#saying to the first a snarky ''come on love i know you need to sneeze'' and to the second a sweet ''don't worry love i won't let you sneeze | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dream-a-little-bigger-darling000 · 3 years

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You'll Fit So Nicely You'll Keep Me Intact

Author's Note: Hello Hello! Not my GIF, please don't think it is, but it is my fic! I asked a few days ago if I should do Bane or touch-starved Tommy, and it was pretty clear I should do my sweet summer child Tommy boy. I just really think this big tough fighter needs to take a break and be held every once in awhile. And you can't tell me this man wouldn't have the sweetest moans. Fight me on it you can't. Please Please PLEASE reblog, like, or comment on this if you liked it. I live my day to day life craving validation.

If you absolutely hated it, also let me know! I admit I'm not the best at writing, and I'm willing to learn so I can feed my Tommy Conlon addiction. Ok, that's all, be fed!

2400+ words?! C'mon, that's gotta be enough to make you proud.

The whole fiasco was genuinely an accident.

The two of you, in his small cramped apartment, helping each other make dinner, because you couldn't remember whose turn it was, walking around each other like you had been doing it for years, because you had been.

You had been by Tommy for as long as you can remember, through those years where puberty slammed in the door and decked you directly in the throat (and other places), through the time where his family had slowly fallen apart, and into the years where he had joined the US Marine Corps.

Those years had been hell. At least when he moved away you were still able to text him annoying day-to-day updates and talk in the quiet nights when no one was awake to hear you admit how much you missed each other. But when he joined the Marines, you heard even less from your Tommy, and the ache you felt for him only grew.

When he came back, he had came back for good, immediately seeking you out with the promise of your old relationship back. And things went back to normal, slotted into place perfectly.

Except the insane amount of pining that you went through every waking hour you saw his stupidly attractive face.

But you weren't going to think about that. There was spaghetti to be made.

"Those are done." Tommy nodded his head to the noodles as he made the salad. You sneered to yourself, still pissed that he got the easy part.

"No, they're not, look, that one's still hard-"

"That's what she said."

"It's still undercooked you jerk. Can you please let me cook in peace? You're over there, doing the bare minimum, you ass."

"Hey, if this isn't tossed right, the whole thing is ruined. And those noodles are definitely done. We can get them in the sauce before the garlic bread is done so it'll cool down a bit. Look." All the sudden Tommy was crowded up behind you. Your breath did something funny. Probably the steam from the boiling water. Because, you know, it's so hard to breathe around.

Tommy took the spoon you were using to stir and managed to scoop up a single noodle. He then carefully picked it up and threw it on the cabinet. It stuck, but looked like it would fall via a strong sneeze.

"See? Done." You looked behind you to stare up at the infuriating man. He smiled and tilted his head. You had the sudden urge to hit him. With your mouth. Damn it.

He turned around, not giving you a chance to argue with him. That was his first mistake. As a MMA fighter, the idiot should know never to turn your back on the enemy.

You scooped up another noodle with your spoon. You waited until he was truly busy with cutting the tomatoes up for the salad.

You aimed for his head. It wrapped around the back of his neck with a soft splat. He startled for a moment, and then set the knife down and stared forward, still not turning around to look at you.

"You know what, now it's done. Now it's stickin'." You were struggling to hold it together, desperately trying not to laugh as you turned off the stovetop and set the pan aside.

You felt strong arms envelop you from behind, and you let out a loud laugh as you felt your feet leave the floor. Tommy, spinning you around before setting you on the counter. You've really put yourself it a bad position.

Well, if you're being honest, probably the best damn position you've ever been in.

Except that the bastard started tickling you. More laughter spilled out of you, uncontrollable at this point.

"Tommy!" You were out of breath from the constant attack. What happened to never turn your back on the enemy? "Tommy, what are we in-" More laughter as his joined yours. You two were so close you could feel his shoulder dip every time he rumbled a laugh. "what are we in 6th grade now- Tommy!"

You could feel his laughter huff by your ear, and you knew you had to resort to dirty tactics. If he wanted to play by middle school standards, then you had no choice but to stoop down to his level.

Tommy was very distracted trying to murder you by laughter alone, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. He never even realized your hands were so close to his head. He was in the middle of another fit of giggles when he felt your nimble hands glide through his hair. He had half a second to understand what you were planning, and he was just about to pull away, to get as far from you as possible before-

You gave a solid pull to his hair. You felt satisfaction shoot through your body as his laugh choked off, his body going rigid underneath your fingers. His breath stuttered and his hands instantly fell from your sides to grasp the edge of the counter.

You didn't quite understand what was going on at first, the only thing on your mind being that you'd won the battle. You couldn't help the smug smile from sliding across your expression, or the snarky little giggle that bubbled it's way out.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Did someone school you at your own game, hmm? Maybe next time you'll think before you-"

"Could you please let go?" Tommy sound winded, like he'd just fought a few rounds with someone much bigger than him. It made you pause, and then frown.

Your fingers loosened from his hair, but you didn't lower your arm just yet. You couldn't fathom why Tommy was acting this way, when he instigated the rough-housing. And you knew for damn sure you hadn't hurt him. You had seen the idiot stub his toe on his coffee table before, and the only reaction out of the fighter was a pause, a look up to the ceiling, and one long, drawn out sigh.

So even though he sounded like he was trying to fight for his life, you know it absolutely wasn't because you had hurt him in anyway. Tommy could break you five times over.

You looked down at his hands. Not only was he grasping the edge of the counter top, but his knuckles were white, like he was anchoring himself. You glanced to his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration. Was he- was that a blush? His body was still pulled tight.

Experimentally, you lightly scraped your nails along his scalp.

If Tommy were to ever hear you call the sound that came from him a whimper, he'd probably swiftly and effectively dispose of your body. But it was a fucking whimper.

His eyes snapped open wide and met yours. You saw his utter mortification. You would say you felt guilty, but having your long time crush whimper while slotted between your thighs as you sat a top a kitchen counter really did things for you.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for letting your mind fall into the gutter as your friend so obviously had a small break down.

Before you could get a word out, to try talk him down from whatever thoughts were swirling in that pretty head of his, Tommy was out of kitchen. Ah, so he's chosen drama today? Coming from a man who would rather fight his own brother than talk, you can't really find it in yourself to be surprised.

"Tom." You dropped down from the counter, heading toward the living room, which was the only way he could've gone. As you rounded the corner, you saw him pacing the length of the room, his hands interlaced behind his head, elbows out, eyes wild.

"Tommy." You smoothed out your voice, pictured yourself trying to calm down a particularly flighty horse. You know, if the horse were the love of your life and you were desperately trying to make things less weird between you two before the already delicate friendship collapsed.

At your gentle prod he stopped. He let his hands fall down to his sides. He huffed once. Crossed his arms, made a face, and then dropped them. His fists curled up into balls and he closed his eyes. He opened one and looked toward you.

"You didn't hear that."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your own arms to your chest.

He pointed to the kitchen. "That didn't happen."

Because you love your best friend very much, you didn't roll your eyes.

"Tommy. Calm down. Take a deep breath." He did not take a deep breath. You did for him. Then another one for you. You moved toward the couch, and the way he suddenly looked like he was about to sprint out the door didn't escape you. You held your hands up placatingly. Easy, boy.

You sat down, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you. He looked at you wearily. You gave him a pointed look, one that said this is something to be discussed, and there's no way you're getting out of it, and gently patted the space for him.

He looked like he'd rather do anything else. He eventually made his way to the spot and plunked down, but as close to the arm of the couch as possible.

You gave him a sweet smile. He looked away, but not before you caught the blush. You decided to let him speak first.

It was quiet for awhile. Your thoughts went to the noodles still sitting on the counter, probably cooling in the water making a film. He cleared his throat.

"I don't. Not a ton of people touch me." He stared dutifully in front of him. You stayed silent, afraid of scaring him into silence again. He shifted uncomfortably, letting out a growl of frustration. "I mean people touch me. I just meant. It's not. It's," He looked like each word was slowly strangling him, "Never that intimate. I guess. And never anyone like you."

You're eyebrows shot up. His head jerked toward you.

"Not like that, I mean like someone so pretty." You choked a little. He visibly flinched. "Ok. I think that's enough for tonight. I think I've made plenty an ass of myself for one God forsaken night." He made to move, but your hand covered his before you really thought about it. He immediately stopped, staring at your hand on top of his.

"Tommy, it's ok." He gave you a dubious look. "No, really. Lots of people don't know how to deal with touch when it's not normal for them-"

"I'm fine, I touch people all the time, it doesn't matter it's ridiculous-"

"Tommy." He stopped. You lifted both hands to slowly cradle his face. His eyes were panicky. He looked like he was fighting every instinct inside him. "Listen to me, love." His eyes widened. "You don't have to explain anything. I need you to know it's ok to freak out a little. It's ok for this to be new." You bit your lip. "It's ok if it feels good."

A small sound came from the fighter. His eyes slipped closed. It suddenly hit you. You sucked in a sharp breath, and you started to gently stroking his face to his neck.

"Oh Tommy. You spend all that time fighting in the ring, so much time dominating. You barely let anyone touch you before you knock them away." His dad was probably never there to offer him any type of physical love, and his mom was too distanced from anyone to truly give what Tommy craved. By that time, he had pushed his brother away, and you had never really noticed him to be very active in the dating area.

You could feel his control slipping, could feel him slowly letting you hold his head up while he explored the sensation of someone just feeling him. When he spoke, his speech was slightly slurred.

"Was always jus' scared."

"I know Tommy."

"Didn' want you t' leave."

"And why would I do something stupid like that."

There was a second of silence, but Tommy was too far in to go back now.

"Cuz' I only wanted you to touch. Only ever you." Your heart stopped. His eyes slowly opened, meeting yours. His gaze snapped to your lips, back up to your eyes. All it took was for your eyes to snap to his lush mouth, and he was surging to meet you.

You felt like you were melting, melding into him. His lips were sliding against yours, his hands suddenly huge, thumbs cupping your face while his hands rested on the sides of your neck. He kissed like you see him fight. The urgency and the power and the emotion. You ached all over.

You could hardly remember your name when you finally separated, heaving lungfuls of air. Maybe all that oxygen deprivation had really done something to your brain, because you might be having a stroke. It almost smelled like something was burning. Tommy's face did something funny and he sniffed the air.

Oh. OH. The garlic bread.

Both of you made a mad dash for the kitchen, Tommy arriving first and throwing the oven door open, grabbing whatever cloth he could find to take out the charred bread as you used a dishrag to flap away any smoke that spilled out.

Once he made sure his apartment wasn't going to burn down or that the ambulance wan't going to be making a surprise visit, he slumped against the counter, breathing heavily. You put your hands on your hips.

A few second went by, both of you trying to catch your breath. Tommy looked up at you. You met his eye.

You both melted into peeling laughter, trying to stay upright. It seemed like every time you two would get your shit together, you'd fall right back into cackles.

He finally reigned in the worst of the laughter, and slowly made his way to where you were standing. Your own laughs died down.

"Are we good?" you ask him gently. He nods his head, with his sweet smile.

"We're good" he replies gently. He gets this determined look on his face, and steps real close to you. He doesn't do anything else for awhile, instead looking to you, asking with questioning eyes.

You give him an encouraging smile. He smiles right back at you, and for the second time tonight, strong arms envelop you.

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thedevilsdom · 3 years

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Im so nervous lol.

just wanted to say that you made me accept a lot of my kinks that I thought were gross and felt bad for having so thank you soo much 💕

I saw an Obey me snz fic you made and was wondering if you take requests?? I have been looking everywhere for a Mammon snz fic and sadly there isn't almost any snz content in the fandom 😢

It's okay of you can't take requests now tho!! I don't want to make you uncomfortable lol

aw I’m glad I could be of some help!!

Ships: Mammon/GN!MC Contents: Sneezes, Dom/Sub, Handjobs, Rope bondage, Butt Plugs, Praise Wordcount: ~1.5k

He’s your good boy. He’s always your good boy, and you’re always delighted to see that he’s usually willing to indulge you in whatever it is you want to do.

Though this time, as you’re tying him up, something feels just a little bit off.

You had called him over to your room, putting on a little bit of perfume on your neck and wrists as you prepped the rope and anything else you’d need. Some silky white rope, a spreader bar, and a cage muzzle. All things you’ve used on him before, so really there was no need to suspect that a single thing would be off.

Now, as you finish the knots securing his hands over his head and tied to the bedframe, you pull back and notice that he doesn’t look quite… There. His eyes aren’t quite focused, and his brow is juuust a little bit pinched. He looks like he’s trying to focus but can’t.

“Mammon?” You ask, kneeling between his spread legs, “Everything alright?”

“Eh? Yeah, yeah of course.” He’s quick to nod and try to dismiss your worries. You give him a disbelieving look while you reach behind you on the bed to grab the little vibrating plug and the lube you’d brought,

“Okay, if you’re sure. Make sure you tell me if anything’s wrong, ‘kay?” You say, apprehensive. He smiles and agrees, eager to have your hands on- and in- him. You lube up your fingers and bring them down between his legs, easily slipping one into him and pulling a low sigh from his throat.

“Theeere you go,” You begin to slowly drag the pad of your finger along his inner walls, stroking across his prostate and making his legs give little shivers. He’s so pliant and willing like this, not to mention needy. It didn’t take long to get him squirming and trying to push down onto the single finger that’s inside him.

“Does my good boy need more inside him? You want something to fill you up?” You purr. His whole body shivers. His hands form fists, discontent with being uselessly tied above him, wanting to reach out and grab you and hold you up to himself.

“Please, ple-mph- please!” Mammon cries out. He always gets so needy, all for you. You add a second finger, listening to him whine. Though, normally by this point, he’d be begging you to kiss him. Tying him up and muzzling him like this is your favorite way of depriving him of that closeness he loves so much, only to give it to him tenfold later in the night, but it isn’t any fun if he doesn’t beg for it.

“Mammon, baby,” You hum, slowing the push of your fingers to a crawl, “You don’t want kisses?”

He freezes as your eyes lock onto his. Even he recognizes that that isn’t normal behavior. After a moment, he breaks eye contact to look to the side and mumble something. When you don’t respond, he speaks up.

“You muzzled me already, I know that I won’t be getting any kisses now, what’s the point in asking?” He pouts.

“Oh, so we’re being bratty tonight? Is that it?” Your free hand squeezes the meat of his thigh and he blanches.

“I- I’m sorry! Please just- just keep going?”

“Hmph,” You start stroking his cock as you fuck him with your fingers, “You’re lucky I’m feeling so generous tonight. Any more attitude from you and I’ll have you over my knee.”

“Yeah- ngh- yeah, MC, thank you,” He mutters. Normally something like that would earn you a snarky comment in return, but you suppose he must just be feeling awfully subservient tonight. You cast a glance up at him and catch that same bleary, unfocused look from before. You give him a few more pumps of your hands before pulling them back completely. You easily slide the plug into his ass and press the button on the little remote, setting it to a low vibration, then you get up on your knees and move to over him. He looks confused when you suddenly straddle his lap.

“I wonder how long you’ll last like that.” You grind your ass back on his cock.

“I- hih- I don’t think- wait, hang on, MC-“ He mutters. You see him squint for a moment before a look of what you can only describe as shock crosses his face for just a split second before he quickly, desperately, turns his head to the side, the metal cage of his muzzle hitting his bicep, his whole body tensing-

“ha’ikshiew!” He sneezes to the side, uncovered. Immediately after, he looks mortified. Eyes wide, brow pinched, not-even-looking-at-you mortified. “I-I’m- That was so gross, I’m so sorry, MC, something’s been makin’ my nose itch all ni-hih! Fuck- huh-tshh! Hih-knxght! Huh-ktshiew!” A barrage of sneezes hit him, try as he might to stifle them.

The poor boy looks like he’s about to start crying, he’s so embarrassed.

He’s supposed to be your good boy, your always-sexy sub who gives you all the best reactions, how is he supposed to do that if he just made a fucking mess of his arm and muzzle with his sneezes? You probably think he’s disgusting and gross. He keeps his gaze trained away from you as he anticipates the incoming rejection and demand for him to get out of your room.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, he feels a warm hand on top of his head, and fingers carding through his hair, pulling his fringe out of his face.

“Cute.” You chuckle. “Must be my new perfume.” You turn up the vibrator with a press of the button, and his hips buck involuntarily behind you, head falling back with another hitch of his breath. “Here,” Your hand presses at the back of his head, urging him to lean forward and rest his forehead on your shoulder. You feel the warmth of his skin and the cold, wetness of his muzzle. “Can you smell it?”

“Can’t- hihh… I can’t smell much of an-anything,” His words are punctuated by soft sniffling as he tries desperately to keep the mess from dripping. “MC, MC, I’m hehh go-gonna- hik-TchEW! HAKNT-tchiuhh- HikTCHIEW!” He lets out a handful more sneezes against you as you pet his hair, offering a tired little huff at the end of the fit. He sniffles, strong and wet, in a desperate bid to not make any more mess than he already has.

“Oh, my poor baby,” You reach behind with the hand that isn’t on his head, beginning to stroke his needy cock. His head felt light and dizzy from the sneezing, and somehow that made your touch feel even more intense. He lets out a little cry, thighs tensing when you jerk him off. “This feels good, doesn’t it Mammon?”

“’S good, so good,” He sniffs, “wanna kiss you,” He mutters, small against your shoulder. You barely heard it, and you know that he must be so embarrassed asking for such a thing, especially now. The hand on his head undoes the muzzle, dropping it into your lap. He doesn’t have a second to object or even to process before you’re taking his chin between your fingers and angling his head up, pressing a kiss to his lips. They’re wet from the spray, and the humiliation of it only makes Mammon’s blood run hotter.

“My good boy,” You hum when you pull away, guiding his head back down to your neck, “You close?” The sound that leaves his lips is something akin to a rough, ragged sob. Your hand holds the back of his neck possessively. You may not have him collared this time, but this has very much the same effect.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m close,” He nips at your neck, the scent of your perfume hitting him full force now, but he still doesn’t have his hands or arms to cover himself. “Ah- Aktchiew! HekTSHH!” He sneezes hard against your skin. “Huhh- fuuuck- ‘m so close, MC,” He whines, hips twitching and squirming under you.

“Such a needy boy I have,” You purr with what almost sounds like pride in your voice. It’s intoxicating to him. “Cum for me.”

Like a wire snapping, his back bows and his orgasm crashes through him. His cock throbs, sticky white cum spurting across your fingers and the tops of his thighs, some spilling over your hand. He moans, fucking up into your hand again and again, until his shivering and crying out from the overstimulation he’s giving himself. Only then you give him some mercy, turning off the plug and pulling your hand away. He lets out shaky sighs against you.

“My good boy,” You lean back, “Always my good boy.”

“Mhmm,” He hums with a dopey smile and a sniffle, “Always yours.”

You lean forward and give him a kiss to his heated forehead, then push your cum-slicked fingers past his lips. He dutifully gets to work lapping up his mess and suckling on your fingers obediently, humming contentedly as he does it. Once you’re all clean, you untie his hands and start rubbing feeling back into them.

“I’ll never know what I did to deserve such a good boy,” You plant a kiss to his wrist, where the rope was tied, “Thank you, Mammon. ‘M gonna take good care of you now, okay?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

“U-uh- yeah- can… Can we shower first? So- snf- so you can get that perfume off at least? I don’t think I’d be able to handle any more sneezing.” He says with a shy laugh. “Not that- not that I’m not down for uh- for a repeat some other time.”

A repeat, hm?

You tuck that thought away for now, giving him a quick pet on his head before skipping off to get a bath ready.

#sneeze #snez #sneezefic #obey me #omswd #mammon #obey me mammon #my writing #Anonymous #snz

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mccoymccoymccoy · 3 years

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Kirk - Go to your quarters or I’ll pick you up and carry you there.

A/N: I KNOW. I KNOW THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE OPPOSITE CONTEXT FROM WHEN HE SAID THAT. BUT WHEN HE SAID IT WE ALL GOT A TINGLE, NO? oh well. silly little brain.

Word count: 1,531

God, you were tired. Finally a calm day on the bridge- no engine repairs needed, no hostile encounters, no pointless orders from Starfleet- and yet it felt like the longest day since your shore leave on a planet with twenty hours of sun. Your nose was red and sore from patting at it with your sleeve, and you had a headache like what you imagined being struck by an ice pick would feel like.

“All in order, cap-” you paused, face contorting into the classic pre-sneeze expression. Oh, go away, go away, go away! Miraculously, it did. “-tain,” you finished, rubbing the side of your finger against your nose. He turned around and raised an eyebrow at you. “Lieutenant, it seems like you’ve still got a bit of that cold left. Didn’t Bones order you to take three days off? As long as I can still count, it’s only been two days.” Spock, who was walking past, nodded. “You can indeed still count, captain.” You sighed.

“Sir, with all due respect, a little almost-sneeze isn’t anything to worry about. I believe I’m perfectly able to perform my duties,” you lied.

He put one hand on his hip while the other pinched his forehead, and sighed right back at you. “Y/N, we don’t know how this cold- this virus, works. You heard what Bones said, it’s not like the old common Earth cold. You got hit the worst out of the landing party.” He may be a walking bullshit detector, but his reasoning was a void attempt to you.

You saw your duties as more important than anything, which he normally had incredible respect for, but you’d already lost out on two days. Two days, just kicking around your quarters and sneaking around your deck trying to find something to do. Somehow, every time, Bones or an ensign found you and had to bring you back. Mimicking him, you placed your hands on your hips and shifted your weight to one foot. You were starting to feel a bit light-headed, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the cold or him.

“Come on, Y/N.”

You looked down. His insisting this was really starting to make you nervous- not just because of the prospect of missing out on work. You were so fond of him that surely the rate of your heart and the anxious sweating would just make him more firm in his decision that you were unfit to work! Thinking about him made your headache worse than it already was, too. “Captain, please. I’m alright.” Your nose twitched another sneeze away.

“No more arguing, lieutenant. You’re off for the rest of today and tomorrow. That’s an order. Go.”

“Sir, please-”

“Go to your quarters or I’ll pick you up and carry you there.”

You froze. Your face flushed at the thought, and the pressure you’d been adding to your one leg became too much, causing a little stumble. Jim grabbed onto your arms quickly, steadying you. You started to explain about the pressure, but he shook his head. “Spock, you’ve got the bridge. Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you outta here,” he said before sweeping you off your feet into a bridal carry.

Captain Kirk, Captain James T. Kirk, was carrying you back to your own goddamn quarters. You pressed the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his neck against your face to cover your blush- What was his deal! “Captain, if you’re that concerned about my health, perhaps you wouldn’t want to be, well, this close to me? Please, put me down.” He looked down at you, brows furrowed. “It’s not a cold transmitted by contact, Lieutenant,” you sighed a little at him using your official title while carrying you like this. “Doctor McCoy explained that to you already. You’re tired, you almost collapsed on the Bridge, you need to get some sleep and rest. I won’t say it again.”

“But-” He softly stroked your shoulder with his thumb, and it shut you up immediately.

“That’s all I gotta do to quiet you down?” It had clicked for him just a few seconds prior that you weren’t acting strangely just because you were sick. He smiled down at you- something you’d usually expect to be snarky from anyone else after the last comment, but not from him. You knew your face must be redder than your shirt by now, and without thinking, you pressed into his chest to try to hide it. You felt his next chuckle more than you heard it.

You stayed like that for a few moments more until he made it to your door, inside, and to your bed, where he put you down gently. You sat up immediately, and he smiled again.

“Give it up, Lieutenant. I wouldn’t want to have to confine you to your quarters.” You frowned. “Captain, nothing is more important to me than my work. I’ve just got a headache and a tickly nose, at least clear me for tomorrow!” Your head pounded at the effort of raising your voice and you cringed in pain. Jim frowned now too, reaching out and then sitting down beside you. He thought for a moment, while you looked down with your hands in your lap.

“You know, Lieut- Y/N, you know, you’d be no good at your tasks right now anyway.” You laughed quietly. “Gee, thanks, Cap.” You watched as his hand found its way into your lap and between your clammy ones, fingers lacing with yours. He was looking at you, but your own eyes were glued to your lap. His next words were spoken so softly, you could hardly believe this was the same man who’d yelled at you earlier to take a rest.

“That didn’t quite come out how I meant. I meant, you’re an incredible officer who does incredible work here, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to dampen that record because you don’t know how to relax when you need to.”

“This isn’t relaxing,” you sighed. His other hand reached up to cup your cheek, turning your face so you’d look at him. And you did- oh, how you did. How lovely it was to look at him up close, to look so deeply into his eyes you thought you’d never be able to escape. You always tried to avoid eye contact with him, and contact in general- which had always proved difficult. He was always asking you to join the landing party, and then dinner after, and a game in the rec room, and a gym session- you always tagged along, feeling like a pity case and wondering why he’d have you there. It had never once occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way about you as you did him.

“I know. Maybe I could help that?” His eyes flickered to your lips for a moment, then back up. You looked down, leaning into his hand on your cheek and finally beginning to grasp the one in your lap rather than just letting it be there. “Maybe,” you said, barely above a whisper. He closed in, slowly at first, then quickly- he kissed you sweetly, and to say you melted inside would be an understatement. You moved one hand to touch the edge of his jaw ever so gently and felt him smile. He pulled away from you a bit, but stayed close, resting his forehead against yours.

“You sure you won’t catch this cold, Jim?” You smiled, and kept your eyes closed. You felt his breath against your cheek as he chuckled before responding: “So now we’re on a first name basis, I see?” You sat up abruptly, the brain fog hadn’t allowed you to interpret that as a joke. “If we aren’t sir, my sincerest apologies, I just-”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and kissed you again. Shorter this time, but not exactly a peck. You blinked at him, and he grinned.

“I was teasing.”

“Ah. Of course. Maybe I really do need some rest.” His eyes suddenly lit up, almost in a comical lightbulb-moment way. “Why don’t I stay with you a bit longer? You know, make sure you actually stay put and all.” You smiled and looked at the floor once again, but not before picking up on a slight blush from him. He truly was a sweetheart. You nodded, humming. “That would be nice, I think. What about the bridge though?”

“Spock will have it under control for as long as needed,” he responded while laying the two of you down. You wrapped an arm around his waist and cuddled into his shoulder, despite still thinking it’s completely inappropriate for you to do this with the captain- but he doesn’t seem concerned at all. Your tiredness had caught up with you once you finally allowed yourself to relax- you let out a loud yawn, and couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. “Try to sleep now, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Jim,” you mumbled as you started to drift off. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head, and you could feel him smiling again before your mind finally went quiet.

#star trek #star trek x reader #star trek imagine #captain kirk #captain kirk x reader #captain kirk imagine #jim kirk #james t kirk #kirk x reader

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thelittlepoetprincess · 3 years

Text

ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴᴏᴜꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ [Dabi x Reader]

Author's Note: I personally am not a fan of Lizard king here but go off. This took a long ass time to write not to mention proofread and edit. No idea if I'm making another part to this. Also, a lot of this is therapy wagon material. If you want to be tagged in these just say so.

Warnings: Fluff for a bit, Implied depression, mild spoilers, light mental manipulation, degrading, power play, oral sex(F receiving), hate sex, death mentions, arson, and physical abuse.

Summary: You chose your job over Dabi, and then severely regret it once he survives.

The numbness of grief was overwhelming, even more so when the one you were grieving was your lover. You settled onto the sofa, watching the news drone on about the recent death of Villian Dabi, confirmed now to be Touya Todoroki. You'd turn off the TV and lie on your back, not needing the extraneous details of his death. After all, you killed him.

The memory of it haunted you like ghosts dancing in your memories: the heated warmth of his palms that threatened to burn you but never did, the way he always wore worn down leather or rough worn down jackets, everything about him attracted you and only made his death hit you harder.

You were a lesser-known hero with a restoration quirk, able to numb large areas and heal minor wounds while still using it in large quantities. You'd met Dabi while out on a mission to recover a kidnapped hero, and you couldn't keep your hands off his wounds. Not like he'd let you after he felt your gentle touch ease his pain for once.

Six months, it only took six months for the bad boy to entangle himself into your life. He snuck into your old apartment all the time, made you comfortable, and he'd break down in front of you. He was a surprisingly affectionate lover, despite his many flaws. You'd feel something in your throw blanket, shaking it loose to find the leather jacket he always wore.

The navy blue leather faded slightly and burnt in specific areas where he couldn't control his flames.

You felt the fresh hot tears welling up behind your eyes as you clutched the jacket to your chest. It was much larger than you since Dabi was slightly taller, so your face nuzzled into where his neck would be. It still smelled of cigarettes and burnt flesh, the scent you grew to love so much.

You took a deep inhale, the tears starting to flow as you replayed your shared memories, unable to help the grief overwhelming you. Suddenly, you had no energy nor will to do anything except sleep, even moving was deemed too much to handle. The scent of your boyfriend lulled you to sleep, though it'd be one of the last times it'd do so.

Dabi wrapped his hands around your waist before hoisting you high in the air while the wind blew at your hair in the flowy white lace dress you wore. The undetailed field of wildflowers went on far beyond your sight as he twirled you around before falling on his back with you. You'd both be laughing in the hazy daze of love before sharing a loving kiss as the gentle grass blades tickled your skin.

You felt a leathery hand touch the skin of your cheek, the thick smell of cigarette smoke tickling your nose and making you sneeze before you gently smacked away the hand. You hear a deep, raspy chuckle before the person mysteriously pulls the coat on you like a blanket.

"Little hero, do you love me?" You'd mumble a yes subconsciously, something saddeningly familiar about whoever it was looming over your sleeping form. "Ha, cute. . ." You heard something about leaving and the door shut with a click, leaving you to sleep once again.

Your peaceful sleep is dreadfully short as your friends came in, yanking you from the grasp of sleep with their tumultuous noise.

You quickly hid the jacket, sleepily rubbing at your eyes as they opened your curtains and turned on the TV. It droned on about the agency you worked at and fire. However, you didn't have the energy nor will to care since you planned on quitting anyway.

They droned on about how you'd slept for two days straight and needed to get out, and you agreed. Maybe it would take your mind off of Dabi and the arsenic incident, also the five missed calls from your agency from two days ago. You'd shower and change, pulling your hair back out of your face for the first time for days.

The curls were dry against your fingers so you oiled your hands and massaged them into the brown mass you called hair, plucking it out to its full shape. You pulled on the black and blue dress, noticing how the dress hugged your hips a bit then flowed out to your mid-thigh. Perhaps you've gained a bit of weight these past 2 months.

Tired bags were under your eyes from sleeping for so long. After some light makeup, you left with them to the carnival.

Lights illuminated the dark navy blue sky as you got dragged about, the fun temporarily blinding you from the sadness overwhelming you. They led you into the Maze of Mirrors, their bodies contorting and bending around you confusedly while you searched for them until they disappeared. Their goofy laughter faded into an eerie silence with only your echoing footsteps left to fill the silence. You froze as you smelled a familiar scent: burnt flesh and cigarette smoke.

His chuckles were all around you as you saw the flashes of black and navy blue in the mirrors before he was suddenly standing in front of you.

He was pissed, you knew that snarky glare anywhere. It made you nervous as he closed the distance between the two of you without speaking a word until he backed you against the cold glass. He gently pressed himself against you, giving you no real way to escape him with his arms on both sides of your head. "Dabi-" "Shh, I don't wanna hear it. At least not here, too many people. They're already looking for me since I disappeared. We aren't safe, come on." He didn't ask as he hoisted you over his shoulders to carry you out the back exit.

He seemed gentle while he carried you, he wasn't rough at all. The heat you felt radiating from his palms as he held said otherwise as you worriedly fretted about him burning a hole in your clothes. Though you felt some relief knowing he wasn't dead: he was your love after all. You knew what was coming to you for feeding him arsenic wasn't going to be a gentle, loving reunion of star-crossed lovers. Dabi wasn't that kind of guy.

He made it back to your new apartment after knocking out the security guard at the gate and threw you onto the bed. He'd seemed to get angrier as he got closer to your apartment. Your hair messily fell around your face to make a curly halo around it. He was on top of you before you could attempt to sit up, his warm breath huffing down the side of your neck.

"Now what the fuck were you thinking, huh? An arsenic cupcake? You really wanna get rid of me that badly you snake." He seethed, and you felt the familiar feeling of your wrists being burnt by his flames. You cry out in pain, squirming under his grip with tears in your eyes.

"Oh you're crying, now you're crying. How do you think I felt getting sick and finding out my girlfriend poisoned me?" He'd growl out, as you stopped squirming and sucked it up. He was right, you deserved this. You tried to kill him, and all he'd done was be beside you and attempt to be somewhat of a lover to you. You looked up to him, his blue eyes lacking any gentleness or affection. It was hate, resentment, and importantly: lust.

That's when it hit you that you were a stress reliever for him. Everything that he kept pent up he always let it out on you, and for about a month now he hasn't had it. You'd reach out, gently tracing your fingers along his scars using your quirk to calm him and watch his eyes soften as he quite literally melted under your touch. He'd land on top of you, caging you underneath him with his arms, he exhaled a strained snarl before snatching your hands from his skin.

You couldn't help wincing once you felt the familiar burning sensation of Dabi's quirk in action yet again as the blue flames licked against your skin, at least it wasn't a third-degree this time.

"It was you, wasn't it? My agency, they called then it went up in flames." He didn't answer but you knew the answer by the way he buried into the side of your neck. He always did that when you accused him and he was guilty. You'd chuckle to yourself but yelp when you felt his teeth against the soft skin of your neck, suckling your skin.

You'd squirm as a familiar heat settled itself in the pit of your stomach. He huffed as he finally moved away from the purple bruise he left on your skin. His lips trailed down until he reached your exposed collarbone, chuckling before tracing his hands against your caramel skin sending chills down your spine. He'd kiss, lovingly at that, along the caramel curve of your breasts.

He'd yank you to the edge of the bed, moving between your legs with a focused look in his glimmering eyes. "Dabi, are you mad at me?" He'd chuckle before you'd feel a burn against your thighs while sinking his teeth into the soft plushness of your inner thigh. "Oh darling, I'm fucking furious." The sweet name rolled off his tongue, making you quiver when paired with his teasing licks over your soaked panties.

He paid no attention to your face, his main focus being on the slickness accumulating from your dripping hole. His hands traced up over the stretch marks gently decorating your skin so beautifully before burning off the panties, his tongue grazing the soaked slit before sliding his tongue up to your neglected clit. His mouth was warm and wet against your sensitive bud, making it grow under his expert tongue his suckling sent waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body, and core. The entire room felt hot, and it wasn't helping wherever his hands traced left heated burn trails. You'd run your fingers into hair, yanking it to where his tongue pressed against your hole. "Dabi, please I want it. . ."

"Shut it, I'm still pissed at you." He'd yank your arms away again, pressing his tongue into your hole. Your flavor flooded his tongue, making him lick and devour you hungrily. Your eyes rolled back, your hips subconsciously bucking against his tongue as it buried into your wet hole. Ecstasy, that's all you could describe the feeling at this moment. The waves of heat that swallowed you and threatened to keep you at this moment while your climax built up in that tight ball. You panted like a bitch in heat, your legs trembling as your fingers intertwined in his black hair. "Dabi, I'm. . . .I'm-!"

"Shut up, loud-ass slut. Come if you wanna come so bad!"

He'd say before continuing to devour you, his tongue digging into your spot just enough to send you tottering over the edge in waves of heat. You'd throw your head back, sending your curls flying wildly behind you as you rode out your orgasm and Dabi's face. Your legs closed around his head like a vice, keeping his tongue in your hole while he drank you greedily. He moaned into your nether lips, finally able to pull away with an exasperated breath.

His lips and chin were a mess of your nectar and saliva, but a smirk was on his face now. He'd notice his jacket hidden poorly, but laugh as he moved to take it and pull it on. He'd once again hoist you over his shoulder, humming as he slid his fingers along the walls setting them ablaze. "Dabi-?! What are you doing?! My apartment!" "I let you have too much freedom last time, but don't worry. I'll make it so that I'm the only one you can lean on. Then you'll never leave again."

He'd laugh as he carried you away, ignoring your cries and pleas while the building went up in flames along with everything you'd known up until now. His sick, twisted laughter filled your ears before you felt a hard force against your head, the inky blackness flooding your senses and knocking you out.

#bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi lemon #Dabi #dabi smut #dabi my hero academia #bnha #dabi x reader #dabi fluff

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jesswritesthat · 4 years

Note

hey babe! i love your writing so much!!! so i recently watched kaguya-sama: love is war and i was wondering if you could do a headcanon of kuroo, bokuto and atsumu where their crush gets sick and they visit her and she drags them into her bed to sleep with them? you can decide how it ends. thank you so much in advance if you do end up writing this! i love you and take care of youself💞

Hello lovely! Thank you so much for this, I’ve never seen Kaguya-Sama but it sounds really cute. Also take care of yourself too and I hope these are okay! Much love 💕

Summary: Bokuto, Kuroo and Atsumu checking up on their sick crush headcanons

>>>>—————————>

Bokuto Kōtarō:

• Has felt like he's been missing something all day but couldn't quite decipher what it was until Akaashi mentions how you're off sick.

• Thats when your phone is bombarded with ‘urgent’ messages inquiring about your wellbeing to the dramatic extent of:

[ Kou: (N/N)! You haven't answered me yet, are yOu StiLl AliVe?! ]

[ (N/n): no ]

[ Kou: Aw, can I have your cool headphones then, since you won't be needing them anymore? 😁💕 ]

[ (N/n): Wow Kou, I'll haunt your dumbass at Volleyball games for that. ]

[ Kou: Even in death, your support means everything to me. ]

• Despite his nonsense he kept updated with you throughout the school day by sending memes in hopes of raising your spirits. The most peace you got was during Volleyball Club time - the Ace too invested to message you at that point.

• At the end though he calls his team for a serious discussion and they're all expecting major improvements on their gameplay ready for Nationals.

But no.

"What can I get (N/n) to make her feel better, this is crucial. I need only good ideas!"

• They all knew about his crush on you, he wasn't exactly secretive about it but you were none the wiser. Even so, Fukurōdani offered what advice they could to their friend because like him, they cared about you too.

• "Akaashi picked up your schoolwork." Bokuto says as he walks into your room, waving the papers and placing them on your side.

"And you didn't think to take notes for me?"

"Nah, I wanted to bring you good stuff."

"Fair point."

• Bokutos likely brought everything he could find once he went home and changed/showered - he's got flowers, your favourite snacks, drinks, medicine and some movies to cure your boredom. Like how much do I owe you???

He's says it's fine though, in return you have to be better by tomorrow.

That's not how it works Kou.

• You're both seated on your bed watching some shitty movie when you start getting a bit sleepy and you just want warmth.

"Can you give me a hug Kōtarō? I just need a hug, I know how weird that sounds..."

• Doesn't even think twice about it, he practically tackles you onto the covers which elicits lovely giggles from you - the potential of him getting sick too isn't even considered, he's just focused on being with you and making you feel better.

• His arms are so warm and they’re beautiful, you forgot how toned he is and you grow so comfortable in his embrace. He’s also really relaxed about it and is calm enough to ramble on normally - except when you nuzzle against him during a cold shiver. Bokuto full on freezes mid sentence, releasing a cautious breath prior to changing the subject.

• It’s obvious he’s content with you though, and surprisingly falls asleep first which makes you laugh. Kōtarō keeps a strong but delicate hold on your body and is subconsciously receptive enough to your every move. You adjusted yourself slightly which stirred him, his voice is much huskier than before due to sleep but remains concerned.

“Can’t you sleep (Y/n)? I can-“

“I’m fine, you’re keeping me warm.”

• With a nod of understanding he’s gone again and you follow shortly afterwards, the both of you unintentionally making the nap a sleepover. Which you only realise the next morning - still in his arms even if the position has changed. You take a few minutes to enjoy it.

• Miraculously doesn't get sick, his immune system must be immortal as he's brimming with energy once he gets up. His radiance is actually contagious as you feel much better in yourself too and his vibrant attitude really motivates you for the day despite being physically exhausted from beating the flu.

• "Your partner is going to be blessed if you bring them breakfast, I mean talk about amazing." You comment as he brings up a plate that he’d crafted in your kitchen, which is surprisingly decent. You suppose he must keep his body fit somehow.

"My crush will have to do for now."

"Wait I - ah, you have a crush on me?"

"Hah, didn't you know? I never tried to hide it or anything."

Kuroo Tetsurō:

• Notices your absence immediately, he's observant by nature but especially where his crush is concerned and he isn't afraid to contact you before class starts.

• "Hey (Y/n), it's Kuroo, are you running late today?"

"Hnn, I'm not gonna make it. I tried but I feel awful - Sickness: 1, (L/n): 0." Already by the grogginess in your voice he can tell you're under the weather and winces at the sound of you stifling a cough.

"Ah geez, go to bed would you? And drink plenty of water, I'll inform the teachers and everything."

"Thanks Tetsurō, I owe you one."

• Will message you at regular intervals throughout the day regarding your health with cute little reminders. You were on his mind frequently, he’s lowkey worried okay?

[ Tetsu: Drink water, and eat breakfast if you can. ]

[ (Y/n): Yeah yeah I have, go learn something. ]

[ Tetsu: Why are you replying? Shouldn't you be sleeping it off - I don't want your germs. ]

[ (Y/n): Sharing is caring. ]

[ Tetsu: Oya? It took a cold for you finally admit you care, so is it gonna take a pandemic to say you love me? 😏 ]

[ (Y/n): 🖕🏻]

• Is actually considerate enough to tell you he'll swing by after practice, and asks if you want anything from the shop so you give basics like water and tablets. Comes equipped with the extra notes he's taken from all of your shared classes and requested papers from teachers in those you don't, so you're not falling behind.

• Aside from the bare minimum you requested, he chucks your favourite snacks on your desk stating that it’s important to keep morale high too. Liar. He just wanted to do something nice for you.

• Checks your temperature despite your protests of not being a child, he only does this because it vexes you and Kuroo finds that cute. As a silent apology for teasing the Hell out of you, he’ll make you some tea and you both get lost in conversation.

• Notices you’re starting to doze off, rest you should’ve had instead of texting everyone - but ensuring everything is fine, he’s about to stealthily exit until your fingers grasp his wrist and tug him back slightly.

"Stay Tetsurō..."

"You'll likely regret that request once you wake up."

"S'ok, it's you."

• The strength you have when tugging him into bed with you catches him completely off guard and he’s actually blushing - doesn’t know what to say but knows he has to at least maintain some composure.

“So uh, never knew you wanted me this badly.”

“Ugh shut up dumbass, I can feel your rapid heartbeat from here.”

“Right...”

• Kuroo goes all shy, you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist and are comfortably leaning against his side and he absentmindedly runs his fingers soothingly up and down your arm to settle his own nerves.

• It’s peacefully silent, simply enjoying one another’s company before he hears your muffled sniffles indicating you’ve fallen asleep and a soft smile graces his lips. If you were his, then he’d definitely kiss your forehead, and lips to be honest, but the fact you aren’t leaves him with a disappointed sigh.

• You both end up taking a nap, waking up wrapped in each other’s arms and noses practically touching which startled the Captain - Kuroo literally falling off of your bed with a yelp much to your amusement. Afterwards, he departs suggesting you get more rest, get better soon and he’ll see you at school next week.

• At least that was the plan, which altered with the text exchange the following morning.

[ Kuroo: Sharing is not caring, I wanted your snacks not your sickness! ]

[ (Y/n): RIP us. 💀 ]

[ Tetsu: You owe me one remember? I've got the house to myself this weekend so would you like to suffer together? I have blankets, entertainment and food. ]

[ (Y/n): Beats sniffling alone, I'll bring the tissues and drugs. ]

• So, you went over with a trail of sneezing in your wake and ended up snuggled with Kuroo under a blanket with a variety of games gracing the TV as you skilfully passed around the tissues. Aside from being ill, spending time like this with him was perfect.

• "Sickness: 2, (L/n) and Kuroo: 0..."

"No, Kuroo: 1.”

"How so? You K.O. a sneeze or something?"

"I got to spend the day with you didn't I? That counts as a win in my book."

"Tch careful, anyone would think the Scheming Captain cares~"

"I do smartass, I care about you a lot (Y/n)..."

Miya Atsumu:

• Atsumu wasn't one to act needy in any way, the only excuse for him to contact you in regards to your absence was to do it with a remark and hope you'd elaborate.

[ Atsumu: Yo, are ya ditching me to survive English on my own? That's cold (Y/n) 😭 ]

[ (Y/n): Sorry 'Tsumu, I'm too busy dying to care rn. Have a fun missing me loser. ]

[ Atsumu: Hah you wish, you alright tho? ]

• You're good friends but he's never really expressed genuine concern about you before, not verbally anyway. You thought the final "K" after you'd told him you were gonna rest would be the end of it.

So you were beyond surprised when he rocked up to your house later that evening.

• It took everything you had not to mock him for his embarrassed stature, solely flustered by the fact you'd seen him so considerate. Admittedly you were also exhausted and probably couldn't think of a snarky reply anyway.

• "What's up? Was there homework or - ugh, or something?"

"Huh? Oh I dunno. But uh, I got 'Samu to make you some Okayu, and a Umeboshi Tea since it's good for colds and stuff."

• Totally pestered Osamu all day to help him make you something and had to do stupid favours in return but Atsumu will deny it if you ever ask.

• “I love how you don’t care what you look like when you have guests over.”

“Take your stupid backhanded compliments and shove them up your pretty litt-“ You bite back, flipping him off in the process while Atsumu remains proudly victorious.

“Nah ah, is that any way to speak to the man who brought you dinner?”

“It’s the way to speak to the man whose currently annoying me.”

“You’re welcome, this is revenge for ditching me in class gorgeous~”

• Despite how irritating he could be, Atsumu stuck around for a bit to make sure you ate everything he’d brought and taken the appropriate medication.

• “Oh yeah, I brought that movie you were talking about the other day. Figured it might pass the time a bit.”

“Thank you! I’ll give it back once I’m better - thank you so much ‘Tsumu.”

Your excitement was endearing, and he had to collect himself a bit since admiring such little quirks was out of the question - his crush was bad enough as it is.

“Wanna watch it now? I haven’t got anything to do so I can give you spoilers.”

“Sounds good - and not a word!”

• You spent the afternoon watching the film and playfully wrestling the blonde in order to shut him up whenever he made an attempt to spoil it - he would never, but provoking you was too funny.

• You settle down later on, putting on a mindless tv show for background noise before collapsing onto your bed with groan. Atsumu raising a smug brow at your exhausted state as he threw his jacket on.

• "Wanna sleep with me?" It was innocent, at least you didn’t think much of it then.

"Do I what now?" He was smirking, thankful that your panic left you oblivious to the blush crawling up his neck at the mere insinuation alone.

"Sleep wit- ohh I did not think that through! I meant sleep in my bed, next to me, to help me drift off. Maybe it's the sleepiness or medicine but I really want you Atsumu..."

"Not helping your case at all." Again he smugly responded, dropping his jacket to the floor with a sly smile.

"Stop smirking and just hug me okay? Then you can leave and tease me about this later."

• Atsumu isn't awkward about it, subduing his nerves enough to pull you into his arms as he sits up - dutifully ignoring the butterflies in his stomach due to your close proximity and the intoxicating smell of your hair.

• Atsumu becomes unintentionally soft, his fingers slowly begin to glide through your hair and he hesitates when he feels the hum of contentment you release before continuing. Your whole body just relaxes against his and he subconsciously does the same, not even realising he was this tense around you - was his body always like that in your general presence?

• As you start quietly talking about nothing and everything, he notices a weakness - you’re a lot more open when drowsy and god he wants to take advantage but knows you’ll remember the questions he asked and murder him for it when you’re able.

• Intead he attempts to protect any dignity he thinks he has left with you - jokes on him, it’s absolutely none. You guys are way past that level and he knows it.

“You better get healthy quick, not that I care but English is really borin’ on my own ya know?”

"The people you truly care about must be really lucky to have you 'Tsumu..." The mumble is enough to make him roll his eyes, but he waits until you’re asleep to reply.

"Yeah... you are..."

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

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another-stark-sub · 3 years

Text

Til Next Semester - Tony Stark Imagine

Summary: You struggle to come up with a gift idea for your engineering professor.

Warnings: no smut, sorry this is pure fluff, age gap mentions, some banter

Word Count: 1338

Notes: No, this is not the Professor Stark fic that I promised ages ago. That one is still under editing. However, I love the Professor Stark idea, so forgive me if those characters keep coming up. I hope you enjoy it!

It wasn’t customary to give teachers gifts. However, in college, you were thankful to find professors that you genuinely cared about. You had extra money, and you wanted to show how much you valued their time and work. Some were easy. Professor Odinson, who taught your Art History class, got a goofy tie and cartoon of fruits. To your Theoretical Physics professor, Professor Van Dyne, a basket full of cookies and candied nuts. It was easy to give your professors gifts. Well, all except one.

Professor Stark was the professor you knew best, actually. He was confident, snarky, and loved donuts. He was the most intelligent man on campus, and you loved learning from him. Not only was it fun being his student, but it was enjoyable.

You knew he’d be happy to get anything. You could get him a box of his favorite donuts or some cufflinks. Those could easily bring a smile to his face. However, what made it difficult to be satisfied with a gift was that you really liked Professor Stark. You really liked him.

You didn’t at first! You weren’t like the girls who fawned over Professor Barnes or Professor Laufeyson. While Professor Stark was attractive, you were there to get a degree first. You just thought of him as easy on the eyes. Then, he just had to be funny. He lured you in with quips and clever nicknames, and it didn’t take long for a physical attraction to turn into infatuation. Then, he hooked you with his kindness.

“Hey, I noticed how frazzled you were the other day. Remember my cheesy speech from the beginning of the semester? If you need anything, I’m here. Extension, extra credit, if it’ll help you succeed, I will do it.”

Not only for you, but for all his students.

“Was that a sneeze? Go home. Write your name down -right here- I’ll email you with details, but I will give you an extension, just make sure you get some medicine and rest before you come back here, ok? Ok. Don’t get me sick, guys. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

How could you not fall for him?

“Just write him a note,” Shuri said. “Like in a yearbook. I like you, this is my number, let’s go on a date.”

You laughed. “I am not in high school. And that isn’t a great Christmas gift.”

“Exactly,” you other roommate, MJ, agreed. “Now, a hookup,that could be a great Christmas gift.” She winked at you, and you hid your smile behind your hands. “You two are horrible.”

They weren’t aware your crush was a professor. It felt nice, though, when they talked about it as if he weren’t. As if you didn’t have a crush on a man over a decade older than you.

“This isn’t just sex, MJ.” Shuri laid down on your bed and put her head in your lap. “No, we need romance here.”

“He doesn’t like me back.” You patted the top of her head. “I told you both, he’s out of my league. Very out of my league, ok? This is just me wanting to, I don’t know, express affection or something.”

The girl on your lap gasped, offended. “Who’s out of your league?”

MJ, however, said, “Any guy would take a hookup in their league or not.”

Shuri responded by sitting, grabbing your pillow, and throwing it at MJ’s face. The target only smirked.

You needed time. You wanted to give Professor Stark his gift on the last day before Winter Break, after your final. You had a week left. You had finished your other finals, so you could strike a conversation after class or during office hours. Then, you could get an idea. Something that would blow your previous ones out of the water.

Scheduling some one-on-one office hours wasn’t hard. A short informal email about finals.

“I look forward to it. As always.”

Usually one line in an email meant bad news, but that only brought joy. As always.

Your days leading up to the office hours weren’t centered around looking pretty but rather with working. While you did enjoy Professor Stark’s class, it was still a challenge. It was full thermodynamics and diagrams and critical thinking. No problem was the same, and to do well on the final and get the mark you wanted, you needed practice.

By the time you were in his office, you had questions of your own. Hopefully, the session would end with you having all the answers.

“Ah, my star pupil.”

You laughed. “You shouldn’t flatter me too much.” You set down your backpack by your usual chair. “If you do, I’ll become you.” You sat down and pulled out your binders and pencils. “And I do not want that.”

“Ouch.” Professor Stark leaned against the side of his desk and instead of looking over the problems you’ve started laying out, his attention was on you. “You don’t wanna become like your favorite professor?”

“Who said you’re my favorite?”

“I should be.” He cleared his throat. “Two masters, four Ph.D.’s, well-known, handsome, revered-”

“Egotistical, old, teaching a bunch of young adults who are definitely high during class.” You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

Instead of scoffing, he just tilted his head. “Did you just admit to being high during my class?”

“Even if I did, you wouldn’t do anything.”

“And why’s that?”

You smiled. “You like me too much.”

His eyes left yours to smile. You won. Not only in wit, but in seeing his smile when he looked back at you. “Unfortunately, you are right.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Alright, let’s take a look.” He flipped through your work, perused your questions, and just like that the banter was over, and it was time for work. Twenty minutes in, he started using the whiteboard. Twenty-four minutes in, you took the marker from him. Some time later, you had all your questions answered. Two minutes after that, Professor Stark gave you new problems to work on.

Three problems solved later, and you started talking about Winter Break and finals and the education system. It turned into a conversation between friends, and you were grateful. He would never look at you the same way you looked at him, but laughing with him and talking with him was enough.

You left, already forming a gift idea.

After being sure you aced your final, you asked Professor Stark if you could ask him questions.

“You do realize you can ask me next semester, right?”

“Are you saying you can’t answer my questions?” You smiled. “Have I finally stumped you?”

He smiled. “Not at all. Mind if we step outside?”

You nodded. When you were outside, you grabbed your gift and card and handed it to him. He stared at the gift, then at you. “For me?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Now I feel like I should’ve gotten you something.”

“An A in your class would be nice.”

“You already earned that. I’ll get you a letter of rec, ok? Just remind me.” He took the mug out of the bag, and he read the inscription out loud. “Favorite Professor.” He pointed the mug at you. “I knew it.”

“Keep going.”

He laughed and looked inside the mug. A gift card for Krispy Kreme.

“There’s something else.”

He dug inside the bag. A small card. I look forward to our next semester. As always. Your favorite student. He stared at the card for a while, a soft smile you had seen only a few times before never wavering. Even when he said, “Who told you you were my favorite?” the smile didn’t leave.

You shrugged. “You didn’t have to.” With a soft smile of your own, you said goodbye. “Til next semester, Professor.”

You fought the urge to look back and succeeded. It was a shame you did. While you thought he would go back inside to proctor the rest of the students, he didn’t. Tony, instead, wistfully gazed upon you as you left. Til next semester, indeed.

#tony stark x reader #fem!reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark oneshot #tony stark x you #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #mcu oneshot #mcu x you #no i did not start writing this at 1 am #not at all #i def did #but like still #inspo struck and i decided to finish this little spinoff draft #this is v late #might have to reblog again #anyway im sleepdeprived so ill stop here

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH 14

Somehow someway you had ended up spending the night in Toby's room. What had started out as sitting next to him turned into laying down next to him. And after a while of no talking or movement, just the steady sounds of breathing. You more or less closed you eyes for a minute.

Before you knew it you were waking up to sun in your face. And found a blanket haphazardly thrown onto you. Though honestly you probably just moved a lot in your sleep. A quick glance around the room tells you you're alone and by the looks of it have been for a little while now. Weirdly there doesn't seem to be a clock in the room and when you go to check your phone the battery is dead.

'Oh God what time is it?' you worry as you gather yourself to leave the room in search of a clock.

Even though you have the strongest suspicion that you're already late for work. Fuck Nate is gonna kill you. You hope you don't get fired for this. That doesn't really seem like the Cowell way but you really don't want to risk it. No where else in town would pay the bills plus give extra cash for doing jack shit.

Just as you closed the door behind you you see Toby and Connor walking up the corridor. Toby has two bowls in hand and his steps falter a bit when he sees you.

“Shit did I wake you up?”

You can see the veins in his arms as he tenses, poor guy must have a tic coming on. You hold your hands out to give him the option of handing them over so he can relax. With no hesitation on his end he does just that.

“No? I don't think so, I just woke up. What time is it?”

Toby's hands jolt in place. A large tremor of movement, thankfully you took the bowls from him so he wouldn't have splashed...cereal? Your confusion must have shown because you get a nervous laugh in response.

“It's like eight twenty or something.” seeing you visibly deflate he adds, “Barry told me to tell you you're excused from work today.” He took a bowl back from you and placed a hand at the small of your back to push you back towards his room. Apparently done with having a conversation in the hallway and letting your breakfast get soggy.

“Barclay.” you remind him, your efforts award you a shrug, “and are you serious? Because making me late for work wouldn't be very funny.”

He plops on his bed and a bit of milk sloshes out of the bowl dropping on to the sheets. In the back of your mind you think about how Barclay more than likely is going to ban Toby from the lodge for anything other than an emergency. At least if he ruins the bed by dropping food all over it...actually you're pretty sure Jake's mentioned there being a rule about eating in the rooms.

“I'm serious, you can go ask him yourself.” his face flushes as he shovels a spoonful of Captain Crunch into his mouth, “twey shed somfingu bot ah ahpawawgee for da kid”

You give Toby a sneer as you process what he just said. Even normally your brain didn't always process what was said to you properly and Toby speaking with a full mouth certainly didn't help in any case. But you can kind of gleam a bit more context from his red cheeks that your spontaneous three day weekend is thanks in part to Jo hanging out with you yesterday.

Really you didn't mind that she hung out with you. But you would accept the apologetic day off for her attempting to give you a love life. You aren't one of her gossip stories nor do you wish to be.

“First, gross dude. Second, I'll take it.”

He snorts, “Watching me chew through the hole in my face is ne-neat but me talking with my mouth full is where you draw the line?”

“Honestly I never even thought of that.”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at how dumb that must have made you look. Geez you were such a dork sometimes. On the other hand it seems like that must have been the funniest thing Toby's heard in a while as he roars with laughter. Soon your chuckles turn into full blown laughter from Toby's contagious mirth.

“I'll get out of your hair after I finish eating.” you finally say when the two of you calm.

“...you don't have to do that. I-i thought we cou-cou-could hang out?” he says sheepishly.

Toby tends to stutter when he's nervous you notice. Maybe this was to be expected you kind of did solidify that you both wanted to be friends. Of course that would mean opening up to hanging out together on purpose more often.

“I'd like that! Did you have something in mind?”

The room goes quite, well more accurately Toby goes quite as you finish your cereal. Looks like someone hadn't thought this far ahead. At least you aren't the only dork in this room or this friendship for that matter.

Toby's dark eyes scan around the room, not really looking for something while he thinks of something you could do today. Instead of just staring at him like a creep you turn your attention to the rottweiler looking at you with hopeful eyes. Connor's eyes briefly moving towards your bowl where a tiny bit of milk sits and then back at your face. Licking his chops as he looks you dead in the eyes.

Having a pretty good idea of what he wants you look for Toby's bowl. If it was on the ground that'd be a good indication that Connor's allowed a bit of cereal milk if it was on the bed well then you'd still have your answer. And sure enough right next to Connor's butt is an empty bowl.

Yup, Barclay is so gonna ban Toby from the lodge.

Throwing out any thoughts of the lecture you'd get if Barclay were to find out you let a dog eat from his bowls you place the bowl in front of Connor. Who sits in his position and won't stop making eye contact with the bowl. Tail going a mile a minute as he stares at his prize in anticipation. God he really is the best boy in the whole world.

“Thank you Connor.” you whisper to the dog before he attacks the bowl.

As the pup rips into the left over cereal milk, which wasn't even that much, you can't keep yourself from flapping your hands right by your chest. The fast movement seems to catch Toby's attention and brings him out of wracking his brain for ideas. Giving you a moment to just enjoy the happy stim he just watches. It isn't until Connor has bounded over to you letting you pet him as a 'thank you' for giving him a treat, that Toby speaks up.

“Is there...what's there to do here?”

Looking at Toby as you shake Connor's ears around, you don't immediately say anything. Honestly thinking of just what the two of you could do in this small town. Something that wouldn't prove to be too distracting and maybe give the two of you a chance to get to know each other better. Something without too many interruptions or things to get you off topic.

“Wanna go get a slushy?”

Toby's brown eyes cut as he stares at you unimpressed.

“I kno-rrow that we're in a small town but, 's not that small.”

“Oh no it's actually smaller.”

He rolls his eyes with a huff ready to bite in with a snarky remark no doubt until he catches your eyes and the serious expression. He stares at you, eyes darting across your face looking for a sign that you're joking.

Thankfully you aren't one to leave a friend in the dark.

“Tobias, the gas station Tim works at is the only one for this town.”

“That can't be right, it's not even in town. What about...” once again Toby's eyes shift as he tries to think of any other gas stations within Kepler.

When he comes to the conclusion that you are indeed not fucking with him and Kepler does just have the one gas station his shoulders slump. Almost like he's in shock that he hadn't caught that sooner. You can feel the tinkling sensation of a tic coming up, at the base of your neck. Timing it mentally as you watch Toby go through the stages of grief you miscalculate and ruin your tic.

Head jolting into your right shoulder rather than jerking above it. Letting out a small “fuck” at the fact that you're about to be in an uncomfortable sensation, not totally unlike when you chase off a sneeze but still do need to sneeze. You feel the tic at the back of your head but know it won't be going away anytime soon and all thanks to your hubris.

Looking back at Toby you find he's moved on from the single gas station fact and is looking at you mildly amused. Briefly you wonder if he's ever chased off a tic and felt the uncomfortable sensation you're now dealing with. That leads you to ponder if he's ever even felt the anticipation of nerves before a coming tic. It's not really a painful sensation but discomfort sometimes goes in hand with pain so maybe CIPA affects that feeling too. You'll have to ask, but first you have to shut his stupid face up.

“Shut it.”

“Didn't say anything.” he smirks.

His smiles are really growing on you. They feel special and very genuine despite the awkward nature of his facial movements.

“Hey wait, the mini mart doesn't even have a slushy machine.” he says as the realization finally sets in.

“Yea we have to drive to another town for one. So far Franklin has the best slushies but it's like two hours away.”

You lean your weight back onto your hands watching as Toby's wide eyes stare at you in disbelief. Actually in this light you really can't tell if Toby's eyes are blown wide or in their normal state. Judging from the way his lips curl over his teeth you figure they must be as he stares stunned by something you've said.

“Do you seriously drive two hours for a slushy?” the disbelief in his voice is thick, but not thick enough to cover the thinnest hint of amusement. Maybe even pity.

“Not all the time, sometimes its only like thirty. One night I actually drove five hours without realizing it...though to be fair I did get lost.”

Lost in your thoughts on that particular night some how you'd ended up in Point Pleasant. Instead of a slushy you'd gotten a Mothman themed iced coffee. A nice trip over all but one you didn't want to go on at the moment.

Coming back to the present in time to catch Toby flopping back on the mattress his curls bouncing up over his face as he did so. He let's out an exaggerated groan.

“Still, Brian's got the car today.”

Pfft that's not an issue.

“I have a car.” you say plainly.

That must not be the issue because Toby raises himself onto his elbows to look at your lax form on the carpet. Leaning back on your hands with Connor splayed across your lap looking ready for a nap. Toby opens his mouth to say something before shutting it and looking off to the side. He seems to collect himself quickly but not enough to look at you.

“Uh..I, that's not really the...” well maybe he hadn't collected himself that much.

Brow furrowing as you squint at the man before you. The two of you don't know a lot about each other but from what you've noticed Toby has some hang ups about drivers and driving. Although he's let you drive him home once that doesn't mean he was comfortable with it or wanted a repeat performance. And while you don't consider yourself a bad driver you'll spare Toby the difficulty of admitting he isn't comfortable with you driving.

“You can drive.” dark brown eyes are on you the instant the words spill from your lips, “You've driven my car before. Plus I don't mind I like not driving.”

His eyes dart from you to Connor and back up into your face. Even though they're darting slightly you know he isn't such evaluating your expression. He's thinking and weighing his options.

“You sure?”

And with no hesitation at all, “Absolutely, you've driven it before.”

Though he hadn't been thinking of that particular issue with being given the choice of driving your car. It did bring up another insecurity before hastily stomping it into the ground. He has driven your car, albeit once, before and you are giving him explicit consent to drive it again. Regardless of his tourette's, Toby honestly can't believe you have such blind faith in a person you've just befriended. Then again that's friendship isn't it.

“Ok then...let's go?”

After a nod from you Toby grabs Connor's gear to get him ready for the drive. Meanwhile you take the dishes back downstairs to the kitchen, letting Toby know you'd meet him by the door. Unsurprisingly Barclay is in the kitchen when you get down there to place the bowls into the sink.

Seeing as it's just the bowls and spoons in the sink you decide you can wash them before placing them in the sanitizer rack.

“Mornin'.”

“Good morning.”

“Basket's on the table.”

“Thanks.”

A quiet settles over you two and you can feel Barclay's brown eyes trail towards your form every few seconds. Finishing the dishes you turn, leaning your butt onto the counter, to face the lumbering man.

“Can I help you?” you raise a brow at him. Clearly he had something more he wanted to say.

“I, I just thought we were closer than that.” he sighs.

Okay what now? Your confusion goes ignored as he continues to speak.

“Seriously YN, you didn't need to sneak away last night if you wanted to spend the night here, and with your boyfriend. I wouldn't have judged.”

“My who? Tobais? He's a friend!” you whisper scream in case Toby is near by. God could at least save one of you this embarrassment.

“Really YN? From the things I'm hearin' you two are a bit more than friends.”

“Ok seriously where are you getting your info from? We haven't done anything. Like just YESTERDAY we agreed we were friends. We've known each other maybe a month?!”

“See that's why this is confusing, you don't touch just anyone. And suddenly you're handsy with some new kid.” Barclay had the decency to start whisper screaming with you. He's gesturing vaguely towards the rest of the lodge before bringing his hands before him and flailing them away. As if to say 'what am I supposed to do with this now?'

“He's neurodivergent!” you say bringing your palms up in front of you.

“So are Jake and Aubrey.”

“And I high five Jake so much.” throwing your arms outward to indicate how much you two high five. “Plus he gets a hug nearly every time I see him.” hands brought back to emphasis this point.

Barclay thinks on that for a bit, “Point taken,” he stands from his hunched position and crosses his arms over his chest, “so y'all aren't dating? Nothin' happened last night?”

“No and no.”

“Don't have to deep clean the sheets today.”

“Gross and no.” best keep the milk droplets out of this, you'd really like to leave the kitchen sooner rather than later. Preferably with no lecture about hygiene and the importance of respecting other's property.

Barclay looks down at you scanning your face for something you aren't quite sure of. But you have a feeling he's treating you like a child for a very specific reason.

“I'm not a virgin.” you deadpan as the man before starts to sputter.

His eyes wide with disbelief. So he really thought you were a virgin this whole time? You wonder who else thought this, you hoped they wouldn't try to confront you about your nonexistent relationship.

You'll just never understand why people assume you're a virgin and why they try their hardest to butt into your life when they think that way. This topic tends to put you in a sour mood and you can already feel it on your face. It's disgusting how people can't mind their business about baseless assumptions.

“Jeez sorry YN,” he does look it as he rubs the back of his neck, “it's just you've never shown an interest and I guess we all got swept up in the possibility of seeing you happy.”

“I am happy?”

“I mean in a relationship, happy in a romantic relationship.” He claps his hands gently on your shoulders. A touch you've gotten used too, had you not wanted it you would've taken a step back.

“Kirby's not in a relationship.” you point out.

“Kirby's gross, and you're adorable.” he chuckles at your glare, “a-dor-a-ble.”

“I will bite you.” he lets go of you with a laugh.

“We're just...trying to keep you safe.” he sighs, and though you don't understand what any of their weirdness has to do with “keeping you safe” you nod. Just to get this over with faster.

“Can I leave now? Tobais and I were gonna get slushies.” he didn't need to know your plans but you didn't want him assuming you two were sneaking off for a date.

“Yea yea, sorry for keeping you.” he leans against the counter as you grab your basket and head out of the kitchen and towards the main door.

Toby and Connor were already waiting for you. If the swaying of his weight was anything to go by they'd been waiting for you for a bit. Seeing you coming his subconscious movement stops and he opens the door. Keeping it open for you. You lead him over to your Soul as you look through the basket for the keys.

“Keys?” he questions as you pat your pockets.

Toby stops walking with you as you begin to panic. You've lost your keys. Before you voice that though you look through the basket once more, placing it on the hood of your car so you can use both hands to check. His eyes follow you and are caught by a gentle swaying.

“You are a serial killer's wet dream.”

He opens your passenger side door and comes out holding your keys that had been in the ignition. If the blank look he gives you is anything to go by he's not impressed.

“I,I,I was in a hurry!” you say flustered that you did something so stupid. His expression doesn't change.

“Could you pop the trunk please?” you ask not looking in his direction.

The click of the lock is all you need to hear before you rush around him to place the basket in the back. As you do you catch sight of the deer skull still in your trunk. With everything going on you hadn't been to see Madeleine for a mount for the guy. You'll have to remember to stop by her shop this week.

Toby had already gotten Connor situated in the back by the time you sat down in the passengers seat. After buckling in and plugging your phone in to charge you stare ahead of you waiting for Toby to start driving. When you look over at him you see he's staring right back at you with a brow raised.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

Yes the key detail of any road trip, the driver needs to know the destination. Unfortunately for you and Toby you've forgotten to tell him one crucial detail. You drive with no sense of direction. And you relay this to Toby. He looks seconds away from getting out of the car and claiming he's never seen you before much less ever been friends with you.

He takes a deep breath and collects himself.

“Y'know what Brian's worse with directions.” he says more to himself than to you.

He calmly puts the car in gear and heads off to town. No input from Connor, you may have chosen a really good day for this drive. Your phone hits one percent as you pass Resort Row. You know the Hornet's Nest is coming up and that intersection leads to the interstate despite not having legible signs.

“Hey when you get to the Hornet's Nest swing right then drive straight, we'll end up on route 3 onto the interstate.”

“Hornets' nest?”

“It's a skate/stunt park. You'll see it after we get away from the mountain.”

Just as you said Toby saw the Hornet's Nest as he turned onto the road leaving the mountain. By the time you were on route 3 your phone had charged up to seven percent. Enough to turn it on and put on a playlist. You put on one of your sea shanty and folk punk combos.

Toby hasn't even let the song get thirty seconds under way. “No vetoed, we are not listening to sea shanties.”

So he does have music preferences, fair enough. You switch to a playlist with a more chilled electric vibe that has a few oldies tossed into the mix. Toby hasn't heard this playlist before and you are determined to learn his music tastes today.

“Wait wait wait, so you'll listen to folk punk but not sea shanties?”

“How are those even related?”

“They are literally the same thing.”

The two of you continue to bicker back and forth about how similar, or different, shanties and folk punk are. Occasionally it's broken when you read a sign, noticing Toby's horrible squinting, to see if you're on the right route to...well you don't know the destination Toby's been ignoring most of the exits for the past forty minutes though you're sure you two could find a gas station with a slushy machine at any one of the surrounding towns.

You don't mind though you're really enjoying the ride. The soft sounds of the car cutting through the wind at seventy three miles an hour. And the dull hum from the engine falling into the background as They Might Be Giants plays softly through the radio. With a majority of his focus being directed to the road and the handful of other cars around you, your conversation is limited to topics that don't require much thinking. Really you've just ended up playing twenty questions with the other pulling uno reverse.

Not life altering secrets or deep talks...well until the question was favorite romantic comedy.

“How is Venom a romantic comedy?” Toby laughs after you answer.

“They kiss!” Toby just snorts.

“No Venom in Anne's body kisses Eddie.”

“Yes Venom kissed Eddie. Romance.”

You hear the murmur of 'oh my fucking God' come from Toby as you giggle in your seat. Having been egged on by that simple phrase you continue.

“Eddie is always giving Venom chocolates.”

“Oh yes, sorry, that's very romance.” Toby laughs out rolling his eyes.

“Thank you, I'm glad I could enlighten...” you pause as a sign for the next exit catches your eye. Had you two already driven two hours? Time really does fly when you're having fun. “Hey next exit, Franklin.”

“Thanks got it.” this time he turns on the blinker to get over into the exiting lane.

“What gas station am I looking for?” smart man. He's stopped asking for specific directions and is now asking for a land marker.

“Giant baby.” the car comes to a stop at a red light and Toby takes his eyes off the road to face you.

“...is this...will I just know when I see it.” “When you see it” you say the last part in unison with him nodding solemnly.

To his credit Toby has gone a long way with your weird antics, despite being your official friend for less than a full day. Keeping up with this pattern he doesn't ask anymore questions about this giant baby, keeping his eyes peeled for anything worthy of that title. His valent efforts are rewarded not even ten blocks from the turnpike.

“Is that...”

“Giant baby.” you nod knowing he sees the giant opposum decal in the window of the beat up gas station.

Opening your glove box you remove a spare mask for yourself before offering a sealed in package one for Toby. Who readily takes it after he parks your car in front of the store. Turning to look at you, you can read all the skepticism on his face. It's funny how this is where he questions you, your destination and not like the way over here-or the moment right after you told him you had no sense of direction.

“They have the four divide mega slush.”

“What the hell is that?”

With a coy smile you put on your mask and exit the car waiting at the front for your friend to get his shit together. He doesn't take long to follow you, Connor's lead in hand, into the gas station.

For as dingy and beat up as it looks on the outside it isn't bad once you step inside. Might actually be cleaner than the mini mart in Kelper. Toby glances around taking a mental tally of all the patrons in the store and their positions. He does this a bit. Just hyper aware of everyone when in enclosed spaces.

Dragging him over to the slushy machine after acknowledging the cashier's greeting. Showing him the four divider mega slush cup you demonstrate how it works. Choosing the only three flavors you like and adding a random extra of the three into the forth slot.

The face he makes when you stick the straw in the middle is priceless.

Toby demonstrates how a slushy should be made. Grabbing the single cup and over filling it with cherry flavored ice. He doesn't pick up a straw and you two make your way to the counter.

Since Toby drove here you had no problem paying but he was quicker to get his wallet out and hand the cashier a ten for your slushies. They give him back his change and you two wind up back in the car, taking off your masks.

You take a long sip from you drink.

“I can't believe we drove for two hours for you to just wreck your taste buds.” a playful disdain in his voice.

“Not 'we', you.”

He cuts his eyes at you before shaking his slushy into his open mouth. Guess he couldn't use a straw when he was missing part of his cheek. No suction there.

“So?” you say adding the questioning lilt to your voice.

He shrugs, “It's good.”

“Worth the drive?” He shakes his head.

“Nah - drive made it worth it.”

#Timothy Wright #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #tobias erin rogers #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #creepypasta fanfic #a cure for insomnia #masky x reader

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wizard-of-ozzy · 4 years

Text

angst to fluff prompt: The bruises have always been there, he’s just learnt to hide them. (courtesy of @ladyedwina)

As Draco ascended the spiral stairs that led up to the astronomy tower, he misjudged his step and walked into the side of a marble pillar to his right. “Yet another bruise to add to my growing collection.” He mumbled under his breath; despite no one being around to hear him.

Draco had been taught his whole life to not make any unnecessary sound. Footsteps, breathing and any type of movement were all supposed to be silent. No one was to be aware of his presence at the manor unless he was called upon, lest he somehow mess things up for his father and, by extension, the Malfoy name. That was just one of the small things he had been taught as a child that, once he arrived at Hogwarts and saw how everyone else was, kept coming back to him. How many things had he grown up with that were expected from him that weren’t the norm? Was his childhood really as bad as it seemed to be, compared to those of his classmates? Tonight he ignored what his parents had trained him to do, he heard his footsteps echo around him and fall into his head each step he took. He heard the rustling of his clothes as he moved his arms to propel him further, and the ragged breaths of exhaustion leaving his lips. He desperately needed a break to catch his breath and rest for a few seconds but he wouldn’t allow it; if Draco stopped, he knew he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t get to where he needed to, would just turn back. It had to be tonight. But maybe he was being loud for a reason, he might actually want someone to hear him. There was no room in his mind for such thoughts, not after he had come up with the plan, if he did it tonight, it would seem like the events of the impending day were the cause, not the stupid little things that stuck, gradually wearing him down. If anything, tomorrow would be a relief; it was his father’s trial, people would expect him to be emotionally vulnerable now and they’d come to their own conclusion based upon it. As his thoughts continued to wander over to his father’s trial, he couldn’t help but question what Lucius would do or say if he knew what his son was about to do. He’d most likely sneer at Draco icily and tut at him before saying, “I never thought you were worthy of the family you were born into, your name and everything it has given you. You disgrace me and I will disown you if you try to do this, just think about what people will say if word gets out that you did this. You would make Malfoys look weak.” Draco shuddered at the mere thought of his father’s cruel, cold tone; only now realising how much of a negative influence he’d had on him.

Draco’s mind then wandered to the Golden Boy himself and thought that if Potter was in Draco’s position, he’s sure that whatever family he lived with would do all that they could to stop him. They’d remind him how much they loved him and get him help and say how much he was worth and that he can always come to them if he needed anything, that they were always there for him no matter what. If only Draco had had the same love and kindness towards him as Harry no doubt had. As if on cue, he rounded the corner and found himself met with emerald green eyes and a very startled gasp.

{.X.}

Harry was just taking off his invisibility cloak, feeling the fresh air hit the skin of his half exposed arms as he looked forward and saw the unmistakable glint of Draco Malfoy’s steely grey eyes falling onto him. A gasp escaped his lips before he could register it. Why was Malfoy up at the top of the astronomy tower at 2:30 in the morning?

His mind was racing with thoughts and theories as to why Malfoy was up here, so much so that he didn’t realise the fact that he hadn’t stopped staring at Malfoy. Harry was only taken out of his stupor when he heard Draco mutter to himself under his breath, “Well that’s thrown a spanner in the works.”

“Hm?” Harry spoke, not meaning to. “Don’t bother Potter, I’m not here to cause any conflict, I just had something to do.” “Oh, I didn't think you were here to do anything to me, you just caught me by surprise. If I said something, no I didn’t. Anyway, what did you have to do in the astronomy tower... at half two... in the morning?” “It doesn’t matter, nothing important but it had to be tonight.” Draco answered, unsure as to why he was speaking honestly, if a little cryptic.

“Why tonight?.” Harry asked, unable to hold back his curiosity

“Because tonight makes sense, if I do it at any other time, people will think I’m weak.” Getting anxious now, Harry replied, “Do you mind telling me what ‘It’ is?” “Erm… oh, Merlin why not? It’s not as if you of all people would care,” Draco laughed humorlessly, “I plan on- um, on-” he couldn’t finish the sentence, it was too painful to admit what he was about to do; even to his arch-enemy. Although, come to think of it, Draco hadn’t thought of Harry as an arch-enemy for over a year now and in actuality, he didn’t think he ever had. Not really anyway.

Harry didn’t need Draco to finish his sentence in order to know what the pointy blonde was about to say. He wasn’t the most observant person in the world, not by a long shot but it didn’t take a genius to pick up on what was going through Malfoy’s mind, all he had to do was read the situation; Draco was up at the astronomy tower in the middle of the night, he was expecting to be alone and it needed to be done tonight, the night before Lucius Malfoy’s trial.

Without thinking, Harry shucked the rest of his cloak off his shoulder, stepped forward and pulled the Slytherin into his arms, holding tight. He felt Draco still for a few seconds before melting into the embrace and letting his weight be held up by Harry.

{.X.}

Draco wasn’t expecting Harry to put his arms around him but once he’d done it, Draco found himself burying is head in the crook of the other boy’s neck, a gut-wrenching sob tearing through him as Harry stood there and let his emotions pour out, whispering comforting things in his ears, “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m here.”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe.”

“I’m here.”

“Let it all out.”

“I’m here.”

Draco removed himself from Harry’s embrace with a wet sniff and found himself unable to meet Harry’s eyes. “Hey.” he heard Harry say softly to get his attention; looking up, Draco replied, barely above a whisper in a raspy tone, throat dry from his crying, “Hello.”

“Are you okay?” Harry said cautiously

“Yes, I’m feeling delightful, thank you for asking.” He replied without a trace of malice in his voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s okay.” Harry said as he grasped Draco’s wrist between his fingers and pulled him down to the dusty stone floor to sit next to him. Draco complied and let himself be led to the ground by The Boy Who Lived - twice.

The two boys sat in a comfortable silence before Harry broke it by saying, “Please don’t do it.” “Do what?” Draco replied, confused for a second before remembering his intentions that night, “...Oh, that.”

“Yeah, That.”

“Why shouldn’t I though? It’s not like anyone would miss me, I’m just a snarky pureblood that no one likes; and for good reason. I mean, I was a bully, Merlin I treated Granger like utter shite and Weasley too as well as you, Longbottom, Lovegood, Weaslette, the list goes on.”

“You did and I’m not going to deny that because some things you said bloody hurt but now that everyone knows you didn’t really mean it, that you were just saying those things to protect yourself and that the mark was forced upon you, I think most people have pretty much forgiven you. You haven’t done anything mean or disrespectful since the war and everyone did stuff they weren’t proud of in order to survive; you just had to do that from an earlier age.”

“Yeah.” Draco replied, unable to say anything else and surprised at how quickly Harry had cottoned on. He felt understood for the first time in years. He felt like Harry knew this had been a long time coming, that Draco was just waiting for a valid excuse, the words repeating themselves in his head in Harry’s soft voice, ‘you just had to do that from an earlier age.’.

As Draco mulled over what the raven-haired boy had said, his words started to resonate as he thought back and realised that almost nobody had done so much as look stonily at Draco since he’d been back at Hogwarts. Maybe some of what Harry said had been true, of course that didn’t change how he’d been feeling in the first place but it definitely shed some light on him. He continued to sit and think until he was reminded of Potter’s presence by a rather violent sneeze that came from the left of him.

One look at Harry’s face made him realise that, while the hurt was still there, he no longer felt obligated to do it tonight. Instead, he would go to his father’s trial, talk to his mother some and ask if she knew if her Mind Healer had any space for him or knew someone that did but in the meantime, “I don’t want to be alone, please stay with me.” he spoke in a rush, scared that the sound of movement after Harry’s sneeze was him leaving.

“I’m not, don’t worry, I was just getting a tissue although we do need to move at some point, it’s..” he cast a tempus charm and read the numbers aloud, “Oh wow, it’s half three and we need to sleep.” “We do but I still don’t want to be alone, I don’t think I can be, not tonight.”

“That’s okay, we can go to either Gryffindor or Slytherin, whichever you prefer.” Harry replied, seemingly unfazed at the notion of sleeping in the same bed as Draco.

“Slytherin.” Draco said instantaneously, “it’s a longer walk and I still need a bit of time to clear my head before going to sleep.”

“That’s completely fine with me. Do you need help getting up?” He groaned as he stood, ankles clicking from the sudden movement.

“Erm, yeah, that’d- that’d be good thanks.” Draco spoke as Harry took his hand and pulled him to his feet, not letting go as he started to pull them towards the stone steps, instead squeezing Draco’s hand and settling once more into the comfortable silence.

{.X.}

Harry resolved to keep hold of Draco’s hand until they reached the Slytherin portrait because he knew how much better human contact could make a bad situation feel. That and it just felt right, their hands fit perfectly together; Draco’s hand was cooler than his but not so much that it was cold to the touch, it was just the right temperature and took from the heat of his hand nicely.

As the portrait let them through, into the Slytherin common room, Harry was taking in the new surroundings and didn’t notice something peculiar on one of the leather green sofas just outside his line of vision until he heard Draco grumbling and followed his gaze to see Pansy Parkinson’s dead-weighted body sprawled over the antique furniture. She had very clearly passed out, drunk. Thankfully, someone had disposed of the empty bottles that had left slightly darkened rings on the coffee table in front of the sofa and replaced them with a hangover potion. Harry looked on in surprise, trying to remind himself that the stigma of Slytherins being heartless is completely untrue.

In Slytherin, there were many winding corridors to go down in order to reach the dorms, each hallway was filled with mirrors, paintings and various tapestries, placed in such a way to bring a homely feel to an otherwise quite grim walk to the dorms.

Once they had reached the dorms, Harry looked around nervously, seeing if there was anybody awake in there. When he saw that everyone else in the room either had the curtains of their bed drawn or were splayed out on their mattress, Harry let out a small sigh of relief before realising that he hadn’t anything to sleep in or any of his belongings, other than his wand and cloak. He’d just have to either borrow something of Draco’s or sleep in his boxers. Without sparing a second thought, he cleared his throat and decided to ask the blonde, “Sorry if this is a pain but would I be able to borrow something to sleep in? I didn’t think I’d be coming here tonight, obviously, and I’m still just in my clothes.”

“Oh, yeah of course,” Draco replied, rummaging through his clothes trying to find something spare for Harry to wear, “Here you are, I only have T-shirts, I hope that’s okay.”

“Yep, a T-shirt is perfectly fine, thank you.” Harry replied, sincerely

“No problem,” He said, handing Harry the crinkled T-shirt, “I have a favour to ask you…”

“Oh?”

“Do you think you’d be able to come with me to my father’s trial tomorrow, it’s just that I was going to go with Pansy but obviously she’s out of the question now as she’ll have the hangover of a lifetime tomorrow and I would ask Blaise but he’s seeing his mum tomorrow and I don’t know who else would be able to go that I’d be comfortable having there and obviously it’s completely up to you but I really don’t want to be alone.” Draco spoke in a rush, leaving himself breathless once he had finished speaking.

“I’d have to let Ron and Hermione know where I was going in the morning but I’d happily go with you to your father’s trial, it’s no problem. We should probably sleep now, how early do we have to be up?”

“We need to get to the Ministry for eight and into Hogsmeade to Apparate at half seven so maybe half six?”

“Oh wonderful, a full three hours of sleep!” Harry replied, voice dripping in sarcasm

“Yeah, sorry about that but thank you for coming, really I don’t know if I’d still be here if you hadn’t.”

“You’d do it for me.” Harry said softly

{.X.}

The two boys got into the blanketed king-sized bed without a word once they’d got changed. After a few seconds of laying down, Draco’s mind started to run a mile a minute and he tried to choke back a sob but instead made a cat-like gurgling noise that came up the back of his throat. He rolled over to his side, forgetting that Harry was there and was once again enveloped in strong, muscular arms; tighter this time, with more meaning.

Their legs slotted together under the covers as Draco continued to get hugged by Harry and was pulled closer. Harry’s hand was now tangled in his hair and Harry placed a kiss on top of Draco’s head, so light he almost didn’t feel it, leaning into the warmth of the other boys arms, he felt the tears that had been threatening to fall from his eyes subside and started to drift off to sleep.

Draco opened his eyes and found his face nestled in a mess of black curls and dark skin. That was the happiest he had felt in a long time, he felt warm and tingly inside when Harry squeezed him more as he was stirring himself. When Harry awoke, he stretched and then retracted his legs, entwining them more; shifting slightly, Harry repositioned himself and settled in a more comfortable place before lifting his head and placing another feather-light kiss atop Draco’s soft, fair hair. “You okay?” Harry asked, his voice scratchy after having slept

“Not really,” Draco mumbled into Harry’s hair, “but I’ll be fine with you there.” he continued.

“I’m glad, I’ll stay with you for as long as you want me to, whatever you need, just say it and I’ll do it.”

“Thank you. Can we just stay here a bit longer? We don’t need to be in Hogsmeade for another hour and it only takes ten minutes to get there.”

“Of course we can.” Harry spoke quietly, burying his face in the crook of Draco’s neck and taking in the blonde’s scent of citrus fruit and pine wood.

They laid in each other’s arms for a further eight minutes before they heard movement coming from one of the other beds in the dorm, to the left of them. “Blaise,” Draco breathed in Harry’s ear, “he wakes up at this time every day, showers for seven minutes, gets dressed in three and brushes his teeth. We have twelve minutes to get dressed and start making our way to the Great Hall for some breakfast.” “That’s fine, oh shit. I don’t have anything to wear to court!”

“You don’t have any shirts up in Gryffindor? Slacks? Loafers? Oh maybe a jacket too.”

“I have a shirt, it’s too small but I can just use engorgio. As for the rest, nothing except loafers.”

“That’s fine I have spares that you can borrow.”

“Oh great, sorry for not having anything though.” he said, despite being delightfully happy at the thought of wearing Draco’s clothing once more.

“What colour and tone is the shirt and the loafers?”

“Erm, light blue and black?”

“Great, I’ve got a light grey jacket and black slacks, now you just need to run all the way to Gryffindor, I’ll give you the slacks now because I doubt you’ll be back here within, ten minutes now so your jacket and I will be waiting at the Ravenclaw table.”

“Okay, see you there then- wait? Ravenclaw?”

“Ravenclaw. Now go!” Draco half-shouted, getting slightly stressed as they were losing time

“Right, sorry.” Harry said, pulling Draco into a brief embrace before making a hasty exit.

{.X.}

It took Harry seven minutes to get up the Gryffindor tower and into his dorm room. He tried to get dressed quickly and quietly so’s not to waste time or wake up anyone else. He failed. The sounds of thumping coming from Harry in the centre of the room woke up Ron and when he opened his curtains, he stared dumbly at his best friend’s fumbling figure as he wrestled with a blue shirt. “You alright there, mate?” he yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Hearing the familiar sound of Ron’s voice startled him and when he tried to put his foot down onto the ground again to stabilise himself, he stubbed his toe on the foot of his bed and fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

“Argh, yeah Ron, I’m wonderful cheers for asking.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I was only asking! Anyway, what are you doing and why are you holding your old shirt?”

“I’m holding it because I just Engorgio-ed it so I could wear it today because I’ll be accompanying Draco to his dad’s trial, don’t ask. It’s a long story and kind of personal. Oh also, I almost definitely have a thing for him, no I will not be accepting questions.” He said as he finished buttoning the shirt from his heap on the ground, threw on the slacks, stepped into the loafers and made his second hasty exit of the day, leaving Ron gobsmacked in the dorm.

Harry walked back down to the Great Hall and saw Draco over at the end of the Ravenclaw table, alone and made his way to him, where he was buttering some toast, the grey jacket draped on the chair to his right. Sitting down, Harry nodded at Draco, before settling into a comfortable silence as they ate their food.

{.X.}

Once they had finished eating their breakfast, Harry and Draco left the Great Hall, went through the Entrance Hall and descended the stone steps that led out of the castle. As the two boys left the Hogwarts grounds and made their way into Hogsmeade and Apparated, they had their fingers interlocked, only letting go of each other when they stepped out of the lift in the ministry. Their hands found their way back to one another as they trudged slowly, unwillingly down the dark, damp hallway beneath the Ministry of Magic, shivering as they passed an open window.

As they took their seats in the spectators stand, overlooking courtroom 4, Harry took Draco's hand once more when he saw his face contort in pain as he laid eyes on his father and said, almost inaudibly into his ear, "I'm here." Draco was going to be okay.

#tw implied suicidal thoughts #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #harry x draco #draco X harry #drarry #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #fanfiction #angst to fluff #angst #fluff

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scenariosofkonoha · 5 years

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Hi! Could i get HC for kakashi falling for his s/o? Like, dealing with the whole “im scared to get close to you but im definitely feeling something” also how long it would take before he would ask her out? How would he do it? How would people find out and react to him having a girlfriend? Non-shinobi s/o please! Thanks and ily!!

Hello again colors! I’m really happy you came back with another ask. So…I’m not 100% with this one. I hope I answered it correctly and hope you like it! * nervous finger taps* ~ Admin Little Lace 🎀

“You’re distracted,” she said after taking a sip of her tea. Looking over to his dazed look, she placed her cup down on the windowsill. Moving slowly enough to not startled him, she touched his hand. The feel of her skin on his broke him out of his thoughts, his uncovered eye blinking toward her. “Welcome back,” she joked smiling. “What has you thinking so hard?”

‘That I’m in love with you but that’s probably not a good idea.’ he thought, “Oh nothing,” he answered.

Kakashi Hatake is not one for love at first sight. One cannot simply fall in love with someone they had never spoken to. It had nothing to do with beauty, lots of people were beautiful. It had nothing to do with kindness, though honestly rare nowadays. It didn’t even have anything to do with conversational skills.

No, if the Copy-nin was going to fall in love with anyone it would not happen that quickly or superficially.

This was why falling in love with her had taken him by surprise. When he had met her, he had not believed he would feel anything for her. The girl that was walking out in the middle of a rainstorm as if the drops hadn’t bothered her at all.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” he said from underneath the awning. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to tell her this. She looked old enough to know better.He also wasn’t sure if he was expecting her to reply to him. But when he felt a presence from behind his book, he closed in to look at her. Hair soaking wet and kimono clinging to her. But she wasn’t looking at him, her eyes were trained to the book. “Hm.” She answered before turning her back to him. As if feeling his question gaze, she answered.“Perverts shouldn’t tell others what to do,” with that she marched off leaving him a little stunned.

She was a strange girl. Maybe that is why he fell in love with her? He had seen her a few times throughout the Leaf. Her family owned a textile shop. The girl would often be out for deliveries, cheerfully handing off parcels to civilians and shinobi alike. When he saw her again, she was not as cheerful.

“Achoo!” her body convulsed as she sneezed. Her steps a bit staggered as she entered the shop.“Hm.” he retorted standing in the door way. The ‘holier than thou’ look she had once given him, didn’t have the same effect with a dripping nose.“Coming to say I-” her sentence staggered by a sniffle, “told you so?” Wordlessly, he walked up to her and, as if by magic, produced a handkerchief. “Perverts shouldn’t tell others what to do,”he parroted, handing her the cloth. The pale-haired man had expected her to blush, look at least some what abashed. But the challenge in her eye did something to him.

That had been the look for him to keep his distance. The sign that he should get no closer. Like a snake’s rattle or bright colors on a poisonous animal. Attachments did not bode well for him in the past, surely he didn’t want to engage in any now.

You see, he continued to tell himself that. Honestly, not wanting to go anywhere near her, lest he have that feeling again. But it was awfully hard to keep to this self-rule when his work commute now just so happened to pass by her family’s shop. Near every day on his way to the ANBU building, he saw her. The open front window giving both a view of one another. Near everyday he would give her a pleasant look, and near everyday it was returned with a roll of her eyes and a reluctant smile.

Kakashi could concede such a little interaction, if was just a look it wasn’t so bad. That is until he received his handkerchief back. The white cloth folded in with the repaired ANBU uniforms. Being a shinobi taught him not to believe in coincidences, so it had to be her. His thoughts were confirmed when in the corner there was a little Henohenomoheji embroidered into it.

He could have left it there, he really could have. There was no need to see her to confirm anything further. But he had gone against his self rule and went to see her any way.

“You know my name but I don’t know yours,” he said one evening. She gave her little challenging smile.

From that point on he had stopped into see her. Short visits, or helping her by bringing in the repaired ANBU uniforms. They spoke, the conversations growing in length with each visit. Each as snarky as the last

“And how do you think they get repaired Kakashi? And if you say repair no jutsu I swear.” His hidden smile, as if daring himself to say it, only served to irritate her more. Point 1 for him.

His evening visits grew to her offering him tea.

“I can give you a straw to shove up your mask.” Point 1 for her.

She had slowly became a fixture in his life, a greeting in the morning, a cup of tea in the evening. When he went away, she was the first person he told, when he returned, she was the first to know. The ninken had even gotten to know her. How close they had gotten, he hadn’t known until she had made them clothes.

“Aren’t they the best?” she asked holding up Pakkun to show off her work. Kakashi was a little shocked to see the smallest of his pack dressed in little blue sweater, his name stitched into the back. The ninja dog’s usually grumpy face soften a bit. A shrug of his tiny shoulders told his partner ‘this wasn’t so bad’.

But all of these moments shared with her had culminated into the feelings he had as he looked at her now. All these months later, as they sat on the window seat in her home above the shop, he fallen in love with her. The thing he had tried hard to avoid. That is to say, falling in love with her wasn’t bad, he had to admit it was the most freeing feeling he had had in a long time.

No, it was the attachment he had work to steer clear off…or so he thought. He was already too close to her. At this point, he had just given in.

“We should get Ichiraku,” he suggested shrugging. The girl looked up from her mending raising a brow.“Oh, and how do you intend to eat that?” her expression giving the challenge he loved.“Come with me and I’ll show you.”

This was how the elite shinobi asked her out. Much like everything else they did, it was challenge. Much like the challenge of her watching him in hopes to see him remove his mask to eat. He had successfully avoided her seeing him this way, and enjoyed her pout each time she missed her chance. It led to him asking her out many more times.

Now she isn’t stupid, she’s noticing the trend but she doesn’t say anything. Through all the laughing, joking and sassy comments, she knows he is still healing. She’s heard the stories that the village gossips share. The seamstress is just allowing him to tell to her in his own time. Because of this it is no surprise how he makes things official.

“Welcome home,” “Good to be home,” they customarily greeted one another as she closed up the shop for the evening.“You look tired,” he rested his head against the door frame. A sigh agreeing to her statement.“Captain, if you think I’m going to do your paper work again you-” both heads turned to see a brown haired shinobi join them. The man stopped in his tracks as the girl came into view from behind his captain. “Oh,” Tenzo, never seeing his fellow ANBU with a woman, wasn’t sure how to process the information. “Hello,”“Hi,” she responded amused at the man’s experience.“Sorry about that Tenzo,” the man’s captain shrugged not looking sorry at all. “I was just about to take my girlfriend out to dinner, you don’t mind taking care of it do you?” he’s smooth tone followed his gestures as he took her hand and walked her down the street.“Nice meeting you!” She called to the confused looking man. She then turned her scrutiny to her companion. “girlfriend huh?”Kakashi gave another shrug. “Why not?” “I would have liked to be asked.”“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”“I’ll think about it,”

From that point on he just assumes she has accepts they are together and moves on. Poor Tenzo doesn’t know what to say. Not sure if he was playing a joke or if his commanding officer was serious. Because of this he doesn’t tell anyone. He genuinely doesn’t want to be the butt of some joke.

His vice-captains turmoil aside, his other friends are aware of her but aren’t sure what to call the girl the once isolated shinobi spends his time with. Asuma and Kurenai have a feeling but since their former classmate isn’t saying heads or tails, a running bet starts between them.

Gai is oblivious. He has seen the girl more than once. (he and his father got those green suits from somewhere…) But not at the same time as Kakashi and if he has he acknowledges the girl before putting all his attention to his rival. The man never putting two and two together.

Just like everything else in their relationship, being public takes time. It doesn’t really matter to him as most of his life is private anyway. With the added fact that she isn’t pushing him, he will keep it this way forever. Or so he thought. Naruto is the one that finds out.

“Who are you?” he asks squatting on her shop counter squinting at her.“Annoyed, and you?” While the boy goes through spiel about how he is Naruto Uzumaki and how he is going to be Hokage Kakashi walks through the door.“I’m-” he stops seeing the boy, who is now standing and yelling believe it. Her face gives him two options, either he can grab the child or suffer the consequences. The man returns her challenging look, before trying to back out of the door. Challenge accepted.“Welcome home my darling!”

2.5 seconds. 2.5 seconds is how long it takes the whisker-marked child to run out of the store yelling for the rest of team to tell them Kakashi-sensei is married. Thus alerting the who village of this as well.

“You should tell him,” his partner said that night as they had tea in the home they now shared home.“It’s best we don’t make him a liar.”“Is that a proposal?”“Possibly.”“Then I possibly accept.”

As the news spreads, thanks to Naruto’s loud voice, the response is generally positive. While team 7 goes out on higher ranked missions, she receives visits from his friends. Each other them well wishing, and gently threaten some sort of harm if she hurts him.

Except for Gai, that man cries while he hugs her, proceeding to say how wonderful she is and she should take care of his rival. Trying hard not to find his enthusiasm amusing, she just pats his back. The exuberant Jonin is her favorite.

With all these visits, she never tells Kakashi. It is a little bit of a circus but she strives to make him more comfortable with most of the village knowing his business.

Not that the village knowing changes very much. They still act the same around each other. Save for now she has his team meet in the shop, therefore the man has no excuse for being late for missions. At this little move, he changes all the labels around in her sewing room.

For years to come the challenge and try one another, being the same people they were when they met in the rain.

“What has you thinking so hard?” she had asked him again, the question familiar as they shared tea in the Hokage’s office. This time he gave her an answer.

“I love you,” Kakashi said, his admission getting his wife to smile.

“I know,”

“You can at least say it back.”

“Perverts shouldn’t tell others what to do,” she smirked as she peered at him over a volume of Icha Icha Paradise. He gave a long suffering sigh. “I love you too husband.” her soft admission brought a smile to his mask-less face.

#ask #hatake kakashi #Kakashi Hatake #Kakashi #kakashi headcanon #kakashi scenario #naruto headcanon #naruto scenarios #naruto imagines #admin Little Lace #naruto

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altyahoo · 4 years

Text

Sexy DnD test-rp

Over on discord I am playing a hombrew dnd game that includes sex and nsfw stuff that have skills attached to them as well as standard DnD skills.

My character is a Kobold rouge named Jib Onslow. He is renowned theif with a particular interest in panty raids. He also is unusually well endowed for a Kobold.

Currently, the discord group is testing the homebrew to make sure it is working correctly. Below the cut is the test "adventure".

DM: The Night had set quietly on this inn on the road. Many travelers journeyed from place to place would stay at this inn when It was time they needed rest. Their horses at the Back area in the stables, which made walls around the inner yard of the inn. The main Building was made up of three floors, quite a lovely building with dark colored wood and green tiles on the roof. Our protagonist finds themselves inside on the first floor, which is both a bar and an eating hall. There are few Travelers sitting around and the Innkeeper is busy at his desk with his ledgers.

Me: Kib is sitting on tall stool, drinking a half pint some decent ale. His pointy ears flick in different directions, habit from being a thief.

DM: The Not-Dragon Kobold seems to not be attracting much attention from the people around him. The Buxom Waitress thaat have been serving all the other patrons finally approaches him. Her brown long hair tied in a bun and her big lips looking oh so plumb just like her tits pressed up by her clothes. "So what can I get you tonight?" she asked with a dull tone.

Me: Kib turns turn her, his ear pointing so that she is the center of attention. His emerald green not-dragon eyes looking at her. His buzzed little mind affecting his perception of the waitress making her look more attractive than how she feeling. " ah lass, might need another glass of dis ale you be serving 'ere tonight." Kib slightly slurred. "and maybe those two large sweet rolls you have, might be for a later snack?" he states, his eyes quickly looking out at the looming bust.

DM: She looks at the, relative to her, small Kobold and raises her eyebrow. "I'll get ya the ale but a little thing like ya? I am not interested. Even if that was an option" She said as with a snarky tone. She then grabbed the empty glass of ale on his table and walked away her fine ass bouncing as she walked away from to the back of the bar

Me: "ah what mountain to claim" Kib says under his breath.

DM: It seems the most of the other patrons agree as they all seem to stare at that fat ass as it bounces away. In a few minutes She comes back with the drinks handing them to the people who asked for them. Finally she comes to Kib "Here ya go, hope you it doesn't get to your head."

Me: Under the table Kib has a hand on one of his belts. " thank ye, lass. Not ta worry about my head," Kib says before releasing the belt that keeps his stiff third leg in check, letting it thump the bottom of the table. " it's quite large ta begin with." He finishes with a dunk cocky smile.

I roll for my flirting skill (which is 5) on a d20 while the DM rolls for the waitress insight skill (which is a 1) on the d20. I got 23 the DM got 19.

DM: The Waitress, mature woman that she is, hears the thump and is automatically more interested in the situation than she was previously. If his third leg made that noise it might just be what she needed. She Takes a deep breath and leans down close to his ears. "Look sugar, This here ain't a good place for that but... After I am done here, come to my room. Just across the backyard, the first window on the second floor of the house." she was quite impressed after all and she could use some fun after all those boring adventurers coming and going. Not that most people are this easy to convince, she just already had a need for something big.

Me: With Kib's charm working in spades. He gives a bith toothy "tis a promise lass" he says raising his drink a bit.

We then time skip to after the bar part of the inn is closed.

DM: It is later in the night and the bar part of the Inn is closed, and most lights are out. There is nothing but silence here the muddy ground of the backyard of the Inn is under the Kobold's feet as he goes to visit the buxom Waitress. But as he is making his way two people, a dwarf and a Human, come out from behind the stables. "Where do you think you are going runt?" the Human calls out "We saw the wench first, we are gonna have a go with her and we don't want you botherin' " the Dwarf added. ((here you can initiate combat or try for diplomacy

Me: Even in his muddled state of senses, Kib knew that two against one was never good odds. He tries his hand at diplomacy, even though he is not in a clear state of mind. " gentlemen," Kib says in a bit of a slurred voice, "my mum, wise beyond her years, once told me ' son, if you fancy a lady and you wish to take her glance, speak to her then act with her and she be yours." He hiccups "and gentlemen, in my opinion you did neither." His green eyes looking in the space between the dwarf and human. ((Rolling for diplomacy

Me: d20 + 3 = 17 DM: 2d20= (6+5)=11

DM: "Ah, yer' Right Drakeling, we didn't do anything ta stake a claim like tha' " The Dwarf replied clearly brought down by the very clever words of the Kobold. He is humbled. The Human is silent as he is embarrassed of his actions. They return to the main building to their rooms and the Kobold is free to proceed.

Me: Kib makes it to the building the waitress is living in, the close encounter with the two blokes got him mildly sobered up to do this next bit. He looks up and see the second floor window that she told him about. Not wanting to raise too much suspicion, he plans to scale the wooden wall of the building. ((rolling for acrobatics

Me d20+5= 9

DM: Being drunk even if such a thing had made him feel less doosy he could not climb up the building and fell on his back into the dirt. Hearing the sound the Waitress opens her window and looks down at the Fallen Kobold. "What are you doing trying to climb in your state," she says and then goes back inside then throws down a rope for Kib to climb up.

Me: "Sorry lass, I guess I was too clever for my own good." kib says as he reaches the window. It was a good thing that he left some of his "heavier" items in his room in the main inn. He takes off his cloak that got the most muddy and drapes it over the window sil so it doesn't get the waitresses room dirty.

DM: He enters the very common avrage person's room. A nice sizable bed, a small stove and a cabinet for all the belongings along with a table and chair. As he enters he finally gets to see what he couldn't really see from down below. The Waitress is wearing some very form fitting lingere her plump breasts and buttocks overflowing from the tight cloth around her body. "Well, suga' tell care to show me what made that noise?"

Me: "Well lass, if you want ta know" kib says as he undoes his trousers. Though not as impressive as it was when he made the flirt, the 10 inches of flacid Not-Dragon cock is nothing to sneeze at. " it has gone down a bit, but maybe you can perk this pecker up?" He says, giving the waitress a toothy half smile.

DM: Reming that, ten inches itself is fairly above average, The Waitress looks at that thing impressed, her jaw dropped open. Without much provocation she reaches for it with a hand and starts to stroke it as she stared at it intensely. "This thing can't be real..."

Me: Kib starts to throat chirp from touch he is receiving. His impressive cock twitches a bit as well. "The druid's from my village said it was some weird leftover from our dragon ancestors that eventually became not-dragon kobolds. I just like ta think I was just lucky when I was born." Kib mused as blood rushed to inbigin his meaty not-dragon hood.

#sexy dnd

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james-bucky-barnackle · 6 years

Text

Two Night Stand (Part 6)

Synopsis: (AU) You found yourself at a club drinking away to forget about the stress of your shitty job as the assistant of the biggest Editor in New York, you end up hooking up with the man of your dreams only to wake up to a nightmare when you find out he’s the son of your boss.

PART 5 | 2NS Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4,075

A/N: I still have trouble with my wifi so I’m posting this part early!!!

Monday, the first level of hell. And I’m not an idiot to be late, despite getting home at 12 AM. I woke up at six and put effort into applying concealer on my Walmart eyebags. I wore a white loose halter top which I’ve tucked in my beige high waisted skirt and put a gray blazer on top. I twirled my hair into a bun, securing it with a pen which I’ll pull off when I get to the building. As much as I’d love to look nice on the streets, these curls are not gonna take the pollution. I fill Pogo’s bowl and rub his belly, leaving a chew toy next to him, Bruce will be here later to pick him up. I grab my bag and I walk out of the apartment. Wanda’s already left for work, she teaches at one of the private pre-schools, and I can’t trace one single wrinkle on her face. I guess working with kids is easier than working for Winnie. I start walking and go into my boss’ most favored cafés—my order already out front. I make my way to the counter and give the barista a wink, handing him a few dollar bills. The woman in line frowns at me, sorry honey but until you’re not Winnie, you’ll have to wait in line. I’m in an awfully good mood today, considering that it’s another day at the office, but there’s no use in being a fuzzball, I’m not in the building yet. I pull one of the cups from the tray and take a sip, mmm coffee is like my heroin. I used to get a regular latte but ever since I’ve started working for the View, I invested a little more coin into it and started ordering Winnie’s too. It’s amazing, I have no idea what they put in this, but it’s an investment I’m willing to continue cashing myself to. I put it immediately back just before I bump into a cyclist, I hear an audible apology and I immediately forgive him, just as long as no one ruins my clothes, you are all forgiven.

I’m half an hour early when I arrive at the building, which is neat. I get to warm up, because yes working for the view is sort of like training for a sport, with very fast economic risks, the risk of me not getting to pay my rent this month if I don’t get myself right. When the lift arrives at my floor, half of the employees are already there, per usual. I walk to my desk and put my things down. Okay, where’s Maria’s cubicle? I need that article before Winnie arrives. I walk gingerly amongst the sea of busy people procrastinating anything they can get their hands on. What are these people doing all day? I get to her table and it’s empty. Even when I’m thirty minutes early, this desk isn’t supposed to be empty. I pull my phone out and text her where she is.

[Home] I wiggle my eyebrows, what? I have no time for this, I hit call on her number.

“What do you mean you’re home? Are you sick?”

“Home, as in I’m at home.” She replies deadpan, as if it’s normal to be at this time of day. “I’m not sick.” What the hell is going on?

“Then why aren’t you here? Where’s the article Winnie asked you to write?” I’m itching, I’m starting to get very annoyed, I try lowering my voice when people start to glance my way.

“I haven’t written it,” holy. Shit. WHAT? A dramatic pause ensues before a loud cry breaks through my phone. “HE BROKE UP WITH ME Y/N. He. Broke. Up. With. Me.” What’s this have to do with me? “And he told me I wasn’t like anybody else, but he hasn’t been calling me in a week, so I went to his apartment then- aaaah!!!” I hear her sneeze on the other end of the line. That’s her excuse? I could get hit by a truck and I’d for sure still show up at the front desk.

“Okay,” I say like I’m trying to ease a five-year-old child. “can’t you write anything? Anything! Is there anything old on your computer I could give to Winnie?”

“And he had the audacity to tell me it wasn’t me! It was him!” Okay, she is not hearing me out. I start panicking myself, and I drop the call. What the hell am I gonna do? Maria’s gonna get me fired. I doubt Winnie’s gonna let me slide on this one. The weather guy could mess up and give her the wrong information on TV and she’d still find a way to put the blame on me. I dash to my desk almost tripping and hitting the hot coffee sitting graciously on top of it. Not today, mister.

I open a new document and then google on the side. I have no idea what to do, but I’m for sure not letting Winnie come into the office with an empty desk. I’m going to write this article and putting Maria’s name on it, even if it’s the shittiest article ever written. She’s already risked her job not coming in today, could I really make things worse? Milan fashion week, Milan – fashion – week, Milan… Nothing is coming to my head. How am I supposed to know how describe anything? I attended the event sure, but mostly I was just trying to keep my snarky remarks to myself, sitting behind Winnie on the front row of the runway. I can’t think of anything, apart from my feeling queasy when I saw Thor walking the runway looking all fresh and snazzy. I made him, I gave him that career. Focus! I start googling for photos taken by the View’s photographers and I type furiously. I’ve got twenty more minutes; I haven’t written anything in so long. Isn’t this supposed to come naturally? Like riding a bike? It doesn’t go away? All my brain contents are Winnie’s schedule and coffee orders, come on! I spent big bucks on college, work for me, brain! While I’m questioning my own competence, my phone notifies me of a text, “Good morning, doll.” As much as I’d love to respond and giggle to myself, I need to focus. I flip it face down, and face the monitor. How does Maria even talk in her articles? I haven’t read anything she’s written, screw it!

Everyone who’s asking me anything about other things unrelated to my boss and this article has been shooed away and given the hand, by my hunched over self. At this rate, the computer should be releasing smoke.

Most people don’t even have the least bit knowledge on the things they wear, others know more about the brand more than they know themselves. Fashion has turned worlds reeling into first glances, wear the wrong shade of pink and you’re out. |

I continue typing Maria’s article not even knowing which direction it’s heading. Oh god, is this even an article? It sounds, so—stupid, that’s the word. Best case scenario, Winnie reads this and thinks it’s a draft and Maria will be here tomorrow to rewrite an entirely new one; worst case scenario, she burns this paper and Maria will be unemployed, which I never thought I’d not mind until she’s made me incredibly haggard looking like Quasimodo in front of my computer instead of the Esmeralda I longed to be when I came out of the apartment.

Milan’s fashion week gives us a peek of not just the trends you think will be rocked by the young and wealthy of this generation, but of how pattern, shape and form is a huge mark of character when wanting your presence known in the world. Your clothes are your brand, it’s their job to make them look and your voice to make them listen.

Okay cheeseball, we’re printing you. I click the icon and it’s started inking the paper. I want to puke at how cheesy that last paragraph is, but come to think of it, the entire article was destined to be a failure the moment I’ve started writing it. It’s obvious that an ignorant on cashmere wrote it. I hear the printer stop buzzing and I pull it out the tray, raising it up and twirling in my office chair. I did it, or should I say, Maria did it. We did it! And I’ve got three more minutes to go. I pull the pen off my hair, and salvage what’s left of my curls. This looks… decent. I pat my forehead with a napkin, that article was a workout.

The floor grows silent, and there’s only one explanation for that. I stand up, reach for her cup and stand by the door. It’s the perfect temperature, bordering on still hot and are you sure this is still hot? Just the way she likes it. I see her, walking on the aisle and everyone looking and walking elsewhere, not wanting to be in the same lane as her, you don’t want to be in the same lane as her. She’s got her shades and her fur white coat on, and those gorgeous red heels. Her gray hair miraculously curled, framing her face, and even with all that beauty, you know beyond those dark lenses that she’s an evil woman. You can’t have everything, I guess. She gets to the door and I open for her, show time.

“Good morning, I have Maria’s article here and your coffee.” I run behind her and she opens her palm, I gently place the cup. She pauses and bring her shades down her nose to look at the Louis Vuitton handbag sitting where it’s always been, clean and perfectly, seemingly untouched. I see her grin, yes Winnie, no one’s going to jail today. “You have a meeting in 2 hours, and then Clint asked if you could check the creative department this afternoon to review the clothes for the editorial.” I place the paper on her desk, she removes her shades and looks at it. She glances at me from her chair, and my eyes grow wide.

“Right, yes I’m leaving.” I run to the doors and flop on my chair spinning it in a direction where she’s on my peripheral vision. I pretend to type something, please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me. I repeat it in my head like a mantra.

“What are you typing?” I jump in my chair, it’s Sam. “AHwufuef hswuqodb udnidnl---”

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that a new language? The new Morse code?” I bite my cheek, and spin my chair in his direction. I need this chair in my house. I raise my eyebrow and cross my arms. “Nothing, I work here too you know? Why shouldn’t I be on this floor?” he says as a matter of fact. I shrug and spin back to the angle I was gazing at Winnie on.

“Is that a letter from the president?” he says pointing through the glass partition.

“What? No.” I wrinkle my nose.

“That’s odd, she’s still reading.” Holy shit what does that mean? Is that good or bad? Every time any of the writers would submit an article I don’t give enough care to look at Winnie reading, but I’m pretty sure she reads them, I mean that’s her job. And my mornings consist of putting things on her desk and leaving, I don’t know what she does in there.

“Your point is?”

“I’ve been here for more than a year, she doesn’t read articles that long. She reads the first paragraph and the last sentence, then puts it down.” Holy crap, I might’ve just written the worst article known to mankind and she can’t take her eyes off it in disgust. She’s probably getting sore eyes from reading my words. Think positive, maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe she likes it? I move my head forward and stare at her, her eyes squinting on the paper. It’s disgust. Holy shit, sorry Maria, you’ve killed your career the moment you didn’t go to work, that was me trying to salvage whatever brownie points you had.

“D’you write it?” Sam’s voice scares me off again. I shake my head violently. “If you say so.” He crouches down and whispers in my ear before laughing and spinning my chair in the direction of my computer. I’ve been pretending to type on the same document I’ve written the article in. I blow air into my cheeks, great James Bond-ing Y/N. I exit the document and open my phone, oh shoot, Bucky! I text him back “Good morning to you too.”

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes, he sent me a photo of him in his office with his eyes closed and his tongue out, with the caption “meeting later, I’m sleepy.”

I look up my desk and when no one’s looking I snap a quick selfie of my fingers looking like they’re holding Sam who’s standing far enough just to look like a toy. I think of a funny caption and hit send. “Maybe I can send Sam in to proxy you.”

He replies with another photo of him, his eyes staring into the camera, giving me puppy dog eyes. He looks so cute, I’m literally pouting. His brown hair looking luscious, oh how I’d love to run my hands through his hair. “Can you send yourself instead?”

I flush, I reply with three laugh emojis, not really knowing what to reply. I gotta play hard to get sometimes, what happened to miss workaholic and focused? Bucky Barnes has quite a way with me alright. “I guess I was shipped to the wrong Barnes,” I type in, sneakily taking a photo of me mid shrug with Winnie in the background.

“Ugh! Damn delivery service, always getting my address wrong!” I giggle. Before I could type in another reply, I hear my phone ring. Right, I’ve almost forgotten I’m at work.

“Hi! This is Y/N from the View how may I help you?”

“I’d like to talk to Winifred Barnes,”

“Who’s calling?”

“Sandra Wang,” I gasp, the Sandra Wang? I skim through Winifred’s list of people I am not to connect the phone to… and she’s on it.

“I’m sorry, but she’s currently unavailable. You’re going to have to set an appointment for a formal meeting.” I scramble across my desk in search for my planner, “she’s free on-“

“No need, I’m already in the building.” My jaw drops, what did she just say? Did I hear that right?

“I’m afraid, I’m going to have to-“ she hangs up on me. I dial her number on the telephone, and of course she’s not going to take it. Oh, no. I start biting my nail, flustered. Surprise visits? For Winnie? That’s a very hard no. And it’s Sandra Wang, one of the designers lined up for the fashion ball, her coming here uninvited doesn’t sound like good news to me.

I call Sam real quick, who’s flirting with one of the girls in the office, waving my hands frantically and begging him to hurry up. He arrives at my desk and I tell him what’s happening, or should I say, what’s about to happen. And he’s now biting his nails too. The two of us start pacing around my table, we look like the Hardy boys.

What does she have to say that can’t be over the phone? Is she pulling her collection off the ball? Is she dying? Somehow, in some twisted way, Sandra, dying sounded better that having to look for another designer to replace her slot at the ball. Winnie’s influence is overwhelming. The sole reason why we’re both panicking over what other people might think is ridiculously so little of an issue is because 1) as I’ve mentioned multiple times, uninvited guests are unwelcome, count family off the list. 2) Winnie hates her daily routine rearranged, anything that disrupts the schedule. Anything that happens wrong on a Monday, reflects through Friday, and I’m not about to have a target on my ass. The last time this happened, she fired 14 people in the floor. One of them were fired just because Winnie heard her breathe too loud when they were in a meeting. By golly I was scared, it was just my first month on the job, and that’s when I knew I was in deep.

“Did she say where in the building?” Sam asked, momentarily taking a break from his nail biting.

“No?!”

“I’ll stall Sandra, tell her she’s not in the office, and you block Winnie, ask her to do something else or tell her to pee!” Sam whispers, his hands doing wild gestures.

“Ask her to pee?!”

“You know what I mean!” we both run on opposite directions. He pulls out his phone and calls someone. I enter Winnie’s office not even knowing what to do.

“There you are, submit this for proof reading, I want it printed on this month’s issue.” Winifred tells me the moment I enter then hands me the article I just wrote. Holy cow! I can’t believe this is happening, what?! I bite my lips trying to hide the ginormous smile my lips can’t seem to shy away from. Maria owes me big time.

“You got it!” she whips her head, raising her eyebrows at me. Whoops, too much enthusiasm. “Uh- yes of course…”

“What are you still doing in my office?” Oh right, Sandra Wang! What could I say that’ll make her leave the office? I can’t think of anything, anything that’s plausible. A tarantula got in your desk! Or fire drill! I mentally smack my head, fire drill my ass. I know! I’ll tell her Bucky’s outside, I’m sure he’ll back me up, right? Then I can just tell her he suddenly got called for work. Okay that sounded pretty stupid, but it’s better than the first two things I’ve thought of… I think.

“Uhm, there’s someone in the building—”

“Bucky is the perfect cover for Dolores,” hold up what? I walk a little to the back as two women walk into the office with Sam outside the glass walls giving me an apologetic shrug that spells “y-i-k-e-s”, to which I replied a look that spells “r-e-a-l-l-y-?-!”. I guess 14 people on the building might need to start packing now, or more. The woman who’s just spoken looks like she’s in her mid-forties, black hair pushed back, and snaking straight on her back. She has olive skin and small almond eyes, a sharp black liner on her lash line, I bet it could kill. A red head was behind her, she has legs that can go for days, she has beautiful freckles on her cheeks, and her teeth gapped in the middle. She looked like a cover girl.

“Sandra, nice to see you too.” Winnie replies, but gives me a killer look, I give her one of my signature apologetic smiles. And I’m glad she doesn’t reply with my unemployment.

“The girl in the orange camisole, the mystery girl- I have her right here.” Sandra pulls Dolores from her back. I don’t know if I should leave, but I for sure don’t want to and so I figured to leave when Winnie asks me to. Until then I’m getting front row on this devious plan. The girl in the orange camisole? I’m sorry Sandra, but that’s not her, I would know.

“I didn’t think you for being color blind, Sandra, but I’ve seen the photos. The girl caught snogging my son had ____ hair.” My eyes grow wide, she has seen the photos! I shake my head, of course she has, Y/N. But it’s been two days, and I’m still pouncing in this office. She didn’t recognize me? I don’t know if her not acknowledging anything is a good thing.

“As if you haven’t been involved in rumors, Winnie. We could say she dyed her hair.” Sandra smiles, wickedly. What is going on? Who is this Dolores anyway? And what’s this cover for? “This is buzz! This could give my niece her spotlight back,” spot light? I try to recall where I’ve seen her face, but nothing comes to mind. “and Bucky and Dolores have been linked in the past before, it would be the topic of the century.”

“If I wanted to make a rumor to be the topic of the century, I would’ve asked my assistant to pretend to be the woman in the photo. Don’t you think that would be more scandalous?” I choke, an audible one, which makes the three of them look at me. I laugh, hysterically and when no one joins me, I shut the hell up. I smile, funny Winnie. Funny, funny, Winnie. I start fanning myself with the article I’ve written.

“What have you to lose Winnie? In my side of things, I think it’s a fair trade. A good one too.” She puts her hands on Winnie’s glass table. She hates that, she really hates it when people touch her desk. “All your son needs to do is take Dolores as his date to the ball, they’ll wear my designs… Unless you want me to pull my collection out your ball.”

“You do know it’s more of a loss for you than it is a loss for me, right?” I want to laugh because it’s true. Every designer longs for the exposure on that ball, no matter how old or big your brand is, a slot at the View’s ball is to die for. But still, its half a bluff, since we wouldn’t be able to replace Sandra under a week’s notice. And the press will be all over us, which is something Winnie is not a fan of when things are still being prepared. “But fine, if this is your way of getting your niece a date.” WHAT?

Sandra looks insulted, but she still managed a smirk to spite her colleague. She removes one of her leather gloves and offers it to Winnie to shake. I already know what’s going on my boss’ face, she hates handshakes, if there’s a bill on it she’d be the first to sign it. She waits until Sandra gets impatient, and she doesn’t, so Winnie sighs and shakes it anyway. And right after she does, Sandra flashes her million-dollar smile and leaves the room, but not before looking me up and down. And I can say the same for Dolores, who’s made it a point to look at me during Sandra and Winnie’s conversation the way they both looked at each other. Like we’re their mini-mes and I cringe, but not as much as I’d cringe if I was Sandra’s mini me.

“How desperate.” Winnie scoffed as soon as the two have made their exit. I pull a small bottle of alcohol out of my blazer’s left pocket and spray some on Winnie’s already waiting hand. She gestures on the place where her two unexpected visitors have just stood and I spray that as well.

“Next time you let anyone here without an appointment, you’re fired, Y/L/N. I don’t care if you can write a good article, I don’t want unnecessary people taking up oxygen in my office.” Fear rushes through my body, how did she know? I didn’t even realize she’d given me a compliment.

“But I didn’t- It was Maria—"

“Maria already called in sick today,” that bitch. She didn’t even get me a heads up. I worked my ass off for that paper, and here she is calling in sick? I worked my ass for nothing. Well, maybe not nothing. Did Winnie just say I write good stuff?! My inner goddess is beaming, my lips start to curl up. I can’t wait to tell Wanda.

She then turns to me, waving a finger, “Get back to work, and call Dolce and Gabbana, tell them to cancel James’ fitting. Guess we’re settling with Sandra Wang.” I spoke too soon.

I’m dumbfounded, so many things have happened under one conversation and I haven’t processed a single thing. What the hell just happened? Not a second later, I feel my phone vibrate. Nat just texted me a photo of the dress I’m wearing to the fashion ball. Great, I can’t wait.

PART 7

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342 notes · View notes

idiopath-fic-smile · 6 years

Text

Fic: R

Fandom: Les Mis

Pairing: Enjolras/Grantaire

Prompt: Enjolras fights for android rights. Grantaire is an android being mistreated by his current “owners.”

Notes: Commissioned by Vee, for Vee’s BFF. Hope you enjoyed it!

Fic:

Enjolras and Courfeyrac were clear about their budget, but the robot-seller is still yammering on about his latest models and their various special features, as if he can smell the privilege wafting off Enjolras like stink from a junkpile. Enjolras lets his eyes drift away from the counterfeit luxury ‘bots in their slightly dubious packaging. There’s a work table in back littered with spare parts--a kind of bloodless carnage, backlit by the blue buzz of a neon sign. Hired muscle by the back door, a sure indication this place isn’t legal. As if that wasn’t clear enough.

If his parents knew he was here--well, it’s just as well Combeferre finally managed to remove the tracking chip from Enjolras’s ankle.

He’s glancing around, trying not to look like a man casing the joint, when his eyes land on a raggedy off-brand Model R. The ‘bot is staring right back at him with blue, blue eyes. Probably not a display--not flashy enough, except for those eyes. A worker drone, maybe. Shabby clothes, a nest of tangled dark hair that probably hasn’t seen a comb since the date of manufacture. No shoes.

No shoes.

Robots are programmed to feel pain, to discourage them from dangerous activities that might lead to injury, or otherwise violate the warranty. The shop is cold and the rough concrete floor is full of debris, but the ‘bot is barefoot.

It’s hard to watch, and Enjolras instinctively looks away for a second. When he looks back, the Model R is still watching him, whirring a little the way a ‘bot does when it hasn’t been properly rebooted in a long, long time.

Enjolras must make a face, because then Courfeyrac is following his gaze.

“Excuse us,” Courfeyrac interjects to the seller--Enjolras didn’t catch his name, and doesn’t care to.

Courfeyrac and Enjolras step to the side, out of earshot. The ground is sticky with what looks to be old oil. Enjolras thinks again of those bare feet.

“Are you sure about this,” says Courfeyrac in a low voice. “He’s in bad shape, we might have more luck picking something in better condition--”

“What about our goals,” Enjolras whispers back. Buying and rehabilitating robots is expensive, time-intensive, inefficient. Until the Amis de l’ABC have the people and supplies to mount a proper rebellion, they must be careful with their resources. That means stepping in for the direst cases.

Courfeyrac nods once, decisive. “We’ve made our decision,” he announces to the seller. “We’d like the Model R, please.”

“Sirs,” the seller stammers, “really, we have any number of better specimens available today, for only a simple down payment plus--”

“The Model R,” says Enjolras in his most commanding tone.

The ‘bot is silent on the way outside, except for that terrible whirring. Up close, it sounds more like a fork caught in a garbage disposal. His movements are jerky and stiff, like a wind-up toy--or like every joint hurts. He is silent on the sidewalk, silent as Courfeyrac unlocks the car, silent until they’ve climbed inside and the car doors have shut behind them.

“Am I going to be scrapped for parts,” he says in a low, scratchy voice. He’s only half-asking, must have come to the conclusion back in the shop. “‘Cause I should warn you, I’m already a chimera. You’ll have a hell of a time finding compatible pieces.”

Enjolras studies the ‘bot’s face in the rearview. No expression. No expression, but he waited until Courfeyrac and Enjolras were strapped in and out of arm’s reach to mouth off. It’s got the air of a survival tactic. Enjolras feels sick.

“We’re not scrapping you,” Enjolras tells him. “We won’t hurt you. I know you have no reason to trust us yet, but we’re here to help.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” the ‘bot deadpans. In the whirring, grinding pause that follows, he blinks jerkily, as if shocked at the lack of repercussion, and Enjolras wants to murder everyone who has ever owned him.

“That reminds me,” Courfeyrac says cheerfully. “You need a name.”

“R,” says the ‘bot.

“Not your Model, a name.”

“Like a human.” The ‘bot sounds wary.

“Like you, the way you were meant to be,” says Enjolras. “Society acts like servitude is just part of the natural order, but inequality is man-made.”

“I’m man-made.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted a name?” Courfeyrac tries. “And don’t say R, I mean a real name.” The other ‘bots the Amis have freed all volunteered a name right away, as if they’d been holding it in secret for a while. This one just blinks again, slowly.

The pragmatic approach seems best. “If you don’t want a name, what should we call you?”

“You’re just trying to trick me into naming myself,” the ‘bot fires back. “How about… Zero-One-Zero-One-Zero-Zero-One-Zero.”

“What’re the odds that’s a capital R in binary,” mutters Courfeyrac.

“It is,” says Enjolras.

“Wait,” says the ‘bot, “I’ve got it!” The edge of a smile creeps into his voice. “Grantaire!”

The same thing but in French, but it’s also the first flash of real life from him.

Courfeyrac and Enjolras exchange a look.

“Why didn’t they give you shoes?” Enjolras blurts out, and Grantaire does the blinking thing again.

“Why would I need them?” says Grantaire. “I wasn’t allowed to leave.”

Enjolras makes a mental note: first order of business: to allow Grantaire to recharge and restart at least twice. Second immediate order of business: get him some goddamn footwear, the sturdiest available.

It takes three different complete reboots for the whirring noises to stop.

It takes two sessions with cream rinse, detangler, and combs before Grantaire’s hair will lie down into relatively orderly curls, Feuilly reports grimly from the bathroom. As one of few freed robots among the Amis, it’s his task on the theory he’ll go about it with the most sensitivity. Enjolras had pictured poor Feuilly trying to coax Grantaire into the warm suds like making a cat take a bath, but Feuilly shakes off Enjolras’s gratitude, laughing,

“Oh no, he loves the bathtub, that’s not the problem. I’m not sure how I’ll get him out, frankly.”

Enjolras remembers then that most robots below a Model H are cleaned, if ever, by a quick hosing-off in the garage.

“Tell him he can stay in as long as he wants,” Enjolras declares, and Feuilly nods, smiling.

It takes nine separate arguments to make Grantaire accept his new boots, donated by Bahorel and yet still in surprisingly good condition.

Despite the initial protests, Enjolras later sometimes catches from the corner of his eye Grantaire perched on a kitchen counter or the arm of a sofa, swinging his feet and admiring the scuffed black imitation-leather. They’re well-made, thick soles, strong enough to carry him away from anywhere.

For the first five or six months, Grantaire waits to say anything snarky until he’s clearly out of hitting distance from any human.

The first time Grantaire leans into Enjolras’s space and announces, “I’m sorry, but your logo is terrible. It looks like something one of you sneezed,” Enjolras wants to hug him.

And well--that’s the problem, isn’t it.

By that point, Grantaire’s every motion is impossibly, inhumanly smooth, like a dancer but moreso. All those resets. He must’ve gotten used to compensating, as much as possible, for the rough control he had over his own body. Now that those limitations are gone, he’s left with a surplus of grace. Knowing this does not detract from the effect. If anything, it only adds to it.

Enjolras catches himself watching Grantaire all the time. For a while, he thinks it’s only aesthetic appreciation.

Then comes the day Grantaire laughs--actually throws his head back and laughs--and Enjolras thinks, ‘...oh.’

Damn.

It’s not fair to come to Grantaire with this. The power imbalance between is immense, hard to even resolve into words. Grantaire’s not legally a person.

It’s an impossible problem.

Then comes the night Grantaire catches Enjolras watching. They’re halfway through a meeting, Grantaire milling around in the background, and their eyes connect, Grantaire staring right back at him again, like back in the shop except this time the steady gaze doesn’t read as low memory but intensity. Enjolras doesn’t remember a single point anyone makes for the rest of the two hours. Grantaire stands in the back of the room and looks back at him, knowing.

The arguments really start in earnest, then.

(That night: “But if you feel the same way--”

The same way. Everything would be easier if Grantaire could just hate him. Enjolras swallows. “It doesn’t matter.”

Weeks later, an hour before dawn: “What do you mean, I can’t consent? Do I strike you as terribly obedient, Apollo?

Noon, with all their friends around them: “Humankind brought robotkind into this world,” Enjolras is saying. “We, all of us, have the duty, the responsibility, to fight for their equal treatment under the laws, to do right by them, to listen to their demands and answer them--”

A withering glance from Grantaire. “How’s that working out?”)

Grantaire prods, Grantaire provokes. Grantaire makes a scene at meetings and mealtimes. Maybe Grantaire thinks he is daring Enjolras not to want him. That’s not how it works.

Enjolras is miserable.

It takes a full year for Enjolras to run into Grantaire in an unguarded moment--the middle of the night, hot as Hell, AC broken, nobody’s asleep--and realize: Grantaire is miserable, too.

“Listen,” says Grantaire, quietly. “Just--please, listen.” No irony. No sarcasm. It’s worrying.

“Yeah?”

Grantaire takes a deep breath. He doesn’t need to; his air circulation doesn’t involve anything like lungs. It’s a habit picked up over the weeks and months from his friends. Enjolras waits.

“Either you think I have a soul or you don’t,” says Grantaire.

It’s Enjolras’s turn to blink at him. “What?”

Grantaire continues, resolute. “You can argue for our rights and our--complexity, our capacity for emotion, our freedoms, or you can say, ‘Poor little Grantaire, he can’t really make any decisions on his own. Poor Grantaire, he thinks he’s in love, like a human--’” He breaks off, shaking his head. He’s vibrating a little. Not like a stuck fan. More like there’s more inside of him than can fit.

“If you were a human,” Enjolras says, gently as he can, “an organic human that had spent his whole life as somebody’s property, I would absolutely still be saying no to you--”

“But I’m not,” Grantaire snaps. “I’ve had seven full resets, I have literally erased my trauma. It’s not present in my mind anymore. You can’t apply human rules to me, and I don’t mean that how those assholes do when they say we shouldn’t be allowed to--drive, go to school, eat at restaurants, whatever--I don’t believe that the likes of Feuilly or Cosette are worse than you, less than. But we are different. And I am fine. I am fine, and I am standing here, telling you I have feelings for you. Now, you can do with that what you want. But at least stop pretending you’re protecting me, because you are not.”

There’s a pause. For a second, Enjolras thinks Grantaire’s overheating again, but it’s just the ceiling fan overhead.

“That’s--quite a speech,” says Enjolras weakly.

Grantaire shrugs a shoulder with that familiar, easy, inhuman grace. “Feuilly helped,” he says.

“Thank him for me,” says Enjolras vaguely, and then he steps forward and they’re kissing. His fingers are in Grantaire’s hair, and Grantaire’s hands are solid and steady at his waist and they’re kissing. Enjolras breaks apart to smile like an idiot at Grantaire and ducks back in again. Grantaire tastes like the sour-sweet candies he’s always stealing from Joly. He tastes warm and alive.

#fic #robot adventures!#i had a devil of a time trying to stay at the wordcount AND make the relationship feel fully consensual #a problem i cleverly solved by going WAY WAY over the wordcount

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hailqiqi · 6 years

Text

Skirting Katabasis

AO3 - Chapter One - Chapter Two

Chapter Three: She Forgot it Wasn’t Just About Her

Words: 2,913

Written for the @pidgebigbang!

Shout out to @ibupony for their glorious artwork (spoilers for a later chapter) and @sp4c3-0ddity for their diligent beta-ing (this chapter would have been very different without her).

This fic was not supposed to be this angsty, but I’m proud of how many headcanons I’ve managed to cram in.

Are the read mores working again yet?

“Forgive my interruption, Princess, but did you just say refugees?”

J'aothlians were officially Pidge's least favourite aliens. They ranked even lower than Galra, given that she actively liked more than a few of them.

“Yes, Kztaun, there is some refugee movement between planets in the Coalition,” Allura replied. Her disdain was loud and clear through the bond, but — impressively — there was no trace in her voice. Allura’s diplomatic skills were one of Voltron’s best assets.

Pidge, for her part, was only ever expected to play nice, but she really should be better at diplomacy. The Holts had been in the Garrison for six generations and ranked as Commander or higher for all of them. Charity galas and harsh whispers of ‘Katerina, please don’t embarrass me this time’ were staples of her childhood.

She’d only escaped her junior débutante ball because half her family ‘died’ and it would be ‘too much stress’. Honestly, that was probably the only objectively good thing to come out of the Kerberos mission.

“You see, Princess, we don’t exactly have the room or resources for refugees, though we are of course happy to help in other ways…”

Pidge carefully kept her face neutral, biting back a snort. Her mother would have been proud.

J'aothl had plenty of room for refugees, and refugees would probably be lining up to come here. The city was built of white stone and had wide, clean streets and large squares filled with orderly-but-colourful stalls. A pristine white beach and a crystal-clear ocean bordered it on one side, with vast, mostly uninhabited savannas extending to snow-capped mountains on the other.

They could gift each refugee an acre of land and probably still never see them. Alas, J’aothl was in a heavily occupied quadrant of the Empire and inaccessible by anything other than teludav, a technology which the rest of the Coalition were sorely lacking.

“Actually, the refugee situation is mostly under control. We were hoping that you could help us make inroads into the more established areas of the Empire…”

The J’aothlian ministers — or Kztaun, as they called themselves — discreetly heaved a collective sigh of relief. Pidge felt a wave of anger wash over her. Two-faced, selfish snobs.

The planet had been a part of the Empire for millennia, and over the centuries evolved into a vacation destination for Galra subjects. It was nothing like the impoverished, oppressed planets Voltron usually visited. The only reason J’aothl was considering joining the Coalition at all was because tourist GAC had ground to a halt with all the upheaval. Even the commander in charge of the planet had been redeployed elsewhere, along with his entourage.

The Kztaun Major was obviously hoping that the Coalition could help to plug the gap.

Pidge tried to tune out the discussion as it turned towards intelligence, trade, and treaties. Natural beauty aside, J’aothl was apparently the most medically advanced planet in the universe and the original creators of Altean healing pod technology, which was the main reason Allura and Coran had jumped at the invitation despite the risky location. If they came on board Pidge would end up being briefed separately on the tech side of things, so it didn’t really matter if she paid that much attention now.

Plus, the last time she’d been in a room with people like this she’d gotten herself arrested for assault and banned from the Garrison Social Club. She didn’t quite trust herself to speak.

“...come here, the view across the water is absolutely delightful. After dinner, if you have time…”

Hunk glanced at Pidge nervously while she suppressed a twitch.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to!”

“I’m exceedingly glad to hear that our Justice Kztaun will be able to show you more of our beautiful planet. Now if we could…”

Pidge pushed her annoyance down and battled to tune out the conversation again. She was a Holt. She’d been brought up around people like this, and honestly? This lot had nothing on some of the Garrison wives.

It was probably because she was tired.

That had to be it. Pidge was really proud of the progress she'd been making on The Obol lately — the first half a foot or so was even recognisable as the bottom of the spaceship, a feat she didn't think was possible without Hunk — but progress came at a price, and for Pidge that price was collapsing into bed way past midnight after quick showers to get the grease off.

Facing the the universe's self-proclaimed greatest hosts and 'most evolved civilisation' on roughly two months of averaging four hours’ sleep a night would be difficult for anybody.

“I’m sure your Blue Paladin would make a fine escort.”

Pidge closed her eyes and blocked it out. It was just because she was tired.

Her bad mood had nothing to do with the Justice Kztaun being one of the most beautiful alien women Pidge had ever seen, nor the fact that she had been making eyes at Lance since the Castle had touched down.

Nor the fact that Lance was lapping it up.

Nausea swirled in her belly, and Pidge swallowed. It was ridiculous, but whatever. She wasn’t going to care.

The Kztaun kept batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, flipping her hair over her shoulder (even though it wasn’t even as long as Pidge’s had been!), and directing the conversation towards him for his 'valuable input'. Lance, for his part, was actually being charming — flirting subtly, paying her compliments at all the right times... Since when was he even able to do that?!

He'd barely even glanced at Pidge. Pidge, who'd been stupid enough to think that maybe they were on the verge of something. That maybe he actually liked her back. That liking Lance might not be such a bad thing after all, that maybe, maybe --

Hunk’s warm hand closed around her lower arm gently, cutting that train of thought off before it could show on her face. Pidge wished she could slip her hand into his, squeeze it until she could feel the steady comfort radiating through his warm skin, but that wouldn’t exactly look professional.

Instead, she took a deep breath as quietly as she could and focused on counting the flowers in the vase. Had she seen flowers resembling these at one of those horrible galas before? Maybe if she could place a memory she could remember some snarky comment about how ‘legacy women don’t pilot’ and get angry again.

Anger looked good on a soldier. Bursting into tears at the negotiating table? Not so much.

At least she was meeting Keith later. Apparently the chair and a few smaller pieces had been sold to a collector on the outskirts of the city, so she was meeting him after the dinner tonight. All she had to do was try to ignore stupid Lance and his stupid flirting (with everyone but her, he’d never flirted like that with her) and the concerned gazes that everyone else kept shooting her way...and somehow keep ignoring them all the way through dinner. Oh, and she had to definitely not stage a repeat of the Holt Fundraising Dinner in the process.

Then she would be free to sneak around the city with Keith who, at the very least, wouldn’t judge her if she needed to hit something.

Just six more vargas to go.

Madonna, how did she get into these situations? Here she was in space, millions of light-years away from any known allergens, and yet her eyes were sore, itchy, and watering, her nose was completely blocked, and her chest felt tight.

She glanced at Keith next to her on the sofa, completely unaffected as he sipped his tea, and for a fleeting moment she understood Lance’s jealousy.

Another round of sneezing racked her body with the force of an ion cannon. M'tchkiera tsk'd sympathetically. "I really can't understand how that can be common for your species," she said as she passed Pidge another tissue. "Anyway, as I was saying... Litchvr then had to travel to the Pyralliul Quadrant, which as you know is terribly far from here..."

Just to spite her -- because that seemed to be what the universe was up to today -- another one of those stupid ngl'achra-whatevers (why was every name on this stupid planet impossible to pronounce?! Cats. They were space cats. Done.) climbed over her shoulder from the back of the sofa and jumped onto her lap. She hurriedly pushed the space cat off as gently as possible, but the quiznaking furball still managed to leave a cloud of pastel pink and blue fur in its wake.

And off she went with another round of sneezing.

"Here, dear, have some more tea." A cup of steaming neon pink tea appeared under Pidge's nose when her vision finally cleared. She accepted it gratefully, and, without missing a beat, M'tchkiera (who insisted on being called Mad'ynko for short, because that apparently made complete, logical sense on J’aothl) continued on with her story. "At that point in time his mother had taken up with a woman from the Y'cht'kry District near the Gyrzcha Savanna -- I know you're likely busy with paladin and other duties but if you do get a chance to explore the city, don't waste any time there, it's dreadfully boring..."

Pidge had no idea what the conversation was even about anymore, so she tuned it out and hoped she was humming at the appropriate times. Mad'ynko — the first collector Keith had identified as having parts of The Obol — was an elderly J'aothlian lady who seemingly had a great deal of money and very little to spend it on. She had greeted them kindly, ushered them inside, listened to why they had come, and immediately offered them tea. Honestly, she was the first J'aothlian that Pidge actually sort of liked.

Only sort of, though. So far she had told them the life stories of what seemed like every single person in the district -- along with those of their cousins, childhood best friends, and random farmers’ market buddies — but whenever Keith steered the conversation back to The Obol, she would look at one of her bazillion space cats and say, 'But they would be so sad without their favourite chair!'

Two of said space cats were watching her from the familiar orange chair right now, their fluffy tails swishing slowly as they sprawled out on the seat, mocking her with their eyes.

Pidge refrained from sticking her tongue out and took another sip of tea. The pinnacle of human engineering, and it had been reduced to a cat tree.

She was going to need something stronger than tea.

"So then Harold, Zgniecs bless his soul—" Pidge blinked. Harold? "—was awarded the Medal of Highest Healing, but of course, as his widow, I submitted it to the Museum after his passing, and, as luck would have it, it ended up on the pyre—"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Pidge murmured automatically, feeling completely thrown for a loop. Everything on this stupid planet was completely unpronounceable, yet this woman's husband had been called Harold?

(It was probably short for Glyg'tch'kinzkaria.)

"Oh, Harold?" Mad'ynko waved a hand dismissively. "No need, my dear, no need. I'm well shot of him. Remaining dutiful while the poison worked was troublesome, of course, but—"

Both Pidge and Keith choked on their tea in unison.

Keith recovered first. "Uh," he began, banging his fist against his sternum. "You poisoned your husband?"

Mad'ynko looked at him coolly over the rim of the delicate silver teacup. "Why, yes, dear, of course. He was a philanderer." She took a sip, then smiled at Pidge. "It was by far the best decision I ever made. I've still got some left; shall I give you a vial together with the spaceship parts in case your black-haired beau here decides to stray?"

Pidge spluttered, making herself sneeze again in the process. "We're not together! We're just friends!"

"Oh?"

One perfectly groomed eyebrow was arched high as she looked between the two.

"We're...not like that," Keith confirmed, gripping his tea tightly. "Pidge is more like...like a little sister, than anything."

"Aw, Keith!" Pidge smiled and ducked her head cutely, batting her eyelashes at him, though the effect was probably muted somewhat by the giant clump of snot she could feel dangling from her nose.

Keith rolled his eyes and handed her another tissue, but that was definitely a blush on his cheeks, the sight of which warmed her heart.

Mad'ynko studied them curiously, one pale hand gently stroking the pastel purple space cat in her lap. She waited until the tissue had joined the growing pile of them in the trash can by Pidge’s feet before continuing the conversation.

"Why not? Are you already married to another?” Mad'ynko smiled indulgently, and Pidge was irresistibly reminded of summer nights spent being subjected to her Nonna’s good-natured — but nosey — neighbours. “Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but I find it difficult to believe that one as beautiful and accomplished as yourself should be single!"

Yep, Mad'ynko would fit right in with the donna. (Had she mentioned having a son who was single yet…?)

Keith laughed. "She has a boyfriend."

"No, I quiznaking don't," Pidge cut in, mood immediately souring. She took a deep breath and relaxed her grip on the delicate cup before continuing, ignoring the curious look Keith shot her. "I don't have time for a boyfriend, anyway."

"Much better that way, I fear," Mad'ynko answered primly. "Men simply can't help themselves. It's better to be alone than to allow someone to make you feel second-best."

"Tell me about it," Pidge muttered bitterly, downing the rest of her tea in one gulp. Apparently Lance really couldn't help himself. It was like he saw a pretty face and his brain just switched off.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Mad'ynko leaned forward to pat Pidge on the arm, nudging the purple space cat off her lap in the process. "Don't you worry, my dear. I'll make sure to add a vial or two to the package."

Pidge stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Maybe Mad'ynko would be the first J'aothlian she liked, after all.

“Hand it over.”

Pidge wiped the sweat off her brow and blinked. “Hand what over?”

“The poison she gave you,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes. “Hand it over.”

“I’m not gonna use it.” She glared at him when Keith shot her a look over his water packet.

They were standing in the Great Puzzling Hangar at about two in the morning, having just finished cleaning and installing all three chairs onto the now-completed floor (having an extra pair of hands really helped with the heavy lifting).

They’d gotten the chair back to the castle via a hair-raising ride across the city in the cab of one of Mad'ynko’s neighbour’s sons’ hover-vans. For all its ‘great civilisation’, J’aothl apparently had very little in the way of road rules.

(Keith was going to return to Mad'ynko’s with an Altean blanket-cloud for the space cats tomorrow. He had been offered a lift, but Pidge suspected he was going to walk.)

Aside from the chair, Mad'ynko had also purchased a small box of odds-and-ends which now needed to be categorised properly. None of them were the missing thruster engine piece (from what Pidge could see), but one piece definitely looked like a bit of the flight stick…

“Pidge.”

She sighed. “Keith, I am not going to poison Lance. Relax already.”

“I’d rather you didn’t have temptation to hand,” he said evenly, plopping himself on the ground in front of her box.

Pidge steadfastly ignored his gaze and continued sorting through the contents.

“Pidge…”

“Ugh, fine!” She pulled the two little vials from her pocket and threw them at him.

The jerk caught them with ease — how were his reflexes so good? Was it a Galra thing? — and she ducked her head, focusing on the box so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t have any reason to use them on Lance anyway. It’s not like we were dating.”

“You weren’t? I thought you were spending all your free time together.” Keith’s tone was genuinely surprised.

The words stabbed her straight through the heart, and she tried to hide a wince. She shrugged miserably, knuckles tightening around a titanium exhaust of some sort; apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d been reading things wrong.

“Yeah, well, I guess that meant something different to Lance.”

Keith didn’t reply, and she willed herself to focus on the pieces. For the next few moments they sat in silence, the only noise the slurping of Keith’s straw and the clinking of metal on metal as Pidge grouped like components together.

Keith’s water packet had long been empty by the time he finally spoke.

“Pidge, I...I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

Sudden, burning tears pricked at her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away. “Look… I knew Lance was like that from the start. We all did. I guess… Oh, quiznak, Keith, I don’t know.” Pidge ran her hands through her hair and gazed at the ceiling of the hangar. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Sure.” Keith tossed his empty water packet towards the door and got to his feet. “What were you planning on working on next? Is there anything else you want me to move while I’m here?”

–> Chapter Four: She Forgot to Step Outside Her Head

Fun fact: the space cats have glowing red eyes like the fluffy demons they are.

Also fun fact: Everybody on the team pronounces J’aothlian words differently. None of them are right.

#plance #pidge big bang #my writing #keith #pidge #lance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #lidge #pance #I'm sorry for the angst #well I'm not but I am

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sagaciousfchuzzle · 6 years

Note

Do ALL of the Space asks!!!!

dOhhh noooooooooo, whoever could this beeeeeeeeeComet- What are you currently frustrated about?

Hahaha oh boy. Mostly how fucking stupid I was not doing internships when I had more of the chance and instead chose to go back home every summer. I really, really appreciated it at the time, but whenever I look for wildlife jobs now I just feel so underqualified and completely unprepared. I was stupid and some friends who will see this will never let me forget it.

Black Hole- What are you most afraid of?

At this moment what I’m most afraid of is not being able to get a job in my field and not being able to make some kind of meaningful contribution to conservation and stuff.

Galaxy- Do you have any nicknames? What are they?

Uhhhhhh, Plum/PlumPlum, Mr. Sneeze, Coah; I think that’s about it?

Star- What song(s) do you feel describes you?

Fffffffuuuuuuuuck, um. Okay so I wasted like 3 hours trying to find good ones so let’s just go with these:

Natalia Lafourcade’s Mi Tierra Veracruzana (specifically this live version)

Nujabes’ Spiritual State.

Wind of Departure/~Setting Off Wind~ from Monster Hunter 4.

Baths’ Yeoman, a wonderfully queer musician.

Pogo’s J’Adore Juin, though it breaks my heart that Pogo is an MRA idiot.

Moon- Are you currently reading any books? If so, what book(s)?

Oh god, sadly not. I still have some Discworld books to read but I don’t want to be done-done with the series as a whole. ;_;

Planets- If you could go anywhere, where would you go?

New Zealand, Japan, South Korea, probably.

Mercury- Describe your aesthetic.

Earth tones, rustic looks, organized messes, wildflowers and pine trees, hearty food and warm blankets on a cold and cozy day.

Venus- What’s your favorite tv show?

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm honestly maybe Parks & Rec? Or Steven Universe.

Earth- If you could be anyone else for a day, who would you want to be?

On one hand I could be Chris Evans for a day but on the other hand I’d also want to be someone STUPIDLY RICH so I could give tons of money to me and my loved ones, and I wouldn’t want to do that to Chris Evans. Probably the latter, just someone super rich whom I don’t care about.

Mars- If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?

Haha um. Maybe my penchant for sweet things. Or, y’know,my metabolism/weight.

Jupiter- If you had to pick one color to use for an entire week, what color would you choose?

This is a joke right? ‘Cause anyone who knows anything about me will know the answer is Green.

Saturn- How far would you go for those you care about?

Very far.

Uranus- What would you say is your greatest achievement?

Fuck me man, I don’t know. I think being considered someone my friends can trust to talk about shit with.

Neptune- Describe yourself in one sentence.

Hi I fiercely believe in there being a right and wrong and tend to not suffer those who choose the latter; that being said, I am a goof who loves puns and even though I can be snarky as hell I secretly prefer it when people are even more snarky back to me and put me in my place, because it’s fun to laugh, even at yourself.

Pluto- If you could meet anyone, alive or dead, who would you meet?

Terry Pratchett, author of the Discworld series (and many more books besides!).

Constellations- If you could have one talent, what would you want it to be? (can be magical or not)

>Magical or notOh man. Okay so if I want to be broken I’d say absolute control over time, so absolute that even fi I create paradoxes it isn’t an issue. Alternatively, something I’ve always thought would eb cool was to either:Be able to teleport as far as your eye can seeorAny time you’re going down a street or sitting in a place or whatever, and for some vague reason it reminds you of some other place you’ve been to (so you drive past a street called Railroad Avenue, but you know of another Railroad Avenue in another town, or you’re sitting in a park and smells like your grandparents’ backyard), those two places become ‘linked’ and you can freely teleport between the two vaguely similar locations. You can’t like… consciously force the linking though.

Asteroid- When you die, what do you want to be done with your body?

Cremated, spread over some nice wilderness, maybe with a tree.

Aquarius- What’s a topic you enjoy learning about?

B I O L O G Y & E C O L O G Y

Aquila- Do you prefer to read books or watch movies?

I feel like these are apples & oranges? Like books are more of a solitude thing to enjoy by yourself, but movies are great to share with people.

Aries- What is something you enjoy doing?

Telling myself I’m going to get back into drawing, and then not. c:Alternatively, coming up with tabletop rpg plots and never using them.

Auriga- If you had to pick one villain from any media, who would you rather have to face and why?

The Nightmare Knight from Cucumber’s Quest, because spoiler reasons.

Bootes- If you could have any animal, wild or not, fake or not, which would you want?

G R I Z Z L Y B E A R .Or maybe a feathered serpent like Quetzalcoatl.

Cancer- How do you want to be remembered?

Someone who, despite his extraordinarily sharp wit, was kind and cozy.

Canis Major- How many friends do you have?

Lots man.

Capricornus- What’s a song lyric that you relate to?

Honestly I’m having a hard time with this one. I guess from Hey Rosetta! we’ve got two:From their song Kintsukuroi:Oh see inside of me lay the heels of your hands upon me and let your fingers fall bless these broken bonesmake it whole, make it better than it was before make it better than it was before!

and their song Dream:couldn’t we make, couldn’t we make, couldn’t we make itjust like we wanted, just like we need itwhy can’t we, just like a dream?

who says we can’t. who says we can’t, who says we shouldn’twho says we couldn’t, make it just like we love itwhy can’t we, just like a dream?

Cassiopeia- What’s your favorite quote?

I guess, “The blood of the covenant of friendship is thicker than the water shared by the womb” ‘cause that’s the first one that came to mind.

Cygnus- If you could go back to any time period for a couple days, when/where would you want to go?

I think to November a couple years back, or to some time last winter. There’s some stuff I could at least try to fix.

Gemini- Do you have any siblings? How many?

Just one older brother.

Leo- If you could change the way any movie was made, which movie would you change?

Honestly probably Kubo & the Two Strings because it had so much potential but the second half of the film seems so…………………. so boring compared to what they could have done with it.

Libra- If you could talk to your past self, what would you tell yourself?

Bitch stay in Alaska and do an internship.

Lyra- Would you rather be feared or loved?

Feared by strangers, loved by friends & family.

Orion- What’s your favorite type of weather?

Brightly sunny with some scattered clouds, but none-the-less it’s cold & crisp. Or it’s night time with moderate rain and wet streets.

Pegasus- What’s your favorite music genre?

Fuck man there can’t be just one. Jazz, Classical, pseudo….electronic-ish stuff???, soundtracks, etc.

Perseus- What’s your favorite movie genre?

Action/Adventure or Comedy.

Pisces- Describe someone you love without saying their name.

She’s Saint Francis incarnate, and not just for the animals. Even when people hurt her she will always take the higher path, and I know she has a better moral compass than I do. She’s wise and snarky and loves working the earth with her own hands (Hint: it’s an aunt of mine).

Sagittarius- What do you do when you don’t feel well? What do you eat/drink?

If you’re talking about a cold or something what I tend to do is fill a kettle to the brim and heat up a ton of water, then basically chug tea all day. Specifically chamomile or maybe a lemon tea, but both with some honey. That tends to help me recuperate faster.

Scorpius- If you had to pick someone to betray you, who would you pick?

Probs my friend Owen, ‘cause he’d be the easiest to ignore. 😂

Taurus- What makes you feel comfortable?

Eating food with friends, telling stories and jokes, good music on drives long & short, telling truths and sharing feelings, going to sleep exhausted because I actually did stuff during the day.

Ursa Major- If you had to pick any job to have, what job would you want?

Savior of all Ursus-kind. Or like raising abandoned bear cubs which would be super sad but also super heartwarming.

Virgo- What do you value the most- artistic ability/creativity, musical ability, athletic ability, intellect, or work ethic?

I think I respect work ethic the most - you may not be the most capable, but you’re being honest & earnest, and like a teacher of mine said in the past, “Hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.”

Neutron- Are you more of a leader or a follower?

Honestly I’m happy to be a follower unless there’s no leader or the leader is incompetent.

Supernova- How do you feel about yourself?

Kind of unhappy, for the reasons mentioned in Comet. Kind of annoyed at how it feels like I’m procrastinating on starting my own life, whether that’s intentional or not.

Supergiant- What’s something you like about yourself?

People have told me they feel comfortable talking to me about issues and stuff and I really, really like that I can be that kind of person for my friends.

Red Giant- Would you get into a debate/argument with someone if you heard them saying something you disagree with or know to be wrong, or would you stay silent?

It depends. If they’re just talking with their own group and I’m not going to be stuck near them for hours, then I can just put headphones in, but if they’re making someone uncomfortable or something, I’d step in. I’d also step in if it was an honest mistake.

Red Dwarf- What’s your favorite smell? What smell makes you feel most comfortable?

Pine trees I think. I loooooooooooooooove the smell of pine.

Protostar- Give a random fact about yourself.

I finally beat Dragon’s Dogma the other day and I was scared I was going to be disappointed because I already kind of knew about the existential take it…. takes, but it was a blast and wonderful and amazing and I think everyone who likes rpg’s should play this game and Grigori is a huge…. sweetheart, of sorts.

#ask prompt #Anonymous #admiration-determination

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