth, hairless body and perfect sense of style. He was smart too and liked to boast about it, with a scholarship for his English Lit degree and being made President of his university's LGBT Chapter, which he was hoping to use as a stepping stone to become Student Body President next year.

Leaning back again in his chair he reached for his cellphone, seeing a text from his boyfriend Alex.

Alex: "Hey cutie, still busy with finals this weekend, but have time for a dinner date Sunday night?"

He smiled to himself, giving an eager text back to set it up, and to wish him well on his upcoming exams. "Ugh, I need to start studying too, Monday's going to be one hell of a final... I'll focus on it and head to the library after this video and-"

Just like that, his train of thought was interrupted again by a stupid ad, this time some obnoxious psychedelic visuals and a bad electric guitar riff blared out of his monitor. It startled him so badly that he seized up for a second, accidentally clicking the ad and being brought to their store page. "Broski's Bud's, one stop ship and shop for weed strains to fix your brain..." He rolled his eyes at the cringe marketing, getting ready to close the tab when a pop-up opened trying to tell him all about a deal he 'wouldn't want to miss out on'. "No thanks, stupid site, you can keep your Bro Buds or whatever to yourself." but every time he hit X on the popup another would open, being more and more insistent each time about new deals, until finally a desperate '90% OFF AND SPECIAL STARTER KIT AS A BONUS WITH YOUR FIRST PURCHASE' filled his screen. "FINE," he scoffed at his computer, "I'll take a look at the stupid site. My therapist suggested I try out weed to help lessen my anxiety anyways, so might as well get a good deal on it..."

Clicking the pop-up added the 'starter kit' to his cart, it was a pack of pre-rolled blunts and some sort of mystery box, but the description didn't help him understand it much either. "Get ready to step into the zone and open ur mind with this one bros, Broski's Buds bestselling strain, Toke 'n Stroke, is sure to change your life by stimulating a high never felt before! This isn't your sissy uncle's strain, this shit puts hair on your chest like a real man!"

"God this is so cringe, I bet they get all kinds of business marketing to the dumb jocks in town, no wonder their brains are mush. Still, it's just weed and for $20 I might as well give it a try, I probably won't find it cheaper anywhere else..." sitting in thought about it for a few seconds, Lucas finally filled in his payment info and placed his order, getting a free upgrade to same-day delivery since they seem to have a storefront a few miles from his apartment.

"Well, there goes my library plans I guess, I'll have to wait around for delivery since my package will probably get swiped otherwise..." Lucas sighed, turning off his computer and plopping down onto the couch, picking up his Switch to play Animal Crossing and kill time.

A few hours passed and the sky got dark before finally a long buzz came from his intercom. "Took them long enough, it's nearly 9pm!" he complained, putting his jacket on to head downstairs. When he got down there the delivery guy had already gotten into his car again, driving away and leaving Lucas to carry the package back upstairs all on his own. It was bigger than he expected, taking both hands to lift it and keep it stable. "Jesus, this thing must weight like 40 pounds! What did they put in here?"

After a bit of struggling and the occasional break to catch his breath, Lucas pushed his package into the living room, collapsing on the floor next to it for a while. "After that workout I'm surprised I don't look like the douchebags around campus." he laughed to himself, bouncing up to get a box cutter and pry his package open. After taking the carton of pre-rolled blunts out, he started into the box with a bit of confusion and disgust, pulling things out one after the other.

"A sleeveless tank top that says 'Toke 'n Stroke Bro'... A pair of douchey sunglasses... Some red gym shorts, socks and slides... Ew, a snapback saying 'Who ate all the pussy?', why the fuck would anyone wear this!... And 2 dumbbells, no wonder this thing was so heavy! All of this is useless shit that's gonna end up in a donation bin now, I'll have to drop this trashy stuff off tomorrow on my way to the library... But hey, at least the weed seems fine, smells... potent." He said, tossing everything back into the box and taking a whiff of one of the blunts.

Kicking back on the couch again, he played with the blunt in his hand for a while before finally having the courage to light it up, taking a hit. Immediately he started coughing, not used to the sensation, but it did make his brain start to feel... fuzzy. "Damn, okay I need to push past it and get used to it." he said, lighting up for another hit of the blunt, this time barely a cough escaping his throat, feeling suspiciously more used to it. Then another, and another, until finally the whole blunt was gone. Sitting in his daze for a while, he enjoyed the sensation of his mind drifting around experiencing the high, his anxiety melting away as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eventually he decided to try and get up, but his body slumped over off the couch and hitting the floor, the room fading to black...

...

When Lucas finally came to again, the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of weed floating around in the air. "Damn bro, did I smoke the whole set or what..." he laughed groggily, getting ready to stretch out and get back to laying on the couch before he was startled by the sound of moaning blasting from his TV, eyes shooting open in confusion. On the screen, two busty lesbians were making out, them taking turns groping each others boobs and fingering each other. "What the fuck bro, how long has this been on?" he cursed, nervous that the neighbors nextdoor might have heard it playing as he started desperately looking for the remote.

When he couldn't find it in the cushions, he got up from the couch only to be met with his feet kicking a bunch of empty beer cans. "Dude, there's gotta be 2 dozen thrown all over the floor, did I have a party or something? I don't even know anyone who drinks beer..." he mumbled, going to scratch his head in confusion, but was even more confused when instead of his hair he felt a hat on top of his head. "Huh?" he thought, as he looked down at the floor again, noticing that instead of his skinny jeans and converse he was now wearing the socks and slides from the box, along with the sleeveless tank top and the shorts too. He stumbled his way to the bathroom door still baked out of his mind, mouth dropping open at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him.

"Broooo, am I dreaming or what the fuckkkk is going on" he said in disbelief. No more was the cute, pale twink he used to be staring back at him. Instead, a douchey bro he didn't recognize was standing face to face with him. Tanned skin, pillowy muscles, his once blonde hair turned into a brown buzz cut and with that stupid "Who ate all the pussy?" hat slapped over it. He touched his face, feeling along his chin where his once smooth skin now had a rougher texture, and a trashy chinstrap sprouted from his jawline. He slapped his face a few times in his daze, trying to wake up from the dream and growing more confused each time nothing changed.

Turning around and staggering back to his living room to try and make sense of what's going on, it hit him that he barely recognizes the room anymore. His apartment used to be perfectly maintained and well-decorated, now there was beer cans all over the floor, along with dirty socks and cummed-in underwear, greasy pizza boxes and chip bags all over the table and counter, the decorations on his walls had been torn down and replaced with posters of chicks in bikinis and sports teams, his Switch replaced with an X-Box and a stack of COD games next to it, DVD cases of trashy bro-comedies were thrown around near the TV too... Then the smell hit him, it STUNK in here, like a sickening mixture of weed, cheap body spray, and sour BO wafting in a heat around the room. "Bro, it fucking reeks in here... Or wait..." he mumbled as he gave himself a whiff, "I fucking reek!"

After a bit of stunned silence he finally started to process things in his brain again. How the fuck did he get like this, was any of this even real, and how does he get back to normal? He plopped back onto the couch, picking up his phone to see he had a handful of missed texts and calls from his boyfriend before noticing the time... 2:00pm. On Sunday. He had somehow been blacked out for 2 whole nights, with no memory of anything that had happened. While getting ready to call his boyfriend back, Lucas felt his insides rumbling and at first he thought it was from the munchies because of all the weed, but then he realized "Oh bro, all that double-cheese pizza is really gonna fucking..."

*PHRRRBBBTTT!*

His body instinctively lifted its leg as it pushed out the loudest and most obnoxious fart he'd ever ripped in his life, as his body seemed to react on its own, letting out an immature laugh and wafting the air before muttering "Fuck yeah bro, smells like victory!" He leaned back into the couch, remembering he needed to call Alex, but the loud moaning on the TV caught him off guard again. This time he locked eyes with the screen, the cock in his shorts immediately bulging and straining at the sight of the lesbian porn before him. "I really need to turn this shit off and get whatever's going on sorted out..." he thought, but he realized he couldn't move his hand to reach for his phone, instead it reacted on its own, reaching down his waistband to pull out his cock and start stroking for the busty babes on TV.

"All I do is Toke 'n Stroke, bro..." a voice in his head seemed to say, except it didn't come from within, he spoke it directly out of his own mouth.

"Wait, I didn't say that bro, it's-" he tried to talk, realizing that his thoughts echoed around stuck in his own head, not even leaving the lips of his own body. He was just stuck there, watching in a dazed horror as he went on autopilot.

"Toke 'n Stroke bro, I'm such a loyal customer Broski's Buds will HAVE to take me as a hype boy this time haha!" his voice spoke again, continuing to stroke for the porn on TV, Lucas's eyes stuck fixed on the screen. Suddenly though, he was interrupted by his phone vibrating, a text from his boyfriend coming through.

Alex: "Hey cutie, I hope everything is alright? You haven't answered my calls or texts in a couple days, I know it's busy with all your studying but we do still have dinner planned for tonight. Still on for me to pick you up at 5?"

"Oh thank God," Lucas thought, reading the message, "I can tell him what's going on and have him come over to help me fix this shit!" Unlocking his phone, Lucas let out a sigh of relief as he got ready to reply, only for his body to still be taken over by whatever douchey daze it was stuck in.

Lucas: "dont u ever come around me u faggy creep, if me or my bros ever catch u within 100 feet of us we'll give u the beating of a lifetime! fuck around n find out if u dare to show ur face here."

Lucas screamed internally as the message was typed out and sent in front of his very eyes, before his hand moved to block his boyfriend's number and turn his phone off. "Something is seriously fucking wrong with me bro, I need to-"

*PHHRRRRBBBTTTTTT*

Another obnoxious and sickening fart blasted out of his ass, filling the room and breaking Lucas's thoughts down into a daze again, as he felt around under the couch for something before pulling a sweaty, well-used fuck toy of a girls ass and pussy up from the mess.

As Lucas once again locked eyes with the TV, he took another hit from his dwindling blunt stash, finishing up the last one. After throwing what was left onto the floor, he prepared the fuck toy and slid it right down onto his cock, starting to bounce the toy up and down as he edged himself closer to finishing.

"If I can't figure out a way to snap out of this, I'm so fucked..." he thought, as his voice spoke again. "Toke 'n Stroke bro, this chick is soooo getting fucked!" He moaned, as he shot his thick load into the toy, feeling some of his braincells permanently shoot out with it, sloppily wiping the mess on the cushion next to him as he laid back, feeling his insides start to bubble again.

Lucas had a lot of Bro Time to catch up on, but luckily his new favorite weed strain was making sure that he was a captive audience until he was fully converted and assimilated into just another Bro.

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gentaro-kinniecom · 1 year ago

Text

New Beginnings

Characters: Zayne/fem!reader

C/w: 1.4k! (Read at your own risk, meant for +18) mentions of breeding, married life, somewhat graphic descriptions of sex. Zayne wants to be a father although he doesn't admit it..he just wants to get you knocked up.

A/n: Finished writing this instead of my english essay because... There's also a Rafayel fanfic in the making so stay tuned for more <33

“Zayne? It’s 1am, you still haven’t come back to bed..” I said, leaning against the door frame as he sighed, typing away on his computer while passing a hand across his hair, trying to calm himself down.

“I know. I’m sorry, I’ll be there”

“That’s what you said an hour ago..you’re tiring and exhausting yourself to the point of death at this point” Zayne sighed, closing his laptop and getting up from his desk chair, walking towards me with a soft grin trying to comfort me.

“Are you satisfied now?” He asked, hugging my waist as we walked towards our shared bedroom. Ever since we got married, Zayne has gotten more work than usual piled up on his desk every time I go to visit him at work. It worries me that he’s overworking himself because of money, which hasn’t been an issue at all given he’s a doctor and works in a very respected hospital. But what other reason might it be? I laid in our shared bed, feeling myself drift away to sleep when suddenly, Zayne wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Mhm, thank you” I replied, snuggling up to him while caressing his soft dark strands of hair that fell on his face, smiling. He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite grasp as Zayne kissed me goodnight. I couldn’t help but stay awake for a few minutes, looking at the city lights by the window and back at Zayne’s sleeping form beside me.

Woken up by the sound of something crashing from the kitchen, I got out of bed with a small yawn, walking down the corridor of our lovely home to see Zayne had a mess of pancake batter all over his “kiss the cook” apron while sighing in annoyance before turning towards me.

“There’s shards of glass on the floor..please, be careful” I nod, grabbing a broom from the closet room and coming back to see Zayne was picking up the broken pieces from the floor. I suddenly stepped in one while trying to hand him the broom which made him look at me with worry, I try not to cry as he can clearly see the tears pricking my eyes.

“I’m fine I swear..” Without a second thought, he quickly lifted me onto the kitchen counter, carefully yet skillfully removing the glass from my foot as Zayne chuckled.

“Having you like this, reminds me of our honeymoon. Remember when-” I stopped Zayne by placing a hand over his mouth, trying to not remember that day where he fucked me into oblivion in our hotel’s kitchen island, right before breakfeast too.

“Why must you always make me remember? It’s like you’re hinting at wanting kitchen sex right now..” A chuckle left his lips as Zayne’s body inched closer, his hands grabbing my waist gently, kissing my neck while whispering sweet words that had me falling into his desire.

“Because, shouldn’t being a husband imply taking care of his wife’s desires as their own? Is it too bad that I want to be greedy with you for a few moments?”His hands began to trail under my nightgown and towards my chest as he began to rub my nipples, making me whine while kissing him.

“Alright, fine. Just seeing you in this apron alone made me feel things, did you do it on purpose?” I asked half jokingly as Zayne kissed my shoulder before taking off my nightgown, leaving me naked on the counter while grinning ear to ear.

“Perhaps, although now I see what you’ve been meaning to hide all this time; you’re trying to rile me up, and it’s working” He then kissed me, taking his sweet time to stroke my clit, agonizingly slow, teasing me as I whined into his mouth. Zayne didn’t take this lightly and spread my legs apart in a second.

“And to think this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t break the glass measuring vase today” I added, gazing over at Zayne who kneeled towards my pussy, blowing on it gently before sucking on it. I gasped as his tongue did wonders, had I really forgotten of that day, or was I too fucked out of my brains to remember? Possibly the latter. He suddenly grabbed my thighs, massaging them in a way that made my cunt drip with more arousal than before. Of course, I was impatient, so I grabbed Zayne’s hair, pulling him upwards as he got the message.

“Maybe it was fate or clumsiness on my behalf, at least we’re making something out of this.” He spoke, yet I was too focused on how quickly he was to take off his pants, making me wonder why the hell was he wearing work pants so early in the morning. Nonetheless, all my thoughts vanished out the window as soon as I saw his cock. It wasn’t less than average or more, slightly curved and girthy, the type that never wants to let go once he’s had a taste..that..is the man I married, and the man he will always be. The small but noticeable vein on the side made me drool as he stroked himself a few times before prodding at my entrance.

“Please, don’t make me wait longer, my love”

“I thought, you weren’t the type to beg for something, it seems there’s a first for everything after all” Pushing my hips to meet his cock, Zayne grabbed them harshly, not enough to leave a bruise but enough to put me in my place as he smiled. The moment he thrusted inside, I threw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure Zayne was giving me at the moment. My hand found Zayne’s shoulder as he continued to pound at my dripping pussy. He let out a sharp groan as he finally reached my g-spot, making me let out a breathy moan while speeding up.

“Is this what you- hah wanted all along? For me to breed you? Make you carry our child? Answer me.” Zayne’s voice dropped to that soft and warm yet firm tone I always loved. Without any doubt, I answered almost eagerly.

“Y-yes..! Oh fuck~!” I sobbed due to the stimulation he gave me, in a hazy rush, Zayne grabbed my thighs, thrusting sharply yet deeply, enough to make me crave more.

“You’d be such a good mom, look at you, all needy and willing for me. I can’t wait to expand our family with you” He said, panting afterwards as he unexpectedly came inside rather quickly than normal. Pulling his cock away from my puffy cunt almost regretting his decision not long before seeing his cum leak down with a faint smile on his face.

“Stay here, I’ll go grab a towel.'' I nod, smiling at his gentleness as he comes back to clean me up. Zayne’s lips met mine as a ‘thank you’ from my behalf for being so kind and sweet as always. We eventually got dressed once again as I looked at my husband through the mirror of our bedroom, walking downstairs as I stared at the kitchen momentarily.

“So..what are we going to do about breakfast?” I asked, causing him to laugh while he grabbed both the house and car keys as we exited the front door.

“I know of a brunch place that just opened up nearby, perhaps we could give it a try today”

Some weeks later, I started feeling sick and began vomiting sometimes during the morning. I had a feeling it was because I was pregnant, however, my husband wanted to run some tests for me in the clinic near the hospital he worked at, “just to be sure” his words not mine. At the end of the day, I returned home waiting for the results to come back as I heard the front door open. Zayne tried little to hide the smile on his face as he handed me the envelope from the clinic

“I don’t need to read the letter at this point with the way you’re smiling at me” I teased, opening it up to show that I was indeed 3 weeks pregnant with his child. Zayne hugged me briefly before kissing my lips ever so softly.

“I promise to be the best father for our child, thank you for allowing me to have the blessing to start a family the day we got married, I love you.” He spoke, tear-eyed as I hugged him back, crying happily onto his chest.

“I love you too..I’ll never regret marrying the man that treats me like a queen and makes sure I have everything I need.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace fluff #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne smut #zayne

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arlana-likes-to-write · 23 days ago

Note

Can you please do wandanat x daughter reader were she has powers let's say like sonic. And she tries to hide them but it gets hard and she ends up in a fight with her parents and during Wich she accidentally yells about it and like instantly goes quite and how they would react please and thank you.

A Hidden Part of Me

Note: So I changed the power the read has because I didn't want it to be to much like Pietro. The power I choice added more angst to the story (which everyone knows I love). Also, sorry for being MIA I wanted this story out sooner but I think I'm developing carpal tunnel and I got sick. But please enjoy!

Warning: angst, angst with a happy ending (?), headaches, throwing up, dubious consent (it makes sense when you read it), mention of past death, self harm (?), trauma, lots and lots of trauma, x-men mention!, no physical description but reader does have long hair

Word Count: 5.1k

At this point, it was easier to keep it a secret. You had been with Wanda and Natasha for a few years but officially adopted only for 5 months. It was by accident that you ran into the couple. They were in California to help Scott with an Avenger issue. It so happened that the group they were after was after you, too. You gave them information critical to their mission. You thought that was it. That you would never see the Avengers again. However, the couple wasn’t too happy about letting you live alone, especially on the streets.

You moved into the Avenger compound in upstate New York. Nothing was holding you to California anyway. You enrolled in a home school program, worked out with Peter, and fell in love with spending time with Helen in the med bay. The Avengers welcomed you into their family, and you felt safe with Natasha and Wanda. Two years passed, and they officially adopted you. So, a hidden part of you was kept a secret.

They asked why The Syndicate was after you, and you told them you weren’t sure. That was the truth. You weren’t sure the Syndicate knew what you were capable of. Then, it never came up again. So why would you tell them? Being a part of the team wasn’t part of your ideal future. At most, you would want to help Helen in the med bay. You weren’t a fighter. Deep down, you were scared to tell them. Maybe they would see you differently when they discovered you were the reason you were alone.

Besides, it was easy to fight it. The urge to use your powers felt like a prick on the back of your neck. Sometimes, a headache would emerge, but you had remedies for those. So you pushed through. Ignored it. Time would pass, and the feeling would go away. For the past 10 years, you had it under control, and that was how it was going to be.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

A nagging headache pounded at your temples. No medication would touch it to help soothe it. Every sound made it worse. It came at a horrible time, too. You had a to-do list a mile on that consisted of essays, studying, and writing a speech for a conviction you were invited to. Every movement or bright light causes you to fight nauseous.

You called out sick with your internship with Helen and laid on the couch with a cold towel over your eyes. You were in Wanda and Natasha’s little apartment in the compound instead of your own. Their space felt like a blanket of safety around you. The lights were dimmed, and Wanda’s incense with lavender.

You groaned when their door opened, but their footstep stalled. It was Wanda’s soft footsteps that continued over to you. She sat on the table. “Another headache?” She asked softly. You groaned again as your answer. Her fingers undid the ponytail that held your hair up. The release of tension helped slightly.

“You’ve been getting them a lot recently,” Natasha’s voice came from the kitchen. She was trying to be quiet as she shuffled around - no doubt making tea. Chamomile tea had helped in the past, but you weren’t sure if it would help now.

“Grab some chocolate, too,” Wanda said to her girlfriend. Again, you groaned in protest. “I know, sweetheart, but it helped last time.” The last time was two days ago. Natasha wasn’t wrong when she said these headaches were more and more frequent. Suddenly, the cloth covered your eyes was removed, and you stared up at the smiling face of Wanda. Groaning, you rolled onto your side to bury your face in the cushion. “Now, when did a caveman replace my daughter?” Wanda chuckled. Huffing, you flopped back onto your back.

“Head hurts,” you mumbled.

“I know, sweetie,” Wanda cooed. Natasha walked over to you with tea and chocolate.

“Can you sit up for us?” You shrugged but slowly sat up. The room spun, and you closed your eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You felt Wanda move behind you to offer support. “Open your mouth,” Natasha whispered. “Try to take a few sips.” As much as you wanted to, you were afraid, too. Saliva pooled in your mouth. The room spun, and you couldn’t find your center, even with your eyes closed. You reached for Wanda’s hand.

“Gonna,” you mumbled. “Gonna be sick.”

“Nat,” you heard the Black Widow move. As quickly as the redhead was gone, she was back, and something was pressed under your chin. A metal bow, you figured, when you grabbed it.

“It’s okay, med (honey),” Natasha said. “We have you.” The dame broke that you desperately tried to hold back. Your body lurched forward, dry heaving first - painful spasms that wrecked through your chest. Then bile rose, bitter and sour, burning your throat as it came up. There was nothing solid to bring up as you hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Finally, it stopped, and you slumped back against Wanda - all of your energy was gone. Natasha left again and was back with a towel. It was warm against your skin. Gods, you hated feeling like this. Wanda pushed some of your hair out of your face and kissed your forehead. “Maybe we should take her to Helen,” Wanda said. “This isn’t good. Something must be wrong.” Natasha hummed in her agreement and took her hand. You liked the way her thumb moved back and forth against your skin.

“I don’t want to move her too much, though,” the Black Widow said. “Maybe Helen can come to us.” Usually, you hated when people talked to you like you weren’t there. You were just too tired to have any say.

You must have fallen asleep because you woke up in the couple’s bed - under the covers: an IV and a cotton ball with a tap at your elbow attached to your right arm. Helen must have taken blood. Thankfully, your headache was dulled. “Hi,” you looked at the Black Widow sitting in the chair next to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you answered and sat up against the headboard. “I’m guessing Helen gave me tramadol .” Natasha nodded. “Does she know what’s wrong with me?” She sighed.

“No, but she took some blood and will run a few tests. She wants to run some scans when you are feeling better.” That made sense. The headaches had to be a neurological problem, and getting scans could help. It wasn’t making sense, though; you never go sick. Even when you volunteered at the local clinic, the flu spread through the city. The last time you had a headache, this bad was 10-oh fuck.

It was like ice was injected into your veins: fear and panic. Ten years ago, these headaches were so bad you missed five days of school. Ten years ago, you sat on your family’s couch while your parents yelled at you. Ten years ago, you became an orphan, but your headaches stopped.

Before you could dwell more about it, Wanda entered the room with a fresh bowl of chicken paprikash. “I hope you are hungry because I made extra.”

“Smells great,” you lied and took the bowl from her. It was your powers that were causing these headaches, which meant everyone around you was in grave danger.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The scans confirmed your suspicion when they came back clear.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Natasha saw much of herself in you - a scared young girl who thought she had to hold the world’s weight on her shoulders. When they first brought you to the compound, you were terrified and unsure how to act around everyone. You retreated so far into yourself that Natasha was worried she would never see you again. But as time went on, you learned to trust those around you.

Boy, was it a treat to see your personality shine through. Your laughter bounced off the walls. Your smile lit up the room, and you were so fucking brilliant. It amazed her how you flew through assignments. Natasha was so excited to see what the future held.

Now, something was wrong. These headaches were driving you further and further away from them. You pulled back. You kept to yourself, and Natasha was beginning to forget the sound of your laugh. At any given moment, you quickly would leave the room when someone entered. But there were times Natasha could look at you before you left. Your eyes were a million miles away, and you looked exhausted. She’s never seen you like this before. Your absence was taken a toll on Wanda and the team.

The witch desperately wanted to fix what was going on. But it was hard when they had no idea what was broken. The Black Widow was tired of walking on eggshells around you. Hell, the entire team was. She needed to comfort you and figure out what was happening.

The intervention happened during team bonding. The TV had Mario Kart on while Sam, Peter, Bucky, and Steve raced against each other. Bruce was talking with Maria and Yelena regarding an upcoming mission. Wanda and Vision were talking over a game of rummy. That left Natasha with Tony. The billionaire was behind the bar mixing a mocktail for himself. “So,” Tony said. “Any idea what’s going on with that kid of yours?” Natasha huffed and took a sip of her drink.

“No idea,” she mumbled. “Every time I try to talk to her, she runs away. It’s like she’s scared.”

“Of what? You and the witch?” Tony questioned. The Black Widow shrugged. Maybe you were. At surface level, they were good parents. But one look into their dark and complicated past would scare anyone off. “Nah, that ain’t it. She looks scared of herself.” Natasha looked at Tony.

“What do you mean?” Tony sighed and took a long sip of the drink he made.

“I’ve seen the same look on everyone’s face in this room, including mine. At one point or another, we’ve all been scared of what we are capable of,” he shrugged. “Besides, we never found out why The Syndicate was after her.”

He had a point. But if you had a gift like Wanda or Carol, why hide it? You were surrounded by different people unless Tony was right, which Natasha hated to admit, and you were scared.

The sound of footsteps approaching caused Natasha to look. It was you - dressed in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. A pair of headphones were over your ears. Gods, you looked terrified and turned away quickly to leave, but Natasha was quicker. “Hey,” she waved at you to get your attention. Luckily, you stopped and took your headphones off, winching slightly. Were you experiencing another headache? “Why don’t you stay? Hang out for a little bit. I know Peter has been dying to beat you in Mario Kart.” Peter looked at you when he heard his name and waved.

“I can’t,” you said. “Super busy with school.” You were fiddling with your hands in front of you. “Maybe another night.” Natasha sighed as you turned around.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked. “Why are you putting a wall between us and you?” You stopped walking at her questions, hands falling to the side and flexing into fists.

“Can we not do this here?” You asked. Natasha could tell you said it through gritted teeth.

“If not here, then when?” she countered. You run away every time we try to talk to you.” Natasha heard Wanda’s footsteps walking by her side.

“Sweetheart, we just want to help.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Help? How could they help you when there was no answer to your problem? You squeezed your eyes shut. You were too weak. The simple solution was to leave the compound, but you wanted to stay even when it endangered everyone you loved. Gods, you were a fucking monster. “You can’t help me,” you whispered. “This is the way it has to be.”

“Why are you acting like a goddman martyr?” Natasha asked. Slowly, you turned to face them. Everyone on the team seemed to be locked in on this fight. It was a long time coming. You could feel the tension every time you entered the room. ‘We are a family. We figure things out as a family.”

“You think I want this? Do you think I like isolating myself from all of you? I hate it! But I didn’t ask for this because this is how it has to be,” you yelled, wincing slightly. The headache, which was a dull pulse, was intensifying. You pressed your fingers against your temple as if you could squeeze the pain out, but it throbbed - pulsing waves that started behind your eyes and spread like wildfire across your forehead and down your neck.

Groaning, you hunched forward. The pain was causing your stomach to twist and turn. You felt like you were going to throw up. “Sweetheart,” to blinded by the pain, you missed when Wanda walked over to her. A gentle hand now placed on your back.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you recoiled away from her, accidentally slapping her across the face.

“Hey, that was so uncalled for,” Natasha looked over Wanda’s face. A small mark formed when you hit her.

It was all too much. The noise. The attention. The pain. You wanted it all to stop. You pressed your palms to your temples. The pressure wasn’t helping. Panic swirled around you. Each breath you took was choppy and swallowed. “Gotta make it stop,” you mumbled. “Gotta make it stop.”

Everyone was talking. Everyone was saying your name. But the worst of all, you heard their blood swirling through their veins. Every heartbeat in this room echoed inside your head. The prickle at the back of your neck became impossible to ignore. “Please stop!” You yelled and threw your arms to the side. Finally, the noise stopped. The headache was gone, but the reason behind it all twisted your stomach in shame.

Everyone was frozen, their eyes wide in shook and fear—except Vision. The android slowly stood up. “What are you doing, Miss?” he asked.

You ignored him. Your fingers twitched as if you were plucking invisible strings. Their body obeyed you - they were no longer in control. Clenching your hands into fists, they fell—one by one, your family to their knees, then to the ground. Everyone expect Natasha. She was fighting it - fighting you. Her eyes darted to yours in panic. Tears were streaking down her face. Her shoulders trembled. “I’m sorry.” And you were; that wasn’t a lie.

You punched your hand forward, and Natasha finally fell to the ground. Unlike the past, you had a little more control over your powers. They weren’t dead, just unconscious. It would give you time to come up with a plan. ��Don’t come after me, Vision,” you looked at the android. “I don’t want to be found.”

As quickly as possible, you ran out of the compound, leaving the only family you knew behind.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Wanda’s head was spinning. It felt like she tried to out-drink Steve and Bucky, and they used Asgardian ale. A gentle hand was able to bring her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw Vision staring down at her. “Easy,” he spoke softly. “I’ve alerted Helen and the medical staff. They should be here shortly.” Against her better judgment, Wanda tried to sit up. The world spun, and she threw up the little food in her system. “Ah, yes, the same thing occurred to Sergeant Barnes when he woke up.”

Once her stomach settled, she sat up and looked around the room. The entire time was in different levels of waking up. She was leaning heavily against the android as she looked at Natasha. Her girlfriend wasn’t moving. Luckily, Helen arrived and rushed over to her first. There was dried blood underneath the Black Widow’s nose. “Viz,” Wanda whispered. “What happened?” The android sighed.

“I witnessed it, and I’m not entirely sure.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Everyone sat in the conference room, an IV attached to their arms that was pumping fluid, pain, and nauseous medication. The only ones not here were Natasha and Peter. She had to be taken to the med bay for further testing. Tony refused Peter to enter the meeting. Wanda knew why through the security feed of the events that transpired. Natasha fought against whatever you were doing to them. Then you ran. Vision told the group you wished not to be followed. Like hell, that was going to happen. Tony groaned. “I feel like I’m hungover,” he said. “I hate this feeling. It’s why I quit drinking.”

“Shit was unnatural,” Sam shivered. “Felt my blood was betraying me.”

“And I’m guessing you and Natasha had no idea about whatever this is?” Maria asked. Wanda shook her head. There were moments when Wanda would accidentally venture into your mind. It was never on purpose, but she never saw this. Either you never thought about it or hid it away from her.

“What do we do?” Bucky asked. “She’s alone and probably terrified.” Steve rubbed his hands over his face and ruffled his head.

“The correct course of action would be to report it to Ross.” Yelena scuffed and shook her head. “What is it?”

“We all know what will happen to her if this gets out,” Wanda squeezed her hands into a fist. Ross and the council would throw you into the RAFT like they tried to do with her.

“What do you purpose, Miss. Belova?” The younger Black Widow locked eyes with her. Natasha liked to joke that you made Yelena soft. The Blonde became an aunt to you so effortlessly no one batted an eye.

“We do not report it, and we keep here where she is safe.”

“And what if this happens again?” Tony questioned. What if she loses control and this happens again?” he raised his arm with the IV in it.

“She is my daughter,” Wanda finally said. She’s family, and we don’t turn our backs on family. If she gets her powers under control, then she can stay here.”

“How do we train her?” Bruce questioned. “I have never seen anything like this before.” Wanda sighed. She sat at a table with an android who was given life by a stone, a man who turned into a Hulk, and two soldiers from World War 2. They were all definitions of ‘never seen anything like this.’ But for some reason, you were the abnormality - the one unable to get her powers under control. It was out of fear - they were terrified of an 18-year-old girl.

“Then I have another option,” She spun around to see Natasha. She looked paler than usual with dark circles under her eyes, but she was awake, alive, and standing.

“Nat, shouldn’t you be resting?” Wanda asked, standing up to approach her girlfriend. But Natasha waved her off and walked over to the table - hands resting on top of it - as Wanda sat back down.

“If we all agree to keep what she is capable of between us, then I have an idea. " At first, no one said anything, and Wanda held her breath. Finally, one by one, they all agreed to keep your power a secret. “Then I think we should send her to Xavier.”

“What?” Wanda exclaimed. “You want to send her away. She’s going to think we are abandoning her.”

“But we aren’t,” Natasha glanced at Wanda, then looked back at the table. “She’ll return to us when she can’t hurt herself or us.” Wanda wondered if Natasha was referring to the headaches. Slowly, the redhead put her hand over Wanda’s. “What other options do we have? Xavier can help her.”

Wanda wanted to argue that there were a number of options if they just took a moment to think and did not let dear cloud their judgment. But Wanda finally took a good long look at her partner. Natasha looked shattered, like a piece of her was missing. It reminded Wanda of a time after Ultron or the night Natasha opened herself up to her and relived every painful memory of her past—a past that was haunted by a man who controlled her—just like you did.

Sighing, she squeezed Natasha’s hand. “FRIDAY, can you locate her?” The AI was quiet for a beat.

“Yes, it appears there is a heat signature that matches your daughter’s physical build in the North Woods. I can send you the exact coordinates, Miss. Maximoff.”

“Send them to me too, FRIDAY,” Wanda went to protest. “She’s my daughter too. This doesn’t change that.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You weren’t sure where you were going. You ran to the forest that surrounded the compound and kept walking. No phone. No money. No plan. You tried so hard to keep it under control -to be normal. But you should have known life was very unkind to you. The cherry on top was it started to rain. You put your hood up and kept walking. The clothes you wore became soaked but you deserved it. This was the least of your worries.

The world pitied you as you stumbled upon a slight covering. You sat on the dampened forest floor with your knees to your chest. This was fine, you tried to convince yourself. This wasn’t the first time you were alone and had to find a new family. But it would be better for you to be alone.

Suddenly, a small chipmunk ran from the bush next to you. You were startled but curious as the creature moved toward you. You held out your hand but fell into your trap. With your hand outstretched, the chipmunk began to tremble. Then, the animal floated in the air, twitching unnaturally. It reminded you of a marionette.

You clenched your jaw but kept your eyes trained on the creature under your control. You wanted to face the monster that you are. Fingers remained in an invisible grip while you puppeted the creature’s veins and blood.

Once upon a time, you discovered a book about your ability. The author called blood-bending a forbidden and lost art. This wasn’t an art. This was an invasion. Your hands were inside everything, able to twist the most scared parts of any living being without consent. “I can feel it,” you muttered, voice hoarse. “The rhythm. Every pulse. Ever desperate little beat.” It came naturally to you, like breathing or walking.

Finally, you released the chipmunk. It fell in a heap, skittered a few inches, then collapsed again. You stayed put, not moving to help it. You looked away and rested your cheek on your knee. “I hate this,” you weren’t sure what you were referring to - the power, the chipmunk, or yourself.

Sighing, you closed your eyes. It wasn’t long till footsteps approached you. They belonged to Natasha. You knew it was her by the way her heartbeat and blood flowed through her veins. Like a fingerprint, everyone’s circulatory system was different. “No one has ever fought against it before,” you whispered. “I’m impressed even though it could have killed you.”

“Was your intention to kill us?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just wanted the headaches to stop.” You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. Wanda approached you on the other side. You liked the way their heartbeats complemented each other. They were soulmates in your eyes. “Is everyone okay?”

“They are,” Wanda answered. “Confused but okay,” she sat next to you - close enough for you to feel presence but enough space to not feel claustrophobic. “Can you tell us what happened back there?”

You kept your eyes closed. “I could do it since I was young. I think I did it subconsciously on my brothers as a little game when I was a kid. The headaches come when I don’t use it. The longer I go, the worse they are.” Finally, you opened your eyes. “I killed my family by accident,” you admitted. “My parents thought I was faking the headaches to get out of school. They were yelling, and I just snapped. I tried to wake them up, but they wouldn’t.”

Natasha finally sat down. “The police thought a home invader came in, killed my parents and brothers, and kidnapped me. Somehow, what truly happened that night was found out by The Syndicate.”

“They wanted your ability to help them,” you nodded. That was always your theory. Natasha said your name with a sigh. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was so scared,” you felt tears running down your cheeks. “I thought I had it under control, and if you found out the truth, you’d make me leave. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want you to know I’m a monster,” a sob left your mouth. Your body shook from the mixture of the cold or exhaustion. Tentative hands touched your shoulder, and you leaned into Wanda as the witch hugged you. “I’m so sorry,” you sobbed against her skin. They let you cry. They let you scream. At the moment, no words were going to help calm you down. Finally, your tears turned into quiet sniffles and hiccups.

Wanda cupped your cheeks in her hands. “You are not a monster, my sweet girl,” her thumb drew patterns against your reddened cheeks.

“I am,” your voice shook. “I killed my family. I almost killed all of you.”

“You have an ability that needs to be trained and managed,” Natasha said. She made no move to get closer to you. “These events were accidents.”

“Am I in a lot of trouble?” you asked. They were silent, and a quiet conversation passed between them. The longer your question went unanswered, the more anxiety filled your bones, and your heartbeat increased.

“Technically, no,” Wanda finally answered. “No one besides those in the compound knows what happened. Everyone agreed to keep it within the house.”

“Your confession about your biological family stays between the three of us,” you glanced at the Black Widow. She tried so hard to mask her true feelings, but you knew the truth. She was terrified of you. It was the way her heartbeat. Her adrenaline was through the roof. “You need to get your powers under control so the headaches stop and this never happens again. There is a school that helps.”

“You are sending me away,” you panicked.

“It is not permanent,” Wanda forced you to look back at her. “Only till you get your powers under control.” But if you never could?

“We are a family,” Natasha said. “This doesn’t change that.” You desperately wanted to believe her. You nodded and burrowed your face against Wanda’s shoulder. Everything was going to be different now.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

6 months

“Are you ready to go home?” Professor Xavier asked. You nodded, staring patiently out the window for any sign of their car.

You arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters 6 months ago. When Natasha and Wanda dropped you off, you were determined to hate it here. But like at the compound, the other students and teachers here broke down your walls. You found another family in the other misguided individuals.

It was hard work, but Xavier helped you control your powers and manage your headaches. During your time here, you only spoke to Wanda constantly. Peter would send you texts every few days, and it was even rarer to hear from the other members of the team. Not hearing from Natasha constantly hurt.

Wanda tried to explain the Black Widow’s odd behavior. Deep-rooted trauma from her past, when a man believed he had a right to her body. Using your powers brought up unpleasant memories for her and, no doubt, Yelena. But Wanda told you Yelena was one of those who advocated for you to stay at the compound. That made you feel a little better even though you still felt awful. Guilt and regret were a constant feeling.

“Thank you for everything, Professor,” you faced the man. “I will forever be grateful.” He waved his hand.

“Nonsense, child. You have been a delight,” that was further from the truth, but it was a nice compliment. Xavier took your hand. “You will always have a home here. Whenever you need one.” You frowned slightly. Why was he saying that? Was there something he knew that you didn’t? Was Natasha and Wanda not coming for you? Xavier smiled. “Ah, I do believe your ride is here.” You looked out the window and saw a car drive through the past and up the long driveway.

Without another word, you ran out the front door to meet them. The car stopped, and your heart was pounding against your ribs. Finally, Wanda got out of the passenger side. It was like you could finally breathe normally again. They kept their promise and came back. “Mom,” you broke out into a run and hugged her. The force lifted her off the ground.

“Oh, my sweet girl, how I’ve missed you so much.” Wanda hugged you tighter. “Here, let me look at you,” you allowed her to take a step back. “You’ve cut your hair.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Jean said I needed a change. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she grabbed onto your forearms. “They’ve been working you hard.” It was true. While Xavier worked on your powers and the mental side of everything, Logan and Hank were in charge of your physical training. Angel made sure they didn’t kill you.

The driver’s door opened, and you watched Natasha get out of the car. You met her at the front, approaching her slowly. “Hi, mama,” you whispered. Natasha smiled.

“Get over here, kid,” she said, meeting you halfway for a hug. You missed her hugs so much, and tears landed on your skin, but you knew you were crying too. “I missed you so much,” she said.

“Missed you too, mama,” you whispered. Natasha cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

“Come on,” she threw her arm around your shoulders. “Let’s grab your things and go home.” Home. You were going home with your moms and couldn’t be more excited.

The past and future were out of your control and a little scary, but with your family by your side, you were ready to face the present.

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff

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darkroom-fanzine · 4 months ago

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[And the curtain opens...!]

[Image Description: a black and white banner gif showing Siffrin from In Stars And Time as he wanders through the third floor of the House. He is posed in the center of the image, faced to his left (viewer's right) as if moving in that direction. Behind him are four trailing repetitions of his image, each one losing opacity as they get further away, with a final fifth one having its values inverted, appearing instead as Mal Du Pays. Floating around them are six polaroid photographs, the first covering up the right half of Siffrin's face, showing instead a values inversion of it within its borders, their expression blank. Beyond that in order from closest to Siffrin to farthest away, the polaroids show Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie, and one that is indistinguishable, all members of the party with their faces distorted out, while the last one is distorted beyond a potential for recognition. On the other side of Siffrin, to his left, is a flash-like burst evocative of a camera flash or a star (much like Loop's head), partially hidden over by Siffrin's shadow. Around the brick walls in the background and partially growing over the bottom left of the foreground can be seen the King's hair, and in the bottom right is text reading: "Darkroom | an ISAT Fanzine". The entire thing has been animated to look as if the lines around Siffrin, their shadows, and all the distortions over the polaroids are boiling, while light shines off from around the flash/star. End ID.]

[Hello, stardust~! How can I help you on this wonderful new loop?]

Welcome, everyone! This is the blog for the upcoming project, "Darkroom: an ISAT Fanzine". We are excited to finally announce our beginnings, and hope you will stick around to see what it is we have to offer!

Firstly, let us introduce ourselves. The mod team for this fanzine comprises of myself (@actingwithportals), as well as @voidedtea, @publiccmenace, @astrangeavenue, @sundimus, and @plasticteabag. Between the six of us, we have experience as leads, co-leads, moderators, and contributors on four individual fanzine projects, and are all excited to begin work on something new!

Now, let's get to the fun part, shall we?

[Darkroom: Negative Space, Long Exposure, Afterimage.]

The theming for this fanzine centers around the idea of distortions, how they obscure what we see and perceive, and how they can bring to light an entirely new perspective hidden behind the more easily comprehensible. In Stars And Time shows us throughout Siffrin's loops how the order of a carefully curated script can bring about a chaotic mental state, and how the chaotic breaking down of these self-imposed walls can bring about the order of accepting vulnerability.

Change is often destruction, and in the midst of that destruction can be found something beautiful, something to live for. This is the idea we hope to present through this fanzine.

[Fanzine Content.]

The Darkroom Fanzine will be a multi-media culmination of fanworks created by fans, for fans, and available for free download on Itch.io. Creations can vary anywhere from art, to writing, to music, to essays, to crafts, to whatever you can think of that you would like to see included in this project!

The only restrictions we will be enforcing is content that lies outside of the existing rating for the game, meaning no 18+ subject material.

However new you are to your Craft—whether it be writing, art, edits, collages, or anything beyond—your skills are welcomed here. From beginners to professionals, all are encouraged to apply! Once we hit an internally agreed upper limit of participants, we will lock the sign-up form should that limit be reached before the end date of the sign-ups occurs.

[Interest Checks.]

To kick this off, we are opening an interest check form to gauge interest for this project. The form will remain open from January 23rd through February 22nd, upon which the following day (February 23rd) the sign-up form will go live.

[Curtain Call.]

Thank you all for taking the time to read this far, and if you have any further questions/inquiries/concerns about this project, our askbox is open! Relatedly, you can also shoot us an email at [email protected].

INTEREST CHECK FORM HERE.

[See you under the Favor Tree soon, stardust~ ✨]

#in stars and time #isat #darkroom fanzine

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hyunesent · 9 months ago

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. ۫𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪ SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

"The idea of exploring the beauty and complexity of the human body and physical connections wasn't uninteresting, and you couldn't think of a better person to do it with other than the one sitting next to you."

art student!hyunjin x art student!reader (afab)

chapter cw: pining, drinking, masturbation (m + f), depictions of oral sex (f receiving) and p in v sex, pre-cum eating. I honestly wanted to do a lot more in this chapter but I also want the slow burn ;p

Chapter 1: Beneath the surface

How could you not be entranced by him? Where the scent of paint thinner mingled with the whisper of the sound of paintbrushes on canvases, you found yourself drawn to the figure at the far easel; conveniently placed at a comfortable pining distance.

An unmistakable art style so different from your own paired with his sculpted features. His presence was an intricate masterpiece of quiet confidence and unspoken dreams. Each brushstroke he made, imbued with a natural fluidity, seemed to capture the essence of something ineffable, something you yearned to unravel.

Hyunjin was a study of classical beauty. Dark, expressive eyes, often framed by a fringe of soft, slightly tousled hair, and his lips, full and slightly pouted as he fully engrossed himself in his work. But of course, your admiration didn't halt at appreciation for his artistry. You couldn't help but cross your legs tighter when you caught a glimpse of his tongue resting between his lips in concentration, and your thoughts could not help but wonder how smooth it would feel against–

“I have already assigned you all partners for this conceptual art task you have been given, these have been chosen strategically so I want you to all challenge yourselves and each other to push your creative boundaries for this piece. Each pair will be given an abstract concept to interpret and express in three different mediums. The themes will be emailed to you separately this evening but for now, I will send you all the list of pairs so ensure you have means to contact them.”

You paid little mind to your professor's description of the task assigned to you but perked up while packing your stuff away at the last sentence. As you carefully slung your bag over your shoulder you felt the vibration in your pocket, clicking on the notification your eyes pulsed open with a mix of emotions when you saw your name next to Hyunjin’s.

Sure you were acquainted with him in class and had worked with him in group settings before but that was all at a comfortable distance where there was no need for the two of you to understand each other on a deeper level. Your excitement and anticipation transitioned into panic as a tall shadow covered you.

You look up and are greeted with a short yet soft smile from the man before you and are instantly weak in the knees. There was a moment where you were allowed to take in the way he looked so effortlessly perfect with his hair pulled out of his face with a hair tie and you had to stop yourself from frowning as he swiftly released it allowing his to fall to his collarbones as he raked his hands through it. He spoke so comfortably as the two of you walked side by side out of the building.

“Y/n I was wondering if you’re okay to start the project today we can meet after my shift? I’m honestly excited to do this assignment,” He looks at you and lets out a chuckled sigh “It seems so much more interesting than the last.”

You almost roll your eyes at the memory of the material studies essay that was due and it provokes Hyunjin's contagious laugh. The two of you light-heartedly complain as you reminisce about the sleepless nights spent on such an unfulfilling part of the course.

After a few minutes, you make it clear that you're more than happy to start the project tonight and he sweetly expresses gratitude before hastily saying goodbye to ensure he won't be late for work. You make your way to your dorm blissfully and in contrast to your usual bed rotting and doom-scrolling combo you get in the shower. Hours later your phone lights up several times.

Hyunjin: Just got back to my dorm, gonna shower and order food for us Hyunjin: be here in an hour? Hyunjin: and don't open the email with our theme!!! Hyunjin: let's do it together so we can brainstorm Hyunjin: see you soon :)

As you scroll down, the last notification catches your eye—an email from your professor. Smiling fondly at Hyunjin’s messages, you swipe the notification away. Biting your lip to silence a laugh, you can't help but notice how playful his demeanour is through text, a sharp contrast to the mysterious allure he maintains in person. Setting your phone aside, you put a little extra effort into your appearance, more than you usually would for a simple assignment, before making your way to his dorm.

When you arrived at your assignment partner's dorm, your heart pounded in sync with your tentative knock on the door. When Hyunjin opened it, his warm smile and lingering gaze made your pulse race.

Stepping inside, you were pleasantly surprised by the room's unexpected sensuality. Soft lighting bathed the space in a golden glow, while the scent of sandalwood and paint lingered in the air. Abstract paintings in Hyunjins distinctive style adorned the walls, each one more evocative than the last. You always knew Hyunjin enjoyed more provocative themes in class but this was different, more intimate.

Your eyes met again, and his gentle, lingering stares hinted at something unreadable, making you feel both exhilarated and at ease. As you settled in to get ready to work on your project, Hyunjin took your jacket from you and hung it next to his before coming back to where you were seated with two glasses of wine. You take it from him with a warm smile and a whispered thank you then take a sip before placing it down next to his.

“What do you think the theme is going to be?” he asked, his attentive eyes fixated on yours. “Not a clue,” you replied after a moment's thought. “I think it’s cool we’re all doing different themes, though. It'll be interesting to see everyone’s interpretations.”

He nodded in agreement before taking out his phone and unlocking it, positioning himself so you could see the screen. He spared you a glance, a silent plea that the theme assigned would be intriguing. As he opened the email and scrolled down, you read together, and the disparity between your synced reactions was almost comical. The Human Form and Intimacy. As you read those words, a blush crept up your cheeks, almost as if you had been found guilty of something. Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed with something exhilarating.

“Oh my God, that’s so good!” he exclaimed, looking over at you with an uncontainable smile. You instinctively sat up straighter. “There’s so much we can do with this. I’m so excited.” You couldn’t help but feel a warmth seeing the genuine joy exuding from Hyunjin. His passion for his craft was truly admirable. In comparison, you were much more of a stay-inside-the-lines kind of person, not as outgoing or experimental with your art or your personal life. However, despite your initial hesitation, the idea of exploring the beauty and complexity of the human body and physical connections wasn't uninteresting. And you couldn't think of a better person to do it with than the one sitting next to you.

The room was quiet save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint scratching of pencils on paper. Hyunjin suggested the two of you brainstorm ideas and then feedback to each other. He sat comfortably at his desk, his posture relaxed and confident, while you fidgeted with your supplies. The theme of the assignment, "The Human Form and Intimacy," loomed large in your mind, casting a shadow of nervousness over your creativity. Hyunjin’s ease with the subject was palpable. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he began sketching and writing, effortlessly capturing the fluid grace of the human body in simplified forms and creating lists of ideas on what mediums could be used. You, on the other hand, found your hands trembling slightly as you tried to put pencil to paper. The suggestive nature of the theme felt almost too intimate and too revealing, and you struggled to express yourself without feeling exposed.

Sensing your discomfort, Hyunjin looked up from his work, his gaze softening. "You seem a bit nervous," he said gently, his voice a soothing murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "Are you okay with this theme?" You hesitated, biting your lip before nodding slowly. "I’ve never really done anything like this before. It feels…vulgar, almost. I’m not sure how to be open and expressive with something so personal."

Hyunjin listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze a comforting anchor. "I understand," he said softly. He did, sex and intimacy weren't something that he took lightly either and he understood why holding it in such high regard would cause a sense of conflict for a task like this. "It can be intimidating to delve into such intimate themes, but there’s a lot of beauty in it too. The human form, the connections we share, they’re all part of our most profound experiences."

He paused, then continued, his voice low and sincere, laced with a quiet intensity. "There’s something incredibly powerful about capturing those moments of vulnerability. It’s not just about intercourse; it’s about the raw, unfiltered connection between people. That’s what I find beautiful." With that, he reached for a sketchbook tucked away on his shelf, one he rarely showed to anyone. He silently handed it to you, so you opened it and saw page after page filled with sensual sketches, each one a masterful depiction of human bodies intertwined in moments of passion or singular bodies enjoying their own pleasure and tenderness. The drawings were explicit, yes, but there was a grace and elegance to them that transcended the vulgarity you had feared. Hyunjin’s eyes met yours as he explained, "These sketches are my way of exploring and celebrating intimacy. They’re meant to capture the beauty of those private, sacred moments."

You were taken aback, but also deeply intrigued. His perspective was so different from your own, and yet, you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Growing up, you were always taught to view sex as something simple and utilitarian, a straightforward act with a singular purpose. Your upbringing, steeped in traditional values, framed intimacy as a means to an end, devoid of nuance or emotion. However, as you grew older and moved out on your own, the world began to unfold in all its complexity. You found yourself exploring new ideas and experiences, each one peeling back layers of understanding. You discovered that sex could be a profound expression of love, a dance of trust, or a celebration of physical pleasure. It was a spectrum of emotions and connections, each encounter adding depth to your perception. Still, in spite of your own experiences, you couldn't deny how affected you were seeing the array of drawings in front of you.

Your cheeks and ears felt flushed as your eyes scanned over sketches of women and men indulging in self-pleasure, each figure rendered with exquisite detail and sensitivity. The scratches of his pencil conveyed a palpable sense of ecstasy, from the arch of a woman's back to the intense focus in a man's gaze as he explored his own pleasure. The sheets rustled softly as you turned them, your fingers trembling slightly, each new image a testament to Hyunjin's ability to capture the beauty and intensity of human desire. You could feel his intense gaze on you but the embarrassment you felt from it did not overtake your curiosity to keep turning the page. There was an undeniable attraction, an arousal even, in the way he spoke about and depicted sex and intimacy through his art. His passion was contagious, stirring something within you. Your heart pounded and a wetness collected in your underwear, unable to quell the surge of arousal these intimate. It was as if you could feel the passion emanating from the pages, each drawing tightening the feeling in your core and causing your pathetic attempt at clenching around nothing.

That did not go unnoticed. Too focused on calming yourself down you did not see the way Hyunjin’s eyes darkened. "I’ve always believed that art should make you feel something," he said, his voice a hushed whisper that seemed to wrap around you. "It should stir your soul, make your heart race. That’s what these drawings do for me. They’re not just about the physical act, but about the emotions behind it, the intimacy and trust."

You finally found the courage to look up at him and he almost gasped seeing your glossed over eyes. You felt a warmth spreading through you, a mix of admiration and a burgeoning desire to explore this new realm of expression. "I’ve always been afraid to push boundaries, to really let go," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. Hyunjin’s hand reached out, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture that was both reassuring and electrifying. "Art is about breaking those boundaries," he said softly. "It’s about being brave enough to express your true self, to explore the depths of your emotions."

You nodded, your eyes locked onto his, feeling a profound connection forming between you. "I want to try," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. His smile was warm and encouraging. "We can explore this together," he promised. His gaze loitered on you taking you in and feeling your genuinity. Hyunjin watched you with a mix of intense curiosity and restrained desire, the intimacy of the recent conversation hanging palpably between you. Your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and sensitivity made his pulse quicken.

He had been able to sense the subtle shift in your energy and posture, a silent admission of arousal that mirrored the growing tent in his pants. He felt a powerful urge to bridge the gap between your feelings, to show you the depths of his passion in a more tangible way. Yet, as the moment stretched on, he wrestled with his own impulses, determined to remain respectful and honour the delicate trust you had just begun to build. With a deep breath, he chose to focus on your shared journey of exploration and expression, channelling his desire into a mutual understanding rather than a physical advance.

As you continued to talk, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating possibility of what you could create together. The nervousness began to retreat, replaced by a growing curiosity and a need to understand Hyunjin’s perspective. You found a new sense of freedom, a permission to explore your creativity without fear. Hyunjin had gone to refill your glasses and the two of you had decided that the three mediums you would be using for this project were oil painting (hyunjin’s speciality), sculpting and photography. The alcohol prevented your mind from wandering too much about what that would entail so instead you spent the rest of the evening basking in each other's company trying to push aside any lingering thoughts.

The street lamps cast a warm glow on the quiet campus as Hyunjin and you strolled side by side. Your footsteps echoed softly against the brick buildings, a rhythmic soundtrack to your shared silence. The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of summer nights and possibility. Hyunjin glanced at the girl beside him, admiring how the golden light played across your features. Your brow furrowed slightly as you clutched your sketchbook to your chest, no doubt still pondering your art assignment. He longed to smooth away that tiny crease with his thumb, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. "Thank you for walking me back," you murmured, breaking the silence. Your voice was low, almost reverent in the stillness of the night. Hyunjin's lips curved into a gentle smile, his own voice a rich timbre that seemed to resonate in the space between them. "I couldn't let you walk alone at this hour."

As you approached your dorm building, your pace slowed unconsciously, neither quite ready for the evening to end. Hyunjin's hand brushed against yours, a whisper of contact that sent electricity coursing through both your bodies. He heard your sharp intake of breath and felt his heart rate quicken in response. You came to a stop before the entrance, turning to face each other. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension. Hyunjin's gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark and luminous in the lamplight. "I had a lovely time tonight," you said softly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sketchbook. Hyunjin nodded, swallowing hard. "So did I. Your ideas for the project were inspiring."

You couldn't help but smile at that knowing how much of an inspiration he was to you. His hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered, tracing the delicate outline of your jaw. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief, exquisite moment.

When you opened them again, Hyunjin saw a flash of something primal in their depths – a hunger that mirrored his own. His hand lingered over yours, not willing to break the connection. At that moment, the air between them seemed charged with possibility. Hyunjin leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. You tilted your face up, your lips parting slightly in anticipation. But all too soon, realisation hit and you stepped back, breaking the spell, leaving you both breathless and aching. With a final, gentle squeeze of your hand, Hyunjin stepped back. You look at him wordless and it seems he caught on as he spoke for you.

"Goodnight," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Goodnight, Hyunjin," you replied, your voice trembling slightly as you turned and entered your dorm. As the door closed behind you, Hyunjin let out a shaky breath. He stood there for a moment, his mind replaying the evening, before slowly making his way back to his dorm. The walk back was a blur, Hyunjin's mind consumed by replaying every moment of your interaction. The soft brush of your arm against his as they walked, the way your eyes had widened when he'd touched your face, the barely audible catch in your breath. As soon as his door clicked shut behind him, Hyunjin leaned against it, his head falling back with a soft thud. The scent of your perfume clung to his clothes, a constant reminder of your closeness. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake off the intense arousal that had been building all evening.

Once inside your room, you leaned against the door, your heart pounding. The memory of Hyunjin's touch lingered on your skin, igniting a fire within you. Closing your eyes you imagined what might have happened if you’d been brave enough to kiss him. Hyunjin lay in his dorm bed, the dim light of the night sky seeping through his window, casting shadows that danced and flickered across his body. The memory of the evening lingered a heavy warmth that seemed to permeate everything. You had both held back, yearning to give in to your desires, but unable to find the courage to cross that final line. Now, as he lay there with his eyes closed, the pressure built within him. His hand drifted down his chest, fingers ghosting over the thin fabric of his shirt. He imagined your touch instead of his own, delicate yet curious, exploring the planes of his body. Hyunjin felt the throbbing need that had been building up inside him. He closed his eyes and thought of you, your body warm and inviting, gripping his hardness, guiding him inside you

In a room not too far from his, you laid in your bed, heart pounding in sync with his own. The memories of your evening together were just as fresh in your mind, and as you imagined his touch, your own arousal began to build once more, your body responding to his thoughts as if you were in the same room, touching each other. You ran your hand down your body, skin tingling from the friction of your fingers against you. Your thoughts were filled with the image of him, his bare chest rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. You visualized your body gliding over his, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss, your wet tongues exploring each other's mouths. When you reached between your legs, you felt a surge of desire for him, growing stronger with every stroke against your pussy. You imagined him between your legs, his face buried in your folds as he eagerly and desperately pleasured you. You could envision the intense focus in his eyes, his lips glistening with your arousal allowing him to taste his min rain with all the things he wanted to do to you; like you were his canvas waiting to be covered. Your breathing became more ragged, moans escaping your lips, hips arching off the bed as your hand worked faster and faster, seeking the release you craved.

Hyunjin's thoughts grew more intense, imagining you wet and aroused, your body yearning for his touch just as much as he longed for yours. His hand moved in a steady rhythm, his grip becoming more firm with each stroke. The sight of his own arousal, glistening in the dim light, was a tantalizing sight. The scent of sweat and arousal filled the air, musky and heady. His scent mixed with yours in his mind, creating an aroma that only fueled his desire. His lips were parted as he panted, his mouth dry and craving a taste. He imagined your lips on his, your dripping cunt. As his hand moved over his swollen tip, he could feel the stickiness of his desire. He brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them in anticipation. He whined and bucked his hips up to the taste of his own pre-cum lingering on his tongue, salty and sweet. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what it would taste like mixed with yours.

He envisioned you climaxing beneath him, your body writhing in pleasure as he brought you to a shuddering, soul-shaking orgasm. The thought of your cries of ecstasy, the feel of your hot, wet core clenching around him, sent him over the edge. You imagined him cumming, his throbbing erection releasing its load deep within you, filling you, completing the connection you both craved. Your fingers slick with your arousal, were thrust inside yourself, your body responding to the fantasy as if it were your own touch that you needed. A hand came up to silence your loud whimpers. Your body convulsed, your orgasm taking over. Your body shook with the intensity of the climax. It was as if you could feel him inside you, your bodies moving in tandem, desires finally merging into a single, unified experience.

Hyunjin's orgasm was explosive, the rush of pleasure so intense that it felt as if every nerve ending in his body was alight. His climax crashed over him in waves parallel to the ropes of cum that landed on his stomach. He imagined you, your face scrunched in pleasure, your body locked in the throes of your release At that moment, miles apart, their highs intertwined as if they were physically touching each other. The heavy warmth of the emotions seeped into the air once more, leaving behind a memory that would never be forgotten. Hyunjin lay in his dorm bed, still trembling from the intensity of his release. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. They might not have crossed the line that night, but the connection they had built was undeniable, and the desire that burned between them was only just beginning.

𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: This is a work of fiction not a portrayal of anyone in real life. THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST. I'm excited to continue this series, I have a few ideas for the smut and how it will link to the mediums chosen. I think the sculpting will be my favourite to write. I also really want to develop Hyunjin's character a lot in this so stay tuned for that Likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Happy reading .ᐟ

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drdemonprince · 1 year ago

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We sometimes treat avoiding Annoying Queer People as if it’s essential to the LGBTQ community’s self-preservation. We agonize over event descriptions and identity-based admittance policies, wondering how to discourage all the Annoying (and often, it’s implied, fake) Queers from attending without restricting any actual queers. (This always fails, because it turns out that actual queer people are humans, and therefore pretty annoying. And being annoying, by the way, is not a crime.) In order to fortify ourselves against Annoying Queers, we mock all their signifiers and regard them as massive social red flags: straight husbands, bolo ties, sexual inexperience, ukuleles, rainbow pins from Target, misconceptions about what hormones do, and Picrew avatars all somehow get treated with equal venom, no matter where they are coming from and why. The problem is, none of these traits tell us anything about how safe a person actually is to be around. Only observing their patterns of behavior can do that. By demonizing “cringey” and irritating attributes as the signs of a deep character flaw, we ignore the fact they tend to cluster among the closeted, questioning, or newly-out for a reason. When a socially isolated queer person in the suburbs feels that nobody sees them as they are, they might cover themselves in rainbow swag from the local big-box store to an ‘annoying’ degree. When a closeted lesbian teen hasn’t had the chance to form genuine relationships with LGBTQ people, all her reference points might come from shows like Our Flag Means Death and Heartstopper which yeah, might seem fangirlish and irritating to a more seasoned adult. When a profoundly repressed trans divorcee still believes the misinformation about hormones they’ve been fed by the press, they might repeat some downright offensive myths about pelvic floor damage or body hair being disgusting. This too, is incredibly exhausting to help someone process again and again. I don’t think any of us literally believe that the more irritating a person is, the more of a pressing political threat they are. But we behave as if we do. We devote huge amounts of time to complaining about the types of queer people that irritate us, and develop complex taxonomies for describing why they are so annoying and why defeating that annoyingness matters. This person is a tenderqueer, that one is a tucute, and in their style of dress and annoying mannerisms we can tell that they represent all that we hate most about ourselves and how we are seen. It’s easy for us to wind up directing more attention toward the queer people that annoy us than we do to our shared enemies. It’s not a good use of our time. It’s not good for our shared futures. And it’s all rooted in internalized shame.

I wrote about biphobia, acephobia, transphobia, and the troubling respectability politics of hating the "Annoying Queer Person." The full essay is free to read (or have narrated to you!) on my Substack.

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farfromstrange · 11 months ago

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Thumb v Printer | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Your clumsiness keeps Matt on edge at all times. Like when you cut your thumb on a printer.

Warnings: None. (Maybe slight description of injury for those of you who are squeamish). Tooth-rotting fluff.

Word Count: ~1k

A/n: This did happen to me. It's healed now, but a piece of my thumb was missing for like a week and it wasn't fun. All because I had to print my sources for an essay and the paper got stuck. Smh.

Read Me On AO3!

If a stranger came up to you and told you, “I smell blood,” it would be more than enough to make you run for the hills. Sharing a home with Matt Murdock though, you have heard stranger things.

You turn from your spot on the sofa, putting your laptop aside for a moment to greet him. “Hello to you too,” you answer casually.

He tilts his head in your direction. His nostrils flare. You know better than to question it. He’s wearing the same suit he left your shared apartment with this morning, his tie only loosened slightly to allow him some air to breathe. The last streaks of sunlight filter through the window, enveloping him in an ethereal glow. He’s so beautiful, but he doesn’t allow you much time to admire him as he stands in the hallway, his hands propped up on his hips as though he is about to lecture you on criminal law before the Civil War.

“You opened the first-aid kit,” he states. “What happened?”

It’s an astute observation, you have to give him that. “Oh. Yeah.” You chuckle. “I just cut my finger on the printer, that’s all.”

He stutters for a moment, almost like an old engine. “You… I’m sorry, what?”

His worried expression fades into something else entirely. You know that look all too well; he’s confused—so confused, in fact, that he forgets how concerned he was a minute ago.

“I cut my finger on the printer,” you repeat, shrugging. “Happens.”

“I’m gonna regret asking you this, but…how?”

“Well, I was printing some documents earlier, and the paper got stuck, so, I had to lift the top and get in there, right?”

He nods. “Right.”

So far, it sounds plausible, but he knows you. Matt is well aware that your clumsiness manages to exceed his in many ways, and you have gotten yourself into predicaments in the past that he still hasn’t wrapped his head around. Sometimes, shit happens to and around you, and he has to accept that. He never fails to try though, which is kind of endearing, in a way. It’s something you have gotten used to over the years; he has to ensure you’re okay or he can’t find a moment to rest.

“I wasn’t wearing my glasses,” you confess, “so I had to put my face as close as possible to see what I was doing. Anyway, the paper ripped and since my position didn’t allow for any traction, I accidentally got my thumb caught on a sharp edge because if I’d pulled my hand out I would’ve hit myself in the face.”

A moment of silence passes. The wheels in Matt’s head visibly turn. He fidgets with the waistband of his pants, still processing. Eventually, he asks, “What?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry for not cleaning up. I was busy trying to fix my thumb and the printer.”

“I’m not… sweetheart, I’m not worried about the mess. I’m worried about you.” Matt slips the glasses off his nose and places them aside.

“I’m okay,” you tell him. But are you, really?

“You sure?” He bridges the gap between you, tugging at your hand to run his fingers over the bandage; the cut underneath screams in protest. “Let me check.” His hazel eyes focus blankly at the space where your nose is, but it feels as though he is staring into your soul.

“Matt…” You try to stop him, but he swiftly unpacks the injury.

He sucks in a sharp breath when the scent hits him. You wonder what it smells like; blood, definitely, and maybe some of the ink you accidentally got into the wound before disinfecting it. His thumb gently inspects the area around it, trying not to hurt you. Matt can’t help but shake his head again; it doesn’t take much for him to realize that it isn’t just a tiny cut.

“Jesus,” he curses under his breath. “Feels like you’re missing some skin there.”

You try to make light of the situation. “Maybe we’ll find it the next time one of us prints something.”

His jaw clenches. You’re not in pain anymore, and your fight with the printer did not lead to a life-threatening injury, but he can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, not even for a second.

“I love you,” he says, “but you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” It’s not as endearing as it usually sounds.

“Huh.” You huff. “That’s saying a lot, considering you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m blind,” he retorts, eyebrows raised to his hairline. He’s standing there, expression suggesting he thinks you have officially lost your mind, and it rubs you the wrong way.

You retract your hand, glaring at him with all you’ve got. “And I’m extremely short-sighted!” You don’t have to yell for him to feel the intended sting of your tone.

His hands find their way back to his hips like a condescending mother. “Why weren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“Because,” you say, “I accidentally got coffee on them this morning and forgot to put them back on.” Your confidence falters halfway through though, realizing it doesn’t work well in your defense. Especially not in an argument with a skilled lawyer such as your boyfriend.

You love his caring nature more than life, but sometimes he treats you like a child who needs saving. Your heart is racing in your chest, and perhaps that is why he stops before you can make an argument out of a simple cut on your finger. It’s not worth it.

“I… you know what,” Matt caves, and his biceps relax, “I’m not even going to ask.”

You nod, albeit not triumphantly. You didn’t exactly win this battle of wits. “Yeah. Probably for the better,” you answer, chin held high, but it’s of no use.

You got defeated. By a printer.

His lips curve into a soft smile. “C’mere.” He leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He smells of his cologne, paper, and coffee—like home. And he probably tastes like what he had for lunch or maybe the water he gozzled before heading home, but there is always a slight tinge of something indescribable when he kisses you.

Before your lips can finally touch though, he halts. Matt sniffs, licking his lips and tasting the air. “You smell like ink,” he says.

Your eyes narrow. Asshole. “Thank you. That’s…should I pour bleach into my mouth to accommodate you, Murdock?” you snap, pushing away from him.

Instead of begging on his knees for forgiveness—a dramatic notion you would not be opposed to—he laughs. Matt Murdock has the audacity to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out between giggles. “I’m sorry. Hey!” He tugs at your arm once more. “At least let me hug you. Please.”

You pout. “I’ll bite you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I might.”

He brings you into his arms with little resistance from your end, guiding your head just above his heart. So you can hear him. Feel him. Smell him. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair.

You bury your face in his chest. It’s unfair how comfortable he is. “Hm. You’re lucky you’re irreplaceable,” you say, but it lacks conviction.

Matt clicks his tongue. “You’re so nice to me.”

“You started it.”

“That’s fair.” Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head back up. “I still love you.”

You can’t bite back a smile this time, purring, “Oh, I know.”

That’s never going to change, you know. And you love him. All of him, all the time, and unconditionally.

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox

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benz12313 · 3 months ago

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Boyfriend!Ridoc - SFW Version

Description: I muse about what Ridoc would be like as a boyfriend. I tried to keep it gender neutral, but please let me know if I accidentally missed any female pronouns. I'm so used to writing fem at this point I sometimes miss it if I'm trying not to write that way.

Warnings: slight mentions of death? (more like fear of death? idk man), vague Onyx Storm spoiler (mentioned a scene, but with no detail at all), use of pet name "baby", swearing

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely fucking adores you. I mean think about it, he’s slept with about half of Basgiath at this point (maybe not literally, but still). The man has to be absolutely down bad for you to give that up. Not to mention he clearly has some issues with attachments, and when he does form them they’re strong. He was mad the longest with Violet in Iron Flame, and I mean, we all know that scene between them in Onyx Storm when he finds out about Xaden. So it’s safe to say that if he’s decided to date you, he absolutely adores you.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely needs to be touching you at all times. He’s a touchy guy, so with you, the person he loves most? From having an arm around you in class to holding hands in the halls. When you’re on the flight field? Just touching down? You barely get off your dragon and he’s wrapping you up in a spinning hug, not giving a damn about your dragon’s annoyance of having him too close. Outside of class when the two of you are studying or just hanging out with the rest of the group? You’re in his lap, his head resting on your shoulder, with him giving you a whispered running commentary of little jokes and narration as the group socializes. And when its just the two of you? Cuddles. Constant cuddles. Dude just needs to feel you close, feel your warmth, assuring himself that the two of you are indeed alive and well.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who teases you about schoolwork, but absolutely helps you learn everything you need to. Not malicious about it, or even remotely degrading, just pure teasing. Like “Aw, Y/N, c’mon that problem isn’t that hard. Here you just gotta…” or “Really? I finished that essay yesterday. I bet you’ve just been staring at my handsome face too long, huh? Let me help you…”. Like dude isn’t a huge fan of schoolwork, there’s a lot more important things to be learning and doing, but he’s smart, and even if he doesn’t agree, I guess that history quiz is important to learn. And he’ll be damned if his partner isn’t keeping up.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who shares rooms with you every night. This plays into the touching thing, he literally cannot sleep without you beside him. Not to mention, I feel in my bones that this man would have literal sweat-inducing, crying out into the dark, nightmares if he didn’t have his arms around you. Especially if you guys got together after Violet was attacked in her room. Ain’t no way he’d ever let anything happen to you on his watch. I think he’d last a week, max after the two of you get together before he starts crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night, sheepish grin, and whining about how it’s just warmer with you beside him. The moment he has you in his arms his heart rate slows and every muscle relaxes, and he’s asleep in seconds.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes making sure you’re taking care of yourself as his personal job. He’s a fucking tyrant about it. He hasn’t seen you drink water in the last hour? He’s shoving a water bottle in your hands and giving you a light glare and telling you to "drink". Wanna try only eating fruit or a salad at meals? It’s… “Ugh-ugh Baby, you better put protein on that plate or I’ll do it for you.” as he’s following behind you in the food line. Looking even mildly under the weather? He’s already preparing supplies and urging you to take things easier. Not taking care of your skincare or other personal hygiene? He literally sits you down and does it for you. It’s all because he wants to make sure you’re in the best condition you can be. People die for less in this college, and if he has any power over it, you’re gonna be well and prepared for anything this world has to throw your way.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who you cannot train with, at all. Not because he’d ever hurt you, but because he’s afraid to hurt you. He’d take it so fucking easy on you, that training with him wouldn’t be useful in any capacity. Even weights or running, he’s encouraging you to take it easy, so the dude has to stay on the other side of the room, thoroughly distracted with his own training so the both of you can get something done. He knows what you need, but the man cannot deliver it himself. He has faith in his friends to be able to push you, so he leaves it to them. However, during challenges? Ridoc is front and center, cheering you on without being distracting, and rarely getting scared for you. You kick ass, that’s why he’s made you his. He wraps you in a big hug after, promising massages and snuggles later. His baby just kicked ass after all, they deserve to relax now.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who ALWAYS makes sure you’re watching him when he’s on the mat. You’re his good luck charm after all ;). He’s shooting you looks like ‘Really? They tried that?’ Or ‘YAWN, I could beat this guy in my sleep”, and you know what each and every one of them means because, well, he talks a lot, so at this point you’ve absolutely memorized what every face means. He also likes to know he has your full attention because you have his attention all the time, so it’s only fair.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes you on secret dates and outings all the time. He loves you, he wants to spoil you, and frankly, he never knows when its all gonna end. From sneaking out to go to the tavern alone to simple study dates in an empty classroom where he’s set up some candles for mood lighting, he is always coming up with new ways to spend quality time with you. It’s one of his favorite hobbies, to see how your face lights up every time.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who your dragon has a unique relationship with. They like him, though it certainly didn’t start that way. The man is loud, irritating, and much too unserious for their liking. But over time, with forced proximity, your dragon has grown a fondness for him. “Like a tumor” they’d say, but then let him cuddle you and lean against their side on the flight field after flying practice when the two of you are bored and don’t want to go back inside yet. They don’t let anyone else within ten feet of them, one extra human is bad enough. I also think that the two of your dragons would have to have a good relationship with each other. Not necessarily as mates, but definitely a strong bond of friendship. He always wants eyes on you and within a close distance, which means if your dragons hated each other, it would just make things difficult for the two of you.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who just overall has the best intentions when it comes to you. He trusts you wholly, and expects you to trust him too. It’s impossible not to; he’d absolutely never truly judge you, and has your back in every instance. Trust just comes easily with him. Even if his past conquests come knocking he either ignores them completely (“Do I know you?”) or LOUDLY tells them off if they are feeling bold. No one comes before you in his mind, so there’s no way he’d ever jeopardize what he has with you.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who is just a little sweetheart, who wants his partner to be safe and by his side for as long as time will allow. He’ll do anything to continue having silly dates and fall asleep with you every night. Anything.

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @the-lake-is-calling

#ridoc gamlyn #ridoc x reader #iron flame #fourth wing #onyx storm #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc #fanfic #ridoc gamlyn x reader #ridoc iron flame #ridoc onyx storm

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