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bunnyrhe · 2 years

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Rich Doctor! Kim Seokjin x Ocelot Hybrid Little

Summary: Jin loves to swim with his cub.

Warnings-rich Jin, little space reader, hybrid reader, needy reader, light teasing, caregiver Jin

Jin loved to take swim.

He lived for the rush of the biting cold on his back and shoulders. The water felt like freshly spun silk suavely gliding against his skin. The weightless feeling he got seeing his world turn blue when he dove down to the bottom of the cobalt waters was unparalleled.

That was the main reason he added the pool feature to his penthouse in the sky. Jin had champagne dreams and champagne money to enjoy every furlong of the finer side of life where the grass was greener and the air was cleaner. Afterall, one does not become a cardiothoracic surgeon to not live lavishly.

He lived on the top floor for the view of the blue distant mountains far beyond the dull monochromatic black cityscape. The mountains were serrated, their broken whitecapped peaks and domes shrouded in fine early morning mist. The swirling peach clouds among the mauve sky made a striking contrast . This was nature's palate in perfect juxtaposition.

The early morning sun worked magic on the water,turning it into a thousand glittering sapphires among the grey deck tiles on the veranda. The water subsumed colour from the sky, changing it to an astonishing lilac.

Jin dived deeply into the water, hearing the muffled sloshing as he breached. The dive sent glittering arcs of spray that fell back into the pool. He opened his eyes, seeing a yellow and black striped figure seemingly rippling at the water's edge.

He propelled himself to the surface. He wiped water off his face and blinking the chlorine away. He breathed in deeply, blowing water out of his nose. Even doing the most mundane of things, Jin Iooked fabulous. He flicked his wet hair back, eyes smoky like onyx and focused on you. The water beads rolling off his body creating a glossy polish over him. He was a polished marble Adonis in the first light of day.

He was watching you pacing and meowing at the pool's edge, softly and pathetically calling out for him.He splashed the water invitingly watching you mewl at him, a pair of needy emerald eyes staring at him wanting early morning cuddles. "Come on babygirl! Come swim with Appa! Come on you can do it!"

You shook your head, pawing at the tiles cutely. You wanted him to come to you. "Aish, a wildcat who can't swim." He teased, paddling over to you. His broad shoulders submerging and reappearing to reveal modestly rippling biceps. The long, graceful breast strokes created satisfying swish-swash noises.

Of all the wild, ravishing adventures his lifestyle allowed, his favourite journey was the one that led him to you. He had first met you when you and a handful of exotic tropical hybrids had been brought to the hospital.You had been smuggled in to be sold for your pelt, the ocelot fur had become a rare luxury now with the near extinction of your kind. He'd done a minor repair to your cardiac septum when you were in human form and then he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

You'd shifted back to a tiny ocelot form by the time he'd made post-up rounds the following morning. It scared him when he didn't find you in your bed. He searched the bathroom and the halls before moving to call a security code. Blue was for missing patients but you were so frail and unhealthy you were getting machines from the NICU. If he called pink security would find you faster if they understood the situation. He was hovering over the phone dial when your tail wrapped delicately around his wrist and he swooned.

You were still patched up, a tiny cut over your right eye and bandages down your middle. You were a tiny Ocelot. You weren't an Ocelot,"you're an Oce-little!" He chuckled to himself, clacking the phone down onto the receiver.

You recovered well, getting all your nutrition in the right amount and copius amounts of love and attention. The cardio nurses cooed at your interactions, your happy drawback to your hind legs and the tackling of his stethoscope. You'd pounce on his shoes, and he pretended your blunt teeth and puny claws hurt him and his L.V. loafers.

It broke him to leave you for surgeries, especially as you cried into your pillow waiting for him. You kept thinking he was abandoning you. Jin loved cool rare surgeries, it's what put his name on the map but they were so long. He couldn't put you in the theatre, not his baby. He'd begun leaving you clothes and toys and pictures of him before he left for surgeries.

It was no surprise when he adopted you. There was minimal resistance from authorities once he'd lined pockets enough. He signed some papers to make it official and got same day approval to bring you home.

You'd never left his sight since. Jin insisted that you be carried everywhere, your legs just weren'tstrong enough yet (no cub let Appa take you to the playroom...cub you're just not strong enough let Appa feed his baby...uh uh Cub can sleep with Appa tonight- Appa needs to monitor your heart rate). His cub needed him to carry her around like a baby bundled in blankets or with the stretchy carrier scarf meang for infants. It let him manoeuvre around the home tidying and relaxing while xou were swaddled and wrapped against his chest.

Jin cooked for himself most days, only sending for the Chef on days he worked late. He tried to keep those days to a minimum having read enough literature to tell him key parts of hybrid health was linked to being near their human. The baby carrier was the best investment he made so far. Being without you for long times still drove him crazy, needing go check the cub cams around the apartment every opportunity he got. It mainly was footage of you sleeping in sunshine or rolling around on his pillow but it tided him over till he returned to you.

" Come here, kitten, Appa doesn't want your collar to get wet." He pet your head, scratching the spot between your ears, hearing you purr deeply. You rolled onto your back showing him your tummy which he graciously tickled. He propped up on the edge of the pool letting you play with his fingers, nomming on Appa's fingers softly with your lips.

He knew you were feeling particularly small today, making a mental note to warm some milk for you for breakfast.

He unfastened your collar, setting it on the towels he'd laid out. You licked his nose softly, giving him your version of gentle kisses. Jin laughed squeakily, gloriously happy that his cub could join him. "My turn." He kissed your forehead softly,pulling away to watch you spin around excitedly. Jin cooed softly, eyes beaming down at you.

"My precious cub. I love you baby. Now don't drink the pool water okay?

You sank in slowly, barely making keeping your head above the water and paddling over to Appa. Jin could almost cry from sheer happiness. He cheered for you, swimming over to you then ducking underwater to pick you up close to his chest. "My brave little one! Oh! I'm so proud of you, my cub."

Next part

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hudsonrhine · 7 years

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Yes, she is!

#fear #quotes #boho #bohemian #blush #pink #mauve #fear is a liar #liar #meow #words #motivation #advice

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cythieus · 3 years

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Any Port in a Storm Part I

Peach’s thin fingers leafed through the pages pinned to the clipboard, her eyes scanning the information in each blank and bubble. The lanyard, that she had gotten to fight her bad habit of losing pens, had actually ended up nudging her toward a new propensity to chew on them. She fought the instinct for now and at least she was always sure where the pens were.

She flipped to the front page, her vision tracing a path over the patient name and general information. Slipping the clipboard neatly into the slot at the footboard of the bed, she let the pen drop from her mouth to hang from her neck and dipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. The coat was such a shade of pink that it seemed it might have once been white and was just washed with something red by accident. She never replied to inquiries about whether its color was intended or not.

“Your charts are trending really well, Mr. Meeks,” Peach said. “The swelling has dropped off tremendously and you’re more alert than you were just a few hours ago.” She was sure to flash a smile, but she didn’t let it linger on her face for long. This visit wasn’t all good news.

Meeks replied with words too garbled to mean anything to anyone other than him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke, letting Peach know the desperation behind whatever it was he was trying to get across. It was to be expected that speech would suffer given the severity of the stroke.

“I know that you’ve got a lot of questions,” she said. “I will be here to answer them as soon as things are a little better,” Peach said stepping around to the side of his bed. Her hand touched his forehead and she smoothed back the dark brown hair plastered to his skin.

“I’ll come around and check on you in a bit,” Peach said. It was best not to give exact times, the expectation might of her showing up might upset him and his mind was still foggy. There was no telling if he would be napping when she came back or if he would remember this conversation all that clearly. These first few days were bound to be a haze, but there could be some crucial developments too.

She waved curtly at him before turning to leave the room through the wide, mauve colored door. There was a sink in the center of this wing of the hospital, just across from the nurses station. She washed her hands in it, rolling up the sleeves of her coat to scrub halfway up to her elbows. A small group doctors and nurses passed, walking in a tight group and talking in hushed tones.

The whole world was hushed tones. It had been a sixteen hour shift so far and though there were times where she could take a short rest, most of her time had been spent on her feet. It would be several weeks before there were any relief either.

Absently, she dipped into the on-call room to grab a cup of water and just rest in one of the huge plush chairs. Peach didn’t know exactly when her eyes shut or for how long she was out. If someone had needed her they knew where to check on days like this. That was part of the problem.

“Peaches!”

Daisy’s excited scream was enough to rouse Peach, but not enough for her to open her eyes. Maybe if she pretended to be sleep Daisy would move on or was that bears…

“Wow, you smarmy bitch, I know you hear me,” Daisy said.

Peach could hear Daisy’s footsteps as she crossed the on-call room. The light from the hallway cut through her eye lids, causing a dull pain in the front of her forehead.

“The whole floor can hear you,” Peach said finally, shutting her eyes tighter against the light.

“Heard you were in here.” Daisy was standing right over her now, half-silhouetted by the light pouring in through the door. She wore a loud orange, yellow and white sundress with a frilly skirt and high heels. She always stood out against the beige and white tones that lined the halls of this hospital.

“Are you working today?” Peach asked.

Daisy cracked a little smile, her bronze skin had a luster to it even in the in the darkness of this room. “I’m always working, but no, I’m here seeing Luigi. I’ll be on the road for a bit with this new launch coming up, I might not get to see him for a while.”

“Do you need the room?” Asked Peach.

With a flick of her hand Daisy dismissed the question. “Nah,” she said before she folded her arms over her chest. “If we’re going to screw in this dreary place I’d rather do it in one of the empty rooms in the children’s wing.”

“You’re the worst,” Peach said.

“I know, but the little pictures of parading Goombas and Mushroom people they plaster on the sides of the beds make me smile,” Daisy said.

They had both gone through medical school together. Long before even that they were best friends, in fact Daisy they had known each other since before either of them could talk, but part of the way through their residency Daisy had chosen a different route in the industry: she was a sales rep for Gadd Pharmaceutical. It was her job to travel the region and teach hospital staff about new drugs or update them on treatment options afforded to them by drugs available to them.

Peach yawned, her arms and legs jerking out out so that she could stretch. There was no point trying to get Daisy to filter herself. “Have you found him yet?”

Daisy shook her head. “No, but I saw your little boy toy,” Daisy said giving the front of Peach’s chair a series of rapid kicks.

“Stop it,” Peach said, her fingers pressed against the sides of the bridge of her nose out of sheer frustration.

“He always asks about you and, like, he works in this place with you. How’s that going?” Daisy asked.

“I don’t fraternize like that here--” Peach said.

“—you’re definitely not fraternizing anyone and haven’t for a while. When was the last time you went out?” Daisy asked.

Peach sighed. “Half your job is taking people out and buttering them up,” she said. “It’s different in here.”

“You’re not only in here though, Peach. I might as well buy you a big crate of D-batteries and four weird cats so you can just settle down to be one of those old women who’s only source of sexual tension is the weird bag boy at the grocery store.”

“Hey, my life has sexual tension!” Okay, maybe that was too loud.

“There’s more sexual tension in nursery rhymes without people in them,” Daisy said. She crossed the room and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she produced a small flask from a pocket hidden in the ruffles of her dress and poured a splash in with her coffee. “Talk to Mario. We can go on double dates.”

Daisy took a sip of coffee and then dumped the rest of the flask in. “We’ll be dating twins. Twins that are doctors. We could swap stories about them over mimosas and you can tell me if I’m right about Mario’s crank—“

“—Ew, Daisy no. I don’t—I don’t have time for those things right now.”

“Meow.” Daisy said after another, longer drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Meow,” Daisy said again. “I’m going to meow like a cat when you make excuses for not having a life. I’ll come to your apartment and just slap your stuff off shelves and pee in your shoes too until you get your personal life together.”

“You know I have other friends, right?”

“Sure you do.”

“Luigi and I get along well. And Doctor Bowser is a little, extra, but he seems nice and he always rushes any pathology results when I really need them.”

Daisy laughed. “I wonder why,” she said smiling as she tilted the cup up to her mouth again. “I notice that you’re not mentioning Mario in all of this.”

“Mario and I are…just fine. Why are you so concerned with all of this?” Asked Peach.

“You’re so happy,” Daisy said. “I mean I want you to be happy.” She took another big gulp of coffee. “But you’re happier every time I see you.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I just loved work?” Asked Peach.

Daisy shrugged, her blue eyes fixated down on her cup. “It smells bad here, like all of the time and people…people die,” she whispered the last part.

A little chuckle escaped Peach, she was sure it was not out of crassness, but other than that couldn’t tell where it came from. “The work is very hard. Occasionally I lose a patient or I have a really bad day, but my day is never as bad as the ones these people and their families are going through. And more often than not I get to make sure their day gets better…and that they have more days at all.”

Daisy eyed her for a long enough time that she was able to take several more sips of coffee. “You’re hiding something. I’m just here to let you know Peaches, I’ve known you too long for you to outsmart me for long. Im going to go find my man, you want the rest of this?” Daisy held her coffee cup down to show Peach the bit of dark coffee sloshing around at the bottom.

Peach shook her head. “Can’t drink—I need to be alert; I could use some food. It’s been hours since I’ve eaten anything.”

“I’d love to grab lunch with you, but we’d have to—“

Peach cut her off. “—no, you’re here to see Luigi. I’ll be fine,” Peach said.

“Are you sure?” Asked Daisy as she tossed her cup and the remainder of the coffee and liquor mix into the trash.

With a little smirk plastered on her face, Peach nodded.

Daisy closed the gap between them and reached out to touch Peach’s forehead, her thumb brushing back the flyaway bangs that were too short to make it into Peach’s haphazard bun. Daisy swept a blonde tendril of hair back behind Peach’s ear. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” said Peach.

Daisy bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “See you later, love.”

She was careful to close the patient’s door before starting up, but the entire time Peach kept eye contact with Lemmy. He was one of the newer nurses in this part of the hospital, but he had worked in other places supposedly. She really didn’t know him that well, he hadn’t been around long enough. Peach knew she had to nip this in the bud.

“Why am I seeing that you held my patient down and started a Phenytoin drip?” Peach asked.

Lemmy was an odd looking man, even for a Koopa. He had rainbow colored, dyed hair and his eyes were a little crossed. His arms seemed too long for his body, like he had to bend them awkwardly when he scratched the back of his head. “It’s one of the most common anti-seizure medications.”

“Maybe sixty years ago. It’s never a first choice now and an IV is inadvisable due to the risk of cardiac or local toxicity.” Peach kept her tone even. She didn’t make it a habit of laying into nurses and other hospital staff, but this whole situation rubbed her the wrong way.

“I made the call I thought was best and look, the patient is getting better.”

“They’re getting better because you got lucky. We don’t hope for our luck to hold out in a place like this because when it doesn’t people die. We do our due diligence to make sure that we don’t end up staring down the barrel of a malpractice law suit or, worse, having to tell a family there’s nothing more we could do,” Peach said.

“No disrespect, but you’re being hysterical, Dr. Toadstool,” he said.

Peach brushed the hair out of her face and glanced around to see if the inevitable attention of nearby staff had found them. She pushed her lanyard and stethoscope aside to reveal her identification badge. “Can you read that word right there under my name?”

Lemmy glared down at the badge and then back up at her. He knew what it said before he read it, but had looked anyway. “Neurologist.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought it said too, but I wanted to get your opinion since you’re such an expert.” Peach fumbled with the door charts. “Look, you’ve obviously been at this long enough that you feel you know better than everyone even though I spent more time doing my residency than you’ve been doing this job. Do what you want. And when someone has adverse effects I’ll treat them. When they code I’ll do my best to bring them back, but remember someone won’t always be there to pick up your slack.”

Peach tossed the clipboard back into the slot in the door and trotted off down the hallway, unsure of where she was going. She knew that others would be staring at her now, she had raised her voice just a tiny bit, but she had been here too long and there was no excuse for how that nurse was talking to her, especially not after that.

She thought it might be best to end her day here. Maybe this was the end of her rope; she had been burning the candle at both ends for some time now and the more exhausted she was the more dangerous it became for anyone placed in her care.

One of the break room doors was down the hall was open and she heard the sound of Daisy’s voice before she could even see what was going on inside. She didn’t feel like stopping, but she spotted Daisy and Luigi curled up on the couch together watching the TV, he must have been off. It wasn’t unusual for him to hang around the hospital when he was done.

Peach passed by, heading into the wing opposite her own. As she passed through a set of double doors and the cold air of the next hall washed over her she spotted a familiar face coming her way.

The mustached doctor and Luigi’s brother, Mario. He smiled as he noticed her, but stopped a little ways down the hall in front of the elevator. She strolled up to meet him. “Dr. Toadstool,” he said.

She gave a little nod of acknowledgment. “Dr. Mario.”

“Where are you headed?” He asked.

“Um, this elevator. I think I’m ending shift I’m on,” she said.

“Must be a Hell of a shift, weren’t you starting when I left yesterday?” Mario asked.

Peach chuckled. “It’s possible, my days are kind of blending together,” she said. Then she leaned down and pressed the button on the elevator. “One of us should probably press this.”

“You’re going up?” Mario asked.

Peach glanced up and down the hallway. “Yeah. I mean, you were. We’re having a conversation, so I’m going with you.”

“I mean we were but…” he trailed off. “Your drug rep buddy stopped by my office today.”

“Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, she was mostly cordial.”

The silvery doors of the elevator opened and a soft robotic voice spoke. “Floor three, going up.”

Peach followed Mario into the elevator and when the door shut he asked. “Did you tell her about us?”

“No.”

“Really?” Mario grazed the side of her leg, just below her skirt and her skin went tight and hot. “Why not?” He asked.

She crouched down to his level, resting her back against the metallic elevator wall. Peach clenched his wrist, holding it up and pressed her body to his, their lips almost missing each others in the collision, and his hand trapped between them.

Peach grabbed his necktie, through the top of his coat to pull him closer. He groaned, the sound coming from somewhere in his throat or upper chest. His mustache scratched at her upper lip, but his mouth seemed softer than she remembered each time they did this.

The ride to the tenth floor and Mario’s office was never long enough for anything too exciting, but it still left her in a hazy stupor. When the doors opened the stumbled out of the elevator with hands linked, giggling like school children until they made it to the door of Mario’s private practice.

Mario struggled getting the key into the door and turning it, the lights in the office clicked on automatically when they stepped into the waiting room. The walls were lined with chairs except for the spots where a decorative plant or magazine rack was. Below some of the chairs were baskets with toys for the children. The area seemed much larger at night when no one was there.

“Mind if I take some time to wash my hands?” Peach asked.

Mario shook his head. “Course not.”

Peach slipped the coat down over her shoulders to reveal the plain white button down blouse she wore under it, she tossed the lab coat over a chair and headed for the restroom. Even before she started to wash her hands and the moment the door was closed behind her, the sink was running. The dark sacks of skin puffed up beneath her eyes in the mirror were the true sign that she had reached her limit for the day, she probably had some hours ago.

She rinsed her hands in the warm water, adding soap, and then rinsing them again. Peach splashed some of the water up into her face and dried it off with one of the beige paper towels from the automatic dispenser.

Her gaze met her reflection’s in the mirror. “Mario and I will get there soon, but today’s not the day. Best not to rush these things.” Every secret date and little meet up they managed, this was her mantra. Mario was going to be there, he wasn’t going anywhere and she didn’t see a reason to push things too fast with him. There was a lot of emotion tied up with that part of a relationship. It all seemed like a seriousness that she didn’t want at the moment.

For all of Daisy’s talk of Luigi, things were easier for her just by virtue of being a drug rep. She wasn’t chained to the same building as Luigi, constantly worrying about how every little interaction with him went. She had prep time!

Not that Daisy worried about anything like that—she seemed to drift through life on extremely fortunate luck.

With a small sigh, Peach undid the top button of her blouse and, using a paper towel, turned the knob to open the door. Mario had left the waiting room, but she knew where he would go. She made her way through the hall where his smaller examination rooms were until she reached his office. The first thing that she noticed every time she entered this room was the view, it was overlooking New Donk Medical Plaza, but in the distance was midtown and city hall sparkling like constellation.

Mario was perched on top of his desk with the dull purple of the city lights filtering through the window at his back. It was enough that Peach could make out his eyes, it was enough that she could see in his face what he wanted her to do. She pressed herself into the apex formed by Mario’s legs until the hollow sound made by her knees bumping the desk echoed through the room.

They both had to stifle their laughter, but it was that awkward kind of chortle that snowballed into a more infectious, out of control laugh. The electricity between them had been stretched so taut that Peach heard all of these sounds that weren’t there. At least them laughing covered that up.

The chuckling tapered off until they were standing there staring into each other’s eyes. Peach rested her hands on Mario’s legs, just above his knees. He lifted her chin, stroking the side of her face with his thumb and kissed her cheek. “Do we want to stay here or go somewhere else?”

“We just got here,” Peach said in a very small voice.

His lips brushed against her ear, his mustache ticking the side of her face and catching at the stray tendrils of hair. “But you didn’t eat today, did you?”

How did he know? “No,” Peach said out of breath. “It’s no big deal, I was going to pick something up on the way home.”

“We could pick something up together.” Mario pressed his face into the nape of her neck, sucking at the skin just where her shoulder began to curve up. He fumbled through heir hair, undoing the ribbon that held it up.

“We could.” Her body responded by curling to the side, resting her weight against Mario’s leg as she let out a little gasp.

“It wouldn’t take long.” The words were spoken against her neck, barely audible, but she vibrations of each syllable across her skin was like lightning. “We’ll just—“

Peach spun, locking her lips to his forcefully and pushing her tongue into his mouth. Their chins jabbed at each other as they rocked together against the desk. He groaned so low and so deep that it felt like it was coming from within her. She moved her fingers back through his dark hair, the bits at the front were damp from where he had probably splashed water in his face the way she did.

It didn’t occur to her that her eyes were shut for a while, that they had closed themselves out of habit and all of her senses seemed to meld in to cover the gap. She could smell the dying embers of his cologne, something strong and astringent with a citrus hint. There was a smell just peeking through that one, like an iceberg out of the ocean, it was the smell of clean sweat and just him. His mouth tasted slightly sour, in the natural way anyone’s probably did after being in this place all day. She didn’t mind because it was Mario.

“I had a really, really awful day,” Peach said, pushing her hand into his chest to separate them. Behind him, the sky outside the window had changed. It seemed cloudier, buzzing with a kind of static.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mario asked.

“Not really,” she said. “Come here.”

Across from the office from his desk, set against the wall was a small couch. Peach slipped out of her shoes before folding her legs onto the couch, so that she was sitting on them with her butt rested on her calves. Mario trailed behind sluggishly, pausing before the leather couch when she moved to pat the spot next to her.

“Are you sure?” Mario asked.

Peach leaned out, grabbing his hand and pulling it into her lap. “If you want me to be.”

“I want you to be sure for you—we had that talk before and—“

“And we decided that when the time was right we would know, but let’s be realistic: you want me, right?” She asked.

Mario’s eyes zigzagged along her body tracing a line from her toes, around the bend in her knee and all the way up to her face. “How could I say no, Peach, I—“

Her foot brushing the side of his leg stopped his words, his eyes widened and then Peach was unbuttoning her blouse, slowly revealing a flimsy pink tank top she wore underneath it. Mario watched, his heart beating so loud that she could hear it, could feel it where his hand rested in her lap.

Mario clambered up onto the couch and crawling over her, his hands sunk into the couch on either side of her waist. Her mouth rose to meet his helplessly and Mario’s lips responded by pushing her head against the arm rest, smashing her hair into a knot behind her head.

That little cautious voice in her head was in a veritable screaming panic, but the thundering of her heart and the soft moans drowned out any want she had to stop herself. Peach wasn’t above just going for it and this was a calculated risk.

A flash of light filled the room followed by the tremendous rumble of thunder. Peach caught Mario’s chest with both hands, her nails tracing little lines over his smooth skin. Around and between his nipples. “It would be dangerous for me to drive in this weather—I didn’t even bring an umbrella,” she lied. She always had an umbrella. Any reason to stay like this.

“I guess we’ll just have to stay here.” Peach rocked forward resting her butt on the leather sofa just in front of Mario’s crotch. Her hands trembled with anticipation causing her to fumble with his belt, managing to free the clasp from the puncture holes that held it after a few attempts.

Mario was rigid beneath his slacks, she could feel him when her arm brushed against the bulge beneath the fabric. He twitched sending a positively seismic shiver through her very being. Peach reached through the v-shaped crevice of his unfastened slacks and under the waist band of his boxers to grab his cock. He let out a stuttering sigh and arched his back, pumping against her grasp involuntarily. His skin was so warm and smooth and he glided through her palm.

Peach laughed, biting down softly on her lip and then glancing into Mario’s big blue eyes. “Is this okay?” She said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” he moaned.

“Yeah,” she repeated. “Are my hands too cold?”

Mario shook his head.

A dopey grin stretched over Peach’s face. She pulled his cock up over the waistband of his pants. He was engorged, the skin being stretched so taut had smoothed any wrinkles there might have normally been. It wasn’t like she was some kind of cock connoisseur most of her experience with them recently had been related to her work. Feeling one in this context without latex to separate skin from skin and with it heavy and erect was caused her to think things she’d usually gripe at Daisy about saying.

Peach looked down at it, running her thumb along the gentle, rounded rise of the crown of his cock at an excruciatingly sluggish pace. Mario nails raked at the leather couch when she finally reached the ventral side where a little divot that marked the beginning of the frenulum led her thumb up to the hole in his penis. Mario sucked on his teeth, wincing at the sensation.

“Does it hurt?” She asked.

Mario shook his head.

She thought the better of blowing him. It had been a long time and she was tired. Probably tired enough that she wasn’t thinking clearly, but more so she had been at the hospital over a dozen hours. If she went down on him and he felt compelled to do the same for her—no it was best to keep things simple.

Peach’s hand grazed his face, the stubby hairs dotting his face catch at her skin as she makes small circles around his chin. “So…”

He leaned in to press his lips to her neck. The air conditioner for the area of the building kicks in with a thunderous hum that seems to shake the sofa and drum through their bodies. Everything is so secluded, cut off. They’re in a building with hundreds, maybe thousands of people, but they’re alone.

The second that his fingers touch the inside of her thigh every rational part of Peach is gone. Even with all of the room afforded to them, they stay confined to the couch, fumbling to stay in contact, never not kissing for more than a few moments while trying to strip to the minimally required clothes.

He got her underwear down and she could feel the damp fabric move past her leg. Peach moved to mount him, straddling and pushing him back into the couch. Her pressed against his upper chest, almost in his face. Mario pushed his way inside of her slowly, rising up to meet her body halfway. Peach grunted, her eyes shut against the sensation, but she after a second she began to rock her hips against him.

There was a warm satisfaction in the way that they were grinding together. Why did she wait so long to do this? They rocked together on the couch while the lightning outside erupted into a full fit that lit the darkened room for full seconds at a time. Thunder undercut her soft moans, his desperate grunts.

Mario mouthed something against her ear, and though she couldn’t hear him just the brushing of his lips on her ear exhale her answer, a breathy, “yes.”

He gripped her hips tighter, pulling her down hard onto him as if trying to get every inch of himself to go into her. His breath caught and his teeth nipped at her ear. Peach felt the hot explosion inside as Mario came.

Peach clenched her thighs around him and turned her head against the back of the couch, biting at the leather to muffle her little moans. She hadn’t actually quite come, which was normal. She didn’t typically cum without a lot of lead up or something other than vaginal sex, at the very least.

But then it seemed Mario wasn’t done with her.

He moved from between her legs, leaning against the couch with his left arm and then tugged her upright with him and spinning her so that she was pressing her bare back into his chest. She let out a sharp yelp as his lips touched her neck.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Peach said, holding up a hand as if to steady herself.

Mario wrapped an arm around her thigh, bunching her skirt into knots between her legs and began press against the folds of skin between her legs. Peach’s body jerked forward when he brushed the fabric against her clit. Air caught in her throat as she went to make a sound but was cut short by the surprising intensity of the sensations. He mimicked the motion that had gotten the reaction out of her, massaging with a little more pressure now and pushing the cloth of her skirt against the sensitive area.

He steadied her with his other hand, pulling her back to his chest and cupping her breast.

She tried to encourage what was happening, but the only word she could get out was his name. Something warm and wet and slow dripped down the inside of her thigh. In the kind of brief moment of clarity that can only be recognized in distant hindsight, she thought about what had happened: I let him cum inside me?

That was her last true bit of her self-awareness before Mario’s fingers, wrapped in the textured fabric of her skirt, caused her to melt into him. She was reduced to a moaning mess of jerky hip rocking mixed with sharp yelps.

Despite the embarrassingly small size of the styrofoam cup, Peach still held it with both hands as she swiveled it beneath her nose to take in the aroma. Mario definitely bought better coffee than they had back on her floor. She could tell by the heat against her cheeks that it was still much too hot to drink.

She stared out over the misty morning skyline of New Donk through the huge window in Mario’s office. They slept, naked and bundled up in their discarded clothes on the old leather across from his desk. The blinds had been up and the sun’s light burned across the room into their eyes at its very first chance. What was she thinking? In all her years she had never had sex with anyone from work, especially not at work.

Actually, she hadn’t had sex since she worked here. The length of time since her last relationship slowly dawned on her. Still, things with Mario came so naturally. Through months of courtship leading up to this her heart continued to flutter when he first spoke to her. It had happened when they woke up together.

The door to the office opened and Peach spun around, frightened that they hadn’t locked it and it was some parent and their child coming early seeking medical help, but Mario stepped in with plastic grocery bag dangling from one hand.

“You got them?”

“Yeah. The lock on your locker is a little finicky,” he smiled. “And don’t worry, no one saw me.”

“I would only worry if Daisy was still snooping around,” Peach said before finally taking a drink of her coffee.

He handed her the bag and Peach placed her cup on his desk to open it. She stared down at the bottom to see the fresh pair of scrub pants folded neatly. “Thank you. Pretty sure my skirt can just go in the trash now,” Peach said moving to wrap one arm around him. “Um, sorry about your couch—it must be pretty old.”

“Are you kidding, it’s a leather couch in a pediatricians office, it’s seen some shit. I’ll get some leather wipes and it’ll be fine,” he said. “It was actually already here when I moved into the office.”

“Oh,” Peach said putting a shocked hand to her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have put my mouth on that…”

They both froze before bursting into boisterous laughter that last far too long for what wasn’t even meant to be funny.

“What did you decide to put back on?” Mario asked. “Are you just wearing the coat?”

“No,” Peach said pulling the lab coat open so he could see. “I’m just wearing the blouse beneath the coat and…yeah the coat.”

He hugged her around the waist. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are standing around in just a blouse and lab coat?”

“If you say so…” Peach giggled. “But…don’t start that now, you’ve got appointments—and—and a secretary coming in a half hour. How do you think Shokora will feel about me being in here with my naught bits all exposed?”

“So you have to go?” Mario asked.

“Yes. I need to nap and shower and try to salvage this skirt too.”

While Peach changed into the scrub pants and finished her coffee they chatted some more about mundane things. When it came time for her to go she was insistent that she walk alone.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay walking down to the car yourself?” Mario asked.

“Yes. I usually do it at night. Plus it would ignite rumors.”

He still walked her as far as the elevator, stopping to lean against the doors to hold them open, he checked both ways down the hall before leaning in to kiss her. “Goodbye, Doctor Toadstool.

“Bye, Doctor Mario,” she kissed him on the lips and he stepped back letting the doors close between them.

The moment she was out of sight, Peach jumped up and down with her hands balled into tight little fists at her sides. She wanted to scream or dance, maybe even while screaming, but the elevator dinged and came to a stop for an old woman in a wheel chair to roll in. She nodded at Peach, but said nothing on their ride to the sub level.

The parking garage was bustling with people, more than she was used to seeing. This wasn’t a time when she normally arrived at or left the hospital, which turned out to be lucky for her because most of these people wouldn’t really know her. She opened the back door of her car, throwing the bag of clothes she’d brought down onto the floorboards.

“Peaches!?”

Oh no.

“Peaches? I know goddamn well you hear me. Is that your cute ass in those awful scrubs?” Daisy rushed over and hugged her, pressing her against the side of the car roughly.

“Hey Daisy.” Peach folded her arms around her body to keep the lab coat closed.

“Hey to you too. Since when do you work in the mornings. I mean are you just getting here or…wait what’s that smell?”

“There’s a lot of cars around. It could be a gas or something, you should go tell the guard.”

“No, it smells like sweaty leather and sex,” Daisy said. She sniffed the air, leaning in close to Peach. Peach leaned back in return. “Why do you smell like you’ve been having sex?”

Peach tightened her arms around herself, averting her eyes from Daisy’s gaze, until the phrama-rep reached out and poked her in the sides, just below the ribcage. She used to do this all of the time when they were in school. It was a surefire way to tickle Peach quickly and make her loosen up. The moment Peach’s arms jerked away, Daisy threw open her lab coat and gasped.

“Same shirt, shitty old scrubs! You and Mario?” Daisy asked before twirling in a quick circle like an excited puppy. “You and Mario!”

“This is why I didn’t tell you things had been…progressing,” Peach said.

“That’s not fair. I tell you about all the weird shit I get up to,” Daisy said.

“Yeah, you tell me too much, honestly.”

“Well now you’re going to spill it. We are going for breakfast cocktails right now and you’re going to spill it,” Daisy said latching on to Peach’s arm and closing her car door.

“It’s like seven in the morning and I have to get home,” Peach protested. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Oh please, I’m one of the top sales reps in the country, I make my own hours. Now come on, I know a bar that makes a mean omelette.”

#alternate au #hospital au #super mario #mario bros #princess peach #princess daisy #daisy #peach #mario fandom #mario fan fiction #fan fiction #adult fanfiction #fanfic #mario #mario and luigi #luigi

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- I have no idea where this is going, but its definitely going. Also, just for some supplemental texture--> John’s townhouse Y/n’s apartment)

The Arrangement

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, some angst, John being kind of an asshole.

Sweet Surrender

John leaned back in the dark leather chair positioned behind his mahogany desk, his elbows propped on the upholstered arm rests and his fingers touching at the tips. Besides work, there was a lot of his mind, most of it having to do with Y/n. They weren't his usual thoughts of her though, these were troubling. Something had changed with her and lately, he had been starting to sense that she was unhappy. Y/n hadn’t out-rightly said so, but it was in the little things; she’d stopped offering him details on the life she lived outside of their shared moments and all in all, she wasn’t her typical light, carefree self.

In the beginning, it was Y/n’s bubbly personality that had attracted him, enthralling him. Before, he’d usually find his women via other means, there had only been a few others and they were all nice enough, good at following orders and fun in bed. But nonetheless, Y/n was certainly his favorite, upon meeting her, John could easily tell that she was a natural submissive and wasn’t thoughtless like those gone by. She didn’t take her role in his life lightly either, and John cared for her in a way that he hadn’t for anyone one else. Which was why it stung to think that he wasn’t doing right by her, their arrangement was supposed to bring them both pleasure, but if he wasn’t doing that for her, then half the purpose was lost. He wondered what had caused her discontent, up until then, he figured that he had been good to Y/n, he took care of her needs; sexual, financial and otherwise, he tried to listen when she needed an ear and always respected her boundaries.

He’d have to bring it up soon, John wasn’t afraid of addressing it, besides, it was nearing the eleventh month of their first contract, they’d have to discuss whether or not they wanted to renew it or not. Usually, John never renewed them, by the end of the year, he'd often find himself yearning for a fresh face, letting his latest attraction go like dust on wind, but that year it was different and he couldn’t see himself growing tired of Y/n in the foreseeable future. John knew what he wanted, the final decision would have to be Y/n’s.

“Mr. Wick?” his secretary poked her little brunette head into his office, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts. With a hum and annoyance expertly kept at bay, he glanced up, meeting a pair of clear green eyes. Abigail was just a few years older than Y/n and had been his secretary for going on three years. He could never tell what her angle was though, with all the tight shirts and short skirts, sure she was pretty enough, but it was the kind of beauty John could see himself getting bored of quickly. She didn’t really have much of a defining personality either, very two dimensional and he suspected that she didn’t have much more depth than she offered at face value. She was nothing like Y/n who was intelligent and exciting. “Your one o’clock is here,” even after she delivered her message, Abigail stayed there, still holding the door open.

With a quiet sigh, John sat up straighter, slowly moving to stand, “Is that all Abigail?” He didn’t even spare a minute to look at her, though, he could feel her eyes on him. When she offered a meek yes, finally turning to walk away, he called her back, just remembering something, “Did you finish the draft I asked you to work on?”

After a moment of hesitation, and shuffling her feet childishly, “No, Mr. Wick, I haven’t-”

“How the fuck am I supposed to start the deposition on Monday without it?” He snarled, glaring at her; John absolutely hated excuses, especially when he could tell they were going to be baseless. Alarmed, Abigail jumped, her face going pale and her eyes glassy. Apologizing profusely, she cast her gaze to the shiny marble floor, but John was too irritated to care. He’d have fired her right on the spot, but he needed someone working his receptionist’s station and for that draft to be finished by the end of the day. So, he’d spare her, for now. “Just….get it done by five,” he’d wanted to leave by four thirty to get ready for dinner later that evening, but he’d spare Abigail the half hour, “And get the hell out of my office.” Without another world, Abigail scurried out and John finished gathering his materials, almost ready to head to the elevator when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was a text from Y/n, and despite himself, he smiled, she never ceased to brighten his day a little. She had sent a picture of the dress she’d purchased for the night, per his request; a short, dusty mauve, chiffon one with a cowl neck and thin straps at the shoulders. Directly below that picture was another of strappy nude stilettos with thin five inch heels, John adored seeing her in high heels, especially those pencil thin, dangerous looking ones. The attachments were followed up by a simple question, “Are these okay?”

John moistened his lips, already able to picture how the outfit would look on Y/n, definitely good enough for him to want to keep her in the bedroom. She had a wonderful sense of style and normally looked good in anything. Usually, John preferred to be there when she shopped, ensuring that she wasn’t worrying about prices and that things like lingerie were suited to his tastes, but in the event that he was unavailable, John had found that she was fine on her own. “Those are perfect,” he sent the text, locking his phone and heading out of his office to the conference room.

John detested Y/n’s apartment. It was small, no, small would be an understatement, it was tiny and if he’d had his way when they were first checking places out for her, John would have seen that she’d gotten something bigger. But, he was deep in lust and Y/n hadn’t been happy with any of the other that the real estate agent took them to. In fact, it had taken almost a month for her to find that place in New York City and, when they had gone to see it, Y/n had instantly fallen in love with the quaint, cool-toned, vintage styled apartment with beige and mellow blue walls, light hardwood floors and white wooden doors that were intentionally made to look faded and unfinished. The decorator that John had hired kept with the natural vintage theme too, adding an old fashioned farm sink, a charming mix of stained marble and tiles on the kitchen counter, homely rugs and even a 1950’s refrigerator solely for aesthetic purposes. Thankfully, the running fridge was integrated and actually from their century.

As time passed, Y/n had also ensured that her love for houseplants were reflected in her decor too. She had one in every room, always watered and tended to, some growing cheerful flowers while others just maintained a healthy greenness.

Before Y/n had moved in, John had been sure to ask her well over three times if she was sure about her decision, and each time she’d assured him that she was. Y/n had eventually explained that if she lived in something bigger she wouldn’t have a clue on what to do with the extra space, it was just her and Theo anyway.

John stood at Y/n’s door for a minute, searching for her key on his bunch, casually looking up and down the hall. Thankfully, the neighborhood and by extension, the building, was a nice one. Upon finding the right key, John slipped it into the lock, turning twice. As he entered Y/n’s apartment, John called out to her, though, before she could answer, he felt a gentle rubbing on his leg; Theo.

Chuckling, he bent, scooping up the grey Scottish fold. John held the cat to his chest, absently running his fingers affectionately on his soft head, “Where’s your mom?” He asked, already walking towards the living room, earning himself a meow.

“Oh,” Y/n was just hurrying out from the other side of the living room, barefoot and still in her silk lilac robe, though her hair and make up was already done, “John,” her eyes went wide and she looked down in embarrassment, clearly alarmed, “I’m so sorry, I must have heard the time wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured sternly, “I’m early, don’t worry about it,” he waved off her worry, still holding Theo in his arms. John had never been a cat person, but Y/n’s four year old rescue had taken a liking to him upon their first meeting and John at some point, the furry fella had grown on him.

“Thank you,” she smiled lightly and John offered a faint smile of his own in return, “Theo!” Y/n scolded just realizing that he was in John’s arms, “You’re gonna get cat hair all over John.”

“It’s okay, he just wants a little attention,” John sat himself on her olive colored living room sofa, the length of his legs exaggerated by how low it was, “Go finish getting ready,” he urged and after a brisk nod of compliance, Y/n hurried off again.

John’s hand was low on Y/n’s back as they followed the hostess to their party’s table in the high end French restaurant. Their table was near an elaborate indoor fountain, beneath a glittering chandelier and as they approached, Y/n could see that a middle aged couple was already seated with a round of drinks. Putting on her best smile, she waited for John to introduce her before offering her hand, “Ellis, Lauren, this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” Her breath hitched excitedly at the word, even if that was the way John always introduced her, it wasn’t like he went around telling people that he had an, by all intents and purposes, a paid for fuck doll. Still, it was enough to feed her hope that one day, maybe in the distant future, he could actually see her as that, as his girlfriend, that the word wouldn’t just be a cover.

“It’s nice to meet you,” after a moment of bewilderment and obvious hesitation, they took turns shaking her delicate hand, and Y/n did her best to maintain her trained smile; she was used to dealing with snobs anyway.

Even as they introduced themselves; Lauren and Ellis Capeldai, Y/n could see they were judging her; a girl her age, with a nearly middle aged, rich, powerful man? In their minds, Y/n could only be one thing. But alas, she was used to it, and if John had taught her anything, it was that opinions didn’t matter, they were consenting adults, and whatever they did with their personal lives was no one’s but their business.

John pulled out her chair and just as Y/n sat, John did too, immediately engaging conversation with Ellis. They glazed over small talk for a couple minutes, before getting into the specifics of a case; the Capeldais’ owned a private clinic in the city and had recently had a malpractice suit brought against them. Quietly, from her position next to John, she tried to keep up with their conversation, though, she only knew that much when it came to legal and medical jargon; an English degree could only take you that far in certain directions. In fact, the only thing she could deduce was that someone’s relative had died and that John was positive that he could prove that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the dead patient’s.

Eventually, it came to the point where the more they spoke, the less Y/n wanted to hear. There was a dirty side to John’s job, or maybe it was just John himself, though Y/n could never bring herself to see him like that, so she blamed it on the trade instead. He was always willing to go the extra mile, or twenty, for his clients, just to make sure that they won, even going those miles meant getting his hands dirty. It was rare for Y/n to see that side of him, the side that he showed clients, that was ruthless and capable of anything in the name of victory and though John’s power and confidence enthralled her, it also scared her.

If he was like that, what else could he be?

Slowly, Y/n retreated into herself, no longer paying any mind to how their conversation unfolded. Working on autopilot, she steered her gaze to the plate before her, using her fork to shift around what was left of her entree, punctuating her movements with the occasional sip of Pinot Noir. Y/n sunk into her own little world until John’s grip held firm on her exposed thigh, his warm breath fanning her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “It’s rude to play with you food darling.” His gravely drawl sent shivers up his spine, “You don’t want to ruin our night by being punished, do you?”

Hastily, Y/n shifted her dilated gaze to meet John’s whiskey pools, the new rosiness in her cheeks brightening her sparsely applied blush, evident to those that sat across from them, “No sir,” she cast her head down out of instinct, “I’m sorry.”

Surely, the Capeldais’ were spectating with intrigue, though, thankfully not hearing a word of John and Y/n’s exchange. “It’s okay,” his rough fingers inched higher, sneaking beneath the hem of Y/n’s dress, “But don’t do it again,” he warned, covering his tracks with a peck on her cheek.

Even when John redirected his attention to his food, his hand still lingered on her upper thigh, slowly working its way further up, his feather light touch ticklish and reflecting in the pooling moisture in her panties. “So Y/n, dear,” Lauren turned to Y/n, her distaste masked under a stiff smile, “What do you do when you’re not being wined and dined by Mr. Wick?” There was malice in her words, Lauren had apparently decided that Y/n was nothing but a gold digger or something of the sort.

For a moment, Y/n glanced towards John, who cleared his throat loudly, thankfully, opting to answer for her, “Y/n works at a bank, you probably know it; Fraser Holdings,” John gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, and by then, his fingers were close enough to brush her crotch, “It’s where we met actually, I had some business there and she caught my eye.” John was a master of controlling narrative Y/n knew that every word of his explanation was chosen carefully, with the intention of carrying an air of vagueness. Y/n wasn’t ashamed of her job as a secretary, it paid the bills, at least, it used to, and she knew that John probably wasn’t either, but some people just weren’t worth the whole truth.

“Oh,” Lauren's stiff, condescending smile was apparently permanently plastered to her no doubt Botox infused face, and her nosiness was proving to be relentless, “And how long have you two been dating?” At the question, the graying Mr. Capadali looked up, he too was intrigued by the question.

Just as the query hit the ear, John’s stocky index brushed her lace clad folds. Caught off guard, Y/n jumped, her eyes going wide and breathing an alarmed gasp, her knee made painful contact with the bottom of the table as she crossed her legs, only serving to squeeze John’s hand in place. Again, she looked to him, but that time, he indicated for her to take the question, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, his trimmed scruff hiding it almost perfectly. “Um…” her words wavered as he rubbed gently, just barely grazing her nub with his pointer, the lace of her panties adding extra, effective friction. “We’ve been together for about a year.”

A slight tugging on Y/n’s thigh was enough of an instruction for her to uncross her legs, parting them slightly. Under the security of the pristine white tablecloth, John pushed aside the crotch of her panties, rubbing Y/n’s cilt slowly with the ‘v’ of his index and middle fingers. Once again startled, she glanced his way, but he merely offered. Her swollen bud throbbed beneath his expert touch and Y/n had to hide the moan that threatened to escape her matted-burgundy painted lips with a lengthy drag of her wine. Her breath shuddered as she set the glass down, quickly looking to John, who'd already rekindled conversation with the older couple, seemingly unaffected by her plight.

Her eyes stayed trained on his side profile though her attention waned; John's handsome features blurring as her orbs glazed over with desire. By then, it wasn't hard to identify the distinct pink hue standing out on her otherwise flushed cheeks and the absence of focus was blatant. The more prolonged John's ministrations became, the closer Y/n got to her tipping point. Just out of the corner of her faulty vision, Y/n could see when John carelessly let the fabric napkin fall over his hardened crotch, the creases and haphazardness of the eggshell material masking his hard on.

Another hitch of her breath came when one of John’s fingers slid further into her drenched heat, her posture, maybe thankfully, not allowing him access to her entrance. Though, John had a solution for everything, no mind how harsh or abrupt it may be, “Well, Ellis, Lauren,” he cleared his throat, pretending to check his watch. A waiter had just cleared their plates and had promised to be back soon with a desert menu, “I think we’ve covered a lot tonight, but Y/n and I have an early start tomorrow,” for the first time in a while, he removed his fingers, dragging them along her inner thigh, messily spreading her slickness. Now hot, bothered and still in the middle of a packed restaurant, Y/n could quickly feel herself growing frustrated at the loss of contact, ready to grab her clutch off its resting place on the table as John signaled a waiter, handing over a business card and requesting that the final bill be sent to his office. Y/n doubted that it was something the establishment regularly did, but there wasn’t a soul willing to deny John Wick. Besides, if he said he was going to pay, there wasn’t a bit of doubt that he wouldn’t. John was a man of his word.

After they’d bid their companions goodnight and safe travels, John led Y/n out of the restaurant, holding onto her into her light petite coat as the valet brought around his navy Maserati, the dark coat shining even in their dimmed surroundings. John, as Y/n had learnt, was quite the car enthusiast and he’d collected quite a few over the years, enough to supply a small dealership, with almost everything from prized, classic muscle cars and widely adored classics to flashy sports cars and of course, some more sophisticated ones.

After they’d gotten in, John had tossed her coat to the back seat and then peeled away from the curb, navigating the car onto the busy street, easily weaving through the thinning traffic. Stealing a glace, Y/n found that John’s expression wasn’t readily readable, though, when, not too long after they’d left, he turned into a deserted, poorly lit, damp alleyway between a shady Chinese restaurant and a low grade department store, she got a pretty clear idea of he wanted. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look in that dress babygirl?” His question strained and mumbled as John undid his seat belt and used the lever beneath his seat to push it back a little. Excitement had Y/n breathing heavily, and she didn’t think to answer his question. “Didn’t I ask you something?” He probed roughly, undoing the belt, button and zipper on his black slacks.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, blushing and blinking quickly, her stomach fluttered when John reached over to undo her seat belt, easily manhandling her over the console and into his lap.

“Well let me show you,” he grunted, grabbing her hand and shoving into his undone pants, over his erection, gasping quietly at the distinct firmness overtaking his member, “See what you do to me? This is all you baby,” he whispered harshly, catching her ear lobe between his teeth.

The alluring aroma of fine wine and musky cologne clouded her senses and Y/n’s breath hitch, the sound quiet, and pitched. “Sir,” she moaned, eyes wide and pupils lust blown as her hand lingered in John’s pants long after he’d stopped applying pressure.

John trailed feverish kisses down the column of her neck, high on the scent of her perfume, occasionally alternating between lapping his tongue over her vein and nibbling her skin. He was definitely going to leave marks, claiming her as his own. As his mouth ravaged her throat, John fiddled with the thin straps of her dress, letting them slip carelessly down the curve of her shoulders, eventually urging her arms out of them and pushing the top down, exposing her breasts, pushed together enticingly by a simple, cream colored strapless bra. “I want you to ride my cock,” John’s fingers slid up her body, thumbs brushing the smooth, stain covered padding over her nipples, before easily undoing the front clasp and freeing her full, voluptuous breasts, “Now,” he growled, pushing aside the crotch of her flimsy thong, his digits brushing the lips of her swollen, soaked pussy.

With anxious hands, Y/n helped John shove his pants down to the area right above his knees, “Come on,” he slouched further into the leather stead in an instant, John’s hands were up her dress, holding her hips in place as she eased down on him. Feeling how he bottomed out inside her, stretching her tightness so wide it burned, Y/n’s head lolled back, squeezing her eyes shut as her loud moan bounced off the windows. “Move, now,” he managed through his clenched jaw after he’d given Y/n a minute to adjust.

Desperate, filthy mewls swirled in the heavy air around them, joining John’s languid grunts as his hips rose to meet hers. Each time Y/n came down on him, her bouncing erratic and harsh, her core slapped his balls, rendering loud, wet, perverted sounds. “Sir,” her breathy cries were the only interruptions of her heady noises.

"Fuck," John hissed, just before taking one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around her pebbled nipple and one hand sliding up her back, pressing her chest to his face, "Faster," he urged.

Y/n's eager hands slid up John's chest, the material of his grey button up smooth under her palm, his carnal heat seeping through. She settled them beneath the lapels of his tailored, black blazer, bunching the fabric up in her fingers as she quickened her pace with renewed vigor.

The tinted windows around them fogged over and the purring of the engine fell on deaf ears. John could feel her nails digging into his skin, even through his shirt and the throbbing veins running up his shaft offered Y/n an irresistible friction. Every time she came up, only to sink back down on him, John’s swollen tip reaching her end, Y/n could feel herself drawing closer to the edge. “Please,” she whimpered, pleading for John to permit her release.

John’s hips jerked upwards to slam into Y/n’s center, the remaining hand caught under her dress now aggressively squeezing and kneading her ass. The other violently grabbed a fistful of her head, rearing her head further back so John could ravish her neck without resistance, “Do it,” he commanded between skin pulling bites, “I want to feel your cunt squeezing my cock. You’re my little bitch and I need to feel you cum.”

Before long, Y/n was shuddering; her legs straddling John stiffening and her pussy convulsing as warm juices gushed from her center. Her gasps were broken and her breaths ragged as Y/n’s eyes rolled back and her hold on John’s now wrinkled shirt loosened. With a slackened jaw, the rest of her body went limp and John was the one still moving, though, his thrusts rigid.

The feeling of Y/n milking his cock entwined by the ecstasy that always accompanied being buried deep inside her was pleasurably unmatched and soon, John was following her to release, “Fuck Y/n,” he sputtered, slowing his movement as he spurted bursts of hot seed inside of her, their products mixing as it seeped out, coating Y/n’s thighs and dripping onto his.

It took awhile for their breaths to slow and for any sense of coherence to make its way back into the stilling running car, and even after; they lingered, John’s now flaccid cock still cocooned in her settled center. When he finally guided her off him, John used tissues from the glove compartment to clean Y/n up as she still sat in his lap, and she let him readjust her dress, forgoing her bra, instead just pulling the straps over her arms. When he set her back in the passenger seat, Y/n winced, though she wasn’t half as sore as she’d usually be after sessions with John, when he had more room and time to work with. In fact, hot, spontaneous moments like that one were rare, which arguably only made them more enjoyable.

Except, that night, as Y/n silently watched John clean himself up, his expression stoic, as it typically was, she couldn’t help but feel a little dirty, and not just in a physical way. That dinner hadn’t been her best one with him, she didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him as the villain, willing to desecrate the name of a dead man. Logically, she knew that it was the job, and someone had to do it, but being that good at it? It took guts and a certain kind of coldness that frightened her.

And then, of course, there was the typical issue of their otherwise unattached status. Because, as scary as John was when he was in his element, she still found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, which wasn’t exactly ideal, considering the more she fell, the more it hurt when she remembered that she was just his sub. It was confusing, but mostly it hurt.

The drive back to Y/n’s place was without conversation, though, when John parked on the curb and Y/n had gathered her stuff, namely her purse with generous bits of her bra sticking out the top and her coat draped over it, John grabbed her leg before she could get out, “Do you have vacation days?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, intrigued though not daring to say anything further.

“How many?” John’s eyes were void of anything telling and he wasn’t going to give her more without Y/n’s compliance.

“A month.”

“Good,” John reclaimed his hand, immediately fishing his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and his fingers going to dance on the unlocked, brightened screen. He didn’t look at her again, leaving her bewildered as he came out and jogged to her side, opening the door for her. John helped her out of the car, and with a hand low on her back, he walked to the front double doors of the building, holding one side open but making no move to go in himself. “I want you to take two weeks,” he said, putting his cell away, “I’m taking you to a summer home in North Carolina. Abigail will book a jet for Sunday afternoon, call your boss and tell him you won’t be in on Monday,” and before Y/n could protest that she actually needed to give H.R. a month’s notice, John intervened, “If he gives you any trouble, let me know and I'll talk to him, okay?” By ‘talk to him’, it was quite possible that he meant bullying her boss into giving her the time off without consequence.

“Yes,” her lips quivered in surprise, and Y/n nodded again, “Okay.”

“Okay,” John repeated, stiffly reaching across to peck the side of her lips, “I’ll send you the flight details, and I’ll taking you shopping tomorrow afternoon,” when Y/n agreed, they exchanged pleasant good-nights and John finally let Y/n go, secretly hoping that their trip would do them both some good in terms of their upcoming discussion.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves

#keanu reeves #john wick #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #ff #fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #au #the arrangement #sweet surrender #fanfiction #john wick au

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tinkonka · 3 years

Note

Periwinkle, mauve, blush, fuchsia, lavender, saffron, timberwolf, fallow, viridian, chartreuse, burgendy . U are the poor little meow meow to my silly rabbit <3

YEAHH<33 YEAHH SO FUCKN TRUE EGYG<3 I LOVE U /P

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thedoctorcried · 3 years

Text

Runaway - Part Twelve

~Masterlist~

Concept: Hazel Richards is a twenty-year-old woman living in London. When she meets a mysterious time-travelling alien known only as the Hunter, she’s thrust into a world of wonder she could only have imagined.

Warnings: swearing, follows S1 of Doctor Who.

The Hunter looked up as the TARDIS took on a purplish tinge, the cloister bell tolling in the distance. She gently settled Hazel on her bed, then left as quietly as she could to find out what was going on.

By the time Hazel appeared in the console room, having changed her clothes, the Hunter was chasing a small spacecraft, making the ship tilt dangerously. "What's the emergency?" the human girl asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes with one hand as she held onto the console with the other.

"It's mauve," the Hunter replied, her eyes flickering over before returning to the screen she was watching to make some small adjustments to her flying.

"Mauve?" Hazel echoed, frowning.

"The universally recognised colour for danger," the Hunter told her, like it was obvious.

Hazel raised her eyebrows. "What happened to red?"

The Hunter snorted. "That's just humans. By everyone else's standards, red's camp." She stopped flitting around the console for a moment, grinning nostalgically. "Oh, the misunderstandings. All those red alerts, all that dancing." She noticed Hazel looking at the ship they were chasing on the monitor. "It's got a very basic flight computer. I've hacked in, slaved the TARDIS. Where it goes, we go."

"And that's safe, is it?" Hazel checked.

"Totally," the Hunter assured her, then winced as something exploded on the console near her. "Okay, reasonably. I forgot to say reasonably." She was distracted by what she was seeing on the monitor. "Oh no you don't! It's jumping time tracks, getting away from us!"

"What exactly is this thing?" Hazel asked, shouting over the engines as the Hunter attempted to get closer to the ship.

"No idea," the Time Lady replied, shrugging.

"Then why are we chasing it?"

"It's mauve and dangerous, and about thirty seconds from the centre of London," the Hunter replied, grinning as she threw the dematerialisation lever.

***

Hazel stepped out into a dark alleyway between two terraces of crowded housing. The Hunter was right behind her, locking the door to the TARDIS. She looked around and snorted. "Do know how long you can knock around space without happening to bump into Earth?"

"Five days?" Hazel guessed. "Or is that just when we're out of milk?"

The Hunter shook her head fondly. "Must have come down somewhere quite close. Within a mile, anyway. And it can't have been more than a few weeks ago. Maybe a month."

"A month?" Hazel echoed, frowning. "We were right behind it."

"It was jumping time tracks all over the place," the Hunter protested. "We're bound to be a little bit out. Do you want to drive?!"

Hazel grinned cheekily. "Wouldn't mind, actually." She laughed as the Hunter blinked, pulling her coat tighter around her. "What's the plan, then? Are you going to do a scan for alien tech or something?"

The Hunter snorted. "Haze, it hit the middle of London with a very loud bang. I'm going to ask." She showed Hazel her psychic paper ID for the occasion.

"Dr Art Smith, Ministry of Asteroids?" Hazel read, raising her eyebrows.

"Yep," the Hunter nodded as they came up to a door marked 'Deliveries Only'.

"Not very Spock, is it, just asking," Hazel pointed out.

"Haze, it's a piece of paper that reads your mind," the Hunter cocked an eyebrow. "Door, music, people. What do you think?"

"I think you should do a scan for alien tech," Hazel told her matter-of-factly. "Give me some Spock, for once. Would it kill you?"

The Hunter rolled her eyes, opening the door with her sonic screwdriver, then eyed her friend's Union Flag top. "Are you sure about that t-shirt?"

Hazel looked down at it, making a face. "Too early to say. I'm taking it out for a spin."

"Huh. Well, come on, if you're coming. It won't take a minute," the Hunter shrugged, going inside the club.

"Mummy?" Hazel blinked, about to follow her friend in. "Mummy?" She turned around, walking a little ways away from the building and looked around, before seeing a little boy wearing a gas mask on a nearby roof. "Art? Artie? There's a kid up there!"

***

The Hunter followed a waiter through a bead curtain to the main room of the club, where a saxophonist and a jazz band were accompanying a woman in a long red dress.

***

"Are you all right up there?" Hazel called. The child turned in her direction, not moving from the roof.

"Mummy?"

Hazel swore, then saw a metal fire escape and started to climb.

***

When the singer finished, the Hunter clapped with everyone else, then took her place at the microphone. "Excuse me. Excuse me. Could I have everybody's attention, just for a minute? I'll be quick. Hello!" She grinned as the audience focused on her. "Might seem like a bit of a stupid question, but has anything fallen from the sky recently?"

The audience stared at her with varying expressions of confusion, then burst out laughing. She narrowed her eyes.

***

Hazel reached the top of the fire escape where it came out on a flat roof. The child was further up, on a taller, triangular roof. "Mummy?"

"Okay, hang on," Hazel called. "Don't move!" She bit her lip, looking up at the other roof. How the hell was she supposed to get up there? Suddenly, a rope dangled down in front of her. She shrugged, testing it.

***

"Sorry, have I said something funny?" the Hunter asked, frowning at the laughing crowd. This was decidedly not the reaction she had been expecting. "It's just, there's this thing that I need to find. Would've fallen from the sky a couple of days ago."

The laughter was cut off by a loud, familiar-sounding siren. Everyone became silent, bustling around to grab their possessions and leave.

"Would've landed quite near here," the Hunter continued, sighing as her audience all left. Then she saw the poster on the opposite wall that their bodies had previously been hiding - Hitler will send no warning. She sighed again. "I'm an idiot."

***

Hazel had found the rope secure enough and was using to climb the roof to reach the child. How the hell she planned on getting back down with the child was anyone's guess.

"Mummy!" the child cried. "Balloon!" He pointed, and Hazel looked up to see a huge barrage balloon from which she was hanging. The balloon drifted away, and she clung on for dear life, her eyes wide as she dangled above the alleyway.

"Artie! Artie! Artemis!" Searchlights combed the sky in the distance, and she flinched as something exploded nearby and she yelped as a squadron of German planes headed for her. "Okay, maybe not this t-shirt," she murmured shakily.

***

"Hazel?" the Hunter called as she exited the club to find the alleyway deserted. A cat meowed nearby, and she picked it up, scratching its head. "You know, one day, just one day, maybe, I'm going to meet someone who gets the whole don't wander off thing. Nine hundred years of phone box travel, it's the only thing left to surprise me." She paused as the TARDIS' telephone rang, putting the cat down. Frowning, she got closer, opening the small door and staring at the phone. "Why are you doing that? You don't do that, that's not your job. You're supposed to sit there looking pretty." She took her screwdriver from her pocket, absently brushing cat hairs from her coat.

"Don't answer it. It's not for you."

The Hunter whipped around to see a young woman in the alleyway, keeping to the shadows. She narrowed her eyes a little. "And how do you know that?"

"'Cause I do," the woman stated. "And I'm telling you, don't answer it."

"Well, if you know so much, tell me this," the Hunter requested, looking back at the phone. "How can it be ringing? It's not even a real phone. It's not connected, it's not -" By the time she turned back, the girl had gone. The Hunter sighed, then shrugged and answered the phone. "Hello? Hello? This is the Hunter speaking. How may I help you?"

"Mummy? Mummy?"

"Who is this?" the Hunter frowned. "Who's speaking?"

"Are you my mummy?"

"Who is this?" the Hunter asked again, biting her lip.

"Mummy?"

"How did you ring here? This isn't a real phone. It's not wired up to anything."

"Mummy?" The dialling tone hit, and the Hunter hung up, before knocking on the TARDIS door.

"Haze? Hazel, you in there?" She turned when she heard a noise outside the alley, going to investigate.

"The planes are coming. Can't you hear them? Into the shelter. None of your nonsense, now move it!"

The Hunter followed the shouting to a garden wall, which she stood on a dustbin to see over. In the garden, a well-fed woman was ushering her young son into an air raid shelter.

"Come on, hurry up, get in there. Come on. Arthur! Arthur, will you hurry up? Didn't you hear the siren?"

Her equally rotund husband came waddling out of the house, shaking his fist at the sky. "Middle of dinner, every night. Blooming Germans! Don't you eat?!"

"I can hear the planes!" his wife called.

"Don't you eat?"

"Oh, keep your voice down, will you?" she chastised. "It's an air raid! Get in. Look, there's a war on."

"I know there's a war on. Don't push me."

Their voices cut off as the woman slammed the door of the shelter shut, and the Hunter narrowed her eyes as she saw the girl from the alleyway enter the garden and the house. Quietly, she followed.

***

An officer in a WWII greatcoat was standing on the balcony just outside the officers' mess hall, using a pair of very non-WWII binoculars to watch Hazel as she struggled to hold on to the rope she dangled from.

"Get those lights out, please," one officer ordered. "Everyone down to the shelter."

"Jack?" another officer, Algy, called as he put grabbed his weapon. "Are you going down to the shelter? Only I've got to go off on some silly guard duty." He looked in the direction Jack was staring. "Ah, barrage balloon, eh? Must've come loose. Happens now and then. Don't you RAF boys use them for target practice?"

Jack zoomed in on Hazel's flailing body. "Excellent bottom," he drawled, his accent very clearly American.

Algy blushed, thinking he was talking about him. "I say, old man, there's a time and a place. Look, you should really be off."

"Sorry, old man. I've got to go meet a girl," Jack smiled, putting his binoculars away. "But you've got an excellent bottom too."

***

Inside the house, the girl from the alleyway filled a small sack with provisions from the cupboards, then headed for the front door. Outside, she whistled twice, then came back in, followed by a bunch of grubby street kids. "Many kids out there?" she asked.

"Yes, miss." Their eyes widened when they saw the spread on the dining table, and they dived for the food.

"Ah!" the girl called sharply, making them stop. "Still carving. Sit and wait. We've got the whole air raid."

"Look at that," one of the boys said, pointing at the meat the girl was carving. "Bet it's off the black market."

"That's enough," the girl snapped, but she was smiling.

***

Hazel was dangling above Westminster when a bomb exploded below her. She'd been holding onto the rope for what seemed like hours, and she was freezing. When a second bomb exploded, she lost her grip and fell, screaming. Suddenly, her fall halted, and she was caught mid-air in a pale blue beam.

"Okay, okay, I've got you," an American voice soothed, seemingly coming from nowhere.

"Who's got me?" Hazel demanded. "And - well, how?"

"I'm just programming your descent pattern," Jack stated. "Keep as still as you can and keep your hands and feet inside the light field."

"Descent pattern?" Hazel echoed, doing as he asked.

"Oh, and could you switch off your cell phone?" He chuckled as she rolled her eyes. "No, seriously, it interferes with my instrument."

"You know, no one ever believes that," Hazel pointed out, but she did turn her phone off.

"Thank you. That's much better."

She snorted. "Oh, yeah, that's a real load off, that is. I'm hanging in the sky in the middle of a German air raid with the Union Jack across my chest, but hey - my mobile phone's off."

"Actually, it's the Union Flag. You're not flying at sea," Jack told her. "Be with you in a moment." After a minute, he spoke again. "Ready for you. Hold tight!"

"To what?!" she demanded.

"Oh, yeah, actually, that's a fair point," Jack stated, as if he hadn't thought of that before.

Before Hazel could yell at him, she fell down the light field and into his arms.

"I've got you," he assured her, holding her comfortably bridal style. "You're fine, you're just fine. The tractor beam, it can scramble your head just a little."

"Hello," Hazel breathed, staring up at him. For a guy, he was pretty fit.

"Hello," he grinned back.

"Hello," she repeated, before shaking her head. "Sorry, that was hello twice there. Dull, but thorough, right?"

"Are you all right?" Jack asked.

"Fine," she told him. He set her down on her feet. "What, you expecting me to faint or something?"

"You do look a little dizzy," Jack admitted, watching her carefully.

Hazel snorted. "What about you, Ken doll? You're not even in focus." And with that, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fainted into his waiting arms. He rolled his eyes, putting her into one of his ship's seats.

***

"It's got to be black market," another boy agreed. "You couldn't get all this on coupons."

"Ernie, how many times?" the woman chastised. "We are guests in this house. We will not make comments of that kind. Washing up." The other children laughed as Ernie groaned.

"Nancy!" he complained.

Nancy turned to another boy. "Haven't seen you at one of these before."

The boy nudged the child next to him. "He told me about it."

"Sleeping rough?"

"Yes, miss."

"All right, then," Nancy nodded, then looked around at all of them. "One slice each, and I want to see everyone chewing properly." A plate of the meat she'd sliced was handed around.

"Thank you, miss."

"Thanks, miss."

"Thank you, miss."

"Thanks, miss!" the Hunter grinned when the plate came to where she'd been hiding behind the door. The children yelped, gasping and running away from her.

"It's all right," Nancy told them, eyeing the Hunter. "Everybody stay where you are!"

"Good here, eh?" the Hunter smiled. "Who's got the salt?"

"Back in your seats," Nancy instructed. "She shouldn't be here either."

"So, you lot, what's the story?" the Hunter asked.

"What do you mean?" Ernie frowned.

"You're homeless, right? Living rough?" she guessed.

"Why do you want to know that?" another boy demanded. "Are you a copper?"

She scoffed. "Of course I'm not a copper. What's a copper going to do with you lot anyway? Arrest you for starving? I make it 1941. You lot shouldn't even be in London. You should've been evacuated to the country by now."

"I was evacuated," one boy admitted. "Sent me to a farm."

"So why'd you come back?" the Hunter asked, concerned.

"There was a man there," he shrugged.

"Yeah, same with Ernie," another boy piped up. "Two homes."

"Shut up," Ernie muttered. "It's better on the streets anyway. It's better food."

"Yeah," the boy agreed. "Nancy always gets the best food for us."

"So, that's what you do, is it, Nancy?" the Hunter quirked an eyebrow at the woman.

"What is?" Nancy asked defensively.

"As soon as the sirens go, you find a big fat family meal still warm on the table with everyone down in the air raid shelter and bingo! Feeding frenzy for the homeless kids of London Town. Puddings for all, as long as the bombs don't get you," the Hunter shrugged.

Nancy put her hands on her hips. "Something wrong with that?"

"Wrong with it?" The Hunter snorted. "It's brilliant. I'm not sure if it's Marxism in action or a West End musical."

"Why'd you follow me?" Nancy questioned. "What do you want?"

The Hunter narrowed her eyes slightly. "I want to know how a phone that isn't a phone gets a phone call. You seem to be the one to ask."

"I did you a favour. I told you not to answer it, that's all I'm telling you."

She nodded. "Great, thanks. And I want to find a blonde in a Union Flag. I mean a specific one. i didn't just wake up this morning with a craving. Anybody seen a girl like that?" She bit her lip when the kids all shook their heads. Then she pouted as Nancy took her plate away. "What have I done wrong?"

"You took two slices," Nancy told her, her lips twitching. "No blondes, no flags. Anything else before you leave?"

The Hunter's eyes widened. "Ooh, yeah, there is actually. Thanks for asking, I nearly forgot. Something I've been looking for. Would've fallen from the sky about a month ago, but not a bomb. Not the usual kind, anyway. Wouldn't have exploded. Probably would have just buried itself in the ground somewhere, and it would have looked something like this." She held up a sketch.

A knock on the door made everyone jump, even the Hunter. "Mumm? Are you in there, mummy?"

The Hunter narrowed her eyes. She peeked out the window to see a little boy in a gas mask.

"Mummy?" he called.

"Who was the last one in?" Nancy questioned.

"Her," Ernie said, pointing to the Hunter.

"No, she came round the back," Nancy shook her head. "Who came in the front?"

"Me," one boy admitted.

"Did you close the door?" Nancy questioned him.

"Er -"

"Did you close the door?" Nancy demanded.

He shook his head timidly. Nancy ran to bolt the door as the child kept calling.

"What's this, then?" the Hunter frowned, folding her arms as she leaned in the doorway, watching. "It's never easy being the only child left out in the cold, you know."

"Oh, and I suppose you'd know," Nancy scoffed.

"I do actually, yes," the Hunter admitted. "I loved my brother, but he could be a dick sometimes."

Nancy frowned, then shook her head. "It's not exactly a child."

"Mummy?"

She pushed past the Hunter into the dining room and started ushering the kids out. "Right, everybody out. Across the back garden and under the fence. Now! Go! Move!" She crouched in front of the one remaining girl, who couldn't have been older than four. "Come on, baby, we've got to go, all right? It's just like a game. Just like chasing. Take your coat, go on. Go!"

"Mummy? Mummy? Please let me in, mummy. Please let me in, mummy." A small hand came through the letterbox.

"Are you all right?" the Hunter asked, moving along the hallway towards it.

"Please let me in," the child whimpered.

Suddenly, a vase crashed into the hand, and it quickly withdrew through the letterbox.

"You mustn't let him touch you!" Nancy cried.

The Hunter turned to look at her, frowning in confusion. "What happens if he touches me?"

"He'll make you like him."

"And what's he like?"

Nancy glanced over her shoulder in the direction the kids had gone. "I've got to go."

"Nancy, what's he like?" the Hunter demanded.

"He's empty," Nancy whispered. The telephone rang. "It's him. He can make phones ring. He can. Just like with that police box you saw."

The Hunter picked up the phone. "Are you my mummy?" the child asked from the other end.

Nancy slammed the phone back onto the hook. The radio started up in the dining room, swiftly followed by toys upstairs.

"Mummy? Please let me in, mummy. Mummy, mummy, mummy."

Nancy shivered. "You stay if you want to." She left by the back door, and the Hunter turned around as the child put his hand through the letterbox. She noticed a small fork-shaped scar on the back of it.

"Mummy? Let me in please, mummy. Please let me in."

"Your mummy isn't here," the Hunter told him softly, edging closer.

"Are you my mummy?"

"No mummies here, not anymore. Nobody here but you and me."

"I'm scared."

"Why are those other children frightened of you?" the Hunter asked, curious.

"Please let me in, mummy. I'm scared of the bombs."

"Okay, I'm opening the door now." The child pulled back his hand. Keeping a distance, the Hunter telekinetically unbolted and opened the door, but the street was deserted. She frowned.

***

"Better now?" Jack asked as Hazel came to in the co-pilot seat.

She blinked groggily, yawning. "You got lights in here?"

Jack turned the lights on to reveal they were sitting in a small, cramped spaceship. "Hello."

"Hello."

Hazel narrowed her eyes. "How about we don't start that again?"

"Okay," he agreed easily, flashing a brilliant smile.

"So, who're you, then?" she asked.

"Captain Jack Harkness, One Three Three Squadron, Royal Air Force. American volunteer." He handed her an ID card.

She snorted. "Liar. This is psychic paper. It tells me whatever you want it to tell me."

Jack blinked, taken aback. "How do you know?"

"Two things. One, I have a friend who uses this all the time," Hazel began.

"Ah," Jack sighed.

"And two, you just handed me a piece of paper telling me you're single and you work out," she pointed out.

"Tricky thing, psychic paper," Jack muttered, having the grace to look a little embarrassed at least.

"Yeah," Hazel nodded, grinning. "Can't let your mind wander when you're handing it over." She gave it back.

Jack read it, and sighed. "'Not a chance, Romeo'? Jules, you wound me."

Hazel frowned. "Jules?"

"Juliet," Jack explained, before narrowing his eyes. "That's the right play, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Yeah. Maybe we should try and get along without the psychic paper?"

"That would be better, wouldn't it?" Jack nodded, laughing.

Hazel looked around appreciatively. "Nice spaceship."

"Gets me around," Jack shrugged.

"Very Spock," Hazel complimented.

Jack blinked. "Who?"

"Oh, come on! You know Shakespeare, but you don't know Star Trek? You are so not a local boy."

"A cell phone, a liquid crystal watch, and fabrics that won't be around for at least another two decades?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "Guessing you're not a local girl."

"Guessing right," she nodded, going to clap sarcastically, before hissing in pain.

"Burn your hands on the rope?" Jack guessed.

"Yeah." She froze as a bomb whistled past in front of them. "We're parked in midair! Can't anyoen down there see us?"

"No," Jack said impatiently. "Can I have a look at your hands for a moment?"

She frowned, holding them to her chest suspiciously. "Why?"

"Please?" He gave her puppy dog eyes, and she relented. "You can stop acting now," he muttered as he gently brushed his fingertips over her palms. "I know exactly who you are. I can spot a Time Agent a mile away."

"Time Agent?" Hazel echoed, trying not to sound too confused.

Jack nodded. "I've been expecting one of you guys to show up. Though not, I must say, by barrage balloon." He glanced up at her with a cheeky grin. "Do you often travel that way?"

"Sometimes I get swept off my feet. By balloons," she was quick to specify. "What are you doing?"

Jack wrapped his navy blue scarf around her wrists. "Try to keep still."

"Okay," she frowned. "Kinky?"

He winked at her, then pushed a button on the console. What looked like golden, glowing butterflies flew to her burnt palms, healing them. "Nanogenes," he corrected. "Sub-atomic robots. The air in here is full of them. They just repaired three layers of your skin."

Hazel smiled as the glow dissipated and he untied her wrists, his fingers warm on her chilled skin. "Tell them thanks."

"Shall we get down to business?" Jack suggested.

She blinked. "Business?"

"Shall we have a drink on the balcony? Bring up the glasses." He opened a hatch in the ceiling, and climbed out, carrying a bottle of champagne, before helping Hazel up with the flutes.

She laughed shakily, seeing the fires of London right below her feet. "I know I'm standing on something." Jack pressed a button on a remote control, and the ship appeared beneath them. "Oh, okay. You have an invisible spaceship. That's cool."

"Yeah," he smirked.

"Tethered up to Big Ben for some reason?"

"First rule of active camouflage," he told her, opening the bottle and filling the glasses she'd brought up. "Park somewhere you'll remember."

***

Nancy went to a hidden shack in some railway sidings and carefully hid the food she'd stolen from the house. When she stood up, she saw the Hunter watching her with a grin. "How'd you follow me here?" she demanded.

"I'm good at following," the Hunter shrugged, leaning in the doorway.

"People can't usually follow me if I don't want them to," Nancy frowned.

"Yeah, but there's actually a reason they call me the Hunter." She paused. "I think."

"Goodnight, miss," Nancy turned away.

"Nancy, there's something chasing you and the other kids," the Hunter stated hastily. "Looks like a boy and it isn't a boy, and it started about a month ago, right? The thing I'm looking for, the thing that fell from the sky, that's when it landed. And you know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"There was a bomb," Nancy admitted. "A bomb that wasn't a bomb. Fell the other end of Limehouse Green Station."

"Take me there," the Hunter requested.

"There's soldiers guarding it," Nancy told her. "Barbed wire. You'll never get through."

The Hunter smirked. "Try me."

"You sure you want to know what's going on in there?" Nancy checked.

"I really want to know."

"Then there's someone you need to talk to first."

"And who might that be?" the Hunter asked.

"The Doctor." She froze.

***

"You know, it's getting a bit late," Hazel giggled, downing the last of her champagne as they sat on the roof of the spaceship. "I should really be getting back."

"We're discussing business," Jack told her, filling her glass back up.

She snorted. "This isn't business. This is champagne."

"I try never to discuss business with a clear head," Jack grinned. "Are you travelling alone? Are you authorised to negotiate with me?"

"What would we be negotiating?" Hazel asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I have something for the Time Agency," Jack confessed. "Something they'd like to buy. Are you in power to make payment?"

Hazel bit her lip. "Well, I... I should talk to my companion."

"Companion?" Jack echoed.

"I should really be getting back to her," Hazel nodded.

"Her?"

"Do you have the time?" she asked, sipping her drink. Jack pressed a button, and Big Ben's face lit up as it struck nine thirty. "Ooh, that was flash."

Jack smirked. "So when you say your companion, just how disappointed should I be?"

Hazel smiled at his persistence. "Okay, we're standing in midair..."

"Mmhmm," Jack inclined his head.

"On a spaceship, during a German air raid. Do you really think now's a good time to be coming on to me?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Perhaps not," he decided, nodding.

Hazel shrugged. "Wouldn't have worked anyway."

Jack smiled. "Do you like Glenn Miller, Jules?" He used his remote control again, and Moonlight Serenade began to play. He took Hazel into his arms, and they began to slowdance. "It's 1941, the height of the London Blitz, the height of the German bombing campaign, and something else has fallen on London. A fully equipped Chula warship. The last one in existence, armed to the teeth. And I know where it is, because I parked it. If the Agency can name the right price, I can get it for you. But in two hours, a German bomb is going to fall on it and destroy it forever. That's your deadline. That's the deal. Now, shall we discuss payment?"

"Do you know what I think?" Hazel asked.

"What?"

"I think you were talking just then," Hazel smiled.

"Two hours, the bomb falls," Jack stressed. "There'll be nothing left but dust and a crater."

She snorted. "Promises, promises."

"Are you listening to any of this, Jules?" Jack sighed.

"You used to be a Time Agent, now you're some kind of freelancer," she recited.

"Well, that's a little harsh," he smiled, spinning her. "I like to think of myself as a criminal."

Hazel laughed. "I bet you do."

"So, this companion of yours, does she handle the business?" Jack questioned.

"Well, I delegate a lot of that, yeah," Hazel nodded.

"Well, maybe we should go find her," Jack suggested, keeping them swaying in place.

"And how're you going to do that?" she raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Easy. I'll do a scan for alien tech."

She grinned. "Finally, a professional."

***

The Hunter was looking through binoculars at the area Nancy had brought her to while the girl pointed things out. "The bomb's under that tarpaulin. They put the fence up over night. See that building? The hospital."

"What about it?" the Hunter asked, shifting her gaze.

"That's where the doctor is," Nancy said. "You should talk to him."

"For now, I'm more interested in getting in there," the Hunter stated, indicating the fenced-off area.

"Talk to the doctor first," Nancy pleaded.

The Hunter frowned. "Why?"

"Because then maybe you won't want to get inside," Nancy told her, then turned away and started walking.

"Where're you going?"

"There was a lot of food in that house. I've got mouths to feed." She shrugged. "Should be safe enough now."

"Can I ask you a question? Who did you lose?"

Nancy stopped in her tracks. "What?"

"The way you look after all those kids. It's because you lost somebody, isn't it? You're doing all this to make up for it," the Hunter assumed.

"My little brother. Jamie," Nancy admitted. "One night I went out looking for food. Same night that thing fell. I told him not to follow me, I told him it was dangerous, but he just... He just didn't like being on his own."

"What happened?" the Hunter asked quietly. She could empathise with losing a brother.

"In the middle of an air raid?" Nancy scoffed. "What do you think happened?"

The Hunter shook her head. "It's amazing."

Nancy frowned. "What is?"

"Well, 1941. Right now, not very far from here, the German war machine is rolling up the map of Europe. Country after country, falling like dominoes. Nothing can stop it. Nothing. Until one, tiny, damp little island says no. Not here. A mouse in front of a lion. You're amazing, the lot of you. Don't know what you do to Hitler, but you frighten the hell out of me." She smiled. "Off you go, then. Do what you've got to do. Save the world."

Nancy shook her head at her, and started to walk away.

***

Five minutes later, the Hunter was breaking into the hospital. Every bed she saw was occupied with a very still patient wearing a gas mask. She was looking over one of them when an elderly doctor appeared, leaning heavily on a walking stick.

"You'll find them everywhere. In every bed, in every ward. Hundreds of them," he stated.

She nodded. "Yes, I saw. Why are they still wearing gas masks?"

"They're not," he said. She narrowed her eyes a fraction. "Who are you?"

"Are you the doctor?"

"Dr Constantine," he nodded. "And you are?"

She showed him her psychic paper. "Dr Art Smith. Nancy sent me."

"Nancy?" he echoed. "That means you must've been asking about the bomb."

"Yes."

"What do you know about it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. It's why I was asking. What do you know?"

"Only what it's done," Constantine shrugged.

The Hunter indicated the patients around her. "These people, they were all caught up in the blast?"

"None of them were," Constantine countered. His chuckle swiftly morphed into a racking cough, and he took a seat by the ward sister's desk.

"You're very sick," the Hunter noted.

"Dying, I should think," he agreed. "I just haven't been able to find the time. You said you were a doctor. Of medicine?"

"I have my moments," she inclined her head.

"Have you examined any of them yet?"

"No." She moved over to one of the patients.

"Don't touch the flesh," he warned.

"Which one?" she asked.

"Any one." After a moment of her looking at the patient, he coughed. "Conclusions?"

"Massive head trauma, mostly to the left side. Partial collapse of the chest cavity, mostly to the right. There's some scarring on the back of the hand and the gas mask seems to be fused to the flesh, but I can't see any burns," she reported.

"Examine another one," he suggested.

She took a quick look at the next patient, then frowned. "This isn't possible."

"Examine another."

She did so, and her brow furrowed deeper. "This isn't possible."

"No," Constantine agreed.

"They've all got the same injuries."

"Yes."

"Exactly the same."

"Yes."

"Identical, all of them, right down to the scar on the back of the hand," she noticed, fighting the urge to back up when she saw that same scar on Constantine's hand. "How did this happen?" she demanded. "How did it start?"

"When that bomb dropped, there was just one victim," Constantine stated.

"Dead?" she checked.

"At first," he admitted. "His injuries were truly dreadful. By the following morning, every doctor and nurse who had treated him, who had touched him, had those exact same injuries. By the morning after that, every patient in the same ward, the exact same injuries. Within a week, the entire hospital. Physical injuries as plague. Can you explain that? What would you say was the cause of death?"

"The head trauma," she guessed.

"No."

"Asphyxiation."

"No."

"The collapse of the chest cavity."

"No."

She narrowed her eyes. "All right. What was the cause of death?"

"There wasn't one. They're not dead." He hit a metal waste basket with his walking stick, and the patients all stood up. The Hunter automatically stepped back. "It's all right," he assured her. "They're harmless. They just sort of sit there. No heartbeat, no life signs of any kind. They just don't die."

"And they've just been left here?" she asked. "Nobody's doing anything?" The patients laid back again.

"I try and make them comfortable," he shrugged. "What else is there?"

"Just you?" she checked. "You're the only one here?"

"Before this war began, I was a father and a grandfather," he stated. "Now I am neither. But I'm still a doctor."

She bit her lip. "Yeah. I know the feeling."

"I suspect the plan is to blow up the hospital and blame it on a German bomb," he coughed.

"Probably too late," she guessed.

"No. There are isolated cases. Isolated cases breaking out all over London." He coughed again, and she made to help him, but he waved her away. "Stay back, stay back. Listen to me. Top floor. Room eight oh two. That's where they took the first victim, the one from the crash site. And you must find Nancy again."

"Nancy?" she echoed, eyeing him warily.

"It was her brother. She knows more than she's saying. She won't tell me, but she might - Mummy? Are you my mummy?" Starting with his mouth, Dr Constantine's morphed grotesquely into a gas mask.

"Hello?" an American voice called.

"Hello?" Hazel's voice echoed down the corridor. The Hunter looked up, starting to follow the noise.

"Hello?" The American man smiled when he saw her. "Good evening. Hope we're not interrupting. Jack Harkness." He shook her hand. "I've been hearing all about you on the way over."

Hazel hugged her. "Go with it," she whispered, before raising her voice. "He knows. I had to tell him about us being Time Agents."

"And it's a real pleasure to meet you, Uhura," Jack smiled, then walked past her into the ward.

The Hunter frowned. "Star Trek? Really?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Hazel asked. "I didn't think you'd want him calling you Art. Don't you ever get tired of Hunter?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Nine centuries in, I'm coping. Where've you been? We're in the middle of a London Blitz. It's not a good time for a stroll."

Hazel snorted, grinning cheekily. "Who's strolling? I went by barrage balloon. Only way to see an air raid."

"Wait, what?!"

"Listen, what's a Chula warship?" she changed the subject.

"Chula?" the Hunter echoed, narrowing her eyes.

They entered the ward to find Jack using what looked to the Hunter like a vortex manipulator to examine the patients. "This just isn't possible. How did this happen?"

"What kind of Chula ship landed here?" the Hunter questioned.

"What?" Jack blinked.

"He said it was a warship," Hazel supplied helpfully. "He stole it, parked it somewhere out there, somewhere a bomb's going to fall on it unless we make him an offer."

"What kind of warship?" the Hunter inquired.

"Does it matter?" Jack deflected. "It's got nothing to do with this."

"This started at the bomb site; it's got everything to do with it. What kind of warship?" she demanded coldly.

"An ambulance!" Jack exclaimed. "Look." He produced a hologram of it from his vortex manipulator. "That's what you chased through the Time Vortex. It's space junk. I wanted to kid you it was valuable. It's empty, I made sure of it. Nothing but a shell. I threw it at you. Saw your time travel vehicle - love the retro look, by the way, nice panels - threw you the bait -"

"Bait?" Hazel echoed, frowning.

"I wanted to sell it to you and then destroy it before you found out it was junk," Jack admitted, sighing.

"You said it was a war ship," Hazel narrowed her eyes.

"They have ambulances in wars," Jack said defensively. "It was a con, Jules. I was conning you. That's what I am, I'm a con man. I thought you were Time Agents. You're not, are you."

"Just a couple more freelancers," Hazel admitted, smirking.

"Oh, should've known," Jack shook his head. "The way you guys are blending in with the local colour. I mean, Flag Girl was bad enough, but Ice Queen?" The Hunter shrugged at the description. "Anyway, whatever's happening here has got nothing to do with that ship."

"What is happening here, Artie?" Hazel asked.

"Human DNA is being rewritten by an idiot," the Hunter muttered.

Hazel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Some kind of virus converting human beings into these things," the Hunter guessed. "But why? What's the point?" The patients suddenly sat up, and she froze.

"Mummy? Mummy? Mummy? Mummy?"

"What's happening?" Hazel wondered, watching them carefully.

"I don't know," the Hunter admitted.

The patients got out of their beds, and Dr Constantine joined them. "Mummy?"

"Don't let them touch you," the Hunter warned.

"What happens if they touch us?" Hazel inquired.

"You're looking at it," the Time Lady replied darkly, backing up as the patients closed in.

"Help me, mummy."

~~~

If you enjoyed, please like and/or reblog, and consider helping a girl out by donating to my Kofi! Thanks for reading :)

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #oc insert #series #thedoctorcried #lgbt #gxg #slow burn

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ask-stjerne-and-logan · 4 years

Text

BaFS Fanfiction Chapter 9: The Holidays (part 1)

The Holidays were around the Corner at Beacon Academy, along with Ceremonies for the graduating Fourth years. The Teachers were struggling to get the last few weeks before Graduation ready. In the middle of it all, Stjerne was watching the three members of the faculty, frantically trying to get ready for the last day. As of today, Stjerne was looking out the window, watching more snow fall. As of right now, there were 3 inches of snow on the ground.

"Glynda! Have you seen the papers I graded for the exam?!" Peach panicked in the lounge.

"They're on top of the fridge." Glynda answered, trying to help Peach and Port get themselves in order. Ozpin was in his office finishing his work and Oobleck was off who knows where.

"Got 'em Thanks Glynda!" Peach began looking through her folder.

"Where are my dust rounds? I need them for next class!" Port frantically searched the lounge.

"They're on the shelf next to the Hot chocolate!" Stjerne pointed up to the shelf, where some small boxes sat, next to Ozpin's supply.

"Ah. Thanks Stjerne." Port grabbed the boxes off the indicated shelf.

"Sure thing!" Stjerne grinned.

"Whoooh. We still have a lot to worry about it." Peach sighed, wiping her brow.

"I know. I just hope Oz takes this seriously." Glynda rolled her eyes.

"I know. Anyway, Stjerne, if you're bored, you can go play outside. Just stay near the flagpole." Peach said as she left the room, "And be sure to bundle up."

"Yes Peach!" Stjerne jumped off the box she had been standing on. She ran back to her room and grabbed her winter gear. Clockwork meowed excitedly as she watched Stjerne get ready to go out. She wore a green winter coat, a brown scarf with mitts and a pair of grey winter boots. Once she had finished bundling up, Stjerne ran out of her room and down the stairs to outside. The flakes was still falling as Stjerne started playing in the snow. Clockwork was with her, frolicking in the snow. Suddenly, Stjerne froze as she heard the bell ring.

"It's probably students switching classes." She said. Suddenly, a group of students came outside and started playing. Stjerne quickly hid behind some bushes, hoping students wouldn't see her. Groups of students began chatting outside, while other students began having a snowball fight.

"Ah! Feels good to take a break!"

"I know right! Port is super boring."

"Eh. He's not as bad as Oobleck. He seriously moves at the speed of light."

"At least Dust class isn't so bad. Peach is really fun."

And so the conversation continued. Stjerne stayed hidden, waiting for the students to move on so that she can run back to the teachers building unnoticed.

"Uh oh. I think they're at it again." A group of students started walking towards to flagpole where two students are standing and fighting over something. Letting curiosity get the better of her, Stjerne snuck over to the flag pole, taking care not to be seen by any students. Soon she reached a few bushes nearby and watched the scenario unfold.

"I keep telling you. It really works!" One student said.

"Tch. You're full of games and so's your team." The other student laughed.

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Well then I double dare you!" Everybody froze at the word "double dare."

"Ha! You kidding me?! Sticking my tongue to this flag pole?! That's dumb." The second student laughed.

"That's only because you know it'll stick!" The first retorted.

"You're full of it!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Then I Double Grimm Dare you!" Everybody stared at the second student expectantly.

"Heh. No way." He laughed nervously, shaking his head.

"I Triple Grimm Dare you!" The First student shot back. Everybody began whispering amongst themselves.

"Alright, alright, move aside." The second student gave in and walked up to the flag pole, eyeing it nervously. He looked ready to back out, but couldn't.

"Go on you Smart alec!" The first student urged.

"I'm going, I'm going. Sheesh." The second student protested. He reluctnantly stuck his tongue on the pole.

"This Is Nuts..." He tried pulling it off, only to find it stuck. "Stuck, stuck STUCK!!!! Holy Crap, Help!!!!" The student started freaking out like a 4th grader, scaring everyone around him.

"Whoa! It actually works!" The first student exclaimed. The other student started freaking out and trying frantically to pull his tongue off without injuring it in any way. Suddenly, the bell rang again and students scattered, running towards their classes. The first student started running off

"Don't leave me?! Please, don't!!!" The second student begged like a kicked dog. Stjerne just stood there in shocked silence.

"The bell rang!" The first student protested.

"What are you gonna do?!" The other student freaked out.

"I dunno? The bell rang!" The student off, leaving her friend to suffer. Unable to leave the student to freeze, Stjerne jumped out and tugged on the Student's jacket.

"What the- Who the heck are you?" The student looked down, surprised.

"I'm Stjerne! Are you alright?!" She asked worried.

"No. All because some crazy gal dared me to do this crap." The student grunted, trying to get his tongue free.

"Wh-what do I do?!" Stjerne began panicking.

"I dunno?! Get help or something?!" The student panicked as well.

"Um.....I....um...." Stjerne looked both scared and confused. She glanced around, looking for someone to help.

"What's going on here?" The two snapped at the new voice. A tall man, with purple hair and eyes walked towards the pole. He was wearing a black coat and brown trousers with boots.

"P-professor Tyrian!" The student stuttered.

"How'd you get yourself in this scenario?" The professor laughed.

"Stupid......classmate.....triple grimm dared me....." The student could only stutter.

"Ah, I see. And you must be Stjerne. Peach told me a lot about you." Tyrian directed his attention to Stjerne, who was still standing there.

"Y-yes sir." She nodded.

"I need you to get Oobleck. This could take a while and I might need his assistance." He directed.

"W-where is he?" Stjerne asked, still a bit uncertain of the newcomer.

"He should be in his classroom, teaching a class." Tyrian answered, "Just run inside and down the hall. His classroom isn't that hard to spot." Stjerne nodded as she ran towards the halls. Once inside, she ran down the halls, looking for Oobleck's classroom. Students were surprised to see a small student running through the halls of Beacon and murmered amongst themselves.

"Wh-where is it?!" Stjerne panted, stopping to take a breather.

"Are you alright? What's a girl like you doing in the halls of Beacon?" A female student asked kindly, kneeling down to her level. She had a short light hair with short trimmed bangs, and brown eyes with glasses.

"Um....do you know where Doctor Oobleck is?" Stjerne stammered.

"Yeah. Follow me. Are you his niece or something?" The student asked.

"No, Peach is my Aunt." Stjerne said as she shook her head.

"Ah, I see. Why do you need to see Oobleck then?" The student stood up.

"Because somebody named Tyrian sent me to get him." Stjerne answered.

"Ah, Professor Pearl must have sent you. Alrighty then. Come on. I'm Mauve Kelt by the way." The student held out her hand. Stjerne grabbed on and allowed Mauve to lead her down the hall. Soon they reached Oobleck's classroom, where Mauve knocked on the door. Oobleck answered it a few seconds later.

"Hey, Professor!" Mauve waved awkwardly.

"Its Doctor, Miss Kelt." Oobleck corrected.

"Right, sorry. Anyway, I have someone who needs to see you." Mauve scratched her head awkwardly.

"Oobleck! Somebody named Tyrian needs you!" Stjerne jumped forward.

"Stjerne?! What are you doing out here?" Oobleck asked, surprised that Stjerne was even with a student.

"I was playing outside when something happened. Now Tyrian needs you!" Stjerne pulled on Oobleck's hand, refusing to let go.

"Ah, Professor Pearl. Okay, give me a second to grab my coat. Miss Kelt, will you watch my class while I'm gone?" Oobleck nodded.

"Sure." Mauve nodded, steeping inside. After a few minutes, Oobleck emerged, wearing his coat.

"Good luck professor." Mauve called.

"For the last time Miss Kelt, It's Doctor. And if I have to correct you one more time, you'll be landed in detention!" Oobleck said sternly.

"I keep forgetting! Sorry!" Mauve protested as she went back inside.

"Alright. Now, where is professor Pearl?" Oobleck asked.

"He's outside. Near the flag pole." Stjerne answered. Oobleck picked Stjerne up and dashed off at a high speed until he reached the flag pole.

"About time you showed up Barty." Tyrian rolled his eyes.

"Well forgive me, but I had to hand my class off to a senior. What happened here?" Oobleck put Stjerne down.

"This scene needs no words." Tyrian gestured at the student, who still had his tongue stuck.

"Mr Crocket..... I hope you got a good explanation for this." Oobleck shook his head, pulling out his thermos and activated the flamethrower.

"Eek!" Stjerne jumped back, hiding behind Tyrian.

"Uh....professor....." The student shrunk back in fear.

"Don't worry Mr Crocket, I'm just warming up the pole. Tyrian, when it's warm enough, pull." Oobleck instructed. Tyrian nodded and gripped the student's shoulders. Oobleck began warming the pipe, gradually heating it. Stjerne covered her eyes, too afraid to look.

"Alright.....now!" Oobleck signalled and Tyrian gave the student a good yank, pulling his tongue free from the pole.

"OWWW!!!" He yelped, holding his tongue.

"Is it over?" Stjerne asked, peeking.

"It's over. Don't worry." Tyrian answered.

"Ow ow ow ow!" The student held his tongue.

"How bad is it?" Oobleck asked. Tyrian carefully examined the injury done.

"He just got the top part stuck. It's bleeding a little, but should heal two days from now." Tyrian answered.

"Eh?!" Stjerne looked scared.

"Don't worry, he's gonna be fine." Tyrian summed it up.

"Well, I'm sure to enjoy hearing about this scenario later in detention. Because that's where you're going after classes today."

"Yessir." The student moaned.

"Stjerne, why don't we head back inside. Tyrian, could you take the boy to the Infirmary?" Oobleck asked.

"Sure thing. See ya around." Tyrian waved as he led the student off.

"Who was that?" Stjerne asked as Oobleck led her back to the lounge.

"That was David Crocket. He's a third year here at the academy. And a reckless daredevil by the looks of it."Oobleck answered.

"Okay. What about the other guy. The guy named Tyrian?"

"Oh, that was Professor Tyrian Pearl. He teaches Aura and Semblance enhancement. He's been here at the Academy for 17 years, his mentor having died two years before that."

"Oh, okay. Is Mauve a senior?"

"Oh, Miss Kelt? Yes, she is a senior here, meaning she is a 4th year. She's going to be graduating soon."

"Really? When?"

"About two days from now."

"Okay. Will I be able to see the ceremony?" Stjerne asked excitedly.

"Maybe. Depends on what Ozpin says" Oobleck answered thoughtfully.

-------(Time skip (dinner time))----------

"So you're saying Crocket literally stuck his tongue to the flag pole on a dare?" Peach laughed.

"That's what it looked like." Oobleck answered.

"And by the looks of it, I see you met Professor Pearl." Ozpin looked at Stjerne.

"Yeah." Stjerne nodded. She still felt guilty for being spotted by the students, "I'm sorry I got spotted. But I wanted to help...."

"Its alright Stjerne. We all knew the secret would get out sooner or later. At least you were able to help Professors Pearl and Oobleck with Mr Crocket." Glynda reassured her.

"How many times must I say it?! IT'S DOCTOR!!!" Oobleck fumed.

"Sheesh, blowing your top at Miss Kelt and now here." Port grumbled.

"And how do you know about that?!"

"Because she was late to my class and she told me."

"Oh."

"Whatever the case, at least Graduation is coming up." Peach broke up the fight.

"Thank heavens for that. That means a well deserved break." Glynda sighed.

"Ozpin, how come I never see Professor Pearl?" Stjerne looked at Ozpin, confused.

"Well, Tyrian Pearl, as his name is, likes to spend most of his time in the tower, where his office is. His office is a few levels below mine." Ozpin explained.

"He's basically Beacon Academy's owl." Peach shrugged.

"Don't you mean literally?" Oobleck asked.

"Huh?!" Stjerne looked back and forth between the two professors.

"Tyrian may not look it, but he's a Horned Owl Faunus." Peach explained.

"Really? But what are his faunus traits? He didn't have any wings." Stjerne asked.

"That's because Faunus wings are a rare trait. Tyrian has wider eyes then the rest of us, and he has feathers mixed in his hair. They're the same color of course, so it's hard to tell." Peach answered.

"On top of that, he can rotate his head 360°" Port said.

"You're kidding with me, right?!" Stjerne looked a bit scared at the last part.

"Don't worry. The rest of us were freaked too, but it's normal." Peach waved her hands, reassuring her.

"Ozpin, on an unrelated note, did you plan the Ceremony?" Glynda asked, changing the subject.

"Yes. It's the same as last year's." Ozpin nodded.

"Give the students their diplomas and licenses and kick them out?" Peach asked. Ozpin nodded.

"You know you have been doing that the past few years as headmaster, right?" Oobleck asked.

"I simply see no reason to detain students at the Academy for longer then needed. Once they graduated, they have to leave in order to save the world. Plus Barty, you know I was never one for speeches." Ozpin sipped from his mug.

"Lier. You're great at making speeches. You just don't feel like talking in front of a crowd." Peach rolled her eyes.

"I can confirm that." Glynda nodded.

"Hey Ozpin, can I see the ceremony? Please?" Stjerne gave Ozpin a pleading look.

"Well, if you want? There isn't much to see though." Ozpin answered.

"Just stick close to me. Okay?" Peach nodded.

"Yes Peach." Stjerne nodded, giving herself a silent victory punch under the table.

"Besides the ceremony, what else do we need to worry about?" Port asked.

"Well, as usual, I'll be planning the faculty party." Peach answered, giving them all a devious smirk.

"Oh boy."

"Here we go again." Groans erected around the table.

"What?! What's wrong with my parties?" Peach glared at everyone.

"No offense Peach, but your parties tend to be a bit too....wild." Glynda answered.

"I sense disdain in your voice Glynda. If you think you can do a better job, then you throw it." Peach argued.

"I can't! I have my work to finish." Glynda protested.

"I think our point here, Peach, is that maybe you can tone it down this year? Nothing too wild." Ozpin interfered.

"Fine. But I still want to do something special." Peach slumped against her seat.

"Hmm. What if you planned some subtle party games." Oobleck suggested.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. Hey Oz, are we getting any visitors?" Peach asked.

"Hmmm. Well Qrow did say that he was going to drop by. And Tai also said he was interested in joining us this year." Ozpin said thoughtfully.

"Huh? Who's Tai?" Stjerne looked at everyone.

"Tai Xiao Long. He's a teacher of Signal Academy and a friend of ours." Peach explained.

"Anyway. Peach, just do your best not to go too wild." Ozpin stood up.

"Yessir." Peach nodded. Stjerne just sat back and sighed. This was gonna be a long week......

-------------------

I know it's not really the holidays anymore, but still. I know u all want more. So here ya go.

PS: Tyrian Pearl is introduced in this chapter! Hope I got the details right.

@tyrian-pearl, @cinnamon-pineforest, @phoenix-no, @saiyoyuutsume

#rwby oc fanfiction #rwby oc #bafs fanfiction #star fic

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squidbatts · 4 years

Text

To Feel So Simple

or: on the relative virtues of Abel, New Canton, chickens, and cats

((it’s That Time Of Year again and i am ever so pleased to present @siriusmistake ‘s zr secret santa present! thank you so much @runnerzero for organizing this, thank you sirius for liking ships that i usually don’t write so i got the Wonderful experience of writing archie for the first time! i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!))

{ao3}

Abel doesn’t have a chicken petting zoo.

New Canton doesn’t either, not really, not one that the Permanent Advisory Council knows about, but Archie’s found that sneaking into the livestock holding pens does just as well in a pinch. Abel, though, doesn’t even have chickens.

“All I am saying is that it is practically a crime to not have farm animals to play with,” Archie tells Five as they do a basic supply run together. Five watches her out of the corner of their eye, amused smile creeping onto their lips. The sight of it makes Archie’s own smile widen. “I know you bonded with Mauve the milk cow when you were in New Canton, I saw you making kissy faces at her.”

“I never said I didn’t,” Five replies, easily stooping to pick up a sports bra that Archie is sure wasn’t there a second ago. “And I’m sure that all of Abel would love to have some livestock around, but it’s not that easy for every settlement.”

“Yes, yes,” Archie waves a hand dismissively, “Not everyone has a castle, but Abel has their military, yes? Can the army not spare a single little litter of piglets?”

Five makes a face, one that Archie knows they don’t think she understands, but that she easily interprets as If we had that, we’d eat it/break it down for resources/something else gruesome and no fun. It’s a very complex face.

“We have... kittens?” They offer after a while.

“Kittens?” Archie gasps, immediately pressing the button on her headset to call to Nadia as Five tries to pass off the smile on their face as shrugging nonchalance. “And I am just now hearing of this?”

“Just now hearing about what, Runner 20?”

“Don’t worry,” Archie replies, “I only wanted to ask if I could stay at Abel tonight?”

“What?” Nadia says, and Archie can hear the annoyed squint in her voice, “No, you and Runner Five both are supposed to be coming back to New Canton tonight, your route doesn’t put you anywhere near Abel-”

“Excellent, time for a detour then!” Archie cuts Nadia off, grabbing Five’s hand and changing their direction towards Abel.

“Archie, you can’t just do that!” Nadia says, “This is not a part of the agreement, and I’m going to tell the Council.”

“I’ll tell them it was an improvised Fraternal Alliance bonding activity,” Archie responds smartly, spurred on by the way Five is laughing and easily matching her step for step. “I am doing important work, and you wouldn’t want to stop a runner from doing important work, would you? That wouldn’t be very productive of you.”

While Nadia splutters over the comms, Five reclaims their hand to say, “Having a sleepover is hardly ‘important work.’”

“Personal relations are always important, silly. You can’t win a war unless you trust your allies, and we could use more trust on all sides when it comes to the Fraternal Alliance.”

“I don’t think you’re the person who needs to work on trusting your allies,” Five signs, face twisting again in an I still don’t like Nadia way. Archie bites the inside of her cheek because, as much as she likes Five and loves Abel, she also loves her settlement and her radio operator and all of New Canton.

Nearing Abel comes with the voice of Sam Yao in their ears. “Hey there, Five, Archie. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but aren’t you both supposed to be in New Canton?”

“Very important intra-settlement bonding,” Archie replies, and Sam snorts.

“Does New Canton know that?”

“New Canton knows what they must,” Archie says archly. “Now, I have heard that you have kittens. Can I reserve the kittens or is it a first come first served sort of thing? I’m willing to wait, but I would rather see them as soon as possible. Oh! Could you bring the kittens to the gate, actually? So I can hold a kitten immediately as I enter Abel. That would be the most ideal.”

“The kittens have to stay in the kitten pen,” Sam says, like he’s reciting a line off a card.

“Are you sure?”

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Sam admits, and Five snorts beside Archie. “Sometimes I think Janine keeps more security on the kittens than the Major does on the gate. Uh, don’t tell anyone I said that though.”

Five winks at a camera and mimes zipping their lips, so Archie follows suit. Sam laughs in their ears and they approach Abel to the cobbled-together gate quickly swinging open to allow them entrance.

It’s fun for Archie to watch Five as they journey into Abel. In New Canton, Five doesn’t seem on edge exactly, just a little stiff; personally, Archie’s always thought that, when surrounded by the structure of New Canton, Five reverts back to habits from the military base they lived on after Z-Day. Back in Abel though, it’s easy to see Five relax. It seems like everyone they pass greets Five happily, offers them a high-five or a smile, and Five’s shoulders lower, their gait slows, everything about them yells home. Archie wonders if she ever would’ve noticed how uncomfortable they were in New Canton if she wasn’t given this close-up view of what Five looks like when they’re so completely in their element.

“How lucky am I,” Archie says after the twelfth person stops them to ask after Five’s health and their run, “To be escorted by Abel’s most popular runner.”

Five flusters, predictably, and tries to wave Archie off. “We don’t have as many runners as you do, it only makes sense that we’re well known.”

Archie hums, not agreeing but also not willing to fight against Five’s lack of ego. She winks when Five shoots her a skeptical look and laughs at the bright blush that blooms on Five.

“The cats are this way,” Five says, quickly turning their face away from Archie and gesturing her forward. Archie laughs again but follows happily.

The kitten pen is an enclosure made of chicken-wire and wood, with a cat walkway high on the walls and half a dozen kittens wrestling and playing and meowing. There’s another Abel runner inside already, one that Archie is able to quickly recognize as Runner 3.

“Simon! Hello!”

“If it isn’t my favorite New Canonite!” Simon crows, grinning and holding a tuxedo kitten with unnaturally sharp teeth up to Archie. “Meet my baby.”

“Your baby?”

Five huffs, rolling their eyes. “None of the kittens have official names, because Janine didn’t want to name them, but Simon has got everyone calling this one Simon Pawchlan.”

Archie looks between the cat and Simon. She tilts her head. She supposes, if she sort of squints, that they look slightly alike each other. It’s the smiles, she thinks. “Ah, I see the resemblance.”

Simon laughs, “No, he’s named after me because he’s great at escaping the enclosure. Even Janine can’t keep him in here.”

“He’s also named after Simon because he’s often escaping to get to Janine,” Five adds, and Simon shamelessly grins at the revelation. “Don’t ask, it’s absolutely not worth knowing.”

“Truly, you’re a charmer, Five,” Simon says, reaching out to pinch Five’s cheek and deftly dodging the mostly harmless snap of their teeth as he does so. “But I do think that’s my cue to leave. Enjoy the kittens, you two.”

Simon hands Simon Pawchlan to Archie as he goes, making a complicatedly indescribable, We communicate only by facial expressions here in Abel face at Five. Five makes one back and Archie politely coos over Pawchlan as the two runners silently fuss at each other. When they’re done, Five sinks to the ground lotus style and clicks their tongue gently, attracting the attention of several kittens. Archie sits beside them, carefully holding Pawchlan close to her chest. She watches, stroking careful, calloused fingers down Pawchlan’s back, as a cat leaps into Five’s lap while another determinedly makes it’s way up Five’s sloped back.

Five stays perfectly still as the kittens explore their new human body playset, stiff but not tense, and Archie thinks, I am lucky to be allowed to see this, to watch the Runner Five covered in kittens, with their back to the door, still completely at ease. Five is lucky as well, Archie thinks, to be the type of person that Archie will overtly disobey orders for in order to spend more time with.

Archie leans over and presses a kiss, firm but not demanding, to Five’s cheek. Five startles and causes the kittens to scatter, red sweeping over their skin as they turn to her, shocked. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Archie says, then, because that wasn’t quite true, “Everything. I was thinking that it's nice, being here with you. You are a surprisingly good date, Five.”

Five turns away, but Archie still sees the nervous, pleased smile creeping onto their face. When Archie leans in again, clearly telegraphing her movements to give Five time to back out, Five turns into it, meeting her head-on. It is wonderful, even if Simon Pawchlan rudely interrupts by digging his claws into Archie’s arms as she inadvertently squishes him into Five.

“You’re a pretty good date too,” Five says, hands steady though they can’t seem to look Archie in the eye. Archie laughs, bubbling over with happiness.

“I am the best date,” She corrects, “And you would do well not to forget it.”

#zombies run #archie jensen #zrs2 spoilers #just in case #siriusmistake

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deathbyhysteria · 4 years

Text

꧁tobin꧂

after mauve’s birthday party didn’t really turn out as planned, i was hanging by a thread. i needed to turn this day around - but i had the answer.

i timed it perfectly. as mauve blew out her candles, i walked in the room with her gift in hand...

...and the gentle sound of meowing.

“mauve, meet your new best friend, penny! she’s an adopted kitten and almost everything you could ever want from a newborn!”

the room was silent for a moment before it was broken by phoenix.

“you couldn’t have gotten us a dog?

“phoenix, go get ready for me please, darling.

“but mum, i-”

“phoenix, i’m not going to argue with you about this, okay? go to your room, now.”

and at that point, i knew it had all gone horribly wrong.

#ts4 #nsb #nsb5 #not so berry #gen 5 #gen 5: plum #tobin le #mauve meyes mills #penny #phoenix meyes le #deathbyhysteria

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shadowdianne · 5 years

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Bet? Emma gives in to Regina and tells the story of the scar she's always been so curious about. Where did she get it and how? Before Storybrooke at one of the foster homes. Is it a funny story? I don't know. Is it angsty? Only you know. Am I lazy and tired? Yes. xD

Thanks for the prompt <3 Hope you like it 😉 This one can it be read as a standalone but if anyone is wondering I decided to use the same ‘verse I did for: Breathe (It will be easier). I tried to not make it obligatory to have read that one in order to understand this one but for those who have let’s imagine those two conversations happened in the same night.

Regina wasn’t entirely sure what had woken her up; her last memory had been Emma’s voice lulling her to sleep but when she opened her eyes, darkness cloaking the bedroom ceiling, Regina frowned before blinking owlishly. Tongue heavy against her teeth, she clicked it a few times as she moved around the mattress, her fingers quickly finding the torso of an asleep blonde.

Even in the grey-scaled rom the dim lighting was able to cast over them both, Regina found herself glancing at blonde tresses; the color a pale white that said nothing of the softness she knew she would find if she touched them. Which she, after a long second, did in the form of long squiggly lines she drew upon a naked shoulder, up to the blonde’s cheek until she reached the woman’s temple.

Emma always looked gorgeous while sleeping; her features almost cherubic in the way she would smile. A detail that the blonde would always deny even If Regina told her it was one of the things she loved about her.

Which was why, perhaps, Regina kept on looking at the blonde, her fingers working small circles that fell from Emma’s temple to her ear. Stopping at her earlobe and grazing it with the side of her thumb, Regina felt the last few drops of sleep ebb away from her; muscles responding her quicker now as she scooted closer towards the younger woman.

Woman who, after a few more seconds of stillness, opened her eyes and turned towards her, left hand climbing up Regina’s stomach, flat against it as it skimmed just below her breasts.

“Did I wake you?” The question, they both knew, was unnecessary: Emma was a light sleeper when she needed to be. Which meant that she was a heavy one when the alarm clock rang if she needed to go to work and an easy to rise sleeper for everything else. A part of Regina wanted to mutter soft apologies, but she didn’t as Emma smiled slowly, lips curving and teeth glinting slightly.

“Only a little.” The reply came in an almost amused tone and Regina huffed at it, unable still to really think of a reason why her body would have woken her up so late in the night. It wasn’t like they had any big baddie to take care of; no curse about to break; no guards broken or magical protection in need of repairing. And yet, she still felt restless, full of energy that made her sigh and press herself against Emma’s hand as she kept drawing circles down Emma’s neck, back to her shoulder.

She could sense her magic reacting to Emma’s: mauve and lilac accents escaping through her fingers and drawing petal-like shapes that glimmered before disappearing completely as they were absorbed by the blonde’s body while the woman began to stretch, back arching and the tendons of her neck tensing just enough for Regina to follow one before she stopped just a shy inch away from her chin.

There, not illuminating but prominent against the pad of her index finger, an irregular scar waited for her. It couldn’t have been more than two inches long; one side slightly thicker than the other and, while not new to it, Regina let her finger tickle the skin as she usually did.

Her action elicited an almost whine from Emma, one that turned into a chuckle as the blonde twisted her body away from Regina; a playful “Stop it” coming out in a muffled, deeper tone that only made Regina smile as she felt the restless energy begin to float away. But Regina didn’t feel like stopping; not when she still felt as if her magic was prickling her insides; keeping her awake. And so she asked the question she had made other times; often related to similar scars that covered Emma’s body; small ones, the kind of ones someone like Emma would have.

“Will you tell me the story of this one?”

She whispered the words, not entirely sure why. She didn’t feel Emma tense against her but the silence that followed the request made her bite her bottom lip: there were many things the two of them still needed to learn about each other, the small, minute things. The kind of things one learnt not by saving each other but from intimacy, from touch and soft-spoken words and those were the things they lacked more. Which could be the reason why she began to move her hand away; not wanting to break the quiet softness but not entirely sure how to proceed.

That was another thing Emma brought out from her; the nervousness of someone much younger than her. A trait she had thought it had been destroyed after Daniel but, strangely, had seemed to resurface with renovated strength the moment Emma had appeared at her front porch with words she had thought she would never get to listen to falling from her lips.

Emma’s fingers wrapping around her wrist stopped her and she let her muscles go lax as the blonde sat up on the bed, rising her chin as she did so. Eyes already accustomed to the darkness, Regina could spy the faint silver line that run through the blonde’s chin. Fair as Emma was, it wasn’t all that visible unless one would know where to look but Regina was already as familiar with it as Emma’s lips were with her very own one and so she hummed softly while the blonde glanced at her quickly before positioning her hand back where it had been. Lowering her chin, angle just right, the blonde waited until Regina scooted closer to drop a kiss before she moved slightly further away, against the bedframe with her green eyes sparkling in dirty white.

“I was nine, or ten.” Regina had heard Emma narrate stories to Hope; the almost bewitching qualities the woman’s voice would undertake and this time it wasn’t any different. Tension progressively becoming a less pressing thing, the Queen nodded and waited. Shrugging in an almost self-deprecating way; a shy smile wriggling its way through the younger woman’s lips, Emma continued. “I don’t remember at which house it happened; number six maybe. Or maybe it was seven…” Emma’s voice trailed off for a second before she kept on speaking, voice softer than before.

“There was this cat stuck up a tree. A kitten really. One of my foster brothers tried to scare him so he could jump away but that didn’t work, and he was meowing nonstop. I grew anxious.”

Regina smiled a little, imagining a young Emma glancing at the kitten stuck up the tree with widened eyes and teeth worrying her bottom lip. Maybe, she added to her mental picture, with glasses already, frame bigger than it should have been.

Clearing her throat, the blonde spoke again, a tremble of an almost laughter reaching towards the surrounding walls.

“And I knew how to climb, you know? My foster brother didn’t so I gave him my jacket and… I started to climb. Once I was up there let’s just say that the kitten wasn’t all that happy to see me.”

“You fell.” Regina hadn’t intended to interrupt the blonde, but she couldn’t stop herself as she moved her body enough for her to glance up towards Emma as the blonde hummed and nodded, a chuckle already leaving her lips.

“I did. Head first into the concrete. There was blood absolutely everywhere.”

Despite the last bit, Regina couldn’t help but laugh a little at the way Emma winced at the memory, her magic blinking in and out of sight with every breath she took. Looking at her with one eyebrow almost but not entirely cocked, the blonde blinked in an almost teasing way; one Regina had learnt to adore, one that Emma only did when she was relaxed, comfortable.

“Amused?”

Regina could sense a similar smirk appearing on her lips, but she didn’t try to stifle it as she hummed.

“A little.” She replied, inching closer and being the one who dropped a single kiss on the other woman’s skin. “Thank you for telling me.”

“It’s just a scar.”

But it wasn’t. Not exactly. And so, Regina hummed noncommittally and fell silent, sighing when long fingers began to draw figures on her; purple and white illuminating the sheets pooling around them both as a starred-filled sky.

This time, when she fell asleep, nothing woke her up again.

#swan queen #SwanQueen #prompt #fluff? nah #this is pure sugar #kreature-of-the-night

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continuouscalamity · 5 years

Text

CHAPTER 2 EXECUTION

Sock proudly presses the button. A faint tune starts to play, and a long cane hooks around Chiaki's neck and pulls her far away from the group.

Show's over for Chiaki Nanami. She will now be executed.

[Pixel by Mod War. Execution written by @prctagcnist]

Warning for crushing.

luck running thin

Former Super High School Level Luckster Chiaki Nanami’s Execution: Executed

Dropping through an empty, mauve sky was Chiaki Nanami, unwilling killer and soon-to-be dead girl.

Luckily (or unluckily), the violently shaking Chiaki landed firmly in a hard, rosewood chair without injury, though her behind started to feel a little numb from the really, really uncomfortable seating.

(That was going to be the least of her worries, soon enough.)

In front of the heavily sweating girl was a small stage, pastel pink curtains pulled apart to reveal an uneasy Buskin and a giddy Sock, both standing front and center. Behind him was not a wall of any sort, but in fact there was no wall for the stage at all. It was then the girl took a moment to take in her surroundings.

It appeared the wooden chair Chiaki landed in and the stage she first saw were all on a cutesy rail in the middle of an unending sea of cotton candy clouds. Why a rail, she did not know.

(She would find out soon enough, however.)

“S-Sock and I are currently thinking of a number…” Buskin mumbled somberly, “P-Pick a number from one through nine within f-five seconds, a-and if it is not the number we are thinking of…”

...At what was probably the equivalent to the top speed of a race car, a very large, very long and very deadly-looking magenta stake came rolling down the rail, pointing at Chiaki from the handful of yards it was behind the stage.

“YOUR DEMISE WILL COME EVER CLOSER! IF YOU MANAGE TO MAKE THE RIGHT GUESS, HOWEVER...”

The stake sluggishly rolled the opposite way it came.

“...You will surely b-benefit… After you guess, the cycle will begin anew… Y-Your guessing begins… now.”

With that, Sock and Buskin each held up a hand as they simultaneously counted down the time Chiaki had to guess with their fingers, though their counting down from five seemed a bit… rushed.

This seemed to be very, what’s the word… rigged. Going off of the tragedy that was the last execution and their eagerness for death, it seemed Chiaki didn’t have much choice in how this was going to turn out for her. No matter what numbers she ‘guessed,’ these two were sure to guarantee her death.

...Still, she supposed she had to play along for the moment. She sighed, her first guess being...

“Nine.”

...The two puppets ducked in time as the bright spike surely almost broke the sound barrier before it stopped, just centimeters away from Chiaki’s face. She felt her heart beating against her ribcage, and her chest began to ache. Her mind was so frazzled from the sudden movement, she almost forgot she had to give the puppets her next guess within the next five seconds.

“F-- Five.”

The stake moved back an inch. Just an inch.

“...Six?”

A foot.

“...Seven.”

A yard.

“Three.”

It was at this point, Chiaki noticed the puppets getting quite visibly nervous at her streak of lucky guesses, sweating (where is that sweat even coming from?) and shaking. As she kept up her guessing, the spike was rolling so far back, Sock took out a comically-oversized telescope to show her how far it was going.

...Why were they emphasizing this to her?

…

Chiaki braced herself as she continued to guess, until she said…

“Four.”

…

Buskin’s shaking was at its worst, and Sock began to snicker before it turned into full-on cackling.

Looking into the gigantic telescope, Chiaki could see the spike rolling down the rail towards her at the actual speed of sound, going by the sonic boom it left in its wake.

‘I knew it.’

Without thought, she quickly leaned off the chair and fell through the clouds just in time, the spike smashing the chair above her as she began to fall.

She fell

Down

Down,

Until she managed to land on the strangely soft ground (along with the bits and chips of the obliterated chair she was sitting on just a minute ago. Good thing her eyes were closed.) without breaking a single limb, somehow.

It took Chiaki a moment to come to her senses before she shook the wood chips off her face, cracked open an eye, and sat up.

...It seemed the puppets had a plan B for her if she somehow survived their first attempt at killing her.

All she saw was a seemingly never ending field of clovers, waving in the wind. They all seem to bear four leaves like the hair clip her sister gave her before she left for Hope’s Peak.

...Chiaki missed her sister. She hoped she was doing alright.

…

Out of the blue, as she sat still for what felt like quite a while, a soft mrroww! reached Chiaki’s ears. Turning around and standing up, she saw a calico with a short, bunny-esque tail staring back at her.

“...”

The cat let out another mrowww! before sitting on its back legs, holding its paw up in a beckoning manner, like those little sculptures in shop entrances.

...

Out of impulse and self(and cat)-preservation, Chiaki swept the calico up into her arms and began to run as fast and as long as her legs could carry her through the field. She had no idea where her legs were taking her, she just did not want to go down without resistance.

So, she ran. She ran, and ran, and ran, until a blur of black speeding in front of her had her skidding on her heels to a stop.

As she paused to catch her breath (she still isn’t the most athletic person amongst her peers), Chiaki turned to see what it was that crossed her path.

Staring back at her was a black cat with the biggest, brightest yellow eyes.

...Funny.

Following the feline’s loud mrrrooow as it stretched, Chiaki saw the sky and clouds being taken over by a dark, dark grey as the clovers at her feet all started rapidly dying, disintegrating to nothing, and leaving the ground at her feet lifeless and dark.

‘…It’s going to be here soon, probably,’ Chiaki’s heart was about to beat itself out of her chest again.

In the middle of her darkening thoughts, the calico in Chiaki’s arms hopped out of her hold to greet the other cat. Looking down at the movement and following the cat with her eyes, she saw the two as they rubbed their sides together happily, and softly smiled, despite it all.

...Her frown and the reality of the situation were quick to catch up to her, however. A deep sigh escaped her as she stood there, watching the two cats showing their affection to each other before approaching and meowing at the only human for what seemed like miles.

“...Wh… What is it…?”

They got behind Chiaki, attempting to nudge her forward with their heads before running in front of her for second, looking back at her after they stopped. Did they want her to follow them…?

...Eventually, after a few breaks in walking after them and realizing that yes, they did want her to follow them, Chiaki was running behind the calico and black cats through the wasteland as the clouds were thundering above them.

So, she ran. She ran, and ran, and

t ri ppe d.

‘...Huh?’

...Before she even processed it, Chiaki’s foot caught on… something. Something, when for miles, it looks like there’s nothing, and now her damn ankle was fucking crooked.

Tears of pure frustration were beading up in her eyes as she whimpered, sobbed, and slammed her fist weakly on the pitch-black ground.

"It… I-It's no fucking use!!" Chiaki cried in time with lightning striking behind her, "F-Fuck, fuck…!"

The cats were in the middle of approaching their friend before they began to back up, hair raised and yowling at the sight of something surely horrifying above her.

Somewhat confused at what could possibly be causing that behavior after all the changes to the landscape, Chiaki wiped at her wet face before looking up to see…

...a large, golden coin.

Spinning, showing heads and tails as it fell.

And it was about to… fall right on her.

Time had seemed to have slowed as memories, thoughts and faces flashed across her mind.

Her sister (She isn't of blood, but Chiaki always loved her like so.) smiling at her as she served her what was surely the best omurice ever, and she had even made it without an adult's help!

She and her sister absolutely beaming as they took their first steps into their new home together with their new mom, their new family!

Her sister getting enrolled into and graduating from Hope's Peak Academy (the Hope's Peak Academy!!) for her amazing cooking skills!

Eventually getting enrolled into Hope’s Peak herself, this time as the Lucky Student! What are the odds?!

Finally making more friends in her new class as her sister wanted, and hanging out with them almost everyday as she could in her dating/friendship simulators! A dream come true!

Graduating from Hope’s Peak Academy alongside her fellow Ultimates! She almost wanted to cry!

...Waking up in a strange, strange place, supposedly in the middle of Italy.

...Puppets telling her and her fellow graduates to kill each other in order to escape.

...Five people actually dying because of some evil, evil person(s) pushing them to their limit, and outright killing one of them because he just wanted to fucking leave.

...Chiaki was going to be the sixth because of a step she never could have fathomed would have led her to this, and she had one question she wouldn’t live to hear the answer to.

“ ...Why? ”

...And just like that, the colossal coin crushed the unlucky girl beneath it, landing on tails as her insides became outsides, her blood seeping deep into the dead ground under the large slab of gold that killed her.

Chiaki Nanami was no more.

#ccrpmkg8 #continuous calamity #danganronpa roleplay #danganronpa rp #roleplay #ccrpmkg8chapter2 #ccrpmkg8execution #crushing #<< warning

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ill-be-your-honey-bri · 5 years

Text

I was tagged by @complicatedbabyhoneyfreak! It’s an honor that you tagged me, thank you!

Rules; answer the questions and then tag 6 people you want to know better

Q1. relationship status: single and I love my Pringle’s. And myself.

Q2. favorite color: Tiffany Blue and Dusty Rose Pink

Q3. top 3 ships: The only one that matters, Narry.

Q4. lipstick or chapstick: Oooo I love both! I’m a sucker for a good mauve and bright red lipstick but you need the chapstick to keep them lips healthy and soft.

Q5. last song I listened to: Turn Me On by Norah Jones

Q6. last movie I watched: Movie? I think it was Captain Marvel? Currently watching the new season on Sabrina on Netflix right meow.

Some people I want to know better; @kissykiszka @jawllines @mysweetcreaturestories @meetyourmouths @mysweetestcreature @aestheticsarereal

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hudsonrhine · 7 years

Photo

cold brewed shisho and hibiscus iced latte

#yum #latte #iced latte #hibiscus #pink #mauve #millennial pink #meow #boho #bohemian #peace #peaceful #yogi #healthy #health #beauty #food #nomnomnom #nom #drinks

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kpop-sprite · 5 years

Text

Familiar - - A Change

This is part 2 of my Familiar story featuring Kang Daniel of Wanna One :> Hope you Enjoy!

Part one

Two weeks had passed since that fateful day in the woods; the day you and your furry companion surrounded yourselves with nature and the purity of light combining your souls together as one for eternity as Familiar and Master. And you hadn’t regretted it since.

The smell of eggs frying woke you up from your slumber, the light from the sun glazing the walls aside your bedroom. Was it morning already?

You struggled to get up, the coolness of fall sitting well outside causing your body to want to hibernate beneath your blankets filled your aching bones. You let out a groan and stumble out the bedroom door looking like a pure zombie.

“Morning, beautiful. I thought I heard you.” The Neko boy’s voice purred from over the kitchen island, an array of foods awaiting you.

“Morning, Kang. You’ve been busy,” You half yawn out reaching for the coffee he handed you.

“Thought we could use a hearty breakfast for today.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t forgotten our meeting with Themis and the Sister’s Fate, have you?”

You half spat out the hot liquid as he spoke, the reminder singing your cerebellum now.

“W-was that today?”

“Yes, love. It was set two weeks ago from today.” His body trailed around the kitchen placing pans in the sink and washing them promptly.

“I’m not so sure I’m ready for this…” You finally admit, rubbing your eyes with open hands.

“Fate can be intimidating, for sure, but I think it’s too late to try and back out now.” He turned the water off as he finished the last pan in the sink, his hand grabbing a towel and drying himself off.

“I’m not backing out….I just want to reschedule…in 100 years,” you laid your head on the counter, hair covering your face.

Kang’s fingers wiped the hair from your eyes, his ears twitching as he did so. “It’ll be fine, Y/N. Here, eat.”

You opened your mouth as your familiar shoved a spoon full of eggs into your mouth.

A slew of words mumbled from your mouth as you chewed.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, Jagiya.” A smirk spread across his face as he continued to feed you.

“Nope! Nuh uh! UGGHHH!” Words of detest left your mouth as you threw clothes out of your closet, your room becoming covered in the array of black and mauve.

Kang sat upon the large dresser adorned with a mirror, his tail swiping the doily beneath him. “Mrowr!”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW? YOU’RE NAKED 97% OF THE TIME!” You groaned flopping onto the floor.

“I’m too nervous and I can’t find anything decent to wear…” You lift your wand up in your hand and swirl the mess above you trying to decide what would be fitting for this meeting.

“Meow!”

“You think so?” You sit up and allow the clothes to fall to the floor. Your eyes catch the last hanger in the closet. It adorned a velvet red dress, its’ sleeves see-through and cuffed at the wrists. You pull it off the hanger and rub the fabric between your fingers. “I guess it’s better than going naked…” You smile at Kang teasingly, he rolls his eyes in response.

“et induere cultioribus vestimentis!” You recite the words to the spell and allow the dress to fall upon your body. The fabric placing delicately on your curves embracing the entirety of your body.

Fingers trail along your sides, stopping to wrap arms around your waist, Kang’s chin resting on your shoulder. “Perfect.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” You reach deep into the dresser drawer and pull out a black box, you open it and reveal to your familiar a black leather collar adorned with a large silver bell. “What a better way to show them you’re mine?” You cock your head to the side and smirk, Kang taking your face into his hands slowly leaning in—

“The Fate Sisters and Lady Themis will see you now!” The two-headed secretary called out, taking a break from typing rapidly on the keyboard in the waiting area.

“I guess it’s time, Kang,” You swallow hard and glance down at the creature rubbing against your legs, the feeling giving you comfort.

The walk down the hall towards the ceremonial meeting grounds feels like it takes an eternity. Kang’s bell not even being heard from the pounding in your ears; your heart surely about to erupt from your own chest. You stall at the slightly opened door, the large black structure staring back at you. You continue to focus on your breath, the shuddered sounds being left to Kang who stared at you from the floor.

“Come in, Darling,”

“We won’t bite,”

“At first anyway,” The three sisters cackled lightly from the inside of the room, the cracked door opening more as you gently pushed your way inside.

“Ah! There she is,” Themis strolled towards you, her tall 6ft figure towering over your smaller frame, long hair bestowed her, the locks swirling mercilessly down her back and front; a large corset cradled her bosoms and allowed a sheer long skirt to be adorned by her waist. “Much prettier than I anticipated,” Her fingers caressed your cheek causing them to flush, a feeling you could not describe.

“Well, come along then, let’s get this over with!” The sisters exclaimed in grievance.

Themis took no time in grabbing your hand, her cold long fingers wrapping around yours and leading you to the far edge of the room, a green discolored glow bestowing a surrounding cauldron heated by blue flames and filled with the overwhelming appearance of smoke. You heart was deathless.

The sisters, covered in long robes, black spikes protruding from their figures, slunk their way to the cauldron, their frizzled out hair prickling your skin as they went. “If the familiar could now take their human form so we may begin.”

You swallowed hard and looked down at Kang, who did nothing but nuzzle your ankle before transforming back to his human form, the collar still tightly placed upon his neck, his hands cupping his private areas to seal them from the ancient women in the room.

The three sister’s sniggered at the tall man, his naked form blessing their ancient eyes. “Maybe I need a familiar, eh, sisters?”

“Can we please just continue?!” Themis rolled her eyes and snarled, the three sisters always causing more trouble than necessary during these ceremonies.

Cough. Please place your hands above the cauldron and recite the combining spell to seal this eternity of Master and Familiar…

You and Kang lift up your hands and hover them over the staley hot cauldron as the sisters withdrew a large old knife, the blade still sharp after years of use.

“junge aeternum.” You both recite as the blade slices its way across your skin, the blood swelling before dropping dramatically into the cauldron and then…silence.

“Well, that was…anticlimactic,” Scorned Themis.

“W-what happened?” You looked at your hand confused, “Shouldn’t something have happened?”

“No good.”

“Not good at all.”

“What a pity…” The sisters droned on with no clear explanation.

Your eyes started to swell up with tears, the amount of confusion and frustration building up quickly in your heart.

“Why didn’t it seal our bond?” Kang finally speaks.

Themis strums her fingers on the large black pot, “this never happens…”

The ancient ones began to walk away from the ceremonial spot, tears piling the floor at your feet. Kang looked at you, a hand on your shoulder before his demeanor completely turned, his shyness disappearing as he walked after Themis quickly, grabbing her wrist with his entire hand.

“HEY! WE’RE NOT DONE HERE!”

Themis took no time turning into fire, her anger of a man touching her sending her into a pit of rage.

“NO ONE TOUCHES, THEMIS!”

“WELL WE DESERVE AN EXPLANATION…” Kang shudders as he points in your direction, “please, she….she deserves an explanation.”

A sigh leaves Themis’ lips as she returns to her calmer state. “The ceremony cannot be sealed and you two cannot be bonded tonight.”

“But…why?” The familiar’s eyes showing his broken heart.

“I—I don’t know…” Themis sighs

“But, we…”

“Do!” The sisters squeal out.

Kang and you both look at the sisters through broken frames, wondering what you could have done wrong.

“You see, our children, you two aren’t bonded.”

“We know that, that’s why we came here to seal it…” Kang fed-up with these women.

The tallest sister lingered towards the naked Kang, “You two…” her fingers trailed down his abs stopping right at the V-line his pelvis created, “are not…bonded.”

And then it clicked. You and Kang weren’t sealing because you two had not combined in the most sacred sealing bond yet…sex.

“Virgins?” Themis cooed in the most tormented way, “how, when this is standing before you, girl?” Her hands grabbing and turning Kang’s naked form towards you.

Your face burned red, you attempted to look anywhere but at your familiar’s naked form, which, for the first time…made you feel embarrassed.

“Until you both”

“Seal your love”

“The bonded seal will not be formed.” The Sister’s Fate nonchalantly spoke before walking out of the room, Themis soon strolling out behind them. Her form stopping in the door way,

“You have 3 days to seal this, or else you two will be separated and given new Master and Familiar.”

You stood in the empty room staring at your hands, a blurry form just before them of your familiar back in his natural state. Three Days.

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