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auxiliarydetective · 14 days

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AP-01: Project Apocalypse

ch. 15: Physical Therapy

AP-01 Masterlist

This fic is part of the Academy Projects series, a full rewrite of The Umbrella Academy with the addition of an original character, Kassandra Hargreeves. Throughout the story, you'll stumble across a few songs. This is supposed to make the fic feel as much like the show as possible, so I recommend you don't skip them.

Warnings: Canon-typical issues, substance abuse

Both practically brooding, Diego and Kassandra entered the dimly lit bar. The counter was close to the entrance with no barkeeper in sight and Klaus’s coat thrown haphazardly over the surface, right next to an empty shot glass. Careful not to have the bottle inside fall out, Kassandra picked the coat up and clutched it to her chest. Then, she scanned the room for more details. Old tables, old men sitting at them to match, all staring at a significantly younger man in front of a memorabilia board. Klaus, gently caressing a tiny man in a picture. That was Dave. For as tender as the moment could have been, the tension in the room was crushing. Swiftly, Kassandra made her way towards Klaus and Diego – her main hope of protection in this situation – who was being oddly soft and kind towards his brother for once. She had barely reached them when a particularly scruffy-looking bar patron raised his voice.

“Hey, guys,” he said sharply. “This bar? It’s for vets only.”

Can’t we get a break for once? Kassandra muttered in her mind, gently putting a hand on Klaus’s arm.

“I am a vet,” Klaus mumbled in soft sadness.

“Really?” the man chuckled. “Where’d you serve?”

Kassandra bit her tongue and bound her hands from pointing at the picture in front of her and telling this man to open his eyes. It was faded, yes, but that was clearly Klaus in that picture from the 60s – but seeing that, to most sensible people, time travel was a thing of science fiction…

“None of your business,” Klaus sneered.

“You got balls coming in here pretending to be one of us.”

“Oh, I have every right to be here, just like you,” Klaus growled as he finally turned around. “Asshole!”

Once again, the situation was getting out of hand.

“Let him be, Klaus,” Kassandra whispered, taking his hand. “Let him be ignorant and high-and-mighty, just don’t make this worse for yourself.”

But he didn’t listen. Of course, he didn’t. He just scoffed, but he left her hand where it was. If this was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because Kassandra could feel his emotions boiling up. She tried to calm them but the alcohol in his veins made getting through hard. Luckily, Diego was there to de-escalate the situation – an uncommon occurrence. Usually, he was doing the opposite. He stepped between Klaus and the man and held the veteran back.

“Slow down, Marine,” he said. “Alright? My brother’s just had a few too many. Let’s just call it a day, all go our own way.”

“Sure thing,” the veteran grumbled.

“Thank you. Klaus—”

“As long as you apologize.”

Klaus just giggled. Kassandra could feel the tension and hostility in the room grow even further, all eyes now on them. It was maybe eight versus three, and two of those three couldn’t fight. This would not end well.

“Fine,” Diego said. “I’m sorry. He’s sorry. We’re all sorry. Right, Kassandra?”

“Yes,” Kassandra quickly agreed, failing to keep her voice at a soft level. “We won’t bother you again.”

“I wanna hear him say it,” the veteran declared in a tone that made Kassandra’s toes curl.

She could hear it in his thoughts: He was well aware that Klaus couldn’t say it. All of this was done on purpose. This man was out for trouble. Probably hadn’t gotten to punch someone around in some time. Kassandra pressed her lips together and tried to swallow her anger. She hated people like that.

“… Klaus?”

“No, no, no, he’s right,” Klaus muttered, but it was much too insincere. Not in his tone, but in his mind. If Kassandra hadn’t been worried about his safety before, she must have started now. “He’s right. He’s right. I’d like to apologize… that you… are depriving some village of their idiot!”

As Klaus spat out the last word, the veteran swung his fist for Klaus’s head. But, miraculously, in his drunkenness, Klaus dodged and went right for a counter attack. From that moment on, everything went far too fast. As soon as the first punch had been thrown, Diego had jumped into action, beating people up left and right as if his life depended on it. Within seconds, the entire situation devolved into a bar brawl and Kassandra could physically feel her last nerve snap. She threw Klaus’s coat onto a nearby table and stomped into action, grabbed one of the men backing Klaus into a corner and yanked him by the collar, pulling him away from the scene. Quick, steely movements took over as she kicked him in the shin to make him topple over, then spun around and whacked him in the skull with her ankle brace. After the first knockout, the second was easier, Diego assisting her on the third and fourth until all the veterans were on the floor.

“So much for not kicking anyone’s ass in over a decade,” Diego commented as the siblings slid out of the bar. “I don’t buy it.”

“Then you’ll get it for free because I wasn’t lying,” Kassandra muttered, her ankle aching, her fingers fumbling with a blister of ibuprofen.

“It’s that good ol’ muscle memory of yours,” Klaus sighed, putting his coat back on, slipping into a giggle.The three of them clambered into the car, Klaus and Diego in the front, Kassandra in the back, and drove off, leaving the shouting veterans behind. For a while, they just cruised through the city seemingly at random, before Diego came to a halt with the back of the car pointed to a very familiar building. Griddy’s Donuts.

“C’mon, Ben, ice cream donuts are half off!”

“Shhhh, not so loud, Dad could still hear you.”

With quick steps, Ben caught up to the rest of the group, diving under Klaus’s arm only to be held in place there. A little further ahead, Kassandra and Allison were chatting about necklaces they had seen in a shop window and about braiding each other’s hair. Luther and Diego were at the front of the group, trying to compete over who would get to Griddy’s first and constantly having to be called back because they were splitting from the rest. Right on cue as Allison mocked them for being slower than Five, he appeared on the sidewalk next to them, Vanya clinging on to his arm.

“There you are, where have you been?” Allison asked sharply. “You didn’t jump ahead, did you?”

“No!” Five protested. “Who do you think I am, some kind of cheater?”

“Yes.”

“I took a bit longer to put away my violin,” Vanya cut in, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you’re still on time,” Kassandra hummed. “Wouldn’t wanna miss out on the special offers, right?”

It was a sunny day in September, maybe the last sunny day of the year, and the Umbrellas had left their jackets behind, basking in the afternoon sun. Kassandra had a bag slung over her shoulder, her notebook and polaroid camera safely stored inside, and Vanya had the kids’ (stolen) pocket money hidden inside her pinafore.

“People are staring at us,” she muttered, dipping her head as Five strutted forward to compete with Diego and Luther.

“That’s fine, let them stare,” Kassandra shrugged but she still switched places with Vanya so that Vanya would be hidden away in the middle.

“Well, we do look like we escaped from a 60s boarding school,” Allison commented. “But, y’know, 1860s.”

“1860s?!” Klaus scoffed from behind, “No way, your skirts are too short! What a scandal!”

“We’re twelve!”

A not-so-short but breezy walk later, the Umbrellas piled into Griddy’s Donuts, bickering over who got in first and nearly getting stuck in the door as they did. Finally, they were all inside and scrambled to the seats at the counter, shouting orders over one another as the waitress tried to keep up with them, giggling every time she lost track. The other customers were a little annoyed, but with a few rumors from Allison, everything was fine, and the kids could dive into donut paradise.

So, they each got their sugary sweet orders and settled down as they started eating, though not without stealing from each other as they did. It was so much different from meals at the Academy, where everyone was deathly quiet and even the slightest disorder wasn’t tolerated. Kassandra basked in everyone’s happiness, laughing wildly as she defended her raspberry jelly against Klaus. Soon, Allison had settled for braiding Vanya’s hair in exchange for bites of her donut, and Ben was being a good student, learning to do the same as he did Kassandra’s hair.

“Hey, what about me?” Klaus complained.

“Your hair’s too short,” Allison stated.

“No, no, I could do a little braid,” Kassandra suggested, motioning him over.

“Hey, Diego, you’ve got training at five,” Ben called, “don’t stuff it.”

Diego just groaned in disapproval, his mouth wedged shut by a donut – a sight that Kassandra immediately had to snap a picture of, triggering another sound of complaint.

“You too, Luther.”

“We’ll just skip training,” Luther shrugged, chewing on his third pastry of the day.

“Wow, goody two shoes finally got a mind of his own!” Five smirked, trying not to have the marshmallows fall off his peanut butter special.

“Five, do you want a braid too?” Vanya asked.

“I’d rather swallow arsenic, thanks, sis.”

“Okay, I’m glad I asked.”

“It’ll put waves in my hair, you know how dumb I look with waves in my hair.”

“I think you look adorable,” Kassandra hummed, snapping a picture of Five with his sugar-loaded donut.

“I never look adorable, dickhead.”

“Hey, language!”

“Dickhead,” almost all of the siblings echoed, and Kassandra was left pouting.

“You think Dad is gonna look for us?” Vanya muttered.

“No way,” Diego mumbled through a full mouth, “but he’s gonna cut our sweets for a month.”

“Yeah, we’re all gonna get detention,” Allison agreed. “Worth it though.”

Kassandra hummed in approval, closing her eyes for a second as she took in the feelings and sounds. The clinking of cutlery, the bickering of her siblings around her, the gentle tugs at her hair as Ben braided it, the faint rumbling of cars outside. It was like a lullaby for her mind, putting her worries at ease despite the chaos around her. With a bit of readjusting of the positions of the group and relocating to the floor, Klaus settled down in front of Kassandra and she ran her fingers through his hair, weaving the longer portion of his curls into a loose braid.

“Hey, Kass!” Diego called. “When’s that new movie coming to theaters again?”

“Kass! Kass!”

“Yeah. Yeah?” Kassandra blurted out, blinking rapidly as she drifted back into reality, just now realizing that Klaus was poking her cheek and that Diego was calling her name in the present.

“Did you get hit over the head again or—?”

“No, I’m fine, I was just… spaced out.”

“Well, space back in,” Diego said, “‘cause I spotted the guy who attacked the Academy and tortured Klaus.”

“We spotted the guy,” Klaus corrected.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is: This is gonna get violent, so if you wanna tap out—”

“No, I’m not tapping out,” Kassandra protested. “What do you think I am, some kind of coward?”

“You said you’d hold down the base.”

“Well, I also said I couldn’t fight anymore but I clearly can, right? So, come on, start the car, or else we’re gonna lose him. Equal numbers squad, just like the old days. We can get this guy and his partner on top of that, we just gotta be smart about it.”

“We’ve never been good at that,” Klaus muttered as he took a swig from his vodka bottle.

“Fine, then we’ll just beat them to a pulp.”

Diego let out a little laugh and started the car. “Y’know, I like this new you.”

General Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats

Academy Projects Taglist: @therantsofawriterrr @come-along-pond @the-wyvern-institute @cherrybombgigi

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua oc #oc: kassandra hargreeves #fanfiction #fic: project apocalypse #fic: the academy projects

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loftylockjaw · 8 months

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TIMING: Early January LOCATION: Darkling Lake PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Nicole (@nicsalazar) SUMMARY: Wyatt thinks he’s found a nice midnight snack. He hasn’t. It’s an ustra, but he doesn’t know that. Neither does Nicole, who happens to be out walking the banks of the lake that night. The pair team up to take the creature down, but it doesn’t go so well for Wyatt. CONTENT WARNINGS: None.

—

It wasn’t often camp set so close to Darkling Lake. For good reason. Firefighters were wise enough not to get too familiar with the territory, its bleak reputation influential enough to defer to places nearby when in need of an anchor point. But, with fire season well on the way, it wasn’t always sensible, and sometimes the most awful of fires required drastic measures.

The day had been exhausting. Digging up the fireline, reducing fuel and the general stress of, well, everything —work and real life— weighed heavily on Nicole’s body, her muscles so sore she didn’t think sleep would come easily. When the night fell and the new crew came in, some firefighters had found their way back to the main tent. Others, like her, preferred to sleep on the forest ground, ready if emergency called.

Nicole twisted one final time in her sleeping bag before she let out a frustrated groan and rose to her feet again. Maybe a walk would help her get rid of all the adrenaline still coursing through her body, hindering her rest. So, with the excuse of going to find the bathroom, she grabbed a banana, a bottle of water and strolled away from the rest of the team.

Despite all the stories she had heard about the lake, she couldn’t deny its beauty. And at night? Everything was as breathtaking as it was eerie. It was an interesting combination, Nicole decided, though she was speaking from the comfort of her own experiences with the lake. Which had all been good in the past, when she’d visited Teagan. Except for the first time, but she’d rather not dwell on almost drowning right now.

Unsurprisingly, the walk had managed exactly the goal she had in mind, her body feeling a lot less jittery and restless once she had set a constant pace. So of course, something had to go and disturb her peace.

Her stomach plummeted as the scent of decomposition reached her nostrils. Nicole whipped her head around, gaze trying to pin down the source. Luckily for her, there was nothing. She wasn’t in the mood to find bodies lying around. Not that there was ever a mood for that. Picking up her steps, she navigated her way back to camp, until a figure near the water caught her attention.

It couldn’t be taller than Leah. Whoever— whatever that was, they were risking a lot by standing near the edge. That’s how Nicole almost—

She had likely not concealed her steps very carefully, because the figure was alerted of her presence, twisting around and revealing its supernatural form in the process. That was no woman, it required little to no observation to gather that. But it would take a moment for Nicole to go over her mental notes to figure out exactly what type of beast she’d encountered. The creature kept its distance, though it was clearly preparing for something.

Under no circumstances Nicole could’ve predict it was to spit something at projectile speed, aiming at her. She dodged, by the grace of her enhanced agility, but she knew it was time to run before she found out the real purpose of that substance. Just in time, however, something else appeared ready to join the “fun”, as Nicole picked up extra movement in their vicinity.

—

A quick, easy meal, he’d thought. Some creepy little fucking humanoid skulking around the edge of the lake, unaware of the danger that lurked beneath the water. Though truth be told, Wyatt was the one in danger, though he didn’t know it. He’d seen one of these once, when he was just a little hatchling back in the bayous of Louisiana, but his mother had quickly dispatched it. He couldn’t remember much about it other than it spit something that seemed corrosive, but he was under the impression that such a defense mechanism would prove useless against his tough exterior. Surely it must, if mama had made such easy work of it!

But then things became more complicated, because there was a human (apparent) on the banks drawing its attention, and—damnit. Damnit. Wyatt didn’t make a habit of protecting random passerby from the local fauna, but his conscience got the better of him and stirred him from where he hung deathly still in the water, his crocodilian head no longer appearing like just a log in the still waters.

The lamia slipped toward the bank with haste, scaly body rising almost silently from the water as it grew more and more shallow. The creature between them was focused on the woman, not hearing the low rumble that accompanied the parting of Wyatt’s long, deadly jaws until the lamia was almost upon it. It screeched, scrabbling through the mud to get away from him, barely escaping the loud snap of his teeth slamming together in a bite that bore no fruit. He let out an angry bellow, slithering between the stranger and the beast, challenging it to come closer. It wouldn’t, hiding in the reeds and spitting at them from a distance, an attack that the lamia was able to dodge. “Gonna have to do better than that, pig roast!” His attention briefly swung to the woman behind him, and he huffed out a breath. “You good?”

—

Some sort of… creature rose out of the water too. Crocodile. Alligator? Fuck if Nicole knew the difference. She was too busy fucking dodging spit to examine more closely and settle that. She immediately realized she was a good distraction, though. Not something she ever wanted to be, but when the creature by the lake was too busy trying to get her instead of noticing what slithered behind, then… Nicole could try to be more distracting. She stepped away from the trees she used as cover, showing herself out in the open for the monster to get. It looked like it was working at least, until the crocodile snapped at it and it wasn’t quite the powerful bite it should’ve been. The monster slipped away, screeching in the process. Likely disturbing other wildlife lurking in the shadows. There was a moment —brief, but there— where Nicole considered whether the jaguar should join in or not. If it would be smarter to let two beasts have at the monster rather than one.

The animal slithered to a halt outside his lake, putting himself between her and the monster, adopting a protective stance. And that should have been enough to tell Nicole that this was no ordinary animal. Dogs could be protective. Cats too, sometimes, if they got their heads out of their asses. But a crocodile? Nicole was open to the idea, strange as it was, and took this gesture as an invitation to retreat to the trees, to hide as the monster continued to shoot at them. Or she could leave and let the animal take care of the rest. That was what she was supposed to be doing before she got attacked. Running. Nicole did none of that because a voice reached her ears and froze her in the spot.

What the fuck didn’t cover it. The crocodile—alligator, whatever the fuck hybrid spoke, checking in on her. Eyes bulging, the momentary shock made it so the monster’s spit nearly touched her. She ducked in time, again by the virtue of flexible clavicles, hearing it hit the leaves behind them. Right. There was no time for shock. She knew humans could shift into all kinds of animals. This wasn’t new. Or it was, but not in any way that should have Nicole unable to team up with…him. Her mind was spinning, but survival always came first. “Been better— got any idea what that thing is?” Not that it fucking mattered, of course. A time and place for all that. But it did matter, in a way. Nicole was no fighter, but she’d been able to get rid of dangerous creatures before, depending on their weaknesses. Leah had taught her well. Knowing where in the wide realm of Wicked’s Rest bullshit this one fit could give some indication as to how to get rid of it. Because— “Something tells me we shouldn’t let it go free”. She reached for her backpack, forgetting she wasn’t carrying her hatchet. How else was she going to defend herself? Something stabbed between her ribs, cold and demanding. The spirit. No, she wasn’t doing that. Not after it got hurt. “Can work distracting her, you’ll— you…” her forehead creased. Was she really speaking to an alligator? “You get your dinner” she mumbled without much conviction, before blowing a tense breath and moving into the spotlight.

—

“Nope! Doesn’t look as tasty up close as it did from the water, neither!” Wyatt returned, his gaze fixed on the bipedal thing trying its best to land a spit hit. “But I never turned down a new chew toy before, got no reason to start now!” He kept quiet while the stranger moved to attract the monster’s attention and try to give him a better shot at getting in there and getting a good bite on this thing, lurking in the darkness and waiting for the opportune moment.

It came when the monster realized it wasn’t going to get anywhere just standing here, and seemed to hesitantly move away from the water and towards Nicole. It clearly was not as clever a creature as Wyatt (which was not an especially high bar), seeming to forget the scaly shifter that had almost made an appetizer of it only minutes before, focusing wholly on the dark-haired woman as it advanced forward. Wyatt took advantage of this and moved up behind it again, primed to sprint on all fours right for it once he felt the moment was right. It was getting uncomfortably close to the woman and he grit his teeth, bounding forward with more speed than one would expect from such a large shifter.

The thing, whatever it was, might not have been clever, but it wasn’t deaf. It whipped around as the lamia barreled down upon it, a long, prehensile tongue rocketing out of its gaping mouth (ew) and shooting right for the massive alligator-creature’s throat. Wyatt felt it make contact but didn’t slow down, crashing down onto the humanoid with 2,000 pounds of weight. And that mass may have been his only saving grace, because the ustras’s venom didn’t immediately paralyze him, though he did quickly notice he was having difficulty with his flexibility.

Sometimes, having such a large snout was a hindrance, and he couldn’t quite get a good grip on the creature. Besides that, it was stronger than it looked, holding his jaws apart while the spines on its back stabbed into his tongue and coated his mouth in a horrible, bitter taste. He tried to bite down, snorting and huffing and generally making a pretty big fuss over it as he lost more and more of his mobility. His breaths became faster, more panicked as he realized something was wrong. The tongue that’d attached itself to his neck had retreated from that spot, but he thought he felt it on the roof of his mouth, instead.

The shifter let out a terrified bellow, and it was pretty clear he was rapidly losing the ability to defend himself.

—

It was talking, yes. Nicole wasn’t hallucinating. Somewhat of a relief but— What the fuck? Provided she made it out alive out of this new encounter with a deadly creature, she’d have to go look into reptile shifters. The one joining forces with her tonight must’ve had such incredible control over its transformation to be able to do any of that. A wave of admiration swept through her as she held the crocodile’s gaze for a moment, though it was quickly replaced by the more familiar cocktail of guilt and shame. Whose fault was it that she couldn’t claim to have equal control over her shifts? Right.

Nicole stepped nearer, picking up on new details on the other creature’s face. The slimy complexion, the unsettling muscles for such a small body. And the tongue, impossibly long as it was flaunted in a threatening manner. This was supposed to be good, however. The monster thought Nicole was stupid enough to get close with no plan. Perhaps it was already thinking how it was going to feed off her. But Nicole was counting on the element of surprise, even as she had to dodge another wad of spit aimed at her. She recovered just in time to see the crocodile hybrid charge at the monster. The thud shook the ground beneath her boots, but it was hardly an inconvenience when she was certain this meant the quick hashed out plan had worked and the enemy had been defeated.

It— It didn’t look like the crocodile was winning, though. Not after the initial collision, where he had come out on top. The long-haired monster made good use of those muscles, preventing the animal's maw from delivering a final blow that surely would’ve resulted in the creature’s demise. After that, the reptile thing began struggling. Nicole noticed its lethargic movements, heard its erratic breathing, as the horrible monster proved to have more than vile spit to defend itself. Making it a tricky opponent. They had underestimated it solely on their size. Nicole should’ve known better than that.

In the face of adversity, it was the moment to consider her options. She could run, that thought hardly ever left her. She could run and let this crocodile hybrid perish. The monster wasn’t agile enough for her, and she knew the woods well enough to lose it amid the trees. But she had this thing —a conscience— keeping her rooted to her spot. The crocodile— alligator… fuck if she knew, had intervened before, when it was Nicole’s life on the line. She should return the favor. She should return the favor not only because it was the right thing to do, but because she still believed they couldn’t let a monster like that get away and risk innocent people from stumbling upon it. A pulse, cold but insistent, struck in her chest. The jaguar wanted something. To fight. To solve this. Save her and the crocodile. She was reluctant, not so much out of fear of her own spirit anymore, but in an attempt to protect what remained of the beast. Are you sure? She asked. Another pulse in response. They had a small advantage, she figured. Knowing how the monster took down bigger predators. Her heart pounded in her ears as understanding dawned on her: It might as well be their only chance.

Her body shook as she released a calming breath. Her muscles were still tight, shoulders still tense, but there was no time to collect herself. Nicole pleaded with the spirit for a smooth transition. And luckily for her, the jaguar was in a mood to comply. It ripped through her in an ethereal mist, its physical shift so quick, she barely registered any pain. The beast was already in motion as its paws stepped into the forest floor, leaping with coiled energy toward the monster. Feral bite found purchase in the creature’s windpipe, tearing and mangling. Gurgling noises filled the night air as the vampire released its grip on the alligator and attempted to take down the jaguar too. Two beasts against one, there was no chance it was walking out this in one piece.

—

The corners of Wyatt’s vision darkened dangerously and he shook his great head to try to fight it off, but his movements were becoming more restricted by the moment. He couldn’t kill it. He just needed to bite down on its stupid head and rip it off, and he couldn’t. It was poisoning him, paralyzing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was helpless… and that was a new feeling. A new fear. He’d never been helpless before. He’d never lost a fight before. Never been in a position he couldn’t get himself back out of, if he really put his mind to it. Even that night that Owen had dragged him out to the woods and fed him a deer to help him heal his wounds, he would have lived if left on his own, it just might not have been pretty. But this? This thing was intent on feeding, and it would make sure there wasn’t enough left of Wyatt to heal. He was going to die, unless—

Something came barrelling into them, and suddenly the pressure of the ustra’s tongue as it tried to slip down the back of his throat was gone. His jaws fell shut, snapping loudly and allowing him to finally see what was—oh.

There was a wildcat. Not the Wildcat, not Felix, but a cat nonetheless. Yellow, slitted eyes watched the feline tear at the throat of the creature, adrenaline dumping in his system once more as renewed hope tried to lift him from where he lay among the grass and reeds. “Rip…” Wyatt wheezed at the cat, shifting lamely in the mud. “Rip the h-head off…” It was meant to be a much more inspiring shout but he could hardly speak, let alone yell. “Watch out for… spines.. tongue.” Ugh. He had to help hold the thing still if he could—he was already succumbing to the paralysis, so what did a little more matter? With one final great burst of effort, the lamia heaved himself forward and let the weight of his head crash down on top of the ustra, pinning it to the ground across its legs and middle and leaving the head and throat exposed for the balam to take care of.

—

The instruction was lost on the jaguar, who –at best– was able to pick up on a certain inflection in the other animal’s cry. A warning of sorts. With the momentary advantage of a disarming tackle, the jaguar examined its foe. Of course, it was no common prey. If it was prey at all. The jaguar had watched it measure up to the much larger alligator with relative ease before it intervened. So what was it? What made it a formidable opponent despite its ordinary size? The jaguar battled against a slimy composition, slippery as the monster tried getting away despite its torn throat. Dark blood oozed from the injury, coating the jaguar’s fur. It had seen something similar before. In the beast with red eyes, the one who attacked amidst the red fog. Angry about the similarities, angry about being overpowered at the time, the jaguar took it on the monster beneath. Its sharp claws sliced the head, and a screech cut through the air.

And then the booming of a heavyweight slamming against the forest floor froze everything for a moment. The monster had been pinned down by the alligator, who had dragged himself to help. Not even the slippery build of the monster would be able to slide away now. And it seemed to be aware of its imminent demise. Poisonous spit came out aimlessly, as much as it could produce with a torn mouth, but it never landed on the jaguar. Who, wasting no time, lunged forward again, aiming to rip the head off. Viciously tearing through flesh, trying to find a tasty bit to chew on, but giving up when nothing satisfied it. What a nasty creature. What remained of the head rolled down the grass, with a look of horror plastered on its ugly features and its once dangerous tongue hanging out of its mouth. But the jaguar cared very little now, a limp body lay beneath it. This was no meal. But—

It turned toward the alligator, getting a better look at the animal. The jaguar tilted its head curiously. It wouldn’t feast on the monster, its bitter taste still coating the jaguar’s mouth, but wouldn’t the alligator be fair game? It was weakened, bordering on paralyzed. A pathetic beast on the ground. An easier prey would never be seen; rather, not of this size. The jaguar had been unlucky in past outings. The red fog, the beast that cut its tail, the giant termites, and so on. Was tonight the night it gained back its pride, its title of predator? It would be so nice, to wash the awful taste of the monster with a more enticing meal. It stalked forward, amber gaze fixed on the back of the animal’s skull. Where it could land a merciful blow. Rarely inclined to violence for the sake of it. The alligator had the human’s back after all. But something pushed underneath the surface, slowed down its movements. Tried suppressing the animal instinct, the predator impulse that made this the inevitable conclusion to the evening.

The jaguar grumbled in protest, and unlike the time against the insects, nothing about the battle for the body was kind. Neither the human nor the spirit wanted to let go. There was no kindness or understanding between them. The human wanted control. The jaguar fought back and came out on top, for a moment. Dissuaded from taking on the alligator just yet. Its tongue dragged across razor-sharp teeth, but instead of pouncing, the jaguar approached slowly, its stump for a tail stood tall. Alert. Why would the human –Nicole, it conceded reluctantly– oppose eating it? She never had before. What the jaguar did, was the jaguar’s choice. That much they agreed on.

But the alligator had made sounds before, hadn’t he? Was that the reason for apprehension? There was no spirit within him, so— What made it different from a common alligator? It was the moment of curiosity, of indecision that had Nicole grasping control. Holding onto consciousness, navigating through the mist, until the jaguar’s body shifted to fit her. Her eyes were wide in surprise, as the edge of the lake welcomed her back into the world. How the fuck did she do that? “What do you need?” she rasped out, a shaky hand reaching for the crocodile’s— or, well she still wasn’t sure— she touched a massive jaw, self-preservation going out of the window at the sight of the animal struggling with his body.

—

The relief was immense as the cat ripped the stupid beast’s head off, and for a moment, Wyatt was able to relax. That is until he instinctively tried to get back to his feet, only to remember that he could not. Letting out a long, weary sigh, the gator tried to focus on the positive—at least his lungs were still working in spite of the paralytic. It’d be unfortunate if those gave out. Unable to do much else, he laid there in the muck, yellow eyes closed in an attempt to find some calm. But… what of the cat? The woman?

He peeked with one eye and saw the balam staring at him with a look in its eye that was… unsettling. Familiar—he’d seen it enough times in the reflections of glass and water, but unsettling to be on the other side of it. His jaws parted and he let out a low, rumbling hiss—a warning to back off, as best he could convey in his current state. Something worked, because eventually the cat’s temperament seemed to even out, and then she was back. The woman from the woods.

Her hand reached for him and he snorted, keeping his mouth open as he felt her fingers brush close to his teeth. Speaking was… proving to be a challenge. He considered shifting to look more like her, but there was a fear that if he got any smaller, the paralytic would do even more damage. All he could do was flick his gaze in the direction of the water, then back down at her. His mouth slowly closed, careful not to catch any of her phalanges, and he tried to get a few words out on the exhale.

“Home. Warm.” His cabin was across the water, visible as pricks of golden light shining from between the trees on the distant shore. “... push.” His limbs that didn’t want to work right stirred to life, lethargic but scraping and scrabbling in the dirt as he tried to hoist himself up off his belly and drag himself closer to the water. Floating back home would be much easier... all he needed to manage was a few flicks of his tail now and then.

—

For a second time in such a short period, Nicole had managed to revert the jaguar’s shift. How? What had changed for them to suddenly find ways to understand one another? Was she simply getting better at controlling the beast? It wasn’t the time to celebrate, however. Her chest felt chilly and tight, as if the spirit was trying to squeeze back into position. And in front of her, the crocodile —or…?— looking all too fragile for such a powerful animal. Blood pounded in her ears while she approached the beast. She kept her palm as far away from its teeth as possible, trying not to get bitten in the process. He was struggling, visibly. Bile rose in her throat watching the animal as he tried to communicate. Had the jaguar struggled similarly, with the sleeping dart? Did it put up a fight against the hunter? Tears stung in her eyes, but quickly batted them away. She couldn’t entertain those thoughts when her help was needed.

Home. As soon as he spoke, Nicole’s gaze darted to the lake. Then spotted the lights in the distance, eyebrows knitting while she contemplated the instruction. He certainly didn’t expect her to carry him all the way to the cabin. Right? She was as strong as a firefighter could be, sure, but not carrying a crocodile-alligator-human strong. So— The cabin… The water. Was he like Teagan? Could the lake heal him? Was that what— Did that make him closer to fae than to shifters like herself? Shit. Hardly mattered, didn’t it? What the reasoning behind his instruction was. He wanted to get back into the lake, that much Nicole could understand. “Okay. I will. Need a second” she nodded, pushing herself off the ground.

Nicole felt the harsh cold against her skin as she searched around for the clothes that were left behind during the shift. Just like her previous encounter with the other jaguar, some of her clothes didn’t survive. When she returned to camp, how the fuck was she going to explain the torn pants? If the plan was to keep making impromptu shifts —her stomach weighed heavy with anxiety, disagreeing with the idea— then she would have to come up with a better system to keep her things safe. She didn't have a large closet to begin with. She couldn’t keep losing more items because of the jaguar. That would be entertaining for Leah, wouldn’t it? A quick excuse to restock her wardrobe. She mentally groaned at the idea of going shopping. She seized her pants and her windbreaker jacket, and quickly put on her clothes again, uncomfortably aware that there was a crocodile gasping and writhing not too far from her.

But with some layers on, Nicole felt more at ease and prepared to tackle the task at hand. Pushing the animal back to the water. Couldn’t be that hard, especially with the beast trying to help despite being under the effects of the monster’s spit. She moved closer, positioning just behind him and pushed with everything she had left. He didn’t move much, or fast at all, but a few breaks to catch her breath and then finally, came the splashing sound as he slipped inside the lake. Nicole didn’t move, fear bubbling in her chest, frozen as she watched the animal get accustomed to the water. Waiting for something to go wrong. Could he even swim? But he did. He floated, slowly but surely he began moving, switching directions toward his cabin, and then drifted away.

—

Well… he’d certainly had better hunts. In fact, this might’ve been the worst one thus far. His mother’s voice filled the silence between their joined efforts to get him back in the water. I done told ya boy, ya can’t go messin’ wid every critter ya see. ‘Specially dem ones dat ain’t in da Britannicas. Sense, ya gotta have some sense! She was right, as usual. It’d been stupid to go after that thing like he had—he just hoped the cost of his ego wasn’t permanent.

Hissing a sigh of relief as his body finally slid into the water, the gator immediately felt somewhat better now that his own body weight wasn’t slowing him down so much, supported by his natural buoyancy. He began to drift back toward his cabin without a word, but then thought better of it. Manners. Manners n’ sense, n’ you’ll get t’rough dis world just fine, boy.

Angling his head back in the stranger’s direction, he blinked his yellow eyes slowly like a cat might to show trust. They’d probably get that. With some effort, the lamia lifted his head more fully out of the water, parting his jaws to speak again.

“Thanks,” he groaned. “Wyatt Barlow. Look me up. Owe you a drink.” And with that, he ducked down again so only his eyes showed above the water, flicking his tail as best he could and steering himself back toward the opposite shore.

#. thread ;#. with ; nicole salazar #. paralyzer ;

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nicolesainz · 2 years

Text

New Romantics (Part IV)

Carlos Sainz x OC x Mason Mount

Warnings: sexual themes, 18+, fantasies, and a tad of fluff

Chapter 5

Carlos POV

I could throw up the second I laid my eyes on this so wrong moment. The vodka rushing through my veins was being injected into my brain, making me break the glass I was holding on my hand.

“What the fuck dude! You’re bleeding!” Lando exclaimed loudly as he saw the glass being shattered onto the floor and into my hand, causing the bleeding.

Of course, I didn’t respond. My eyes were still glued on Quinn being held firmly by Mason. His hands were caressing her back while they were occupying each other by kissing.

They suddenly stopped the moment her brother started asking for help due to my accident. I quickly looked down to my bleeding hand. Oh this definitely would give me a disadvantage for tomorrow’s race. It’ll hurt like a bitch trying to hold the steering wheel.

Through the noise of Lando’s voice mixed with the music echoing, I felt a hand grabbing my injured palm. Mine and Quinn’s eyes locked as I felt shivers down my spine. This was wrong. I couldn’t. I took my hand away from hers without saying anything

“How did that happen? We need to get you to the hospital!” she was still looking at me full of worry while I was completely emotionless.

“It’s fine. I’ll wrap it with a few bandages, take a painkiller and sleep the pain off” I replied to her blandly

“You’re joking? Right? There’s no way you’re not getting stitches. You have to go to the hospital”

“There’s so fucking way I’m going there! I have a race in less than 12 hours and I’m not risking it”

“So you prefer to die from continuous bleeding?”

“Yes! Leave it, I’ll be fine”

“Carlos please be sensible! You have a full cut. And how did that even happen?”

“None of your business Quinn. Drop it. I’m going back to the hotel. Tell your brother so he doesn’t worry” I almost yelled at her. It hurt me to do that but jealousy had taken over me, which made me indeed want to die

“I’m coming with you” she followed me outside of the club. “There’s no way you’ll drive with on hand and the other injured Carlos!”

“Not my first rodeo. And don’t come. I’ll be more than fine” my back was still facing her as I was unlocking my car

“I can’t leave you alone! Let me help you” I still wonder how her voice was so calm after how I would reply so mean to her

“I don’t need your help. Go back to your boyfriend” I regretted saying this phrase the moment it left my lips. A nauseous feeling came around once more

Quinn stood still, trying to process what I just had said to her. I caught a slight glimpse of the quizzical look in her face. Then, I saw that Mason was coming out of the club too, apparently looking for her.

I got in the car and turned the engine on. Thankfully it was my left hand which was injured and not the right, which is the one I use more. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to get back to the hotel by myself.

From the rear mirror I could see Mason’s arms being wrapped around Quinn’s shoulders which made my hand grip even tighter the steering wheel. Fucking hell. I wasn’t even thinking about my hand right now. She was occupying my thoughts when she shouldn’t have.

Luckily, I arrived at the hotel safely, holding my hand and covering the blood from dropping to the floor. One of the hotels receptionist saw me and immediately rushed to ask me if I needed anything. I kindly replied that I need a few bandages and some alcohol to clean the wound. Soon, I was on the bathroom floor, cleaning up the mess on my hand and tying it up hardly.

My head was buzzing and wouldn’t stop, so a painkiller did the work for me. Double work. I threw all my clothes on a corner and wore only a simple tracksuit. I fell on the bed, resting my hand away from my body. All the lights were switched off and tried to forced myself to sleep.

Whenever I shut my eyes, she would appear in front of me. Her vision the first time I met her. She was like an angel had fallen on earth. Beautiful and constantly smiling. So innocent and pure.

Everything was feeling hot and heavy around me. Nothing could make this night better. Except, if she was wrapped around me. Nothing can help me relax, so I decide to punish myself even further.

I closed my eyes once and lowered my trousers up to my hips. My hand slipped underneath my boxers and I could feel the pre cum surrounding the tip of my cock. She appeared once more on my thoughts, wearing exactly what she had at the celebratory party at McLaren in 2019. A tight red dress, which was hugging her curvy waist perfectly. Red lipstick and her hair loose with a braided halo. Beautiful as always.

My hand started pumping myself and moving up and down in a fast pace, as I remember her sitting drunkenly in between my legs. I wouldn’t dare to touch her. We were simply talking but my mind wouldn’t stop reminding me how much I wanted to kiss her.

I let out a soft moan with the thought of her being underneath me. Under my control. Her hands roaming all over my body as I leave wet kisses all over her breasts. I bite my lip thinking how I’d die just to hear her scream my name, knowing I make her feel good and pleasing her. I’m at a high and my hand is racing faster than it was before, realizing I’m about to finish.

The way she’s capable of driving me insane is impossible. Having fantasies about a woman who is clearly not interested in me and thinking how good her kisses would feel on every part of me is so wrong. But it would feel so damn right.

I finally let myself cum, exhaling deeply. It’s been almost a day since we reconciled after almost 2 years of not having seen each other and I’m already dreaming about her.

After I go and clean up myself, i grab my phone and look through my contacts, finding her phone number. I have her saved as “little norris trouble”. I smile and think what she’d say if she knew that I still have her phone and have her saved like this. I am fighting the urge to text her. Should I? Should I not?

It’s 2 am in the morning. She’s probably sleeping. Is she though? Maybe she’s still out? Maybe she’s back at the hotel? I hate all this questions going back and forth inside my brain, so I just type the text and hit send without second thoughts.

Me : thank you for offering to help me and I apologIze for acting like a dick.

My heart is rushing, waiting for the reply. Will she reply? Does she still have my number? Maybe she’s blocked me? Oh my god!

Then, a cling sounded from my phone. It was her!

Little Norris Trouble : don’t worry carlos, i understand. i just want you to be safe. how’s your hand by the way?

She still has my number. And as it seems she’s not sleeping.

Me : it’s numb, but we’ll see tomorrow. are you back from the club? do you want me to pick you up?

Little Norris Trouble : i’m back, thankfully. just can’t sleep

Me : you need to rest. the race is early tomorrow and lando usually gets to the track very early

Little Norris Trouble : oh fuck him! I’ll see what I can do.

Me : I’ll let you to your peace. I just wanted to say I’m sorry once again and I hope I’m forgiven

Little Norris Trouble : it’s in the past now, you’re forgiven mr sainz. Although it may be a bit difficult rooting for you tomorrow from your ex teams garage. They’ll kick me out if they see me.

Root for me? This brings back so many memories. I remember that one time, in order to piss off her brother, she wore McLaren merch with my number only on it. A hat, a jersey and a flag. Lando wasn’t very pleased but then she wore a hat with his number. It pleased me that she kept wearing the shirt.

I wonder if she still has these. The shirt and everything. Maybe she’s thrown them away. I’ll never find out and I’m too much of a coward to ask

Me : be careful! you may end up being sprayed with champagne if I get a podium!

Little Norris Trouble : that’d be very entertaining. It’s been a minute since I’ve done that

Me : well, time to have some fun again.

Little Norris Trouble : damn right. Good night Carlos! And good luck for tomorrow! You’ve got this!

Me : Good night Quinn. Thank you for everything. See you tomorrow

At least we can talk now to each other without stuttering. That’s a step forwards!

(I know it’s a short chapter but I wrote it in 1.30 hours. I just wanted to update the story and keep it going! Hope you enjoyyyy!)

#formula 1 #carlos sainz f1 #ferrari #fanfic #oneshot #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fanfic

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professionallydeadinside · 8 months

Note

AAAA YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY :)

So their son is much much less of a finished character, more of just a shell of an idea right now. So I headcannon Crane to live outside of Gotham post-Scarecrow because in many forms of media he has a horse and there is no way in hell a wanted criminal is going to succesfully take care of a horse under the radar in a city of 30 million + people. I also imagine Wilhelm to have a horse. Because I love horses. So they live in a little house with a few acres of land outside of Gotham, and they have their horses and a few pet crows.

Now we get to the kid. We have a three year old boy who (I've yet to come up with a decent explanation why) has a unique power that his parents accidentally discovered when he stepped on an ant. He can turn into and ant at will all of a sudden! This terrifies his mom and dad, as it should. But they get used to it, until he accidentally kills a caterpillar and can all of a sudden become a caterpillar too. By deduction, they discover that their little boy can shapeshift into any creature that he kills.

Now this is all fine and dandy, as long as he stops stepping on goddamn bugs, so they move on with life. At some point, they decide to go camping outside of the city when they get into a fatal car accident. Fatal for the parents, at least. The kid wanders off with a concussion. He somehow survives the first couple of days without eating or drinking anything but survival instincts kick in when he comes across an injured and bloodied fox. He finishes the poor thing off and makes a meal of it, but he's not a stupid kid so he uses this to adapt. He finds a burrow of foxes and uses his gift to take what he can from meals and learn from afar how to get meals of his own. He uses his new predatory abilities to kill more animals for food. A rabbit, a frog, a squirrel. A crow.

But naturally life isn't easy for a small child, now five years old, fending for himself for the most part. Luckily, he found out about the two gay freaks who live on the forests' edge that like to take care of crows. Surely they'd have room for one more, if an injured little crow chick were to show on their doorstep. So he does the only sensible thing, which is purposefully run as hard as he can into a tree and then waddle over to their doorstep. When Jonathan goes out to feed the horses in the morning, there he is, crying in pain. Of course the little funky bird man would drop everything and rush him inside. Jonathan and Wilhelm make him a sort of makeshift cast for his injured wing and place him under watchful care.

Then one evening, when the two return home from terrorizing Gotham City, there's a little human boy in their kitchen. Now obviously this raises a ton of questions but it's not like they're threatened. He's five. So they sit him down at the kitchen table, give him some ice cream, and start interrogating the ever loving hell out of him. "How did you get in our house?" "Where are your parents?" And of course he has the answer to none of this, he's been fending for himself for at least a year and children don't have the ability to retain memories until at least the age of three. The only thing he has a possible answer for is "What's your name?" "mama and daddy used to say i was ant a lot." After a lot of unanswered questions and a display of Ant's transformative abilities, Wilhelm and Jonathan decide to keep him at least until his wing - or arm - is healed. Spoiler alert, they keep him a hell of a lot longer than that.

SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY I WAS IN THE SHOWER WAKJHGFDFGHHJG

BUT WHAT A WEIRD LITTLE BOY I LOVE HIM!!! ANT!!! Also that's a super cool power idea??? Him only being able to shapeshift into whatever he kills can lead to really interesting plot points I love it

#ALSO LOVE THAT THEY'RE LIKE ''FUCK WE CANT KEEP HIM TOO LONG.'' TO ''UH OH.'' KJHGFDSDFGH THATS TOP TIER #answered

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collymore · 2 years

Text

Bi-sexual adulterer weds stalker he dumped for 10 years but ensures she gets the title his murdered mum once had.

By Stanley Collymore Mrs. Stepford wife and broodmare Kate Middleton looked relatively healthy when she first married into the Windsor Klan, now she looks like a stick figure and clearly dresses like an old woman as she effectively permanently, totally obviously ages awfully. And rather frankly anyone who thinks she's beautiful is either a typically deranged brownnosing sycophant or otherwise, distinctly desperately requires a significant course of crucial ophthalmology! Frankly, Kate Middleton is really undeniably clearly a discernibly rather noxiously toxic bore and an evilly white Karen trollop so likemindedly as William a very vilely, pathetic prat, who never once either supported or really actually wanted to, his brother Harry, or essentially made any comments whatever when his wife Meghan and likewise too Harry himself repeatedly had to endure endless, sick abuse, aptly proffered, by rightwing Nazi rags, like the Daily Mail! And similarly both financially and purposely instigated in briefings from Kensington as well as Buckingham Palace with absolutely the unquestionably full knowledge, authorization and too the furtive egregious cooperation of landed luckily elevated stalker Kate Middleton, odious hardcore quite breathtakingly, adulterous slapper, the evidently notorious Camilla Parker Bowles, actually nowt sensibly, but a thoroughly noxious post menopausal clear Karen relic, and effectively too to you brownnosers your dear Windsor monarchical consort, by another name. And clearly, adulterous William, evidently minus obviously any genuine courage, or also conscionable worth to effectively, basically emulate Philip Schofield and reveal, what he undoubtedly is: a surreptitiously, married bisexual, with a distinctively quite marked preference for what's his biological gender. Accounts for why there's no natural chemistry, between dull Willie and Waity Katie. None of these Windsors have ever achieved their exalted positions through effort, hard work or ability; as what they have was all handed to them on a platter; so why, should intelligent people, as apart from discernibly basically rank very intellectually challenged morons and likewise friends of theirs: distinctively so undeniable pillocks, clearly like Jeremy Clarkson, Piers Morgan, obviously the Dykes and Queer Palace stooges; and irrefutably too, the well remunerated rags and media - like the Daily Mail along with their vile, brainless hacks - realistically be literally forced to admire them if quite sensibly we don't find them in the least noble, or trust them? (C) Stanley V. Collymore 23 December 2022. Author's Remarks: Adulterous conduct is discernibly rife throughout the irrefutably, unethical, vile Saxe-Coburg-Gothe-Mountbatten-Windsor Klan among both their men and women, is too generally expected and likewise a rite of passage among the lot of them. So too is bastardy, the often basically hidden production of very genetically malformed offspring, basically because of the clear logically distinctly and inherently incestuously inbred nature of this unethical family. And those such mongrelized versions of themselves not medically killed off at birth are put away in select homes never to be seen, spoken of, or heard of ever again! Similarly so noticeably homosexuality and lesbianism are basically rampant among this lot, just as it evidently was among major family members who're now dead. Paedophilia quite similarly and essentially so! Jimmy Savile had the entire run literally effectively of their palaces and stately homes and was as well obviously best mates with most of them; so too was Bishop Peter Ball, likewise also Aussie Rolf Harris, Jeffrey Epstein and clearly Ghislaine Maxwell to name just a few of these odious sorts that the Windsors dearly love to have as their bosom pals. William is basically a treacherous sell out when it comes to his mum Diana; as he knows she was murdered and at whose instigation it was, just as Harry and anyone with a functioning and a quite conscionable brain knows, that what occurred in Paris was distinctly so no fucking accident period. Diana was Charles' legitimate wife as all the knowledgeable world does know but Camilla wasn't Charles' only mistress. Kanga Kyron similarly was also, but crucially she was very specifically a real rival to Camilla and similarly as well a household name and likewise a central figure in Charles' life. But she quite untowardly lost her life in very strange circumstances almost THREE months after Diana was murdered. How convenient for Camilla Parker Bowles the adulterous slapper! A vile death, Kanga Tyron's, which basically has disgustingly been quite purposely rather conveniently forgotten both by the Establishment and so significantly as well her murderers. All the same there's an abundance of research material about this woman even by the Daily Mail, which rather obviously at no time really, seriously expected the trollop Camilla Parker Bowles, an exact carbon copy of her whoring great grandmother and longstanding mistress of Edward VII Bowles and for all we know might even be biologically related to Charles who is himself the great grandson of that same Edward VII, to realistically ever be in the position that obviously she's now in, relative to all you evilly, fawning monarchical serfs. Naturally interestingly and quite stupidly to intelligent minds, of which there’s a dearth of them in the UK, such whoring, white trollops are always so euphemistically labelled as “socialites “and whatever vainglorious terminology their ilk, the media and brownnosers alike assume that they can get away with; but if this were some other woman not that socially connected she would undoubtedly and most horrifically be castigated as what she really is, no matter the circumstances under which she carried out her whoring activities. Quite typical really, of endemically classed infected and deeply inured, utter pathetic class structured Britain. As for Kate Middleton this phoney with her now contrived and "cultivated" fake posh accent couldn't be any further removed from being a positive role model of any kind. Since this lazy, avidly social climbing, hateful and quite jealous of those evidently more gifted than she is or could rather realistically ever hope to be; a perniciously evil, white Karen and an irrefutably also inured racist bitch of the worst kind, has essentially and pathetically never had a full time job a in her fucking life and has literally always lived off of other people's money. A 40 year old woman, Kate Middleton, who significantly has actually achieved nothing whatsoever on merit. But thankfully there are undoubtedly some women in Britain who've achieved by dint of their individual ability far more; and that's what equality of opportunity, meritocracy and also genuine democracy is naturally all about. Not this vile fucking medieval nonsense that these odious pillocks and their kiss me ass fawners reprehensibly represent.

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boysweets · 2 years

Text

﹪ ALL NIGHT LONG : shigaraki tomura ★

$ dom!shigaraki tomura x sub!male reader

🔒 WARNINGS: smut, male on male action, degradation, mentions of humiliation, slight roughness, orgasm denial, brat-ish reader.. idk I’m bad at warnings. fetishizers do not interact.

BROKEN SOBS escaped from between a pair of wet lips, tears of pleasure trailing down a warm face. Meanwhile, a tall menacing figure stood over the boy, breaking him into small pieces.

The figure was none other than Shigaraki Tomura. And the broken boy beneath him was (Last Name) (Name). It was no brainer that Shigaraki was obviously the one responsible for making a mess out of (Name).

A sinister chuckle bounced off the bedroom walls, causing shivers to erupt down (Name)'s spine.

Shigaraki's heated gaze suddenly intensifies as he watched the boy squirm around in bed, helpless to the hands roaming over his body. The albino's right hand was holding (Name)'s chest down while the other hand was working on (Name)'s dick.

Thanks to the villain, (Name) had just previously experienced three amazing orgasms. However, by the third time he came, his body reached it's full limit of sensitivity. To think that he couldn't handle anymore touches from eight fingers was embarrassing and degrading to the (color)-haired boy.

Shigaraki wasn't even capable of touching the boy with his hands without physically destroying him, yet here (Name) was, sobbing over a fucking hand job.

And (Name) could practically feel the pride radiating from miles away in Shigaraki. The stupid smirk on his face wanted to make the younger boy punch him in the teeth. But (Name) knew better. Challenging Shigaraki now out of all times would only lead to further humiliation and embarrassment.

"You know, (Name)? Considering this is our first time doing anything like this... you cum way too fucking easily. I haven't even pulled out my dick yet and you're already crying from just my fingers? How much of a slut are you?" Shigaraki mocked your vulnerable form, delighted as your whimpers increased in volume.

His hand suddenly picks up the speed, pumping your dick at a such a euphoric pace. Your hands suddenly grips the sheets tighter, his rough fingers doing wonders to your cock. You felt your thighs tremble from the pleasure, the sensation in your stomach building up by the second.

You choked on air as the urgent need to cum suddenly swarms in your mind, your senses all being blocked out as you can only focus on shigaraki's hand.

out of nowhere, a sharp slap to your thigh suddenly pulls you out of your haze, causing a strangled noise to erupt from your throat. A whine leaves you as you realized shigaraki had took his hand away from your aching cock, which was just seconds away from cumming.

Despite your fucked out expression, you mustered the strength to shoot a glare at Shigaraki for stopping so suddenly.

He simply returned one back.

"Now's not the time to act like a fucking brat. What did I tell you earlier about trying to cum without permission?" Shigaraki glares down at you, his voice sounding more assertive than ever.

You fought the urge to cuss him out for ruining your orgasm. You were so close. At this point, it hurts to feel pleasure. It would hurt even more to cum. But the pain was so delicious, you craved more of it. You had no choice but to follow shigaraki's lead to satisfy your addiction.

You glare faded as your eyes looked away from him. You couldn't believe what you were about to do.

"Not... not to cum..." you forced the words out of your mouth, praying that it came out in a sensible manner. You hated repeating yourself, and Shigaraki hated making you repeat your words even more. But you were so exhausted, you couldn't even speak properly unless you actually tried.

you continued when no response came from Shigaraki. "-'M sorry, won't happen again, just please... please let me cum." You asked, your voice cracking slightly as you looked in his red eyes with a begging look.

Luckily, god seem to be on your side today as a satisfied grin dances on the villain's lips.

"That's more like it. I like it when my boyfriend's more vulnerable like this. I wonder if your body can handle my dick next? You came a lot already, so it would hurt to cum more, right?" Shigaraki questions in a teasing tone, his fingers tracing your hips and waist as his hold on your cock returns. "You probably don't even wanna cum anymore, huh?"

You frantically shook your head 'no!', another broken sob leaving you. "No! 'M wanna cum! I wanna cum!" You pleaded in a desperate voice.

At that moment, Shigaraki couldn't believe the power he held over you. Just a while ago, he could've sworn he saw the embarrassment in your eyes when you first came wrapped around his fingers. Now, you were begging to feel his touches again.

His fast strokes return once again, making you choke out from surprise. A loud moan left your mouth, feeling shameless. You didn't care anymore. You just wanted to cum again.

"Cum, then." Shigaraki gives out the approval, allowing you to thrust your hips into his hand. You chased your orgasm, more tears escaping your eyes as you can feel yourself getting closer.

Then, it happens. You saw nothing but white for a minute, your body becoming extremely tensed with your back arched as you came hard. It hurts so much, yet it felt amazing.

When you came down from your high, your body finally relaxes. You had to take deep breaths to calm yourself. You were tired. You rolled over to your side, not even caring about the cum that painted the sheets and your stomach. You would worry about it in the morning. For now, you would focus on catching up on your rest instead.

The villain suddenly spoke up.

"You don't think we're done, do you? We still have a whole night ahead of us."

#★ — harmfoul writes #shigaraki tomura #bottom male reader #male reader blog #shigaraki x male reader #mha x male reader #mha x poc!reader #gay #masc reader #shigaraki x reader #fujoshis dni #nsft #smut #hispanic reader #mha villains #bnha villains #★ — harmfoul thirsts #★ — harmfoul drabbles

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quillsthrills · 2 years

Text

Drunk Penelope

The ball two evenings ago had been mind-numbingly tedious, the only highlight being Eloise’s refusal of a particularly awkward and unwanted proposal. Afterwards, they decided to sneak away early and smuggled quite a significant amount of wine with them in the carriage, which they proceeded to drink on the swings in the Bridgerton garden. They wiled away the warm evening taking turns to read aloud from an illicit and deliciously scandalous book on relations between men and women, that Penelope had laid her hands on while out on Whistledown business. The two friends were guffawing in a none-too-ladylike manner at the description of the well-endowed hero of the story and his swoon-worthy derriere, determining with mock earnestness that these attributes should be added to their list of demands for a desirable suitor, in addition to the half a brain that seemed so elusive among the ton’s gentlemen.

Penelope was now lying flat on her back in the grass with her legs resting on the swing, stockings bared to the balmy evening. In tears from laughing, she managed to squeak:

“As much as it pains me, I think, given a choice, I would rather half a brain than half an Arbor Vitae”.

And then she heard the very deliberate clearing of a throat.

Standing before them was the Viscount Bridgerton himself, back from an evening at Will Mondrich’s club and looking as if he was readying himself for a lecture. To make matters worse, he was accompanied by Benedict and Colin, both more than a little unsteady on their feet and completely incapable of hiding their mirth.

“Well, well, well”, slurred Benedict, “this is most enlightening indeed.”

“Luckily, and while we might only possess half a brain between us, I believe the trees in our garden are all fully grown”, added Colin, causing Eloise to spray her mouthful of wine through her nose.

“Colin for heaven’s sake, mind your mouth,” barked Anthony. “Eloise! What do you think you are doing?”

“I am reading and resting after an evening of dancing with dull but distinguished gentlemen, all very respectable pursuits for a young lady I should think.”

Penelope could not help herself, the bright stars and velvety caress of the evening breeze contributing to her intoxication and complete lack of care. She added:

“We were also making an eminently sensible list of eligibility criteria for suitors, and this was the closest equivalent to child-bearing hips”.

The Viscount’s list had been the source of many jokes in the Bridgerton household, the chief instigator being the new Viscountess. Still, Penelope knew she might have (probably had) overstepped, despite her practically being part of the family.

Anthony closed his eyes briefly and then sighed, the side of his mouth twitching slightly.

“Eloise, we shall have a word while I escort you to your room. Benedict… Never mind. Colin could you please, discreetly, ensure that Miss Featherington gets home safely.”

As Penelope tried to get up, she saw that Benedict lay splayed on the ground humming happily to himself, whereas Colin stood above her with his hand extended, a wicked smile on his lips and his eyes crinkling with humour. They started on their way, very slowly, and just as she thought they might remain silent he said, chuckling:

“That was quite a list.”

“Well,” she said, trying to sound lucid and reasonable, “it is a bit of guesswork really. We do not all have the luxury of consorting with opera singers or exotic strangers in foreign lands to find out what we should be looking for in that regard. We may not even sample the goods in order to determine whether we are in fact compatible with our intended when kissing.”

By God she really was drunk. Colin turned towards her, wearing a very serious expression.

“That is indeed unfair,” he said solemnly, a slight thickening of the f in unfair the only sign that he too was far from sober. “Perhaps lessons in kissing and cavorting ought to be added to embroidery and the piano forte.”

“And are you volunteering your services for this noble purpose Mr. Bridgerton?” she laughed, but stopped abruptly when she felt him tense. This time she had gone too far.

#polin #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #penelope featheringon #colin bridgerton #colin and penelope #penelope and colin #bridgerton

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

i love your metas! I just discovered them today and have spent all afternoon reading them. I have two part ask, if that's okay. Firstly, do you think a sensible version of bella could survive if she recognised early on that keeping on Edward's good side was her only survival option? and secondly, on the flip side, just how unhinged do you think bella could be before edward rejected her?

Ooh, both interesting questions, anon. Let's do this.

Sane Bella and the Yandere Simulator

Last time, on The Carnivorous Muffin's ridiculous blog, we covered what would happen to a sensible Bella who realizes the Cullens are not fluffy bunnies she should take home.

The long and short, Edward eats her.

Edward's romantic interest in Bella, the thing that has him fighting his own baser nature to keep her alive, is dependent on a few things.

One of those is Bella's interest in turn.

In time, if Bella truly was not interested in him, he would eat her. Alice tells us there's only two paths for Bella: death or vampire. Leaving her and walking away is never a true option for Edward.

So, Sane Bella loses Yandere Simulator because she doesn't realize the key aspect of Yandere Simulator: You Never Say No to Yandere.

However, you point out something interesting here, that this is a sensible Bella.

Sensible people do not immediately think they're playing Yandere Simulator. You don't run across people like Edward often, there aren't many of him, and while there are red flags early in Twilight Edward did a pretty good job of making them not particularly visible.

By the time we hit Eclipse he's pretty much thrown pretending to be nice and sane out the window. Luckily for Bella, that doesn't appear to bother her as much as it should.

Bella thinking "if I don't play along with this inhuman whack job he'll eat me", is paranoid lunacy. It is not the first conclusion a reasonable person would jump to.

That it happens to be the right conclusion is irrelevant.

But alright, I'll play ball.

Paranoid Bella and the Yandere Simulator

Bella is utterly paranoid and wearing her tin foil hat when she enters Forks. She remembers Biology very well and when Edward comes back and pretends to be nice she gives him a strained smile and thinks, "This motherfucker will eat me the moment my back is turned."

Bella considers travelling back to Florida, but that would be leading Edward to her mother, more it would be very easy to find Bella if he truly wished to.

Florida isn't an option.

Bella tries to keep her distance from Edward, hard when he sits next to her in Biology, but he seems willing to ignore her. Bella calms down a little, maybe this will work out.

Bella is nearly crushed by a van, desperately pretends she definitely did not see Edward fold that van like a pretzel. Nope, no siree Bob, Bella is concussed! She then stays awake all night in terror and OH GOD HE'S CLIMBING THROUGH HER WINDOW! HE'S GOING TO EAT HER IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT! HE KNOWS THAT SHE KNOWS!

Bella pretends to sleep, horrified, and Edward stays there all night. Staring.

(Edward, meanwhile, is realizing he's in love.)

Bella enters school a nervous wreck, waiting for that fateful Biology class and... Edward is studiously ignoring her. He doesn't even say hello.

Bella would be relieved, except he keeps sneaking into her bedroom at night, staring. Bella gets no sleep for weeks.

Then the blood testing happens and suddenly Edward is talking to her. He tells her they shouldn't be friends and he doesn't want to be friends, GREAT, EDWARD, THAT'S GREAT. But then it's very clear that he's after something, and Bella's spidey senses are tingling.

Edward doesn't want to be friends.

Oh, oh shit.

Suddenly, Edward sneaking into her room at night takes on a whole, new, sinister twist. First he'll rape her, then he'll eat her (or who knows, maybe vice versa, Bella certainly doesn't want to find out).

Bella is driven home by Edward (he insists) and enters the house to wheeze into a paper bag.

She thinks over her options.

Edward can crush cars, Bella trips over asphalt. Even if she wasn't Bella, there's no way she could outfight him even if she wanted to.

Edward was very concerned when he suspected that she knew, he likely still suspects and Bella's not a very good liar. Bella doesn't want to find out what happens to her if Edward realizes she really does know.

Edward appears to have a romantic interest in her. Does Bella really have the option of saying no?

Bella, still wheezing in her bag, comes to what seems like an inevitable decision. She must humor Edward at all costs. For the sake of her family, of her own life, she must play into his romantic overtures. Bella can't act but now, her life depends on it.

Well, Bella still can't act, but luckily for her Edward doesn't care.

Edward just thinks Bella's very jumpy, a little nervous and shy, and just plain weird (given he thinks Bella's just plain weird in canon this is not too far from normal events).

So Bella gets to live in terror for things like the meadow, where Edward talks about how easy it would be to eat her, how he contemplated murdering Biology in cold blood to eat her in the most efficient manner, how he loathed her for daring to smell delicious, how Alice warned him there was a good chance of him eating Bella in the meadow today, all while pressing his cheek against her hammering heartbeat.

"AH HA HA HA HA, EDWARD, YOU'RE SO CHARMING."

Edward invites Bella to the house. These creepy, man eating, people all meet her with smiles. Edward has composed her a lullaby. One of them, Alice, tells Bella they're going to be best friends.

"AH HA HA HA HA, EDWARD YOUR FAMILY IS SO NICE."

In other words, somehow, all of Twilight still happens because Bella is terrified of saying no.

At least, until Volterra. Given Bella's being hunted by Victoria, even had Bella not gone cliff diving eventually Alice would see her eaten and then black out as the wolves chased off Victoria instead.

Bella spends New Moon having a great time. Mostly. The Cullens are finally gone, she's free, she spends weeks on edge thinking they might come back.

Just when she starts to relax, fucking Laurent shows up and learns Victoria's trying to kill her. Because of Edward, because of course, it's always about Edward. WHY ARE VAMPIRES ALWAYS TRYING TO KILL HER?!

Regardless, Alice shows up and goes, "Bella, my god, you're alive!" And Bella dies inside. Alice Cullen is back. Oh no.

Bella pretends she's thrilled to see her. Alice, her best friend, her favorite demon. Hurray. Alice fills Bella in on the New Moon scoop, Bella pretends to be very invested. Then Alice gets the vision.

Edward has decided to commit suicide via the Volturi.

Bella has no problem with this, unfortunately, she realizes that Alice clearly has a problem with this. Alice fully expects Bella to run off to Italy to save Fucking Edward.

Once again, Bella isn't sure she's allowed to say no.

Bella runs to Italy, finds herself saving Edward's life, and then she's brought before the Volturi where she might very well be executed because Edward Cullen happened to involve her in this mess.

BELLA NEVER WANTED TO BE HERE.

Bella snaps. She's crying, she just can't take it anymore, and she finally loses her shit at Edward. SHE NEVER LOVED HIM! HE IS SCARY AND WON'T LEAVE HER ALONE! IF THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HER JUST DO IT NOW BECAUSE SHE CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE.

Aro watches Bella's mental breakdown in utter amazement. Naturally, while Marcus suspected something was funky with those two, Aro did not see this coming from Edward's perspective.

Aro offers Bella her out, it is unfortunately death or vampire, but vampire is very much an option and Aro will offer Bella sanctuary in the Volturi.

Bella takes that offer and runs with it.

Edward is devastated and blindsided.

Somehow, neither he nor Alice saw this one coming.

But to answer your question: Paranoid Bella survives Yandere Simulator By Defecting to the Volturi

How Unhinged Does Bella Have to Be For Edward to Dump Her?

He won't.

Remember, Edward in canon thinks there's something legitimately wrong with Bella. She doesn't think like normal people, she always makes the least rational choice, and he can't hear her thoughts.

Edward doesn't think Bella's gifted just that she's... different. (Bella, hilariously, immediately picks up that Edward's calling her a freak. Edward backtracks hard on that one.)

Bella's decisions also become increasingly ridiculous as the series goes on.

She stabs herself in the middle of a battle, she insists on having sex with him while human, she consorts with shapeshifters (to Edward this is lunacy), she picked up motorcycle riding, she threw herself off a cliff, she ran from his sweet protection to the reservation, she believes he doesn't love her, and she doesn't want to get married.

I imagine Edward thinks there isn't anywhere left for Bella to go. She's left the planet, unhinged is her middle name.

But none of that matters.

I already linked the Edward/Bella post I always link near the top so I'll just recap. For Edward, it's all about the blood, the silence, and the projection.

An unhinged Bella is still a delicious and silent Bella. He can still pretend she's Carlisle.

Even if Bella became addicted to cocaine, and ruined that sweet scent, it wouldn't tarnish her memory. He'd nurse her back to health, then eat her so she never relapses.

That's the trouble with Edward/Bella, it's not about Bella, not at all. You could replace her with sweet smelling cardboard and Edward would not notice a difference.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #bella swan #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #alice cullen #anti alice cullen #the volturi #aro #meta #headcanon #opinion

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miss-smutty · 3 years

Text

Forbidden

Chapter 3

A/N- Evey couple of chapters you will get Professor Hemsworth's POV and this is the first one 🥵 I really wanted to write his story and hear his thoughts too.

Summary- He can't get her out of his mind, the girl in the coffee shop. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 2.9K

Pairing- Prof!Hems X Reader

Warnings- Age gap (OC is 20) student/professor relationship, swearing, dirty talk

18+ Only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th Sept 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle @help2700 @presidentpotts

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chris Pov

My Apartment was silent as usual, empty like always when I arrived home from work, throwing my coat and bag on to the sofa and slumping down next to them.

I couldn't stand the silence, it taunted me and brought back memories I'd rather not remember. I'd thought about getting a roommate but still hadn't gotten around to posting out an ad, the idea made me nervous. Although I hated being alone, living with a stranger would be even worse. I turned on the TV to fill the expanse of the large empty room that I'd work so hard for but ultimately meant absolutely nothing to me.

My mind began to wander back to this morning and the chance meeting with the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. She'd taken my breath away and made me so nervous that I'd used some cheesy chat up line. I'd known at the time it would come back to haunt me tonight, no wonder she ran out of there as soon as she could. Thats why I hesitated, my hand brushed against the small of her back when I was about to ask her for her number and it took away my sensibility. I leaned in like I was about to kiss her, thank god I stopped myself though, how ridiculous would that have been?

I'd spoke to her for no more than ten minutes but somehow felt like I'd known her all my life. Asking for her number wouldn't have been the most unusual thing but she was in such a rush and I didn't want to make her late. There's absolutely nothing more I hate than tardiness.

I still couldn't get her off of my mind, she was beautiful, long dark hair that flowed down her back and the most piercing green eyes I'd ever seen. I couldn't stop looking into them, framed by dark eyelashes that made the emerald green pop even more. It's been a long time since I'd met a woman that made me feel as nervous as she did. The only thing is, she was young, much younger than me and I'd be fooling myself to think I'd actually stand a chance with her. Even if by some miracle I did, she deserved more than what I could give her, I was a mess, even after all this time I was still living in the past.

**********

I woke up feeling like a teenage boy again, a tent of my erection in the cotton sheets sprawled across my middle. I'd dreamt about the girl all night and honestly nothing about it was innocent. I rubbed at my eyes and stretched my muscles before finally getting out of bed, I had my first Junior Comms class to teach today and of course, I couldn't be late.

To say I was dreading today would be an understatement, I'd made a deal with the Dean to teach the Comms class because none of the other professors were willing and I was desperate for a job. I was hoping that if I exceeded expectations during my first semester I would finally get to teach psychology like I'd planned in the first place. Of course that meant being on my best behaviour and a lot of arse kissing, which I would do, albeit reluctantly.

The air was crisp this morning as I set off walking towards the university, luckily for me I didn't live to far away from the campus and the walk would help distract my thoughts because God knows they needed distracting. They always did.

Before I knew it, I'd arrived at the halls, looking up at the architecture of the building and realising my idea to walk obviously hadn't worked. I'd barely paid attention the entire time and it was only muscle memory that had gotten me to my required destination.

I held onto the door handle of the lecture hall and took a deep breath before stepping in, the room erupting into wolf whistles was not what I expected but admittedly better than what I was thinking. I scanned the room and my students, rolling my eyes at the girls lining the front row, their eager faces taking me in.

The class was full of typical students, the usual cliques you see at every educational institution. The jocks and cheerleaders, the nerds and oh fuck. The air was almost knocked from my lungs when I spotted her sat at the back of class. The girl I'd been talking to in the coffee shop yesterday, the girl that had been on my mind and in my dreams ever since. She was here, right in front of me which meant she was my student and younger than I'd actually thought. Fuck.

Even though she was now out of bounds I couldn't take my goddamn eyes off of her, the way her wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders. I could feel my cock tingling when my eyes fell to her low cut top and that unreal cleavage. I pulled my eyes away from her so as not to draw attention and focused on preparing for the lesson, leaving the students to whisper for a while longer while I recovered my composure.

Like a magnet, my eyes unwillingly kept finding their way back to her and she looked uncomfortable, squirming in her seat. I was making her uncomfortable and I still couldn't stop myself, I frowned as I subtly watched her cheeks blush and realised she's probably embarrassed because she'd been flirting with her Professor. Of course she'd be embarrassed, I was so much older than her but was it wrong that I didn't feel one ounce of awkwardness at the fact I had been flirting with a student?

All I could think about as I watched her tits bounce as she moved In her seat, was burying my face in her cleavage and I knew I had to look away before my dick reacted. The last thing I needed in a class full of students was to be walking around with a fucking erection.

I could stand there and watch her all day but certain students had stopped talking and they were waiting for me to speak and I'd almost forgotten why I was here In the first place. I really needed to get my head in the game, being infatuated with a student would definitely not get me the promotion I was looking for.

I pushed my hands in my tight pockets, hoping to stretch the fabric a little so my semi-hard dick wasn't so apparent, then my eyes were drawn to her again and she was talking to Jake. That pissed me off and I could feel my jaw tensing as I cleared my throat rather forcibly, hoping to get the attention of the whole class at the same time as distracting her from the rather friendly conversation she was having with another guy. A guy her age at that.

"Now I've got your attention, we're going to use our first session to get to know each other a little better. You'll be doing quite a lot of speeches so it's best if you feel comfortable with one another. I'll start by introducing myself." I looked at her again, gulping hard when I saw her with the end of her pen in her mouth and the way her lips wrapped around it. Fuck. "So, I'm Professor Hemsworth and I'm originally from Melbourne in Australia." I looked to her and she smiled, remembering what we spoke about yesterday.

A student started with the typical Australian stereotypes although I'm actually surprised no one told me to throw another shrimp on the Barbie. I laughed along anyway, I'd been expecting it, it's literally the first thing anyone who isn't Australian says when they first meet me. So when I told him it wasn't very original I meant it, I'd heard it a thousand times before and I'll hear it a thousand times again.

I told the class a little about myself before informing them they would do the same, it didn't go down well, the room filled with groans. I looked to her and she looked downright terrified, I sympathized for her, it wasn't easy speaking in front of a room full of people but was the best way to break the ice.

"Claire Abbott." I called, watching the blonde at the front stand, nervously. She giggled and twirled her hair around her finger as she smiled at me, I knew what she was doing. I quickly glanced at the girl from the coffee shop as she rolled her eyes at the blonde at the front, I smirked back at her, amused at her tolerance for predictable girls.

"I erm… I don't know what to say?" The blonde said, looking at me questioningly.

"Just anything about yourself that we might find interesting, the first thing that comes to mind."

"Well I own four horses and I'm the cheer captain." I had to stop myself from laughing when she rolled her eyes again but the smile soon disappeared when I saw Jake lean over to speak to her and the way she laughed at him made my blood boil. I was seething, not because they were speaking instead of listening but because she was speaking to him instead of me.

"You two at the back, we'll wait for you shall we?" I called them out, my voice more stern than I expected. I was pissed off that Jake would easily be able to get to know her and I couldn't. She stared at me, her eyes wide, she was surprised I'd called them out in front of everyone which made me even more pissed off because that probably blew my chances even more. What the hell am I thinking? What chances, I need to remember I'm her fucking Professor.

She sat silently through the rest of the class, I still couldn't keep my eyes off of her and thankfully neither could she. She looked flustered and I liked it, I liked that I could make her feel that way without even touching her. She was so goddamn hot I could hardly concentrate on what the other students were saying.

When I glanced down at the sheet of names in front of me and saw Jake's name my jaw clenched.

"Jake Hudson." I couldn't help narrowing my eyes as he stood up, I just knew he'd say something cocky and I was so fucking jealous of him right now. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, I needed to keep my cool, especially in a room full of students and her. If she knew what I was really like she wouldn't look at me the way she did.

"Hi, I'm Jake." I bit onto the inside of my gum, that bit of pain keeping me grounded. "I'm also from Australia." He gave me that fucking cocky half arsed smile I'd been waiting for and the adrenaline shot through me. I was thankful no one noticed apart from maybe the one person in here I didn't want to notice. She was watching me carefully. I had to loosen my tie a little as he continued to speak, I was burning up with rage.

I'm glad class was almost over, I needed a stiff drink and I needed it now. I looked at my sheet of names again and there were only a couple left, I wondered which one was hers. I needed to know her name. Fuck. I needed to know everything about her.

"Jessica Watson." She stood up. Fuck, Jessica, it was a cute name and fit her perfectly. I was mesmerized with her and the way she spoke as she tucked her long hair behind her ears. "These last couple of days have been pretty eventful for me." She looked right at me, what was she going to say? "I'm living the life of a romance novels heroine and I'm excited to see what the next couple of days bring." Oh fuck. Was she talking about meeting me? Or Jake? I like to think by the way she studied me as she spoke, she was talking about me. This was wrong, so wrong but why did it feel so right? I forgot there was anybody else in the room, my cock twinging as I pictured myself fucking her on this desk. I needed to stop thinking like this, it's unprofessional and completely immoral. I shook my head and turned back to the class.

"I hope we all feel a bit more comfortable with each other now, some of you shared some pretty revealing things." I looked at Jessica. "Some of you, not so much." Then raised my eyebrows at a group of guys in the middle of class that had used thier time to inform everyone about the party at their frat house this weekend. "I'll have a schedule for you all next time I see you, anybody that has any questions can see me after class, everyone else is free to leave." I looked at her one last time, hoping she'd use this opportunity to come and speak to me.

I sighed when I sat back at my desk and a group of girls took their opportunity, I wasn't in the mood for it but answered their questions anyway. I didn't take my eyes from Jessica, especially when Jake started speaking to her again. The girls in front of me were taking up my time, trying to flirt with me instead of asking relevant questions and I was over it.

"Do you actually have any questions about the course ladies? I have other things to be getting on with if not." I was a little short with them without actually meaning to be. I just wanted them out of my goddamn way so I could see what was going on with Jessica and Jake.

The girls finally left, more like stormed off but I couldn't care less right now. She was still sat at her desk which means she waited until I was alone which has got to be a good sign. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the silence driving me insane so I cleared my throat and she blinked like I'd woken her from a daydream. What was she thinking about?

She packed up her things into her bag slowly, I could tell she was buying herself time but I felt relaxed now we were alone, in fact I felt excited which was completely ridiculous. I felt like a damn teenager.

"Did you need to talk Miss Watson?" I was amused and I needed to break the ice before the silence got the better of me. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest.

"I erm…" She walked towards me, down the stairs, looking at her feet. She was unsteady and looked nervous as hell, was she going to tell me to back off? "I wanted to apologise, I had no idea you were a Professor." She stood at the bottom of the stairs, I was glad she wasn't too close. I don't know if I'd be able to control myself around her and lord knows I had to. The atmosphere was tense, neither of us really knowing what to say or do, all I could think about was ripping off her clothes.

"There's no need to apologise Miss Watson, I also had no idea you were a student but I was hoping to bump into you again. Funny how things work out isn't it?" I cocked my eyebrow at her, testing her, seeing how she would react to my comment. Something changed and she didn't look quite so nervous anymore.

"I think fate can be rather cruel Professor Hemsworth." The way she called me Professor stirred something deep inside me, a hunger I didn't know I had and when she moved closer to me I began to feel nervous.

"Oh really? Why is that Miss Watson?" She was so close now, I could smell her sweet scent of coconut shampoo. I wanted to touch her badly, I didn't though. I didn't dare because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to stop myself and I must restrain, she's my student after all. It's wrong. It's forbidden.

I still couldn't stop myself from flirting, like an uncontrollable impulse and as soon as I opened my mouth to try and be professional I would just go right ahead and flirt. She was so outrageously attractive but the kind of attractive where she didn't know it and didn't flaunt it, which I found even more endearing.

"I was hoping to bump into you again too, only now the thought of what could've happened will have to remain a fantasy." My restraint was really being tested now, she was teasing me, egging me on and the fact she'd also been fantasising about me made it extra difficult to resist. I had to loosen my tie again, I needed my fingers to be busy so I didn't touch her. I had an internal conflict going on inside my mind and it was like torture, if this was day one of class how the hell was I meant to survive the whole semester?

"I better get to my next class, we can't have anyone thinking I'm your favourite now can we?" Fuck sake. I ground my teeth together, I was glad she was leaving, I couldn't take the tension any longer but at the same time I knew, with distance the desire would only intensify. She turned to leave and I couldn't stop myself watching her hips sway as she walked, her ass was so round and bouncy, it hypnotised me and that's when I knew I was in deep trouble.

#smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #chris hems x oc #chris hems x you #chris hemsworth thor #chris hemsworth x ofc #chris hemsworth x oc #chris hemsworth imagine #professor #professor x #professor x student

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hoe-doroki · 4 years

Note

Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering. “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

#ask ana #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #not/sfw #mha smut #bnha smut

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critrolesideblog · 3 years

Text

Evening falls in the Pearlbow Wilderness with the last of the autumn leaves. A bitter wind heralds the coming of winter as it rattles its way through the skeletal trees, and the veil of gray that has been pulled across the sky all day awaits its cue to blanket the world beneath with snow. So, when a golden-amber light shines briefly in the wilderness, halfway between Erdeloch and Kaltenloch, there is no mistaking it for dying sunlight, which has not been seen by these tree trunks for some time, and it is little surprise at all, when a man with hair the color of a hearthfire appears out of the light with the soft crunch and thump of sturdy boots meeting forest floor.

The man looks north briefly, and then turns in a slow, clockwise circle, his azure eyes, bruised from lack of sleep, searching for any sign of his quarry. He hears the familiar, chittering call of an elf owl, and watches it take to the sky in a flutter of feathers and rustle of tree branches. A smile pulls on one side of his lips, and he hopes the bird is a good omen as he turns the slow circle again, but he finds only trees, trees, and more trees. The wind, delighted to have a new orange toy at its disposal, tugs excitedly at his hair. "Go where the wind blows, I suppose," he says with a sigh, and the leaves on the ground agree quietly that it is really the only sensible way to be getting along.

As he sets off west-northwest, he reaches into one of his coat's many pockets to touch the trinket housed there. It is a small thing, barely larger than a gold coin. He stole it over a year prior from a place far east of here. He turns it over in his pocket four times, before methodically tracing the design on its face with his thumb, a new habit he has picked up in recent weeks as he has searched for the woman it reminds him of.

Night arrives quickly in the autumnal wilderness, and cold quickly follows suit. Luckily, the man knows a thing or two about light and heat. He produces a flame in his unpocketed hand as quickly and easily as most people breathe. Most trees would be perturbed at the sudden appearance of fire in their midst, but the trees of this forest are old and delight in the man's bright magic. You are so close, they whisper as the wind glides across their branches. She is just there. The snow, sensing its cue, begins to fall then, kissing the man on the top of his head, shoulders, and cheeks, melting against his skin like a lover. Come, come, the flurries beckon. You are very close. He does not hear them, but he feels a renewed determination, or perhaps stubbornness, as he sets his shoulders and forges ahead.

It is the light he notices first. He extinguishes the flame in his hand, thinking it a possible trick of eye, but no, he can definitely glimpse a glimmer of light up ahead. He notices the trees next, the way they have created a path for him, their branches curling elegantly overhead like living archways. Finally, pace quickening, he catches the scent of woodsmoke and food on the air. As he gets closer, the glimmer coalesces into a series of arcane lights, like too-still fireflies, leading a path up to the door of a home, now visible in the clearing, and wreathing it in gold. He feels a pang of nostalgia as he is reminded of a tree, far away, glowing with daylight in a city of eternal night.

He blames this rush of sentimentality for his lack of caution as he steps through the final archway. He does not sense the arcane wire until he has already tripped it. He hisses in pain, flinching backward, as bright, white light sears his retinas. Old habit brings his hands instinctively level with his face, palms outward, a position of readiness disguised as surrender. He hears what can only be the door ahead opening with a groan, and a woman's voice calls out from the light, full-throated and wary.

"Who's there?"

"My name is Caleb, Caleb Widogast." He replies, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm, despite his mounting discomfort at the fact that he cannot see. "I mean you no harm. I am looking for someone. I believe her name is Torvi. I met her once, some years ago, and I wish to speak with her, if I may." He pauses to allow a reply, but all he hears is the wind in the branches and the faint crackle of a fire. He can feel his pulse thumping nervously in his throat. He ventures to speak again. "I," he pauses, considering how direct he should be. "I met her in-- in a place called--"

"I know what the place is called." The woman's voice is not soft exactly, but it is no longer quite so sharp. The lights dim back to their firefly glow. "You are not the first person from Vergessen to find their way here." He thinks it might be sadness he hears in her voice and ventures to open his eyes slowly.

As the black splotches on his vision reduce, the woman comes slowly into focus. He notices first the book in a sling on her hip, dark leather stark against the golden yellow of her dress. Next, the dishcloth in her hands, giving the impression of being caught in the middle of a chore and undoubtedly hiding any number of spell components. It is not Torvi. Torvi's face is the first clear memory he has after ... after. He thinks he sees a resemblance, in the shape of her eyes, the sweet-apple roundness of her cheekbones, the broad curve of her nose, the pointed slope of her ears. Her jaw is different, though, more square, her shoulders more broad, her stature just a bit too tall. "May I ask who you are?"

"I'm Maeve, Torvi's sister." She beckons him with a tilt of her head. "Come on in."

Caleb approaches with greater caution this time, as Maeve steps back, opening the door further. He casts Detect Magic with a practiced twist of his hand and spots no further traps on the path ahead of him -- at least, none that are currently activated. There are, however, a dozen different wards that he can see around the perimeter of the clearing and a dozen more traps besides. It is some of the most intricately woven Abjuration magic he has had the pleasure of witnessing, and he regrets, for just an instant before he steps through the doorway, that he does not have time right now to investigate it further.

His beleaguered eyes adjust to the candle and firelight of the interior to take in a simple but well-appointed home. There are cabinets and a large work bench along the far wall. Herbs of all varieties hang from the rafters. There is a bookcase filled to bursting with books of all sizes, some of which glow with magic. There is a large dining table, crowned with a steaming cauldron of stew, and there, in a chair by the hearthfire, is Torvi. She has a blanket pulled around her, and she is leaning against one side of the armchair, her arm curled beneath her chin as a pillow, gazing into the hearthfire, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps, just lost. She gives no indication that she has noticed him enter.

He has had weeks to get used to the idea of her being alive and not dead, as he had assumed her to be from the moment Ikithon took posession of her holy symbol all those years ago, but no amount of mental preparation could have prepared him for the experience of seeing her there exactly as he remembered her.

"This will hurt." The first words to cut through the clouds in a decade, as the heart-shaped face of a half-Elven woman, with dark-brown skin and sunlight-on-honey eyes, comes into focus, her warm hands caressing his face. "Like saltwater on a wound, it is necessary. There is so much you may yet do." Her expression shifts, then, from an apologetic smile to slack-jawed awe. Her eyes are bright as they rove across his face. "I see the face of Corellon in you."

Now that he is within the warmth of the home, Caleb cannot attribute the tingling numbness in his face and hands to the cold. His heart pounds against his ribcage, as desperate to escape as he suddenly is, but he manages to draw in a deep, shaky breath. Breathe, he reminds himself. He grips the charm in his pocket with all his strength, such as it is, and takes a deep breath again. Eins, swei, drei... It takes him a moment to realize that Maeve is looking at him expectantly. "Sorry?" He croaks.

"I said, if you want to speak with her, you'll have to wait, but if you're not in a hurry, she'll come around soon enough."

"Ah, ja, I can wait." He picks a point on Maeve's cheek, just below her eyes, to fix his gaze upon. Stay on task, Widogast. "I had hoped to speak with you as well. Perhaps, we can do that first." One of her eyebrows quirks upward.

"Alright," she says, after a moment. "We can do that over dinner. You can set your coat and things there" Though her words are phrased as suggestions, her voice rings with the authority of someone used to being listened to, as she motions to a coat rack by the door. Her eyes flick to his pocketed hand. There is still a wariness in the set of her shoulders, and the dishcloth still partly obscures one of her hands. Ah.

Caleb nods in acquiescence and acknowledgment, one paranoid arcanist to another, and removes the hand from his pocket slowly, palming the trinket as he does so. He turns away from her and divests himself of his scarf and coat, keeping the trinket in hand all the while. He keeps his eyes on the wood floor, the cob wall, the curling leaf design of the wooden coat hooks. When he turns back, Maeve has set three places at the dining table. "Ah, none for me, please," he says, waving a staying hand as he crosses to the table. She pauses, ladle suspended in midair, and her eyes pass over his thin form, even thinner now that he no longer has his coat, in frank, skeptical appraisal. Judging by the unimpressed look on her face, she finds him wanting.

"We feed our guests around here," she says, in the same authoritative tone, and ladles soup into each of the three bowls. Caleb's lips form a thin line, briefly, the only outward indication of his inward prickling at this insistence, but he quickly clears the frown from his face. He wants her amenable to his request, and if he has to eat a little, in spite of the knotted nerves residing where his stomach should be, so be it. He notices that his bowl, at least, is more broth than vegetable as Maeve retrieves a large loaf of crusty bread from a cupboard, tears off a large piece for each of them, and settles into the seat across the table from him. "So," she says, before digging into her bowl. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

Caleb takes a deep breath. "Are you familiar with a man by the name of Trent Ikithon?"

Maeve stills. Her eyes meet Caleb's, wary and discerning. "I know of him -- he is one of the members of the Cerberus Assembly -- but I have never met him."

"Count yourself lucky," Caleb says, forcing his face into a wry smile. He launches into a monologue he has rehearsed many times over the past few weeks, detailing some of the crimes of his former mentor, how Ikithon used Vergessen as a base of operations, the ordeal of his trial and imprisonment, the nigh certainty of the involvement of other Assembly members in Ikithon's crimes, and the painstaking, fruitless search to find anyone willing to testify against them. Maeve's eyes stay on him all the while as she takes in every word with a quiet, steadfast focus that reminds him of another wizard he knows. "So," he says at last, after pausing to eat a small bite of broth-soaked bread. "If there is any evidence you can offer, any testimony of anything you or your sister might have witnessed --"

"No."

Caleb blinks once, twice, three times. "No?"

"No," she repeats, softly. "I admire what you are doing, but we cannot help you."

"If you are afraid of reprisals, I can assure you--"

"I'm fairly certain you can assure nothing where the Assembly is involved," she says, with a cynical smile, "no matter how powerful you or your friends with the Cobalt Soul are. But, nevertheless, I have no evidence to offer. I witnessed nothing, aside from my sister's declining health, which is too circumstantial to be helpful, and any evidence she might offer would not stand up in court of law."

Caleb's shoulders and head curl forward as her words hit him like a blow to the chest. He hazards a glance at the woman by the fire, who has not moved over the course of their conversation. "Is she so unwell?"

". . . No." Maeve drags the word out into two syllables. "She is much better than she was, but..." She taps a quick staccato rhythm against the side of her bowl with her spoon, before gazing across the room at her sister. "Torvi was not insane before she went to Vergessen, only inconvenient. When she was a teenager, she began performing miracles and wonders around our village, and she was not shy about declaring their provenance. She was always blessing people that they may 'walk in Corellon's beauty' or 'may the light of the Archeart guide them.'" Caleb's heart sinks as he guesses where this story is going. Maeve shrugs, her gaze dropping back to her bowl. "We got fined every time the Reapers came to town. The villagers didn't care, so long as their kid was healed or their shop brought in coin -- a blessing was a blessing. But she didn't stop there. She also went after the priest to the All-Hammer that kept the shrine in our village. She said he worshiped the Empire, not the Gods."

"I bet that made her a lot of friends in high places."

Maeve gives a snort of humorless laughter at this, her cynical smile returning. "No kidding. My parents made a deal with the lawmaster: instead of sending her to jail, they agreed that her worship of "false gods"--" she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers "-- was a sign of her obvious madness, and sent her to Vergessen instead." She pushes her soup around the bowl with her spoon. "They thought they were doing her a kindness. But, regardless," her eyes flash up to catch his, hard with grim certainty. "Even if she was completely well, I think we both know the word of a convicted heretic and idolator is worth very little in the eyes of the law."

Caleb rubs his tired eyes with a sigh, as his left hand worries at the charm. He has so much work yet to do. Da'leth, Margolin, Tversky -- they were all too close to the Volstrucker program not to have been involved. They had to be removed from power for any real change to take place, and his search for concrete evidence and testimony had been so fruitless. When he had found record of Torvi's discharge from Vergessen, it ... it had felt like a sign, he admits to himself, cringing a little at the irrationality of it. A sign that perhaps he was on the verge of a breakthrough. He unfurls his hand to reveal the trinket: a small disc of silver engraved with two moons backed by a four-pointed star.

Maeve, glimpsing the symbol, tilts her head curiously. "Are you a devotee of Corellon?"

The idea that someone could mistake him for a devotee of any god is strange enough to make him fumble the charm as he turns it over again in his hand. "Ah, I cannot say so, no. I have never been much for religion."

Maeve's gestures with her chin toward the book holstered at his side. "Why bother with the fickle will of Gods when us mortals can achieve so much on our own?" It is not really a question. There is a book on her own hip after all.

Caleb nods. "That is part of it." He turns the charm over in his hand again, and a memory rises to the surface of his mind: the soft, rhythmic clack-clack of wooden prayer beads as they sift through his mother's clever fingers. She kneels before the shrine of Pelor, eyes closed, the dawn light shining off her burnished copper hair, prayers whispering earnestly through her lips. Much good that it did her. "For a long time, it seemed to me the supposed benevolence of the gods was nothing but a cruel joke." Bless my son that he may live always in Your light. "My view is a bit softer now, but ..." Bless our Empire that we may bring light to the dark corners of the world.

Maeve nods. Her eyes gleam with a cold anger. "I rage at that one, sometimes," she says, her eyes darting toward the moonlit star in his hand. "And argue -- one-sided." A wry smile twists her lips.

The sudden scrape of metal on metal makes both of their heads turn at once toward the front window. It opens with a creak and in hops a tiny elf owl.

Maeve rises and crosses quickly to the window. "You've been eavesdropping, haven't you?" She asks, as she closes the window with a sharp snap. "It's very rude to keep your guest waiting." The owl's head swivels to gaze at Caleb, and he recognizes immediately the familiar glow of Fey magic in the bird's eyes. With another little hop, it takes flight from the window sill and lands on the table a foot from him. There is a long moment of silence as the bird looks him over, this way and that, and -- pip, pip, pip-- hops a little closer, faerie fire still burning its eyes.

Caleb remembers well the safe, comforting distance of viewing the world through a familiar's eyes. "I had a little owl like you once," he says, softly. A smile tugs at his lips as he remembers Frumpkin perched on Beau's shoulder, his tiny feathers ruffled by the ocean breeze. "Well, he was a cat really, but he was an owl for a little while."

"She is a bigger owl really," says the first voice he remembers from Vergessen. "But she is small for right now."

Caleb takes a deep breath. Eins, swei, drei... He forces himself to tear his eyes from the safe visage of the little bird and face her. She is not quite looking at him, but she is facing his direction now. He can see clearly now that the light reflected in her upturned eyes is not fire but Fey. "Do-- do you remember me, Schwester?"

"Of course, I do," she says, voice soft and warm.

Caleb rubs his thumb over the design on the charm one last time. "I brought this for you," he says, holding it out for the owl to inspect. "To replace the one that was taken." The owl bobs its head this way and that in a circular motion, and then snaps up the trinket so quickly that Caleb barely has time to worry for his fingers before the bird is midair again. She lands on the back of the chair, dropping the charm onto Torvi's waiting palm. Her hand closes around it, and as it does, the light in her eyes grows and brightens until they shine like twin stars from her face. They are bright enough that Caleb is not able to look at her long without needing to avert his weary eyes. It is not unlike the ways he has seen Jester and Caduceus' magic manifest at times, and he wonders what visions her deity is granting her, as Maeve resumes her seat across from him.

The room is quiet for a long while, save for the crackle of the hearthfire and the occasional scrape of Maeve's spoon against her bowl. The tiny owl is beginning to doze on the back of the chair, when the light disappears from Torvi's eyes with a blink, and she looks down at the trinket with her own eyes for the first time. "Beautiful," she whispers, as errant tears spill down her cheeks.

"Schwester..." It feels cruel to ask, another sin to add to the pile, but she is here now. Really here, and he has traveled all this way. He has to ask. "Schwester, is there anything you remember about your time at Vergessen, any evidence you can offer, any direction you can point me in, to help me bring down those who used that place for evil?"

Still gazing at the talisman, she tilts her head in a way that reminds Caleb of a curious bird and seems to consider his question for a moment. "You were the first one I restored in that place," she says at last. "Half mad and half cursed, so young and so full of Corellon's beauty and magic." The ghost of a smile curls around her lips as she rubs her thumb over the design on the charm in much the same way Caleb had a moment before. "And now you have done so many beautiful and important things." And ugly and terrible things, Caleb thinks wryly. The scales are not yet balanced.

"I just need to do a little more, Schwester." A phantom, stinging itch starts up in his forearms, and his fingers worry against each other for lack of the charm to turn between them.

Torvi's eyes meet his without warning, and he is caught like a startled creature in the sudden glimpse of sunlight.

"Fuck, if I ever have to sit in a courtroom again, it'll be too fuckin' soon," Beau says, stretching in the dim lamplight outside the tavern. He makes a noise of agreement, and she glances at him. "Y'know, Yasha's got some unfinished business in Xhorhas. We've been talking about taking off for a few weeks, few months maybe, to go back to her old stomping grounds..." She looks at Caleb sidelong, and he can read the concern in the slight shift in the pitch of her voice, the rising of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, though she plays it off well. He knows he looks like shit. It turned out listening to weeks of testimony against his abuser was not a great aid to his already-fitful sleep.

"Gut." He says, and he means it. "It will be good for her to get some closure. She deserves it, and you both deserve some time to yourselves." He offers her a smile he hopes is reassuring.

She nods, and between one breath and the next, her arms are around him. He allows himself to lean into her vice-like grip, hugging her back as hard as he can. "Take it easy, while we're gone, alright, man? We'll kick some more Assembly ass when we get back." She releases him at last and gives him a pat on the cheek. "Get some rest, man. You deserve it."

Caleb feels the heavy weight of his allotment of Trent Ikithon's platinum and gold in his coat pocket and knows that he does not. "Ja," he says. "I will. There's just a little more to do."

"And then what?" The question snaps Caleb's attention back to the present. Torvi is peering at him, her eyes seeming to search in his for an answer. "A little more, and then what? After you find this evidence you need, will it be a little more still, or will you rest?"

If he found evidence against Da'leth and the others, there would be more trials. The web would unravel further still, and he would have new threads to follow. Not to mention, the problem of the ex-Volstrucker scattered to the winds. "Well, you know what they say," he says with a sardonic grin. "There is no rest for the wicked." Torvi does not return his grin.

"You are not wicked." She says this with such certainty that it sparks a small flame of anger in his chest.

"How do you know?" He asks, more than a little petulantly.

"I know." And there is something in the compassionate depths of her sunlit eyes that makes Caleb think, inexplicably, that she does know. She knows what transpired before Vergessen and since. The flame in his chest is quenched thoroughly. He tears his gaze from hers at last, eins, swei, drei... "Alas," she continues, once his breathing has evened out again. "My memories from Vergessen are... muddled." She concludes quietly. "But if I think of anything helpful, I can contact you." He nods, his eyes on the floorboards, as disappointment washes over him.

"I suppose I'll be on my way then." He says, quietly, and rises from his seat. Maeve rises with him.

"I'd like a favor from you before you go," says Torvi, as he turns from the table. He looks up, in surprise.

"Name it."

"I'd like you to hold onto this for me," she says, holding the talisman out with a smile. "I'm always losing mine."

"It's true," mutters Maeve. "I'm always finding them in strange places."

"This one means a lot to me," Torvi says. "I don't want to lose it." She holds the charm out toward him insistently. "Keep it safe for me."

Maeve looks at him sidelong and sighs. "If you don't, she'll just find some way of sneaking it into your pocket as you leave."

"It's true," Torvi agrees, and there is mischief twinkling amidst the warm affection in her eyes, a particular mix that reminds him strongly of Jester. He crosses to her to take the trinket back, and as he does so, her fingers catch his. He feels a familiar warmth settle over him. "May you walk in Corellon's beauty, Bruder." When Maeve had said the words earlier, they had sounded trite to Caleb's ears, but Torvi's benediction was infused with such sincerity.

Caleb bends forward slightly, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "Danke, Schwester." She smiles at him warmly, as he releases her grasp and pockets the trinket.

Maeve opens the door for him as he hastily dons his scarf and coat and steps out into the frigid air. To Caleb's surprise, she follows him out onto the step, closing the door behind her. The clearing is now covered in a thin layer of snow, and their breaths create little puffs of fog in the dim glow of the arcane lights. Maeve leans out past the eave of the house for a moment to look up at the sky, but the stars are veiled with clouds. She frowns and straightens, crossing her arms. "Can I give you a little advice?" She asks, her voice pitched low, eyes following the meandering descent of a snowflake.

Caleb watches the snowflake, also, watches it spiral and drift, until it is lost in a sea of shadow. He is not sure he wants advice. He wants evidence, a direction to go in. He has lost his only lead, and now, he is back at square one.

"When I'm stuck on a spell," Maeve continues. "I find the best thing to do is take a break. Then, when I'm doing laundry or gardening or whatever, the solution will come to me." She reaches out a hand past the eave to catch some of the falling snow. "Even the Wildmother can't bloom all the time." A strong gust of wind swirls around them then, trying its best to push Caleb northward. Caleb adjusts his scarf and coat to stop its icy fingers from trailing down his neck, and Maeve shrugs. "Take it or leave it."

"Thank you," Caleb says with a nod. Maeve nods back and turns to re-enter the house, closing the door behind her with a soft thud.

Caleb steps off of the porch, re-casting detect magic with a twist of his hand. He wants to be well clear of the Abjuration magic before he attempts to teleport. The snow crunches under his boots as he makes his way down the row of lights, and the wind whistles in the tree branches and tries, once again, to tug him northward, pulling at his hair this time, loosening it from its tie.

The sharp, clean smell of the fresh snow reminds Caleb of Eiselcross... of Essek. The thought of reuniting with Essek had been a light at the end of the tunnel, during Ikithon's trial. He had even spent time crafting his own Sending spell, so he could contact Essek once the trial was over. When the day came, it had felt too selfish to use it. There was still so much to do.

And Essek isn't the only thing awaiting him in Eiselcross. In the underworld of Aeor lies a crucible, a final test of his tentative, hard-won, untrustworthy goodness.

Caleb walks much further than he needs to. The snowflakes try to kiss his worries away. When this doesn't work, they stop falling, leaving only the wind carding its fingers through his hair with alternating sweetness and frustration. It whistles some more to catch his attention, but he is too lost in his spiraling thoughts to hear it.

He does hear another noise, though, or thinks he does. He cannot find the little owl when he looks up to the tree branches, but he does see a star. A single star, bright enough to shine through a thinning in the veil, twinkling, safe and familiar...

Caleb swears under his breath and yanks a copper wire out of his pocket, before he can think better of it. He shapes it much like he has seen Jester do numerous times and takes a deep breath. He visualizes Essek, his lilac eyes, his high cheekbones, the iridescent freckles dusted across his twilight skin, the elegant curve of his jaw, the small dimples that appear on his cheeks when he smiles, really smiles, and speaks the magic word. "Hallo, Freund, I--" It occurs to him suddenly that, although it is a very reasonable 6:13 in the evening in this part of the Pearlbow Wilderness, it is much deeper into the night at Vurmas Outpost. "I apologize I didn't think of the time. I hope I'm not disturbing you." Nine words left. "Thinking I'll travel to you soon... to exchange theories?" The words leave his lips with the ghost of a smile, and he thinks he hears a smile in Essek's voice as well, when he responds:

"Caleb Widogast, it is good to hear your voice no matter the time of night. I can think of nothing else I would rather do."

Notes: I rather extended the limits of Read Object and Read Mind from the Knowledge Domain descriptions, because.

#*drags fic kicking and screaming onto Tumblr and tosses it into the void*#will this be of interest to anyone? is it any good at all? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#idk but I finally finished it so here it is #caleb widogast #and some OC's #my writing tag

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mochegato · 4 years

Text

Hope on Board

Chapter 6 – Everything Happens in Its Own and Usually Most Inconvenient Possible Time

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

The gala was going better than anticipated. Despite feeling like she stuck out like weed in a field of flowers, things seemed to be going well. Marinette had talked with more people than she could remember and they all seemed to walk away happily and interested in her work except for a few pompous assholes who couldn’t keep their eyes off her growing chest. Admittedly, she was showing more cleavage than she anticipated, but she was blaming that on the baby that was enlarging her chest already.

Luckily, she had Adrien to watch out for her and keep them from doing anything more than just look. More importantly, Tim seemed impressed with her designs for the gala and could pick out the outfits that were hers. That was two big checks for the night. The rest of her life might be going to hell, but at least this night was going smoothly.

Whereas she felt like she was an imposter in the ranks, Adrien seemed to blend into the crowd seamlessly. Laughing sensibly at the right times, sharing knowing looks that confused Marinette with the other party goers, smiling politely at the right bad jokes. He led her to the right people to get to know and whispered in her ear the right things to say to them.

She watched Adrien flourish and felt a twinge of guilt. This was the product of his dad. She was benefitting from Gabriel’s abuse toward Adrien. She grabbed Adrien’s arm to get his attention and looked up at him with sad eyes. He gave her a soft smile and excused them politely from the conversation they were in. “It’s okay, Mari. I’m okay,” he assured her. He looked back out to the crowd.

“How about a fun one next?” he urged her.

Marinette gave him a halfhearted smile and nodded. If he could do this then so could she. He was doing this for her. She could hold up her end. She nodded and smiled politely at people as she passed. One woman lit up at her so Marinette stopped to talk to her, letting Adrien continue on without her. After a very amusing conversation with a breath of fresh air named Selina Kyle, Marinette searched for Adrien in the crowd. Luckily, he hadn’t wandered too far away. She caught his attention and he turned to her with a wide smile.

“And this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Marinette, this is Richard Grayson.”

Marinette looked over to the new man, still trying to keep all the names of people she had met already. There were too many names. There was no way she was going to remember this new person’s name. She looked in the new man’s eyes… familiar eyes and a familiar but strained smile. Why were those eyes familiar? “Fuck…” Marinette let out before she could stop herself.

Adrien froze. Richard froze. That name wasn’t right. That definitely wasn’t the name he had given her. Did he give her a fake name?

“Uh, hi.” Dick offered with a strained smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Dick Grayson.” He wasn’t sure what their relationship was, but if she was in a relationship with Adrien, he wasn’t going to intentionally destroy it despite the twinge in his heart. That would explain the hasty exit from his apartment though.

“He is Bruce Wayne’s son,” Adrien gently reminded her, “Tim’s brother.”

“Fuck!” Marinette groaned out louder. Tears were starting to appear in her eyes. This could not be happening. Not here. Not now. She was not prepared for this conversation. She was supposed to be networking for her job, for the partnership and her store. She did not have time for this! Why now. Why after all their searching and attempts to retrace her steps did it have to happen now?

He was Tim’s brother and Bruce Wayne’s son. One of, if not the richest man in the world and the current holder of her exclusive contract. Dick was going to hate her. He was going to think she trapped him into this. He was going to think she was a manipulative bitch who shouldn’t be allowed to raise children and take the baby away and never let her see it. She would only get to see him or her or them whenever Richard took them out in public. The baby was going to get a new mother and would call her ‘Maman’. And what if that new mom didn’t like having a stepchild? What if she didn’t love them like they deserved? What if they thought Marinette didn’t want them?

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked quietly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Marinette exclaimed shaking her hands to release anxiety. She could no longer breathe and tears were starting to gather in the corner of her eyes.

“Mari?” Adrien looked between Marinette and Richard a few times before a realization set in. “Oh my God. He said his name was Dick. It’s him! It’s ladybug shirt guy!” He said with a smile. “We found him! I’m telling Chloe. She is going to die.”

“No!” Marinette jumped at him to grab his phone, attracting the attention of the people around them. But at this point, Marinette no longer cared. She had more important things to focus on.

“Well, I have more mingling to do and you,” he pushed Marinette toward Dick hard enough for her to stumble and Dick to reach out and steady her, “have some talking to do. Good luck. I won’t go too far. Let me know if you need me… for anything...” He looked at Marinette sincerely with his last statement before giving Dick a less friendly look. “… anything at all.”

Marinette looked up at Dick through her lashes. Her fear was radiating out of her and it made Dick want to wrap her up and hold her until she smiled. “How… how have you been?”

Marinette looked around them noticing now close everyone was and a few people who were leaning back expressly to eavesdrop. She eyed them warily and responded loudly enough for them to hear, “We haven’t caught up in a bit. Let’s go somewhere and talk where the music isn’t so loud.”

Dick followed her eyes and nodded, leading her out of the ballroom and into the closed section of the manor. He could feel the apprehension as she walked, making him nervous as well. He didn’t know what was about to happen but he could tell it was significant. He just didn’t know if it was good significant or bad significant.

“We should be good here. Nobody but family is allowed back here.” He looked around anxiously as if to confirm, but really it was just something for him to do, something to focus on besides her. “I was hoping to talk to you after… after that night but realized I didn’t get your number. I tried going back to the club to look for you, but...”

“It closed. Yeah… I tried going back to the club, too.” Dick brightened up at that. She had searched for him too. It wasn’t just him that wanted to try for something more. “I wanted to maybe just show up at your door, but I think I was still drunk when I left and…,” she scrunched up her face in uncertainty, “I saw all the weapons on the counter and when I heard you waking up in the bedroom, I just ran. I didn’t pay attention to where I was. And then I thought about the weapons and thought… maybe I shouldn’t.”

The realization hit Dick and he cursed under his breath. He was going to kill Jason. “My brother is paranoid, Jason not Tim, who you apparently know. Living in Gotham is bad enough but he… we get targeted a lot so he… those were his weapons, not mine. I swear. None of them were mine and they normally aren’t even there, I just wouldn’t let them take them to the club,” he rushed out to try to assure her.

Her eyes searched his. He held his breath praying she found what she was looking for, or not finding it, depending on the question she was trying to answer. Whichever answer let him talk to her again, he hoped she found it. After a few moments, she must have found some answer because she gave him a weak smile and nodded slightly. Dick let out the breath he had been holding. She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but Dick would take it. He could work with it if she gave him a chance. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Now he had a chance, what was he going to do with it? “So… how have you been?”

“Pregnant,” Marinette answered quickly, instantly regretting not saying it more sensitively, easing him into the realization. She had freaked out, it stood to reason that he would as well.

Dick’s eyes widened in shock and his breath shortened. He looked down to her belly and back up to her face. A look of panic was plastered on his face. He was not ready. How did it even happen? He thought they had used precautions. And he had provided the condom and put it on so it wasn’t as though she could have sabotaged anything. Holy shit! He was going to be a dad. How was he going to balance that? How was he going to be a dad and Nightwing? Shit! He couldn’t take care of himself. How was he supposed to take care of a child? He was pretty sure they ate more than cereal.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette rushed out seeing his whole body going into shock. “I’m so very, very sorry! I swear I don’t expect anything. I don’t… I didn’t… This wasn’t on purpose. I swear! I wasn’t trying to get pregnant.” Tears were now freely falling down her cheeks and marring her dress. Thank God she had waterproof mascara but the water stains were still making their mark.

“How…”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “Did you know semen leaks out before the… end? Cuz’ I didn’t.” She wiped tears away as she spoke. “Or rather I did, I just didn’t think it was enough to do anything. But, if you’re truly lucky, that’s enough. So if you wait to put a condom on until just before… the end, you can still get pregnant.”

“And you… you’re sure…” He didn’t know how to ask the question tactfully.

She drew a sharp breath and looked down wiping away a few more tears. “Yeah. I… I broke up with my boyfriend a little under a year ago. There… um… there hasn’t been anyone else since then.”

He nodded dumbly. That was pretty conclusive. Unless there was a sudden case of immaculate conception going on, that was his baby. “Okay.”

She turned her eyes to him, her expression somber. “I didn’t… I don’t expect you to do anything, not participation, not child support, nothing. I just… I thought you deserved to know even if you don’t want to be involved and I understand if this is too much for you.”

Dick looked up at her in surprise. She was giving him an out. She wasn’t expecting him to be a dad and help take care of them. But for some reason, that realization only made his heart clench tighter. Did he want an out? Did he want to miss out on his child’s upbringing? All of their firsts? Their first step. Their first summersault. Their first word. Their first laugh. Their first breath.

He didn’t. He didn’t want to miss out on those things. He pulled himself out of his spiral to see Marinette starting to turn away to leave. He reached out and grabbed her hand before she could get too far away and pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly. “I want to be involved. I want to be there. I want to help.” She froze for a few seconds before hugging him back just as strongly. Her crying increased in his arms and he held her through it. He wouldn’t let her go through any part of this alone, not anymore.

“I don’t know what you need, but I want to help provide it for you and… and our baby,” he said gently, pulling away just enough to wipe away her tears.

She nodded at him, turning her eyes up to match his. Dick felt his chest tighten. Her eyes were glassy with tears but still gorgeous and captivating. He moved the hand wiping the tears to cup her face. His thumb gently stroked her cheek. He leaned down toward her but her hand clasped over her lips before his lips could reach them, blocking his way. Her eyes bugged out and she ran to the trash can before throwing up.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, collapsed on the floor next to the trash can. “And morning sickness has officially begun. And it’s early. Just so much luck.” She looked up at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Dick chuckled lightly, “Well, I did want to be there for all the firsts. Come on,” he gently grabbed her hands to help her up, “let’s get you some water to rinse out your mouth and cleaned up a bit. If you want to stay, I’d love to escort you around. If you’d like to go home and rest, I’d love to take you home. If you want to go somewhere and talk, I’d love to take you wherever you want. But either way, can I get your phone number… and last name? I want to help figure things out with you. Maybe… if you’re interested… maybe go on a first date? If you want to try for a relationship…. I mean… I understand if you don’t want to risk…”

His stuttering cut off when she started giggling. He looked up to match her eyes, a look of hope finally finding their way back into them. “I would really like that, too. And it’s Dupain-Cheng. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It’s nice to officially meet you, Dick Grayson.”

Chapter 7

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - first

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Colour symbol ask:

Fluff: grey: maturity

Gordon & Alan

Secret Tunnel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Gordon

Well, my muses have come to life again, which is both great for my mental state and annoying timing with regards to the uni work I'm supposed to be doing, but I'll make it work :D

After making a Military Bros masterpost of everything I've written for those two for Military Bros Day, I started thinking about all the different brother duos and how much I've written for each of them. Now, I might be forgetting something, but the one combination I don't recall writing anything for at all is Gordon&Alan, so I poked at my muses and we came up with this!

It's only a loose tie-in to the prompt, I think, but some sensible Tinies content counts as being mature, right?

Colour Symbol Prompts

“So.” Alan glanced up at his brother, raising an eyebrow at the drawl. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Gordon continued, tone light in a way that would have been disarming if it wasn’t Gordon, and they weren’t in the remains of a collapsed building.

“What’s the bad news?” he asked, rolling his shoulder. It was stiff, vocally complaining at the movement, and Alan was well aware that without the pauldrons his overprotective brothers had thrown on his uniform before letting him join IR it would be a lot worse. While none of the debris had hit either of them directly, some smaller chunks of masonry had glanced off his left shoulder.

Gordon’s sharp amber eyes tracked the motion even as his brother spoke. “Well, the bad news is that our comms are down.” Alan had suspected as such, but the fact still dumped a heavy weight on his chest. No comms meant no John, no Scott or Virgil, no help from outside. He didn’t like being cut off from his brothers at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times.

Still, he at least had one brother this time, and despite his penchant for not taking things seriously at home, when out on a mission, Gordon was as reliable as they came. They might not have Thunderbird Five’s data at their disposal, or Scott’s leadership, or Virgil’s muscles, but they did have two working brains between them.

Panicking, as Alan had learnt the hard way on other rescues where things went wrong, did him no favours at all. He swallowed back the instinctual panic and met Gordon’s eyes in the artificial half light of the glowstick from Gordon’s baldric.

“So what’s the good news?” he asked.

“The good news,” Gordon said with a flourish and grin reserved for when things weren’t going their way and Alan’s immediate brother decided the world wasn’t allowed to do that, “is that I think I’ve found us a way out.”

“You think?” Alan couldn’t help but question, even though he was already scrabbling his way to his feet and looking around in the hopes of seeing whatever Gordon had found.

“Over here.” He followed the glowstick as Gordon headed over towards where the rubble looked the thickest, blocking them in. “There’s air flowing in.”

Neither of their uniforms offered much by way of exposed skin, but Alan leaned down where Gordon gestured and took off his helmet just long enough to feel a faint breeze on his cheek.

“Where’s that coming from?” he asked, tugging his helmet back on. Gordon pointed at the floor, or what had once been the floor.

“It’s coming from down there,” he said.

“The floor?” Alan knelt down where Gordon gestured. “Why would it be coming from the- oh.”

The house they’d been in, and were now trapped inside, had been an old one. Alan didn’t remember the exact age, but it was a couple of centuries old at least. Old houses, especially larger ones, had secret passageways.

“So how do we get it open?” he wondered out loud, already rummaging around the area. Gordon crouched down next to him with a shrug as his hands joined Alan’s in trying to find a way to open the passageway that had to be there if they were getting airflow.

“Figured finding ways to open secret passages was more your thing,” his brother admitted. “Don’t those games of yours have secret passageways in all the time?”

The question was an honest one, and Alan blinked. “Well, yeah,” he said, “but those are games. This is real. It won’t be the same.” Despite his words, his fingers were still pulling and pushing at the stones that made up the floor, because at least it was a lead.

They could, of course, wait for their bigger brothers to barge their way in, with Virgil encased in his exosuit and Scott so close behind he’d be standing on his heels while John guided them non-stop over the comms, but there was still a lot of work to be done and they were deep inside the building.

Said building took that moment to groan again, threatening another collapse if they didn’t get out pronto. Alan loved his brothers, but he wasn’t about to get crushed because he’d waited helplessly for rescue. The danger zone covered a large area, and while he and Gordon had found no casualties in their sector, Virgil and Scott would have to prioritise the civilians elsewhere no matter how much they might be panicking about losing contact with the pair of them.

If he and Gordon could find their own way out, so much the better.

“It’s close enough, right?” Gordon shrugged, still sounding inappropriately light-hearted for the situation. Alan didn’t take it personally – Gordon’s coping strategies had time and time proven themselves to be effective.

“I’ll let you know,” he grunted, finding ridges in the stone floor. “Bring that light closer. I think I’ve got something.”

The sickly green glow spread across more of his vision as Gordon held it close to his hands, illuminating the remains of the floor below them. There were multiple ridges carved into the stone, all uniform and completely mundane.

Except for the section that wasn’t.

Alan almost missed it, huffing in defeat as he sat on his haunches and rubbed at his shoulder again. At a glance, it looked no different to the rest of the floor, but it had caught his glove in a way the others hadn’t. It was also in the same place as the mysterious airflow.

Gloved fingers scrabbled at the discrepancy, hunting for a purchase that would hopefully reveal their way out. Gordon had moved to crouch right next to him, holding the glowstick aloft but otherwise keeping his hands to himself and leaving the investigation to Alan. His presence there was comforting, helping Alan to keep it together when part of him wanted to scream into his dead comms in the hope that John would pick it up anyway.

There was a click, barely audible over the noise of creaking masonry in their immediate vicinity. Alan felt it rather than heard it, his fingers suddenly pressing down as the resistance vanished. Age old mechanisms whirred back into life, until with a clunk part of the floor moved down and to the side, revealing a small, dark, passageway leading down into the belly of the house.

“Nice one,” Gordon acknowledged, leaning forwards and peering into the inky depths. A second glowstick was snapped and tossed in, illuminating what was definitely a rough-hewn rock corridor. “I’ll go first.”

He was halfway in by the time the words registered, and Alan peered at the opening with some reluctance. “And you’re sure this will get us out?” he checked, because he didn’t want to wait to be rescued like a civilian, but he also had no intentions of being buried alive.

“That air’s coming from somewhere,” Gordon reminded him, edging forwards a few more paces until he reached the glowstick laying where it had landed on the floor of the corridor. “And the roof of this thing seems pretty sturdy.” He rapped it a couple of times with his knuckles. “If the rest of the house collapses, this’ll be the last thing to go.”

A glance around showed that his brother was probably right. Alan swallowed before following him inside, sticking right on Gordon’s heels as the older blond led the way, glowstick held up high for light.

As far as passages went, it was small. Apt for a secret passage, but annoying when the ceiling lowered and the pair of them had to stoop almost double to get through some sections. It twisted and turned, in some areas narrow enough to force them to go through sideways, and at one point the way forwards seemed to vanish altogether before Alan realised a shaft of rock was concealing the next section.

It definitely lived up to its likely original purpose of a secret escape. Pursuing someone through there would be difficult; luckily, the only aim Alan and Gordon had was getting out of the collapsed building.

The first sign of the outside world was when their comms crackled in unison. It was impossible to make anything out through the static, but the garbled voice of John was definitely missing the calm tones their ginger brother usually deployed on rescues. Scott’s response was short and sharp, clipped in a way that screamed panic, and the low rumble of Virgil felt on edge, too.

Returning comms promised that they had to nearly be out, and Alan stumbled forwards, almost catching himself with his painful shoulder before he arrested his momentum with his healthy arm instead.

Neither he nor Gordon spoke, even though he was certain the same thoughts had to be running through his brother’s head as well. They were close, but they weren’t out yet, and had no reassurance that the exit for the secret tunnel hadn’t been collapsed or buried by more falling debris.

Still, it remained the best chance they had. Alan didn’t fancy trailing back through the passageway and sitting back in the rubble of the building, and he knew Gordon felt the same, so pushing onwards was their only choice. It continued to twist and turn, dog-legging and backtracking with no apparent rhyme nor reason. Alan tried to keep track of it in his head, logging it like any secret passage in Cavern Quest, but it put all the virtual ones to shame.

Then Gordon stopped, and Alan walked straight into him.

“Ow!” he exclaimed instinctively, before stepping back a pace. “Why have we stopped?”

“It doesn’t go any further,” Gordon said, holding the glowstick high. It was running out of juice, leaving the sickly green glow far fainter than it had been earlier. It was barely enough light to make out his brother’s face, let alone whatever the rocks surrounding them were doing. “This must be the end.”

“So get us out,” Alan shrugged, rubbing his shoulder and trying to hide the wince of pain that came with the action. Their comms were still broadcasting garbled static interspersed with panicked voices, but the signal was still too poor to even attempt to get hold of John. “There’ll be a mechanism somewhere. Try looking for something slightly off in the ridges on the stone?”

“Trying,” Gordon grunted. The faint green-lit silhouette of his shoulders strained as he pushed and pulled at the rocks. “Not finding anything, Alan.”

“Let me try.” He pushed forwards, trying to squeeze past Gordon to get a better look at the wall of rock blocking their way. Gordon fell back without complaint, although it took a lot of pushing and pulling, and a concerning scrape against his helmet before they managed it.

Alan was struck by a flash of gratitude that none of their older brothers were with them. Scott and John would both be too tall, and Virgil was too bulky. Getting through the passageway with one of them would have been a nightmare. At least he hadn’t yet stopped growing and Gordon was small – not that he planned on mentioning that to Gordon just yet. There was a time and a place for the teasing, and this was neither.

With Gordon now behind him, looming over his shoulder with the ever-fading glowstick held out helpfully in his periphery, Alan reached out and felt around for something similar to the switch he’d found to get them into the tunnel from the other end. Carefully uniform ridges carved across the rock and he followed them with his fingers until, finally, something gave.

Bright light spilled in as the end of the tunnel opened, blinding him with midday sun.

That, however, paled in comparison to the way both their comm audios suddenly sharpened.

“Any sign of them?” Scott’s voice demanded.

“Keep working on getting the mother out of that room,” John non-answered, still sounding far too on edge. “Virgil, there’s a small life sign the other side of the wall.”

“F.A.B.” The forced calm of Virgil’s voice told Alan he was no less agitated than the other two.

“Hey guys.” Gordon chipped in, echoing in Alan’s helmet from the comm channel in stereo with the sound of his voice in real time. “Where do you need us, Thunderbird Five?”

“Gordon!” All three voices overlapped in frantic cacophony. “Where are you?” Scott demanded. “Where’s Alan? Are you okay?”

“I’m here, too,” Alan promised.

“We’re fine,” Gordon added. “Who’s left to save?”

“Virgil and Scott are on the last life signs now,” John told them. “Your signals have reappeared a fair way out from the danger zone; get yourselves back to Thunderbird Two.”

Alan looked around and realised he was right – the two Thunderbirds gleamed in the sunlight, but it was immediately clear that the passageway they’d taken had led almost directly away from the crafts. Even in a straight line, the walk was going to take a good quarter of an hour.

Next to him, Gordon sighed and started walking. “F.A.B.,” he agreed. Alan stumbled a little as he lurched forwards to keep up. “We’ll see you there.”

Sure enough, by the time they arrived, both on-site brothers were waiting impatiently. It was clear that it was only the presence of their rescuees that had stopped them from striking out to meet them, but even that wasn’t enough to stop their big brothers charging towards them as soon as they were visible.

Scott reached them first, always the fastest runner, and Alan let out an oof as he was crushed into a frantic hug alongside Gordon. Worried blue eyes looked them both over, narrowing as they found something they didn’t like.

He was pushed aside as Virgil reached them, Thunderbird Two’s pilot refraining from giving them a bear hug only because he’d clearly spotted the scrape on Alan’s helmet as he’d approached.

“Are you hurt?” A medscanner was deployed almost before Virgil was finished talking. Scott didn’t wait for permission from anyone before carefully detaching Alan’s helmet and peering at his head. Alan didn’t bother to stop him.

“I’m fine!” he made sure to protest, though, although his hand betrayed him as it subconsciously moved across to rub at his shoulder again. None of his brothers missed the action, and before he knew it he was being whisked inside the green Thunderbird so Virgil could take a closer look.

Scott hovered worriedly by his side, glancing over periodically at Gordon. Alan followed suit, catching Gordon’s eye, and his brother rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. It was fond, though; Alan wasn’t at all surprised by Scott and Virgil’s behaviour, and he highly doubted Gordon was, either.

It was just a hazard of having older brothers.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #alan tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #drabbles #thunderfluff #janetm74 #secret tunnel

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