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gojowsddy · 7 months

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Tipsy Invitation

𖨆♡𖨆 Rafayel x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ you planned to host a party for your friends at Rafayel's place, but everyone has cancel due to the sudden heavy snow. The party decor is pointless now, and you end up trapped by the storm in Rafayel's home...(inspired by rafayel's veiled whisper five star memory)

: ̗̀➛ TW: nsfw content, bondage, porn with plot, riding, fingering

: ̗̀➛ word count: 2.8k+

We spent countless hours decorating Rafayel's house for a party that turned out to be a complete waste of time due to the blizzard. You are sitting on the floor in front of the couch. You can feel the weight of exhaustion bearing down on you as you wearily take a sip of the delicious wine. You gaze out the window, watching the snow falling and wondering how long the storm will last.

"Can this really be a party when it's only us?" You murmured, taking in the tantalising aroma of the cake and red wine wafting through the air.

"You're right. It's a date then." Rafayel's lips curled into a sly smile as he teased.

"Those are two different things...!"

Rafayel chuckles, loving your flustered reaction, "Hold off on the alcohol for now. Didn't you prepare a lot of party games? Shouldn't we play first?"

"They're meant to be played with a lot of people.. I've practised my dance moves-"

As Rafayel strolls over to the radio, you notice a mischievous glint in his eyes. A soft, soothing melody emanates from the speakers, and he extends his hand towards you.

As the music fills the air, Rafayel pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist. Moving in perfect harmony, he leads you across the dance floor. With each step, his touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can feel your breaths mingling together, the heady aroma of red wine. It's as if you are under a spell, lost in the moment, lost in each other. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, joined together by an unbreakable thread of intoxication.

"Is this how you imagined the party would be?"

"...I don't know."

"Well, it's exactly what I had in mind. Buuut you'll probably feel a little queasy after drinking and spinning around, yeah?"

His hands rest on the small of your back, and his warmth seeps through the fabric of my clothes.

You can't tell if the heat is because of our dance or is it because of him.

You can only think about the scent of red wine.

You can feel his shirt against your body and his slow caresses on the back of your hand. They all seem to overwhelm your senses. Making you feel the dampening wetness growing in your panties.

"I'm feeling... a little thirsty," you muttered, trying to ignore the arousal that is burning inside you. Rafayel beckoned you towards the window and gestured over to the mini-fridge. He starts rummaging through its contents, searching for the perfect drink to quench our thirst.

"What do you wanna drink? There is some sweet stuff. Or maybe something light? Oh, I see sparkling water here."

"How about you mix one of your special drinks? I remember we've stocked up on plenty of cocktail ingredients." Your heart skips a beat as Rafayel looks my way, a mischievous grin playing on his lips while he tilts his head.

"My dear guest, alcohol isn't gonna make you less thirsty. You'll just be more drunk."

"Then make me something refreshing and won't get me drunker, please."

"If you insist. I'll do my best. Give me a moment."

Rafayel's hands moved with the precision of a seasoned bartender, as he grabbed two glass bottles and gave them a once-over. You found yourself captivated by the way he scooped some ice cubes and added them to the shaker. His hand closed around the shaker, holding it tightly as he gave it a vigorous shake. You couldn't help but notice how attractive his hands were. As you were lost in thought, a colourful, icy beverage appeared before you, snapping yourself back to reality.

"What's this?"

"It's sparkling fruit juice. And the best part? It quenches your thirst without getting you drunk. The bad news is that there is no alcohol."

"I ordered a cocktail. If there's no cocktail then what's the point."

"Sorry, sorry, the bartender here plays it by ear." Rafayel places a hand over his chest, leaning slightly to look apologetic. All the while, he wears a smile clearly for the spectacle.

"Well it's delicious, but it's still not what I ordered. If you can't make me another drink, you need to compensate me in a way that makes me happy." You decided to play along with his game. With a fierce expression on your face, you pushed your finger against Rafayel's chest, causing him to lose his balance and stumble backwards into a nearby chair. Breathing heavily, you watched him nudge a present away with his foot before taking my hand and giving me a troubled look.

"How should I make it up to you, my dear customer~?"

"Well..." Suppressing a grin, you reach for the satin ribbon that's been carelessly draped over the back of the chair. You move slowly around Rafayel, taking in his every detail. The way his broad shoulders fill out his crisp white shirt, the hint of stubble on his chiselled jawline, and the intense look in his purple-pink eyes. As you make a few more rounds, you start to wrap the ribbon around his torso, feeling the heat emanating from his body. The crimson colour of the ribbon is almost mesmerising, darker than the rich wine you had been drinking earlier.

"I choose you."

You hold the delicate ribbon, trying to tie it into a perfect bow. That's when you notice Rafayel's piercing gaze on you, and your heart races with anticipation. With a sly smile, he breaks the silence with a soft chuckle, "All right. Consider it compensation. I'm yours for the taking."

"...Why do I feel like I'm walking into a trap? I can't blindly accept this gift." The ribbons fall onto Rafayel. But because you denied him, an invisible tension grabs him. A strange playfulness is ignited in his gaze like he's about to pounce.

"You haven't even started unwrapping me. Am I gonna be thrown away just like that?"

"Oh, but I've seen this gift before. I don't need to unwrap it to know what it is."

"Really? You..you think you have me all figured out, do you?"

You realised that there was no need for me to answer the question. It was evident that he already knew the answer and what he was trying to achieve. At that moment, your fingers slowly crept behind the back of the chair, reaching for the stem of a rose that was resting there. Its deep, rich colour reminded me of a fine wine, and you couldn't resist picking it up and twirling it between your fingers.

"Hmm, I wonder where that came from."

You were sorely tempted to slap the cocky grin right off his face. However, you decided to be somewhat gracious and extend him a bit of kindness for the evening. Taking the rose that was in your hand, you gently rubbed it over Rafayel's sensitive ears, which were visibly flushed with heat. The redness that had overtaken his ears began to spread to his cheeks, creating a vivid flush that was impossible to ignore. You felt a sense of satisfaction at the sight of it.

"mhm..a-always, full of surprises, huh. You're good at catching people off guard." His breath hitched. A whimper escaped him, creating a symphony of desire that wrapped around you like an intoxicating mist.

You couldn't control the growing wetness in your pants and the anticipation of wanting to just fuck him on the spot was so irresistible. You wanted to tease him more and more. With a rose in your hand, you ran it across his chest, making him feel the petals brush against his clothed skin. You gently rubbed against where his nipples would be.

"n-ngh..mhm...I'm not sure who's suffering more - me or the flower." Rafayel squirmed restlessly on his chair, the soft petals of the rose that he had rubbed to his nipples caused him to release a breathy moan. It was so clear that his nipples were peeking through his shirt.

"C-can't you be a little more gentle?" His body is lumped restlessly on the chair, struggling to catch his breath while also trying to contain the growing pressure in his crotch. Your gaze follows the visible signs of arousal, starting at his flushed face and moving down to his throbbing cock poking against the fabric of his pants unsuccessfully hiding its desire. He shifts impatiently on the seat, clearly unable to resist the urge any longer. The sight of him struggling with both physical discomfort and overwhelming arousal only adds to your arousal. You can feel your heart rate accelerate as you watch him fidget and fight against the temptation.

"W-worried about b-breaking me? I'm not that fragile." He looked at me with begging eyes. You felt even more excited about the idea of 'breaking' him. However, thoughts lingered about not being enough to reach his satisfaction.

"Are you still concerned? I'm down for a slow, thorough inspection."

Your hand reaches around the back of the chair and your face meets with Rafayel, there is a sudden flash of light and a rush of energy that courses through your body. Your lips connect with his as you kiss him deeply inserting your tongue in his mouth, taking full control of his mouth. He feels warm against your skin, almost like it's pulsing with energy.

"All right, that's enough. I'll let you off the hook. Let me untie this - " Your eyes widened seeing that Rafayel grabbed your arm.

"When did you untie yourself?" A lump in your throat blocked you from speaking as your heart started racing so fast.

"You know there are plenty of old escape techniques on the Internet," Rafayel smirked, dragging your arm, and forcing you to sit on his lap. Your legs were shorter compared to Rafayel's long legs, making you spread your thighs and expose your wet panties.

Rafayel watches you intently, his gaze locked onto your every move. His cock throbs insistently against your panties. Despite knowing that giving in to your desires would mean submitting fully to Rafayel's control, the thought of riding his hardness is becoming increasingly captivating.

As you continue to struggle against his lap, your hands quickly find their way around Rafayel's neck. Your body starts to force itself to grind harshly onto his lap.

Your head fell back, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Your body forcefully presses against his lap, grinding with intensity. Your actions grow more desperate, as you feel yourself descending further into a state of bliss.

Rafayel's body was writhing with desire, his moans of pleasure echoing through the room. His eyes were dark and filled with lust, his cheeks flushed with red and the intensity of his need was noticeable. You could feel his stare on you, hot and hungry.

"pleasepleaseplease....raff...I want more-" you whined. Now it's Rafayel's turn to bring you down.

He slowly unzipped his jeans and lowered his boxers. As he freed his cock, you couldn't help but gasp in surprise at the sheer size of it. It was thick and throbbing, with a deep red tip that looked almost painful and the precum leaking down his tip. Your own body trembled with anticipation as he began to stroke himself, his movements slow and deliberate.

With a low growl, Rafayel closed the distance between you, his hand still working his shaft. He pressed his body against yours, his lips hot on your neck as he whispered dirty promises in your ear. You could feel his erection pressing against you, and you knew that you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me.

"please..r-rafayel..please.." you begged him desperately.

"hah..where did your confidence go..beg for it," he has that cocky grin again and you don't want to fall for it but you wanted him so bad right now.

"please..raf..fuck me...I want your dick inside me...make me your cumdump..pleasepleaseplease-" As he moved closer to you, you could feel your heart racing with anticipation. Your mind was a blur, unable to focus on anything except the overwhelming desire that was coursing through your body.

He snooks his fingers underneath your skirt, squishing one of your asscheeks before slapping it harshly. With his hand wrapped securely on your waist while his other hand plays with your panties. Pulling them side to side aiming for your sensitive area, making you attempt to close your thighs.

He brushed his fingers against your pants, pushing them aside to reveal your soaking cunt. His fingers traced along your clit, making you arch your back into him as he continued to rub your clit. It made it more difficult to shut your legs together.

"Here that? It's fucking soaking wet for me." He chuckles, making you bite your lips to not suppress a moan.

He enters both of his fingers into your cunt, you feel a rush of heat flood your body, making it impossible to think straight. You couldn't stop the whine that came out loudly and arched your back even more. In split seconds, Rafayel's fingers sped up his pace thrusting into you harshly, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every movement.

His fingers worked amazing the way he curled the tip of his fingers, successfully finding your g-spot and in seconds you were in a moaning mess, toes curled, head tilted to the side, it was driving you insane.

The silence was only filled with your moans and whines, which got louder every second, and the wet noises coming from your pussy. You begged him to go faster, desperate to reach your climax, but he refused to give you what you wanted. Instead, he pulled his hand away, leaving you gasping for air and trembling with frustration.

"Not gonna let you cum that quick," he said with a cunning smirk on his face. "I'll tell you when you can cum."

The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but you knew that the wait would be worth-

He thrust his cock into you, leaving you no time to think. You felt a surge of pleasure that left you moaning uncontrollably. It was stretching you out so much and it isn't even halfway in. You felt so full and so stuffed.

You waited for him to do something but he was only staring at your desperate reaction.

"W-what..what are you doing? Please move..plea-" Before you could finish your sentence Rafayel thrust his dick into you, making his dick press against your cervix. Rafayel's sudden movement caught you off guard, causing you to scream.

The sensation sent waves of pleasure throughout your body, and you instinctively arched your back in response to the intense stimulation. Your hands grab a fistful of his shirt trying to resist the pain.

You moaned loudly as you felt the weight of his thick shaft filling you up completely, your tight pussy clenching around his length.

"I-I...can't..t-take it any more..too f-full-" you couldn't form proper words as Rafayel continues to thrust his dick into you.

"Y-ye-..fuck..yes you can. L-loosen up, will you?" He stutters. Your gummy walls were making him absurd. The way it is sucking him in. The way it tightly suffocates his tip. He wraps his arms around your body, his chin lays on your shoulder and his eyes tightly shut. He just wants to stuff you full with his cum.

Rafayel couldn't control his thoughts. He suddenly manhandles you and forces you to be on the chair. Before you open your mouth to say something, he starts rummaging his dick in you. Forcefully, thrusting all his power into you. Your back is arched in a perfect 'C' shape and your toes are curled as he continuously fucks you hard. You couldn't stop moaning it was so fucking good sogoodsogoodsogood~. With each thrust, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"I-i'm closee...imcloseimclose..please..let me cum..please," you begged. Rafayel could explode right now from the look of your pleading face.

"Cum."

As Rafayel continued to thrust into you, you felt the string in your belly snap. The sensation was intense, and you couldn't help but close your eyes tightly shut. You were completely lost in the moment, and your body was responding uncontrollably. Your breath became ragged as you called out his name repeatedly, riding the waves of pleasure that coursed through you.

Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath, but Rafayel wasn't done yet. He continued to shove himself inside you, his movements becoming more urgent and forceful. His tip pressed against your cervix, a noticeable bulge poking through your abdomen, adding to the intense pleasure you were experiencing.

He was overstimulating you too much, you couldn't help but whine, "T-too much..please..i-its too much.."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as Rafayel continues to fuck you to reach his own climax.

As he continued to thrust into you, you felt your body respond in ways you never thought possible. Every nerve ending was on fire, and you were completely lost in the moment. You surrendered yourself to the pleasure, letting it consume you completely.

Finally, with one last thrust, Rafayel reached his own peak, cum squirted all over your stomach and collapsed onto you. You and Rafayel were left panting and gasping for air, your body still sticky and trembling.

"I-I’ll get you back, Rafayel.."

p.s: This is my first smut writing. Please tell me how it is and any tips on improving.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #smut #fem!reader #rafayel #minors dni #rafayel x mc #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut

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shiraishi-mai · 2 years

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[7:40pm]

“Where is he?” You asked softly. Your eyes roamed across the volleyball members occupying the hallway before looking back at the boy beside you.

Osamu looked at you with a grim look and stuck his thumb behind him. “Sitting in the locker room. There shouldn’t be anybody else in there right now.”

You nodded. “Thanks ‘Samu.”

He dipped his chin in response before continuing to pack his duffle bag. There was a somber tone amongst the team as they began to slowly make their way out of the building.

You headed to the locker room, slightly dragging your feet along the way. Once you were faced with the pale grey door, you found yourself hesitating to open it and laid your hand flat on its surface. Sighing, you turned around and leaned your back against it. What were you doing here?

“Sooo what’s going on there?” Your friend had asked a few weeks ago while grinning like a Cheshire cat. You both had just watched a yellow-haired boy cheerfully wave at you through the classroom window before heading to his own class.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you opted to stare straight ahead at the board.

“Oh c’mon. You and Miya have been acting all buddy-buddy recently.”

“Yep because we’re buddies.” You began to doodle on the corner of your notebook.

Your friend snorted. “When did that happen?”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at the memory of meeting Atsumu for the first time. Your friend was right - Atsumu and you used to have an awful relationship.

You had started Inarizaki a bit later than everyone else. Your family had decided to move into the area after your father had a job transfer, and so you found yourself the awkward new student a few months after the school year had begun. Volleyball tryouts had already passed, but the coach had seen you play at your previous middle school and graciously accepted you after giving you a chance to play a practice game with the rest of the team. The girls were amazing and you found yourself right at home with them - something you were thankful for since you weren’t looking forward to making friends from scratch.

You knew the boy’s volleyball team at Inarizaki was excellent, therefore when the captain needed someone to accompany her to run an errand to the other gym, you eagerly volunteered. You hadn’t had a chance to see them in action and were dying to get a peek at their practice to see just how good they were.

An orange court identical to the one the girls practised in greeted your eyes as you both stepped in the building and your captain turned to you upon entering the gym.

“Just wait here while I go talk to their coach!”

You nodded and curiously began to watch the practice. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking and balls hitting the floor put you at ease and a starstruck expression crossed your face as you saw a tall, darker-skinned boy spike.

“Oi.”

Another boy with a leaner figure and slanted eyes spiked with a weird twist to his form and your eyes widened. That was unusual. Impressive.

“Oi.”

I KNOW someone is NOT trying to get my attention by saying ‘Oi’. Who is this uncouth-

You turned to see a boy with yellow hair and an unamused expression on his face.

“Yes?” you said sweetly.

“Cheerleading tryouts aren’t in this gym,” he said shortly.

The fuck?

Okay, technically you and your captain were wearing ponytail holders with ribbons in Inarizaki colours and you both hadn’t changed out of your regular PE tracksuit, so you could maybe see where he might have gotten that.

“Excuse me?”

“This is a volleyball court.” He spoke in a tone that implied that you were a bit slow.

No shit Sherlock. “I’m not looking for tryouts.”

He groaned in exasperation and put his hands on his hips. “Well if you’re looking to watch our practice, we can’t have an audience today. We’re going over some serious stuff and don’t need any distractions.” He turned and left you with your hand half raised and mouth open before you could respond.

“These pigs just think they can crash practice when they don’t even care about volleyball…”

Pigs.

Pigs??

Who the fuck does he think he is?? This little-

Okay, you know what, breathe y/n. Don’t do anything rash. Remember what your therapist said.

You felt a faint tap on your foot and looked down to see a stray volleyball had rolled over to you.

I really shouldn’t. You thought, picking up the ball and ran a finger along the curves and dips.

This is a bad idea. You tossed the ball in the air.

Well, when life gives you lemons. You hopped and felt a satisfying smack as you hit the ball towards the back wall.

Now, the intention was to hit the area beside the offensive boy and give him a little scare, however you forgot that your hits tended to curve a bit (a problem you were trying to fix).

So you watched, horrified, as the ball flew straight towards the boy.

It was almost like the trajectory itself was in slow motion but sped up as it impacted and there was a dull thud sound as it hit his back.

“OW!”

He turned around, eyes flashing and mouth curled angrily.

“Oh god I’m so sorry.”

Is what you meant to say. But you had your pride and also had kind of already committed to going down this path.

“L/n y/n,” you said, matching his glare. “[insert favourite vball position here]. Nice to meet you.”

The noises from the gym all halted and the air was still as the other members of the team stared at the scene.

The boy with the slanted yellow eyes and middle parted hair snorted which prompted the boy beside him to begin laughing as well. You were stunned to see the same face except framed with grey hair.

There’s another one??

There was a sudden ‘eep’ noise and you felt someone rush over beside you. “Oh my goodness I’m so sorry.”

Your captain grabbed the back of your head and wrenched your head down into a bow. “We’re so sorry. RIGHT?”

You yelped when you paused and she sharply tugged on one ear.

“Yes, my apologies.” You muttered.

The girl dragged you out of the gym berating you but sighed and ran a hand down her face as you recounted what had happened.

“Honestly I guess I can’t blame you too much. That was Miya Atsumu.”

“Oooh he’s one of the Miya twins.” They were first-years like you but already quite famous around the school.

She nodded. “Osamu is fairly nice but Atsumu is known for being…difficult.”

You snorted. “Seems like it.”

“He’s a damn good setter though,” she continued.

“Still,” you frowned. “This sport is about teamwork. You can’t be too difficult or else the team can’t function.”

“Agreed,” she said before narrowing her eyes and looking at you from the side. “Though I’ll make you eat your words if that temper of yours makes an appearance on our team.”

You shuddered before walking quickly ahead of her back to the girls’ gym.

—-------------------------------------------------------

After that, your interactions with Atsumu Miya didn’t get much better.

It didn’t help that he was in the class next door to yours. Everytime you met in the halls (which happened a good amount of times during the week) snide remarks were exchanged.

“Oh look, it's the school’s kpop star,” you said drily when you exited the classroom for lunch and found yourself, yet again, in front of him. “Raaah raah.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t you expect to hear crowd noises everywhere you go? You’re always strutting around like you’re the shit and eating up the attention people give you. Well until they start messing with your serves,” you smirked. “It’s too bad you aren’t good enough to not be so easily distracted.”

He looked at his twin beside him. “I told you, squealing pigs.”

“At least I don’t go around grunting like a giant ape.”

The lanky boy whose name you learned was Suna tried to hide a snicker behind his hand.

“Well I almost didn't give someone a CONCUSSION.”

“Oh please,” you turned away from him and waved your hand in a shooing motion. “Your head is too thick to get a concussion.”

“Tch more like your spike is too weak for it.”

“What did you say??” You whipped back around only for a teammate of yours to magically materialise and drag you away by the collar. News of your ostensible assault to Atsumu had spread amongst both teams and your incredible dislike for him was well-known by now.

“I fucking dare you to show up to practice Miya and see for yourself it that’s true!”

“Hai hai that’s enough,” your teammate said tiredly and you crossed your arms, fuming, as you saw him sniggering before turning the corner.

The students in your hallway quickly became accustomed to your face-offs, opting to give you two a wide berth whenever they occurred. Suna often stopped by to film and told you he was going to make a compilation of the best 10 fights at the end of the year.

“He’s not that bad you know,” Osamu said, sipping on his drink. Your eyes rolled up to him from where you were lying down on the bench beside him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“He’s…passionate. With a one-track mind. I think it’s good you’re so direct to him. It’s the only way that really gets through to his stupid brain anyway.”

You laughed. “How are you guys so different?” Osamu was in your class and at first you had been wary of him - he did share Atsumu’s genes after all - but were relieved to find out he was actually super chill.

“I didn’t wanna end up like him.” He said simply and you chuckled again before frowning.

“It’s a shame…he plays beautifully though,” you said under your breath.

You didn’t notice Osamu side-eye you quickly with an eyebrow raised.

Inarizaki had one of their games recently and you were honestly a bit curious to see how the evil Miya played and also so you could see if he made any mistake for your own satisfaction. However, you had to admit that Atsumu was talented. He was reckless and got ahead of himself but his sets were perfect. Most of the time at least. They were the type that you knew spikers were itching to hit and you wondered what it’d be like to play with someone like him.

Definitely a shame.

—-------------------------------------------------

Of all things, the school’s annual fall event was the reason your relationship with Atsumu improved.

Your friend’s class was putting on a production and she asked you to help paint some of the set pieces as a few people had canceled on her last minute.

“y/nnnnn pleasseee” your friend whined.

“I spend 90% of my life at school and the one free Saturday I have YOU WANT ME TO BE AT SCHOOL?” She grinned, enthusiastically nodding.

“You got some nerve-”

“It’s not my fault my classmates are lazy…I always get stuck doing busy work” she interrupted, shooting you her best puppy eyes. You bit your tongue as you wanted to retort that it was her fault for being the class’s student rep.

You sighed. “Okay fine.”

She squealed and clapped her hands. “Perfect, meet me at 1pm.”

A pit had formed in your stomach that you couldn’t explain as you opened the door to the auditorium. When your friend spotted you, she brightened and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you behind the stage. Large set pieces that outlined what you think was a castle and some trees were set-up but you barely noticed as your eyes found an offensive figure.

Miya Atsumu turned his head to the side, flashing you his signature smile and opened his mouth.

“Nope,” you said and turned on your heel and headed back towards the front. Your friend quickly ran and stood in front of you.

“What is Miya doing here??”

“Apparently he and Osamu crashed into the principal while they were racing to the cafeteria and knocked him down so he’s forcing him to help out as punishment.

“Why is he the only one in there? Where’s Osamu??”

“Technically Atsumu is the one who knocked the teacher over. Osamu managed to skirt away in time so he wasn’t seen.”

You groaned. “I can’t do this. Honestly, we might end up ruining your scenery fighting or something.”

She glared at you. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You winced as she stared at you for a moment with a pensive expression on her face.

“What?”

“Maybe you should hang out with him. Both of you play volleyball…just talk about that.”

“I don’t want to talk to him period.”

She snorted and said, “Just be open-minded. And don’t kill each other. Or destroy my set pieces.” She quickly added at the end.

“No promises.”

You walked back and went straight to the paint rollers, blatantly ignoring the heavy gaze trained on you. Picking it up, you went to the end of the half-painted castle furthest away from him and began to roll.

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “That side is done.”

You didn’t say anything and scooted a little to where it was unpainted.

“I don’t bite.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you did.”

“Shouldn’t I be more afraid of you?”

You glared at him and instead began to talk to one of the other people painting beside you. There were only three others and they had been fairly quiet at the hostile energy radiating between you two.

However, Atsumu remained eerily quiet as he worked on his set piece and as you focused on yours, you found that time passed fairly quickly. You were finishing up and went to get another paint bucket when you blanched upon seeing Atsumu’s work.

“Oh my god please don’t tell me this is all you’ve accomplished.”

“This is harder than it looks!” He said defensively and you bit back a laugh. When he had whipped around to retort, he revealed that he had paint smudged on one of his cheeks as well as a bit of splatter on his shirt.

“It’s straight lines Miya. I know you act like an ape but I didn’t expect you to have a monkey brain too.”

He opened his mouth with an indignant face but stopped when you stood beside him.

“The lines go this way - see then it looks like bricks.” You brushed lightly on the cardboard.

Atsumu looked at you, eyes wandering around your facial features. He’d never seen you up this close before and without a scrunched up expression on it. Your elbows were almost touching and he frowned.

“She’s pretty ya know.” Osamu grinned as if he knew a secret. It pissed Atsumu to see that expression on his face.

“So what? She’s mean and bitchy.”

“Oh c’mon. It’s partly your fault she acts that way too. She can be sweet sometimes.”

“L/n. Sweet. Right.”

“What, you don’t want my help?” You felt your hackles raise at his frown.

He shook his head. Your eyes were lit with a bright fire - not necessarily one that was hostile but rather with a lively quality in them - and the stage lights cast shadows across the planes of your face in a way that made you look both glowing and vibrant.

Pretty.

His eyes widened slightly and he shook his head a bit to get out of his daze. He must be crazy. The fumes from the paint had probably made him a bit high and out of his mind. Right?

—---------------------------------------------------

After that, your relationship with Atsumu seemed to improve. Your face-offs slowly became more light-hearted and you both began to chat about volleyball, schoolwork, how Osamu and Suna bully him and on and on. He was surprisingly funny and by that, he was easy to tease and rile up. The two of you still fought but it was more so bickering over whether horror movies were better than action movies rather than actual malice.

He’d come to watch a few of your practices and even began going to games if he’d finish his first. You’d find him, arms leaning against the railings of the second-floor seats and a shit-eating grin gracing his lips. You groaned internally when you saw the flash of blonde in the corner of your eye but refused to take your eyes off the service.

There was a yell from the stands. “In!”

You froze momentarily watching the ball hit just outside the line.

“Out!” The referee called.

“ATSUMU MIYA.”

You whipped your head to the offensive boy and mouthed an aggressive “GET OUT.”

All you got in response were mini finger hearts.

Mentally facepalming, you turned your attention back to the game and grumbled about him being lucky that this was just a practice match. You’d definitely get back at him on the walk home later.

Yes, indeed, Atsumu had begun to walk you home. He’d wave Osamu off and claim that he needed to walk off his post-practice high and it was getting darker quickly now anyway and he couldn’t make fun of you if you died on the way home. Most of the time, you guys continued the bickering from the day and joked about stupid things, and sometimes, when practice ran late deep into the night, the two of you would just walk side-by-side in comfortable silence.

And honestly, being friends with Atsumu Miya was nice.

—--------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, your heart betrayed you and you could pinpoint the moment it did.

You were watching the boys play a match and Osamu had gone in for a spike only to change it into a set straight to Aran. Atsumu looked stunned momentarily before he let out a boisterous laugh. The sound was just like a child’s - a refreshing sound full of joy and pure amusement - and you could practically feel his adrenaline amp up another notch.

Aran scored the point (ofc) and the team gave each other excited high fives before the buzzer rang, signalling the other team calling a time out. You watched him chatter away upon reaching the sidelines and Aran gave him a slap on the back in annoyance while Suna shook his head. You chuckled at their antics but your smile slowly faded as your eyes found the blonde setter again.

The slight chill from the stadium’s A/C,

the feel of your hand gripping the end of a yellow cone,

the excited chatter of your classmates beside you,

the itch at the end of your fingertips to hold that blue and yellow sphere.

You felt your heart beat painfully when you heard Atsumu’s laugh again.

If you learned anything about Atsumu, it was that he was passionate and wore emotions on his sleeve. Life was simple for him - he said what he was thinking and unashamedly acted the way he felt. When he was elated, his joy was infectious and his face would shine excitedly about some new cool thing he pulled off. He was blunt, but honest and you felt a sense of trust in him because of it.

And he had his kind moments.

Once, he found you sitting on the lowest bleacher in an empty gym after a match when your team had lost a crucial game to qualify for the quarterfinals.

Your eyes blankly stared at the ground as you absentmindedly spun a volleyball in your hands.

“You guys put up a good fight.”

You snorted in response. “I could’ve done more.”

“The team worked hard - you worked hard all year. Just get better and kick ass in the fall.”

“Yeah I tried my best and all it got me was there. I made so many mistakes.” You shook your head. “I should have hustled after more balls…I missed the timing on a few blocks…geez,” you inhaled sharply and leaned back on your hands. “I feel so incompetent. What have I been doing this entire time?”

“Hey I didn’t stay after all those sessions just for you to complain they didn’t help.”

You wrinkled your forehead. “Sorry, that’s fair.” Looking up, you gazed into his warm brown eyes, you smiled softly. “Thank you for helping me.”

He stared at you hard for a moment before turning his head away. “This just means I’m forcing you to train harder next year.”

You groaned. “For fucks sake.”

“But really,” he continued. “You aren’t incompetent. You’re like - you’re good.” He said a bit lamely before hesitantly continuing. “You’re good at volleyball, get good grades and get along with people easily. You’re better than most of these scrubs by far.”

“And I’m pretty.” You swept your hair over your shoulder jokingly.

There was a pause. “And you’re pretty.”

“Not to gas you up or anything,” he quickly added.

You giggled, ignoring the sudden increased palpitation in your chest before responding, “Aw since when is Atsumu Miya a sweetie.”

“Shut up, I take it back.” He stood up and plucked the ball from your hands. “C’mon you need to practice serving.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My shoulder hurts.”

“Yeah and your serves sucked so let’s go.”

You were pulled back into the game when the crowd surrounding you stood up, roaring in delight after Suna whipped a point in. Atsumu punched the air, roaring with them and you felt your chest squeeze painfully.

Oh god.

—--------------------------------------------------

Just as you came to terms with how you felt, things soured with the blonde Miya.

Atsumu was passionate and wore his heart on his sleeve. This meant that when he was upset, he was upset. Essentially he turned into a stubborn child.

You were hesitating to open the door because you hadn’t talked to Atsumu in weeks. You were just as stubborn as him and maintained it wasn’t your fault. Both your heads would turn the other way and there was no more bickering - just an icy silence.

And it all started with a stupid bet.

Atsumu had been teasing you for weeks about how someone seemed to daydream more during class recently and it seemed to result in him somehow getting a higher grade than you on a quiz. In response, you shot back that you’d beat him at midterms.

“Okay bet,” he said easily.

“And if I win,” he crossed his arms and tilted his head with a smirk. “You have to wear the Inarizaki cheerleader uniform AND yell ‘GO ATSUMU’ during our game.”

You looked at him unamused. “I thought you didn’t like people distracting you.”

“During my serves. Do NOT do it during my serve,” his face darkened.

“Okay okay moody. But if I win,” an evil look crossed your face. “You have to do the same thing.”

Suna’s eyes widened. “I would literally pay money to see that.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows raised. “You want me to yell ‘GO ATSUMU’?”

You blinked at him in response. “This will be so easy.”

“The pom poms would look so small,” mumbled Suna quietly as Atsumu yelped indignantly.

Your eyelids pressed shut.

I’m so done with the boy’s volleyball team at this school.”

However, what you didn’t know was that Atsumu, though lacking in other areas, was fairly good at math when he tried. This, and the lack of sleep you claimed to have, resulted in him scoring a lousy 2 points above you.

Hence you stood in a uniform, pom–poms in hand and a bow in your hair at the game that would qualify Inarizaki for the fall tournament.

“Suna, please tell me you got this on camera.”

The tall boy waved his phone up. “Oh yeah, with many different angles of her scrunched up angry face. You know-,” He leaned down, hands placed in his pockets, to your eye level. “You’d be prettier if you smiled.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “Suna Rintaro you did not just say that. It’s so offensive and plays into traditional gender roles and on behalf of all girls I should-”

“Ap-buh-uh,” his slanted eyes turned upward into crescent moons as he straightened with an easy smile. “Just a joke, princess. You genuinely look good.”

You huffed in annoyance. “I look good in anything.”

You waited for a comment from the annoying setter beside Suna but just found him blinking at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the moment,” he said with an oh so innocent smile.

“Creep.”

“Hey I’m not the one who stinks at math.” He threw his hands up in defence.

“TWO POINTS MIYA,” you moved to smack the back of his head and he dodged easily before speed walking down the hall.

“Oh what’s that I think we have to go warm-up,” he exclaimed loudly before smirking. “Don’t forget to cheer me on.”

“UGH.” You sighed in defeat.

“So when are you confessing your undying love for him?”

You squawked at Suna in protest. “I do not - I- it’s Atsumu - he -”

“I got it, breathe y/n,” he ruffled your hair and gave you a peace sign in farewell before walking off after Atsumu.

“Cheer for your guy loudly Ms. Cheerleader.”

You huffed and you felt a hand slip into yours. Your head spun before you relaxed, recognising one of the regular cheerleaders behind you. She had been kind enough to lend you her spare uniform and teach you some of the cheers.

“Y/n we have to get to our seats!”

“Yay,” you said. Your voice fell flat despite trying to sound enthusiastic.

She laughed and began to tug you into the gym. “Aw c’mon, you look gorgeous. Your boyfriend must be pumped to have you cheer for him!”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Hmm sure,” she said and made a knowing face at you.

“He isn’t!”

“Oh look, they're warming up. Let’s go to our seats before they start.”

And so you let yourself chant along with the girls beside you, throwing up your pom poms a little late but trying your best nonetheless. Atsumu was on fire as usual, syncing perfectly with Suna and Aran. Osamu made a few service errors, but you knew that he had been a bit ill the past few days. Some of your friends from the volleyball team even joined you and all of you screamed your support from the stands.

Finally the match came to an end and naturally Inarizaki won. You were so proud of the team and as they went around to high-five the other team your friend turned to you.

“y/n, we’re going to the mall to hang out after. Wanna join us?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, your gaze fixed upon the team below. “I think I can join you later. I want to say hi to the boys before I go.”

She giggled. “Of course, gotta see Atsumu before you go.”

“Hey! I want to see Osamu and Suna too!”

She simply laughed. “You’re practically bouncing in your seat. Hurry up and go say bye, we can wait for you outside.”

You nodded in response and took off towards the locker room. Normally, the guys would have a brief talk before changing and Atsumu would be standing outside, a smile on his face and with a slight wave of his hand. You’d thought about changing first to spare yourself from his teasing but honestly, you secretly thought you looked kinda cute in the uniform and wanted him to see you in it again.

A sudden hand clamped around your wrist before you could make it down the corridor and you turned your head in confusion, locking eyes with a stranger. You recognised him as one of the players on the opposing team.

“What the hell are you doing?” You nearly squawked.

“I couldn’t help but notice you in the stands today and was wondering why our side didn’t have any supporters as gorgeous as you,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks for the compliment but please don’t touch me.”

“I saw you with the team before the game too. You’re a popular girl~”

“So what?” Trying to calm your rising panic and you attempted to rip your arm away from him but his grip was too strong.

“What’s wrong? You seem to be already whoring yourself out to them so what’s the problem with one more.”

“Fuck you,” you spit and thrashed against him. You reached your other hand up to slap his face but found yourself pinned against the lockers.

Your eyes widened as he leaned his face toward you with a fake smile plastered on your face. The feeling of being so helpless made your blood run cold and you froze, unable to understand what was actually going on. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself to headbutt him when you heard a loud crack. Your eyes snapped open and you saw the boy holding his cheek and a fuming Atsumu was standing in front of him. You felt a pair of gentle arms slowly pull you away from the two and you looked up to see Suna had wrapped his arms lightly around you, his gaze flatly looking at the other boy.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

You nodded faintly but you were focused on Atsumu’s face. His face - you had never seen any expression even close to that. Fury was radiating from him as he roughly shoved the boy against the locker and raised his arm again.

You wrenched yourself free from Suna’s grip and ran to stand by Atsumu.

“That’s enough Atsumu!” You gripped the arm that he had balled into a fist. “I’m okay.”

“Miya look at me!” you said when he didn’t reply. “Please!”

He finally dragged his eyes away from the boy and you shivered as he focused his glare on you.

“It’s fine,” you repeated softly and he thankfully put his arm down.

“He isn’t worth you getting kicked off the team,” you continued firmly and Atsumu finally let go of the boy whose face had gone white as Osamu showed up. The trio stood angrily in front of him and you realised in that moment they were quite intimidatingly big.

“Don’t show your face in front of us again or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Atsumu spit.

“C’mon Atsumu,” Osamu pushed his twin away and roughly pushed him in the direction opposite of the player.

“Don’t touch me,” he said growling.

“Atsumu,” you began cautiously as you trailed after him outside the exit doors. “Atsumu is your hand okay?”

“Just what the fuck were you doing?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you just standing there? Why the hell were you not fighting back?”

“I was fighting back!” you said, eyes flashing in anger. “I just froze up for a second! Heaven forbid I was fucking scared.”

He shook his head as if your words were bouncing off of him. “How stupid are you? You’re always doing this - not taking care of yourself and acting all airheaded and zoning out. It’s a goddamn chore to watch out for you!”

“Nobody asked you to watch out for me,” your voice increased to match his.

“Maybe if you stopped daydreaming like an idiot you’d start playing like an actual decent player instead of just sleeping on the court. Hell maybe your team would be able to stop being shit enough to fucking qualify for nationals for once.”

“Dude that’s enough,” Osamu looked at him incredulously.

You took a step back. Atsumu knew better than anyone else how hard on yourself you are, especially about volleyball. You had been overstressed recently as your grades were suffering because you kept staying so late to keep practising and you felt like you were drowning trying to balance everything.

Your arms came up to wrap themselves around you protectively.

The anger drained out of his face almost comically fast. “Y/n,” he said, a hint of fear on his face.

You started to back away and shrugged nonchalantly.

“No no, you know what you’re right,” you hated how your voice came out shakily. “It’s my fault that someone harassed ME, it’s MY fault our team keeps losing, and it’s MY damn fault that I’m not strong enough to have it together all the time.”

“Y/n that’s not what I mea-.”

“No, that's exactly what you were saying,” you said, cutting him off. “Fuck you Atsumu.” Tears pricked at your eyes and you blinked them away, refusing to let him see you cry.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

The group of you all shifted to see your friends cautiously looking at you. “We heard yelling and you never came out so we were worried.”

“Yep,” you said, attempting to sound cheerful. “Everything’s good. Let’s go, I’m finished here.”

“y/n,” Atsumu said with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I’ll see you guys around.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of the boys and simply sped off towards your friends.

“That was a low blow,” Osamu shook his head.

Atsumu stared after your retreating figure before groaning and banged his fist against the locker. “I’m so fucked.”

—------------------------------

And that’s the last time you really talked to Atsumu. He made multiple attempts to talk to you in school but always found you surrounded by your friends. They looked at him reproachfully and you were grateful to have such great people supporting you. He tried to confront you a couple of times before and after practice but your captain always made sure to kick him out of the gym and after you would practically sprint home before the boys’ had finished their practice.

“He’s pretty hostile nowadays,” Osamu sighed from beside you. He’d found you hiding on the rooftop during lunch one day.

“What a surprise.”

“He’s beating himself up for it for sure though.”

“Miya, are you defending your brother for once,” you tried to joke.

“I dunno,” he leaned against his arms behind him. “You know how he gets. He’s an ass for sure but he was so worried that day. I’m not sure I blame him entirely though. It’d be infuriating to see anyone in that position. Let alone the girl he -” he paused. “Let alone our friend.”

There was a silence long enough you felt Osamu glancing at you repeatedly.

You really weren’t upset with Atsumu. At first, you were admittedly a bit scared of him - you’d never seen that side of him before. BUt you realised that it was probable that the anger was never directed at you. He defended you without a second thought and likely risked a suspension. Atsumu had supported you these past few months and had been a good, albeit kind of annoying, friend. He had his moments - enough so that you had fallen for him. Was it fair that you cut him out of your life?

“I miss him.” you admitted and tucked your knees against your chest. “I don’t really know how to talk to him though. I just keep hearing his words and I’m scared, like what if he loses his temper and says something hurtful again.”

Osamu nodded. “I can’t promise ‘Tsumu won’t get mad again or say something hurtful and you definitely shouldn’t have to deal with it or make excuses for him. But he cares for you a lot and he doesn’t know how to be concerned since he’s emotionally stupid.”

“Also,” he finally added. “Ma beat him with a spoon when she found out what happened so the likelihood of him doing it again seems very low.”

You giggled. “Aw Mama Miya putting the fear of god in her boys.”

“Mama Miya is very scary.” Osamu made a face. “She’s probably the only person Atsumu will listen to.”

Your giggles rang out across the rooftop and Osamu huffed in amusement. As the sounds faded, your eyebrows drew together. You just needed time. You’d get over his words - they were empty after all - but until you could just see him for the boy you liked again, it’d be better to take a break from seeing him.

—----------------------------------------------------------

A few months passed and Atsumu largely left you alone after a while. You could still feel his eyes on you if he passed by your classroom and you gave quick nods in his direction when you waved at Osamu and Suna.

And then suddenly, here you found yourself after a game, knowing that he was probably in a shitty mood and asking yourself if you were willing to have him lash out at you again. The men’s volleyball team had gone to nationals and lost at the quarterfinals. You had given him a quick good luck after you stopped by to check on Osamu and Suna before the game but had screamed your lungs out cheering him on during the matches. You were shocked and your heart dropped when they lost after fighting so hard to break the tie.

You knew he was taking it hard and would be blaming himself for everything.

How is he? You’d texted Osamu.

Not good. We’re leaving him alone.

Yikes is he being hard on you guys?

Nah tbh he’s p down and not saying much.

The corners of your lips turned downward as you stared at the text. Before you knew it, your feet had led you to the team where they had directed you here.

You took a deep breath and opened the door praying Atsumu was still in there. He was your friend, the guy you had fallen for, and a source of comfort for you when you were having a tough time. It didn’t even matter if he had harsh words - you wanted to be there for him.

The tall blonde was sitting on the bench, his arms bracing his back, and a towel covering his face.

“‘Tsumu.”

No response.

“‘Tsumu.” You called again, standing in front of him.

“Not a good time, princess.”

You reached a shaky hand out to place on his shoulder.

You heard him inhale and a warm hand lifted to cover yours. The other came up to place itself on your hip and his head lolled forward onto your stomach. Your unoccupied hand gently began to rub small circles on his back.

It oddly felt relaxing in that position and you didn’t feel anxious. It reminded you of those quiet walks home where there was a muted comfort between the two of you.

“I’m not going to tell you ‘it's just one of those days’ and anybody gets them. While it’s true, you aren’t ‘anybody’. The standard for you is high - you set it yourself after all. But you always pull through.” You gave a little laugh. “You’re a great guy. That’s why all the people in your life stick with you no matter how callous and insensitive you can get.” You rolled back the towel so you could see his face.

“You too?” His eyes peered intensely into yours.

“Yep. Me too.”

“M’sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Please don’t be mad anymore.”

“I’m not,” you said, your face softening but then frowned. “But I’m not sure if I forgive you yet.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” He half-heartedly gave you a crooked smile.

“Dummy,” you shook your head, “I missed you.”

He laughed, getting up and pulling you into a hug. The two of you stood, smiling idiotically at each other.

“Is this a bad time to mention that Suna says you have a crush on me.”

“What???”

You tried to untangle yourself from him but he merely squeezed you tightly in response.

“Take all the time you need. Just let me know when it’s okay to ask you out properly, alright?”

You groaned and buried your face into his chest.

“Okay? Hello y/n are you there? y/n?”

“Fine, shut up, I'll let you know.”

Fin.

#for the record #i love cheerleading #not roasting them #im just a volleyball player #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu angst #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya #hq atsumu #osamu miya #inarizaki #suna rintaro #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic

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dragon-kazansky · 6 months

Text

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Nine - The little things

☆☆☆

You're sitting on the steps of Dream's throne while he reads about a girl named Rose Walker.

Morpheus coaxed you into using your human form a little more often. As a gift, he gave you a wardrobe full of outfits. You were wearing a pair of shiny black boots. You had been practising how to tie the laces. Matthew would undo them with his beak so you could tie them again.

This was all part of you trying human things, no matter how mundane they seemed.

"What have you tried so far?" Jessamy asks, flying in.

"Um, let's see, I tried an apple when we were with Death the other day. Hob bought me a coffee, that was nice. Lucienne has been teaching me how to dance."

"Dance?" Morpheus asks, looking up from the book.

"Yes. She suggested I might try and find a hobby for myself, so we went through some stuff and settled on dancing. She's very good, you know."

"Is she?" Dream sounds amused.

You nod.

Morpheus puts the book down and stands up. He walks down the steps until he reaches you and holds out his hand. You look up at him with slight confusion.

"Dance with me."

You feel your heart skip a beat. You stare at his hand for a few long moments before you remember he's waiting. You reach out slowly and place your hand in his.

Morpheus smiles softly.

He guides you off the steps and then gently pulls you in close, but not too close.

"We don't have any music."

"We don't need music." He says.

He leads. You follow. You don't even look down at your feet as you dance with him. His eyes stay locked on yours.

You're not entirely sure you understand what's happening. How has it come to this? Once upon a time, you never would have dared think of Dream in this way. He was always just your king, your creator, your Dream Lord.

This was something out of a fairytale.

Matthew and Jessamy sit on the steps and watch you both. They can see this connection that has been building between you both. It's clear as day.

"Are they-?" Matthew starts to ask, but Jessamy hits him with her wing and shuts him up.

The dance continues right up until Lucienne returns. She has been out taking note of everyone who had returned to the Dreaming, and who was still missing.

You take a step away from Morpheus. He doesn't even look at Lucienne as she comes over. His eyes linger on you and how shy you have become.

As a raven, you would have no issue talking back at him. As a human you seem so sheepish around him.

He wonders if you feel it too.

"My Lord." Lucienne looks between you both. She realises she jas walked in on something, but she must speak to Morpheus.

"I, uh... I'm going to try out more stuff..."

You smile softly at Lucienne as you rush past her. Jessamy flies after you.

He does not look away until you've completely disappeared from sight. He turns his attention back to Lucienne who is looking right at him with her brows raised.

"Go on."

"I have completed the census you have requested, Lord Morpheus."

"Good, and?"

"I have accounted for 11,062 of them."

"Wow, someone's been busy," Matthew chimes in.

"There are a handful of new entites." Lucienne says.

"That is to be expected." Morpheus goes through the census.

"But... three of the Major Arcana are gone."

Morpheus looks up at her. "Name them."

"The first is Gault."

The first window changes to reflect the missing Nightmare.

"A Nightmare who. I must say, I never trusted."

"She is a shape-changer. It is not in her nature to be trustworthy. Who else?"

"The Corianthian."

That was a given. Morpheus had failed long ago to bring him back.

The second window changes to reflect him.

"I assumed as much. Still feeding on the dreamers he was meant to serve."

"Yes."

"The last?"

"The last is Fiddler's Green."

Now that was unexpected.

"Fiddler's Green?"

The last window depicts the lush greenery of which was once Fiddler's Green.

"That is passing strange. He is, after all, vavasor of his own dominion and always so reliable."

"I know."

"This is my fault.vhad I been here, fulfilling my function-"

"It was not your fault, my lord."

"No? Then whose?"

"I am afraid there is yet more news." Lucienne says. "Gossip, really, but..."

"Go on."

"There are rumours among the dream folk... of a vortex. Perhaps you might wish to investigate."

The rumours are quite true. There is a vortex." He confirms. "A true annulet. The first of this era."

"Then you must hunt for it, sir. It must be controlled."

"The vortex is a she, Lucienne."

Morpheus shows her Rose Walker. As of at the moment, she is not a danger. He intends to use Rose to gather his missing Dreams.

Lucienne is unsure of all of this.

Matthew offers to go keep an eye on Rose. Morpheus agrees. There was a time he would send you, but he would quite like to keep you in the Dreaming for now. He wants you to explore your human side some more.

☆☆☆

"Is it nice?" Jessamy asks, watching you brush your hair in the mirror.

"It feels nice through my hair." You say.

"Not the brush, silly."

You look at her reflection. "What then?"

"Falling in love."

You stop brushing and turn in your chair to look at her, shock and confusion written all over your face. "What do you mean?"

She chuckles softly. "You and Lord Morpheus."

"What about me and Lord Morpheus?"

Jessamy flies over to the dressing table you are sitting at and looks up at you through the mirror. "You're falling in love with him, aren't you?"

"What? No! Don't be silly." You can't believe she would ever say anything like that.

"What? You're trying to me you don't feel anything toward him?" She cocks her head to the side.

"That would be ludicrous!" You gasp.

"Why?"

"Why? Our lord has not had a partner romantically in so long. His relationships end terribly. Which is a shame. He is such a good man. At least in my eyes. Yeah, he's a little emotionally constipated, but I am certain when he loves he loves with his whole being, and I am not about to hurt him."

"Why would you hurt him?" Jessamy asks.

"I don't think the Endless are meant to love."

"They must do. If not people, then some other aspect. Did you not say Death loves her job because she is there for the people when their time is up? That's a type of love."

"It's not the same..."

You sink down in your chair slightly. "I refuse to fall in love with him."

"I think it's too late." Jessamy flies up and pecks you softly. You wave her off you and watch her fly away again.

"You're wrong..." You whisper. No one hears you.

☆☆☆

"What are you doing?"

You turn to find Morpheus watching you. His lips are curled into a tiny smile. You hadn't heard him enter your room.

"Um, trying on some outfits. Lucienne said you made me even more clothes."

"I assumed you would like a selection." He looks at the outfits he had created for you.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to spend some time together? You could perhaps try more human things. Lucienne mentioned you hadn't really experienced much in your human form."

"Oh, I don't want be any trouble."

"You are no trouble. Matthew is keeping an eye on Rose Walker for me, and the Dreaming is doing rather well. I would very much like to spend some time with you again." He speaks softly.

You gaze at him. You hadn't expected him to say anything of the sort. "Okay."

"Come with me. We shall explore the dreams of others unnoticed and try out anything you wish. Say the word, and I shall find us a dream."

You follow him.

You've never actually done this before, travelled dreams. That was his thing. He could enter dreams unnoticed if he wanted to, and the people dreaming would be none the wiser.

"What would you like to do?" He asks.

"I... hm." You're not entirely sure. You try to think of something the humans enjoy doing. "What about... ice cream?"

"Ice cream?" He asks, a tone of amusement laced in his voice. You nod. "Very well then."

Morpheus takes your hand in his and guides you through the Dreaming. He finds exactly what he's looking for. A young girl in Italy is having a dream of the ice cream parlour her father takes her too. Morpheus hides from her view as he takes an ice cream and gives it to you.

You look at it. It's cold in your hand. It feels real for a dream, but you supposed, in a sense, dreams were real.

"Go on," he urges softly.

You watch the way the girl eats hers and copy her. It's cold on your tongue. You can taste the flavours. You go in for some more. It's sweet, but not too sweet. You like it.

Suddenly, after a few good bites, you're struck with a pain in your head. Your hiss as you massage your scap gently.

Morpheus chuckles. "Ah, the experience of what they call brain-freeze."

"Oh. What do they enjoy this so much if this happens?" You pout.

"Perhaps a sweet treat is worth a little punishment." He teases.

Still, you eat the rest of the ice cream.

"What now?" He asks.

"Um, maybe I could try riding a bicycle?"

Morpheus is once again left amused by your request. He finds a dream of a man who, in his younger years, used to race on a bike. He helps you climb on. "Start small."

"Right..."

You take note of the people in the dream. You try to copy their movements. It is not so easy to balance with two wheels. Morpheus does not let you give up though.

Soon enough, you are peddling. You manage to cover a little distance. You smile as you start getting the hang of it. There was so much for you to experience.

Though you do miss soaring through the skies as a raven. However, Morpheus was keen for you to stay human today. You would humour him.

Next you want to see a beach. Morpheus can find those in abundance. He selects one he particularly like the look of.

You remove your shoes and feel the warm sand under your feet. You smile. Sand is Dream's thing, so it feels comforting. The sea is gentle against the shore.

"This is nice."

"It has dawned on me how little you have experienced, even as a raven."

"I suppose... but it's alright. I adore serving you." You tell him softly.

"Still, as things are now, you are permitted to enjoy life a little more."

"That's... very kind of you. However, please do not let me stray from my duties. I am still your loyal raven."

He chuckles. "Yes."

As you both walk along the shore, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. You look at him, but he simply smiles. You say nothing. The pair of you walk along the beach.

It's funny seeing him in such a warm, sunny place dressed the way he is. But it's just a dream. He's not really affected.

The sun starts to set. You stop and turn to look at it.

"How was it being human?"

You smile softly. "It was nice. I miss my wings, but this is exciting. Thank you for this."

"You're most welcome. I feel a lot is about to happen, so I wanted you to enjoy this." He says softly.

"What do you mean?"

"The vortex. She will bring my missing creations to her, and I shall bring them all home."

"Oh, right. Yes. Just say the word, and I'll help."

He smiles at you. "I know."

You both stay on the beach a little while longer. Once the sun has gone, Morpheus takes you back to the palace. You walk beside him through the halls.

"I must go speak to Lucienne. I shall call on you again soon." He says, looking at you. Nodding, you watch him go. His coat flows behind him as he disappears down the hall.

You stand there with a small smile on your face. All of things you've done today, your favourite part was spending it with Morpheus.

It almost felt like a date.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess - @mystic-mara -

#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

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short-black-diamond · 1 year

Note

please can you do bf headcanons for kaiser and sae and rin please (fem reader)

thxx

yeheeheheyyy

German vocab: "Schätzchen" = cute-ification of "treasure"

---

"That's my boyfriend!"

Kaiser:

Ayo how I hate that bitch

Please don't request stuff about him in the future

But him as a boyfriend?

I guess he'd be pretty chill, but he'd like to have you on his lap a lot

like, in that one chapter where he examined Isagi, he'd for sure have you on his lap, while trying to figure out what made Isagi so different

and he'd just--- stroke your thigh?

Idk I think he would do something like that

anf then hmmm...I think he's rich

not filthy rich like Reo, but pretty rich

I think he'd also spoil you? like--he'd sometimes buy you jewellery, but other than that, he would buy you other stuff, which is much more useful

like, one time he bought you a new tablet because yours got coffee on it

his coffee

soccer dates don't @ me

he'd try to teach you soccer if you didn't already know how, and if you did, he'd have you running after him as he always took the ball away right under your heel

It was funny, and you were happy to see your boyfriend laughing and giggling when he teicked you over and over again by dribbling the ball around you, before he gave you a small kiss to your cheek and scored a goal

"Jeez, you need to do better if you want the ball, Schätzchen."

You huffed. "I hope this wasn't an insult.."

"I'd never insult you, ____."

You guys would also go through Germany, with him showing you a lot of sights and taking pictures of you, then some selfies and would also buy you a cute souvenir.

he's a gentle lover, who gives you soft kisses and holds your hand softly

I think he'd also bring you to a viennesse ball, just to dance viennesse waltzer with you with an expensive, victorian dress he bought you as you two danced the waltz in old fashioned clothing in an old fashioned building with old fasioned people

bonus points if it was a masquerade ball

(imagine if he told you he'd meet you at the ball and mistake another girl with you, thinking that it was you, and you arriving to him dancing with another girl who had similar features as you...just imagine the heartbreak...the drama...I'd dance with Ness then, just to spite Kaiser...maybe I'll write a fic about that?)

Sae:

If you read my last post, I guessed -correctly- that Sae's an ass guy

Excpect your butt to be warm and squeezed at all times, babe

No but seriously I'm so proud of myself for being right about something I didn't know was already canon

*pats my own shoulder proudly*

He's busy

He has to train

but if you want to come with him, he won't stop you

When he was with the U-20, and he agreed for you to come with him, he hated it the moment you stepped foot in the room where he and his team was in

Imgine the bloodlust he felt when Oliver and Sendo touched you and flirted with you like there was no tomorrow (they didn't know that you were together with sae)

"I'm Sae's girlfriend..?", you then said and Sae hugged you from behind.

"Yes, I am her boyfriend, so take your filthy hands off of her.", he seethed.

Safe to say, the two didn't really listen as they just kept flirting with you, and they got to feel Sae's wrath on the field as he just kicked the ball into their face and crotch area

Other than that, I'd expect him to be very clingy

he looks touch-starved

give this man some love

After practise, he would always take a quick shower before cuddling with you on his bed and just take a small nap, letting you do whatever you want, but don't move your legs

he once turned you around on your stomach with force before he just---let his face fall onto your ass cheeks

you have no idea why he has an obession with your butt but oh well

Rin:

Another touch-starved baby

But he enjoys your company, speak, the first weeks of you dating him were silent, but he always had a small smile on his face

but let me tell you- he blushed madly when you held his pinky with yours

it was actually the first time you touched him

boy couldn't breathe

what have you done ____???

However, as the days went on, Rin initiated the touch more and more, and after a few months came the first kiss, with him kissing you softly, but his lip was trembling

And a rin with a beet red face came to view

I think he'd talk very quietly to you, I don't know why, but I just--do, you know?

Like he only wants you to hear what he has to say to you.

and you love it

also expect him to buy you stuff you don't really need?

I mean, he means it in a good way, but do you actually need an owl plushie in all its natural colors?

"Rin...why?"

"I-I like owls...! ...and, you're my girlfriend...so I wanted to give you something I like.", cue him looking at you sadly, but with innocent eyes.

yeah, you kissed him breathless after that little confession

also like-- I don't think any of the blue lockers have a dominant bone when they have an s/o at first, which means that the boys would also be shy

and I can just imagine Rin taking many tries before he actually asks to hold your hand, or takes nearly an hour more time from his busy schedule to buy you flowers you weren't allergic to, but which you also haven't received yet

he's the type who'd try to bake you cookies, and only have a small error, like either not enough sugar or cocoa, or idk what

---

Okay and that's it! I hope I nailed it, tell me if I didn't!

Read you guys in the next post!

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writersblockedx · 2 years

Text

Potions for Pranks

Pairing - George Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - Fred and George are practising one of their latest potions on Y/n. They suddenly realise their wrong doings when Y/n begins to forget her memories. Warnings - None I don't think Words - 1.8K

Masterlist

Y/n's memory was beginning to blur. Just specks, small pieces that she couldn't help as they slowly started to slip away.

To begin with, the girl had been blissfully unaware. She, along with Angelina, Lee and the twins, were seated at the great hall for breakfast. Something which had seemed as usual as normal. Until George had slipped some concoction into Y/n's drink without her noticing. The Wealsey boy had been under the belief it was his and Fred's newest potions: kissing concoction. Alas, he had gotten the bottles mixed up.

"So, Y/n?" Hummed George mischievously as he leaned closer to his girlfriend. "Feel anything...I don't know...strong?"

Her brows knotted and she slid away from the boy slightly, "I've got no idea what you're talking about." She answered, confused already, yet unaware as to how her memory was beginning to crack.

Fred, the only other one in on the prank, had started giggling, leading to the other's starting to catch on. "Maybe you've got an urge to do something." George wiggled his eyebrows, but at that point, as Y/n stared back at him, she noted such memory was started to fade away.

Panic settled in and she addressed the rest of the group: "What have you done?" Her tone was blunt and pierced through the air.

Everyone caught on. Something wasn't right. This wasn't some mindless prank the twins had pulled, but something that had become daunting to her. Angelina leaned forward slightly over the table and reached out her hand. "Y/n? What is it?" She queried.

The girl could only shake her head, soon finding herself lost in the place she felt safest. "I don't-" She glanced to George as his pupils filled with worry. "I don't know." Her head snapped back to Angelina. "I can't remember."

They each shared looks. All of which were troublesome. Fred finally piped up, sheepishly asking his brother, "George, which bottle did you pick up?"

George hadn't torn his eyes from Y/n until that moment. "There was more than one?" That's when they all realised they were well and truly fucked.

"Yeah. There was the kissing potion and the- erm- the forgetfulness potions."

His words thudded against the air. There was no need for George to answer the question. They all knew. And, in the sum of three words, Angelina conveyed all their emotions, "You absolute morons."

Fred raised his hands in surrender, "Don't blame me!" Then he pointed this finger to his brother, "George was the one who picked the wrong bottle up."

The other twin rolled his eyes, commenting, "Very mature." Before turning to face Y/n who was still sat at complete loss, trying to grasp onto the memories which were slowly fading away. His eyes softened as his palms reached up to cup the sides of her face. "Hey, you're alright." Though, that he couldn't be sure of yet.

"Why do you even have a forgetfulness postion?" Questioned Lee, his curious tone gliding through the unsettling atmosphere.

"Testing some things out." Fred shrugged as his gaze snapped back to Y/n who hadn't dared to look away from George. "We're trying to make a short-term forgetfulness. You know, get away with a bit more stuff." He rambled on as he came to realise how bad this may turn out for them.

"And that," Angelina pointed to Y/n's cup, "Isn't the one for short-term memory?"

Fred shook his head.

"How do you feel?" George asked through a whisper, but in the group's silence, they all heard it. And they were all eagerly awaiting her answer, eagerly awaiting to find out how much memory their friend had lost.

Her pupils shot between the different people in front of her. The people she was closest to. The people who probably took up the majority of her memories. But, as she looked around, she just saw faces. Faces of which she was struggling to identify. "I don't- I can't-" She stuttered. The only thing which felt known was the red-head's hands on her cheeks. They were gentle and comforting as her body found them familiar, while her brain found them foreign. "I can't remember."

The pure panic in her pupils pushed a silence. Their friend now staring at them like they were ghosts. "It's like I know myself, but I can't, I can't place names to faces." She explained through a trembling tone.

"It's okay." Eased George as he took his hand in hers, hoping to soothe her concern. Then he turned his head and addressed the rest of the group, "Right? We can figure something out?" There was still panic woven throughout George's tone and it was louder than his words.

Lee scoffed, "Pretty sure this is above anything we can fix." At least he were being realistic. Though, his realism had only bought him a kick in the shin from the boy across from him. "Ouch!" He winced but was silenced none the less.

Angelina looked down the table in the Great Hall before leaning in as if her words were about to be dangerous. "You know, if we can't fix this, then that means..." She glanced between the boys who weren't seeming to catch on.

"That means? It means what?" Inquired Fred with knitted brows.

The girl huffed and let on, "We're going to have to go to Snape."

They seemed to dread that more than having a friend who didn't quite remember them. "Snape?" Y/n reiterated in curiosity. "That is?" They found it surprising how easily it had been to forget such a distinguished man. Then again, they supposed it showed the intensity of the potion they had accidentally slipped into Y/n's drink.

"Someone you'll wish you could forget." Replied Lee with the raise of his brows; wishing now that he had been the one to take the burden of the potion.

"Surely there's someone else." George thought. "I mean, anyone else. You know how many points he'll deduct?"

Angelina scowled, "And that's more important than getting your girlfriend's memories back, is it?"

"I'm just saying maybe there's a professor a bit nicer, who may be able to fix this just as well."

"He's potions master, George, there's no one better than him." No one liked the idea, but Angelina was right and there was no point in arguing. "Come on," She urged as she slipped from her seat and everyone else followed.

Y/n stuck close to George, their hands still perfectly interlocked. "Where are we going?" She asked him as they followed behind the others.

He glanced to her as they continued out of the Great Hall, "To someone who can get your memories back." He informed her.

She nodded her head but still seemed uncertain of the idea. "Right." She muttered before looking to him through confused eyes, "And, remind me again, your name is?"

A slight smile hooked at his lips, "George." He told her.

The group wandered around the hallways. For once, they were dismissive. For once, they were aiming to combat any attention as they hid their most recent prank: Y/n. Luckily, most students still lingered in the Great Hall and they were able to get to potions class without many glances their way.

But their real troubles would only begin when they knocked against the door. Angelina looked back at George, who seemed sewed too the forgetful girl. "You ready?" She questioned and the red-head nodded.

Angelina raised her hand and let her knuckles knock gently against the wood. They waited a moment or two before the door swung open and Snape ducked his head out. He glared at each of them, stopping on Angelina. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but erm-" She looked to Y/n and then back to the professor. "We need some help."

The man narrowed his eyes and, for a moment, George could have sworn he was about to decline his help. But, alas, he opened the door fully, "Come in." He instructed as the group fumbled into potions class. "What is it this time?"

And so, Angelina started to explain. She explained everything. Snape listened all the way through and didn't make any comment until the girl stopped. He then huffed and through the trembling silence, looked to the twins and said, "I'm half inclined to leave her as is for a few hours, hopefully teach you a lesson you're both obviously lacking." The two bit their tongues. "Instead, I'm sure a deduction of ten house points will be sufficient."

George sent Angelina a stare which could only read: I told you so. "Do you have the potion?" Snaped queried.

"Yeah." Answered George before rummaging through his robe pockets and pulling out the small bottle and handing it over.

Snape's gaze dragged over to the girl who resembled a deer caught in the headlights. "Take a seat please, Miss Y/l/n." He told her, but she didn't seem to make any move. Well, that was until George prompted her. Snape kept quiet and unscrewed the potion, sniffing it to search for it's ingredients. "And I wonder, what were you doing with such a potion?"

The twins looked to one another, shared in their expression, before addressing Snape. "Revision, sir." Fred answered.

Snape chose not to comment before taking the potion and beginning to gather what he needed for a remedy. He put it all together, mixed it and then returned and passed the concoction to Y/n. She looked up with doe-eyes, curiously holding the potion she wasn't sure of. "Drink it, Y/n." George encouraged with the nod of his head.

She glanced between him and the drink. She wasn't sure, but for some reason, she found that the boy in front of her was one to be trusted. So she followed his instruction and swallowed it all.

They all nervously anticipated if it were to work or not. They probably should have had trust in their professor, but Snape wasn't the most trustworthy. A moment passed and Y/n showed no sign of returning to her usual self. So George offered his hand to her, "Y/n? How do you feel?" He questioned.

She looked up slowly. She wore an expression that the boy struggled to depict. It seemed relieved, yet there were speckles of irritation written into her pupils. Slowly, she stood from the stool and fully faced George. Before he could even realise what was going on, he was getting gently hit in the chest by the girl, followed by her mutterings, "You idiot, George Weasley! You stupidity amazes me sometimes!" She went on before he caught her fists and a grin spread across his lips.

He quipped his head, "How I've missed you."

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley imagine #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley oneshot #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hogwarts #hogwarts imagines #fred weasley #draco malfoy #hermione granger #x reader #fanfiction

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tinydefector · 6 months

Note

Halloo, can you do Ratchet with gn!Reader where they have a high pain tolerance? Reader kept getting themselves hurt that it worries the old Ratchet bcuz most of the time they didn't show any reaction of being in pain

Medical Questions

Warnings: doctors' trip, description of stitching, past medical neglect

Word count: 2.4k

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Ratchet masterlist

Before I start this, I just wish to say thank you. This is actually something I struggle with and recently learnt stuff on. Before I continue, these are the medical charts you should be using to determine your pain and symptoms.

For a very long time, I believed dislocated joints were in the 4-5 until I ended up back in hospital due to knee dislocations and doctors telling me how the scale works and that my stuff was more in the 7 to 8 range.

Also added another little thing local anaesthetics doesn't work on me so most of the time when i get stitches it's rather annoying, i've gotten quite used to it but i thought these would be some great ideas to add in and also for educational purposes.

_____________

Soft steps are barely heard as they quietly make their way into the medical bay, eyes lingering on Ratchet's back. they bite their lip debating if it was better to see Ratchet or hope they could find First-Aid. "Ratchet," they call out nervously.

Ratchet's shoulders stiffen slightly when he hears his name called out, but he doesn't turn around immediately. Putting down the tool in his hand, the medic lets out a small huff before turning to face the visitor with a stern look.

"What is it? I'm rather busy at the moment so please keep it quick" he states gruffly, optics scanning over them with practised ease. Though his bedside manner left much to be desired, Ratchet was never one to turn away someone in need of medical assistance.

His gaze pauses when he notices their nervous expression and the way they seem to fidget under his scrutiny. After a moment, his features soften just a fraction. With a shaky breath they unwrap their arm where blood drips onto the ground "i... i think i need stitches" they state, their adrenaline level was out of the roof and they could barely feel it.

Ratchet's optics widen slightly at the sight of the freely bleeding injury. He quickly moves over to examine it closer, tutting under his breath. "Foolish human. What did you do to yourself this time?" Though his words are chiding, his touch is gentle as he inspects the wound. Carefully lifting them up onto his medical bench. He is quick with moving this so that he could make a somewhat soft seat for his patient.

"Have a seat over there, please" Ratchet states while. Retrieving saline, gauze and other medical equipment, Ratchet settles down beside them in his chair. Despite the late hour, he shows no hurry or impatience. His full attention is on them, blue optics focused on the injury.

They move to take a seat and wait patiently for Ratchet. They clench their teeth from the feeling but other than that they don't show much of a reaction to the pain.

"Was in the bar, sliced My arm on one of the broken glasses I was trying to help Swerve clean up after a rowdy night, ripped my arm right open, swerve dropped me off." They mumble ble, looking away from Ratchet as he begins washing the blood away to determine how many stitches would be needed.

Ratchet nods as he listens to their explanation, making a mental note to have a talk with Swerve about being more careful with breakable objects around humans.

"You're fortunate it isn't worse," he advises as he works.

"You're handling this remarkably well," he comments. "Either you have an unusually high pain tolerance, or your judgement is impaired in some way. I do hope you weren't overindulging at Swerve's," he says pointedly.

"Not the first injury won't be the last, it hurts, hurts alot. But yea high pain tolerance" they state, their eyes watching as Ratchet sorts through the small needles and clamps. "Don't bother with trying to numb it, it doesn't work." They call out to the medic.

Ratchet pauses in surprise at their words. "It...doesn't work? That's highly unusual." He frowns pensively. "Have you had issues with local anaesthetics failing before?"

"Nothing you can do about it Ratchet, it's the main reason my pain tolerance is so high. I learnt at a young age local anaesthetics have no effect, some sort of genetic thing."

The medic considers for a moment before shaking his head. "Regardless, it would be unethical of me not to at least attempt to minimise your discomfort." He searches through his supplies until he finds an injectable anaesthetic suitable for humans.

Ratchet administers a dose near the wound site, working slowly and carefully. He watches their face, looking for any signs of relief, however small.

A small hiss leaves their lips as they clench their teeth, breathing in slowly through their nose as they feel Ratchet slowly starting to stitch up the wound. Each time the needle pericers their skin their body twitches against their will. "Shit sorry, didn't mean to twitch" they call out.

When it seems the medication has had no effect, Ratchet's frown deepens. He runs a quick scan, checking for anything that could be interfering with the anaesthetic. Finding nothing amiss, he lets out a small huff.

"Remarkable...and concerning," Ratchet murmurs. He meets their eyes, his own filled with a mix of curiosity and worry. "We should look into this resistance further. For now,though, all I can do is apologise and promise to be as gentle as possible."

True to his word, the medic's movements are precise but tender as he begins suturing the gash. His gaze frequently flickers up, monitoring them for any additional signs of pain. Though the lack of anaesthesia troubles him, Ratchet remains dedicated to providing the best care he can.

Ratchet nods slowly as he continues stitching, "No need to apologise," he murmurs, pausing briefly when they twitch involuntarily. "Just try to stay still. I know it's difficult."

The medic works methodically, keeping one hand resting lightly on their arm to both stabilise and comfort. He can feel the tension in their muscles as they struggle not to flinch away from the pain.

"Almost done," Ratchet soothes. "You're doing well." He keeps his voice low and even, providing a calming presence despite the circumstances.

In short order he ties off the last suture. Cleansing the area one final time, Ratchet smoothes a protective bandage over the neat row of stitches.

"There we are. All finished." The medic steps back, gaze soft with sympathy. "You handled that admirably. " They sit there for a little while trying to let their vision return from the near blackness that haze over their eyes.

He begins tidying up, giving them a chance to breathe and recenter themselves after the ordeal. Ratchet watches carefully as they sit there quietly for a few moments. He can see the lingering strain in their features and posture as the adrenaline begins to fade.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain level right now?" he asks gently.

"This feels like about a 5 maybe a 6" they reply.

Ratchet's optics widened in surprise and concern at their rating. A 5-6 indicated moderate pain that would have most beings seeking aid. The fact that they considered this injury manageable was troubling.

The medic leans down to be closer to their level, meeting their eyes with a serious but kind gaze. "I appreciate you trying to downplay it, but a wound requiring suturing should be far above a 5. Has your sense of pain become...skewed somehow?"

He pauses, considering how best to explain. "The pain scale is meant to reflect severity. A 10 being the worst pain imaginable. For an untreated laceration like this, most would rate it an 8 or higher." Ratchet's voice is gentle,

Ratchet places a reassuring hand on their uninjured shoulder. "I know you're strong. But you don't have to be strong all the time. Not when we're alone here." His voice is a deep rumble, simultaneously stern and kind. "So please, be honest with me. How are you really feeling?"

"Umm I mean it's not killing me so it's not that bad, yea it hurts, it's gonna be a pain to do stuff with for the next while which is annoying" they reply as they open their eyes, pupils dilating in disorientation.

Ratchet's spark sinks as he realises they are being truthful in their belief of level of pain. The medic vents a soft sigh, helm shaking sadly.

"I was afraid you'd say as much," he murmurs. Seeing the disorientation in their eyes, another question comes to mind. "Did you lose consciousness at all while I was stitching? Any lapses in awareness?"

"Umm kinda get this light haze over my eyes but didn't pass out" they state telling him the exact symptom of blacking out. And ratchet realises this human doesn't even understand the basics. Ratchet asks a list of medical questions.

Ratchet's concern only grows as they describe symptoms of blacking out, yet don't seem to realise the gravity of that. It was clear there were major gaps in their medical knowledge that urgently needed addressing.

The medic pulls up a stool and takes a seat facing them. In a gentle but intent tone, he begins asking questions:

"How often have you experienced loss of vision or awareness from pain?" He scans them again, just to be sure no complications have arisen. Finding nothing of note, Ratchet gives their shoulder a light, reassuring squeeze.

"Um.. sometimes when I stand up I get lightheaded for a few seconds and when I hurt myself it can cause it to happen alot too." They explain, it makes Ratchet vent softly as he tries not to lose his composure.

"Has anyone explained why that's dangerous?"

"no... it's dangerous?"

"Rather dangerous the hazing you're referring to is you blacking out, and it can result in you passing out" Ratchet explains, he can see the gears turning in their brain. "Um.. I thought blacking out was passing out" they explain sheepishly. It makes Ratchet pinch his nasal ridge.

"What is your experience with receiving medical care in the past? Were you taught to minimise or ignore pain?" He asked rather angry, not at his patient but over the fact that they hadn't been informed correctly on how to deal with these things.

"I know this seems manageable to you, but in truth the pain scale works in this order.What is your understanding of pain levels and when to seek treatment?"

0 - I have no pain

1 -my pain is hardly noticeable

2 - I have a low level of pain, I am aware of my pain only when I pay attention to it

3- My pain bothers me but I can ignore it most of the time.

4- I am constantly aware of my pain but can continue most activities

5- I think about my pain most of the time, I can't do some activities I need to do each day. Because of the pain.

6- I think about my pain all of the time, I give up many activities because of my pain.

7- I am in pain all of the time. It keeps me from doing most activities

8- my pain is so severe that it is hard to think of anything else, talking and listening is difficult

9- My pain is all I can think about. I can barely talk or move due to the pain.

10- I need emergency room help.

The pain is your body's way of saying 'stop'." The old bot's voice takes on a pleading tone. "Promise me you'll heed that warning in the coming days. The work can wait."

Rising slowly, Ratchet gathers a mild pain reliever and subspaces it. "Take this three times a day with food and water. And please, come to me if you need anything at all. Day or night." He helps them stand, staying close should they stumble.

" So now I ask what pain scale you should be saying over bleeding wounds" Ratchet asked while looking down at them waiting for their answer.

"A ten..?" They ask sheepishly, the medic gives a nod.

" Have you ever hesitated to come to me for injuries you considered"minor "? Please be honest." He asked hoping they hadn't but their silence was almost deafening. "Please if you get hurt or sick come to me straight away"

"I see...it seems there is much I need to teach you," he says gravely. "Let's start simply - anytime you feel close to losing consciousness from pain or other causes, it indicates a serious problem. Dizziness, blurry vision, these are your body's alarm signals to stop and get help. Please alert someone or get here as soon as you can"

Ratchet meets their eyes, willing them to grasp the urgency of this. "And you must always come to me or another medic if an injury is causing significant, constant pain. Or if it impairs function at all. You should never endure that unaided, it is extremely dangerous."

He places a gentle hand on their uninjured shoulder. "I know past experience may have taught you otherwise. But you are under my care now. Please trust that I want to help, no matter how 'minor' you think an issue may be."

The old bot's voice takes on a pleading tone. "Will you make me this promise? That you will not downplay or ignore symptoms that could indicate something dangerous. Your health is far too important."

They give a soft nod. "Umm if anything starts playing up I'll come straight back" they state softly. "Umm thank you for stitching my arm up ratchet" they reply softly.

Ratchet visibly relaxes at their promise, relieved that his plea seems to have gotten through. There was still much to teach them, but this was a good start.

"Thank you," the medic replies sincerely. "You ease an old bot's worries with that."

He gives their shoulder a final pat before withdrawing his hand. "Now then, you should get some rest. Doctor's orders," Ratchet adds with a hint of his usual gruffness. But there's warmth in his optics as he looks them over.

"Take it slow moving about and don't tax yourself. I'll check on the stitches in a few days." He stands, moving to put away the last of his supplies. "And remember, have your pain killers and do not get it infected"

Ratchet walks them to the medbay doors before bidding goodnight. But he makes sure to watch until they are safely out of sight, wanting to be sure the disorientation has passed. Though still concerned about their skewed pain perceptions, the medic feels bolstered knowing they took his words to spark.

He would make certain this human learned when and how to seek help. "Primus take me" he mumbles to himself, releasing that he was going to need to sit the whole crew down for medical advice and how to handle a human who doesn't understand a pain scale.

#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers lost light #transformers x reader #transformers ratchet #ratchet transformers #ratchet #ratchet x reader #ratchet x human

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uravitypng · 2 years

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hi! i was wondering if you could do a hurt/comfort fic with reader and kenma? basically we’ve barely seen him because of practice and stuff and when we do see him (at his place or something), he’s either playing game with kuroo or not paying any attention to us at all and we began to feel neglected?

*insert that one cracks knuckles meme* okay i think i can knock something up real quick for ya <3

----

you're sitting alone on the sofa just like the last two previous nights. kenma has been getting more and more busy later and you understand that, you really do, he's practising, he's trying to keep in contact with everyone from the team, he's trying to stream more frequently to build up his followers but you feel neglected.

it's not his fault and it's not yours but you've barely seen him at all in the last few weeks and this is the third night in a row where you're sitting at home for kenma so you can start your movie date night and as it gets later and later you know that he's going to cancel again just like the last two previous nights.

you go about your night-time routine, having a shower and doing your skincare before you head to bed. you don't know when kenma will be home and if you stay up any later you'll overthink it more than you already are. your last thoughts as you drift off to sleep is that hopefully kenma will have time for you tomorrow.

when kenma gets home later that night all he wants to do is be in your arms, finally he's home. he's been busy all day, practising his sets all day and when he was finally able to leave kuroo wanted to have dinner with him and didn't leave him alone.

turning on the light so he can grab some water from the kitchen he sees snacks laid out on the table and remembers date night. shit. he can't believe he forgot and he can't believe this is the third night in a row that your date night has been changed. he wishes you would've called him. he quickly downs his water, wanting to see you. coming into the bedroom he see's the moonlight casting down on you as you sleep on the bed with one of your legs bent and raised next to your chest with your head buried into a pillow. he can't help but smile. you look so cute.

he gets into bed and wraps his arms around you tightly, trying to convey he's sorry for not paying attention to your recently even though you're already asleep. he keeps you close and closes his eyes, the only way he gets a proper good nights sleep nowadays is with you right beside him.

when you wake up you feel the body warmth of kenma behind you, as he's wrapped his arms around your stomach and waist tightly, making it hard for you to get out of bed. you try a bit harder but kenma just pulls tighter, you look up at him to see that he's starting to wake up. "come back into bed." you should say no, you have things to do but you want to bask in his presence and the sleepy small smile he's giving you so you give in and go back next to him in bed. from behind you you hear kenma say he's sorry.

"what are you saying sorry for ken?" you mumble, still pretty tired and out of it

"i forgot about date night, i didn't tell you that i'd be home late. i've been so busy lately and i've missed you so much. i care about you, please remember that, i love you. i'm sorry if i've been making you feel like i don't." he says lowly into your ear, pressing his body closer to yours.

you spend the entire day together, and you have your long overdue date night

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mycenalucentipes · 1 year

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I'd like to request fred and george weasley head cannons! Specifically how they would go about dealing with their feelings and asking out a crush in each house. So how fred would deal with realizing he likes a girl in Slytherin/Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw/gryffindor and how he would ask them out. Same with george.

(Bonus points if you wanna do for Ron weasley, harry Potter, and/or draco Malfoy too)

a/n: This seems fun, so I’ll give it a shot! I think I’ll do Hufflepuff and Slytherin for Fred and then Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for George. Sorry to split it up, but I get pretty carried away with writing^^’. These headcanons might be more like one shots, I apologise.

a/n after writing some more: I’m sorry, these are definitely more like one shots. Umm, I'm not so good at headcanon stuff, so I hope you're not too disappointed! Also will try to get around to doing a Draco version of this over the next week???

Summary: Headcannons(err more like oneshots) on how Fred and George Weasley deal with falling head-over-heels for their crush!

Warnings: Fluff I guess? A couple swears here and there, Fred and George and maybe you confessing your ever growing young love for each other

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Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

1.1k words

You were just a typical shy, kind hearted Hufflepuff girl. You wouldn’t throw an insult in anyone’s direction. Though you weren’t afraid to hex or charm someone. You tended to stay out of people’s way, ducking through the crowd and avoiding as many shoves as possible to get to your next class through the busy halls.

It was in a 5th year Hufflepuff/Gryffindor Charms class that you shared with the Weasley twins. Professor Flitwick paired you and Fred up for an essay on your two most recently learned charms. The Severing and Colour Change charms.

It was during this duo effort that he found himself falling hard for you after an incident during the essay.

You both decided to work in the Gryffindor common room one evening. Practising the charm as well as writing about the two. He cast the Severing Charm with too little caution or regard for his surroundings.

Let’s just say, you ended up with a new haircut that night and were not too happy. Without skipping a beat after it happened, you shot the Colour Change Charm at him, turning his hair a bright indigo blue.

Fred didn’t even care that his hair was blue(well at that minute). He stared at you, awestruck that you had retaliated. Up until then, you were just the Hufflepuff that stayed out of everyone’s way. Never cursed or gossiped. Of course, Fred profusely apologised, all while laughing his head off.

“You know, love. I must say, you look quite cute with that new haircut of yours.” He gave a cheeky smile before running away from your wand pointed at him, not wanting to see what else you might cast at him.

Fred didn’t know why he never noticed you before. He wishes he would’ve. He loved seeing this new side of you and desperately wanted to get to know you more.

Every Charms class, he would start sitting next to you, and distract you from lectures. He would write jokes to you on scraps of paper, or just nudge your arm or leg endlessly until you jokingly kicked him back. One time, you accidentally knocked him in the shin a little too hard that he yelped quite loudly in class.

“Mr. Weasley, do you have something to share with the class?” Flitwick asked with a little bit of irritation in his voice.

“N-no sir, sorry!” He squeaked out, rubbing his shin under the desk. You shot him an apologetic look, then went back to listening to Flitwick continue on.

George would tease him endlessly about his new little crush on the Hufflepuff girl. He noticed the lovesick daze his twin would be in during meals in the Great Hall. Fred would sometimes just get lost in staring at you while you joked around with your housemates.

Occasionally, you would catch him staring, then smile a bit. He loved the way your eyes sparkled when he caught his gaze. Or how your smile would instantly brighten his whole world.

Even after the project ended, he made every effort to try and hang out with you. Whether it be plopping himself next to you during meals or even following you to the library to study. Which, didn’t actually include much studying when he was around. He was far more fond of staring at you and joking around.

You quickly grew accustomed to his constant attention, flirting, and shenanigans. You loved it all, but you would never dare be the first one to confess. So you quietly went along with him, watching and admiring, not having the confidence to believe he would like you back. Boy were you wrong. This man was whipped. For you.

One abnormally normal Thursday, you sat through the regular same old charms class, ate the same meals, talked to the same friends, Fred pulled you outside to the courtyard after class was let out. He gently led you by holding your small hand in his larger one.

“Fred? Are you alright? Where are we going?” You asked, growing more concerned as Fred’s pace picked up. In all honesty, Fred was a tad nervous. Sure girls flirted with him here and there and he would sometimes reciprocate that. He was a charming guy, what can you say?

Fred would not say a thing on the way to the courtyard. Heck, you still had no idea where this boy was taking you. You could sense a nervousness about Fred, which was quite odd to you. You’d never known him to be nervous about anything. Even in potions when Snape would drill him and Fred would just joke and laugh about it. So why was he so worked up today?

You both sat down at one of the corridors’s archways that bordered the school’s courtyard. You could finally see his face. He looked just the slightest bit flustered with a light pink dusting his cheeks. This is new. You thought nervously. Fred fiddled with your hand a bit, refusing to look into your eyes.

“Freddie, what is it? You’re scaring me…” You whispered out to him. He finally looked you straight in the eyes, guilt flashing through them.

“Oh! No, please don’t be scared. Merlin, I’m so sorry, love, haha,” Fred apologized while grabbing your other hand now and facing directly towards you, “ Just a tad nervous, but I have to tell you now, I can’t wait any longer.” He began rambling on about how much you meant to him and how he couldn’t take his mind off of you. You lived rent free in this man’s head and he didn’t know how to contain his feelings any longer.

“Fred, what are you on about?” You smiled, feeling giddy already. You had a suspicion of where this might be going. He stopped rambling, feeling his full confidence and charm return.

“Y/n, I was wondering if you would like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? I quite fancy you. I really, really like you a lot!” He beamed with a wide grin. Even though you felt this might be what was happening, your face still turned into one of shock. Fred’s smile faltered for a second, but not for long.

You flung yourself into him, giving him the warmest, sweetest bear hug you could manage. As you dove into him, he let out a small “oomf!” before returning the hug.

“Yes, of course I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you!” You happily cheered. “And I like you too!” Fred couldn’t have been more happy with the outcome. He was completely, utterly head over heels for you.

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Fred x Slytherin!Reader

877 words

I think even if the reader was a Slytherin, Fred would still be pretty outgoing and wouldn’t shy away from her. He also wouldn’t hesitate too much to finally confess his feelings. I feel that he wouldn’t be able to keep his feelings to himself for very long. Here’s another scenario of Fred slowly realising his ever growing crush on you. It hits him like a slap to the face and he can’t contain these feelings to himself anymore.

Fred wasn’t really sure how his crush started. Maybe back in his third year, whenever you cheered on one of his and George’s pranks? He was amazed he was able to catch your attention, because the whole “Gryffindors and Slytherins will never mesh” thing. Since then, he never really saw a reason to totally resist all Slytherins. You were different.

You weren’t snobbish or all high and mighty about being a pureblood Slytherin. You never bullied anyone. Except for Pansy occasionally. She usually deserved it though as she often picked on some poor Hufflepuff girl or a non pureblood Slytherin. You also never put up with Draco’s shit. So you and Malfoy ended up with a mutual understanding that neither of you would mess with each other.

Another part to add to his growing feelings was 4th year, watching you stand up to Professor Snape after he picked on George a bit too harshly. Of course, the twins could’ve stood up for themselves, they could care less about Snape and that class. Something in you had just snapped that day. It cost you 20 Slytherin house points, but you couldn’t bear to see Snape bullying any more students that day.

Now to the part we are at today, 5th year. You both became friends over the past couple years. You were currently in the middle of pulling off some prank with Fred and George. Fred and George had a plan that involved you since you had an in with the Slytherins.

You were to “accidentally” trip and fall into Pansy. In the process you “accidentally” slop some Out to Lunch Fake Moustache lotion on Pansy’s face. While you had her distracted, Fred and George would slip some Dungbombs into Crabbe and Goyle’s robe pockets.

The plan went off without a hitch. Pansy was screaming bloody murder when she started growing facial hair. She only found out when Draco started cackling at her as she approached the Slytherin table for lunch. The laughter didn’t laugh long whenever Crabbe and Goyle entered. Nearly everyone evacuated the Great Hall after this.

The three of you made a run for it. Filch was close on your tails, too close. George sacrificed himself so you and Fred could get away together. He winked at Fred with a salute, then turned around and grinned at Filch, not a glint of fear in his face. Just pure humour and amusement.

The two of you slipped into one of Hogwarts’ secret passageways that led all the way to Hogsmeade. You and Fred laughed the whole way there.

“Man, I gotta thank your brother later for taking one for the team.” You laughed, nearly out of breath from your workout.

Fred laughed along too, excited to finally have you alone. As you both made your way to The Three Broomsticks, he grew a little nervous. What if you didn’t like him like that? What if you fancied George? Or didn’t even want to date a Gryffindor? Man, he needed to calm down.

After sitting down at a table in the corner with your butterbeers, he noticed you looked a bit flushed. “Y/n, are you alright? Pansy didn’t hurt you, did she? Are you fevered?” His mouth rushed with questions.

“N-no! Silly, I’m good. I just… Fred, I need to tell you something.” You replied. A look of concern spread over his features, fearing for the worst. He was so in love that his mind was a little wonky about this. He would lose all sense of reality when he stared into your beautiful eyes. His mind and heart would race when you would accidentally brush hands or place a hand onto his forearm.

Finally, you stared into his eyes, “I like you!!!” You loudly declared, standing up to further prove your point. You startled quite a few patrons surrounding you. Fred slightly startled too, eyes going wide as he was not expecting this. He didn’t think you would confess to him. You stood there breathing heavily, waiting for his response.

“Love, I really, really like you as well!” He exclaimed as he too stood up. He pulled you close and brought your faces close to each other. “May I?” You nodded a little shyly, closing the gap between your lips. Once again, you shocked him. It took a second for him to lean into the kiss.

When you did break away you confessed, “I’ve fancied you since year two, Fred.” His eyes widened. “Year two!?” You giggled bashfully and nodded while looking away. Fred gently used his hand to guide your face to turn back to him.

“I really should’ve realised sooner. I think I only realised a month back if I’m being honest.” He said, a blush clear on his cheeks and ears. “Although, I’ve always been quite fond of you. You’re my little snake now.”

You laughed and hugged him once more. You were finally his, and him, yours.

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George Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader

1.3k words

Now, I think George would try to be more subtle about it? It might take a bit more prodding from Fred to finally tell you directly.

Though George never really took notice of you until third year of Hogwarts. You were mostly lost in your thoughts to yourself a lot and weren’t the most bold student. You were 11-13 though, that’s fair enough.

It wasn’t until you made friends with the Golden Trio. Ron Weasley specifically. You and Ron became best buds in your third year and his first, like a sibling relationship. You met all three of them on the train. You had noticed Harry and Ron in one of the train compartments and asked if you could join them. Mostly because you figured the red head would be the Weasley’s younger brother!

Ever since then you had been helping Ron with homework, attend quidditch matches with him, and even sneak him out to Hogsmeade. After a year of knowing them, during your 4th year, Ron invited you over to stay with them for winter break! So of course you had to go!

It was wonderful there, with everyone, the atmosphere was warm, cosy, and overall felt like another home.

When Ron introduced you to everyone, you definitely caught the attention of George Weasley, he was stunned to silence by your character and beauty. He thought you were the most beautiful thing to cross his path. He just had to get to know you better. Also because you meshed so well with his family!

He was in awe at how much Ron looked up to you and how smart you were. You always helped Ron with his homework. Maybe you would help him too with his! Merlin knows he didn’t care much about his homework. Whenever meal times came around, you were always first to volunteer yourself to helping Mrs. Weasley out in the kitchen. You also could talk for hours on end about the muggle world with Mr. Weasley, being a half-blood yourself. You definitely had some information to share with him.

At some point during your stay, you decided you would try to befriend the Weasley twins. They were in your grade, so why not get to know them? George was elated by this. Falling in love was new to him and made him a little shy when it came to you.

Over the next week of break, you and the twins got very close. Often playing wizards chess, quidditch, or just pulling pranks on the others. You did accidentally give them both pig ears and pig tails with a prank formula gone wrong. They both found it hilarious and decided to try and make more of whatever it was you did.

Since it would get cold, George would let you borrow his jumpers. He thought you looked absolutely adorable with how oversized they looked. He loved that they were his that you were wearing as well. You often would go to George and ask for a jumper to borrow when it would get cold. It was often rare to see you not wearing one of his jumpers around the house anymore.

Some nights, everyone would sit down by the fireplace and just share stories or jokes. You also situated yourself next to George, even leaning against him a few times (all of the time). His heart would flutter every time he felt your presence lean against him. He loved it, absolutely adored it.

A couple times, you would fall asleep against him. He knew as soon as your weight would sink into him further along with the sound of your gentle breathing. He would then gently prod you awake once it got late enough and everyone had gone up to bed, leaving just the two of you.

“Hmm…oh, hey George? Where did everyone go?” You pondered as you slowly sat up.

“Oh, they left for Ireland, said they’re not coming back for a couple days.” He shrugged as you gave him a look of ‘wtf’. He burst out laughing, “Kidding, kidding, I swear, they all went to bed. It’s past 11:00pm.”

You playfully smacked his arm, “Oh, you! Sorry for dozing off on you. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so enchanting in your sleep. I couldn’t bear to disturb your peaceful slumber, so why wake a pretty face?”

“Y-you don’t mean that. How can I look beautiful while sleeping? I know for a fact that I sleep-talk and drool occasionally!” You giggled while leaning back into his side, resting your head onto his chest.

“Okay, so maybe you drool, but it doesn’t take away from your cuteness!”

No matter how you looked, George would always slip in a compliment to you. He would even spin your self doubts into compliments.

Eventually, it was time to go back to school! It was a couple months before George came to terms with his feelings for you.

Whenever George realised his crush on you though, he would try to subtly flirt with you. He would always flatter you, never missing an opportunity, oftentimes he would or if you were walking down the hallways together, he would playfully nudge or bump shoulders with you during your odd conversations.

You often talked about really random things. Like, what a chair’s scream might sound like if a desk chair suddenly gained sentience. Or what if frogs harmonised their croaks and ribbits to mate?

If you both were through a crowded hallway, he would grab your hand or wrap an arm around your shoulders to keep you close and not be swept away by the bustling students.

Whenever you got excited over something, for example, you aced your potions exam, you would run to George after class and throw your arms around him. He would instantly hug back.

He loved the way your hair smelled, how it felt when you hugged him, how your laughter would ring through his ears. He loved it all, couldn’t get enough of it.

He also loved when you would attend the quidditch matches and cheer him on. So he decided he would confess to you after a match one day.

“Hey Y/n, meet me after the quidditch match today!”

“Why do you even ask,” You replied with a laugh, “I always do that anyways.” George just shrugs and runs off to catch up with his teammates.

Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. Of course, Gryffindor came out on top! The Gryffindor stands cheered wildly, you included. You rushed down the stands to meet George.

When things calmed down, he took you somewhere a little more private.

“Y/n… I wanted to tell you that meeting you has been the most wonderful moment in my life. Hanging out with you has been an even more wonderful time. You captivate my mind everyday. I can’t help but admire you!”

“George, what are you on about?” You looked up at him questioningly. He sighed with a smile and ran his hand through his hair.

“God dammit Y/n, haha. What I suppose I’m trying to say is that these feelings have transformed into something more than just…friendship.” Oh. You blushed heavily, finally getting the hint. “I like you, like, like-like you, Y/n!”

“Oh George! I like you too! I feel the same way! I-I never knew you felt this way.” You mumbled into his chest. As soon as he had confessed, you had thrown yourself into a hug with him.

“I noticed,” He chuckled while hugging you back.

“I guess, looking back, a lot of our interactions like that make sense now.” You laughed at your own obliviousness.

George would be so flustered and over the moon that you two were finally a thing, that he would forget to ask you out on a date. He sincerely meant to do so. So on your way back to the dorms, he would suddenly spin towards you and ask you to go out with him for lunch/dinner whatever you prefer!

====================================

George Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

I profusely apologise for these becoming so long and like..kind of not headcanons again.

1.4k words

As a Ravenclaw, George would be drawn to your wit, sharp mind, and creativeness. You weren’t just a typical bookworm. No, you put your intellectual prowess to use. Often to cause mischief or shoot back sarcastic comebacks to any rude students or professors.

At age 14, you became an animagus, a pine marten! You might be more of a shy and withdrawn Ravencalw, but people just seemed to gravitate towards you. You never had any problems getting along with people. (Minus a few Slytherins…)

You and George had Transfiguration class together. This was 5th year charms, so you were learning some vanishing spells as well as more of turning animals into inanimate objects. McGonagall had paired the two of you up for an essay presentation. You looked over to him with a small grin, and he of course, returned the gesture.

You two would meet during evenings either right before dinner, or nights after dinner whenever George didn’t have quidditch practice.

He always looked forward to these meetings. Conversing with you was so easy, it just felt so natural to him. He loved how well spoken you sounded. You were always researching something about a different charm or spell. You were always experimenting with some new charm or spell to get different reactions out of it.

A couple times you tried testing it out on him as you both worked together. You hadn’t meant for as many mishaps as you had, but George enjoyed them nonetheless.

One time, you were attempting to give shoes a pair of wings. After hearing this fun fact, George offered up a pair of his shoes. Your spell went just a tad awry, giving his shoes a rat tail, ears, and four legs. His shoes scurried away down some drainage. They’re still wandering around the undergrounds of the castle to this day…

Another time, you were practising a transfiguration spell with George. This time it was actually for your project and not just some random experiment you conjured up. You turned him into a ferret. A bloody ferret. You were casting the spell, when someone knocked into your wand hand, thus redirecting the spell towards George instead of the wooden box that sat on the table in front of you.

You had no clue what to do. You hurriedly picked him up and ran to McGonagall. She just sighed and turned him back as soon as you explained why in the world you came running to her with a ferret in your hands.

“George, I am so so sorry!” You blushed while frantically apologising to him. He laughed and just said, “It’s all good love. No harm done!” You both ended up bonding over these little mishaps. George ended up loving so many of them he had you help implement some of your random charms into the Weasley twin tricks and sweets.

Finally, the night before, you both finished the project. You just wrote about the importance of casting transfiguration spells correctly. As well as incorporating the charms that would turn people into animals. (Yes, he begged you to include the time you transformed into a ferret). Though you now knew how to undo that spell. You had to beg McGonagall for that one.

“Hey Y/n, wanna turn me into a ferret again?” George kept pestering you that night to do so. He wanted to show off your skills in class tomorrow. At first you heavily protested. What if you couldn't do it right again? (“That's the point of practice, silly!” George would retaliate. He loved getting you worked up. He also felt honoured that you cared so deeply for his safety.)

You eventually caved, figuring it could be fun. You still had yet to show him your animagus form. Martens and ferrets happened to be of the same family, so why not? You sighed, casting the spell, and watched as he quickly shrank to the form of a ferret. He ran right up to your legs, running around in circles. You giggled at his playfulness and then transformed into your pine marten form.

His little ferret form gave you a shocked face as if to say, “Wtf!? You’re an animagus!? Bloody hell that’s amazing!” He loved this. So. So. Much.

Your presentation went very well! A few times, you had to nudge George in the arm to keep speaking, he’d get lost in your words, listening to your voice. Once he got speaking though, he really did take over a lot.

After this, he, like Fred, would insist that you keep hanging out. You would often join him for meals or trips to Hogsmeade, along with some other Gryffindor friends.

George wanted to form a strong friendship bond with you. He did so, without even realising he fell for you, until Fred’s words hit him deep one time.

He would always make sure to hold your hand and buy you a couple treats at Honeydukes. He knew all of your favourite candies by now.

If it was cold, he would lend you his scarf and hold your hand inside his coat pocket. He rarely would leave your side for anything.

Everytime your hand was in his, his heart would skip a beat. Or if you weren’t beside him, he found himself longing for your presence.

Fred would make fun of him endlessly, but lovingly, for how whipped he was for you.

He would often sneak into your dorm/common room late at night and pester you to cast the ferret spell again, and have you run around with him in your pine marten form. He loved roaming the halls with you as a little animal. You wouldn’t get caught near as much unless McGonagall was roaming for some reason. It was much easier to hide away from authority.

It was one fateful night, you both scurried your way up to the astronomy tower in your animal forms. Once you reached the top, you transformed back into your human form, and undid the ferret spell on George. You were both panting heavily, large grins spread across your faces, as Mrs. Norris had almost caught the two of you.

George stared into your eyes, admiring the starlight that reflected so beautifully in them. He could never get enough of your beauty. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and summoned the courage to speak. “Y/n, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a little while now,” he began, a little shaky, but full of sincerity.

You looked towards him, a blush rising to your ears already, “What is it, Georgie?” He smiled at the use of his nickname from you.

He grasped both of your hands, intertwining both of yours and his fingers together. “Well, ever since I’ve gotten to know you from our project, I’ve really come to appreciate and admire your brilliance, scheming, creativity, and the special feelings of the moments we spend together.” He confessed, a blush now covering his face.

“Oh really now?” A large smile grew on your face as you brought one of your hands up to softly caress the side of his face and into his hair. As if to urge him to continue.

“I-I’ve realised that my feelings for you are more than just friends. I really want to be something more than just good ol’ pals, y’know? You just, light up my whole world, brighten every day!” He paused as he was getting really excited. “I’ve fallen for you Y/n, and I cannot get up. I would really love for you, if you would take me as your boyfriend?” His face almost matched his hair colour. He was bright red, his heart was pounding twice as fast, waiting for your reply.

“Oh, Georgie, of course I would!” Your voice responded, full of love and tenderness. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear something like that from you. Your humour and kindness, how you see me for who I really am, it’s been amazing getting to spend time with you. So of course! As long as you’ll have me as your girlfriend!” You both laughed. He picked you up into a hug and spun you around.

When he set you back down, you stayed in each other’s warm embrace for a while. Breathing in each other’s scents, you both appreciated the peacefulness and love that surrounded your atmosphere now.

==============================

End a/n: I really hope this last one made sense xD. I lost my mind a little trying to write it out. Hope you enjoyed!

#nicosnwrites #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley #george weasley #george weasly x reader #george weasley x y/n #weasley twins #hp headcanon

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theresattrpgforthat · 10 months

Note

Hey, I've been thinking of maybe getting into TTRPGs, but I don't really have any friends in person that are into that sort of stuff (I do have online friends who are into it, though). Do you have any recommendations for a/some good "solo" ttrpg for beginners.

THEME: Free Solo Games for First-Timers.

Hello friend! I managed to find a whole cluster of free roleplaying games, so I hope you find something here that tickles your fancy! There’s some story games, some survival games, and some that are in between.

Lycans & Lawyers, by GorgonHead.

You are one of Capitol's top lawyers. You also turn into a werewolf at night.

Welcome to Moondale, one of Capitol's nicer districts! Your law firm is based here, and most of your clients come from here. It is you job to keep them from getting convicted, even if they are guilty.

And they are. You must employ your best skills, both as a lawyer and as a lycan, to keep them safe from the Union's law long hands. To manage this, you'll have to do some shady things. But it's all for the good of the client!

This is a simple, one page game with a lot to play with. It has a few paragraphs of lore, a map to help you visualize your neighbourhood, and two moon tracks to follow. You’ll have two different sets of stats depending on whether you are in your werewolf mode or your lawyer mode, as well as a series of roll tables to set the scene. If you like a concrete goal but also some flexibility in the details that you get to contribute to the story, you might like this game.

Strandead, by chuymarin.

Awakening amidst the boundless stretch of the open ocean, the unsettling sensation of isolation grips your soul. What lies ahead in this abyss, lurking within the depths of the ominous waters? The weight of impending threats gnaws at your very core.

A solo hexcrawl for the survivalist at heart. Travel across an ocean and roll for encounters, fish, and random items as you try to survive for X number of days out on the open seas. With two difficulty modes and an optional QR-linked random generator of rumours, you’ll have an excellent combination of randomness and strategy to keep you invested. Perfect for folks who prefer balancing numbers and don’t want to fill in a narrative from prompts.

Fortress in the Frozen Wastes, by August Wigg.

Set in the post-apocalyptical land of the Frozen Wastes, a young Ranger must journey to an outlaw fortress to rescue their captured mentor and a group of settlers. Customize your Ranger to be proficient in different skills and choose different paths as you attempt to save the prisoners of the Fortress in the Frozen Wastes.

This is a combination of a traditional roleplaying adventure and a choose-your own adventure story. You’ll create a character sheet with stats, character abilities and inventory slots, and success and failure depend on a d10 roll. Your character dies if their endurance ever gets to 0, so you’ll do your best to navigate each new situation you encounter and make choices that keep your ranger alive long enough to fulfill their quest.

5 Min Knight, by enui.

5-Min-Knight is small one-player RPG about being a Knight of the round table. It takes 5 minutes to play.

This is basically a writing challenge, with a number of d6 tables that you’ll use for writing prompts. You are meant to roll and write as much as you can in 5 minutes - when the timer is up, you roll again to see what called you away. This is a great exercise if you’re looking for a way to practise your creativity, or if you don’t have that much time in a day to play.

If you’re more interested in solving mysteries, you can also try 5 Min Maven, by the same creator, inspired by Brindlewood Bay!

Curiosity Killed?, by Zole Tsoi.

Playing as a cat wandering the streets of a futuristic city, you are tasked with helping ghosts of the underworld who have unfinished business.

This is a one page game that uses a d4 for pretty much everything. You’ll want to keep an eye on your three stats, because if they get too high or too low, your cat is forced to end their mission early or gets stuck. Get your Stress down to 1 or your Morality up to 5 to win the game!

Homunculus, by DOMINO CLUB

Alchemy is a dirty, tiring, thankless job. I’ve let this absorb my whole life, and I’ve now gotten to the point where I’m ready to move on.

In this game, you play as an homunculus, newly created by an alchemist to explore the world .

Homunculus is a game that starts you off with quite a bit of guidance, easing you into play by setting you up with prompts connected to cards you draw from the deck. Card suits are connected to four stats in this game, which you will attempt to increase equally in order to gain the best possible ending. This game allows for a few replays if you are interested in getting different endings, but it also relies on interpreting prompts as drawn by the cards. If you like a game where you’re reaching a specific target, you might like Homunculus.

The Dukes Aid, by g0ri.

On the frontiers of space, an interstellar empire exists in a perilous balance. As a close aide of a Duke and his house, your job is to navigate safely through the coming intrigues.

Observe the plans within plans within plans as your House takes over the production of the Empire’s most important resource.….

The Duke's Aide is a solo roleplaying game requiring at least half an hour, a set of roleplaying dice, a deck of cards and something to write with and on. This is a proper journaling game, using a deck of cards to supply prompts, jokers included to help pace the game out for you. You’ll choose a character class, which also determines the dice you roll, which you’ll need every time your character tries something risky. This is a great introduction to a journaling game that still gives you a lot to work with if you don’t feel super comfortable extrapolating from prompts.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

The Wandering Library, by AP.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #solo games #free games

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jellyfishsthings · 10 months

Text

My lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.

Warnings: my shit writing, violence (kinda?)

part 2

I will be the first person to say it. School is boring. And that is a lot since Nevermore is no ordinary school. The only class that is interesting, yet exhausting, is this one. Mrs Smith is sitting across from me. Staring intensely in my eyes, trying to find the weak spot in my mental shield. We have been at it for hours and I have managed to preserve my resolve. Until now. She finally breaks in.

"So what is it about you? You seem quite ordinary to be going to that school." The cute Barnstaple across from me asks. He has nice brown hair that curls at his ears. Deep thoughtful eyes. He is mundane or better yet, ordinary, as he called me. He is perfect. But something about him screams certain danger. Tyler, Tyler Galpin, whom I have come to know as my best friend. My dreamy best friend, who I moon over day and night and constantly plagues my thoughts.

"That is top secret agent type of shit, you can not know" I answered him with a chuckle.

The memory soon fades, as fast as it appeared. I feel my shoulders sag from exhaustion and I try to find sense in the safety of my magical pendant. The one that keeps others at bay while also containing my powers. The one that keeps me safe not only from others but also from myself. Mind control is not easy stuff, you have to be hyperfocus. Do you want to control something or someone? You have to draw all your willpower and pour it into that task. Which is tough shit. Making someone forget or simply reading their thoughts or memories, even manipulating them is now as natural as breathing. Shielding yourself from others with the same powers is the hardest. There aren't many of us but we are more powerful than anyone else. So if you slip up, you are vulnerable to the world.

You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.

My ears are ringing. My mind is reeling. Each breath I take feels like hell. They are uneven, torturous and slow

"Drink this" I feel a cold water bottle touch my bottom lip. I drink the offered water greedily. My vision from hazy slowly starts turning itself clear and I can make out my surroundings again. "Better?" I nod and wait for the lecture to start. "So your shield lasted over two hours. You are strong, you know that, but you can not let yourself get lost in your daydreams. Especially when we are practising ".

"Yeah I know, I know" I heave, still trying to stabilize my breathing.

"Go rest"

I get up slowly. Unsteady on my feet and wandering through the halls while feeling my way in the walls, trailing my fingertips in the cold stoned wall. I enter my dorm and change out of my uniform. Putting on a white oversized shirt, half buttoned and collapsing in my bed.

The hours pass as I am in a half-awake state. Being aware of the room around me, but my organism turns to its usual state. And so I dream. I dream of him. What it would be like to kiss. What it would be like to date.

I am startled awake as my roommate slams the door behind her wake. Wednesday in her usual lack of colour stops in the middle of the room and sharply looks at me. "Good, you are awake".

I sigh rolling my eyes "What do you want?"

"I am going to the house I was telling you about. I might need your help."

"Why?"

"Because you are useful."

"Jee thanks. It feels good to be appreciated. "

The sun has finally set and we walk towards the school's entrance door, where a familiar Jeep awaits. Tyler, he is here. Enid and Wednesday are wearing their matching hoodie scarf things, as usual, I am left out. As usual, Wednesday climbs in the passenger seat, my seat, and Tyler doesn't say a word about that, instead, he flirts with her. He doesn't even greet me or ask about my day, as he used to.

I silently seeth as we arrive at what looks like a haunted manor. We break in and we start wandering through the house trying to find evidence. At some point, we are separated. As I walk into what looks like an old girl's bedroom, I feel a presence behind me, the hair on my neck standing as I grab the nearest object ready to attack.

Yet a strong hand shoots out and stops my blow easily. "Hey there. Be careful, Rockey, you wouldn't want to hit me, now would you?" The breath is knocked out of me. The moonlight hits him just right, highlighting his features, the soft smile, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline. His laughing face turns into one of confusion. He opens his mouth ready to ask me something, when a strange sound echoes through the room.

He grabs me and flushes me to his chest. He places his hand to my mouth and I feel my heart race. I can feel every plain of his body against mine. His defined chest rises and falls in a crazy rhythm, and his hands hold me in place with urgency. We must stay like this for a few seconds or mere minutes but it feels like hours as I try to catalog his characteristics.

"I will go check, it must have been the girls, please stay here."

"What? No, I am coming with you."

"Please." He uses that voice. The one he knows that can convince me to do anything.

So I stay put. Until I see a light shining into the forest. I find myself following it. Threading through the trees and the fallen leaves. Someone moves just out of sight. A knife is thrown my way and I drop to the ground. The figure stalks towards me and as I think that I am doomed. The Hyde makes its appearance, attacking what I assumed to be a man, tiring him to shreds. After it's done it turns my way, snuffing the air as I am frozen in place, terrified to the bone.

The sound of bones breaking fills the air as the monster in front of me turns into a … boy? A familiar one. He is covered in blood and unconscious. I make a quick decision and drag him towards his house, cleaning him up in his bathtub and stitching up the scratch wound on his pecs. Tyler is the Hyde. The Hyde is Tyler. They are one and the same.

I am watching him, studying him while he sleeps. He looks so peaceful yet troubled. I creep towards his father's room and find some handcuffs, thank you Sheriff Galpin, and tie him up in his headboard, waiting till he awakes.

words: 1.154 (there will be a pt.2.... propably?)

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin smut #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin angst

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batsplat · 3 months

Note

seen people talk about how marcs 2012 season was the reason the penalty point system was introduced (that made vale start from the back in 2015 which is admittedly absolutely absurdly funny) so here i am to ask my favorite motogp historian for thoughts (and prayers?) mostly about what exactly marc DID to make that happen (kinda funny also that he was branded a track terrorist from day 1 😭) and why they struck it in the mid 2010s?

okay so I'm gonna be lazy here and start out by just including what I put in the marc race recs post:

phillip island 2011 was the worst incident, and marc was criticised by motogp riders too, including valentino and casey. that one was like... it was just straight up dangerous and also incredibly stupid, I mean you're trying to get an extra lap in at the end of fp1 and are putting yourself and other riders in serious danger (definitely a case where you can argue that the penalty didn't go far enough and a race ban would have been warranted). marc can sometimes be pretty bullish in response to criticism while still going away and kinda realising what he'd done was a bad idea, quietly adjusting his behaviour... examples include this, where he had his team appeal the penalty, as well as of course 2018 argentina, where he talked down the 'mistakes' he'd made and said he'd done more wrong in the aleix than the valentino incident (which may be true, but it's the rhetorical equivalent of saying it's better to go up to someone's home and throw bricks through the windows than it is to set it on fire) - he is fairly good at learning from his mistakes, even when he doesn't always fully admit to them

that being said, of course he did continue getting himself involved in a fair bit of controversy during 2012. but it's worth pointing out that the penalty points system wasn't just a case of 'oh this kid is so bad, we've got to do something' - it was also a case of 'yeah this is being handled in a super inconsistent manner, actually'. like, there were times people felt marc should be penalised more, yes, but other times where they felt it was too much... it was just a bit all over the place. luckily, inconsistent stewarding is a problem they've managed to fix in the intervening twelve years, so we never hear about that stuff any more. let's just give a quick summary of the four biggest 2012 flashpoints:

qatar: marc runs luthi off-track in a deliberate and pretty dangerous way and gets a slap on the cooldown lap for his troubles, plus a reprimand from race direction

catalunya: towards the end of a race in which marc made several questionable moves, pol espargaro attempted to overtake marc who had just saved a fall - marc cuts across the track to rejoin the racing line and ends up colliding with pol. he was initially given a controversial penalty in the form of a minute added to his final time, before that was rescinded (which was unsuccessfully appealed by pol's team). see here for valentino and casey's reactions

motegi: marc 'torpedoed' kallio in saturday morning practise, riding into his side while kallio was on the racing line headed into a turn and causing kallio to highside... which he was not penalised for. some responses to the incident below

valencia: marc attempted to overtake corsi in friday practise, causing him to crash. this time, race direction handed out a back-of-the-grid penalty

it's a subtle distinction but an important one so I'll just stress it again: the stated aim of the penalty points wasn't to hold back aggressive riders like marc but to attempt to reduce inconsistency, which had been exposed in part due to how differently these marc incidents were handled. what marc did was create several high profile controversies, in each case prompting some level of frustration with how race direction handled the whole thing. obviously, there were other non-marc-related stewarding controversies, but it is inarguable that he was a significant factor in causing a revamp of the system

by the way, here's valentino's criticism of marc after the valencia incident:

here's a quick explanation of how the penalty points worked:

and, you know, for what it's worth marc did calm down in motogp... he certainly became better at operating in the grey area of the rules, approaching his racing in a manner his competitors didn't always appreciate but was certainly a lot harder to penalise. though there were also incidents that of course people felt marc should be penalised for - say after jerez 2013, jorge did kinda go 'okay but surely you can at least give a few penalty points for this, isn't this what they're for'. but it's not like there was unanimous agreement on that, see the immediate responses of some of the riders:

(bradley smith saying that jorge's last serious race was motegi 2005 - the one he got the race ban for - is a bit of an insane stance to take and doesn't really match up to reality, but it did make me laugh so that's something. of course the general point that during the alien era most of them were avoiding doing much actual racing isn't exactly wrong but. still)

not to make this a riding standards post, but this is the underlying tension when you're trying to decide how to regulate the sport... jerez was the first serious test that system faced - and it's one where race direction ended up calling it a pure racing incident. which is a tough call! I talked about it a bit in the sete post and what his stance was on the jerez 2005 incident, where he feels like this isn't a contact sport and shouldn't be adjudicated as such. it's a fundamental philosophical difference that became very relevant again when marc showed up fresh from his controversial moto2 campaign and woke up the entire class with his own particular brand of racing. from a write-up of the jerez 2013 race:

(motegi 2008 not motegi 2010, which is something I remember because casey's pass also allowed valentino to immediately swoop on through. should be noted that casey may have apologised but he did not give the position back to dani lol. also motegi 2010 is pretty memorable if we're talking about hard racing. fair to say that valentino demonstrated he did not share the approach of his fellow aliens when battling jorge)

and more on the shift marc brought about:

this is the thing, right - a big part of understanding that time period is concerning yourself with what came just before. the general feeling (unsurprisingly not shared by casey, jorge or dani) was that the series desperately needed some new life breathed into it, that the racing had become stale and sterile and far too predictable... there were several factors that contributed to this, from the beloathed 800cc bikes that were only replaced in 2012, to the approach of those three aliens and how adept they'd become at racking up wins by dominating out front, to how valentino (generally considered the most 'exciting' racer of the lot) had taken himself out of the competitive picture... I mean, in all honesty the racing is still not great in 2013 compared to the rossi heyday (it had gotten better by the very end of the 2010s), but of course there's a lot more energy to it than the years before. which meant the sport as a whole was in a tricky place where they both had to be seen to be constraining marc, stopping him from being an active danger to himself and others, while also kind of... letting him loose. a little bit of controversy is hardly a bad thing, after all - love him or hate him, everyone had a take, and that's the kind of thing that's obviously healthy for a sport

marc did get two penalty points that year for ignoring yellow flags in silverstone and crashing in the same place as cal crutchlow had just gone down:

(for obvious reasons, 'ignoring yellow flags' is extremely dangerous, but there's no reason to believe he wasn't being honest here)

he was also given another penalty point for the contact that caused dani's crash in aragon, taking him perilously close to that back-of-the-grid penalty:

and that was basically their position - it's a warning. broadly they wanted him to not completely revamp his approach, but just apply a little more discretion, exercise his judgement. a little more caution, a little more restraint. it's still fundamentally a different philosophy of racing than the one that had been espoused for several years by the other aliens save for valentino - but marc could get to a place where he was engaging in hard racing that generally toed the line without crossing it. a little more detail on the aragon incident and marc's approach to racing in the context of the time period from this write-up:

this is the issue, right, marc was riding on just the right line of acceptable that race direction would not have in any way been justified in slapping out race bans - though you can certainly argue that in some cases, you could have handed out more penalty points, which would then have meant he would have faced more 'real' consequences. in any case, they couldn't actually 'teach him a lesson', because he'd already more or less learned it... if the lesson is 'hard racing and contact is fine, just don't overdo it'. which of course, not everyone would agree with. the odd memorable exception aside, throughout marc's premier class career he's been very aware of that line, and has taken care to avoid bringing the wrath of race direction upon himself too severely

the penalty points thing and sepang 2015... well, first of all let's quickly bring in what the actual ruling was:

honestly, I imagine that if they didn't have a penalty points system, they would've figured out a different way to penalise him, and might have slapped him with a back-of-the-grid penalty anyway. not in a 'oh the fim had it out for valentino rossi!!!!' way, more that they did need to be seen doing something. the penalty points felt like a fairly elegant way of giving a penalty that wasn't that harsh and wasn't making any judgement calls over whether valentino deliberately kicked marc, while also in an indirect way ensuring that valentino would suffer consequences. and yes, it is a nice bit of dramatic irony - but the piece says it, the penalty "had to be severe enough for rossi to feel truly punished". the penalty points happened to be the tool they had available and perhaps with a different set of rules, valentino would have been handed a slightly different flavour of punishment. but really, this is more 'fun historical coincidence' than something that massively changed the events that played out

of course, it was a controversial decision that few people felt 100% comfortable with. on the one hand, if you believe that valentino kicked marc, then you probably would have wanted him to be disqualified - three measly penalty points does not feel enough in that situation. on the other, if you believe that valentino engaged aggressively with marc but without deliberately trying to make him crash, then a back-of-the-grid penalty that essentially decided the outcome of the championship before the final race even started is a tough pill to swallow. (of course there's also a position somewhere in between where valentino didn't literally kick marc but did attempt to run him off track, which would make the penalty 'about right'.) of course, the championship standings should ideally not determine what sort of penalties are being handed out - but equally, it's something that did limit the intrigue going into the race, and over something that felt quite arbitrary. the other penalty point he'd gotten to rack up the four total was about a qualifying incident in misano - which either feels like a silly thing to determine the ultimate outcome of the championship, or instead is a demonstration of how the cumulative nature of the points system is supposed to work. but yes, it did get a lot of criticism in the aftermath, with concerns over whether future title fights could end up being defanged as an indirect consequence of relatively minor incidents earlier in the season

and of course, the penalty points were eventually scrapped in early 2017. here's a bit more on that decision:

basically, sepang 2015 was a contributing factor to broader changes in how motogp was regulated, which down the line had the knock-on effect of getting rid of that penalty system entirely. rightly or wrongly, race direction felt like they had better tools available to penalise riders and this system was now redundant. anyway [insert another lazy gag about how the switch to a stewards panel has completely failed in eliminating controversy from stewarding] [insert pithy closing line] [press post]

#not to get into stewarding discourse on a tumblr blog but personally I wasn't really a fan of dropping the penalty points #marc marquez #motogp #//#mm93 #batsplat responds #i was flicking through casey's autobiography looking for what he said about valentino's behaviour in 2006 while writing the sepang '19 post #and rereading some of his other valentino comments just before reading that jerez 2013 write-up did make me go. god #I almost think I undersold how much casey would've hated racing marc. like you think valentino is terrible??#'to ride as close as we do at that speed you have to really respect and trust each other. we get to understand the body language of other -#- riders and learn there are ways to pass someone without making contact; without pushing people onto the kerb; but somehow valentino -#- and I weren't on the same wavelength and as a result I always felt I had to be super-alert when I raced him'#yeah no #valentino ended up being tied to a lot of the things casey despised about the sport but marc is like casey's sleep paralysis demon

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inkyquince · 2 years

Text

Patreon Post: Innocent Crush (Eden the Hunter)

content warning. Male Reader with Feminization, Noncon turned Dubcon, Breeding.

He couldn’t help it. It was your fault. Everything was your fucking fault. Leading him on with that smile, that helpful attitude, that fucking glimmer in your eyes. It made something in his stomach twist, and made his heart hammer in his chest… Made his cock swell in his stained school trousers.

You’re just some little shit that sits in front of him in History class, how dare you do any of this to him. Especially since you’re trying to make him think… Trying to make him… He… He isn’t gay. He doesn’t like guys. That’s for Briar who lets horny classmates hump his thighs, or Leighton, who won’t stop fucking looking at him in the changing rooms, or Harper, who loves daring everyone to kiss, quivering in his seat.

He isn’t like that. Eden likes women. The ones in those dirty magazines, with hairless pussies and big tits. He’d jerk his cock at the pictures, thinking about when he gets to finally fuck. Groping the bouncy breasts and fucking the squishy cunts, and loosing himself in the feeling of being fully taken into someone. He wanted to fuck women.

So why was this little shit making him feel all this stuff?

He was so nice. The only person who gave Eden a proper smile when passing in the hallways. Gave him his spare pen once.Gave him a flash of your ass when changing into your swim shorts and it wasn’t his fault for popping a stiffy. You’ve… You’ve got a girl’s ass!

So, why would anyone blame him? Anyone would do it if they were led on like he was.

The wet slapping that echoed around the locker room was so loud, loud enough that anyone else would be worried that someone would come investigate. Not Eden. Not when he’s got you where he wants you. In stolen swimwear, folded over the bench as his cock fucked your virgin ass over and over again. You trusted him. Stupid bastard, you trusted him. Why would you stay back after the rest when he asked you? He hated swimming, but he was good at it. Maybe he should have asked you to the lake for a breaststroke practise session, and fucked you against one of the rocks. At least then the smell of chlorine wouldn’t be irritating him as much. It would also be cute watching you struggle not to gulp down lake water as you struggled to maintain a grip, wet and fucked open and your cock struggling not to cum, like it was now.

Just a half an hour practice session. Stupid bitch you were, you believed him and didn’t even fight him when he wrestled you to the ground and started to strip you, not in a way that mattered. Your fists pounding against his back didn’t feel like anything. So weak, like a girl. Even the yelp and objections that began to pour from your lips as he yanked a tight, little swimsuit out from his bag and began to force your legs in first was nothing to him. Worst of all, you looked just as good as he thought you would. Cock stuffed behind the tight elastic, putting pressure on your chest to make it puff out like a pair of, admittedly, small tits. Your ass… Your ass remained the best part. Slipping out the tight costume, the way it made you look like the women in bikinis he’d stare at from across the way. Except, now, his hard cock was brushing against the skin. The pretty, soft, biteable skin.

You struggled to take his dick. Of course you did, You had such a small hole but you could take his fingers easily. He knew you were some sort of queer, one that wanted to try and draw him in, but he beat you. Stuffing your boy pussy full of his cock, slamming you back on him over and over and over again.

“E-Eden! Please!” You gave a sob, clawing at the bench that he had you bent over, leaving deep scratch marks on the wood.

It just made his stomach tighten at the sight. Tears streaming down your face, the tight swimsuit digging painfully into your skin, with one shoulder of the costume having ripped already, showing off those cute little nipples, so girly. Eden did think it was a shame that you were crying, that if you’d just stop putting up such a fucking fuss, you’d be able to really enjoy being fucked like a girl. Didn’t all gay guys love this? It wasn’t until he roughly yanked you onto your back and saw the little tented bulge in the crotch of the stolen swimsuit. You were hard. He could only stare, open mouthed, at the sight.

“D-Don’t look!” You covered your tear streaked face only to have one of your hands ripped away and pressed against your nipple.

“Play with your tits.” Eden breathed, still fixated on your little cock, and the way precum began to seep through the material.

Of course you liked it. Your boypussy loved his big cock and being stretched open and being fucked. Your erection bobbed cutely as he resumed his sloppy thrusts, the loud squishing of your insides being bullied echoing around the tiled room once more. Your whines sounded less pained, filled with tears, and more pleasured, cute little hiccups and moans. You didn’t want to enjoy this. You didn’t. But the wet, sweaty cling of the swimsuit against your body, the rhythmic pounding deep inside of your ass, even the cool air against your freed chest, was all too much for your poor body. Eden fucked you like a fleshlight, something that had you useless and boneless and spreading your legs so that the heated knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter with mindless pleasure.

You looked prettiest like this. Drooling and stupid and your stretched out hole begging for more. Eden was enraptured. Such a pretty boy, no, girl. You could be his little girlfriend. Breed your tight boy-pussy everyday, force you to stay in his small, dingy room and just be face down in his sweaty pillows as he fucked you. Maybe he can steal a girl’s uniform, so that everyone would now know that Eden finally had a girlfriend, who had such a pretty swollen clit whenever he started playing with her pussy. It’s all he wants. To be one of those couples that pull each other into bathrooms and let you hump his cock for the entire lunch hour, finger you in the library, slip behind you during swimming lessons and plug you up as you struggled not to alert the teacher that you were being bred.

Lost in his little daydream, Eden leered down at you, ruthlessly fucking your ass until your poor rim was swollen and sore. As he leaned down to lick your puffy nipple into his mouth and suck at the pretty little thing, you could just wrap your arms around his neck, lost in the boy that you tried so hard to befriend, only to be pinned down and fucked and raped.

#patreon post #degrees of lewdity #dol #nsft #eden the hunter #quincewrites

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sandyca5tle · 4 months

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Slime HRT - 14 Months

Slime time again my good folks (I really ought to start making more slime puns)! I’m here again with the 14 month update and things have continued to get gooier

Firstly: No more bones!! In my arms and legs at least, and gods that’s been wonderful just being able to freely move my limbs around however I want. Obviously beforehand, while my bones were still there, I could move my limbs a bunch already (see the previous entry with puddle legs), but it just feels so much better and free-er now that they’re gone - it’s hard to explain properly. If I had to, I’d guess it’s not feeling my bones move around whenever I do stuff, so it makes it nicer to move. Also helps I don’t have to worry about losing my bones too now, so I am more willing/able to try out weirder shapes and motions.

Adding to this; it’s kinda strange, my arms no longer really feel ‘segmented’ like they did before. Humans (it really doesn’t make sense to include myself in that anymore, if it ever did) have a very defined forearm and upper arm, but slimes, well, we (hehe, it’s nice to include myself in ‘slimes’) just kinda have limbs. My arm is just my arm, and honestly, it’s barely that distinct, arms and legs just kinda feel like the same thing, just in a different shape, and it’s really only the intellectual distinction that one is arms and one is legs. Even fingers are just kind of like, extra, tiny, limbs, which has been a kinda weird realisation to have and experience. Also: Elbows are a suggestion, and knees, given that my limbs are just kinda long pseudopods when it comes down to it, so they bend everywhere, not just at a designated point. It’s kinda funky being able to manipulate my slime like I can now ‘cause, on one hand, it just kinda feels like moving a muscle, but that muscle is connected to every other muscle in that area, and basically the whole limb is muscle.

Anyways, with all my new mobility, I’ve been practising my shaping, and I’ve actually gotten pretty good at it. I’ve been able to make things like spades, hammers and such on the ends of my arms, and I’ve been experimenting with different kinds of feet/legs as well, like mermaid tails and talons. I have tried making arm-blades and stuff too, but it turns out it’s actually quite hard to make sharp edges - so far I’ve only gotten about as sharp as a butter knife, and that took a lot of concentration. Turns out ‘sharp’ isn’t exactly a slime speciality

As for the rest of my body: the skin on my torso has all turned to slime now, due to the two-fronted assault from both my legs and arms it turned quicker than the limbs had individually. It’s still very weird see musculature through my goo, and I know it weirds other people out even more so, so I try to keep my torso as covered as possible, which absolutely sucks when it’s hot, although I have forgone covering for the sake of staying upright when it’s gotten really hot, even if I do now run a bit cooler than I used to.

On the note of the new/extra slime, I’ve actually tried to do some shaping using that, trying to give myself a tail. While I did have some extra slime thanks to most of my fat having been converted to goo, it wasn’t really enough to make anything more than a large bunny-esque tail - which was cute, but I’m looking for something a little longer and more prehensile. I guess I’ll have to wait for more things to dissolve to give me the substance to make myself a tail like I want..

It’s also worth adding that if a slime shifts something for long enough, it ends up sticking, kinda like muscle memory, but for shape. To that end, I’ve actually been practising keeping the claws and talons that I’ve learnt how to make, since I’ve found that they feel nice, even if they’re not quite perfect. My only issue, with the talons specifically, is that they make me taller, something which I really don’t need, but I’m hoping once I can shape my whole body I can adjust such things.

One last thing I’ve been able to do now, is that I can now move slime freely between all of my body - so I can easily reach things if I need to, just by taking the mass from somewhere else and giving it to one of my arms to make it longer. This too has contributed to this newer mindset of ‘I’m just one blob of slime, with shapes coming out of it that I have assigned functions’, a leg isn’t a leg when it’s a super long arm, so distinct anatomy is kind of shrinking away, even if 20 odd years of humanity says ‘an arm is an arm, and a leg is a leg’. This is only further worsened by the fact that I can also just make legs arms and arms legs, so yeah, ‘legs’ and ‘arms’ are really becoming just descriptors of limb functions for me.

That’s all to really report this time, nothing super new or surprising, just adjusting as I become more and more slime now! See you in the next update! Ps. thanks to the person (@bdigfreakingwooper) who suggested using a lint screen to help with the random crap that gets stuck in my slime, running that through my limbs has been really nice and does keep me very clean! Although occationally some of my slime does get stuck since it's not quite the same as water, but it's so minor it's fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Been loving the various comments 'nd stuff that people have written, and I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying this! If you want more slime HRT stuff @scrubbinn has just started their own that's neat, so you should check theirs out too over here.

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#slime hrt #slime girl #non-human hrt #species hrt #humanity replacement therapy #transgender #my writing #therian hrt #otherkin hrt

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slowd1ving · 3 months

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UNFORTUNATE BACKUP・゜ MIGUEL O'HARA NSFW

It's just you against fate. Unfortunately, it's hell-bent towards pairing you with the most annoying person in existence ever. Medical Researcher/Field Doctor reader, GN but he is used exactly 1 time warnings: nsfw, violence, tension (resolved), degradation wrote this for my friend a while back so it's not my usual style ;; lowkey clueless abt medical stuff so I'm sorry if that's obvious... this would've done numbers here if I actually posted this when itsv came out but as you can tell I just could not be asked if you've seen this before, it was posted to ao3 like a year ago by yours truly!!! wc: 7.5k

MISC. MASTERLIST . 　⁺ MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Maybe it’s fate playing a silly little prank on you when you don’t see Jessica waiting for you at the abandoned Alchemax you’re investigating. Maybe she’s late? You shift from side to side, wishing you brought your insulating suit to combat the frigid wind sweeping through the clearing where you stand.

“Jess?” you hesitantly call out, even though you know it’s utterly foolish to do so when you haven’t even surveyed the surroundings. You can’t help but feel a pang of worry at her absence; it’s only the rustling leaves that answer your call.

“You’re late.” it’s not Jessica’s voice that sounds out from the shadows of the Alchemax entrance. As your eyes struggle to make out who exactly spoke, he steps out into the weak rays of sun. It’s… Miguel? What the fuck is he doing here? Rarely do you ever see him, since the medical research facility is practically a gazillion miles away from his office-cave.

“Sorry,” you try to inject some sincerity into your tone since he’s your superior, but it’s proving difficult when you’re literally on time . You slowly push open the creaky revolving door (which is ridiculously heavy, but you refuse to let him see your struggle).

“While you were taking your sweet time,” Miguel pauses to shoulder the door open with practised ease, ignoring your exasperated sigh. “I already surveyed the building for you.”

Literally nobody asked. You bite back the retort, feeling your face contort into a very impolite expression. Don’t lose your job.

“Thank you,” you force out, surveying the entrance hall with a critical eye and an infrared detector scope. No signs of biological life here, it seems. It’s unusually quiet; normally these facilities are crawling with anomalies and other beings, which is why this is a job for two.

“Where’s Jessica?” you ask offhandedly, following Miguel up the emergency stairs. You don’t want to make conversation with this standoffish man, but anything beats the very awkward feeling in the air. “Have you kidnapped her or something?”

“A comedian,” you can hear him mutter under his breath in annoyance. He doesn’t turn to face you. “She sent me to work with you, since she had something urgent come up back in her home world.”

So she hasn’t just left you for the fun of it. Cool. You don’t say anything in response, choosing to run the objectives of your mission through your mind instead. Find the DNA lab, grab some spider-DNA, then do the same in the pathogen department. Back at base, they’ll be used to drive forward immunity research you’ve been conducting with your colleague.

“The first stop is here,” Miguel informs you curtly, pointing to the frosted glass door in the middle of the corridor. You wordlessly move to gather your specimens, noting how the room is unexpectedly in great condition. The samples are all fresh too, dating only a month back. Great. It’s unusual, but you’ll take it. It’s the same with the virus specimens you’ve managed to get - the Alchemax was probably abandoned very recently.

“Done,” you don’t see the point in trying to be amiable when Miguel clearly isn’t. We’re never going to be buddies.

It’s a very pleasant week that flies past without you seeing him. Even though you’re permanently part of the team, you’re rarely ever assigned an active combat mission since you’re one of the few medics available in the facility. Seriously, why are there so few medical Spiders? Regardless, your line of work means that you won’t be in contact with Miguel any time soon. Or so you hope. But fate likes its silly little jokes.

“They sent you for backup?” the question flies out of Miguel’s mouth when you step out of the portal into the dimly lit streets of Earth-152. A symphony of police sirens and rain splashing onto the pavement is heard in the background; it’s a fitting orchestra for this annoying scene.

“Is there a problem?” your fist clenches around the strap of your medic bag as you fight to keep your frustration at a simmer. It’s not often that you’re called in for backup to tackle such a large-scale anomaly (see: never ), but you’re good with combat and injuries. Objectively, you’re an exemplary ally to have when fighting - is this fool denying that? “Or can I do my job?”

“He’s just worried because it’s a big operation,” Jess interjects from behind you. What a relief. She elbows him from where she sits astride her motorcycle, looking pointedly at him. “ Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything as he turns to look at his wristband, which currently projects what appears to be a map of the area. You ignore the slight, turning to face Jess with your brows furrowed. “Any updates?”

“The target should be appearing within the next few minutes,” she quickly pulls up her own projections to show you a blurry photo of the target. “We’re capturing him alive and heading back to headquarters. Target’s particularly strong, so be careful.”

“Right,” your affirmation is interrupted by incessant red blinking from the map hologram. Your breath catches in your throat at the tantalising prospect of finally fighting. Two streets away. You follow Jess out of the alleyway into the blaring lights of the city, feeling the neon lights soak into your very being . Warm summer rain sluices away all your wariness before your webs propel you to the side of a glass skyscraper.

The target’s nowhere to be found on the roof of the building he’s supposed to be on. Frustration makes itself palpable in the air and you can’t help but feel the dawning horror of apprehension. What’s going on?

“Ambush!” your mouth forms the warning just as you spot several clones of the target emerging on the roof of the building. You’re not sure if Miguel or Jess heard your cry of shock, but you can’t check on either of them as the clones of the target start surrounding you. You can’t afford that; your webs are laced with a potent tranquilizer that makes quick work of those in your immediate vicinity. It’s not enough - the hordes that emerge from your peripherals are surrounding you anyway.

“I’ll take care of these,” Jess’ motorcycle makes quick work of a good portion of the clones - they disintegrate pretty rapidly when hit with the heavy vehicle. “Miguel’s on track to find the main body. It’ll go faster if you also look for it.”

“Right,” you know Jess will be fine; her motorcycle and quick wits will let her tackle this crowd with ease. Find the main body. Your gut tells you it’s not going to be far away. In fact, your senses are urging you to check out the derelict factory a few blocks away. And who are you to ignore them?

“Where are you, where are you,” you mumble to yourself as you swing towards the building. Its imposing structure almost halts you in your tracks, but you know something is lurking within. The angry clouds swirling above don’t make the situation any less menacing, but you ignore the unfortunate weather. No use in shaking in your boots because of some clouds.

Luckily, there’s a row of windows in the shadows of the factory by the roof; it’s an easy objective to lithely creep up the side of the building. There. Concealed within the shadows of rusty machinery is your target, leaning against the wall in a too-casual manner. Before he can spot you, you crawl down until you’re not in view - there, you immediately fire out a call to Miguel from your watch. It’s the first time you’ve ever done so, but the situation calls for it.

“What do you want?” his little hologram’s mask is indented with a sharp annoyance. You should’ve just handled this yourself.

“I’ve found the target,” you retort with whatever venom you can muster. The two of you are colleagues, for fuck’s sake; there’s no use dismissing others like that in the first place. “You can see my location, right?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I finish off this one,” from what you can see, he appears to be fighting a different enemy, judging from the sharp slashing you can faintly make in the background. “Stay exactly where you are until I arrive. Don’t engage in combat.”

“Sure, sarge,” you end the call with your annoyance slowly brimming over the edge. Who knows how long it’ll be before he finishes off that other enemy? You peer back into the factory, intending to continue your little reconnaissance. Your blood runs cold at the view down below. There’s nobody there, not a whisper of a soul down in the depths of those shadows.

“Looking for me?” you almost jump out of your skin when a cheerful voice calls out from below. It’s the target, who’s somehow managed to make his way to the side of the factory you’re currently balanced on.

“Don’t do that,” you spring down to the ground so you can come face to face with the target, clutching your bag to your side. The orders not to engage are still fresh in your mind, but you can’t exactly ignore the situation, can you?

“So, uh,” you begin, noticing the way he leans into the space between you two slightly. Diffuse the situation. Stay calm. His suit is almost as dark as the night itself, and it catches your eye with how it thrums like shaken ink. “Any chance you’ll give up peacefully?”

You already know the answer when he laughs mirthfully, with his head thrown back in sharp amusement. You can almost taste the forceful no that’s about to leave his lips.

“You’re funny,” his razor-edged smile lacks any sort of laughter as he regains his composure. You brace yourself. “But no.”

And you’re ready, ready for the swift kick that comes flying your way. You easily move out of the way, while quickly slinging a web his way - it only scrapes by his upper arm, unfortunately, but it still has the potential to affect him somewhat. Concentrate. The fight will only last a few minutes at worst; it’s absolutely crucial to keep a clear mind.

You alternate between throwing calculated jabs and webs designed to trap opponents to create a perfect feint and secure yourself an opening. One second. One second to carefully strike a tranquilizer web directly at the shirt under his suit. You don’t want to touch whatever makes up that shifting suit. What is it?

That question is answered immediately as clones start emerging from its shadows. Shit. You can see why the guy’s taking so long to be captured; it’s incredibly troublesome when he’s got a whole legion of clones available.

You don’t hesitate.

Steeling yourself, you fire a tranquilizer web straight at him while sending a kick to his side so he evades it right into your line of fire. The web lands on his cheek, which is an excellent target for the tranquilizer to work its wondrous magic. He’s out cold within a second or so. Perfect . It leaves you with plenty of time to ponder how you’re going to explain to Miguel that you’ve (unintentionally!) disobeyed orders within the humongous timespan of ten seconds.

He doesn’t keep you waiting long.

“What did you think I meant when I said to not engage?” Miguel’s annoyance seeps into the air when he sees you standing over the unconscious clone-man.

“It was self-defense,” you argue, holding your hands up in mock-surrender. He’s clearly sceptical with the way his eyes swivel from the knocked-out target on the floor back to you. “Play it back on the watch!”

“Jessica, he’s been apprehended,” Miguel speaks into his watch briefly, before putting his arm back down. It's an uncomfortable feeling; you don’t think you’ve ever been the subject of such an intense, scrutinising glare.

“You did take out the trouble,” he finally admits grudgingly; it feels like somewhat of an accomplishment. Somewhat. “Do a better job of following orders next time.”

You fight the urge to mutter expletives under your breath.

It’s the same song and dance for the next month; fate can’t help but assign you as backup to Miguel’s missions, though it’s strictly limited to medic duties in case someone fucks up. It’s unpleasant - his criticisms of your actions slowly wear down your absolutely bottomless patience like coarse-grit sandpaper pretty quickly.

You wouldn’t call the next mission a fuck up; it can only really be described as an absolute calamity when you step out into the mayhem. It’s an incessant cacophony of blaring sirens and pure carnage - from what you can gather, a gaping abyss is swallowing the buildings above where it’s situated. It’s a disaster.

It’s not really a surprise then, when Miguel forces his way onto the hologram projection on your watch to move you elsewhere, your nerves are frayed.

“Shut the fuck up,” you spit out, scribbling out a list of equipment for an unfortunate intern to bring from the medical facility. You pray what you carry is enough to quench the insatiable hunger of injuries. “Let me do my goddamn job for once.”

You hang up; etiquette be damned in this haze of smoke and debris. Thankfully, there’s no fatalities recorded after the sinkhole is stabilised. On the other hand, the infirmary is going to be very lively for the next week. The movement of your hands can only be described as frenzied with how efficiently you patch up the countless injuries on site - there’s an ever growing mountain of sanguine gauze building up beside you.

It’s only a few hours later that you’re finally allowed a reprieve. You trudge back to the medical facility where one of your few colleagues who’s actually finished training is running around haggardly to care for the incoming patients.

“Can you patch up O’Hara?” he nervously asks you, while you feel your bones wither away. You meet his pleading gaze impassively. “He’s been refusing medical treatment from any of the available interns, and you’re the only one who doesn’t crack under that pressure.”

You want to say no. Your mind’s practically begging you to refuse so you can have him out of mind for some time. But looking upon that pathetically pitiful countenance of your colleague, your resolve softens. This man will wilt like a goddamn cabbage if Miguel so much as exhales sharply.

“Fine,” you concede with a look of defeat; it’s almost horrendous with how quickly he beams at you.

“After, your shift’s over,” he calls out after you as you grab some ointment, gauze and other essentials. You’re unclear as to how Miguel was injured exactly, but your gut tells you it’s probably just some shallow injuries if he hasn’t been coerced by Jess into coming to the infirmary. Just do the job. You should’ve kept your Spidersuit on below your regular clothes; yet the prospect of sinking into bed right after you treat your last patient far outweighs the vulnerability you feel.

It’s not exactly a short walk to where Miguel’s room is situated, but the concept of time is one that’s chased away by the sinking feeling in your stomach. It goes by too fast. You really should’ve just refused. Here goes nothing.

Surely you’ll be turned away immediately after you knock? Surely you’ll be able to go back to your own room and forget this ever happened? Surely fate will smile down upon you for once?

Fate truly is a fickle being.

Your knock on his door is almost immediately answered by an exasperated “ Come in.” You suppress your own exasperated groan as you recognize Miguel’s voice. Cradling the bag of medical supplies in your arm, you shove the door open with your shoulder. It’s dark - which you’d expect - but it still takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the sight-

Rapid heartbeats resound in the back of your head as you make out Miguel’s dim figure sitting on the edge of his bed. His suit is rolled up around his waist, leaving his torso completely bare. Your blood is practically beating up your veins with how quickly it races around your body. What the everloving fuck . The resounding question you have is answered by the dim glow of a syringe in his hands - it’s not exactly a secret that Miguel’s not just a human bitten by a radioactive spider, but it’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed a tangible instant of it.

“It’s you,” he doesn’t move to cover up with a scandalous gasp, but rather stares you down impassively. Who was he expecting? “What do you want?”

“To dress those wounds like I’ve been told to,” you stare right back at him, refusing to let your eyes be cowed into avoiding that gaze. You don’t budge, you don’t shift from foot to foot; your stance is staunchly planted onto the floor of his room. You can faintly see some nasty-looking gashes that look like they were caused by debris, as well as shallow lacerations that were undoubtedly made by a weapon.

“I’m fine,” he dismisses you, but you can see the shiny skin surrounding some of the injuries. You can’t even feel the resentment that you would normally - if that becomes infected, it’s not your problem.

“Those might get infected,” you point out, though you don’t really know what’s prompting you to argue in favour of spending more time with him. “I’ll be done in less than ten minutes.”

You suppose that noncommittal grunt is a concession to your superior logic. He stares at you wordlessly as you approach him; he’s rarely ever seen you without your mask and suit, you realise. Silence. Well, it would be silent if it weren’t for your heart desperately pounding away, so much so that you swear even he can hear it. You carefully put your bag down onto the floor.

He doesn’t hiss or pull away as the antiseptic-covered cloth runs over the gashes; the imperceptible stare that’s on you is disconcerting, to say the very least. He’s cold to touch, even through the thin disposable gloves you’ve donned. It doesn’t fully hit you that you’re touching Miguel’s shoulders and upper chest without getting your head bitten off. Absolutely shocking.

Those gashes beneath his collarbone aren’t as nasty as they looked underneath all the dried blood - he’s not going to need any stitches, so you can just slap gauze and medical tape over those bad boys and let the platelets do their job. It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate on the next set of injuries when you can feel the warm air of his breathing near your neck. Shit . Your eyes hone in on what your hands are doing; it’s not enough to distract you from his burning gaze on you.

“The front’s done,” you pull back, only now noticing you’ve been standing between his goddamn legs . It’s a miracle your voice doesn’t shake at the revelation, but you’re sure that he can hear the deafening way your heart is beating. Say something. Anything. The silence is all too unnerving.

“There’s some cuts on my back as well,” he finally says after you’ve surveyed your work and start opening your bag to find the bio-waste disposal bags. You pause. You suppress the urge to rub your hands together maniacally.

“Alright, turn around,” you laugh internally at the absurdity of the situation - he does nothing but spout frustration at you, yet there are no complaints or criticisms escaping him as he turns around obediently. It’s not a full turn; the angle of his turned back invites you to take a seat beside him on the mattress. Woah there.

You wait a second or so before realising that, yes, he’s waiting for you to sit down and isn’t actually going to bite your head off for doing so. It’s extremely surreal to sink into the firm mattress beside him; you doubt anyone’s made it this far in this goddamn cave . It’s even more surreal feeling the wisps of body heat brushing against you from the thighs still covered in his Spidersuit: a sharp contrast to his cool torso.

Be professional. Your eyes skim over the various scrapes littering his shoulders, and fortunately, all of them just need a quick wipedown and a plaster. It’s a lot easier to daub the antiseptic on without his gaze on him; that is, until you become slightly enraptured by the way his muscles tense (almost imperceptibly) at the sting of the antiseptic. You’re not as smooth as you wish, fumbling the packet of plasters while you revel in the fact his gaze is elsewhere.

“Almost done,” you reassure him after he tenses up slightly after you brush your fingers over your handiwork on his lower spine. Can he feel the way your pulse is absolutely electrified right now? You don’t even like him, but the proximity might just send you into cardiac arrest.

“It’s fine,” his tone is slightly strained. You raise your eyebrows, but ultimately ignore it in favour of patching up those last few cuts.

“Done,” you try not to sound too regretful. You hate the way your heart’s beating more and more rapidly; it takes everything in you to quickly gather your materials and stand up from the bed.

“Thanks,” the begrudging gratitude that comes out from him forces you to look back at him wordlessly. You take the time to search his face with your eyes, noting the slight sheen of sweat on his face. Is he…

“Are you running a fever?” the question escapes your lips as you move closer, whilst the medical supplies are unceremoniously dumped onto a side table. Your hand carefully places itself on his forehead (paying no heed to the very close proximity of his teeth). There’s no actual heat radiating from him, but the way he’s currently looking at you with that half-lidded gaze is making you feel like the delirious one. Why isn’t he saying anything?

Say something.

The back of your hand slowly moves away from his face, but you freeze as your wrist is grasped by his hand. What is he… His skin is cold, but the prickles left behind on your wrist are burning and spreading all over your body. You’re not breathing; you’re waiting for his next move.

“You are so frustrating,” he says through gritted teeth - though it lacks any of the usual bite that’s present. He speaks! You can feel his little angry exhale on your hand from where he’s holding it near his face. You still haven’t moved away, instead choosing to observe the way his facial muscles contort into an expression of fervid displeasure. “To think you’d have such an effect..”

The last part is muttered under his breath, as if you weren’t the intended recipient, but you hear it clear as day. What effect? The heavy implication creeps up inside your mind; it wriggles its way through the cracks in your composure. Surely he didn’t mean it that way, right? Surely you’re just annoying? You can feel your breathing get more shallow as his gaze flickers back up to your face - it searches ravenously, focusing on each feature as if it were a long awaited oasis in the arid desert.

His hand lets go carefully - it’s so unlike his usual brash movements that you almost laugh. Yet, once you’re free from his hold, you don’t make any move to leave again; it’s truly a strange magnetic effect you’re enveloped in. The carmine glow of monitors in the corner of the room is the only weak illumination in the room (it’s making the situation feel way too intimate in your opinion).

“Do you want me to stay?” your words escape your lips in a hushed voice. You can’t help but feel the addictive thrum of confidence pulse through your veins, your very capillaries . Maybe the unidentifiable emotion roiling within his eyes isn’t an avid dislike of you? You don’t know why you offered. You’re not sure if you even want to know. Still, you can’t help but feel prickles of curiosity at whatever’s making him so flustered.

Do you know the implications of your offer?

“Do I want you to stay..” his repetition of your question might’ve seemed mocking at any other time, yet the unusual hushed cadence begs to differ. Anticipation. That’s what’s keeping you rooted in place for fear of disturbing this unfolding scene. You’ve never seen him like this - it’s a delicate balance your heart is begging for you not to destroy.

“After I let you put your hands all over me, and you’re asking if I want you to stay?” he leans slightly closer towards you - you’re extremely glad he’s still sitting and not absolutely looming over you like the tower he is. You can feel your erratic heartbeat pulsate through your entire being at his words. It’s getting incredibly hard to think when anticipation in your stomach gives in to the rising swell of desire.

“You’re yet to be put in your place, and you’re asking if I want you to stay?” you feel a shiver run through your body at his proximity, yet you’re the one leaning into him now. You’re so close you can feel his breath fan over your neck; it’s the only part of his body that’s remotely warm, so much so that it’s absolutely scorching you. Or maybe it’s the white-hot blood you can feel blossoming on your face.

His cold hand ghosts over your chin, tilting your face down with nothing more than a brush of his thumb. Please. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the muscles of his face contort into a slight smile.

“Do you want this?” his brows furrow slightly. A question. Your veins already thrum with the answer.

“ Yes ,” you respond, feeling both your brain and heart work together to cheer you on for once. This better not be a dream . You can see the flash of teeth as he smiles, before you’re roughly pulled onto his lap. It’s actually comfortable to straddle his thighs, you note, but you can’t exactly focus on that anymore when he draws you into a searing kiss.

He tastes of the coppery tang of blood. It’s the first thing you notice as he slots his mouth against yours. The second thing you notice is how impatient he is, probing at your lip with his fangs while simultaneously pressing you up closer and closer until you’re practically melting into him. You don’t miss a beat; you snake your hands into his hair until they’re buried in the thick brown waves. Your fingers slightly pull at the back, and he lets out a small groan into your mouth at the sensation.

Sharp fangs graze your lower lip ever so slightly, but the pain is immediately alleviated by his tongue running over the cut. He’s sucking on it - evidently, there’s some blood left behind (or maybe even traces of the venom coursing through those fangs). His little pleased hum reverberates within you; you find yourself being flustered more by that than the way he’s rubbing circles into your thigh with his thumb.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he says in a low voice after the two of you pull apart for air. The string of saliva connecting your lips to his is tinted a rich sanguine; the bridge linking the two of you is entrancing, right before it breaks. His words set your very veins ablaze.

“ Please ,” you don’t even know what you’re pleading for , only that the pace is far too slow for your liking. It seems he feels the same way, since his face dips lower so his mouth can settle on your neck. He’s careful not to fully sink his teeth into your skin, instead choosing to lightly skim them over your pulse points to elicit small gasps out of you. Your hands grasp and twist so he’s pressed closer and closer into you. It’s strange - you never thought that he’d be the one to coax such a reaction out of you.

“Desperate, aren’t we?” you can feel the infuriating bastard curl his lips upwards as he sucks marks you know aren’t going to fade for days into the side of your neck. The mocking lilt of his question makes all the blood rush straight down - it’s unfair how unbearable he’s being. Your nails are no doubt leaving marks of their own as you let your hands roam the vast expanse of his back.

Almost involuntarily, your hips move to gain a semblance of any relief, any friction, but the firm grip of his hand on your thigh prevents you from doing even that. You hiss as his sharp nails dig into the skin (if you get tetanus you’re officially suing).

“What a pathetic little slut,” he coos into your ear; he can definitely hear the way your breath hitches at his harsh tone. You can’t even bring yourself to respond. “Getting turned on from a few kisses?”

Fuck .

You can’t even deny it; instead, you turn your head to the side as if you can escape his prying eyes with your embarrassment. It’s futile. You know he can feel your racing pulse against his lips as he once again presses them to the side of your jaw to coax small sounds out of you.

“I bet you could get off with just my thigh like the filth you are,” his words drip condescendingly, but you can barely hear him over the pounding heartbeat in the back of your head. You furiously bite back the whine that’s emerging from your throat from his fleeting touches. “Will you?”

“Fuck, Miguel,” you choke out as he moves one of his legs away so you’re completely pressed against his thigh.

“Get yourself off,” he utters, seemingly bored, but you both know he’s anything but from the way his eyes gaze intently at you. “But first..”

A quick, experimental swipe of his claw-like nails leaves your plain shirt neatly cleaved in two. So impatient . You can’t say that you’ll miss it, but still. You pull the shirt off, until your torso is just as exposed as his. His gaze sweeps over you ravenously. Then, he leans back onto the bed with his elbows propping him up so he can enjoy the show. What a bastard .

You bite back a groan as your hips stutter forward; the friction is already causing that sensation in your stomach to build up, even if it’s barely anything. It’s probably due Miguel’s eyes raking over you with tightly restrained desire. You don’t miss the way his eyelids lower and he looks away for a brief instant as you keep your eyes trained right on him. The tightness of your pants does absolute miracles to fill your mind with a pleasure-induced haze, so much so that you’re leaning forward and putting your hands on the curves of his waist (as if they were handlebars) to steady yourself.

You can go slow without losing out on the mind-numbing friction you’re experiencing - the absolute pressure is slowly driving you to that brink without you having to even try. Still, you can’t help but feel a small gnawing trickle of disappointment; will this end this soon? You push it out of your mind as you continue moving against his thigh - that haze you’re in is too powerful to worry too much about the what-ifs. You succumb to the pleasure, slowly, but surely.

It’s almost comical as that pleasant haze is snatched away. Even with heightened reflexes, you barely process the swiftness with which Miguel sits up and somehow manoeuvres you so your back is sinking into the sheets of his bed. You can’t help but cry out in disappointment.

“You thought I’d let you fall apart so easily?” he’s practically purring with that vexing smile on his face - you almost prefer his permanent scowl to this smug expression. Still, being manhandled by him makes your heart drum louder than ever in your ears. “After your constant misconduct ? Open your mouth, whore.”

You open your mouth obediently, and he lets out a pleased hum. You instinctively know what he’s about to do, so it’s not a surprise when he lets a thick string of spit fall into your mouth. You swallow, noticing how his eyes trace over your throat with barely suppressed lust.

“ Please ,” you choke out, helpless with your wrists pinned to either side of your head. You can hear a dry little chuckle sound out from him.

“Speak up,” he leans in closer to practically spit the words out. A slight shiver runs through you when his breath ghosts over your ear. “What does the little slut want me to do to him?”

It’s so utterly laughable; his words make you so goddamn pliant in his hands.

“I want you in me,” you don’t miss how his body tenses at your bold request. The curve of his throat bobs when he swallows thickly.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he promises quietly. His head dips low to trail a path down your chest with his mouth - you know you’ll be absolutely covered in marks by the time he’s done with you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You revel in his touch. You lean into him like a goddamn moth to flame.

With a swift tug, he pulls down the elastic band of your pants (you thank whatever’s above that they’re spared the same treatment as your shirt). You’re left shivering as his mouth travels to mark up your thighs - he’s practically burning bruises into you at this point.

Dim red lighting washes over every sharp crevice and line on his face. The sight before you eases the frustration building at the agonizingly slow pace he’s setting. More . It’s as if he’s heard your silent plea; before you know it, one of his fingers slips past your underwear and enters you, coated in what feels to be lube. Fuck . A drawn out string of muttered expletives escapes your lips as he continues at his slow pace.

“Are you frustrated?” he mocks, resting the side of his head on your inner thigh as he languidly moves his finger. That prick knows it’s not enough; he’s inviting you to beg for it. It’s humiliating, but you can’t bring yourself to care as desperation pools in your stomach.

“Faster, please -” your words cut off with a strangled moan as he pushes another finger in easily. Your hand desperately grasps his hair to ground yourself, earning a reverberating groan against your inner thigh. Fervently, you pray those walls of his are soundproof; the obscene noises coming from both your mouth and between your legs fill up the room quickly.

His composure seems to be rapidly slipping as well, judging by how his enthralled gaze is focused on how you’re taking his fingers. His chest is rising and falling erratically, and his eyes flicker between your lowered eyes and where you’re pulling him in greedily. As soon as you increase in volume, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you so unbearably empty .

The next thing you notice is the neon red ropes that buzz with static energy trussing your wrists up - it can only be his handiwork, though you’ve never been this close to those unusual red webs. You don’t question it; instead, you’re rapt watching Miguel, who’s hooking his fingers around the bunched up material around his waist, and pulling it down ever so slowly as if he’s putting on a show for you. Maybe he is , considering his eyes are right on you and watching your expression with an underlying smugness as you take the sight in.

He’s blocking out the vermillion glow of those monitors, practically towering over you and making you swallow nervously thinking about how exactly you’re going to take him. That worry pushes its way into the back of your mind as you decide you don’t particularly care when he’s haloed by that lighting as if he were an angel.

He looks like he’s relishing your reaction when he pulls his underwear off; after all, he’s suppressing that dry, mirthful laugh at your widened stare. You can’t help it - he’s massive . You’re enraptured by the small hiss he lets out at the coldness of the lube as he pumps himself, knowing very well he’s just as entertained as you.

“Scared you won’t be able to take it?” he challenges, parting your legs easily with the faintest pressure of his claws digging into your thighs. His pupils are completely blown out with lust; they’re honed in on you completely as if he were hunting you down. “Like you weren’t desperately fucking yourself on my fingers a minute ago?”

He cages you easily: too easily. You’re so malleable for him already, and he hasn’t even begun. Your wrists are starting to feel deliciously numb from the low buzz of his crimson web, and you can feel your breathing start to accelerate.

“ Please , Miguel,” whatever scraps of dignity remaining in you aren’t enough to stop you from begging him to do anything . “I can take it.”

And whatever self-control he’s been displaying (hardly any) up to this point swiftly dissipates as he leans in to swallow the moan that emerges when he finally puts the tip in. He’s still moving all too slowly, but the stretch is making up for it. A low whine escapes your throat as he presses in, and you’re teetering between pain and pleasure.

“Thought you said you could take it,” he lets out an amused exhale into your mouth, not going any deeper to accustom you to the burn. “And I’m only halfway.”

You rock your hips into his and revel in his groans, prompting him to slowly bottom out. Holy fuck . It’s enough to make your mind blur with a foggy haze at the absolute fullness he’s causing. He’s clearly enjoying himself, or at least, his expression is contorted into one of sharp amusement.

“Faster,” you urge him on. He can feel your wanting in every arrhythmic breath you take.

“So desperate,” he groans out as you roll your hips to generate any friction. His chest dips down until it’s pressing up against your bound wrists, only adding to that sharp pressure building in your stomach. “I bet you just want to be used like a degenerate toy.”

Please .

He doesn’t allow you time for thought at all when he starts moving; his pace is unrelenting and brutal, forcing noises so obscene out of you that you’re praying for whatever next-door neighbour he might have. The snap of his hips into yours is slowly building up that aching pleasure, and your back slowly arches so he can target that particular spot better.

You’re very rapidly unravelling, even more so when he bites down into your shoulder. The pain coursing through your veins swiftly devolves into pleasure. You can already taste the blissful wave that’s steadily approaching you.

His movements become more sloppy as he becomes more vocal at the way you’re taking him. It’s incredibly attractive to watch that carnal desire overtake him.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he praises, digging into the sides of your shoulders with his claws. It goes straight to your pleasure-addled mind, even more so when you hear the wet sounds of skin on skin resounding through the room. “Like a personal fucktoy, don’t you think?”

You can’t even say anything in response, wrapping your legs tightly around him so he can reach even deeper than he has. The overwhelming urge to let go is building up quickly in your stomach, and that heat is climbing all over your skin and mind.

"Fuck, I’m gonna-” you choke out as Miguel angles your hips down with one hand, pressing into just the right spot. He swallows your cries as your mind goes completely blank with pleasure, still moving into you as you reach that climax. His movements draw that euphoric state out for as long as possible, before the waves of pleasure become overwhelming for your fatigued mind.

“Miguel-” your whine is broken off as he moves into an upright position, digging his claws into your hips as he keeps moving against them.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he asks mockingly, wiping up a tear leaking from your eye with the rough pad of his thumb. You succumb to the touch, taking him in all his entirety. Your gaze trails from the frustrated lines on his face, lower, to the rivulets of your cum splattered on his lower abdomen, and finally to where he’s staring, completely enraptured. The breath in your throat hitches as you observe the bulge in your stomach fading and reappearing in time with his thrusts. “I’m not stopping until you fulfil your purpose.”

You feel a trickle of trepidation as he pulls back so only the tip remains in you.

“What are you-” you trail off, noticing the way his lips curl in anticipation. Oh god . Surely, he won’t-

“Getting myself off,” his lethal smile is the most foreboding one you’ve ever seen, before he slams his hips into yours. It hits that sweet spot instantly and you cry out pathetically. He’s got you seeing the very galaxies with how numbed your mind feels. Distantly, you can feel tears of pleasure swimming down the sides of your face, and his own groans of pleasure.

He pulls back again, leaving you empty once more, and repeats his earlier motion. You’re practically broken over his dick, but the waves of pleasure aren’t letting up any time soon. It seems the sensations are also getting to him; his powerful movements are slowly becoming sloppier by the second.

“Want me to cum in you, like the slut you are?” Miguel groans out, coming more and more undone. His question makes you tighten around him, which earns you another breathy exhale. “Getting turned on by the very thought of me breeding you?”

“ Fuck , yes,” you cry out involuntarily. You can feel your heartbeat pulsing its rapid beat in your stomach as he fills you up again and again. His grip on your thighs is slipping as he messily fucks into you. Obscene squelching noises fill up the room, but you’re too far gone again to care if the whole goddamn building hears the two of you.

You can feel him desperately trying to maintain any sort of grip of control as his hips snap into yours fervently. Over and over, he repeats your name in a chorus as if it’s his lifeline. That aching feeling in your stomach is slowly returning, ardently wanting him to continue his unforgiving pace.

With a start, you realise the binds on your wrists have dissolved due to his wavering concentration. Immediately, your hands wind their way around his back to steady yourself, scratching harsh marks into the muscles. He lets out a wanton groan at the sharp sensation; his breaths are coming faster and faster, and you know he’s close.

Your fingers thread upwards through his hair to pull him into you. He breathlessly kisses you, though it’s more a desperate clash of teeth than anything. His lips part slightly in pleasure and he stiffens minutely. Got him .

You swallow all the noises he’s making, feeling hot spurts of his cum paint your insides. He doesn’t stop moving ; it’s as if he’s making sure not a single drop is wasted. He rides out the high by pulling you ever closer to press against his body. The shuddering halt of his hips against yours lets you know the fatigue’s taken over him, but he doesn’t stop kissing you, and he doesn’t pull out either.

The salty taste of sweat is prominent on your tongue when you drag it across the skin of his neck, leaving your own marks as a petty form of revenge. He lets out a sharp exhale, but doesn’t protest as he lets you roll him over so that you’re lying on top of him, connected nonetheless. The movement makes him whine , on the other hand, which you know you’re never going to forget.

“Fuck,” you mumble against his skin, feeling him shift to gaze down upon your head that’s propped on his chest. “You are so lucky I don’t have any shifts tomorrow.”

Your head moves up and down on his chest as he lets out a tired laugh. Wincing, you prop yourself up on your palms so you can sit up and pull yourself off him. He groans lightly at the change, but you attempt to ignore it.

Carefully, you rise to your knees with a pang of regret at the loss of him in you. When you look at him, he’s visibly entranced by the combined rivulets of fluids streaming from between your legs, as if he’s asking if he really did all that.

“You can, uh, use my shower,” he offers, sounding extremely unapologetic. “And stay the night if you want.”

You don’t respond immediately, instead choosing to lean into his touch as he rubs small circles into your thighs. A pressing question emerges in your mind, however.

“Do you always sleep with your doctors?”

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #x reader #into the spider verse #itsv #res ･ﾟ writing #across the spiderverse #atsv #slowd1ving

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