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onyourhyuck · 5 months

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Animal Instinct. | NCT SERIES

Title: CHAPTER 1 ‘The Untamed.’

— Prologue: “When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.”

— Summary: You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

— Genre: Smut with plot. Minors dni. Fantasy with modern timeline. Female!reader. Secondary genders (but with animals) dreamies are complete red flags. Dub-con. Everything is very dark romance related. Nothing here is for the weak. Everything is just pure filth. It gets progressively worse and worse. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Pet names such as ‘my pretty whore’ or ‘princess’ — minor hair pulling, Fingering (female receiving). Creampie, cumming inside / no protection please use a condom.

— Notes: I APOLOGISE FOR TAKING SO LONG. BUT HERE IT IS. MORE FREQUENT UPDATES COMING UP.

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One thing you love about yourself is that your work basically shapes your entire routine. You love walking inside your laboratory seeing the animals in the tanks you have to take care of and examine. This included various important research that no one should know. It is highly top secret. A simple leak of what you collect samples from the sea or other animal biology from biomes and journals you keep could really be a mess for you.

Working on separating the two and three sides of the samples you have listed from the deep oceans all throughout different sights. You felt a hand approaching behind you quickly.

The man taps your shoulders when you’re so busy working with the test tubes. “Hey Y/n mind giving me—” you jump and turn around with a fright.

“Seriously Johnny! I told you not to sneak up on me like this. Especially when I’m working with these highly reactive test tubes.” You scowled at your coworker, Johnny Suh. He was one of your friends and coworkers. Wearing a white cloak and round black glasses on.

He was a handsome fella. Very charming and handsome you have to admit it. Johnny can be professional but he could also be quite a mood maker in such a serious profession.

Laughing at your unusual behaviour, you’re never this jumpy when you are working but he probably assumes he scared you to death. “What got you so anxious Y/n? You never get scared when i do this.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. He swore he could see your own soul leave your body.

Truth be honest ever since that night with Ningning all you are thinking about how your entire life has been a lie. Sour Grape’s has taken your mind over. No. Mark has taken your entire mind off and away from your daily routines. Everyday you’re thinking about ‘How can this be possible?’ Humans coming from other animals and not just monkeys. It’s insane information. You shouldn’t be believing this but when Jaehyun said it’s a secret; it makes you think there must be some truth to it.

No one on earth would make up such a stupid fairytale on the spot.

If you weren’t a marine biologist with side degrees of zoology you’re just the type of person to not let this slide. You want to learn more.

You want to experience the truth. You want to see if it’s the truth if they actually are who they are setting themselves to be.

Letting out soft mumbles as you close off the testing tubes, afterwards putting the collective tubes in the stirring device. “I haven’t slept well for the past few days. Sorry if i seem like I’m on the edge.”

He gave you a soft smirk leaning on the side of the table while watching you. “Oh honey you seem like you’re more than on the edge. You’re off the edge.” Your eyes make eye contact after you were done with your tasks.

Your friend trails now questioning you as you’re looking at him with a soft look that made your thoughts even worse.

“What’s on your mind, Y/n?” Johnny asked with a small smile. You shake your head, you don’t want to share something so crazy. He might think you’re actually insane, or worse, he might even think you lost your entire marbles.

“Nothing serious, John. Let’s just finish up and go home. I’m tired.” You excused yourself from the conversation to finish up. The only thing you want to do today is figure out what to eat for dinner.

Walking down the street to your favourite food truck, you decided to take your mind off whatever you were thinking for the past week or so.

You felt like your brain was just constantly going back to the same topic and it was draining truth be honest. What better way to distract yourself than to eat your favourite stir fry noddles?

Being a local customer the food truck owner gives you discounts nowadays because you were a customer for a long time. A regular at that.

“Hey I would like the usual.” You gave a smile at the owner who nodded seemingly being happy to seeing you drop by.

“I was beginning to think you’d never return, Y/n.” Said the truck owner and you gave a little smirk. “How could I not return? You make the best noodles.” Complimenting them they blushed and started making the noodles for you.

But then something flashed behind you at a fast pace. You didn’t even realise it until the figure stood overshadowed by their body remaining still as a statue.

Gawking at the menu on the side. Your eyes widen when you turned around with disbelief flashing over your lips and cheeks.

“Young man what would you like?” The owner interrupts your own lingering thoughts of shock. The voice, the sound of his breathing, everything else made you feel so small and in danger just by the presence alone of this man.

He looks back from the menu. “The original stir fry m’am.”

You did not realise you were literally staring Mark down in this moment until his face turned over to you and you quickly looked away biting your bottom lip, staring at your very own feet on the ground. You can’t believe it that Mark and you crossed paths when all you’ve been saying is how you’re going to distract yourself finally!

What was this coincidence? Fate? Destiny?

There was this expression on his face that falters when he finally acknowledges your existence. It’s like he met you before but he was trying to find out from where.

And then it hits him. You were the one with Jaehyun that one night.

The dark tone of voice strikes you like a knife behind your back if anything. “You’re that girl at the bar that one time.” Mark said to you, turning to look at you fully with his entire body now facing you.

You definitely caught the predator’s attention now with how easy you’re to read. God you hate being so readable like an open book — a very non interesting book at that.

You fake a smile, maybe if you just pretend you don’t know him he will give up speaking to you. “Oh no, I don’t attend bars. I’m… allergic to alcohol.” You cringe deep inside when you made up the most stupid excuse.

Really? Allergy? He didn’t even ask about your allergies.

Mark frowns which lead you to believe he wasn’t completely swayed by your own actions right now. You forget how much of animal instincts he must have by now. You can’t fool a tiger easily.

“You must’ve mixed me up with someone else.” You said quietly trying to make it seem more and more believable if you just keep talking.

Thankfully you were praying for your meal to arrive first beforehand he got his. The prayer was answered when you grab your plastic container smiling and thanking them. You literally dashed away but why try to run away?

Trying to out run one of the most dangerous cats you probably made the worst mistake to even show a hint of speed in your movements.

When you were to reach your destination to your car the same black towering figure stands over you. In front of you with a dark gaze.

You let out a mini gasp to be honest, you feel like your heart is being crushed by two large walls that keep on moving forward and forward until your heart and lungs collapse.

Mark sighs. “You know that I can hear your beating heart when you lie?” He said rather amused but also it was eerily like a reminiscing threat thrown at you. You stand there quivering, trembling even, and it made Mark so much more entertained than he thought he would be.

He took a step forward. The stir fry plastic box was shaking in very discreet manner in your hands. Each step he takes you took three steps backwards.

This was a new cat and mouse game you didn’t want to be playing with him at all.

“Y/n was it? Jaehyun mentioned you.” Mark said with a little more confidence now that he actually had you cornered. Now you cannot lie on the spot and try to run away from him.

It’s ridiculous. He looks and was human but in reality he’s not just entirely human is he? He’s a freaking tiger with probably the most define genetics. It’s crazy to you.

You mumble trying to get away still. There was just this instinct inside you to make excuses until you can’t anymore. “Sorry i have to go, i am extremely busy.”

Your heartbeat picked up again, Mark sighs pressing an arm around your body and now moved you to sit down at a bench in the scene. You flinch and he forced you to sit down in front of him with his dark eyes watching you. “Another lie. You must enjoy lying a lot don’t you?”

You look away. You’re watching anything but him. “What do you want from me? I swear I don’t… I don’t know anything.” You’re trying your best to make this situation just deescalate.

He grinned amused. “Well that’s also a lie.” He said sitting down next to you on the bench as your heart was racing incredibly fast. Mark thought you might die on the spot if you keep stressing yourself out.

You took a little breath when he sat down next to you which seemed a little less nerve wrecking.

Eventually your heart calmed down when the silence overtook you both. Mark makes a quick glance over at you again, and he continues to speak when he waited for your nerves to sort themselves out.

You sigh. “I didn’t know you liked this place.” You tried to make a conversation as well but you weren’t sure how well he will respond to it.

Heck you don’t know this guy at all.

“I like it. I’m a regular here.” Mark said with a smirk and he moves a bit closer to you now, he opens up his plastic box of stir fry and starts to eat it with the plastic fork you’d get at a restaurant or other food trucks.

You saw him eating and you slowly shift to open your stir fry. But to be honest you’re too scared to even eat in front of him. You’re trying to act normal though. So you take a piece and ate slowly your own food along with Mark. The man kept watching you even though he ate. But you’re avoiding to even acknowledge him so much.

“Y/n do i scare you?” He was quite blunt and upfront. You flinched when he mentions the exact words you’re feeling.

You awkwardly chuckle and put down the fork. “Is it that obvious?”

Mark scoffs a bit. “You didn’t try to hide it.” He leans away and ate some more, you felt a bit less scared and now more guilty. Now that you think about it he seems like a normal guy now.

“Sorry. What Jaehyun said to me that night at the bar messed with my brain.” You admit it, which made the man next to you smirk. “You know I’m human as well. But I do admit it was fun seeing you trembling.” There was a sense of eeriness in his words but at the same time you were watching him.

He admitted to you that watching you embarrass yourself in front of him was a thrilling show but you decided to just not respond to it.

You didn’t even know what to say back anyways.

“So… are you actually…” your voice trails off unable to think of how to say this. How do you even phrase this?

Mark saw your expression like it was the most readable thing he has ever laid eyes on. He leans forward putting the plastic box down. “Part Tiger?” He spoke those words right out of your throat. You bite your inner cheek nodding.

“Is it true?” You asked with your eyes widen.

He grinned and stands up, putting hands in the front jean pockets he then turns around to you rather amused by your curiosity.

Has no one ever told you that curiosity killed the cat? You’re like a small, tiny cat who can’t keep their nose out of something that wasn’t their business.

It felt rather authentic for you though. Most people are just nosey but you seem to be curious because you want to discover something new.

And that is exactly what Mark likes about you. Your intentions are something he hasn’t seen before. Leaning forward he writes something on the paper and passed it to you, with the same hand you saw the large metal ring with the tiger engraved on it. Grabbing the piece of paper you look cautiously from the paper towards Mark’s dark gaze.

“When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.” He said to you simply.

Just like a tiger he caught you by surprise with how sharp his tone of voice was full of silky seriousness. And then he disappeared into thin air as well. You only looked away for a second just for Mark to be gone in front of you.

Leaving you questioning if you should take the bait and go to his apartment even though that sounds like some kind of messed up plan.

For once you were dreading the sun setting. Getting out of your car you look back at the paper in your hand and then your eyes fall back on the complex building in the front.

The address that brought you to this place makes you both anxious and excited. You have many running thoughts on your journey going inside. Every single muscle contraction meant you were growing close and closer to danger.

Slipping your hand over the doorknob you didn’t even knock, the door opened up with the man revealing in front of you.

Mark heard you from a mile away. He knew you’d come and he was right when you stood in front of him with a stunned look.

You really do make him feel like he’s hunting you down.

“Come on in Y/n, I don’t bite.” Mark smirked seeing your hesitation as your eyes peek inside the apartment before your whole body walks in. Mark closed the door after you fully enter.

There was a lack of trust between you two but for some you are wanting to trust this man. You don’t know why but you know one thing for sure; he has bland furniture. All neutral colours and very modern in his apartment.

You tread carefully and put your purse bag down on the couch nearby as you stand in middle of his apartment. Your gaze follows where Mark was on the wall leaning one side of his shoulders on it, the muscular arms crossed together and the lower body curved towards the right side.

Breathing hitching you feel it becoming a round ball in your throat. “So Mark will you admit that what I know is true?”

You came for the truth only. But to Mark he wanted more from you than just to give you a simple truth. He wanted to take a taste of something much better than any truth could provide him or to you.

The body slips off the wall approaching you slowly while his gaze was rather intense and playful while watching you.

“I don’t think I can prove anything verbally to you.” Mark whispers gaining a closer look at your face and the natural scent of your body blending in with the morning coffee you drank as well as your floral perfume; creating this intoxicating sensation in the nasal passages. Mark could crawl to you just by the smell of your own skin.

Hands slowly moving to your waist pulling you closer by an inch your feet trotting forward in little steps towards his body. “But I can show you how a tiger has it’s fun?” He smirks brushing the hot breath escaping from his mouth down to your neckline, while his large eyes are watching you keenly to see your reaction for approval.

Goosebumps evoked on your skin when the tiniest touch of his fingers kneading on your waist bringing you closer to him made you fall into this trance; a trap in other words you’re not escaping a primal animal’s desire at all.

He lifts his head only a little, waiting for your lips to give him consent or a sign of any sorts. But you seemed to stunned and even timid.

The reasoning of you coming to his apartment wasn’t to sleep with him. But the idea of sleeping with someone as magnetic and attractive as him clouds your judgemental. You’re a smart woman you know that and even Mark knows it; you know your stuff. But you certainly look tempted by the invitation.

The only thing you could think about was how badly you want to kiss his lips in that moment. Swiftly you press your hands up to his jawline and pull him in with a sudden kiss when your decision was made finally. Your sudden lips and the taste of them lingering in the air stunned the tiger but you soon felt his hands clawing at your hips lifting you up with his arm muscles — bringing forward your body against a nearby wall as your mouths clashed like two boulders in action. Fighting for something you would like to say is survival; survival of the fittest.

Grunting at the smallest thing, Mark enjoyed hearing them a lot, even the clawing he did down your back and to cup your round ass made you grind up against his body in a friction. Your reactions were what made Mark’s instincts going up the roof. The inner animal was raging from just how much you do this to him. You look ethereal and vulnerable.

Your tongues are tied like a knot together constantly trying to go back and forth only to end up pushing and pulsing instead. Your hair was a mess from just the heated makeout with the man who did not show you a signal mercy.

Running your hands through his hair was probably the most difficult thing for him. Mark’s sensitive area was always his hair and head in general.

You wonder if it’s because tigers in general have sensitive ears; in fact all cats have that trait. It just made your mind run free whenever your fingers cross over his hair. He always lets out soft noises between the heavy parting kisses with your red feverous mouth.

Deciding that the wall won’t be enough for him or for you in that matter. Mark lifted you again this time turning only a small swift left to the bedroom the door opens enough to keep you in and throw you on top of his bed. Watching your body sink on the mattress wasn’t as satisfying as your arms pulling him on top with your lips connecting again for another passionate kiss.

Your voice sounds like music to his ears, Mark could never get tired of hearing your own heart racing and pounding against your chest either. It might be his favourite sound afterall this time.

“Fuck — Mark, hold on.” You adjust yourself on the bed when his hands slipped over your shirt unbuttoned it down along with your lowering clothing slipping it to your ankles. Mark did not know a single vocabulary word about slowing down. He was an animal. Animals don’t wait they just do whatever they want. Whenever it suits them. Your words were pointless to Mark.

He gave you a look when your hands press on his biceps. You needed a moment to calm your heart otherwise you would feel like this whole moment will not be savoured enough.

Leaning in he gave you a gentle peck instead on your lips. Mark tried to slow down to your liking. Holding himself back was hard when you look like this in your underwear and bra only. With your skin on skin contact too.

“Please.” You whisper. “You really don’t hold back.” You chuckled a little bit. Mark grinned softly at your reaction.

Humming he slowly took off his shirt. “Didn’t Jaehyun already tell you?” He sighs and your gaze looks up at Mark when he mentioned another name. “I don’t settle down for anyone.” Mark mumbles connecting back to your close body again when the shirt fell down on the bedroom floor.

He doesn’t settle for anyone so there is no reason for Mark to slow down for anyone. Mark goes fast for everyone and everything.

Your eyes are glued together as one. Your heart skips a beat when Mark was simply staring at you but it felt like he was chasing you across the jungle if anything.

Seeing your stare he had a feeling you might be thinking about your second options. Mark pressed forward to you.

“You still have the option to leave sweetheart, because I won’t give you this choice afterwards anymore.” He slants his fingers down your forearms and your eyes lift up staring into his own deadly irises.

You breathily sigh. “No I don’t want to leave.” You tell him with a determined look and you press your lips on the side of his neck kissing down to his defined collarbones.

Mark chuckled at your amusing response. You don’t want to run away yet you’re the one who told him to slow down?

“Alright. Don’t blame me for what’s about to happen next.” Mark’s voice was dark and low, everything that had been attracting you to him all along. You couldn’t wait until Mark kissed you again, you’re craving for more and more.

You don’t even know what you’re craving; is it the dangerous thrill? Or is it the fact that there was this biological element that keeps your hormones growing more complex.

Whatever it was your thoughts shatter down like a glass on the ground shredded to pieces creating a map of what you’d call your scattering thoughts. The heat forming underneath the pawing motions of the hands threading your body like a needle, grabbing your perky breasts. Hearing out your grasps and manhandling you into the mattress to a position of what his desires are. You’re nothing more than a rag doll. In this scenario you didn’t know what else to think. You were caving for more.

Escaping grasps when the rough grain fingers rub down to your revealing womanhood. His yellow-ish sharp eyes glow by the excessive amount of excitement. Your insides were much mild to his fingers. But they manage to heat your insides up so much faster. When he pumps them up and down your eyes were trying to squeeze shut.

Mark didn’t want to look away from your precious eyes when he was pumping his fingers inside your pussy walls. He wanted to watch you cry out. To him if you weren’t shouting to the top of your lungs then he did not do a good job. And Mark values his ego and pride of pleasuring women he takes to bed. You need to have a good time, your pleasure means so much more than his own.

And that’s the type of man Mark is. He focuses on you as much as he can. There was a sense of addiction towards you. Mark loved smelling your increasing scent on his bedsheets that you’re sprawled across looking like a desperate prey begging for mercy, but deep down you want so much more. With those aching teary eyes Mark knew you were close to a climax.

But did his hands stop? No. Mark didn’t care if you’re close to cumming. Mark will make you cum thrice if he wants too.

By the next few minutes you’re not sure what’s happened but your mind was fogging out between the lines. The bed sheets were leaking by your juices and Mark’s hand and your pussy were only an inch away from one another. His fingers were so deeply embedded inside of you it’s causing your voice to come out like a strain meld.

“Oh fuck… fuck… Mark I think I came already.” You said the obvious not knowing that was his intention all along. To make you release so much you’re starting to lose train of consciousness.

The tiger smirks fondly by your answer. Mark stretching your pussy out so much just so you can be able to fit him later on.

Pulling out his fingers out of your hole he licks them across his plum lips while gaze on your eyes. There was not much space between you two; your breathes are touching.

“You taste so sweet, Y/n.” Mark deems it. Pulling apart the boxers fell on the bedroom floor and he pulled your ankles down so your legs are spread round the hips.

You’re gawking at the sight of his thick glory shown towards your face. You’re not sure what else to say because your expression said it all.

Mark sultry chuckles watching you was seriously amusing. You don’t try to hide your expression with your widen little eyes. “What is it? Did i leave you speechless already?”

Though it sounds cocky. Which it probably was. Mark had a good reasoning to sound like a complete womanising douche.

He was thick. Thicker than anything you’ve seen before. You’re unsure what to say but you cannot argue with him either. He did leave you speechless. It was embarrassing for you.

Mark took your token of silence so he leans his face closer to give you a peck on your lips. He whispers down to your shoulders aligning his face with it. In a way this was to comfort you.

“Don’t worry Y/n. We aren’t finished just yet.” Breathily into your skin Mark buried the nose on the collarbone as the shape of Mark enters your pussy walls this time it was stretched with a slight burning angle that caused your whole body to tremble by itself. Holding on to the bedsheets underneath your body you feel like you’re floating by how just the tip touching at your velvety skin you’re reacting so much to it. This wasn’t usual. You’ve not experienced something like that before.

It’s nothing like the previous times you’ve slept with a guy before. It’s nothing like that.

In this case it feels like you’re fighting for your life but at the same time you’re submitting to yourself knowing Mark was the powerful one here. The one in charge of the moment. The variable that will never change is Mark. In a sick twisted way you like this. You like becoming the prey. The way you’re underneath Mark as he is thrusting you like a wild in-domestic beast, it’s what you’ve been craving all this time. The thrill of it.

For once you’ve forgotten all about biology. You’ve became it instead. Maybe you’re starting to finally understand how it feels to be stepped on by someone stronger than you. For once in your life that is.

Mark couldn’t get enough of you however. It’s the way your dark hair is floating like strands of ribbons on his bed sheets that smell of you now. He knew that once you are finished it is mostly likely to return to normal life. You’ll probably never hear from him. Or he might never hear from you on that matter — but those bed sheets will have your lingering smell and he doesn’t think he will change them for a while. You’re addictive. Strangely Mark has never been this compatible before with just anyone.

It’s crazy how a simple “come to my apartment” leads to you actually having sex later on. But you didn’t care how easy it seemed. You were enjoying it far too much to worry about the consequences. Mark was far too lost between the creeks of your neckline and the collarbones, his thinly pressed tongue sucks across your beautiful canvas. Your moans are starting to resemble poetry to his ears. As if you were all he wants to listen to on hours end.

The tiger felt every inch of your insides clenching with awe around his shape. It was the way you wrap around so easily. Your arms do the same thing. They wrap around his body and cling onto him forever. Mark wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your eyes only part ajar like a door does only to see yellowish sparkles of phenomenal beauty spreading across the bedroom. Widening at the sight you felt like you’re hallucinating. But when you’ve looked at the man above you thrusting you seen exactly a pair of two golden Iris’ staring down at you with nothing behind those eyes but lust.

It felt as if every muscle in his body extended to his original position when Mark grunts the bottom lip pierced to his fangs. “Oh yes, keeping looking at me like that. Such a pretty whore you are.”

Cheeks grows out in awe when Mark brushed over his fingers into your hair only to press you even more into the mattress digging his clock so deep in your insides you’ve lost knowledge of how far you could last. By now it’s been far too long. Your body’s overdrive is now overheating like a computer would — yet Mark shows no sign of slowing.

Even the way his voice stood still like the sea breeze. You’re at a loss of words.

Pulling at your hair slightly Mark decided to make you sit up a little so he could rearrange the speed of his thrusts to become quicker and sharper. Which only made you gasp audibly loud when you’re held in this position for so long. Your brain begins to fog once again.

Mark groans besides your shoulders, carving his teeth marks all over your body. You’re starting to look like a butchered meat eaten alive by him.

His eyes shift close. “Fuck… that’s it… now take it all Y/n.” You’re starting to see some slowing down when Mark unleashed the folds between your pussy walls. You’re starting to give up the moment Mark leaves you to the brim; looking full and plum like he wanted you in the state.

Eutrophic state of being overdriven by an animal, was all you’re able to process.

Breathing heavily into your skin you’re closing your eyes only a little, but everytime you do that you wanted to drift off to sleep. Eventually you’re wondering if you are asleep because all you see is black with a faded out voice I’m the background calling your name all over again.

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By the morning you’re awaken by your own fine reflection of how much your body actually endured last night.

Your lips part away staring at the front. Teeth marks scattering from top to bottom. You look like a whole different person compared to when you stepped a foot into this apartment.

Your eyes dart around the bedroom putting on your clothes that were left on the floor. You had to make yourself presentable at least once in your life because right now — you feel and look completely out of place. Brushing your hands into your hair messily brushing it out any knots. Then you open the bedroom door and step out. You’re met with a smell of eggs frying in a pan.

Following the scent you’re now approaching the shoulders of a man. Short sleeve tight shirt on flexing out muscles while wearing an apron. You’re filled with some form of happiness when you see that food is being cooked.

You mumble with a groaning stomach already. “Morning. What are you cooking?”

The man turned around with a little smirk seeing you’re already dressed and awake. Mark was expecting you to be knocked out a little longer. At first he thought you died on him last night. You’ve suddenly out of nowhere blanked out. But it turns out you were due in need of much sleep.

Mark pressed the eggs out of the pan and onto the plates. Your eyes following where his muscular arms extend out the plate towards you. You took a seat down on the chair by the kitchen aisle counter. He pressed a smile.

“Eggs and some toast. It’s the best I can do.” Mark announces.

You smiled and grabbed a fork. “It’s fine I’d eat anything anyone makes me.” You wish you could’ve shut your mouth when you said that though, because you maybe held your expectations high for Mark. He cannot cook eggs for the love of God.

The smile drops on your face instantly and you clear your voice a little when you’re sending a gaze back at Mark. You take a bite of the half burnt — nearly black at the bottom scrambled eggs. How do you burn eggs? You’ve got no possible human explanation for this sorcery.

For someone who is made to be a perfect stone with no hard edges; Mark can’t cook.

You might of found Mark’s first flaw.

You trail off mumbling. “Maybe I should cook next time?” Nonetheless you eat it all without a complaint. But you had to jokingly point o it out to Mark. You’re an honest woman. You couldn’t lie to him. It might feed his delusional ego.

Mark scoffs a little and chuckles at the end. “Good idea, Y/n. I can handle the other eggs.” You nearly choked on your chewing. But before you could say anything to him he was walking out of the kitchen area with that giddy smirk on his face as if he’s proud for saying something as outrageous as that.

“I’ll be in the shower!” Mark announces without a care that you’re probably as red as an apple.

You shake your head in disbelief and trail off a little laugh. You have a feeling this might weirdly be the most calming morning you’ve had. You go back to eating your scrambled egg wondering what else you will expect…

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Reblog and Follow me for more smuts like this!!

605 notes · View notes

girlboypersonthingy · 28 days

Note

Hiii new anon here! Is it possible to request the Hazbin Hotel boys with a wheelchair user reader? (It’s alright if not! I love your writing so much! Keep it up! 💖)

Hellooooooo new anon 💋 thanks for the request! And THANK YOUUU ILYSM AAAHH 💖🥹 you guys have really been hyping me up. AND IM AT 40 REQUESTS RN LIKE ??? HELLO HI WHAT IS HAPPENING 😵‍💫 I hope I did okay on this…enjoy~

Notes: gn!reader, sorry this is short :(

TW: lap sitting, other than that just fluff :)

Hazbin boys x wheelchair user!reader 🎀

Lucifer 🍎

Often tries to push you around everywhere. He just wants to help but if that bothers you, he’ll happily give you space to wheel yourself around.

Will still do other things to help you out too like open doors for you, adjust tables so you can sit at them comfortably, goes to get you something you might have forgotten just so you don’t have to push yourself all the way back to it.

Sorry but he’s gonna very randomly and very frequently sit in your lap. He likes it, it’s comfy and it’s always right there fully open for him. He’ll just fall into your lap, wrap his arms around your neck and nuzzle his face up to yours.

Very helpful with other things you may need help with like reaching things that are too high up or assisting you when you need to get out of your chair for any reason.

WILL ABSOLUTELY PICK YOU UP AND CARRY YOU SO TIGHTLY AS HE FLIES YOU TO WHEREVER YOU NEED TO GO

“Luci, babe…this is kinda extravagant, don’t you think? I just needed to go talk to Husk, I can get myself there just fine.”

“Yeah, but I get to touch you this way~”

What a flirt, omffggg ❤️‍🔥

Angel Dust 🕸️

So many dirty jokes and horrible pickup lines.

“Oooh, best seat in the house~” as he sits on your lap before covering your face in giggly kisses

“Yeah, I think they fucked up their legs fallin’ for me.”

“Fuck you, Angel!” And now he’s cracking up laughing while also apologizing.

He’s actually kinda a worry wart so he’s gonna check up on you a lot. He knows you’re strong and brave and you’re used to this by now but he can’t help but worry about you all the time.

He knows you can handle yourself but he worries about others picking on you and taking advantage of your disability

His fav pastime is sitting in your lap while you wheel yourself as fast as you can down the long hallways of the hotel

Sitting in your lap while you do wheelies gets him squealing with laughter

He also offers to push you pretty much every day and if you say yes, he happily takes over while you sit back and relax. If you say no, he totally understands and follows along beside you still.

Very much understands any boundaries you have about you and your mobility. Hes a consent king okay?

Although he never asks before he grabs the handles of your chair and yanks you all the way back until you’re nearly parallel with the sky, then he smirks down at you before leaning in for a hot and passionate kiss. Not too long later, he sits you back up to your regular position and continues on his way, leaving you a blushing mess with your heart beating so hard you think you might die again.

And he never gets over the shocked face you wear every time he does that. He loves that shit 🩷

Husk 🃏

Okay this guy is so nonchalant about it like “okay cool…and?”

He sees that you are used to this, that you handle this with such grace and skill. You impress him everyday and he adores youuu~

Will often offer to help you up on the barstools if your chair is too low to reach the bar.

Holds doors for you, always runs to push the elevator button for you, just likes to go out of his way to be a gentleman for you.

Even if you insist you don’t need his help, he’ll argue, “Baby, you’re my partner. I think my love language is acts of service or some shit like that. I dunno, I tried to read the book and got tired. But I love ya so you’re just gonna have to get used to me and how I show love. Trust me, I’d do this stuff no matter what.”

He’s honestly just such a polite and considerate guy when it comes to you. He doesn’t never mean to be overbearing or treat you different, he just wants you to be comfortable so he always tries to push you around.

“Husky, I can push myself.” You sigh as he takes hold of the handles on your chair and brings you along to the bar with him.

“I know you can.” And he’s just smirking from behind you as you roll your eyes.

And his pace will slow for a sec as he leans over to kiss the top of your head.

He just really loves when he’s pushing you and he sees your head tilt back and your shoulders relax- you just seem calm

Sir Pentious 🐍

Homeboy is absolutely gonna try to invent and build cool shit for you. Mostly just cool add-ons to your chair like something to make it smoother or faster or more sturdy or even add a cup holder? Idk

If you ask him not to push you around, you will not have to tell him twice 🫡 he respects you and your boundaries

Buuttttt he is often seen resting one hand on the handle of your chair as he slithers along beside you throughout the hotel

He just wants to be touching you in some way and touching your chair is enough for him.

Loves to come bounding up to you with exciting new projects he’s working on and will wrap his entire self around you as he shows you his work

“Pen? Can you push me back to my room? I’m just so tired…” you ask him after a long day of helping out around the hotel therefore a long day of pushing yourself around.

He’s actually so excited and full of love rn, like he’s beaming with joy as he nods and rushes to you.

“Yesssssss, my darling! Anything for you~”

And he’s so fucking careful with you- we all know Sir Pentious is a clutz and a goofball but he is so extra cautious when pushing you around.

Makes sure not to bump your feet or knees or any other part of you into anything.

Goes sooooooo slow over any bumps, humps or ledges.

Asks like 457 times if you’re okay and smiles everytime you say “Yes, babe. I’m good. Thanks.”

Vox 🖥️

Does not mean to offend but he tells you he would happily build something that could have you up and walking with ease.

If you’re down to try, he’s more than happy to experiment!

If you’re more than happy staying in your chair, he completely understands but still tries to give your chair some upgrades.

Adds a phone to your chair so you can always contact him

Also watches your every move everywhere you go through his cams bc he doesn’t want some dickhead to think they can take advantage of you

Loves when you come into his work room where all his screens are bc it’s a bit crammed in there so it can be hard to get your chair around. Therefore, Vox loves to pick you up and sit you in his lap while he works.

He’ll press soft kisses to your neck and let his claws travel up and down your arms as you melt into him

And when you finally ask to go back to your chair, it turns into a playful fight.

“Aww, (Y/N). I was just getting comfy. What if I just keep you here.” As he hugs you tight, speaking in a teasing tone.

“Vox, I swear to Satan! You better put me back in my chair right now or-“

“Noooo~ I don’t think so.”

And he just continues to enjoy your company even as you pout and huff.

Alastor 🩸

Always uses his shadow or his tentacles to lift you up and whisk you around.

Doesn’t ever really ask for permission or even warn you before he picks you up and carries you to and from your chair.

“Oh! Alastor. I can do it on my own. Really, I’m fine.”

“Nonsense, sweetheart. The pleasure is all mine. What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t assist my love with getting around?”

He doesn’t have much of a filter, nor does he understand boundaries or personal space

So he will just grab ahold of you and wheel you around to his hearts content regardless of your protests.

One time, he unexpectedly rolled you up to his radio tower, wearing a particular cheery smile.

“Come, dear! I’m just about to start my podcast. Care to join me~?” He holds his hand out to you from across the room, waiting for your okay

As you give him a nod, his shadow lifts you and carries you to him as he sits at his desk, you being lowered down onto his lap soon after.

“Lucky you! Up close and personal for tonight’s show. Aww, and look at those flushed cheeks! What a doll you are~”

Alastor loves to sit you in his lap and then make fun of how flustered you get. It doesn’t happen often, him getting all close and touchy with you so when it does happen, you always panic and start stuttering.

He really gets a kick out of you being in a less than ideal situation and not being able to get out of it without him letting you. He’s a sick fuck, what’d you expect? He does it out of love~ ❤️‍🔥

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marzipanandminutiae · 9 months

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Reading A Corset, or Marzi Saw A Thing and Has Thoughts

So, yesterday, I went to the MFA to see an exhibit on the history of wedding gowns. I was pleasantly surprised by how nuanced the display and the text proved to be, and the one corset (c. 1839) that they had on display caught my eye:

Incredibly, it’s not laced shut. Holy Wasp-Waist, Batman. Interestingly, the stiffening is mostly cording with only a few bones here and there, which is not really what people expect from such a dramatically reducing piece.

So what’s going on with this corset? What clues do we have to its use and survival, knowing that extremely tiny waists were the exception and not the norm?

First of all, the placard next to it said “wedding corset.” Since the wedding corset was not a known general clothing category to my mind, that probably comes from family provenance that the original owner wore it at her wedding. And that gives us a couple of pieces of information: this was probably a fairly young woman, and the corset was worn for a special occasion. That is to say, a woman who is likely at the smallest size she would ever be in her life on a day when she particularly wanted to be in line with beauty ideals. This is not an everyday garment – it’s meant for a special occasion where one might be willing to put up with a bit more discomfort to get the fashionable look. even nowadays, we tend to expect brides to not wear their most comfortable clothing to get married in – massive skirts that drag the floor and high heels, as well as Shapeware, remain commonplace

Another salient points about the corset is that it looks PRISTINE. I clocked very little wear on it at all. That implies that it was not worn often, underscoring its role as a special occasion garment that didn’t see daily use. My guess is that this either remained in the bride’s bureau as a formalwear corset after the wedding, or possibly was taken out of circulation altogether for it sentimental value – or impracticality? One way or another, it barely looks worn at all.

So, we have a very tiny corset associated with a formal event that usually happened to young ladies, in near-perfect condition. That, coupled with what we all know of survivorship bias and the tendency for smaller clothes to last precisely because they see less frequent wear, underscores that this type of extreme waist reduction was not necessarily common during the 19th century

#dress history #fashion history #19th century #corsets

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hiroshiii13 · 20 days

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Bingqiu thoughts

There’s this post on twitter about the possibility of Bingqiu fighting about money because SQQ grew up as a 2nd rich gen while Binghe grew up poor. So what if they decided to leave their sect and start w/ only the clothes on their backs?

I still think if they were poor Binghe would work more jobs to get them by so SQQ wouldn’t feel wronged for choosing him. And SQQ would see his silent struggle and consciously pick lower grade items.

When they have a bit more money, Binghe saves up for softer robes for SQQ.

SQQ makes money teaching locals to read and write. SQQ buys him something more frivolous, like a fancy comb. (You can’t get the rich 2nd gen out of him).

It gets used everyday and it’s Binghe’s favorite thing. SQQ uses it on him daily, to tie his hair up before he starts his day.

Meanwhile, the robe is only used during special occasions when SQQ needs to look his best.

A robe and a comb. BH gives SQQ something practical that he thinks too precious to use frequently. And a comb made of ostentatious materials yet worn from years of using daily.

It’s very much how I think they love and want to be loved. Binghe would want the best for his shizun, his nicer robes would give a glimpse to how he was as a CQM peak lord; the way LBH revered him as. And it would be very comfortable. SQQ likes that it’s very lowkey and I think he only wears it on special occasions to preserve this gift for a long time. Much like how he may not be as showy in his affections, but keeps these deeply in his heart.

Meanwhile, I think SQQ as an ex-rich young master would gift something more flamboyant. Something precious and tasteful to show his love for Binghe. He’d think, this is worthy of the protagonist. But more than this, what Binghe enjoys is the daily care he receives through this gift. Something as simple as having his hair put up by his beloved, shows him he is loved everyday.

#bingqiu #mxtx #mxtx svsss #svsss #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #hiroshi drabble

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15-lizards · 6 months

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what do you think that the people of the empire of Leng would wear? there’s an illustration in twoiaf of the empress of Leng but I find her clothes very underwhelming :/ so I wanted to know what you think 🙏🏻

Leng seems to be pretty much a fantasy expy of Japan, so I usually imagine clothing from around the Heian period of the empire.

The Jūnihitoe is peak imperial fashion to me. Something so stylized that it eventually becomes impractical to move around in. Meaning that only the very wealthy can afford to put on so many layers, all of which are usually dyed and patterned. Taking from the old imperial Japanese idea of “the hidden body”, clothing is also layered as not only a sign of social rank but a protection from any evil. So obviously the God Empress is frequently dressed in as many layers as she possibly can, while her courtiers and ladies wear less, to avoid being grander than their empress

More average women have to wear less simply due to the lack of practicality that comes with so many layers. Colors and patterns are still widely used, but less extreme than royalty of course. Many different styles depending on the occasion. Simple ones like the Yukata or Komon are worn for work and everyday wear. More formal Hōmongi-inspired ones are worn for special occasions. There’s no one unifying outfit, as length of sleeves, amount of layers, types of accessories, and the appearance of trains, stolas, and sashes all depend on rank and occasion. However bright colors are often used by most people (very heavily for children) as a way to ward away any sort of evil spirits.

Veiled hats inspired by the Tang Dynasty I loooove. Pale skin is ideal, a visible mark of wealth and high rank. Along with painting the face white for special occasions (more often for nobles), the Leng probably never go out in the sun without some type of hat. For common people, they are probably made of rough fiber, slanted so that the sun doesn’t hit the sides of their face, and usually without the veil bc you can’t really work in a veil. Nobles have wide brimmed hats that can extend all the way to their shoulder and possibly farther, with curtain like veils to protect both their heads and faces from the sun

#asoiaf #asoiaf hair and clothing #Leng really is Japan right down to the mainland colonizers come and forcing them down the island

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pappydaddy · 1 year

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sorry about the shirt (f.w.)

a/n: now that i named this fic this, now i have an idea for another fic with this as a prompt.... ugh my mind, curse my cognition! also, i have deleted this and reformatted this like six times and the title is still not saving as a god-damn title anymore. ugh. tumblr (pls don't shadowban me again)

tv show/movie: harry potter | pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader

requested by the lovely @readingfan (hope you enjoy it💛!) | my little pea-sized, fred-lane brain made this a fred x reader without me realizing it until seconds before posting this

synopsis: fred and george getting a summer job in a coffee shop where a pretty girl frequents. said pretty girl seems to have fred in a trance. what could possibly go wrong? well, fred knows what could now that an innocent shirt has been ruined.

warnings: reader is described to wear sundresses | mentioned of negative thoughts about oneself (reader has negative thoughts about herself) | fred and george being teens (aged to be 18, idc if it's not canonically plausible) working in retail).

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- not my gif -

GIF by fgweasley

Summer was supposed to be a time of freedom, long nights, and recklessness and there was nobody else who knew this more than Fred and George. Unfortunately for them, it appears that their summer was going to be nothing but seeing the inside of that damn coffee shop. Fred and George rarely ever regretted a prank, but right now, they were starting to think that perhaps slipping Malfoy that candy that made his skin turn Gryffindor red and his hair a golden snitch gold wasn’t worth this. It also taught them that when Malfoy said his father would hear about this, he actually means it - sometimes.

However, no matter how funny the prank was and how much it was worth all the time they spent planning and agonizing to create the final product, it was not worth this. Not worth the wrinkled fingers that lost all feeling after wiping down every single table and counter in the cafe. Not worth the skin of the heat from the coffee machines. Not worth the horrible experience of dealing with customers. Not to mention uncomfortable uniforms. Forced to wear black jeans, black dress shirts, and a ratty old apron ten other people wore before them.

While George grumbled everyday, hoping and wishing for their return to Hogwarts (something nobody expected to hear), Fred’s summer was not a complete waste. He did not realize this when they applied for their job, but this coffee shop tucked into a hidden alleyway of Diagon Alley was often frequented by a rather pretty girl. In her flowing sundresses, her hair cascading down over her shoulders in soft waves. When he first saw her his knees nearly gave out. Then when she turned to leave (lemonade in hand - it was a hot day) and he caught a glimpse of the white ribbon tying her hair into a half-up, half-down style, George had to catch him because his knees did give out. She looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly place her.

“She’s in our year, a Hufflepuff,” Hermione had told him one day when she and Ron had visited them. They were out gathering ideas for a present for Harry. “She’s quiet, likes to stick to her routine but doesn’t shy away from new opportunities. She’s in my book club and study club. She has such a beautiful voice but she thinks it's horrible - that’s why she is so quiet.” She revealed after Fred pressed her for more information.

Unfortunately for Fred, he has yet to hear that beautiful voice since he never seems to be on the cash when she comes in or someone beats him to it - usually George as a form of twisted amusement. “Hermione was right. She does have a beautiful voice.” George blinked after the first time he took her order. It was later discovered that the reason she hates her voice was because some Slytherins had poked fun at her in First Year, leaving her with an ugly taste in her mouth and horrible self-confidence. Fred could wring their necks, every last one of them.

Anytime Fred had any downtime, he found himself thinking of her. He knew nothing of her but, yet, she consumed every thought and every dream of his. Such as today. It was a horribly humid and dreadful day. Every door to the coffee shop was open, a cooling spell was placed on the shop but it was barely fighting against the stickiness, and the owner even found some muggle fans and set them up. It was slow, barely anyone wanted to leave their houses and if they did, they surely couldn’t even think about sipping on a coffee - even one of their iced ones since the ice would probably melt before they even took their first sip.

But here was Fred, elbows digging into the counter as he hogged one of the fans. His back was facing the entrance as he moved with the fan which was oscillating. George was in the back, doing work back there but Fred was sure he was just sitting in front of that fan. “Bloody hell.” He groaned, pinching his shirt and pulling it away from him. This was torture.

“Excuse me,” A soft, hesitant voice called to him over the rattling of the fan, startling him. Turning around, his eyes widened when she saw who stood at the counter. Hair pulled up into a high ponytail, bangs hanging around her face from where the shorter strands fell out of the ponytail. Even looking right at her, he saw the ribbon she usually wore in her hair. Today’s was a pretty yellow shade, matching the sundress she wore. It was a pale yellow, nothing that jumped right out at you. “Could I get a large lemonade?” She asked him, blinking sweetly as she rolled up to the balls of her white converse. That voice. He was blown away. He was never going to be the same after hearing that beautiful sound. How could he go on with his life knowing that that voice exists and he isn’t hearing it every second of everyday.

“Yes, of course,” He nodded, rushing to the counter, nearly tripping over himself. “George, can you make a large lemonade?” He yelled out back as he typed away on the till. Instantly, George emerged, a large lemonade in hand.

“Here ya go, Y/N. I knew you would be wanting one of these today. Made it once I heard your voice.” He winked at her and Fred contemplated murdering him right there. He actually considered it when she giggled at his twin, but the sound made him stop. Everybody said her voice was the most beautiful sound, which he could agree with all his heart on now that he heard it, but her giggle. Just thinking about making her laugh made him want to lay on his stomach on his bed and kick his feet like Ginny does whenever Harry says hi to her.

“Thank you, George,” She smiled thankfully, holding out her hand. Almost as if under a spell, Fred reached his hand out, palm facing up. With her sweet smile turning to Fred, she dropped a handful of sickles in his palm. Her fingers brushed against the palm of his hand, sending shivers and sparks running through his nerves. “That’s enough for the lemonade and ten sickles for you guys to split for a tip. Thank you, Fred.”

The shock sent to Fred’s system was immense when she said his name. She knew his name. She knew his name. He opened and closed his mouth as she turned on her heel, her skirt flaring up adorably, her ponytail and ribbon flaring up as well and off she went into the dreadful heat, making Fred’s day so much better.

____

It was a rush. Possibly the biggest rush Fred and George have ever experienced at the shop. The queue was running out of the door. Perhaps everyone just now realized that summer was coming to a close and just now decided to emerge from their lazy, hazy, summer daze to enjoy the days. This, of course, made Fred miserable.

Instead of enjoying their time, patrons were making their lives a living hell. And for what? Amusement? What was the reason he had to get yelled at by a man because his coffee was too hot to drink? He questioned if it was possible that these people got some sort of happiness from throwing adult hissyfits and yelling at underpaid, overworked employees. Did they have some sort of odd kink? Did it fill a missing void? Whatever it was, Fred quite frankly did not want to be part of it.

However, when he saw that shining face in the queue, her nose buried in her book as she read so intently. She wore her hair down aside from two locks of hair tied back into a braid, secured by a light blue ribbon today. When he saw her, he froze for a moment. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way the sun burned through the dirty windows (that seemed to have fingerprint smudged permanently tattooed on it) and hit her like a golden spotlight. The way her finger absentmindedly stroked the cover of her book as she read.

“Excuse me,” The customer in front of him barked. He jolted back to reality. Frankly, he already was in reality since Y/N was completely gorgeous. There was no fantasy about that. She was perfect. The fantasy was that she had feelings for him or at least thought he was cute. “Did you get my order?” The man, a short, plump man with an angry red nose despite the beautiful summer day they were having, grumbled.

“One medium coffee. Would you like that iced or with anything in it?” Fred asked the normal questions, bracing himself for the normal response he usually received from people with certain mannerisms.

The man’s nose seemed to get even more red. “Of course I don’t. If I wanted it another way, I would have ordered it another way. What do I look like? An idiot? Rowena, you kids these days, needing to have things iced and sweetened. Whatever happened to the good British taste? Black coffee. That is what I want-”

“That will be 3 sickles, Sir.” Fred read the total off, noticing how Y/N glanced up, rolling onto her tiptoes to take note of what was taking so long. He wanted to get this nasty old man out of his line so that she could get on with her day. Her day shouldn’t be wasted in this shop waiting in line.

“Here, keep the change.” The man basically tossed the sickles at Fred. Four sickles.

“Some change,” Fred whispered under his breath, putting three sickles in the till and dropping one in the communal tip jar. That naked a total of five sickles in tips. “Have a nice day, sir,” Fred faked a smile as the man waddled off to the pick-up area, barking at George to hurry up. “I can help whoever is next.” “Two people until her.” Fred thought.

“Hi, could we get two lemonades? Mediums please,” The teen girl giggled, eyes staring up at Fred sweetly. Fred nodded, writing the order down and sliding it along the counter. Harrison, the manager, grabbed it to start making it. “So, we’ll be seeing you at Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, right, George?” She asked with a bat of her eyelashes, still getting his name wrong despite his name tag being basically eye level with her. He could see Y/N look up from her book, snickering slightly behind her book.

“I’m actually Fred. And yes. That will be seven sickles today.” Fred read off their total, holding his hand out for their money.

“Oh, sorry. You both are so handsome, it’s hard to tell you apart.” She flirted with a wink, dropping exactly seven sickles in his hand.

“Have a nice day,” He nodded to them as they wandered off with linked arms to bother George. “Next please!” He just needed to take care of this one customer and then she would be at his cash. Evidently, she noticed this as she was tucking her book into her bag and pulling out her coin wallet. He watched her intently, somehow managing to take the customer’s order and recite the amount of money he needed.

He watched as she counted the sickles she had pulled out before pulling out two more coins before doing some math in her head. He could tell since her eyes flicked around and she used her free hand to wiggle her fingers as if counting on them. “Have a nice day.” He wasn’t even sure what that customer ordered, but he must have done it right.

And up stepped the person he was waiting for. Y/N stepped up with a bounce, smiling brightly at him. He wanted to faint right there. There she was, standing there and it overwhelmed him so much that his nervous system was going haywire on him. “Hi, Freddie!” She seemed to have gotten much more comfortable. She was more bubbly and talkative with him and his brother. She even started to call them by nicknames. It warmed Fred’s heart to the point it might burst.

“Hi, Y/N, what can I get for you today?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart and malfunctioning nervous system. He was in fight-or-flight with the secret third option: faint.

“Just a large iced coffee. I am trying to finish off the last book on my book club’s summer reading list and I decided I might as well change up the scenery.” She explained, her voice much more even and comfortable. Not the same reluctant, soft voice she had when she first talked to him. And if he thought that voice was beautiful, then this voice was perfect. Alluring. Charming. Cute. Marvelous. Dazzling. Delicate. Stunning. Splendid. Gorgeous. Lovely. Any synonym there was for beautiful because this voice was so much better.

Before he could even tell her the total, she handed him the sickles she had counted out prior to the interaction. She always did it. “Three sickles for the iced coffee and how many for the tip?” He asked, knowing exactly how she worked things.

“Fifteen. Five for everyone who worked today,” She smiled as she rolled up to the balls of her feet - something he found that she did often. The line was gone aside from her and part of Fred wished it would stay away so she could stand there talking to him, but unfortunately someone walked in. “I’ll leave you to it, Fred.” She smiled at him. It appeared sad and part of him hoped that she felt upset about having to part from him.

He watched her walk over to George who held her coffee out to her. Sharing pleasantries, she headed off to one of the many tables. Taking her normal table by the window. “Alright boys. I am heading out, I’ll be back in two hours to close it down.” Harrison told them. That was most likely the last rush of the day. People didn’t tend to frequent the coffee shop near close. They gave him nods as he left.

Thirty minutes and they hadn’t stopped. Anytime they saw a lull coming, once they served one customer, two more would come. Just as Fred turned his back, taking a deep breath as the attack stopped, he heard the approaching footsteps of someone. He wanted to roll his eyes and outwardly show the resentment he had felt, but he didn’t feel the same hostility he had felt with the last few customers. Part of him should have known why before he turned around, but sometimes he isn’t always on the ball.

As he turned around, he was pleasantly shocked to see Y/N standing there at the counter again, her head down as she inspected the wet patch on her blue sundress. After a few seconds of silence, she looked up, hand hovering over the patch on the center of her torso. “Hey, Fred, again,” She smiled, a bit awkwardly as she didn’t usually come up after she got her order unless it was to say bye to the boys (something rather new after she got comfortable with them). “Do you think I could get a napkin? That last customer who left kind of knocked into me a bit and I got the last bit of iced coffee on me-” She cut herself off as Fred reacted without thinking, grabbing the back of his brother’s black shirt and ripping it off of him.

“Here you go, Y/N.” He handed it to her. Shocked, she took it from him. George just stood there, blinking at his brother as if he had gone completely mad. Fred considered this a sign that perhaps, working nearly every single day of the summer had made him cracked in the head. Slowly, looking at the face Y/N was making, he came back into his body. It was as if seeing Y/N in need made him go into autopilot, doing whatever he needed to to resolve the issue Y/N was facing.

“Fred, what in Godric's name?” George questioned, still a bit shocked that his brother completely ripped the back of his shirt off, leaving just his sleeves and the front. It was silent as the three of them all looked at each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Fred couldn’t even remember his brain telling him to do that, let alone any thought of ripping his brother’s shirt.

The silence was broken by the sweet giggles of Y/N. Fred nearly gave himself whiplash turning his head to look at her. There she stood, on the other side of the counter, one hand holding the tattered shreds of George’s shirt, the other one hovering over her mouth as her giggled turned into laughter, eyes crinkling closed. “Oh my Helga,” She pressed her lips together, her purely magnetic eyes opening and meeting Fred’s with a zing being sent through Fred’s body like electricity (which this summer, he discovered was pretty dangerous). “I needed that, Freddie. That guy who bumped my arm as a complete arse-” Fred blinked, that might have been the most foul he had ever heard her talk, though Hermione had told him she had said much worse about some of the guys in their year. “You know exactly what to do to make people laugh, it’s an amazing gift,” She nodded at him, a large smile hanging off her lips. “Thank you, see you at Hogwarts if I am not in next week.” She whispered as she rolled onto the balls of her feet.

Before Fred could react, she was pressing her lips against his cheek. Her sweet looking lips felt even sweeter against the now burning flesh of his freckled cheeks. He knew that now he felt her lips, he wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about how they would feel against his own lips, but right now his brain was empty. He couldn’t function as she pulled away, heels crashing to the ground. A bashful smile stayed on her lips as she waved to the pair of them, Fred so far gone he barely even registered the fact that her lips were no longer touching him - probably due to the fact that the tingling he felt was still there. When he finally came back into his body again, Y/N and her bashfulness had left with her book tucked under her arm for almost five minutes. Blinking around, Fred saw the basically empty shop, the only person lingering being someone who had been there for two hours now. Looking to his side, he felt George’s “what the hell” look before he saw it. Winching, nervous about his brother’s wrath. “Sorry about the shirt, George.”

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mirage-aera · 4 months

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•°. *࿐ Leave a light on

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

Zombie au, don’t like don’t read.

Synopsis: When a scouting mission goes south and the 141 get stranded for days without help. They got told they would be sent updates for evac everyday at dawn. A hope to get out alive. So when the day came that Shepherd broke the news that they are on their own and a member died, they decided to try and make it back themselves. Ghost loses it at the sight of seeing Shepherd once they return.

Word count: 4.102

Masterlist

In the early stages of the outbreak, the government tried to keep control of the situation as much as they possibly could by sending out whatever was left of the military and mowing down the infected with the limited amount of ammunition they had. Once they realized that won’t work they decided scouting missions would be the plan to scavenge for various things that could be proved useful. However, people will get infected, specifically people who are fed up with living behind walls and want to try and survive out there. Outside of the safe sanctuary, the not-so-experienced won’t even last a day. And the military? Well, only the elite teams and some mercenaries are left. Within a week the majority of the emergency workers and military ceased to function. Too few of them to do something. Sooner than later, soldiers started dropping like flies, most of them turned as well and had to be killed by their own brothers and sisters during the ‘mowing down as many infected as you can’ operations. Which was just sending young men and women to their deaths. Once supplies started running low, the people who are running the shitshow have decided to send the 141 for supply runs. That currently is a 5 man army. Somehow you’ve always scrapped by some miracle.

Except this time. Eventually, you find yourselves trapped in an abandoned hotel, which is no doubt filled with those infected. With a horde of infected waiting outside of the building, there’s no way to get out of there. With no ammunition, and a limited amount of rations. The only thing you have going for yourselves is you’re all still alive granted, a little worse for wear, but still alive, and a radio. You’re hiding in the lobby of the hotel. You hear occasional bangs of infected trying to get into the building and the moaning and groaning that comes with the package. John immediately goes into captain mode. Something he frequently does when you leave the walls to go for supplies runs. “Soap, Gaz. Make sure to keep an eye on those infected outside and that they don’t come inside. If they come inside we’re in trouble. Ghost, radio Shepherd. Tell him we are stranded and need help getting out of this shithole. Hawk, you’re with me. We’re going to explore this place a bit. For if we need to retreat further into the building we can.” ‘Roger’ and ‘copy that’ are said and you all get to work. Simon immediately gets on the radio and tries contacting the general. He glances at you as you get ready to head with John further in. “Be careful.” You nod and give him a small smile as you check your gear, “you know I am.” He stares at you with worried eyes but says nothing. He continues fiddling with the radio. The thing is barely working but it’s one of the only options you have. Johnny and Kyle are watching the infected intently, specifically at the weak spots, like the windows and doors. If they start cracking they need to move instantly.

You move with John through the lobby as you traverse the ground floor of the hotel. “Keep your gun up and check your corners.” John says quietly, not wanting to alert the undead if they are here. “Yes sir,” you mutter out. You enter the restaurant area. It’s completely covered in blood but no undead to be seen. Either they’ve been dealt with before or they moved somewhere else. You can see that John comes to the same conclusion as you, “let’s keep moving.” You nod as you follow him. You continue doing the same for the kitchen area. Noticing it’s empty as well, you lower your gun and check the cabinets. Not bothering with the fridge, food in there would be spoiled by now. You grab whatever canned foods you can find and store them in your backpack. John does the same. With this routine, you secure the ground floor.

Meanwhile, Simon has made contact with Shepherd, “General. We need immediate help. We are surrounded by a horde of infected. We are currently holed up in the hotel.” He hears crackling as he awaits an answer from the general, “I hear you. We will try and lure the infected away, I will update you.” Simon mutters out a ‘copy that’ before letting go of the button. Now it’s time to play the waiting game and hope they don’t have to play it for too long. Simon pulls out his journal from his bag. Ever since the outbreak started he started journaling. It’s to help keep him sane, but it’s also to keep track of the evolution of the undead and the decline of humanity. He pulls out a pen as well and starts writing.

Day 109

Today we got sent out for another supply run as we’re running low on everything. Things went south when a horde of infected surrounded us. Now we’re stuck in the abandoned hotel awaiting evac from General Shepherd. I got assigned the radio while Kyle and Johnny were watching the windows and doors. John and (Y/n) were exploring the hotel in case we needed to retreat further in the building.

Shepherd said he will update us, this could take hours or even days.

- Simon

He draws a little skull face next to his name. A habit that you got him into. You said that during these unfortunate times, a little fun will be a good thing to make it less depressing. Sooner than later you and John return. You’ve cleared the ground and first floor. No undead lurking around those areas. You’re free to retreat in any of those areas if it comes down to it. Kyle and Johnny share their observations concerning the windows, stating they will do but won’t last long. Simon conveys Shepherd’s words along. That evacuation might take a couple of days. So either find a way back yourselves or wait for Shepherd to send help. You’d rather find a way yourselves than wait on that snake. You can tell by the others’ expressions they feel the same way as you do. John calls out, “we’ll wait for Shepherd. We have better chances of getting out of this, all of us. If we can get some help clearing the guys outside.” No one is too happy with his decision but you trust his intuition. He has gotten you all out before on past missions and during the apocalypse, so why won’t he now?

The rest of the day is spent chatting amongst yourselves and watching the windows. You’ve agreed that for the night you’ll alternate, with at least 2 at a time. You can’t take any risks. You would hate to wake up with a zombie chewing on your leg if you accidentally fall asleep, that would be just unfortunate. You and Simon take the first watch. Letting the others get some rest. You watch as the undead growls angrily at you through the glass. Simon puts an arm around your waist, “seems so surreal, doesn’t it?” You nod, it really does. “Funny how we used to joke that it would never happen, now look where we are.” You say bitterly. He nods, “can’t say we’re prepared for this either.” Comfortable silence envelopes you, aside from the groaning and banging. “Tomorrow John and I are checking the rooms on the second floor. Those are likely to be filled with infected.” You grimace at the thought of them. Yes, you’ve killed countless of them, but it doesn’t make them any less disgusting. He glances at you before turning his gaze to the windows again, “I can go instead of you if you’d feel safer.” He offers. Your eyes soften at his proposal, “it’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” You lightly jest. You can tell he’s smiling behind the balaclava with the way his eyes are crinkling. “I do not doubt that, lovie.” You change the subject, “can I borrow your journal?” He raises an eyebrow but gives it to you nonetheless. You grab a pen out of your pocket and flip to his latest entry. You smile at the little skull face. You draw a tiny hawk next to it with a few endearing words and close the journal handing it back to him. You’ve done the same thing to some of his other entries. You have no clue if he has noticed. If he has then he hasn’t said anything about it.

After some time passes you get relieved by Kyle and John. You wordlessly get up and head back to where Johnny is probably snoring away. You spot him resting on his pack, using it as a pillow. Completely out cold. Simon snickers at the sight while you let out a small chuckle. Simon does the same, he sets his pack down on the floor and uses it as a pillow. He beckons you over with his arms outreached. You smile as you shuffle over into his arms. He rests your head on his chest, allowing you to use him as a pillow. He drapes his jacket over you two to act as a blanket. Even in a precarious situation, moments like these with him are the safest you could ever be. “Get some rest, lovie. You’ll need the energy.” He didn’t have to say that twice. A few seconds later you’re immediately out.

The next morning you wake up to the crackle of the radio. Simon is already up and listening to it. He sits on the floor with your head in his lap as he plays with your hair. He notices that you’re awake. He looks down at you, “good morning. Sleep well?” You smile tiredly at him, “yeah I did.” He nods before turning his attention back to the radio once he hears his name. You can faintly hear Shepherd’s voice on the radio. As the two continue their exchange you get up and walk over to John, who’s already up and probably waiting for you. You greet him as you grab your gear. He smiles briefly at you before nodding, “ready to go?” You nod, “ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.” No further words need to be said, he leads the way to the second floor.

As you head up the stairs. John speaks in a hushed manner, “just like yesterday. Guns up and check your corners. We’re likely to see them here, especially in the rooms.” He informs you. “Got it.” You check your corners as you move through the hallway. While John goes the other way. Sure enough, there’s an infected standing idly in the middle. Its joints are misaligned and softly grunting. You raise your gun to its head and fire. The silencer made sure that others weren’t alerted to your position. It slumps to the floor in a heap. Soon John rounds the corner and looks at the body on the floor and then at you. “That makes three then.” You nod. “Let’s check the open rooms, could be they have something useful for us.” You follow him as you clear rooms together, shooting down unsuspecting infected as well. You search the rooms for left-behind canned goods, ammunition, anything that can be proven useful. Most of these rooms have come up empty or the only things left behind are useless objects. John shakes his head as he emerges from a bathroom, “nothing useful here. Let’s go, we’ll check the other floor.” He says as he moves to the staircase. “Roger.” You quietly stick behind him, raising your gun as you go up. He holds his hand up as he motions there are three of them in front of him. You nod as you wait for his signal to take them down together.

He gives the go and you swiftly take care of them. They slump to the floor. You move up using the same strategy before. You’ll pinch them in the hallway and clear rooms together. He heads the other way as you continue going forward. You come across two more. You shoot them down and meet up with John. You hear two more thuds, signaling that he killed two as well. He comes into your sight as you lower your gun. “Fuck there’s a lot up here.” He whispers. You hum in agreement. “John. I think we should head back. There’s likely to be more in the rooms and there’s only two of us. If we get overwhelmed in a small confined room… It's too risky.” You warn him. He takes in your words. He knows you’re right. “Let’s go. You’re right, it’s not worth it. If anything happens we can just run to the roof.�� You smile gratefully at him, happy that he considered your advice. You head back to the group. The two are still watching the ones outside and Simon is messing with the radio. John gives him a look. Simon shakes his head, “nothing new.” He says in frustration. “We might need to find our own way out soon.” He states. Or what he’s trying to say is, ‘Shepherd is going to leave us high and dry.’ John sighs, “I know.”

Night falls, the groaning and moaning outside lessens as they can’t see you inside anymore. You sit with Simon as the guys chatter about mindless things to pass the time. He wraps his arms around your waist as he converses with Johnny. Eventually its lights out as you all settle down for the night.

A few days pass with the usual things happening around you. John and you have cleared the way to the roof, Kyle and Johnny expressing their concerns with the window that’s separating the army of undead from you. Simon is still on the radio, growing more frustrated by the day. With the lack of updates, everyone is growing a bit restless. Well aware that you are in trouble if they don’t make an effort for you. As a new dawn comes you can hear Simon yelling into the radio. “What the fuck do you mean you’re holding off on support?!” His yelling wakes the others aside from John, who’s staring at the infected outside with a grimace. “So that’s it?! You’re leaving us?!” You hear him shout again. You aren’t stupid, you all know what’s going on. The general is abandoning you. The banging on the windows intensifies. Suddenly you hear cracking before glass shatters everywhere. “Everyone! To the roof now!” John barks out as he runs. You all follow suit, knowing damn well you can’t fight off the horde. You bolt up the stairs, the zombies following you, clambering up. Price pushes the door and holds it open as he waits for you all.

You make it through, the only one who hasn’t yet is Simon. As you look behind you to see what’s happening, your eyes widen in horror. You see him on the floor with one of those grabbing onto one of his legs. He’s kicking frantically at it, trying to keep its jaws off of him. You all left your guns behind in the panic. You pat your holster for your pistol and pull it out. You aim at the snarling thing and fire. Except it doesn’t fall back. Your pistol clicks, making you realize it’s empty. You’re out of ammo. In a panic you rush over to him, and you see the rest of the horde also closing in on him. He looks at them and then at you. “No! Stay back! There’s too many, just go!” You shake your head as you ignore his orders. There’s still time. You notice that the creature’s bottom half is still inside the stairwell. You run over and slam the door shut as much as it can go. You can feel the other zombies crashing into the door you’re desperately trying to keep shut. Their hands reaching out and trying to grab at you and Simon. Some have their heads sticking out as they try to snap their jaws at you. You grimace in disgust.

Simon kicks harder but the damn thing is determined to stay on him. Not thinking straight, you push your leg out to shove it away. Revealing your leg as its new meal. It snaps its head to your leg shoving it back inside the stairwell and latches onto you. Simon quickly pulls his leg out as he watches it bite you. You rip your leg out of its mouth in pain. Simon helps you shut the door completely and barricades it. He looks at you and then at your leg. You look at your leg in more detail. A bite mark. You realize you’re going to be one of them. His eyes soften, “lovie…” he gently calls out. You snap your head to him before screaming out in anger, and frustration. You ran out of luck. The others can only look on in surprise. It all happened so fast. One minute you were fine and the next you’re going to turn into one of those.

Eventually, your screams of anguish die down and are instead replaced by sobs as you collapse to the floor of the roof. Simon immediately falls next to you and cradles you in his arms, trying his best to comfort you. A few tears of his own slip, aware of what's going to happen. He shushes you as he tries to get his words across, “everything will be fine. You’ll be okay. Nothing will happen.” He blurts out. You both know those are empty promises. Everything is far from fine, you won’t be okay, and you’ll turn into one of them. That’s the hard truth. But it does the trick, it stops your mind from going into overdrive and his voice is calming you down. You sigh, “Simon. You promised at the start of this shitshow.” You softly say. He shakes his head, he knows what you are getting at. You promised when this all started that if one of you is going to turn the other would kill the one who’s compromised before fully turning.

“Not yet, please lovie. I can’t.” He clutches onto you. You look at him sadly. It isn’t easy for both of you. “I don’t want to become one of them. Please, Simon, do it for me.” He looks at you, tears soaking his balaclava. The rest of the group surrounds you both. They all look at you sadly. They're used to seeing people bit and turn, but it never was one of their own. You give them a small smile, “make it back for me, okay boys.” You look at Simon, “leave a light on for me? I’ll visit you. I promise.” He lets out a watery chuckle and frowns, “I’ll leave a light on for you.” He confirms. He pulls off his balaclava, showing his face to you. You smile, “there’s the handsome face I know and love.” You caress his jaw. He smiles sadly at you. He leans down to your face. Soon his lips meet yours as you share your last intimate moment. He pulls away and looks at the bite mark on your leg. Which is already swelling, black veins starting to spread, and your skin turning a purplish color. You smile at him, ready to go. “It’s time, love.” He shakes his head once more. You frown, not wanting to see him like this. You hear the barricade failing on the door, they’ll burst through any minute. The others noticed as well. “Simon we have to go…” Johnny voices out, handing his pistol to him. Knowing he doesn’t have his on him. Simon takes it shakily and looks at you, “I can’t leave you here.” You squeeze his hand, “it’s alright. They won’t hurt me anymore.” He lets out a shaky sigh but nods. He points the pistol to your forehead. A quick death, he’ll be damned if he lets you suffer. You nod at him, “I love you, Simon.” He smiles at you, tears falling. You close your eyes, “I love you too, lovie. Always.” The shot rings out as your body slumps forward.

He catches your limp body, ignoring the blood soaking his vest, and rests you in a corner so that you won’t be disturbed. He takes your dog tags off of you and puts it around his neck. He takes your pistol as well. It’s empty, but at least he’ll have something of yours that he can kill those bastards with, in your stead. He looks at you one last time before the door gets pushed down. “We have to leave!” John notifies the others. Simon follows as they make their way down the fire escape. Once they’re safely on the ground, they catch their bearings and march their way to the base.

Hours later, the dark blanket of the night conceals them. They’re met at the gate by soldiers who look at them surprised. Showing them that Shepherd has sealed their deaths. Anger courses through Simon’s veins. Once they’re checked and let through, Simon wastes no time to storm over to Shepherd’s office. He bursts through the door and glares at the man. Shepherd is surprised to see him, alive and well. “You!” Simon seethes. Shepherd looks at him, unbothered. “You made it out after all.” Simon raises an eyebrow, “you left us to die! You told me you were going to attempt! That’s why we waited, you bastard!” He roars in anger. This time Shepherd raises an eyebrow, “you all made it out no?” He can feel his eye twitch at his question. “She is dead because you couldn’t make a rescue effort in the first place.” He seethes in a low voice. He continues, “we could’ve all made it out if you could’ve just said you weren’t going to make an effort on day 1. You lost one of your best soldiers and you are solely to blame.” He says coldly. Shepherd nods, “if you’re done blaming me you can leave, Simon.” His eyes have a fire in them, “you can not call me that!! It is and always will be Ghost to you!” He yells. He has so many more insults to say to his face, but he does not feel like getting executed now. He has a promise to fulfill for you. He storms out of the office and walks to his room. He slams the door shut, throws his pack across the room, and sits on the floor. Not bothering to sit on the bed or by his desk.

Eventually, he gets up to grab a candle. He puts it by the window as he sits at his desk. He grabs his lighter from his pocket and sets the candle alight. “Hope you can see this from wherever you are, lovie.” He says to no one. Wishing you could hear him. He grabs his journal and sets it on his desk. He stares at it for a moment. He slams his palm on the desk, rattling the whole thing and everything resting on it. The loss of you dawned on him. He rests his head in his hands as tears start falling again. He cries it out, the flame illuminating his face, giving his tears a golden glow. Once he gathers himself he opens the journal and flips to a new page.

Day 114

I hope you are happier wherever you are than you were here. I’ll come see you in a few years. Until then, I’ll leave a light on for you at night. So you can always find your way back here. Rest well, my love. I love you, always.

- Simon

He draws his usual skull face next to his name, knowing you’ve always loved it. He flips a page back. Remembering you were writing something last time. What he sees makes new tears fall. He sees your little hawk next to his skull face and a message for him.

‘No matter what. If you leave a light on I will always come back to you, in this lifetime and the next. Even in the afterlife. I will come find you Simon Riley.’

Tears fall on his journal, staining the paper. But fortunately, none lands on your writing. He feels a cold air enveloping him. As if it’s hugging him. He thinks nothing of it. All he wants is you, in his arms. As he sobs he swears he hears your voice.

“I found you, love. I’m here now.”

#cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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hobieszeze · 4 months

Text

Dragon Hobie HC

~This has nsfw in it~

Dragon!Hobie who is so utterly obsessed with his collection he does his ALL to protect it

Dragon!Hobie who sees reader when they come into his cave and easily wants to add then to his collection

Dragon!Hobie who wasnt threatened by readers presence and took it more happily then anything, as long as they listened. Meaning they couldnt go into some parts of his cave

Dragon!Hobie who would steal stuff that was stolen and turn it back to the rightful owners/where it had orginally came from

Dragon!Hobie who stopped caring about his collection so much, his focused shifted onto you

Dragon!Hobie who became obsessed with you and your the only thing he truly cares about now, you truly are his collection. Which makes him extre possessive, even if its to a crazy point.. but then again -“Ya are m’ gem.”

Dragon!Hobie who claims you are his now, its out of no where and he just calls you his

Dragon!Hobie who made you a present from stuff from his collection (stuff hed NEVER give anyone until now)

Dragon!Hobie who couldnt stop thinking about you ever since youd come see him everyday in his cave

Dragon!Hobie who gets so possessive of you and also makes things to claim you as his

Dragon!Hobie who sees you wear stuff hes given you, it automatically makes him hard

Dragon!Hobie who will fuck you anywhere at anytime. Just hed fuck you, he has wings and hell take you in the air and fuck you up in the air near the clouds.

Dragon!Hobie whose wings, tails, and horns/ear thingies will give you hints to if hes horny or not

Dragon!Hobie who frequently will use his wings and tails during sex to help pleasure you

Dragon!Hobie who wants nothing more than to make you happy in anyway as hes obsessed with you!

Dragon!Hobie who treats you like he will break you and then later he fucking does break you

Dragon!Hobie who loves readers curiousity and obliviousness

Dragon!Hobie who loves reader for themselves

Dragon!Hobie who is glad someone appreciates him like you do

Dragon!Hobie who wasnt shown kindness like you had given him in years

Dragon!Hobie who watches over you whenever to make sure your okay and no harm comes to you at all cost.

Dragon!Hobie who still keeps some stuff hidden from you not to scare you off

Dragon!Hobie who youve seen in his fully dragon form, and honestly you just cuddled him. And it was like the best cuddles you got as dragons are huge as fuck.

Dragon!Hobie who misses you and will jerk off to anything youve given him, especially to those photos of you

Dragon!Hobie who youve communicated with him that yall can do certain things to each other

Dragon!Hobie who takes advantage of that whenever he is done hunting and needs to release

Dragon!Hobie who just really wants the world to go away and just wants to be with you

Dragon!Hobie who just genuinely wants to make you happy. Who dances with you in the nighttime sky while he makes sure to never let go of you.

Dragon!Hobie who had an electric guitar somehow (He yoinked it from someone years back. And then taught himself how to play)

Dragon!Hobie who has claws and uses them during sex. He grips your waist, your throat, anything he can grip he does. It enhances how you feel and the dangerous possibilities of it. It’s similar to a knife but hes very good with his hands and knows how to control them

Dragon!Hobie who has gotten rough and has made you bleed countless of times by his claws but not enough to do damage to you,

Dragon!Hobie who has to do his best to control himself with you but he ends up losing control one day and his control never comes back after that

Dragon!Hobie who most definitely stalks you during the day as protection and might be slightly crazy when it comes to you, but your his prized thing. He cant lose you.

I could write so many more headcanons for dragon hobie! But I plan to make a fanfic about him later so! This is just a basis about some of dragon!hobie . He is still mostly like the hobie we see in atsv. If i could id rant about dragon hobie all day, but alas i need sleep. And i need to write about him

Gonna be my first fanfic with hobie it’s certainly gonna be interesting, lets see if ill ever get around to writing it. And if i dont im sorry, I plan to though. Just my writing block is as bad as my art block. Meaning a lot of stuff goes unfinished

@eyesxxyou bc i told you i planned on writing headcanons so here you go!

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown loml acc #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie my beloved #Dragon!Hobie #hobie

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈)

[panel reads from right to left]

» Part 2 [ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This was initially parts 1 and 2, but I decided to combine them. [ SYNOPSIS ] Summer is approaching and you desire to attend class like a good student is dwindling. You decide to ditch class and soak up the sun (okay, Sheryl Crow), but end up face-to-face with star pitcher, Zeke Yeager, who has similar plans. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.8k [ CONTENT ] High school AU, cigarettes, poor school attendance, Grisha's a shitty dad, and you have to ride a bike up a steep ass hill.

“Wait, so you’re really going to ditch?” Pieck asked.

She was always unimpressed with your life choices though her judgment did little to stop you. You haphazardly tossed your physics textbook in your locker and slammed it shut.

“It’s Friday. What could I possibly miss?”

Pieck sighed. “I don’t know, a pop quiz?”

“A pop quiz? I don’t think I’ve ever had a pop quiz in my academic career.”

“We’ve definitely had them.”

“Okay, but who actually calls them that? It’s not like we live in a John Hughes movie.”

You both headed down the hall, towards the back of the school. It was the easiest way to escape the campus. All the other openings were patrolled by the one lazy campus cop that spent his time harassing students for no good reason.

“I guess this is where we part then,” Pieck muttered. “I’ll let you know if you miss anything…”

She wandered off, angry you’d be letting her suffer in physics class all alone.

“Sorry!” You waved, hoping she’d turn around. But she never did.

You pushed through the double doors and relished in the sunlight kissing your skin. It was 90 degrees but a cool breeze tempered the heat. A perfect day in June.

You looked around, not a soul in sight. You crept past a couple beige portables the school built three years ago.

“… I thought portables were supposed to be temporary,” you mumbled under your breath once you cleared the area.

“They just tell us that to placate us.”

You whipped around to see star pitcher and general nuisance, Zeke Yeager, laying down in the grass. He was wearing his cream colored fitted baseball pants; the knees strained with brown dirt. He wore a tight white t-shirt tucked into his pants with a black belt. He sat up, and lit a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses, and looked you up and down.

“Don’t you have class?” He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke in your general direction.

“I could easily ask you the same thing.”

“Feel free.”

“Don’t you have cl—”

“Oh yeah, I had physics but I decided to skip it today. Do I really need to learn about gravity if I already deal with it everyday?”

You gave him a quizzical look. He could not have been this dense. His grey eyes met yours; his gaze was intense.

“I’m kidding.”

You stood around awkwardly. Part of you wanted to peace out and let this talking ashtray go back to laying on the field. But the other part was transfixed by his demeanor.

“I figured. You don’t look that stupid,” you said.

“What class are you ditching?”

You dropped your backpack and sat next to Zeke, making sure to keep some distance from him. He was cute and it made you woefully nervous.

“Anatomy.”

“Lame. I would’ve ditched too.”

Zeke was notorious for his shitty attendance. He was perpetually ten minutes late. And he ditched class whenever he felt like it. No one gave him any shit though because he was on the baseball team. Your high school followed the classic rule: athletes can basically do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don’t fail their courses.

That was something Zeke never needed to worry about. He was intelligent, one of the smartest boys in your class. He had never gotten a single F in his life. You only knew this because people tended to talk about him in the halls. He wasn’t popular by any means, but everyone knew him. He was the best pitcher on the team. He frequently got caught smoking cigarettes in the bathroom. He got invited to all the parties.

“What class would you not ditch?” You questioned.

He lit another cigarette with the cherry end of his previous one.

“I don’t know. I like lit and film a lot.”

Your jaw dropped.

“I wanted to get into that class so bad!”

He snickered. “What did you get instead?”

“… Multicultural lit. Also known as, let’s read books from Western European countries because that’s so multicultural. I fail to recognize how reading a bunch of books by old white men is multicultural in any sense.”

“Are you implying white men operate under a universal culture?”

“And if I am?”

He took a drag. “You’re a genius.”

Your face grew hot. No one had ever called you a genius before, jokingly or not.

“Th—thanks.”

“Yeah, most of my teammates got into lit and film pretty easy, but you know… Privilege.”

You couldn’t hide your distaste. “It’s bullshit.”

“Oh, no! You’re absolutely right. I assure you I am the only one in there that knows we have a 12 page paper on Rashomon due next week.”

You threw your hands up in the air. “See! I want to write an essay on Kurosawa!”

He laughed. “You can write mine, if you want.”

You looked at him, completely dumbfounded.

“Ew, no.”

He playfully elbowed you in the ribs.

“I figured it was worth a shot. You want one?”

He offered you a cigarette. It was one of those weird brown ones, no filter. You’d only smoked once at a party. You had chugged three light beers and decided to bum one off of a rando. A menthol. It didn’t vibe with your lungs to say the least.

But for whatever reason, you said, “Sure.”

He handed you one and you were puzzled. You examined both ends, not sure which one you should light.

“Here,” he said softly.

He plucked the cigarettes from your hands and held it to your lips. His face was so close to yours, you thought you would die right then and there. You parted your lips and accepted the cigarette. He held a lighter to the end.

“Inhale,” he commanded.

You did and immediately coughed.

“Shit, my throat,” you choked out.

He placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud father.

“Feels good, right?”

“Hardly.” You took another drag and coughed.

“Are you trying to look cool for me, kiddo?”

“No,” you gasped.

He squeezed your shoulder and then proceeded to take the cigarette from you.

“You’re too pretty to smoke anyway.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?” you parroted back.

He blushed. “It didn’t imply it so much as directly admit it,” he laughed.

“What the fuck is going on here? Yeager, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

It was the campus cop. You panicked. You weren't a little miss perfect type, but you would be grounded for a month if you got caught cutting class. The cop was far off enough that you could maybe make a break for it. You stared at the gate in the distance. You were fast. And Zeke was an athlete so running should be easy for him. The cop began to lumber towards you both.

“Let’s go,” you whispered, sneakily putting your backpack on.

“What?”

The cop was cresting the hill. You were running out of time.

“Let’s,” you stood up, “go!”

You grabbed Zeke by the wrist and dragged him upright.

“Where?”

You pointed at the gate.

“C’mon, baseball boy, I’m not trying to go to baby jail.”

You both ran towards the gate. You prayed for freedom. You looked back at the cop and finally reached your original location. He stood confused and shouted, “Yeager! Where you going, dude?!”

“Dude?” you panted. You don’t know what possessed you to speak while running for your life.

“Yeah, he tries to act like we’re cool. It’s odd.”

You stopped once you reached the gate. You slid through the opening and ended up in a residential area. You were both catching your breath when you noticed you were still holding onto him.

“Oh fuck, my bad.”

“Huh?” He looked down at his wrist. “Oh! Ha, you’re fine. I didn’t mind your gorilla grip. I doubt I would’ve ran that fast on my own. I am in sandals.”

He gestured towards his feet, he was in fact wearing Birkenstocks and white gym socks.

“Well, now what?” you pondered.

You examined the row of tract homes, some more derelict than others. Most of the windows were busted in leaving the sidewalk glittered with broken glass. You dragged your foot across the shards, relishing in the noise of it cracking under your weight.

Zeke stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I’m gonna head home. I wanna nap before practice.”

“Oh,” you said dejectedly.

You were hoping you would go on some sort of adventure together. Maybe grab burritos. Talk more about Kurosawa films. Smoke his fancy cigarettes. Maybe even rest your head on his shoulder.

“But I’m not doing anything after. We might be going kind of late tonight, but if you’re free we should meet up.”

“Really?!” You adjusted your tone so you didn’t sound so eager. “Yeah, I don’t have anything going on so sure.”

“Cool. Here.” He handed you his phone. “Add your number.”

You added your number to his contacts list.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, handing his phone back to him.

“Not sure, but you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He punctuated the sentence with a wink and walked off.

You sighed and decided to head home. You were a latchkey kid so it’s not like anyone would be waiting for you. Halfway through your journey your phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession. You checked it and saw messages from an unknown number:

you’re not gonna be one of those gorgeous girls that ghosts me, right? sorry that sounds so pathetic. promise i’m not one of those guys that get butthurt over a girl i’m looking forward to hanging out lol SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death.

Ghosting Zeke did cross your mind, mostly because you wanted to beat him to the punch. You found it hard to believe he wanted anything to do with you. It wasn’t a lack of confidence on your part; you knew you were hot shit. Simply put it all felt absurd, too idyllic. Meet up with him after baseball practice? Ha, sure.

But to your surprise you got a series of texts.

SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death. WAS THAT INAPPROPRIATE TO SAY? i feel like it was. was it weird? 😂 hella weird but it's okay for the record that emoji was ironic sure it was. is 8 too late? ... i take it back. i rhymed. we can’t hang out. sorry ⚰️

You opted to call him. The phone rang for what felt like forever

“He would be the type to not answer his—”

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hi! Uh,” you spat out in a panic.

Words were a foreign concept. You hadn’t thought about what you’d say after he answered the phone. You weren’t much of a planner evidently.

“Is 8 too la—Nope, not doing it again. Does 8 work for you?”

You smiled at him avoiding the rhyme. His voice radiated pride.

“Nope. I’m not some baby.”

“Never said you were one, kiddo.”

“Kiddo? Really?”

“I said what I said.”

Could he be anymore obnoxious? You shook your head. He probably could.

You sighed. “Whatever. What do you wanna do?”

“Can you ride a bike?”

You paused. “… Yes.”

“Do you have one?”

You thought hard. Your mom had a beat up, turquoise fixed gear she kept in the garage but you couldn’t even remember the last time you rode a bike.

“Yeah, I have my mom’s.”

“Cool. I’ll drop a pin. See you soon, beautiful.”

He hung up before you could even comprehend a word he said. You looked down at your outfit. You felt anything other than beautiful. You got off your bed and walked over to your closet. You eyed a floral-print sundress but shook your head. You barely knew him! It had only been a few hours since you last saw him. You never put this much thought into stuff like this, so why start now? You had every reason in the world to be confident.

But alas, you remained self-conscious. Plagued with insecurity and teenage woe.

“Try hard,” you murmured.

Nothing looked particularly appealing. You were embarrassed it crossed your mind to look cute for Zeke.

“Gross. If anything I should look uglier.”

You decided not to change your outfit. There was no reason to overthink it. You were going biking with the guy and it’s not even like it was a date. He just asked you to hang out in a very flirtatious way.

You ran downstairs and crept into the garage to grab your mom’s bike. As you managed to free it from the closet you knocked over the recycling bin.

“Sweetie, is everything okay out there?”

You panicked. She wouldn’t mind you taking her bike, nor would she mind you going out on a Friday night. But you couldn’t bear the thought of telling her you were going to meet up with a boy. You hit the switch and opened the garage door.

“Yup. Yes. 100%.” You grimaced as you exited. “I’ll be home late. I’ll text you if I die or something.”

“Sounds good.”

And off you went.

You biked to the spot Zeke told you to meet him at. The whole thing felt kind of shady the more you thought about it. It didn’t help that he essentially had you scaling a hill. You knew by the time you got to the top you’d be sweaty. The only thing that kept you sane was knowing he’d likely be gross from baseball practice.

“Fuck,” you panted. “This is so not cool. I can’t believe I let this shithead convince me—”

“Hey there!”

You dropped your concentration for a brief moment and glanced up to see Zeke. He waved manically, clearly hamming it up for you. Typical boy nonsense.

“You’re so close! You can do it!”

You finally reached the top of the hill and leaned your mom’s bike down on the ground. You sat down on the curb and tried to catch your breath.

“Hi,” was all you could cough out.

Zeke sat down beside you. He was still in his baseball uniform. He draped an arm around you, giving you a little squeeze.

“Nice bike!”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. Shockingly he didn’t reek. He smelled like a pleasant combination of peppermint Altoids and additive-free tobacco.

“If I had known you’d be rolling up on a Bianchi I would’ve had us meet on flat land. You could’ve hopped on the back of mine.”

He leaned his head on top of yours. You typically weren’t such a touchy person but something about Zeke leant himself to human contact. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like that. His blonde hair felt like velvet up against your cheek.

“The view is worth it though, right?” he asked, expectantly.

There was a hint of worry, maybe even desperation to his tone. You stared out at the suburbs, which soon gave way to the city. The lights seemed endless, rows and rows of yellow and white pinpricking the darkness. Suburbia was never very attractive in any sense of the word, but he was right. The view was nice; it had been worth it.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad. How was practice?”

He sighed deeply.

“I’m the only person that showed up on time. No one else had their shit together. My catcher was somehow hungover even though it was a Friday afternoon and he’s barely 18. I got a ball thrown at my ass. My thumb feels weird. And my dad forgot to pick me up… Again.”

“Wow. Uh.” You struggled to find words that would console him.

“Sorry. It was not a good day to say the least.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. It sucks when you’re the only one that gives a shit.”

“No, kiddo, I’m sorry.”

“Kiddo?” you said, voice dripping with disdain.

“See! Sorry for calling you kiddo. Look at all the things I have to apologize for.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He gave you a little cat-like smirk. His grey eyes might as well have been sparkling. He knew he was charming. Boys like him were always the most beguiling. They were the ones you needed to keep an eye on, to keep at an arm’s length.

And yet, here you were with him, staring out into a vast expanse of human civilization with barely any space between you two.

“Apologies accepted then. But in all seriousness, I’m sorry your evening was shit. How did you end up getting home?”

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“I walked,” he said, coolly.

“Far?”

He took a long drag and let the smoke drift out of his mouth.

“Few miles.”

“Well, you seem to be o—”

“I had… all my gear. I told him where to meet me. It’s not like he was clueless.”

“I—”

“But of course he tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. His logic was, ‘It wasn’t a game.’ As if the issue was him not witnessing me play.”

You quickly realized he needed someone to merely listen to him. By look on his face you could tell people didn’t tend to lend him an ear when he needed to vent.

Zeke continued. “It’s... One second I convince myself I don’t care. And then the other… I don’t know.”

You desperately wanted to find the words to make him better. You hated to see anyone in such dire straits.

“I’m sorry your dad is such a fuck.”

He guffawed. “Understatement of the year. I wish I could return him.”

A lightbulb went off in your head. “Return to sender.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and mimicked a call. “Hey, grandpa, yeah, it’s Zeke. Can you take Grisha back?”

“He’s broken; it doesn’t father properly,” you snickered.

“Listen, I know he’s your son but he’s worthless.”

“Every day he finds new ways to disappoint everyone.”

“We thought ruining his first marriage would’ve taught him to do better but here we are.”

“Please take back this ugly man you call your son.”

He snorted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s slow down. I do kind of look like him.”

You stared blankly at him. “All the more reason to stand by what I said.”

You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, fuck, kiddo. You’re too much.”

You punched his arm.

“We’re the same age, aren’t we? You have no reason to call me that.”

“It’s ironic. That’s charming, right? You’re into irony.”

You took a good look at him. He was right; you did have an affinity for irony.

“Charming? You? Ha!” you scoffed.

“I’ll have you know I’m a delight. People love me.”

“Psh.”

Again, he was right. He was endearing, easy to talk to. There was a reason everyone at school knew him. The teachers adored him and sang his praises. Girls whispered about him in the locker room. But oddly enough he wasn’t one of the “popular kids”. People talked about Zeke but they never talked to him. They treated him more as an idea, a concept, rather than a person.

“I’m a treat. You will never convince me otherwise.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t bother. It’d be fruitless,” you said.

“So you’re admitting that I’m charming?”

“I guess.”

A smug expression crept upon his face. If you could’ve taken back those two words, you would have.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said in a singsong voice.

Your eyes widened and your face grew warm. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Wow! Look at us! Two charming friends!” you called out nervously.

Idiot. You didn’t want to be friends! You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, call you kiddo even though it annoyed you, kiss you under the fucking stars! You cursed your mouth for betraying you. It crossed your mind to toss out a casual “jk” but you froze.

However the comment didn’t seem to bother Zeke.

“You know I can’t remember the last time someone actually called me their friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. How embarrassing is that.” He adjusted his glasses; clearly a nervous habit.

“I’ve heard more embarrassing things.”

He smiled. “Oh, good.”

“I don’t have many friends either, if it makes you feel better. I mean, other than Pieck I’m a bit of a loner.”

“I know, it never made sense to me.”

Jesus fucking Christ, was he trying to kill you with kindness?

You laughed nervously. “I think people think I’m a bit of bitch or standoffish. I could probably be friendlier.”

“Fuck that.” He lit another cigarette. “Want one?”

You shook your head.

He continued. “Being friendly is overrated. People take advantage of that. Plus you’re hardly bitchy. You just listened to me whine about my daddy issues. You’re a saint if anything.”

Again, he was laying it on thick. Calling you a saint was borderline too much to take.

“You have to stop. I’m gonna die if you keep gassing me up like this.”

He coughed. “Fine. You’re gross. The worst. I never want to see you and your nasty ass again.”

“There we go.”

He leaned his head on your shoulder again. The more you thought about his behavior it became clear he didn’t get much affection, platonic or otherwise. You still had an inkling he had a crush on you. But you decided to focus more on being a friend, someone he could come to. You knew a girlfriend could do those things, but romance seemed trivial. He didn’t need a love interest; he needed a buddy.

You were ripped away from your thoughts as you heard a faint vibration.

“Ugh. It’s my dad.”

Zeke got up and answered his phone.

“What?!” he shouted.

He wandered off. You could hear him arguing in the distance. Part of you wanted to run up and grab his phone and tell his dad off. But that would’ve been absolutely bonkers. You looked out at the view and tried to think about other things.

“Whatever. Bye.”

You heard footsteps behind you and the flicker of a lighter.

“What happened?” you asked; your voice filled with concern.

He stared at you. His grey eyes were lifeless.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with a frown.

“But I had fun. Thanks for hanging out with me. Are you gonna get home okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t live too far from here.”

You both stood in silence, staring at your shoes. Neither of you wanted to go home.

“Can I… escort you home?”

“Sure?”

His eyes lit up and he tossed his lit cigarette into the street. You prayed it didn’t start a fire.

“Cool! Let’s go!”

He picked up his bike and mounted it. You did the same.

“Race down the hill? I know it’s steep, but it’ll be fun,” he said with a goofy, boyish grin.

You usually weren’t reckless as grievous bodily harm was anything but appealing, but you said fuck it.

“Ladies first!” And with that you sped down the hill.

“Cheater!” Zeke shouted as he trailed after you.

Needless to say, you won the race.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager fics #zeke jaeger fics #aot fluff #snk fluff #attack on titan fluff #shingeki no kyojin fluff #zeke yeager fluff #zeke jaeger fluff #aot fics #snk fics #reader insert #x reader #.fics #.aot #.zeke

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burnin0akleaves · 6 months

Text

🍂Happy (early) Halloween! 🐺

Here are the promised Werewolf Treaty drawings that I am completely normal about.

I prefer depictions of werewolves where they are both bipedal and quadrupedal with their anatomy being a mixture of wolf and human parts. That's why his hind legs remain longer and give him a somewhat awkward crouch. While he is bigger than the usual wolf, Will is still pretty small for werewolf standarts.

And yes, his fur remains curly *the audience cheers uncontrollably*

Under the cut for close-ups and some scenarios as to how this would work for those who like to read me ramble.

So, I have three possible AUs where this could work.

1- All rangers are werewolves and the condition is passed down from mentor to apprentice once they're halfway through their training with a bite. No one knows who the first werewolf was, but it's theorized in the Corps that one of the last ones remaining in Araluen made a deal with the king hundreds of years ago.

Pritchard passed it down to Crowley and Halt, eventually Halt passed it down to Gilan and Will and later Will passed it down to Maddie. Rangers get special training to get their curse under control, so they're good at transforming willingly and controlling their animalistic urges.

2- Will gets the curse through a bite on a solo mission, killing what he thought was just an abnormally big and diseased wolf. He doesn't realize what's happening for a long time and has to investigate many unusual dead cattle cases until he realizes something isn't adding up. Once he wakes up covered in sheep blood, he finally puts the pieces together and races to Malcolm. Luckily they find some ancient books in the doctor's collection detailing the condition and Will starts training himself in Grimsdell forest.

He has way less control of his powers in this scenario but he learns to live with it eventually. His close circle knows but they keep it a secret to protect Will. Also he gets a beard way earlier in this AU (and most of these AUs in general) because after weeks of having to shave twice everyday, he gives up.

3- Will's situation is genetic, this would have to be a universe where werewolves are rare but not unheard of. It passed down to him from Daniel, his mother or maybe even both; which explains why they moved frequently and paid attention to covering their tracks. Halt has no idea what kind of life Will can have growing up without parents he can ask for guidance, but he knows that it will be way worse for him to grow up in the ward alone and confused. So he takes Will home in this version of the story.

Not only does he have to raise a child, he also has to raise a beast.

Also for the sake of the general werewolf lore I'll just say that silver isn't lethal until it's inside the body. Werewolf Will is generally a tank against most human made weapons thanks to a second set of thicker skin over his human skin and fur, but his wolf body is very weak against silver. Not only does it cut through his skin like paper, it also stops blood from clotting which could make even the smallest scratches lethal in the wrong place. Will enjoys wearing his silver oakleaf despite the risk because of his personal attachments but he keeps the chain longer so that his risks of choking in an unexpected transformation is lower.

#rangers apprentice #will treaty #🍃 fanart #werewolf au

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i-write-boop-spoops · 1 year

Note

How do you think Leon and Steven react to a singer s/o

No joke, somehow this ask has been in my drafts for over a year, basically done.... so sorry about this anon!

OMG anon you have given me such vivid ideas ok

Naturally, they would both be very in awe of your voice and presence on stage. They would be extremely supportive of you too, trying to attend as many performances of yours as possible.

But that’s not what I find interesting about this, instead I wanted to talk a bit about what kind of singer you are, and how that would affect the relationship.

So with Steven I can totally see you as a lounge singer, you know the sultry elegant kind, dressed in a beautiful sleek dress/suit, performing at a very exclusive club. The moment Steven first laid eyes on you, he was in love, the moment he first heard you sing, his jaw hit the floor. Now, of course, this wasn’t the first time a rich somebody had takena liking to you, your beauty and talent combined with your job often landed you in their lines of sight. But you felt he was different, genuine, quirky, sweet - maybe because your dear friend Wallace had gushed to you about how great he was.

Of course Wallace was also there that night, having invited Steven there to 1. get him to have a little fun and 2. meet you and fall in love, though obviously he didn’t mention the second part. After your performance he insisted to Steven that they both say hi to you, and very quickly he was ignored (the only time he was happy this happened btw), in favour of you and steven just instantly clicking and spending the rest of the evening chatting.

Since you do more lowkey work, despite rubbing elbows with a lot of famous and/or wealthy people, your life is pretty quiet for the most part, which suits both you and steven greatly.

He loves sitting at the front-most table with a drink in hand, smiling this proud, precious little smile that only you know the nature of, mesmerized by your voice and beauty.

And while usually quite humble, he can't help revel in the envy when you turn your admirers down. He loves the chance to swoop in and put a casual, but delicate hand on your back while someone tries to make a move on you.

Also he now supplies you with most of your jewellery. You love wearing pieces that incorporate stones and gems he’s collected for you.

With Leon, I love the idea of a celebrity couple trying to live a private life, like you’re a world-famous superstar singer and Leon’s the fucking unbeatable champion. I imagine a LOT of paparazzi photos of the two of you in the mcu-style baseball-cap-sunglasses disguise trying to grab coffee or something. You two are frequently the subject of gossip-columns and twitter-stan wars.

Wyndon stadium was being used to host one of your sold-out concerts, you arrived the day before, and were practising your choreo on the stage with your back-up dancers. Leon, finishing up at the in-stadium gym for the day, decided to come out to watch, being a fan of you. Being a fan of him too(especially in that tank-top he was wearing 👀), you gladly delighted in his presence, even taught him some of the moves. When you took a break, you got to flirting chatting and swapped numbers. You invited to come to your show the next day, and made sure he got VIP backstage access. The rest as they say, is history.

A plus of the both of you being famous, is that you're used to the spotlight, which means Leon gets to show you off at red carpets, promotional events, after-parties etc. A downside is, you're both very busy, you often tour abroad, but you always try your best to see each other and call everyday.

Not that your love songs were bad before you and Leon starting dating but they got so much more emotional, relatable and memorable after you started seeing the Galar Champ!

You've won best-dressed couple at the Poké-Met gala two years in a row (thanks to your stylist, you can't trust Lee with this kind of stuff).

#ask #ask boopy #steven stone #champion leon #steven stone x reader #champion leon x reader

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autisticgirliesbracket · 1 year

Text

What makes Woo Young-Woo from Extraordinary Attorney Woo the autistic girlie ever of all time? Here's what the people have to say:

Young-Woo-related asks/reblogs: x This post will be updated after each round!

Image ID in alt text and under the readmore.

[Image ID. White slide with a screenshot of Woo Young-Woo, portrayed by Park Eun-bin, wearing her headphones while on the train. She is surrounded by text boxes which read,

"She's canonically autistic, she's one of the only autistic characters on Korean television (possibly THE only, I don't want to speak for all of Korean TV but I know she's a big deal in terms of autistic rep in SK - in-universe she's the first openly autistic lawyer in SK), she's a lawyer and her neurodivergence is frequently presented as a positive in that it means she approaches cases differently than NT people, she has a lot of vocal and movement stims and wears ear protectors on transit, she loves to infodump about whales, her dad makes her the same thing for breakfast every day because he loves and supports her, she has a great love interest who she infodumps to (and they negotiate stuff! like he loves to hear her infodump but he wants to be able to talk to her too and they figure out an amount of infodumping that they're both happy with, which is such a real conversation people need to have sometimes!), SHE HAS A WHOLE MONOLOGUE ABOUT HOW SHITTY ASPERGER WAS, she's just so!!! She doesn't pass as NT at all and I feel like that's so rare for humanized autistic characters, to be recognizable as autistic just immediately, and it's so real for me and I love her so much, Young-Woo's so important to me and I just want everyone to know about her"

"She is literally canonically autistic. I binge watched this show after seeing a few gif sets from my mutuals on Tumblr and I fell in love with her. She's an attorney (as it says in the show title) and even though she isn't very good at talking to people, she's really good at winning her cases because of how observant she is (and her secret autism powers). She didn't speak until she was like 5 or something, and even then, the first thing she said was straight out of her dad's lawbook she had memorized. Her special interest is whales and they somehow help her in literally all of her cases, so good for her. The way her dad treats her sometimes makes me a bit sad, but I guess he's trying his best. He just didn't get any advice on how to treat autistic children, but oh well. At least he tries to be supportive. Like he cooks her safe food for her every day and is so proud of all her accomplishments. She has her daily routines that must not be crossed and she's so real for that. She's also obsessed with palindromes (including her name! :D)"

"Canon autistic queen! Not only is she canonically autistic, but her autism isn't shown to be a deficit or burden! She's also a kickass attorney! She's honestly one of the best representations of an autistic person I've ever seen"

"It's cannon. I almost cried when watching certain moments so... yeah it's pretty nice."

"it's canon. So canon. Like the whole point of the show is that she is on the spectrum. basically everything she does makes me feel like she is exactly who she was written to be."

"IS LITERALLY CANONICALLY AUTISTIC AND I LOVE HER VERY MUCH"

"Canonically autistic. Special interests are law and whales. Memorised this entire book of law at her home before she had ever even uttered a word. Her room is filled with whale related stuff from her alarm to random decor etc etc such her room is the coolest tbh. Wears headphones that play whale sounds instead to avoid sensory overload, echolalia, same breakfast everyday and memorised her route to the office cus routine etc." End ID.]

#autistic girlies bracket #autistic girlie masterpost #Extraordinary Attorney Woo #woo young woo

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pokichusramblings · 10 months

Text

Long post, but abled people really need to hear this. This focuses on ablism. The TLDR is that people’s judgement of disability aid causes actual harm to those who need disability aids.

Please be kind to people who need any sort of mobility aid! Whenever we’re somewhere where we do a lot of walking, I have to constantly pester my partner to use his cane, or else she will simply suffer all fucking day.

I have become very perceptive to their signs of discomfort so I can ask “Hey, babe, do you want to grab your cane?” This usually happens multiple times before he actually retrieves his cane. That is if she ever pulls it out.

Sometimes the only thing that will convince them to use their cane is seeing someone else with a cane.

And before you assume that the days they don’t use his cane are simply “good days.” This is not true. He told me once after a long, fun day at a theme park that at the beginning of the day she was too embarrassed to use her cane, so he let herself suffer. That is until we had to sit down because waiting in a line caused her physical pain. I talked through their worries and slowly convinced them to use their cane. Told them that if anyone did anything judgmental because of her disability, I would fight for his honor (/hj).

I bring this up because so many people take disability aids lightly, or put so much unwanted attention on anyone who uses them. Especially if someone can, for example, walk without their aid but chooses to use it to manage pain (the case for my boyfriend). Even if it is needed, people still focus so much on that that it becomes the only important part of them. It is so embarrassing to use a disability aid in public, because it feels like people are staring at you and judging you.

It is possible to treat disability aids like a normal everyday occurrence, you know. Prescription glasses are, by definition, a disability aid. I need to wear my glasses to drive (by LAW). Reading without my glasses can give me headaches if I don’t give myself frequent breaks. I can’t even watch TV without my glasses. They are a disability aid. But nobody treats it like a tragedy, or stares at me, or points at my glasses, or tries to steal my glasses as a shitty prank, or tells me that I “don’t *really* need them.”

Treat canes like we treat glasses. Treat insulin patches like we treat glasses. Treat wheelchairs like we treat glasses. Treat AACs like we treat glasses. Treat noise-cancelling headphones like we treat glasses. Treat working dogs like we treat glasses. Treat crutches like we treat glasses. Treat hearing aids like we treat glasses.

Do not stare. Do not mock. Do not point. Disabled people are humans like the rest of you.

Be kind.

Edit: reblog and tag any disability focused blogs you know to spread the word. This shit is unfair and I am angry and I want everyone to know how to treat people like my boyfriend like, oh idunno, humans!

#disability #disability pride #glasses #tw ablism #long post #planned ramble #be kind #human #disability aids #mobility aids

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dumborangecat · 7 months

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Fionna and Cake predictions!! !SPOILERS!

(these are heavily based on parts 1 & 2 of my analysis, and reference them frequently so they might not make sense without reading it) (they also may contradict eachother as i have multiple different ideas for what may happen)

Just realised i accidently became the very thing i hated, and called something an ‘analysis’ while most of it is just going over the plot, please take this as a token of apology

1. The vampire universe.

Based on the images we get and the order they come in for the trailer, my guess is that when Simon and the gang arrive in vamp world they get jumped by a group of vampires. Based on the fact we seem to see them in a different place later without any convinient new travel companions it’s likely they make it out without help.

I have 2 ideas for the canon that we see pointed at Simon Fionna and Cake (SFC since i’m too lazy to keep typing all that)

- The canon is manned by a vampire and shoots out either more vamps or maybe even marceline herself. The image we see of her zooming through the air she’s in a very ‘aerodynamic’ pose, with her arms right to her sides and knees entirely unbent, the same pose one would be in if they’d just been shot out of a canon, while the other vampires are very spread out, looking more like cats when they lunge at their prey. This would also explain Simons shock and concern compared to F&C’s more tame ‘oh there’s a canon now’ type look. It would be pretty shocking to see basically your daughter about to be shot out of a canon, directly towards you.

- The canon actually shoots out the garlic bombs we see go off later. This theory also means i’ts likely manned by (probably) Huntress wizard we see later (presumably) shooting at either SFC or the vampires. I think she likely does this because she’s never seen these people before and assumes their either vampires, or just some other threat. This still explains simons shock (sort of) as it’s not everyday you see a garlic bomb canon, and he’s smart enough to realise that probably means their mistaken for a vamp, while fionna and cake have never seen a garlic bomb before and would just be confused.

If if is marcilene coming out of there, that probably won’t go over well when she realises that it’s simon she’s being shot at. We don’t see her simon in the trailer or intro yet, but based on the fact that she’s likely evil here, it’s safe to assume he’s no longer around to teach her proper morals and such. Whether he died, left her, or something else happened, we don’t know yet. But based on which of these 3 happened she’ll have a very different reaction to see simon now. It’s also possible that the crown just made him crazy way earlier, meaning he didn’t have as much time to like, ensure she doesn’t go evil by teacher her stuff like ‘vandalism is bad’ n stuff. If that is true, i think her hearing that there’s a simon out there who isn’t corrupted by the crown but is activly trying to be would royally piss her off.

We only really get shots of (probably) the middle/start of the episode, so there isn’t many clues to the ending but i have a few ideas. (Hopefully) seeing marcy again and likely getting reminded of how the crown hurt her before, would at the very least begin planting the seeds of doubt in Simon’s mind about the crown and if he won’t give it up for himself, he’ll consider giving it up to avoid hurting his friends n family back in ooo. Overall i’m super excited for that episode and the more in-depth look into simon and marcy’s relationship it’ll hopefully give.

2. Weird desert world thing!

Starting off we know this is set post-vampire world because the entire time Fionna is wearing this new green jacket (that honestly reminds me of Magic-woman-betty’s jacket but could just be a coincidence) that she doesn’t have in vamp world.

We get quite a few less shots of this episode sadly, so there’s less to work with, but i do have some thoughts,

Every single image we have in this desert place only has either Fionna, Cake, or BMO. Absolutely no Simon. leading me to believe somethings happened either to him or all 3 of them causing them to be seperated. What? I’m not sure, it’s possible he was captured by the scarab which would by an interesting route to go and (if people are correct about her being scarab’s boss) coukd even lead into Golbetty apearing, or there could just be a mix up and someone in the workd kidnapped him or smth. Either way it looks like he’s MIA for now.

BMO seems to be super importsnt this episode, getting a sort of dramatic-ish reveal but more importantly she has Ice kings secret tapes, and seems to be playing them for F&C. F&C seeing the tapes would no doubt change their perception of both Simon and Ice king, hopefuloy having them realise just how horrible possesing the crown was, but also seeing how Ice king wasn’t actually a fun guy who wrote silly little books but someone who was incredibly sad and lonely. This new perception of the two would hopefully lead them into no longer wanting ice king to put on the crown, and instead trying to find a different way to save their world.

It could also show to fionna that magic and adventures aren’t as fun as they first seem, and maybe push her into accepting her ‘mundane’ and ‘boring’ world as a place she actually does love and enjoy and is okay living in.

3. Simon & Betty (flashback)

we only get 4 images of this and they paint a relatively small picture about what actually happens but they paint one nonetheless

Based of these 4 images, it looks as though Simon and Betty are on a date of sorts. Simon also runs to Betty before she catches the bus to the airport for her trip. The date could happen before or after she doesn’t board the bus, but i think it’s after, not only because it’s a dark photo but i just don’t see how it would fit (narrativly) if it happened first. Basically it seem to be a flashback to the day simon and betty first met, fairly simple.

While i can’t come up with any more then that for the flashback, i do think it’s either something we see right before golbetty, or even during golbetty. possibly like a ‘remeber when we first met, and blah blah blah’ type thing to try and get betty to remember being betty (if she doesn’t in her golb form)

That’s all i can think of, i would add a golb section because of all the forshadowing we get but the foreshadowing isn’t enough to tell me what actually happens with golb so i left that out.

I’ll either look really smart or really stupid once fhe next episodes come out and i can’t wait to find out which

#adventure time #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna campbell #simon petrikov #betty grof #marceline the vampire queen #just realised i’ve been spelling her name wrong this whole time dear god #media analysis #can’t wait to see the wet cat (simon) be put in more situations

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dearestones · 9 months

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Muscle Memory (Azul Ashengrotto and Reader)

Warnings: Exploration of merfolk culture, elaboration on certain aspects of canon lore, etc.

@lottieinlimbo Request: Hi Devin!!! Congratulations on the 750 followers :D!! Your writing is incredible, you have more than earned your success!!!! I’m here to steal the final request slot! There were a lot of cool prompts that would have been fascinating with multiple characters, it was hard to choose! But I’m thinking “why did you help me?” With Azul could be really fun, maybe something platonic? I’m really excited to see what you do with this, congrats again on 750 followers!!

Once upon a time, you desperately wanted to be a child of the sea.

It was a stupid thing to want, you know that now that you’re older, but as a child of a fisherman and a marine biologist, you grew up immersed in the sea. Swimming came as naturally as breathing and there were days when you refused to get out of the water. Your mother would spend hours either cataloging and tending to the wildlife off the shore or lecturing students at your local university. Your father, on the other hand, would board a boat with a few other fishermen and cast his net along the side of their boats, eager to catch fresh fish for dinner and to sell at the local market.

If it were not for the legs that burned under the unforgiving sun, you would have been one of the merfolk. You told your mother so, and she laughed as she hastily scribbled annotations on a particularly bright student’s thesis. It wasn’t a demeaning laugh, it was more like a sound that sought to appease a precocious child like yourself.

“If you were from the sea,” your mother had crooned in your ear, “then I wouldn’t be able to do this, would I?”

She would tuck you deep into her chest before blowing raspberries into your cheek and tousling your hair.

“If you were a mer,” your father had told you, “I would cast nets out everyday so I can take you back home with me.”

He would then throw you into the middle of your bed before gathering the covers and pulling the corners together to make it seem as if you were caught in a net.

You couldn’t be a child of the sea, and even your young, naive mind knew that, so you latched onto the next best thing.

Talking about them.

Both your mother and father, having spent most of their childhood, adolescence, and adulthood living in and around the sea, had tales to tell of meeting merfolk. People who lived on the mainland, you found, had very few encounters with the children of the sea. Sevens, they even said that it was actually more likely for them to meet one of the fair folk visiting from Briar Valley. Your parents and quite a number of the locals had often talked to the children of the sea who inhabited the waters a few miles from the coast, but some of the small fry would frequent the shallow waters, often risking getting beached on shore.

One of your first few encounters with merfolk happened when you were only six years old. You had long since learned how to swim (you learned when you were only nine months and since then, you begged your father to take you out to the beach whenever possible), but you were never left unsupervised. On this particular day, both your parents were free from their duties and had set up a little picnic spot quite away from the tide.

You had recently eaten a snack and because your parents were superstitious, said that you couldn't go swimming until at least thirty minutes had passed. You were six and you had no true grasp of consequences outside of your parents sternly talking to you or taking away privileges as punishment. Because of that, you were toeing the line between the water and hopping in between the craggy rocks that littered the area. You had been forced to wear special swim shoes to keep your feet safe, but even with your short sighted nature, cuts on your feet and punishment from your parents didn't make the idea of disobedience all that appealing.

You skipped down the share, sometimes slipping and tripping into the water, but you always laughed to yourself and waved back at your parents every once in a while. They kept a wary eye on you, but continued to converse in that way only adults could understand and children didn't feel like grasping.

Eventually, you wandered far enough that you couldn't see or even hear your parents anymore. That may have frightened any other child, but you grew up with the sea practically in your backyard and you were taught how to self-rescue since before you could learn how to walk.

You were safe and to a certain extent, your parents trusted you.

As you waded in and out of the water that only reached your ankles, you caught sight of a boulder jutting out of the water. It was several feet away from you, away from the remnants from the stolid presence of the beach and trespassing into the heart of the sea. Normally, with how high the tide can get, the boulder would be submerged, but today, you could see how craggy and sharp it really looked.

So, it startled you when you saw a ruddy face jut out from the other side of the boulder, lock eyes with you for a second, before shrieking and backing away.

Friend?

Was it a friend?

At that moment, you weren't thinking about your parents, if enough time had passed, or if you would look stupid with your shoes still on. When you locked eyes with a child your own age, you could only hope that they would be your friend.

You ran into the water, quickly started swimming once you were deep enough, and swam towards the other side of the boulder.

Would the child still be there?

You swam onto the other side of the boulder until you saw the child, except there was—

"You have a tail!" You could barely hold onto your excitement. It was only due to societal convention that you didn't start tugging and prodding at the brilliant appendage that dangled and swished in front of you.

"And you have legs."

You looked up to find a face both like and unlike your own.

"And it's not just a tail! I've got eight of them!" The child splashed you with one powerful swish of her tails. “And they’re called arms!”

And that's how you met your first friend from the sea.

Shelley was a native from the sea bordering the Land of the Red Dragon. Her family used to live in those warm waters until they decided to migrate towards your stretch of ocean. You were young, so you didn't quite understand what she was talking about when she mentioned migratory patterns, politics, or whatever, but you did latch onto the fact that she was lonely and had a hard time making friends.

So you offered to be her friend.

"With a human?" Shelley scoffed.

Well, sixteen years later and she was still splashing you. Both of you grew up together, often sharing aspirations and dreams with each other. Like the mermaid princess, she dreamed of going up on land and walking on her own pair of legs. It took a while, but she managed to get into an exclusive land boot camp that occurred on another island (you pouted when she told you) and was later given a regular supply of transformation potions once she was old enough to enroll into university.

And that’s when you realized that the both of you could still work together.

You see, over the years, you began to realize that your love of merfolk wasn’t just because you wanted to befriend them, but you also wanted to get to know their culture better. Like the fae, children of the sea were notorious for keeping close to themselves, especially those who spent their formative years in the bathypelagic zones. What most land dwellers knew about their aquatic neighbors were either from the outdated accounts from the famed mermaid princess or the very few merfolk who decided to breach the surface. Most governments wanted to bridge the gap between the vastly different cultures, which meant that they often recruited both merfolk and land dwellers to facilitate and improve upon the land boot camps that were initially started by the very first royal who deemed it worthy to live on land.

You broached the topic cautiously to Shelley when you had been busy helping her walk across the beach after a session at her land boot camp.

It took some convincing, but the both of you decided that you would work together: one day, you would be a physical therapist to help merfolk walk upon land and Shelley would teach classes to acclimate them to land culture.

This year, you were supposed to help merfolk native to the Coral Sea stand and walk for the first time.

This land boot camp you had relocated to was situated on one of the small islands under the Land of Dawning’s jurisdiction. The facility was small and private, owing to the fact that it was still a government project and no one wanted to be ogled at by civilians, especially when they were learning how to be human for the first time.

This batch of merfolk were from the mesopelagic or twilight zone of the ocean, second to the sunny euphotic zone. You had your fair share of merfolk from across all three main zones, but most participants originated from the upper layer, owing to the fact that there was an increase in land dwellers to merfolk interactions. So, it wasn’t a surprise to find less than a dozen merfolk swimming playfully in the water or waiting patiently upon rocks.

After taking the transformation potion (each of them tailored to the specific type of sea dweller because it would be a disaster and a half giving one of the classical looking mers the dosage that would better benefit a mer modeled after an angler fish or a cecaelia), all of them would be given the chance to stand up and walk within the water.

Years ago, when the mermaid princess made her way ashore, it was only through willpower alone that she could heave herself off the sandy beach and trudge her way into her beloved’s castle. Today’s research declared that it was better to treat merfolk with hydrotherapy first by giving them exercises that would acclimate them to using the right muscles and granting them muscle memory that would later aid them in land. The water helped with the sudden pull of gravity while also maintaining a sense of familiarity so as to not cause them undue stress.

(It was also for the same reason it was strictly forbidden that government workers such as your supervisor and by extension, yourself, were not allowed to teach the merfolk how to walk in a pool. The chlorine contact would not cause them undue harm since they now had human skin, but mers were notoriously sensitive to dryness and that wouldn’t exactly be the best impression to make when fostering better relations across races).

The same was said for clothing.

Get the merfolk accustomed to walking first and then clothes.

It was best to get them hurtling one obstacle after another instead of tackling everything human-related at once. After at least one week of hydrotherapy and lessons on human etiquette, the second week would introduce clothing and walking on land. The third week would be full time human-ing, which meant a stronger dose of transformation potion that would last three days before a refill was needed. Finally, during the fourth week, they would be given the full transformation potion and a trip to the mainland where they would tour and interact with the locals as opposed to government agents.

A month shouldn’t be enough time to get merfolk acquainted on land, but the newcomers from the twilight zone were hardy and could take a stronger beating than their neighbors in the higher zones. They already had strong muscles and coordination; they needed only guidance and direction on how to move those muscles properly in a new body.

And so, after you reviewed your roster of attendees, you wore a wetsuit, slathered on sunscreen in copious amounts to stave off the harmful rays of the sun, and then ventured away from the facility on land. Upon first glance, you realized that most of them were young, but you saw that there were at least two middle aged adults and one elderly mer who congregated closer to the front of their younger comrades. Carefully, you studied them; how they moved, how their tails would ripple in the sunlight, and how some of them had teeth made for slicing.

A mixed bag of both predator and prey.

You would have to keep an eye out for any bullying.

Once your supervisor was in position and began detailing the history of the government facility, you carefully tuned her out, content to dig out the tray full of transformation potions from the cooler that one of the other interns had brought out of the lab. Inside, vials of cerulean and silver gleamed within the confines of pale lavender vials. To each of the stoppers, a nametag and species of merfolk was affixed. Indeed, if you remembered correctly, the concentrations of cerulean and silver allowed a brief glimpse of what the potion could do: silver to bind appendages together, turn gills into scarred skin, transform beautiful scales and hides into varying shades of brown and tan; cerulean, to split tails in two, strengthen the bones, and allow for greater lung capacity.

Depending on the type of mer, maybe they needed more of the components that made up cerulean to cut their legs into two. Or maybe they were a species of mer that took after squids or octopi; they needed more silver.

All of the vials were encased in a thin layer of frost: optimal temperature for quick results.

In another cooler, there were another set of vials. For these, all of the dosages were equal.

Pain medication in case some of the merfolk would not be able to take the pain of sloughing away their old bodies for a new one.

(It was rarer for the merfolk native to the deeper zones to ask for the pain medications, but you had seen it happen once or twice. Knowing them, however, and knowing that there were at least a ratio of three predators to one prey, it would be best for everyone involved that no one took the medication).

And underneath the set of pain medication, there was also another tray filled with potions meant for emergencies, but you chose not to dwell on unpleasant possibilities.

Finally, you heard your supervisor call for you and gesture for you to walk across the boardwalk and call out the names of the attendees. Like any roster, it was labeled in alphabetical order. A’s to B’s to C’s and so on. No surprise there.

However, what caught your attention was that the first A on your roster (the only A, actually), belonged to a young male mer. He kept most of his body underwater with only the top of his head and eyes peeking out, but at your behest, he reluctantly began to climb out. It wasn’t until you caught sight of his multiple appendages attached to the bottom of his torso that you realized that you may know his type of species.

A cecaelia.

Out of habit, you counted all eight of his arms—exactly like Shelley!—but you must have been so entranced at the idea of working with another cecaelia because the boy made an irritated grunting noise as he narrowed his eyes at you.

You apologized, slightly bemused by his impatience before giving him the vial that corresponded to his name. You murmured the instructions that he should wait until everyone else received their dose before ingesting it. At that, the cecaelia nodded, resolute and determined in his very reaction, before he ducked below the surface of the water and swam far away from the boardwalk.

After that brief encounter, you continued down the list of names and made sure not to spend too much time mentally cataloging the types of merfolk who were supposed to be your students. There were at least two “classical” merfolk (very human at the torso with a nondescript, but shimmering tail at the bottom), but the rest were clearly descended from various species. You could see an angler fish, a squid, and even twin eels!

Twins!

If you remembered correctly, twins were very rare within the ocean, especially the deeper you went. The fact that there were two adolescent mers who were born at the same time and still lived despite the cruel nature of the ocean, could only spell good luck. Goodness, it didn’t even matter if they were predatory merfolk! You were sure they would be a delight to have under your tutelage.

Finally, after each of the merfolk had received their government mandated potions, your supervisor called you and the other intern to stand in five feet intervals along the boardwalk. You were at the very end of the boardwalk and you were assigned to the first four merfolk along your roster. It was, of course, the cecaelia, but there were also two classical merfolk and an angler fish. The classical merfolk huddled together, giggling as they asked you questions about how long it normally took humans to learn how to walk. Meanwhile, the two other deep sea merfolk were content to keep to themselves, but you noted that the cecaelia was hanging onto your every word.

Now that everyone was in position, your supervisor announced that in each group, only one mer would go at a time. This was to prevent them from drowning all at the same time.

“Okay then!” You clapped your hands to gain all of your students’ attention. “Does anyone want to volunteer? Or would you rather go by alphabetical order?”

During your time as an intern, you were more accustomed to the merfolk who hailed from the euphotic zone. More often than not, the attendees were classical mers who were already aware of land dweller cultures and it showed—they were open and friendly, often clamoring and climbing over each other to be the first. For this particular group, you were disappointed, but not at all surprised to see that your chattier students had instantly quieted and looked to each other in apprehension. Meanwhile, the cecaelia and the angler fish mers looked like they were planning on completely submerging themselves.

You took a deep breath before coming to a decision.

“Mr. Azul… Ashengrotto?” You nodded at the cecaelia, watching as his face seemed to grow from a light lavender gray to a light flushed blue. Nodding at him, you sat upon the boardwalk and beckoned him forward with a kind smile and a wave. “Come here. For safety purposes, I’ll ask that after you drink the transformation potion, you hold onto me or the boardwalk. It will be painful, but the shock will pass once you start kicking your legs. Do you understand?”

The cecaelia, still having yet to speak in your presence, nodded his head.

“Do you remember the demonstration on how to tread water?”

The cecaelia furrowed his brows, perhaps remembering how both your supervisor and fellow intern had jumped into the water earlier that day. They had hung onto the wood of the boardwalk while also slightly kicking underwater to keep themselves upright. Then, they gestured for you to sit to also demonstrate for some of the more nervous mers how to hold onto your arms or legs if they needed someone to further stabilize their movement and offer comfort.

With a decisive nod, he said, "Yes, I do. May I start?"

You said a few more things that were included in protocol just so the entire group under your watch understood the consequences for not taking the exercises seriously, to comply with legal regulations, and to allow each of the mers time to relax and understand that you knew what you were doing. Finally, after about five more minutes, you nodded to the cecaelia.

In your experience, taking any sort of potion was best done by downing the entire thing. It was recommended that the merfolk don't take pauses or take small sips. Transformation was already a tricky process, it would become all the more complicated if you delivered only a small dose of the potion to your body only to take a break for too long and have certain body parts rearranging themselves without the proper dosage. Thankfully, the young mer looked to be the studious type, and above all else, cautious, because once he unstoppered the vial, he returned the seal to you and knocked back the potion as if he were thirsty.

Within seconds, his face contorted in pain and his body began to thrash as his skin began receding from the shimmering lilac and gray undertones to an almost sickly pale coloring. You had assigned spotters earlier in case the mer undertaking the potion were too wracked with pain to come to their senses, so that meant that the angler fish began to restrain the cecaelia while your other students brought both of his hands up to the boardwalk. Under your keen eye, you could see that the skin above his knuckles were bone white and that face was flushing dark blue. You took note of that: scientists were always trying to improve upon the efficacy of their potions, cosmetics being one of the criteria that was often underrepresented.

"Breathe." You kept your voice steady. "Like the breathing exercises," you reminded him. "In through your nose and out through your mouth. Slow and steady."

His thrashing continued, albeit at a more subdued pace. The angler fish and the classical mers watched patiently, but you could see that all of them were transfixed by the sight of their comrade overcoming the pain. Usually, at this point, you would often pinpoint the exact moment a mer would decide to give up and discontinue the program. It was unfortunate, but not everyone was suited to the surface.

If your suspicions were correct, one of the classic mers looked like she was about to be sick while the other two merfolk were eyeing their vials with a scrutinizing gaze.

After giving them a warning glance, to which all of them merely nodded, you focused once more on the cecaelia. His breathing had regulated and the grip he had on the boardwalk was less desperate and more out of desire to seek stability.

You bent down low, murmuring to him so as to not startle him out of how much of a good job he was doing. "Most cecaelia have a hard time adjusting to losing six of their limbs. Can you raise your right arm—" You gestured to your own arm to inform him you meant the human appendage and not what most humans would mistakenly call a tentacle. "—and spread your fingers wide?"

The cecaelia's eyes widened, his lips wobbling. Out of breath and clearly out of his element, he experimentally tried to move... something, but his mind must have been too frazzled other than to cast his gaze downward, clearly at a loss. That was okay. Shelley had felt the same. Both the pain and the shock of losing so much oneself within seconds was hard, but it was even harder trying to control and relearn how to move and be at peace with what you had left.

Another note that you would have to make in the margin of your roster. The cecaelia would need time to adjust. Within a month, that was more than fine. All of the merfolk were permitted time out of their busy schedules to practice and train their muscles.

Reaching behind you, you picked up one of the floating devices that were assigned to you. There were a series of life jackets, buoyancy paddles, and pool noodles. Some mers wanted to get acclimated to wearing human clothing (so they chose the life jackets), others wanted something that was not restraining and had the familiarity of floating driftwood (hence the paddles and noodles).

"Would you like a life jacket?"

Bright blue eyes the color of the calm ocean glared dangerously at you. Had you not had your fair share of predatory mer, you would have found yourself almost scared. However, you could understand the feeling of getting one's pride crushed, even if it was the first time gaining legs. Still, though, such anger seemed simultaneously out of place, yet right at home, on his pale face.

"One of those, please." He concentrated on his right arm, but after realizing that he was still somewhat stuck in his current mindset and still working out the connections, he glanced at the noodles that you kept at your side.

It took some maneuvering and some help from the angler fish (you saw that the cecaelia had a hard time being so close to a predator when he was now human), but you managed to get the pool noodle under his arms so that he could float without any more aid.

Satisfied that he wouldn't recklessly flip over and risk drowning himself, you called out the second name on your list.

It was going to be one long session.

[PART ONE HERE] [PART TWO] [PART THREE] [PART FOUR]

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