Tumgik
#this happens to me so rarely and I even more rarely actually follow through on that followup idea haha
blujaydoodles · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
HELLO IT'S MISTLETOE SEASON!!
59 notes · View notes
Text
I think the hardest thing in writing for me sometimes is the like “show don’t tell/let people communicate through subtext/Normal People don’t just walk around openly explaining their motivations for everything That’s Unnatural” thing because like.. I literally DO walk around openly explaining my motivations for everything, that is how I talk, I am an analytical detail oriented over-communicator who explains everything as thoroughly as possible and and will give a fully detailed 2 minute long answer to something simple like “how are you doing today?” .. like it’s hard to make things sound Natural and Normal when you yourself are inherently unnatural and abnormal in your methods of communication to an extent lol
#''hey. whats up? you look kind of sad.. is something wrong?''   normal answer (apparently how people are supposed to talk): *looks away#remosefully and stares into the distance* ''n-no.. I'm fine. don't worry about it.''   abnormal answer (how I would respond): ''Yeah I#'m mostly fine. I was just thinking about what the future is going to be like 30 years from now and if I'll ever actually accomplish anythin#g that I want to. which makes me feel X way for XYZ reason. you see because I had a dream last night that made me think of *continues to exp#lain my exact emotional state and inner thought process completely matter of factly in exact detail for 5 more minutes*#tfw you would be a badly written character if you existed in a story lol#This is also why I struggle making conflict because most conflicts can be resolved through conversation and I personally love to have long#detailed conversations about everything. Like literally I don't have hardly any conflicts interpersonally because if something happens it's#immediately followed up with like ''hey sorry if my tone of voice sounded a bit pointed or harsh. when you were talking to me I was trying#to balance all the stuff I was taking up the stairs and also my leg hurts so I think all my mental energy was being used there and I just#didn't feel like talking. I should have just said 'wait a minute and we can discuss it inside' instead of trying to end the conversation qui#ckly in a short rude way.' ''oh yeah thats fine. I thought it was something like that. sorry for hounding you about the topic as well. i#havent eaten in a while so I think I'm just a bit prickly at the moment. we should both rest for a while and destress from the store#trip and then talk about it later. maybe after lunch?' 'sure. sounds good.' like LITERALLY. lol#it is so hard for me to write characters who are bad communicators or don't understand their own internal states or arent constantly#analyzing their own actions to understand what they do/don't feel and why and what the cause of it is and etc. etc. etc.#I just naturally want everyone to perfectly undertsand everything and communicate amazingly and have complete self awareness and#logical presence of mind gjhbj.. which like.. of course comes across as unnatyural and also those type of people rarely ever get involved in#conflict and conflict is APPARENTLY what drives stories (even though I don't like most conflicts and just want to resolve them lol) so ...aa#I mean you can get around this to some degree by the fact that (at least in my opinion) no rule for dialogue is 100%. dialogue is good if it#sounds naturally like it comes from the character who said it. It can be meandering and pointless and rambly IF that matches the character.#it can be dry and overly self aware IF your character is that way and it suits them. So like throwing in a few detached scholar types or lik#e '5000 year old cave dwelling hermit' type people is good for me and works BUT the thing is an ENTIRE cast of characters can't be that way.#at some point - even in a setting where everyone is reserved and academic (like a research camp in the wilderness full of scholars and stuff#) still SOMEBODY has to be the one who's conflict prone and doesn't pristinely understand all of their emotions and etc. etc. Because statis#tically that is still literally the majority. Kind of like my tendency to make everyone 100% aromantic and asexul when it's like.. YES.. may#be 2 or 3 or even 4 out of 10 of them could be that way. but like.. an entire group? a diverse group of 10 people from all walks of life and#EVERY single one is like that??? hgjh . you have to add realistic variety#As much as I'm pro 'have more stories where sex or romance are literally NOT involved at all in any capacity since it's already oversaturate#d in media' I'm also dedicated to realism. alas. (at least as realistic as you can get in a fantasy setting lol)
20 notes · View notes
musical-chick-13 · 8 months
Text
I wish I liked the books. I really, really wish I liked the books.
6 notes · View notes
tgcg · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
candid detail. my biggest project so far
hey happy new year
CG: DAVE?
TG: yeah?
CG: SOMETHING’S KIND OF FUCKING ME UP RIGHT NOW AND I NEED TO TELL YOU SPECIFICALLY ABOUT IT IN CANDID DETAIL.
TG: oh shit
===
TG: yeah whats up
TG: not too often i get to be the sole audience to karkats grievances
CG: PFF, BULLSHIT. YOU'RE PRIVY TO WAY MORE ABOUT MY GRIEVANCES THAN BASICALLY ANY OF MY SURVIVING AND PRESENT FRIENDS, BY A SIGNIFICANT MARGIN, AND YOU KNOW IT.
TG: yeah and im boutta add another im like broses up on that hill bundled up in a long ass list of things that make the homies upset
TG: lay it on me
===
CG: OKAY. SO.
CG: I’M KIND OF THINKING ABOUT JUST. US AND OUR BRO-DOM.
===
TG: oh
CG: LET ME FINISH.
CG: ALL THIS TIME I’VE BEEN FUCKING FORCED TO SPEND IN THE DREAM BUBBLES MADE ME REALISE SOMETHING, AND THAT’S THAT…
===
CG: THIS IS KIND OF RARE, RIGHT?
TG: what
TG: us
CG: YEAH! LIKE… THERE’S SO MANY THANKFULLY DEAD KARKATS I’VE HAD THE INSURMOUNTABLE GODDAMN DISPLEASURE OF FAILING TO AVOID THAT DON’T LIKE YOU, BARELY MET YOU, OR EVEN JUST DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU.
===
CG: IT’S THE RARE AMBIVALENCE THAT REALLY GETS TO ME. I ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTAND A TIMELINE’S KARKAT FIRMLY DECIDING THAT THEY HATE YOUR ASS. NON-ROMANTICALLY I MEAN. THAT HAS BEEN ME, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. BUT THERE WAS NEVER, EVER!!! A POINT WHERE I JUST FELT NOTHING ABOUT YOU AT ALL.
CG: EVEN WHEN I INITIALLY HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF SEEING YOUR DOUCHEBAG SPECTACLES YOU GOT FROM YOUR BRO ON THE SCREEN, I AT LEAST HAD A STARTER DISH OF SKEWERED CONTEMPT TO WHET MY APPETITE. IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO IMAGINE NOT FEELING ONE WAY OR ANOTHER ABOUT YOU.
===
CG: ONE TIME I MENTIONED YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF A THREE-WAY ARGUMENT AND ONE OF THE OTHER KARKATS SAID "WHO?"
CG: "WHO?"!!!!
TG: now thats fucked up
CG: IT IS! AND THAT'S WHAT MADE ME FIRST REALISE THAT NOT EVERY KARKAT IS GETTING TO HANG OUT WITH EVERY DAVE, AND VICE VERSA. AND THIS IS GOING TO SOUND LAME AS SHIT IN A WAY THAT I’LL NEVER EVER LIVE DOWN, BUT. I FEEL BAD FOR THEM ABOUT IT! YOU KNOW?
===
TG: well you always feel bad about around and towards other yous so thats
TG: wait
TG: is or is not the nature of this moment of self-pity fuelled by malice anger disgust or any similar terms slash phrases
CG: I MEAN, FOR ONCE? DON’T GET ME WRONG, THE MALICE ANGER DISGUST ET CETERA IS STILL THOROUGHLY PERMEATING THE WHOLE ORDEAL. THE DAY I LOSE CONTEMPT FOR MY ALTERNATE SELVES IS THE DAY I GET TAKEN OUT BACK AND PUT DOWN LIKE THE LAME HOOFBEAST I’VE ALWAYS DREAMT OF BEING. BUT…
CG: I ACTUALLY JUST FEEL SAD FOR THEM, STRAIGHT UP. INDEPENDENT FROM TERMS PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED.
===
TG: damn
CG: AND THAT FEELS INCREDIBLY WEIRD TOO. I CAN’T EVEN ARGUE WITH THEM ABOUT IT, IT JUST MAKES ME FEEL THIS SHITTY, SHOCKINGLY QUIET… GRIEF? ALMOST? FOR THEM. GENERAL NON-TROLLIAN FEELINGS. AND EXCEPTIONALLY NON-STANDARD IN A KARKAT-TO-KARKAT CONVERSATION, AS YOU MIGHT HAVE GUESSED.
CG: BUT I KNOW IF I TOLD ANY OTHER EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED REFLECTION OF MY OWN FECULENT INNER FILTH TO TALK TO YOU, OR EVEN JUST LOOK AT YOU ONE TIME, THEY’D ONLY SEE IT AS ANOTHER PERSONAL AFFRONT. LIKE I JUST TOLD THEM "HEY, SHIT ALL OVER YOUR FROND AND SNIFF IT, IT’LL BE AMAZING JUST TRUST ME, ABSOLUTELY ZERO REASON NOT TO."
===
TG: you come up with the most potent mental images man youre the wordmeister of viscerally gross as hell vocab
CG: THANK YOU.
===
CG: AND LIKE… SHIT, I DEFINITELY WOULD’VE FELT THAT WAY BEFORE I GOT TO KNOW YOU! I UNDERSTAND THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF THOSE IMBECILIC NOOKSTAINS BETTER THAN ANYONE EVER COULD, DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS.
CG: KARKATS UNIVERSALLY DECIDING THAT THEY JUST CANNOT LIKE YOU ON PRINCIPLE IS A CRISIS OF SHIT HAPPENSTANCES. THE HAPPENINGS ARE ALL OUT OF WACK, COSMICALLY.
CG: LIKE EVERY ME WRITHED OUR WAY OUT OF THE BROODING CAVERNS AND THE FIRST CONSTELLATION WE SAW PEELING THROUGH THE EXOSPHERE, TWINKLING IN THE REFLECTION OF OUR HUGE RED GANDERBULBS, WAS A PAIR OF SHADES GETTING COVERED IN GASOLINE, FOLLOWED BY A CONSTELLATION OF A LIT MATCH.
CG: A SIMPLE EQUATION WITH A VERY SIMPLE SOLUTION.
CG: A SYSTEMIC EPIDEMIC, IF YOU’LL PARDON MY BULLSHIT.
===
TG: it is a goddamn catastrophe sweeping the karkat population
TG: presidents on the headlines trying to get karkats everywhere to stop quarantining their asses and have a real heart to heart among themselves about the issue but they keep isolating anyways
CG: I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL A PRESIDENT IS. YOU’VE FAILED TO DESCRIBE IT AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A POORLY-SELECTED "DUDE CONDESCE" WHO DOES NOTHING PRODUCTIVE AND THEN EITHER DIES OR RUINS EVERYTHING, OR SOME CHAOTIC COMBINATION OF THE TWO.
TG: well that is exactly what it is but wait good point
===
TG: tragedy strikes as the karkat population reveals it doesnt generally know what a president even is so it means jack shit to them that this dude is trying to get their attention
TG: and mr president he is getting voted the fuck out of office over this blunder just an embarrassing display
TG: the public trust has plummeted off the fucking chart and cratered the damn ground like a meteor
TG: or he could be the tenth to die in office yknow there was a pretty big stretch of no in-office deaths til 2009 so maybe some catchup would be good for everyone
CG: ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU WANT TO MAKE ANOTHER PRESIDENT, AND THEN KILL HIM?
TG: not me personally i just wanna be there and see it also is that dream bubble fucking huge or what
TG: must be the size of
===
TG: jupiter
===
TG: look all im saying is the end of the world coincided pretty notably with a dry spell in the presidential kill:death ratio
TG: i was tragically too busy not dying to see obama die live on television when an errant meteor hit the white house that was my one chance
CG: PFFFT.
TG: i want to keep a comically aloof finger on the pulse of the shit but i do not want to be among the shit
TG: but anyways guess its my turn on the pedestal
CG: BE MY FUCKING GUEST.
===
TG: yknow uh im not gonna lie if present me went back to me age thirteen sippin my dubious aj in my pre-apocalyptic layer of hell that was texas and told me
TG: hey that gray text dude is probably gonna be your best friend if you give him a shot yall could be sweet bros in real life itll be awesome
TG: i mean disregarding the fact i already doomed that guy because i dont remember that happening to me
TG: id probably be casting some wicked aspersions on that shit
===
TG: our whole friendship feels like a plot twist to my damn life story
CG: I HEAR YOU.
TG: its like our narratives bumped into each other hard on the street and decided yknow what yeah this pavement is pretty cosy lets talk about your dad
TG: but
===
TG: dont get your think pans too wrapped up in that different timeline stuff
CG: IT’S THINK PAN. SINGULAR. NOBODY HAS MORE THAN ONE THINK PAN, EVER. IT IS A SINGULAR ORGAN. IF YOU WOULD LET ME READ A TROLL BIOLOGY BOOK TO YOU ONE TIME WE’D STOP BUMPING INTO THIS ISSUE.
TG: gotcha and no
CG: OBVIOUSLY.
TG: but anyways dude look
===
TG: i am literally a time dude and i can tell you right now with all the sage wisdome of my knightitudes
TG: not a good way of looking at it
TG: ive met daves that didnt like you either it doesnt affect jack or shit because those daves arent me
TG: like they are in a way but
TG: me and all those other guys spent the whole game honing down these doomed timelines to a fine point and that point has obviously involved a whole lot of hanging out with you
CG: …
===
TG: so
TG: maybe they just missed the point while you and me were on the breaking edge of that shit
TG: we got to the bottom line of it so it doesnt matter yknow
CG: HUH.
===
TG: and i mean plus
===
TG: ive seen a handful of alternate daves and karkats who get along uh great apparently so
TG: yknow
===
CG: WHAT?
TG: you know what i fucking mean im not saying it
CG: ROLLING YOUR SHOULDERS AND SAYING "yknow" GENERALLY DOESN’T CONVEY FUCKING ANYTHING MEANINGFUL IN A CONVERSATION, DAVE.
CG: I’M NOT A PSYCHIC. YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN. IN CANDID DETAIL.
TG: its besides the point anyways
===
TG: the point is its you right here that matters overall and you right here is chilling with me so thats gotta mean at least one or two things
CG: OKAY, OKAY, YEAH… I GET WHAT YOU’RE SAYING. I REALLY DIDN’T THINK ABOUT IT LIKE THAT.
CG: YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND BY NOW HOW IT’D BE REALLY FUCKING DIFFICULT FOR ME TO WRAP MY THINK PAN AROUND THE CONCEPT OF ME BEING THE RIGHT VERSION OF ANYTHING.
CG: BUT I FEEL LIKE THE AMOUNT OF TIME WE'VE SPENT TOGETHER CUMULATIVELY IN THIS TIMELINE MAKES UP FOR THE AMOUNT OF DAVES AND KARKATS WHO NEVER SPENT ANY AT ALL, BY AT LEAST TENFOLD.
===
TG: heh yeah
HAHAH.
===
CG: GOD. WHO WOULD’VE GUESSED THAT KARKAT VANTAS WOULD GET TOO FAR INTO HIS OWN THINK PAN ABOUT THIS BULLSHIT, RIGHT?
TG: stop repeating the words think and pan i get it already
CG: ARE YOU SURE? TOTALLY SURE? ABSOLUTELY ASSFUCK CERTAIN OF YOURSELF?
TG: yes dude
CG: ALRIGHT. KEEP IN MIND THIS WILL BE ON THE TEST LATER.
TG: im acing that shit i swear to god youre gonna eat your damn foot
CG: STRUT POD
TG: when i pass that shit to oblivion
TG: youre gonna regret doubting me
CG: OKAY, DAVE. THEN EXPLAIN TO ME WITH ALL YOUR SAGE WISDOME: WHAT IS A "LUMPSQUIRT"? AND REALLY, TAKE YOUR TIME THINKING ABOUT THIS. GOD KNOWS WE'VE GOT MOMENTS A-FUCKING-PLENTY TO SPARE.
TG: as the literal god of time in your local area i sure as hell do
CG: GO ON THEN.
===
TG: …
TG: pass
CG: EXACTLY.
CG: ANYWAYS, I’M STILL GOING TO GO AROUND FEELING ANOTHER LAYER OF PITY FOR THOSE GRAY BULGEMUNCHERS THAT DON’T GET TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU. NOT THAT ANYTHING ANY KARKAT COULD FUCKING DO WOULD EVER MAKE THEM DESERVING OF IT, BUT THAT’S ANOTHER CAN OF DIRT NOODLES ENTIRELY.
TG: yeah i feel bad for anyone who isnt buddy-buddy with the david stri too
CG: OF COURSE YOU DO. I’M GLAD WE’RE ON THE SAME PAGE HERE.
===
TG: but also
TG: any dave who missed out on a slice of the realest homes in paradox space is a tragedy in my eyes
CG: Y--
TG: let me finish
TG: i just dont let it get to me so much cus… first of all ive been having to not let time shit get to me this whole damn game but also
TG: i know i have you here and thats whats important
TG: ok not "have" just
TG: how the fuck do i phrase that
TG: i know whatever is happening with other "us"es whatever shits goin down
TG: i can wake up and watch movies with you or hell i can even hang with you in there if i bump into you and thats what matters to me in this bro-dom thats what i wanna do
TG: and thats some real shit i just said feel free to co-sign it
CG: …
===
TG: karkat i meant it
CG: … THANKS.
TG: no problem
2K notes · View notes
romanoffsbish · 5 months
Text
You Can Run, but You Can’t Hide
Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!Reader
Natasha always knew the truth, but it wasn’t until a mission where she had you alone that she set her plan in motion. Come the end of the trip she planned to make your hers in the most natural way—claimed and bred. | WC: 1,440
Warnings: NC Themes (Discarding of hormone blockers) | Guns / Death (to Hydra)
Smut: Kotenok (R) | Penetration (P in V — Natasha has a penis) | Public (Over [a balcony railing]) | Choking | Breeding
Tumblr media
Natasha watched the way you paced around the room, it'd been a weeks time since you'd arrived in this hotel. A mission that you were assigned on with Natasha, an Avenger first, Alpha second, but nonetheless an Alpha.
Which would be fine, since you were a beta, but with your medicine missing the truth was coming to light. The truth that the redhead was aware of from the second the lie left your lips, you were an omega; hers, waiting for what, she didn’t know, but she was over it.
———
That's why she took your stash of hormone blockers and poured them down the toilet on night one, at first she appreciated your concealment since she was busy. Missions were at an all time high last year when you joined Shield, but with the incoming fall of Hydra, as this mission is designed for such a thing, there was no longer a need for you to hide from predatory alpha's.
Natasha was here now, to make sure they all knew you were hers. Hers to claim, to wreck, to fill with her pups.
Her cock twitched when she got a whiff of your scent, it was dull from the prolonged use of drugs, but it was still clear enough for her to feel comforted by the soft swirls of cinnamon and vanilla. Then it soured as your body began to fight against the natural, debilitating heat that followed a sudden change, such as quitting your meds. Natasha was quick to croon from the other room, pumping out thick pheromones as she slowly entered the room. You looked up at her so pitifully.
"Oh kotenok," she coo'd, "You don't look too good, what's wrong beta? Are you going through a period?"
You whimpered, body trembling as your natural instincts made you throw yourself into her chest. "Alpha please." Natasha wrapped her arms around you, and held you close enough that you could feel her twitch through her pants. You cried and she smirked. “Oh, what a naughty girl, you’re no beta after all…”
Judging by her teasing tone, you understood that she knew, and with the way she gripped you, it was even more clear what had happened to your supply. You should be angry, but you were actually relieved. A single alpha like Natasha was rare to find, she was kind, soft when off the clock, and gorgeous in all facets. You’d almost poured the pills down the drain yourself every time you caught her staring at you after an event.
“I’m sorry, but please don’t pull away, I-I need you.”
"Are you gonna tell me why you've been hiding?"
"I-I wasn't ready to give up my life just yet, but fuck, I swear I'm ready now, if it's with you alpha, please."
"We have a mission," she reminded you, her eyes cast outside the window to catch movement of the enemy.
"Please!" You gripped her biceps, body shivering at the chiseled muscles that flexed beneath your fingers, if you didn't need her before, you sure did now. "Shit."
Natasha kept your body from falling with the buckle of your knees, her free hand reached for her long rifle and she took the both of you outside onto the balcony.
"I'll fuck you," she gave in with ease, and you purred softly at the good news. Then you felt her slipping your pants off and softly shrieked, "We're outside Natasha, anyone can see us." She chuckled, "Good observation."
Natasha continued to strip you while her other hand set her gun up on its stand, a bit of a multitasker.
"I can wait," you tried to stop her, but not really as you arched your bare ass into her dicks imprint, your body having a mind of its own, your heat was too strong. "Well, I don't want to detka, I've waited far too long."
Though you’d guessed it, you were shocked at the way she confirmed it without an ounce of shame. “Y-you knew?" Natasha gripped your hip, and brought your dripping entrance to her thick tip. "Of course I did, you can't hide from a super soldier's senses," her nose nuzzled over your neck and you whimpered at the hopeful promise of her claiming you. No longer were you worried about anyone seeing you two, the rest of the world faded away as she slipped herself inside.
Her hips stayed still, allowing your slick walls a moment to catch up with the stretch before she was lifting you off the ground. "Na-Natasha, what are..."
The redhead grunted as she lifted your body onto the railing by her grip around the nape of your neck, and you cried out in both fear and pleasure. It was muffled as she alluringly slid her hand around to squeeze your throat. The tip of her cock had slammed into your cervix just as you stared down at the far away ground, full of tiny silhouettes to remind you it was day time. 
The railing shook as Natasha picked up a brutal pace, her face never lost its smirk as she felt your legs wrap around her backside, your heels painfully dug into her covered back. "Alpha, I-I'm not sure about..."
"You wanted to be filled Y/N," she taunted, "I said we had a mission, that means you'll take your pleasure while I do all of the work. Be thankful, not bratty."
"Sorry Alpha," you whimpered, and held on tighter.
"There's the leader," she pointlessly alerted you, who couldn't see anything other than her demise if she slips over the railing. Your walls were clenching so hard, hoping to instigate her knot so that you'd have a more secure base, but it was fruitless. Natasha's stamina was unworldly, and you were completely at her mercy here.
You heard a muffled shot go off over the sound of the railing squeaking beneath your moving body, then the gun was going off again. "Partner is down, two to go."
Natasha picked up her pace, and was rewarded with your filthy moans that were once muffled by your fear, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer. Which was fortunate for the both of you since she already shot another member, and was left with the other who had caught sight of the both of you. He was stuck in place, unable to comprehend that he was going to die by the hands of the Black Widow, who was railing her omega.
Natasha smirked, and finally gave into your cries to be upright. She grunted as your back pressed to her front and your slick, from your first orgasm, ran down her legs. "Last one detka, keep him distracted for me."
Your eyes locked on the others, the mans mouth was agape as he watched you get railed, it distracted him from the red dot that illuminated his forehead. He was clearly unaware of his fate as his eyes lost their life but you were aware of yours as her knot locked in place and her potent stream of cum filled you with a future.
"You are going to look so beautiful full of my pups," Natasha hoarsely groaned against your neck, her teeth barely scraped over your sensitive gland and you mewled, your walls milked her cock even more and her knot subsequently deflated after a minute of your persistence . “Fuck, I need to fill you again kotenok.”
Her strong hands held you by your hips as she carried you back into the hotel room. She laid you flat on the mattress, and pulled out of you, just long enough to flip you over and thrust right back inside of you. It was loud as your arousals rushed out, only to be sloshed all over the place as her cock entered you mid disposal.
Your body then thrashed at the harsh fill up and her canines dug into your scent gland, leaving behind her unbreakable mark as your core fluttered around her as you came again without much work. "Keep squeezing me just like that detka and we'll never be apart again."
"Good," you sighed softly, happiness clear in your eyes, "I was getting tired of being apart to begin with."
Natasha chuckled, and leaned in to chastely kiss your lips, "It was your choice to hide detka, I was waiting."
"I'm glad you grew impatient," you mused, then you nervously pressed a kiss to her neck, wet lips grazed over her scent gland. "Can I claim you too, Alpha?"
"Wait," she whispered, voice raspy as she began to pump in and out of you, "Wait for my knot detka..."
2K notes · View notes
fangirl-dot-com · 5 months
Text
Chapter 1 - Wishful Thinking
“AND THAT IS A CHAMPIONSHIP WIN FOR Y/N L/N! THIS MAKES IT THREE BACK TO BACK RACE WINS FOR THE DAMS’ RACER” 
The roar of the crowd is almost deafening. Well, it would be if you could actually hear it. 
“Good job, well done on another season. We couldn't be more proud,” your strategist Stella tells you over the radio. You can only sigh as you raise your hand to wave at the crowds. You don’t even know if they can see, but you try your best. 
You finally reply, “Good work team.” The switch to the radio is flipped back off, you don’t really want to hear anything else. You and your car finally arrive to Parc Ferme and stop right in front of the number 1 sign. It’s a familiar sight to behold. A second home if you will, since most of the season had been dominated by you. 
The steering wheel is turned off and undone and you gently place it down below. Reaching for the hallo, you pull yourself up with a grunt. Standing on the nose, you quickly turn around and raise your fists, earning you multiple cheers and screams. 
Instead of a usual jump, you quickly clamor down and walk to your team. You reach their open arms and are met with the multitudes of pats and hits to your helmet. Your eyes never settle on two specific people that you try to look for. Oh well, they didn’t have to come anyway. It wasn't like you were making history. However, Stella is right in the middle and you give her a giant hug. 
A second sigh is released, but a good one this time. It was more of a relief to be in the arms of one of your closest friends. 
A pat on the shoulder brings you out of your reverie. Turning around, you are met with the helmet of your teammate. 
“Arthur!” you yell and open your arms. It was a P1 – P2 finish for your team for the fourth time this year, the first where Arthur was on the top pedestal. This race not only decided your first championship, but his third second place since becoming your teammate. 
He quickly returned the hug and led you over to the weigh-in stations. After the number had been jotted down by an unknown official, you are finally allowed to take your helmet and balaclava off. Your baby hairs stick to your forehead, but you know your hair is going to get messed up by the champagne in just a few minutes.
“Think I will have a turn next year, non?” Arthur asks with a cheeky smirk, his accent emerging on the last few words. 
"Well, you will have all the chances,” you respond, setting your helmet down on podium. You both make your way to the cool down room and sit in your respective 1 and 2 chairs. 
“And welcome back to the y/n podcast,” Arthur jokes and you take a giant swig of your bottled water. 
“Ah Bearman is late today,” you say, “I guess he got tired of being number 2 guest.” You grin as Ollie walks in a few minutes later. 
“Already started without me?” he asks, watching your impressive overtake in turn 2, which in the end, helped you reach the finish line in a comfortable P1 finish. 
You just shrugged, “You were late.” 
Your eyes were glued to the screen. An impact between Ollie’s teammate Frederik Vesti and Theo Pourchaire had red flagged the race about halfway through. You possibly could have won by 30 seconds, if you had been able to continue and not have a second standing start. 
But oh well, you won anyway. 
A steward came to get you three a couple of moments later. 
She shook her head with a smile, “Why is it always you three?” 
The three of you looked at each other, shrugging. 
It just so happened that the only female, the one who was dominated the F2 world, her teammate, and his best friend almost always found themselves on the three podiums. Most of the time it was her, and others, her teammate, and then the rare sighting of the bear. 
But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
Well, that was a lie. 
But for now, you wouldn’t want it any other way. Just the three of you. 
Ollie went first, followed by Arthur. 
Then it was your turn to take the middle and highest podium. Taking the trophy from the man, you raised it above your head, fist clenched above. It was truly a sight to behold. Your head was held high as your national anthem blared through the sound speaker, and then the French anthem played for the team. 
Right when the anthem finished, the familiar tune of “Les Toreadors Carmen” began. You quickly picked up your bottle of champagne. Slightly shaking the bottle, you quickly pointed it towards the two boys, who had already started spraying theirs at you. 
Trying to get away, you accidently kicked your trophy off the top step. With wide eyes, you watched at the top popped off, leaving the base and the actual trophy apart. You quickly looked up and saw both the boys pointing and laughing. You stood in amazement and looked around as if to see if anyone had seen it. Who were you kidding though, of course people had seen it and cameras as well. Oops. At least it was your trophy. 
Your hair soon became sticky with the sparkling liquid, your race suit becoming a darker color as it was saturated. You wiped your eyes and you brought the over-sized bottle to your lips. Looking straight into the go-pro, you took a swig and crossed your eyes. 
The F2 page would definitely use that footage later. 
After the celebrations were over, you quickly made your way towards the journalists that were waiting outside of your garage. 
They all shouted your name, wanting to get a quote for whatever paper or website they were writing for. You quickly walked up and grabbed one of the microphones. 
A familiar blond woman spoke up first, “Wow, what an amazing accomplishment you’ve done today. How are you feeling?” 
There was the overused question. 
You took a deep breath before replying, “Ah it was a good run. Not everyone gets an opportunity to do this so I am very happy.” Your smile, however, never really reaches your eyes. 
A man with glasses speaks up next, “I know you must be ready for the break after this history breaking win. Do you have any plans for the upcoming winter vacation?” 
“Well, you know. Just be at home and enjoy it,” you paused before smirking, “And get some more hours in on the sim. Just doing what I normally do when I’m home.” You shrug after you finish. 
They reporters jot down things on their pads of paper. You think that you can finally go back to the comfort of your driver’s room when one more man speaks up. This time with a weird colored tie. 
“Regarding the recent hiring of Bianca Bustamante at McLaren for their Driver Development Program, how are you feeling knowing that a woman, not even in F2, now has a chance to drive an F1 car before you do?” 
Now that question gets you and you pause. 
What? 
You stutter out, “I’m sorry?” 
The man takes a deep breath. “Well I know that you recently projected that you’d be interested in an Formula 1 team as big as McLaren and hoped that you’d be able to get one foot in the door. I mean, you’ve been in F2 for three years now, and you aren’t even a reserve driver?” The man pressed his recorder closer to you. 
Suddenly, the outside felt like it was closing in. Taking a deep breath, you try to answer to the best of your ability. 
“Well, number one, I wasn’t aware that Bianca had been signed, but good for her. There always needs to be more openings for women in motor sports and I’m glad that she got in. Am I disappointed? Sure, but that’s life. My turn will come soon.” 
The man nodded and looked away. 
Seeing as no one spoke up after your statement, you said a quick thank you before handing the microphone to someone else. 
Finally you could retreat back to your room and finally change. 
The minute the door close, you leaned back against it and slid to the floor. Reaching for your phone, you quickly open the Instagram app. Orange upon orange is the first thing you see. 
Headlines of “BUSTAMANTE SIGNS WITH MCLAREN FOR DRIVER DEVELOPMENT” were all you could see. 
Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Of course they would go with her. Much more pretty, definitely meets the CEO’s look of younger drivers, would look gorgeous in papaya. 
All the things you believed yourself not to be. 
You knew it was a long stretch sending an email wanting to discuss future plans with the papaya team. They already had all the reserve drivers they needed, and apparently the development drivers too. 
It seemed like every door for every team was closed at the moment.
Hauling yourself off the floor, you peeled your racing suit off, leaving the champagne soaked material to hang at your hips. 
Walking over to the small desk in the corner, you grabbed your headphones. Connecting them to your phone, the familiar voice of Noah Kahan filled the void. 
You were there for a little more than an hour before someone came looking for you. Not surprised, you let Arthur into your own little paradise. Someplace where the reporters and cameras could not get to you. 
He sat down on your bed while you sat down on the floor. 
He inhaled sharply before speaking. 
“I saw the interview.” 
Your head bowed in defeat. “Yeah.” 
“You know, it’s not true what they’re saying. You deserve a seat and you know this.” 
You nodded. “Well, they don’t seem to think so. What is it going to take Thur? I've already exhausted my options. There's nothing here for me. I don’t think I’ll ever be promoted. I’m not…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. 
Arthur quickly shakes his head before sliding down to join you on the floor. He places both hands on either side of you head and maneuvers you to look at him. 
“Listen to me,” he tells you, accent a little heavier, “you are one of the best drivers of our age. You cannot go bashing yourself when a reporter thinks it good to get a rouse out of you.” 
“Well, I’m no Max Verstappen…or your brother.” 
“And you don’t have to be. All you need to do is be Y/n L/n.” 
He smiled. You only nodded again, soaking in his words. 
After a small bit of silence, you spoke up in a wishful voice, “If you were to sign with any F1 team, which one would it be?” 
He thought for a moment, “I think the answer for me better be Ferrari, to be with my brother. But with their shit season so far, I don’t think I’d want to drive that tractor.” 
You wheezed and held him tight as the giggles shook your body. Arthur could help but join in. After you both calmed down, your breaths were only heard. 
“What about you?” he turns his head, wishful asking. 
“With my luck, I’d also have to drive a tractor,” you cracked a smile. 
“Then we’d be driving tractors together. But I’m serious, which one?” 
You hummed, before silencing. Thoughts scrambling to come up with an answer. Sure, you had dreams. Dreams of papaya, green, teal and black, white and navy, burgundy. But never red as Arthur wishes. 
You finally answer, “I’d take the Bull. Drive a little illegal rocket ship.” 
Arthur huffed. “Are we destined to be rivals Miss L/n? I don’t think the racing world could handle another Leclerc-Verstappen rivalry.” 
“Oh be quiet. I’m not on his level. And besides, if something were to happen, it would be nothing but an inchident…on the race.” 
Now it was Arthur’s turn to sputter and laugh. You decided to disconnect your headphones and let the music fill the small room. 
Placing your head on Arthur’s shoulder, you both let out sighs. 
Wishful thinking, that’s all it was.  
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
outro-jo · 11 months
Text
skz pushing you away
pairing: skz x reader
type: scenario
warnings: poor communication and relationship dynamics (serious red flags), angst?, idk of anything else
request: sorta
a/n: so the original concept presented was if w skz rejected your affections, it upset you and you left but as per usual i took ✨creative liberties✨ please read info before requesting
masterlist | info
——————————
Tumblr media
chan- chris was the one that invited you to the studio but he didn’t realize just how stressed he was. you arrived with food and kisses but he immediately shrugged both off with a slight edge in his voice as he told you that he had to get this done. you maintained your peppy demeanor as you took a seat on the sofa and were happy just to scroll through you phone and be with him. felix has popped a head in to talk to chris but actually struck up a conversation with you as soon as he noticed you on the couch. more uptight than even he expected chris suddenly snapped. “look, i have to finish our fucking album in less than 48 hours! can you two take this somewhere else?!” you and felix stared at each other wide eyed for a minute before sheepishly following each other out of the room. the two of you kept talking like nothing happened. the pressure rarely gets to your boyfriend like this and while he does get upset at times, he’s never yelled at either of you like that. just this once, you both were willing to give him a pass. what you didn’t realize was how long you had been out there talking when chris suddenly ran out of the room. he almost fell over in relief when he saw the two of you still in the hallway. “oh, thank god you’re both here. i really need to apologize. i shouldn’t have snapped like that. it was awful of m—“ “chris, baby, we’re fine. i promise we’re not upset.” you reassured him. “yeah, mate, i know if it wasn’t for you this album wouldn’t be finished. no harm done. all good, cuz.” felix chimed in, hugging his hyung then you before saying his goodbyes. when you were alone again, chris caressed your cheek, stroking it with his thumb and rested his forehead on yours. “don’t ever let me speak to you like that again. wack me on the head real good, yeah?” he breathed out a chuckle. “oh, i won’t but i know you won’t do it again. gave you a good scare, huh?” you giggled at his reaction earlier. chris let out a laugh at himself and wrapped his arm around your shoulder to lead you back to the studio. “yeah, i really panicked there for a minute. i thought you’d really gone.” “nah, you can’t get rid of me. you can make it up to me with cuddles though.” you teased him. “oh, i absolutely will. just let me finish this up.” he nodded towards the set up. “take your time. i’ll be right here, love.”
Tumblr media
lee know- your boyfriend was not someone to be messed with when he was angry and he was currently in one of the biggest arguments he’d ever had with one of the other members. the others were calling it nuclear and unfortunately none of them had given you a warning. when he came home, still fuming, you excitedly rushed up to him like you usually do, peppering his face with kisses until he threw you off. “god! i can’t have any fucking space!” minho snapped before storming back into the bedroom, leaving you teary eyed on the floor. never had you seen him like this and never had he treated you like that before. he loved your kisses, cuddles, and hugs even on his worst day. it left you confused and emotional to say the least. so you pulled on your jacket and shoes, leaving before he could come out, possibly hurting you again. if it’s space he wanted, it’s space he would get. you didn’t really know where you were going and you didn’t even grab your wallet or cell phone. tears blurred your vision as you walked around the city streets. by accident you’d grabbed your boyfriend’s jacket and when you reached into the pocket finding a little cash so you went into the convenience store to get yourself a snack to make yourself feel better. it was the least he could do after all and if he made a big deal about it, you can always pay him back. you took your treat and walked over to the playground nearby, enjoying it on the swing. the sky above you got darker and after some time you figured you should face the music at home. opening the door, you braced yourself for angry minho but were met with broken minho. he looked up at you from the couch, eyes glazed over with tears as he quickly got up, pulling you into his arms. “i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.” he repeated over and over. your body was stiff against him in shock. “minho, what happened? what’s going on?” “i tried calling and texting you. i should have never done that to you.” he pulled back quickly, inspecting all over your body. “did i hurt you? do you have any bruises?” “probably my bum.” you pushed him off you and made your way to the couch. minho stood there dejected, shoulders slumping. “i probably deserved that” he mumbled. “yeah… a little.” you sighed, trying not to punish him too much. “babe, come talk to me. why were you so upset?” you pat the space on the sofa next to you. soon minho laid with his head in your lap telling you everything about the argument he’d had earlier and the two of you found a solution. he spent the rest of the night apologizing and making it up to you.
Tumblr media
changbin- binnie was really bad at communicating.  lately he was overwhelmed with work and didn’t really know how to tell you that he was going on tour so he just kinda distanced himself. you noticed he was staying at the dorms more and when he was around he wasn’t as receptive to you affections as he usually was. at first you didn’t think much of it and to compensate for him pulling away, you started doing the most. you had food delivered to the dorms just to get a “thanks” text in return. you ordered the exercise equipment he was looking at online and all he did was kiss your temple. the final straw was when you actually went over to the dorms to cook them all dinner and watch a movie. changbin was feeling like absolute garbage by now for how you were treating him like a prince but he kept pushing you away. he was almost in tears and when the movie started, you happily cuddled into him, laying you head on his chest. he could have cracked right then, but instead he held it together and just moved you off him. the gesture was enough to have you snap… in front of everyone. “THAT’S IT SEO CHANGBIN! JUST TELL ME YOU DON’T LOVE ME! BREAK UP WITH ME, SCREAM AT ME, ANYTHING! ANYTHING IS BETTER THAN HAVE YOU DO THIS TO ME! I CAN’T DO IT ANYMORE!” once that was out of your system, you rushed from the dorm in tears. the boys all exchanged looks before checking on the group mate on the sofa. “i messed up.” he finally whispered as tears formed in his eyes. the boys gathered around him to love him as he finally broke down, chan offering encouragement and advice. you had rushed off without your things but it didn’t matter until you got to your apartment and couldn’t get in. so you sat outside the door and just cried. the gravity of what just happened hit changbin and he called you to try and fix things. your ringtone started playing. changbin grabbed your stuff scattered around the dorm and ran all the way to your apartment. he found you slumped against the door sound asleep from crying and it broke his heart. you woke up in his arms as he carried you to your bed. “binnie?” you asked groggily. “please don’t leave me. i have no right to ask that if you but i can’t lose you.” he whispered as his bottom lip trembled. “i thought you didn’t want to be with me.” you said confused. changbin held you close and finally told you what had been on his mind over the last few weeks. you promised not to leave him as long as he promised to never shut you out like that again. 
Tumblr media
hyunjin- poor boy, he’s just been so overwhelmed lately. he’s had a lot of opportunities arise lately and a comeback and tour and while he’s excited about all of it, there’s just so much piling up. hyunjin is the type of person that little things he’ll make a big deal about, sometimes because it’s just funny and he has a reaction to it. however, the larger, deeper issues he internalizes mostly to do with him processing. it takes him a while for him to come to anyone unless he’s very close to them. early on in your relationship he would hardly talk to you about some of the bigger things in life bothering him and would opt to go to minho or chan just because he’s known them longer. since he’s internalizing so much it’s been harder for him to be more affectionate with you. he’s not thinking too well and he’s just finding ways to distract himself to cope, meaning he’s less receptive when you try to be affectionate with him. annoyingly for you, he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. when you come home from work that evening, you find him on the sofa mindlessly scrolling through his phone. you offer him a cheerful, loving greeting and only get a mumbled, half-hearted response in return. that didn’t even bother you, what did was when you joined him on the couch and cuddled into his side, hyunjin immediately got up and walked to the kitchen, letting you fall to the wayside. he didn’t even bother to look up from his phone. it hurt. the pain stung in your chest, knocking the wind out of your stomach and bringing tears to your eyes. without a word, you got up and put your shoes back on. just as quick as you finally got home after a long day of work you were once again out the door. you called one of your best friends and asked if they wanted to go somewhere to eat and talk. hearing the emotion in your voice they agreed and met you. they let you vent the whole time, letting you cry and offering you support. before you knew it, the two of you had been talking up until the restaurant was closing and decided it was time for you to part ways for the night. on your way back to the apartment you noticed that you had several missed calls and texts from hyunjin. still hurt by his actions, you decided not to look at any of the messages and just talk when you got home figuring it would be ok if he sweat a bit more. boy, were you wrong. upon entering the apartment again you were met with a distraught hyunjin crashing into you. “baby, i’m so sorry! i’m so glad you’re ok!” he cried into your shoulder. “hyunjin, wha—?” you were stunned and slowly reached a hand up to stroke the back of his head. guilt started to bubble up for making him worry so much. “i’m sorry, baby, i’ve just been so overwhelmed. i didn’t mean to push you away. please don’t leave me!” he begged as he sobbed. your heart ached in your chest at his pain. he’s been holding in so much and you didn’t really have any idea. “hyune… baby, i’m not going anywhere i promise. just please talk to me, yeah? i just wanna be there for you.” you tucked your chin into him and whispered softly before placing a kiss to his head. “c’mon, love, let’s get some rest.” you led him to the bedroom where he laid on your chest and shared everything he’d kept hidden in his mind. 
Tumblr media
han- in his mind it was a joke. he was goofing off and playing around each time you leaned in for a kiss, pulling back or dodging him. jisung was a sucker for any form of attention he got from you but today he was just more in a playful mood. what you hadn’t talked about yet was how awful work had been. it was probably one of the worst days you’d had in a while and you were barely holding it together simply because you were with him at the dorms. you’d gotten the message at work and from that moment you’d been looking forward to just snuggling up in his arms and watching a movie together to forget how terrible your day had been. but jisung insisted on messing around just to be funny and making some of the guys laugh, well, some of them. felix has been noticing things from the kitchen and told jisung to cut it out but he didn’t listen, thinking his dongsaeng was just trying to ruin his fun. it was not longer fun for anyone when after he had done it one last time you got up, grabbed your shoes and bag, and stormed out of the dorms. the only one that saw your tears as you left was felix. “hyung… they were crying.” he said softly. jisung’s eyes went wide, “what?!? crying? i was just kidding around!” chan put a hand on the younger’s shoulder and tried to offer some perspective. “they did seem a little upset when they came in. do you know how their work day was?” he asked. “well, not really. when they texted they said they really could use a movie night. i was trying to keep things fun and make them laugh.” “they weren’t really laughing.” felix reminded him gently. after a few seconds of thought, jisung scrambled from his seat before running out the door. soon he was at your apartment, pounding on the door and begging to be let in. “baby, it’s me! please, i was so stupid! i’m so sorry! just let me in!” he pleaded. you cracked the door just enough. jisung could see your eyes were bloodshot and cheeks tear stained. “jisung, just go back to the dorms, ok. i had a really bad day and i’m just not in the mood.” “i’m sorry, baby. i wasn’t thinking.” he apologized again. you suddenly teared up again, “all i wanted to do was cuddle you.” jisung’s heart cracked. “awe, no, baby! you still can! can i hold you… please? just let me in.” you stared at him a minute, contemplating before you sighed in defeat and let him in. he gave you all the cuddles and kisses you wanted that night.
Tumblr media
felix- you honestly didn’t think much of it. you were getting ready to go out and wanted just a little time with him but he was in the middle of a game and blew you off when you kissed him. this was really unlike felix but he’d had a rough day and he was really invested in the gameplay. so, you just rolled your eyes and kept getting ready. when you called out that you were leaving, he didn’t even hear a thing. with you being out at the club, you didn’t really check your phone that often, immersed with your friends and having a good time. by the time you had returned, giggling to yourself and stumbling through the door, you were met with something completely unexpected. felix slowly looked up at you, his cheeks stained with tears, his hair a mess from running his hands through it. “baby?” he whimpered out before attacking you in a hug. “oh, baby, i’m so sorry for ignoring you earlier! please don’t leave me!” he sobbed into your shoulder. needless to say your buzz was gone and comfort mode replaced it. “lixie, baby, i’m not upset. i just went out. i told you earlier i was going out.” you rubbed his back soothingly as he pulled away. “oh… you did, huh?” he suddenly felt embarrassed. “sorry, i panicked because i was a bit rude before and you weren’t answering your phone.” “it’s ok, love bug.” you pecked his lips. “let’s go to bed. i’m exhausted.” you led him back with you to the bedroom. “ok… can we cuddle?” felix asked, his big boba eyes pleading at you. “of course, cutie!”
Tumblr media
seungmin- your boyfriend was not a fan of skinship, you’ve known this from the beginning. part of you was fine with it and would never want to make him uncomfortable or push his boundaries. however, you were just an affectionate person, it was in your nature. from the beginning you did your best to respect seungmin but it was getting harder and you started to feel less loved by him. one thing about seungmin is that he was observant and noticed every time he pushed you away, how your face would drop. he started to get insecure especially when he would see you around the other boys, especially felix, and cuddle them. he noticed how happy you were to have affection and started to worry that if he couldn’t get over it that he might lose you. at this point it was just instinct to deny you and when it happened this time you got up and left the bedroom. seungmin eventually heard the front door shut and began to panic. he raced from the bed, neglecting his shoes, phone, everything and stopped you at the elevator. your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you watched him catch his breath. “i’m sorry! don’t leave me! please!” he huffed out. “seungmin, i—“ “no, please! i know i’m a terrible boyfriend and i’m not good and hugging and stuff but i promise to be better just please stay with me.” tears began to form in his eyes. you sighed lovingly and stepped forward to kiss him softly. “babe, we’re out of milk. i’ll be back soon and we can talk more, ok? i love you, minnie.” you pushed the button on the elevator and seungmin stood back shocked as he watched the elevator doors shut. 
Tumblr media
i.n- it was a total accident. he asked you to come out with his friends and you completely embarrassed him. you felt awful about it and apologized profusely but he was still pissed. jeongin felt like he was always the baby and always had to prove himself around everyone. it’s something that he’s worked really hard on improving and you’ve honestly helped with that, but he still has his moments where he still feels like the little kid in a group full of older boys. you unfortunately pushed that button tonight and you didn’t even mean to which led to an intense fight once you got home. it wasn’t even really a fight, jeongin just got really mad and you kept apologizing. you came forward and put a hand on his arm for him to throw you off. jeongin didn’t hurt you physically but it did hurt you emotionally. as you stood there staring at him in hurt and shock, he shook his head and went to your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him. after a few minutes you decided to go to the person who could probably help you the most. you rushed out the door, calling to make sure you could even meet with him. “chris…” you whimpered into the phone and he could immediately tell. “hey! what’s wrong? are you ok? where’s i.n?” he asked concerned. “we got into a fight. i messed up, he was so upset. can i just come talk to you? please! i need some advice.” “yeah, i’m in the studio right now. just come on in.” you quickly made your way over. chan listened intently, not interrupting you as you got the whole story out in between tears. he did his best to comfort you and give you advice on how to handle jeongin, but really you both knew this was just something to ride out and learn from. suddenly, chris’s phone rang. “hey, jeongin… wait, slow down. slow down. they’re with me at the studio. yeah. ok… bye.” he hung up with the younger boy before addressing you. “he was worried about you. he should be here soon.” it wasn’t too longer after that jeongin burst through the door in tears. he fell to his knees in front of you and apologized, his head resting in your lap. you stroked his hair softly returning the apologies but got up, pulling him with you. the two of you said your goodbyes to chris and headed home to make up.
2K notes · View notes
wood-white-writer · 6 months
Text
“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [1/…]
- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader
Tumblr media
“So, I don’t blame you if you want to bury me in your memories,”
— Mitski, "Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart"
Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.
Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past.
A/N: I’m basing this primarily on the LA! version of “One Piece”, as I’ve just recently begun to watch the Anime.
Luffy, for his unyielding devotion towards his dreams of becoming the King of Pirates, evidently lacks the sense of foresight required of a pirate to successfully navigate the seven seas. Then again, it's nothing new.
You’ve always known. The kid's been a hazard to society even in his youth; no filter between his brain and his mouth despite the ungodly amount of food he pushes between his jaws. You used to watch him make his proclamations in front of Shanks' merry band with little more than vaguely piqued interest, indifferent to the youthful albeit naive optimism he exhibited.
Shanks, meanwhile, always used to find his demeanor endearing - “He’s a good kid. Let him dream,”
And so you let him. You watched him dream for the next ten years, making sure that his dreams didn't catch the wrong kind of attention until he was old enough to hold his own weight.
However, back then, Luffy's actions seldom warranted any real consequences. Save for the incident with the Bandit and the Sea King, he's rarely been in any real danger prior to his debut as a pirate.
An unruly child spouting declarations of desiring to become the next “King of Pirates” hardly would’ve caused more of a ripple effect than to make other people shake their heads and laugh. And if it did, you were there to make sure it didn’t.
Now, not only has his actions earned you the ire of the Marines by stealing the Map of the Grand Line, but it has also garnered the attention of other opponents. Far more dangerous ones than the likes of Alvida or even that Axe-Hand Moron.
It was only a matter of time.
So when you find yourself waking up in a wooden cage with the rest of your reluctant crew mates, accompanied by a head-throbbing headache at that, your first instinct is to heave an exasperated sigh.
"Goddamn it."
"Oh, you're up." It's Luffy. He looks unharmed, albeit disoriented, not too unlike yourself. "How're you feeling?"
"Like I just snorted a bottle of rum through my nostrils." You get up into a crouching position, eying your surroundings, which doesn't leave much up for inspection considering your cage consists of broad wide planks. "What the fuck happened?"
The last thing you recall before being knocked out was a Jolly Roger in the distance, too far away for you to make out properly. So, not Marines, but pirates.
You can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.
"Think we wouldn't have told you if we knew?" The swordsman - Zoro - replies with a deadpan look of boredom on his face as he attempts to peek through the cracks in your confinement. You have half a mind to tell him where to shove it but opt for a more quiet approach.
It's during moments like these when you realize you actually miss that scrawny pink-haired kid with the glasses - Koby. He never spoke to you like this. Granted, he was probably intimidated by the way you were always hovering behind Luffy like a silent guardian, but he didn't provide unnecessary comments like Bounty Hunter over there does.
Small blessings and all that. Very small.
You provide a solid kick to the plank on Zoro's right side without warning, catching him off-guard and earning you a short-lived glare. The planks loosen considerably, probably not meant to contain you for long.
Meanwhile, you listen half-heartedly to Luffy and Nami as they discuss the potential identities of your captors.
"They're not marines," Luffy assures her. "Before I got knocked out, I saw a Jolly Roger. We've been captured by pirates."
You glance at him from over your shoulder. "What'd it look like?"
"I don't know, it looked ... like ..." he pauses in thought. "A skull with crossbones, and a red ... dot? It almost looked like a nose, if bones could have noses, but they don't."
The blood in your veins freezes up, as does the rest of your body until their voices blur into nothing.
You've been keeping occasional track of him in the years that's passed since you parted ways, and when he amounted to a considerable bounty on his head, his signature Jolly Roger was hard not to miss on his wanted posters.
-------
"I didn't know there were so many pirates."
You tilt your head at the wall decorated with various wanted posters of different pirates, some more torn and discoloured than others, some more dead than others. You can't find your own amongst them in Shells Town, but then again, it has been some time since last you were on the Marines' radar. More likely than not, your poster is hidden somewhere underneath the several layers of—
"Hey, there's yours!" Luffy damn-near exclaims in wonder and points at— Oh yeah, there it is, right above Foxy's poster, a little yellow around the edges but still holding strong.
WANTED Dead or Alive "Cross-Hairs" 25,000,000
"Oh, wow, a 25-million bounty. That's a lot of berries."
The image is well over a decade old, taken back in your early twenties, and you were much more easy to identify back then. You were sharper in some angles, softer in others, compared to the present.
You look different now. Less robust, a little older, but no less dangerous in the grand scheme of things. Your sharp eyes remain the same, a trait Gol D. used to remark upon with a mischievous glimmer in his own eyes.
"You have eyes sharp enough to cut through steele," he'd say and ruffle your hair. A sense of loss perforating your being at the memory.
Despite being in your thirties, age tends to alter the appearance of most people, and you consider that a pretty good advantage right about now as you're standing surrounded by an army of Marine officers. Given the fact that you've spent the last couple of years away from the sea without a trace or clue, the World Government probably assumes you've died or gone into hiding.
Be that as it may, they didn't even bother to decrease the bounty since last time. How odd.
While Luffy spends a few moments admiring your old picture like a child that just learned their relative is some kind of famous celebrity, Koby is less than enthralled by this revelation.
"T-That's one of the highest bounties in the East-Blue." He is hesitant to look up at you. "What did ... What did you do to earn it?"
"A little here, a little there. Kicked a few asses, stole a bit of treasure along the way. Nothing too bad." You admit with a half-assed shrug as you continue to inspect the various posters.
For the boy's peace of mind, you won't go into the less ... child-friendly details regarding your reputation. About the way you used to fight to the blood with most of your opponents, Marines and pirates in equal measure. How you'd stand victorious atop a pile of broken limbs and pleading sounds from the defeated crowd.
"Yeah, yeah ..." Koby agrees with a feeble nod. "There are way worse pirates on the Grand Line."
Your gaze happens upon a particular wanted poster, and your demeanor stiffens. Not enough to notice from an ordinary point of view, but it does nonetheless.
His sharp cerulean eyes and bright red nose seem to mock you from his picture, and a heavy feeling settles in your heart. A feeling of hurt and betrayal you've long since thought abandoned in the corners of your heart. Not even the loss of your old captain could hope to compare to it
You snap back to Luffy, your voice a little strained as you speak though you desperately try to cover it up. "Are we done here, Luffy?"
------
It's your fucking luck it had to be him of all people to come after Luffy first.
Why him?
Fuuuuuu—
"We don't need to fight." Luffy's voice snaps you back to the present. "I can talk to them, pirate to pirate."
"Not with this one," you whisper more to yourself than anyone else. The only one who seems to catch onto this is Zoro, but the moment he opens his mouth to ask, Nami beats him to it.
A discussion regarding the duality of piracy quickly causes you to lose all interest in the following sequence.
You don't trust either the thief or the bounty hunter as far as you can throw them, and the feeling is mutual in both parts. Sure, they proved useful in getting rid of the Axe-Hand, and have had thus far been tolerable enough for you not to throw them overboard.
Still, Zoro recognized you on the spot where the Marines failed to, and though Nami doesn't, your status as a pirate is enough reason for her to distrust you.
As mentioned, you don't trust them, but Luffy does, and his lead is the only one you'll follow. This is his voyage, and you’re not here to keep him from making mistakes unless you consider them particularly vital. If this bites him in the end, then you'll be there to keep him afloat.
After all, you made a promise to your old red-haired friend.
"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream."
With no patience left to wait to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible, you prepare to kick through the planks. Just then, the top piece of your confinements unfold, and what you're greeted with is the pinpoint definiton of a fever dream on acid.
Tightrope walkers swinging in the air, acrobatics performing acts of impressive feats, someone fire-breathing, and-- was that a guy juggling on a unicycle passing you just now?
A circus troupe. You've been captured by a fucking circus troupe.
"Oh, what the actual fuck?" Is all you can manage to mutter, a sentiment Zoro surprisingly agrees with if the nod he adds serves as any indication.
The troupe has an audience, you come to observe in the distance. They're clapping and cheering on cue with the sign being held in the air, yet they look ... wrong. Forced. Puppets with strings embedded in their limbs, so to speak.
You narrow your eyes in distaste at the view. The hell has he been up to as of late?
In the midst of the enforced round of applause, a voice gradually makes itself more and more prominent through the masses. Deeper and huskier since last you heard it, but yet painfully known to your ears.
"No, no, no, NO! Stop clapping!"
And then he appears. The ringleader himself, exasperated as he throws his arms out to each side and effectively silencing the crowd.
"No, stop! This is all wrong!"
You momentarily forget to breathe as you watch him come into view from behind the audience. He's taller than the last you saw him, that's for damn certain. Must've hit a second growth spurt in your absence because, while you were relatively on equal foot in your youth, he now seems to have grown a head or so taller than yourself.
And like yourself, he's changed, and not inherently for the better. It's a relative statement considering that the life of a pirate is oftentimes a hard one, but it's a fact nonetheless. The years have not been any kinder to him than they've been for yourself. He still has the same hair, the same general appearance, but he's changed.
Out of the three of you, Shanks seems to have had it the easiest in recent years, appearance-wise. He never lost his smile or affinity for the brighter things in life, even when he had his damn arm chewed off.
Meanwhile, you lost your dreams, and he seems to have lost everything you recognized about him in your youth. His smile, his laughter, and even his stance had been replaced by some replica that fails to hold a candle to the original one.
This is a show master, not your friend. Then again, you haven't been friends for a long time now.
Still, changed as he may be from an outward point of view, Buggy's eyes have not. They're clear like the seas, just as they were long ago. (And his nose, of course. How could you forget?).
You can't tell if that's a relief yet.
You're not a fearful person by nature, having lost the distinct ability years ago. Now, however, you feel the tremors vibrating through your ribcage at the sight of him. That's why you decide to turn your face slightly to the side for now, hoping to prolong the inevitable.
Fortunately, your presence evades Buggy's notice for just a while longer as he berates his crew. "The spotlight was late! You completely missed my entrance!"
The sound of said spotlight changing its focus can be heard.
"And where, oh where, was the dancing lion?"
Good! While he's occupied, maybe you can find the right moment to grab Luffy and get the hell--
"Hey! I know you! I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town!"
... You want to dig a hole in the sand and bury yourself right about now.
"You're the clown guy! Uhm ... Binky, right?"
Buggy, you scream inside as you suppress the urge to yank Luffy by the shoulders and shake him until all of his limbs drop down on the ground. Fuck Shanks and fuck the promise. He's Buggy the fucking Clown, and you did not have to go out of your way to pinpoint that fact!
In your internal state of dismay, you settle with trying to locate potential escape routes. Maybe a hole in the walls of the tent, or an absent-minded guard by the entrance. You're stronger than most, with years of experience behind you, but you're not capable of fighting your way through a crowd with three tagalongs so seamlessly.
"Buggy," the man of the hour states as he approaches, still having failed to notice you. "Buggy the Clown."
No one says anything, which he takes as a sign to continue on with - what you personally regard - as a moronic long line of titles.
"Buggy, the Flashy Fool." Still nothing. He raises his arms, like a lost puppy begging for scraps of recognition. "Buggy, the Genius Jester."
Seriously, what's with him and all the names? He’s always been … overdramatic, but this cuts the cake even for him.
"Wow," Luffy seems genuinely impressed, a stark contrast to his companions, who would rather be anywhere than here. "You have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are."
A range of gasps echo from the unwilling audience, and you finally snap your head to the front in alarm. Fuck, he couldn't have used a better word than that. Granted, Luffy didn't mean it in that context, or even that word, but it doesn't matter.
Another thing that hasn't changed about Buggy... And that very same thing might as well be what snaps him out of his theatric act.
You thought Buggy finally would've noticed you by now, seeing it as you're finally willing to face him, but his eyes remain eerily glued to the kid.
"What did you just say?" Buggy asks, calmly.
Way too calmly for your liking.
Oh, no.
Luffy blinks in confusion. "Just that everyone knows who you are?"
You notice the clown lunging before Luffy does.
In the span of a second, you plant yourself between them, the only barrier between him and the clown's rage. You don't move an inch even as Buggy closes in with his gloved hand outstretched towards the boy, having not yet registered your sudden appearance until his fingers are inches from your face.
Your eyes finally lock, the blue in his eyes more prominent now than ever. Almost two decades since the last time you saw each other, and Buggy ceases his attempted assault as though time itself freezes.
At first, there is nothing in his eyes but surprise. Anger. Maybe even a trace of admiration towards the one who dared stand against him. Hot and burning beneath his irises, like glowing embers left behind in a dying pyre.
Finally, there is recognition, and the fire reignites warmer and scorching more than ever before.
He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you, but the glare in your eyes conveys the message loudly enough that even the performers and troupe members alike know not to interfere.
"Leave him be."
You think of what to say, what you can say, after years of being silent. A simple “Hi” will not suffice, and considering the way of which you parted, there is little room for confessions.
Then, Buggy begins to laugh.
It starts out as a whisper of a chuckle, then gradually develops until he's full-out holding his stomach in wheezes, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and smudging his make-up.
He points his arm up as he tries to contain himself, and the guy holding the APPLAUSE-sign picks up on the subliminal message. Everyone in the place begins to laugh, both the captives and the captors, so loudly this time that it makes you feel small in a way you haven’t felt since you were a child.
You glance cautiously around yourself, sharing brief looks with your companions before the noises abruptly stop, having most likely been forced to do so.
When you look back at Buggy again, he's smiling wider than ever, but his eyes hold no genuine humor. No, there's an unidentifiable emotion swirling in the depths of his blue eyes that you fail to decipher before he speaks.
"Well, well, well! Isn't this an unexpected surprise?" He raises his arm to gesture to you, as if you're an exotic exhibition behind a display case for everyone to behold. The spotlight is now aimed at you, momentarily blinding your vision.
"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my honor to present to you, the one and only, the myth, the legendary 'Cross-Hairs'! The Beast of the East!"
Applause rings again in the air as Buggy continues.
"She was famous throughout all of East Blue for her many endeavors, with a bounty greater than even yours flashy truly." Admitting that fact looks like it physically hurt him, but he prevails. "And then, almost ten years ago, after her biggest heist yet, she just POOFS!" He snaps his fingers and lets them slowly decline for dramatic effect. "Vanishes out of the blue. Leaving the seas for an unforeseen amount of time."
It would seem like you were keeping track of each other all along.
The next words Buggy utters are so hushed that only you hear them, and his smile is gone.
"Then again, you do have a track-record of leaving things behind, haven’t you?"
Oh, the fucking nerve of this guy. You take a step forward, clenching and unclenching you jaw so much your teeth feel on the bring of cracking. How dare he? How fucking dare he?
You’re about to shout back at him, argue, throwing every caution to the wind just to correct him and scream:
("You're the one who left me, remember?")
Before you can, something taps your right shoulder. Thinking it's Luffy, you turn around, and the last thing you recall before it all fades to black is an air of red dust clouding your vision.
978 notes · View notes
livwritesstuff · 7 days
Text
you know that feeling where you’re having a god-awful day and all you really want is a hug but you’re at work so, like, that’s not gonna happen, and you basically just have to stew in all those shitty feelings and wait out the clock? yeah, me too, that’s kind of where this came from.
Eddie had a tough day.
It had started early that morning when the girls missed their school bus – not a huge deal, honestly, he was already gonna be leaving early to go get his car looked at.
But then he got shitty news from the mechanic, and then a meeting with his agent didn’t go the way he’d wanted at all, and then Hazel ended up being a total pain in the ass after he picked her up from kindergarten, and during her relentless haranguing, she knocked one of Eddie’s favorite mugs off the counter. It shattered, obviously, and she cried about it so he’d had to deal with both of those things at once, and it was just a day.
None of it was anything he couldn’t handle – the problem was the compounding nature of it and the way he basically just had to stew in it all until the next obstacle came along and made shit even worse.
All Eddie really wanted was Steve, and how Steve being around made dealing with this stuff so much easier, even if every other circumstance was the same.
He has to share Steve, though, and today he’s sharing him with Steve’s work until four o’clock.
It’s fine.
He can wait until four.
The older two girls got off their bus at half-past three, and, seriously, someone must have put something in the water this morning because they are in rare goddamn form today. If Hazel alone was bad, all three of them together were…well, thrice that. It’s like the universe said I see your bad day and I raise you three elementary schoolers hitting their peak annoyance thresholds simultaneously.
And it’s not like Eddie can even fucking fold, either.
It’s cold and kind of windy outside, which is Eddie’s least favorite weather and he’d thought maybe the girls would want to go right inside, but no. Of course they want to dig out the chalk that got stashed away in the garage last fall, and while Eddie is stuck shivering outside breaking up dumb arguments about who’s allowed to use which colors (he figured the answer was an obvious everyone, but apparently that’s incorrect), Steve leaves a message saying he tacked on an emergency session onto the end of his day and now he’s not out until five.
Eddie doesn’t hear it until he’s back inside, obviously, but when he does it’s like someone ran a whole fucking dagger through his chest.
He’s halfway through making dinner when Steve gets home (he’d actually be done making dinner if the pot of water hadn’t boiled off while he’d dealt with yet another stupid argument), and he drops everything to meet him at the door.
It’s like Steve can tell in an instant the kind of day Eddie had.
“What happened?” he asks as he toes off his shoes.
Eddie shakes his head, “Everything…nothing…I don’t even know. Just…one of those days.”
Steve nods his understanding, and as soon as he’s got his coat hung up he’s pulling Eddie into a hug.
It ends up being kind of a bone-crushing one — that’s on Eddie, though. He’d just fucking needed it. He knows he’d needed it when Steve’s arms tighten around his shoulders and he feels that much better.
“You okay?” Steve asks without letting him go, the breath of his words hitting warm against Eddie’s neck.
“Just tired,” he answers.
Steve pulls away.
“You can take a break, Ed,” he says, and there’s something in his eyes – not concern, exactly, but more like awareness, “I’ll be up in a bit.”
Eddie just nods and heads for the stairs. As he goes, he faintly hears Steve asking, “What the hell did you guys do to Dad today?”, followed by the girls’ defensive protests.
In their room, Eddie makes it through one full rerun of Star Trek and then the first few minutes of a second before Steve joins him.
He notices that it’s quiet downstairs for the first time that evening, and he tries not to take it too personally. He’s always been comfortable in the knowledge that Steve might be better at the whole parenting thing than him (psych degrees and all that), but, shit, if he’s that much better…
“What’d you do, strangle them?” Eddie asks as Steve swaps his jeans out for a pair of faded plaid pajama pants.
“No, I told them that if I hear a single peep in the next hour I’m beheading all their stuffed animals.”
Eddie blinks.
Okay, maybe better isn’t exactly the right word.
“So they’re on verbal lockdown, basically,” Steve finishes.
“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Eddie shakes his head, “You’re kind of crazy.”
“Yeah, well, you were always gonna rub off on me one of these days — don’t.”
And Eddie couldn’t help the way he threw his head back and laughed.
455 notes · View notes
nattblacklupin · 5 days
Text
Never was much of a romantic
Tumblr media
Pairing: Cassian x Fem! Illyrian! Reader
Warning: mention of wing clipping (just as a threat), Devlon being asshole, reader simping on Cassian, reader is described as being shorter than Devlon and Cassian, random switches in pov (like two times), little bit of angst (cassian feels like he doesn't deserve love), swear words, little bit of Nesta slander
Summary: Cassian meets you in Windhaven and sees you arguring with Devlon. Something about your fierce attitude makes him want to be closer to you.
Part two
Tumblr media
Cassian was never much of a romantic. He was one night stand guy. He never felt the need to actually love someone. But later on in his life, he has been feeling more and more alone. He saw his friends find love, mates. Everybody had their own person while he was stuck alone.
He, of course, had his family, the inner circle. They would help him with anything and do anything for him. But it's not the same as having a mate. Someone to love and cherish. Someone who will see through him and know when he really isn't alright.
For a while, he thought that Nesta was his mate. But then she left the night court for autumn court, specifically for the heir of autumn court. And he was alone again.
Nesta absence took a tool on him. He really thought they were meant to be, and she even acted like it. But then one day she just left, only leaving a letter as a goodbye. That made Cassian believe he didn't have a mate. They were rare, so maybe he was meant to never find her. It was possible, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was like that. At the end of the day, he is a low born bastard who doesn't deserve anything more than his ratty tent.
Tumblr media
Rhys sent him to Windhaven to check if everyone is being trained as commanded to. If he had any say in this, he wouldn't come here. He hated Devlon and this place. It reminded him of all the bad things that happened there when he was just a child. The only good thing about this place was when he met Rhysand with Azriel. His two brothers are the only reason he's still alive.
But he had to follow the orders of his high lord. Maybe he could go to Rita's after and enjoy the night with his family after he is done here. That thought made him feel somehow lighter. Nothing is better than night with his family.
,,I will train, and I don't care what you tell me"
Cassian immediately looked the way the voice was coming from. He saw illyrian woman standing in front of Devlon. There was a visible high difference between them, but she didn't let it affect her and continued to stand her ground. Cassian was amazed by that and decided to watch for some while. If something happened, he could help her, not that she looked like she needed it. Yet as he was standing there and seeing her arguring with a man that was nearly twice her size, he came to conclusion that maybe women in this camp could put Devlon in his place even better than he ever could.
"You should be glad that you still have your wings, I could just clip them as a punishment for your disobedience"
You just laughed in his face. "do it, and my high lord will have your head. "
Cassian heart warmed at the thought that illyrian women trust Rhys to protect them. They finally trust Rhysand enough to rely on him to protect them and punish those who hurt them.
Devlon just laughed in her face, and that somehow made Cassian mad. He didn't know why he was feeling like this. He had this uncontrollable need to protect her and to make her like him. It was the first time he ever felt like this.
"Do you mean the little princeling and his two bastards? They don't give fuck about some useless woman like yourself"
"Sadly to inform you, Lord Devlon," cassian said mockingly, "but we surely give fuck, so i suggest you to step back and let that woman be"
Cassian flared his wings to make himself the bigger threat in this situation and stepped in front of you. While the two men in front of you had their own silent battle, you couldn't help but admire Cassian.
You knew who he was. Who wouldn't know him? Yet you never seen him. Yeah, you heard stories about how he looks, but your imagination could never come up with the god that stands in front of you. His tan skin. The way his muscles flexed under his leathers. And his wings? They had little scars all over them, yet you couldn't help but admire them. They were so strong. True to his reputation, these were the wings of warrior.
He slowly turned around and you couldn't see his strong back and wings, which was slightly disappointing to you, but the moment you were met with his strong chest you wished for him to never turn around. Everything about him looked so right and hot. You looked up and saw Cassian grinning at you.
,,you alright there, sweetheart?"
Your heart started beating uncontrollably fast, and you swear that it could be heard on the other side of the Windhaven. You couldn't look away from his Hazel eyes. It was like they were holding you in their mercy and weren't planning on letting you go. Yet you still needed to answer him, to hear his voice again.
"I-" before you could finish your sentence something snapped between you two.
,,mate"
357 notes · View notes
215-luv · 2 years
Text
HQ BOYS ADORING YOU
KUROO: “who’s the best person in the world?” your boyfriend teases with a smirk on his face, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as he stares at you adoringly—and it’s so obvious—the way he looks at you will never go unnoticed by anyone as he gazes at you as if you’re the only precious thing in the world. he tucks a strand behind your ear and his eyes seem to glimmer even more, “look at you, i can’t believe you’re actually mine.”
OIKAWA: “my sweetheart,” he coos, mumbling out his compliments to you against your neck that’s followed by soft pecks of lingering kisses, and he breathily chuckles everytime he does so, as if he’s been struck by cupid’s bow each second he’s in your presence. “my sweet angel.”
SAKUSA: “you know,” his words come out in a low murmur as one of his hands find place on the side of your head, letting his thumb gently rub itself against the softness of your skin. “you’re the best thing that has happened to me.” he admits, and a rare smile forms on his face as he lets his eyes find art upon your features.
AKAASHI: “i’ll tell you a secret.” he whispers on the side of your ear as you lay on him with your back pressed against his chest. you sense his lips nearing your ear, his warm breath sending shivers through your spine. “i think, i’m inlove with you. too inlove. but maybe not just too inlove, maybe i’m actually head over heels for you, knees weakened, heart beating rapidly, fingers itching to hold yours—or maybe it’s just that i love you too much that words couldn’t measure how much i love you to the bottom of my heart. and i think i could never stop myself from adoring you even more.” he whispers with a smile gracing upon his features, teasingly blowing on your ear with softness. “that’s my secret.”
ATSUMU: everytime he looks at you, he couldn’t stop the lovesick grin forming upon his face. you watch as he bites back the obvious smile, his upper teeth fighting its’ place as it digs itself on his bottom lip, and he could only apologize half heartedly as he buries his face onto the pillows while his hand remains on your cheek. his chuckles come out in a muffle and he feels his heart beating rapidly while you just lay there bewildered upon his questionable state. he takes a peek of you on one eye as half of his face remains buried against the pillow, and now, he couldn’t stop the grin on his face that has his teeth showing as he laughs, “god, sorry baby. you’re just so adorable it’s unbelievable. it’s actually unbelievable how someone like you is laying on my arms right now.”
BOKUTO: “you’re mine right?” he asks with a smile on his face as his arms tighten its’ hold around you. he’s being extremely giddy and clingy with you while he places playful pecks all over your face. “yes, you’re mine!” he unashamedly answers his own question in a cheer, nuzzling his cheek against yours as he pulls you against his body impossibly closer that leaves no gap between you two.
YAMAGUCHI: “you know, you make me feel scared sometimes,” he admits solemnly, his eyes drifting to look at anything but you as a sad smile appears upon his face. “i’m scared that you’ll leave me someday, in which everyday i pray that i’m good enough for you so you’ll only have to look at me and not anyone else.” he says, and after a moment, he finally has the courage to let his eyes drift to gaze upon you, eyeing you with so much affection yet sadness while his hold on your hand tightens even more as if he’s afraid to let you go. he leans closer to you and he gives you a soft peck on your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a while as his next words come out in a murmur, “that’s how much you mean to me honey.”
IWAIZUMI: he stares at your sleeping state in silence, finding comfort in the way you’re under his arms in the middle of the night as he couldn’t seem to have any plans of sleeping when you’re this beautiful under his gaze. a tiny smile graces upon his face while he intakes every feature of you. and soon enough, he couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping from his lips that leaves him to lean down to land a soft peck on the side of your head with a smile, “god, you’re the only person to make me feel this way. what the hell are you doing to me?”
USHIJIMA: couldn’t help but keep staring at you with eyes that speak more than words. his gaze never leaves you when you move at one place to another. and when you question him of his actions, he blinks at you for a moment, keeping silent. and then he finally, stoically reveals with a rare blush on his face, “i just think you’re very alluring that i couldn’t find myself to take my eyes off of you. i apologize, was i perhaps making you uncomfortable?”
KENMA: he comes to a point where he couldn’t hold himself back from being clingy for you. constantly, when he’s initiating physical contact with you he’ll tell out trivial statements such as “you’re so warm, i don’t mind using your lap as my own pillow” or “your hands. they’re nice. i should keep holding them so people can avoid touching it.” and whenever you try to contradict to his statements, he’ll only shoot back with a “but they’re mine. i thought you already knew i don’t like sharing what’s mine?”
8K notes · View notes
coralinnii · 24 days
Note
Congrats on 2.7k followers!! You deserve it! :D For the event, may I request Malleus, Azul, Jade and Floyd with a gentle giant S/O? As you can already guess, S/O is super tall (you can change this detail if you’d like, but perhaps they’d even be noticeably taller than Malleus?) and maybe even kind of intimidating because of it, but they’re very friendly, quiet, and gentle. 
Again, congratulations on your achievements!! Keep up the great work you’re doing 🥳
‧₊˚✧ My Statuesque Sweetheart ‧₊˚✧
Tumblr media
↳ Tall Gentle Giant/Reader
feat: Malleus ❋ Azul ❋ Jade ❋ Floyd genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, I love beluga whales (it’ll make sense in Jade’s ver.),
Sooo…being someone that can’t relate to being tall :I, I went around to ask some of my taller friends to know what’s that like, so this took longer cuz of research. I also got into Genshin to prep for another prompt someone asked me and dang, do I gotta research on that too.
Similar prompt: Tall!reader who loves hugs
2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023
Tumblr media
You were certainly a surprise to him. In his long years, rarely does he find people where he doesn’t have to tilt his head down for once.
Despite your height, you were as cute and friendly as a woodland creature, a contrast to Malleus who exudes regal power without much effort. He’s fascinated by you as your stature can command the room yet your energy has a rather soothing effect on him and those around you. 
Man is saying you have zero scary dog energy, and that is adorable to him.
If you’re the affectionate type, congratulations! You’d be one of the few to be able (and allowed) to reach his horns. What started as curiosity soon became a habit as you made it your love language to care and clean Malleus’ iconic features. As a bonus, everytime you are done it’s fun to lay your head gently upon Malleus’, between his horns which catches him off guard no matter how often it happens. 
Having a tall man with money certainly has privileges as you now have access to his personal tailor as well. Was there a pair of pants you really like but it only reached your ankles? Not anymore, let the royal tailor deal with that and add some matching accessories to that. 
However you feel about your height, you are a sublime creature of beauty to Malleus. When he looks up to you smiling at him with the shining moon behind you highlighting your tall outline, he hasn’t seen anyone more otherworldly than you. 
You stand out amongst every human I have encountered. Hm? Ah, I do not refer to your stature but rather… the way you effortlessly capture my attention and ensnare my thoughts with visions of you.
Tumblr media
Azul being around an incredibly tall person? What else is new? Azul doesn’t feel all that insecure about his height, before or after meeting you.
Well, you’re definitely the most pleasant person he knows that towers over him, at least. He knows that many, him included, would use your sort of stature as an advantage over others. Instead, he likes your rather sweet nature and way of conduct. 
If you have stretch marks due to your rapid growth spurts, Azul would feel absolutely touched if you trusted him enough to show it. Azul would genuinely praise your resilience to may have been an aching and painful experience to go through. If you let him, he could create a potion to get rid of the marks if it truly makes you insecure, but he finds you beautiful no matter what. 
Watch him flinch and get flustered anytime you wrap your arms around him, smothering him with your taller form. You would laugh to see him so easily out of sorts if you press your weight onto him. He can handle it of course, but the heat of your all-encompassing hugs is vastly different from his time in the cold sea. 
Azul would provide certain things that would suit your needs that others may overlook. Suddenly, you would find blankets that can cover you entirely, or you were gifted a coat that is actually a long coat that doesn’t awkwardly cut off at a weird length on you. Mirrors in Azul’s private room are always suspiciously up to your eye-level whenever you visit. 
He’s happy to know that you see him as someone reliable regardless of that. He has an interesting way of showing his appreciation
Do you like the new decor of the Mostro Lounge? The new additions are quite beautiful and eye-catching. The tall but dazzling designs were inspired by you, after all.
Tumblr media
Oh my. What a sight to behold, you are. 
Jade doesn’t seem like the type to brag about his advantageous height, but he is aware that not many can reach his stature and even fewer actually pass him in that regard. 
He still treats you as courteously as he always does, even more so as the two of you start to grow closer. 
A nice bonus about having a tall boyfriend is that most of the things in his room are perfect for you! Beds you can fully stretch out in, actual full-length mirrors that don’t make you bend down, and furniture that doesn’t require you to squish yourself into. Jade’s (and Floyd’s) has become one of your favorite places to visit.
He does find it amusing that some people may find you intimidating because of your height as he knows that you were far from any definition of that word. Jade would chuckle to himself whenever he sees you getting happy or excited, like watching a playful beluga whale squeaking in joy. Your gentle features and bright smile shines through any misconceptions of your intimidating form. 
Though not quite used to it, Jade doesn’t mind having to crane his neck to meet your gaze. Especially not when he could watch your adorable quizzical expression as he asked you to lower your head to him, only to whisper teasing words into your ear. He especially finds it fun to watch you jump to your full height in flustered surprise, even occasionally bumping your head on a hanging decoration. 
Really, how could he resist you? 
Do you need rest, my love? Perhaps a cup of tea can soothe your aches and joints while you sit.
Tumblr media
Oh, Floyd would have no issues with you being taller than him. Probably the opposite, really.
Don’t @ me but I fully believe Floyd has a thing for legs, be it his own or others. He’s so fascinated by these human features that you may even catch him blatantly staring appreciatively at your legs. 
“What’s the big deal? They’re right there, who can blame me?”
He will however, with full confidence, laugh his lungs out if you hit your head on the door frame or trip on an ottoman seat you didn’t notice. Maybe he’ll rub the ouchie away but he’ll be laughing while he does.
Be prepared for impromptu fashion shows with custom made shoes to show off your gorgeous mile-long legs. Floyd could spend hours looking through online shopping with you, showing you websites that specifically cater to tall drinks of water like yourself.
This man will be floored by the experience of being the little spoon of a hug. To be able to lean into your arms and rest his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while you  lovingly pat his hair? You can be unknowingly smothering him and he’ll be loving every moment of it. 
Regardless if you’re confident or not, Floyd loves to take you dancing. If you’re not confident in your dancing, Floyd is more than happy to lead you with every beat until you have fun. The man just loves to see the flashing lights paint your body, with your smile being the brightest of them all.
Did you get taller, Shrimpy? Aha ha, just pulling your leg there! Though, wouldn’t make a difference to me. You’re still a hottie even if you, hehe!
303 notes · View notes
seventhcallisto · 5 months
Text
PROLOGUE
—Deep Down.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Toc/cw; scenting. omega in heat. talk of s3x. featuring alpha g-idle. Language. Mature Content! Talk of gender, sex, and the weird system that a/b/o roles have, including the terrible hierarchy system. It's my series so I make my own rules, period!
Tumblr media
Never, absolutely never, does a person get their second sex when they're born. It's no surprise they get it towards puberty, yet the majority of times, heats or ruts do not start happening until they're in their late teens- early twenties. Betas never went through that issue. They hardly ever were considered more than peace makers. For a while, they were the least chosen. While not as valuable as an alpha or as wonderful at comforting like an omega. There was still some dull middle ground. They weren't that special.
That was only for a bit, anyway. Eventually, omegas took that spot, lower on the hierarchy, whilst betas gained the middle place. You didn't agree with the system, though. It doesn't matter your second sex. It matters how you hold yourself, how you go about through life with a second sex.
And you stood by that for decades.
You took hold of a company and shaped yourself to fit their mold. Although a foreigner in this strange city, following a dream you didn't know you could grasp, you still went for it. You molded yourself to fit whatever they wanted. A calm, level-headed, peace-maker, beta. With a heart of fire and determination that'll set a field ablaze. You worked your ass off. Getting up as early as possible. Practicing. Making something of yourself. Training yourself. Learning the language.
Someone who could make even the quietest of omegas open up, and the loudest of alphas silent. You were a patient and composed person.
And when you came out on top, the very top, unreachable and untouchable, you knew you maxed out your potential. It was only then that you let it slip from your hands and into the grasp of another. You let them see what you could do, and now it was their turn.
They took it with stride. Quickly, you found yourself linked to a group you'd be a part of for life. You were surprised, to say the least.
"It smells like testosterone in here," you grimaced.
Eventually, you did get used to the stench of 8 alphas. Soon enough, you could actually smell their undertones. A mix of everything drowns every corner of the apartment you live in with them.
You were fairly the least popular in the group by a good amount. Sometimes, you chalked it up to people being oblivious. It never hurt you, why would it? You're a rare gem. Sometimes, it needs a light shined on it to really sparkle.
It's years later of cleaning up after messy alphas and teaching yourself tricks to get used to their behaviors, that you suddenly notice a difference in yourself.
"Hey, you smell different," seonghwa scruches his nose, a pleasantly surprised look on his face. You slip your shoes off in the doorway, closing it behind you. "New perfume," you reply, half hazerdly, sliding your keys into the key bowl. "I thought you liked your own scent?" He comes over and helps you with the handbag in your arm.
You hand it over to the taller guy, slipping your mask down your face. "I'm starting to stink, so i changed my perfume scent. Maybe your guys' stench is making me allergic, or I'm getting sick." You sigh tiredly when he hangs your jacket up in the closet. "No, not sick. I know what you smell like when you're sick," seonghwas eyebrows scrunch.
"You smell.. sweeter.. have you been hanging out with any omegas lately?" He questions, folding his arms over his chest. His white sweater is rolled up his arms, and his black pants hang loosely. Surely, if seonghwa is to lounge around, he's gonna do it with style. You laugh, avoiding his eyes when he catches you looking him up and down. "Ha, yeah, actually. I'm helping Kimmie prep for her heat. She plans to have a couple of mini devils running around this summer. Can you believe it?" You scoff, mentioning your long time once-trainee close friend who you grew attached too.
"Kimmie with kids, I would have never thought," you mumble under your breath, years ago you would of scoffed at the idea of young- impressionable kimmie, mature enough to consider having kids with her beta husband whom you also knew to be a trainee from before. Are you really getting that old? Seonghwa stares for a couple of seconds. His piercing eyes guide you up and down. You're staring back now. Seonghwa doesn't flinch. "Right, let's hope kim is ready for that," he laughs, and just like that, the tension breaks.
You both shuffle into the living room. Calling it a night.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Not even two days later, you're on the couch scrolling mindlessly on your phone whilst you wait for the guys to get dressed. The practice video for one of your group songs is soon. You've only been able to practice by yourself up until that point.
Yeosang takes a seat next to you, pushing you into his side. The alpha gently taps your leg to gain your attention. "What's up?" You put your phone down, giving him your full attention. "My scent is wearing off on you," he almost pouts. You smile, turning towards him and opening your arms. "Okay, c'mere." You beckon his face into your neck. Afterward, you let him take the lead.
It takes two seconds for you to realize he's not scenting you anymore. He didn't even start. "Yeosang?" You call out, threading your fingers on the back of his neck hairs. He hums, and it sounds so far away. His scent grows heavier. "You okay?" You attempt to pull back. he chases your neck. You can hear him breathing heavily, struggling to catch his breath after every strong inhale. His soft hand snakes around your neck, gently leaning your head the opposite way so he can get more room.
You follow, cause you trust your pack member. You can feel his mouth part, his lips drawing closer to your pulse. Your eyebrows furrowed. What are you doing? Obviously, something is up. You pull away from yeosangs grasp. Backing up just a bit. You put a hand to his chest to distance yourself. It's a few seconds before yeosang seems to come back, his foggy eyes focusing. "Sorry, I.. you smell really different lately," he admits, twisting his fingers in his lap.
"How so?" You question him. "Like.. sweeter. I can smell it linger, deep down under our scents I can smell.. an omega," he admits, his eyebrows twitch down. You haven't been to Kimmies house since seonghwa asked, yet you've completely washed and cleaned yourself of her scent entirely. You don't know what to say.
"Well," you fold your legs into your lap. "I think I might be coming down with something, I changed my perfume. It could be that, too?" You can't tell if you're reassuring yourself or yeosang. He hums. His eyes search your front, glancing up at you and then down to your neck where your scent glands are. "Could you wear one of my shirts for practice? I didn't get to properly scent you, and it'd make me feel better. " his tone is more of a demand yet hes still a little shy with it. Behind his eyes, you can see the strange look he casts aside.
You smile wearily. "Sure."
Yeosang had picked a black shirt he wore very often. It took him a hot minute, but by the time you watched him go through everything in his closet, the guys were done and slipping on their shoes. Once he was satisfied with his choice, he handed it to you. A shirt that would be tight fit for yeosang hanged off you. The deepest scents you can pick out are cocoa butter and honeyed citrus, like lemonade. There's the distant scent of strong tea. The cocoa butter blends well into his scent, perfectly layered. Perfectly yeosang.
You took a deep enhale, liking the freshness of his smell. Not noticing the satisfactory smile on yeosangs face, you slipped off into his bathroom and exchanged your shirt for his. Leaving yours behind. Once you came out, you were surprised to still see him there. His scent is everywhere in this room, heavier than normal.
His eyes look your form up and down. You give a tiny spin, smiling awkwardly. Finally, his eyes meet yours, clouded with an unknown emotion. It's a few seconds of silence. You never break off eye contact.
"We're gonna be late!" Hongjoong shouts out from the front door. His voice echoes in the hallway, leading to yeosangs' room. Yeosang smiles, looking away. He makes haste to the door and leaves you. You let the breath out you were holding. What was that?
Practice takes a hard minute to start, the coolness of the room makes it easier to warm up. You're not sweating when you begin repeating steps, adjusting what you deem unfinished or sloppy. Not long does the heat kick into the room. You find yourself removing your hoodie.
"Let's get started" the manager hits the button on the camera, beginning the recording. Your eyes follow your own movement. All of ateez has said you're the ace of the group, in everything you do it seems well-executed. You doubt that sometimes.
Every move and every breath is conditioned from years of practice everyday 'til you couldn't feel your legs. Sometimes you'd go as far as to even run, dance, and jump in terrible stilletos. Which worked out in the end since the majority of the time you'd have to wear heels or platforms to match the height of the guys during every event and performance.
Sweat pools on your collar, your neck, and your forehead as you work across the room. You can smell every one of the guys as they pass around you, a flurry of scents clog your senses. You try to focus on the choreography.
You tried until your shoulder slams into someone, throwing you off balance and onto the hard wood floor. Your elbow bounces off the wood. You slide to a stop quickly. "Fuck!" you curse at the sting in your leg, hip, and ankle. The room grows extremely quiet, the music stops as quickly. Mingi bends down to your level, shock still evident on his face. "Sorry! shit, my bad, are you okay?" He reaches for your head.
"Ow" you whine, like actually whine, instead of brushing it off like you normally would. Touching your elbow. You both simultaneously notice the blood dripping off your elbow. "Why aren't you watching where you're going!?" Yunho walks up to mingi. Mingi stands up from next to you. "I didn't do it on purpose!" Mingi defends, his jaw clenches. The two stare daggers, a tense standoff so sudden you don’t know truly if you falling is the cause of it or if something else is at play. Hongjoong steps forward to stop them. A heated discussion begins.
Wooyoung and San stand back, Jaws clenched, at any moment they look ready to pounce. Yeosang stands with Seonghwa and Jongho, who look just as concerned about the growing argument, yet their faces murge into something completely different at the smell in the air.
It's something no one can put their finger on.
Your ever growing weirdly sweet scent is surprising to even you, your gut twists in an unsettled way. You don't look at their faces, trying to understand the smell and your sudden shift. What the hell is going on with you?
"Boys, out in the hallway now, please" Jongsik. The manager you've had for years steps forward. As the oldest in the room take charge, the guys looked challenged. "What about her!?" Yunho shouts out, fustrated. In the distance another aurgument begins. Mingi squats back down to your level, gently pulling your attention back to him with his hands on either side of your face. "it's not that bad, yeah? It's alright?" He wants to reassure you. "Mingi" you practically whine, pulling at his wrist. The smell of harsh and swirling emotions makes your nose scrunch, it's intense and somewhat intoxicating.
You're dizzy.
Jongsik stands firm. "Out!" He repeats himself pointing to the practice room door. He reaches for mingi's shoulder. He who pushes the older man off, standing abruptly.
Hongjoong, the pack leader, is the one that rounds up the boys and pushes them out, even mingi. Before he shuts the door. He looks at you. He's so tempted to just run back in, coddle you and wrap your elbow in bandages. Yet he closes the door anyways.
There's no defiance or whining from you. because jongsik is a beta, and already mated. He's taken on a fatherly role to you when he pulls you to your feet. "I don't feel good.." You slur. Placing a hand on your head.
"Hey, it's gonna be alright. We're gonna get you to the hospital, alright?"
Tumblr media
You lay on an examination bed, squirming by yourself. Anxiously you wait twirling your hand around the bandage on your elbow.
"This is something we've never seen before." With your heightened hearing, you can feel they're talking about you.
"She showed signs of being a beta for years. How could something like this happen so suddenly? It's impossible." Whispers echo in your mind.
What the hell is going on?
"Hello," a doctor, also a lady, steps in. her face is covered with a mask. "I'm Dr Liana." You try to focus, but the ache in your stomach is distracting. "It seems to have been there for a while, most likely due to continuous, omega activities, from what my colleagues and I have assumed."
"Have you been noticing anything different from your usual routine?"
You recount what you can, anything you find weird yourself. And there's so many clues, like when you stole each hoodie and wore it from everyone for a week straight just because 'you wanted too'. Or how touchy you've been recently especially with hongjoong, your pack leader. The scent change, the continuous need to please your members and let them have their way lately.
How you, oh God, how you've started collecting everyone's clothing in your closet, you called it a clothing pile. It's a nest. You've been nesting.
You've been not so subtlety feeding this hunger within you.
Realization has dawned on you for the first time in a month. And after a few more tests, you've spent a total of two days in the hospital.
Once you're out, you're immediately escorted to a heat sanctuary. A common locked and secure place for omegas going into heat.
"What I'm hearing is you're about to go into heat. It'll be a difficult process for you considering you're a beta turned omega, and it's fairly late for you to be getting your first heat, but I'm sure there's plenty of options for you."
Tumblr media
There were plenty of other options, yet you opted for the least embarrassing and least dreadful one. It was too late to take heat suppressants. Now, you're stuck in a somewhat luxurious hotel room with glorified room service and plenty of meds to sedate you for a week or less. They're actually so you can't feel the actual pain that comes with a heat without having a knot to sedate the feeling. If you really hoped you could sleep it off, you'd be dead wrong.
The specific question of; "do you have anyone in mind that could take care of you during your heat?" Really lingered. You thought about it. Maybe more than once, but you turned it down. No way. Nooo wayyyy. You wouldn't dare go past the first pack of alphas your mind landed on. Wouldn't even touch that book or open it in your minds eye.
Everything is very sensitive for the first day. You sweat a ton. You feel like you've lost weight, although you eat when you're not... 'foggy'. You feel the sweat pool at every corner of your temporary bed.
Anything you can get your hands on you pull, hard, and rip and tear. A pile of blankets and pillows are strewn on the floor in one giant large pile. Every once in a while you'll come back to your senses and childishly get upset at what you're doing.
No you've got nothing against omegas. You just didn't ask to be one, so therefore you're mad about being one.
Once satisfied, you spraw out and get to working on yourself with whatever you can, clothes and all. Toys. Plugs. Lube. You would have never guessed you'd end up this way. You name it, and they have it. They say there's nothing more satisfying than a knot, yet you don't enjoy the idea of what comes after. Pups? Ew. Is there even anything to counteract that? How do people just sleep with a stranger during a heat and not feel scared about what will happen in the moment? There's nothing wrong with it. It's just not your particular cup of tea.
As a beta, or.. when you were one, it wasn't very hard to find someone to hook up with. Betas have the abilities to hook up with anyone, alphas, omegas, and other betas. Although pregnancies and knotting aren't as easy for betas(you're not a big fan of wrapping it) it'll work eventually if tried enough. There's this middle ground for betas who can have it all. Relationships get difficult when you aren't as drawn to each other as an alpha and omega are, but with patience, it'll work.
There's this gross scent lingering under your skin, you can still smell the scent of your old skin, the beta you once were is suddenly being washed away by a sweet, tropical smell, an omega in full bloom. It's your second day. Yet you couldn't get more miserable. Two or three more days of this? Seriously.
You've never been a girly girl, begging for your way or kissing up to get it. You were commonly told you were a tomboy growing up. Maybe that played its role on your first designated sex. Your company pushed that role, too. Tough girl act. Rapper, Dancer. Never the face of the group. But you weren't complaining. You were the top of top trainees. Nothing could beat you down.
Yet, dressing up in baggy clothes and never looking sexually appealing was your role in the group. Tomboy rapper. Compared to the beginning of fourth gen, you were considered a girl crush but nothing else. least lines, least screen time, least roles. I mean. You trained for this, right?
Now you're stuck with a new second gender you didn't ask for. Pushing you farther behind the scenes. Just your luck.
Tumblr media
As soon as your first heat ends. You realize you weren't as bad. Apparently, the first heat ever is the easiest. You're supposed to get worse. Seriously. Worse? God. You can't take this. You go to the only people you know won't make a big deal out of your new.. thing.
Soyeon places a hot cup of tea right in front of you. And you can smell the scent suppressant coming from the steam. "this is supposed to help?" You sniff at it warily, grimacing at the factory like smell.
"You came to us, at our dorm, smelling like the biggest ball of 'fuck me please', take it or leave it." She clicks her tongue at you, propped up on her bed. Minnie takes a seat opposite of you, as does shuhua. "You cant even smell me, you're on scent suppressants" you groan, swirling the tea. "How do yall cope." You sigh and chug the content of the large tea cup. Soyeon laughs, minnie grimaces, and despite having a shocked look, shuhua pumps her fist in encouragement.
You've come to the group of alpha women cause, well, they're your best friends. And they're the most encouraging about any and all supplements and suppressants. They've single handedly encouraged everyone you know to take suppressants. From the front door, you hear it open and close, stepping down the hallway comes yuqi and miyeon, who do a double take.
Yuqi takes a giant whiff, and her eyes bulge. "What happened to you!?" She coughs at the stench of omega. Something she doesn't find common in their room when you're around. Miyeon scoots to the side when Soojin pushes through with a cake of some sort and a tiny charcuterie board. She places it down in front of you. You can tell the alpha in her is desperately trying to please you.
"Somehow, our poor, once beta, girl friend has changed sex." Soyeon speaks through a bite of twizzlers. You don't comment at her choice of words. Yuqi and Miyeon scoot into the room, staring at their doting member.
"There you go." Soojin pats your head and takes a seat on the bean bag in front of you. "Thanks," you sigh, digging in. The cake, which soojin explains, is a long-lasting scent changer. Magic is baked into every bite.
As for the charcuterie board. It's just something to get you some protein with the lack of good supplements in your system. In her eyes, you've lost at least half of your body weight. You haven't. Yet she's still encouraging you to take care of yourself from such a rushed heat.
"Poor girl," miyeon sighs, "I've never heard of that happening to anyone before. How's that even possible?" She takes to removing her hoodie and placing it down properly. Yuqi shuffles off her bag. Plopping onto the bed next to you. "How'd the guys react?" She steals a piece of meat from your board.
"I haven't told them" you sigh, the room goes silent.
"That's fucked up" yuqi laughs. Miyeon slaps her ankle. "So we're the first to know?" Shuhua confirms, you nod. "Wow, I'm sure they'll be happy about that," soyeon laughs lightly. You tear your eyes off shuhua. "What do you mean by that?" You clearly speak, eyebrows pulled down. Minnie places a hand on your ankle to get your attention. "Well, we're your girl pack. We'll always be your girl pack." she looks nervous.
"But the last time I hung out with you, your boys stared at me like I was an intruder in their territory." she pats your ankle. Your eyebrows pull taunt. You want to defend them. "What? No way.." You truly think about it. "Whatever you say, your boys aren't as good as we are at keeping up with our contribution to not being alpha whores" soyeon sighs pushing to sit up. "Especially mingi, he's the whoriest of them all, he goes into rut every week it seems. He needs a heavy dose of rut suppressants." she takes another chunk off her twizzler.
"You shouldn't feel obligated to tell them first. Butt.. you shouldn't be surprised when they get upset about you telling us first." The girls all nod. You fall back onto soyeons pillows. A puff of sandal wood and cinnamon surrounds you. Slowly dying down as the tea takes its hold on your heightened senses. "Maybe I should have thought this through," you rub at your eyes.
"You're always welcomed here." soojin clears your mind, patting her hand against your hip in a friendly gesture. "This won't change anything. You're still my- our best friend," soojin speaks on behalf of the girls. Everyone hums to confirm.
"Thanks," you say genuinely. "It's a bit late for you to get a drive all the way home, What'd the company say to the guys?" Miyeon perks up from the edge of the bed. "Something about me needing medical evaluation. I'm pretty sure they think I'm still in the hospital." Yuqi scoots up next to you. "Did you check your phone?"
You didn't even think about it, pulling it from your pocket. You try to power it on. "No, everything was rushed. I didn't have a chance to check anything before I had to give it up so I wouldn't expose the place I was at." The screen doesn't light up. It's completely dead.
"It's dead," you pass it to soojin, who already had her hand out to take it. She plugs it into soyeons charger. "Well, I guess you're stuck here." Shuhua and yuqi topple on top of you, squishing you into the mattress.
"Sleepover!"
Tumblr media
The next morning, you wake up sore. Not because of anything the girls did but because of such a long trial of whatever you did to yourself in the haze of heat. You groan when you shift your hip, burying yourself closer to the center of the makeshift bed you made in the living room.
The night was full of movies and being doted on by every one of the girls. Things aren't supposed to change because of your new sex, and that's remained true. They just baby you a little bit more than usual. "Shuhua, 'mega! Come eat! Now!" Minnie yells from the kitchen. The nickname startles you, something you've never heard before is somewhat pleasent to your ears. There's stomping towards the living room. Your head slams back down onto the pillow, pretending to sleep.
"I know you're awake." yuqis smile can be heard through her words. You can't help the prying of your lip. "Nu-uh," you grin, eyes still closed. "Get up!" She jumps on you, pulling you into a suffocating hug that she wiggles around in. You laugh and pull her equally as close. After the struggle of a couple of seconds, your exhaustion returns. Your arms fall limply around her waist.
"You doing alright?" She asks, picking herself up and off of you so you can breathe. "Yeah, I just tired myself out this week." you laugh, embarrassed. "Don't worry," shuhua perks her head up from the couch next to you. "You should have heard when yuqi had her first rut," shuhua laughs menacingly, yuqi springs up. "Shut up!" She yells. "She wouldn't stop! All night and day! We had to quarantine the whole top floor!" Shuhuas words stop on occasion when yuqi is wrestling to cover her mouth. You laugh at them.
"Hey," soojin stands over, ignoring her members. "Hi," you smile back. "Hungry?" She lends you her hand, pulling you up off the floor. "Starved," you take it, embracing her rose filled scent.
A platter of delicious food is placed right in front of you. Breakfast in their apartment is somewhat new to you. You've never really been able to stay long when you visit. Maybe you're starting to realize the guys have a stronger hold on you than you thought. Speaking of the guys. As soon as you finish your plate, Soojin places your phone down in front of you. The screen is still black, signaling she hasn't turned it on.
"You're gonna want to answer your boy toys before they stalk you down themselves," soyeon gestures. She's not wrong.
You power your phone on and let it reboot for a second. Yuqi is still eating with shuhua, talking to miyeon and minnie about something you don't pay attention to. Your phone makes a continuous notification sound when all of your messages pop up.
104 missed messages. 32 missed calls.
You're in deep shit.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @0325tiny @bratty-tingz @lelaleleb
(Thank you for reading ♡)
481 notes · View notes
7ndipity · 2 months
Text
False Pretenses
fwb!Jungkook x Reader
Summary: Just how fair does the ‘benefits’ aspect between Friends with Benefits actually extend? Based on this meme.
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: crack to fluff, suggestive moments and ending, swearing, Jk has side by side washer/dryer units cause it’s funnier, reader’s referred to as ‘Ma’am’, not proofread
A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me soo long to get to, I hope you’ll still like it tho! (I’ll also be posting a couple more pieces with this pairing in the next couple weeks, so keep your eyes peeled if you liked this)
Masterlist
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
It was the type of text you had gotten more than used to receiving from him over the past few months, smirking down at your phone as you waited for the elevator in his building.
“Need you so bad rn. Come over?❤”
The heart was a new addition, he must be feeling particularly needy today, you thought to yourself as the elevator doors finally opened.
Since the two of you had established this new part of your friendship, it was rare for you to go more than four or five days without receiving some variation of the same short message from him.
You were still slightly surprised by his text, seeing as you had only been over the night before, but you weren’t complaining by any means. Though you may have enjoyed pretending that Jungkook was the needier one in your arrangement, if you were completely honest, you were just as affected by him, finding yourself missing him on the nights you didn’t spend together.
When he opened the door, you noticed he looked a little more disheveled than usual, his hair sticking up all over the place, as if he’d been running his hands through it, a habit you knew he did when he was stressed.
“You got here fast.” He noted, letting you into the apartment.
“Well, your text made it sound kinda urgent, didn’t want to leave you waiting too long.” You said, wandering through into the living room, slowing to a stop as you caught sight of the chaotic state of the space, cleaning supplies and laundry scattered around, furniture moved all out of place.
“What happened in here?” You asked, turning back to Jungkook, who was now avoiding your eyes. “Koo?”
“I lied, I didn’t want sex.” He said guiltily, looking up at you. “I need you to help me clean.”
“I-, what?” You blinked at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.
He slumped back against the counter, looking stressed as he ran his hand through his hair again. ”My parents decided to surprise me by announcing they’re coming to visit tomorrow, but I’ve done nothing but sleep since I got home from tour last week, so the house is a fucking mess and everything’s a disaster and I need help, please.” He pleaded, staring at you.
You immediately began pulling your coat back on, turning back towards the door. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Y/n, please!” He quickly followed after you, catching your sleeve. “I’ll do anything you want! I’ll buy you dinner, I’ll rub your back, I’ll even let you pick what we watch for a month!”
You paused, turning to look back at him with a raised brow. “Even if I want to re-watch ‘Our Beloved Summer’ for a third time?”
He bit lip, trying to fight back a pained grimace before nodding slowly. “Whatever you want.”
You stared at him for a long moment.
“Fine.” You said reluctantly, caving as you saw the genuine desperation in his eyes. You could never say no to him.
“Thank you!” He sang, catching you in a tight hug and spinning you around in a circle. “I promise I’ll make it up to you!”
“Yeah, whatever,” You grumbled as he set you back on your feet. “Where do we start?”
“Laundry room?” He offered. “It’s mostly done, I just need to vacuum behind the machines.”
Do you really think your mom’s gonna look back there?” You raised a brow, following him down the hall.
“She’s very thorough.” He said seriously.
“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “I don’t quite see why I’m necessary for this part though?”
“I was afraid if I tried to clean back there by myself, I’d slip and get stuck or die.”
“So you want me to slip and die behind your washer instead?” You shot him an accusatory look.
“No! I’ll hold onto you and keep you safe,” He smiled reassuringly. “You know, like the buddy system.”
“I thought the buddy system was for camping so you didn’t get lost or eaten by bears?”
“It’s a multi-purpose system!” He said, his earlier agitation starting to flare up again at your teasing. “Are you gonna help me or not?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it, pass me the vacuum.” You relented, boosting yourself up on top of the dryer.
He held onto your hips to keep you balanced as you cleaned, his mind beginning to wander as he stared at your ass, his fingers starting to slowly knead your flesh absent-mindedly.
“Koo.” You warned, shooting him a quick look.
“Right, sorry.” He snapped back to attention, ceasing his movements and focusing back on the task at hand.
You finished up quickly, passing the vacuum attachment back to him and letting him help you down.
“Thank you.” He said.
“You’re welcome.” You answered, looking around expectantly. “What’s next?”
The apartment wasn’t nearly as bad of a mess as he claimed it to be, but it still took both of you several hours of work to get everything back in order, finishing off with laundry and changing all the bedding.
“Why are these sticky?!” You asked, mildly horrified as you helped him strip the sheets off his bed.
“Relax, it’s just caramel sauce.” He said.
You looked up at him confused. “We didn’t use-?”
“No no, that was just me,” He explained quickly. “I had ice cream last night.”
“Without me?!” You said, clutching your chest in feign hurt, making him roll his eyes as he let out a huff of laughter.
“I’ll add that to the list of things I need to make up for, okay?” He said.
“Eh, it’s better than where my mind went.” You said, only half joking as you grabbed the fresh sheets from him and turned back to the bed. “Almost thought you were fucking around behind my back for a second there.”
Facing away from him, you missed the way his expression suddenly turned serious as he looked at you. “I would never.”
It was strange, despite the supposedly ‘casual’ nature of your arrangement, you both found yourselves making little comments like that, words and exchanges that sounded a lot more like things said between a committed couple, rather than just two friends helping each other out till you found something more serious.
“Alright, I think that’s everything.” You said, snapping him out of his thoughts. You had finished making up the bed, even turning down the covers for him.
“Thank you, y/n.” He said gratefully. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Probably called Hobi.” You smirked, making him snort.
“Now, you promised me food, and if you lie to me twice in the same day, I’m dumping your ass.” You said, earning another laugh from him.
“Alright, whatever you want, just like I said.” He said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.
“Although, if you wanted, I could make up for my false pretenses from earlier in a different way?” He offered, eyes darkening slightly as his hands drifted over your hips
You lightly shoved his hands away. “Not a chance, Loverboy, I’m way too tired now. You’ll have to try and ‘make it up to me’ some other time.”
“How about tomorrow?” He said, eyes twinkling mischievously, looping his arms around your waist instead to keep you close.
“I thought your parents were coming over tomorrow?” You reminded, raising a brow at him.
“You could come over after.” He suggested. “Hell, you could even come to dinner with us, my parents like getting to meet my friends.”
“Friends?” You looked up at him skeptically.
“Yeah, what?” He laughed, squeezing you lightly.
“Do you let your other friends suck your di-?”
“They don’t need to know the details of our relationship!” He said quickly, his face flushing slightly, making you snicker. “You’re still my friend, one of my best friends actually.” He added, in a soft tone.
The way he said it made your heart twist in a weird way, though you didn’t quite understand why.
“So?” He asked, staring down at you hopefully. “Will you come?”
You chewed your lip, considering. It felt like a really big commitment to meet his family, regardless of what your relationship was, but you tell it would mean a lot to him if you said yes.
“I’ll think about it.” You said finally.
He beamed.
“Thank you!” He said, leaning in to kiss you again, his lips lingering longer this time, tracing over yours lightly, making you shiver.
You pressed closer to him, hooking your arms around his neck as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue delve into his mouth as his hands grip on your waist tightened.
When you pulled back for air, his pupils were blown wide, eyes almost black as he stared down at you, breathing heavily.
“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, your breaths equally unsteady.
“But I thought you said-?”
“I changed my mind.” You cut him off, tugging at the fabric impatiently. “Shirt off, now.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn
331 notes · View notes
nostalgebraist · 25 days
Text
the light, and the glass
So there's this particular quality I have, as a fiction writer, and I have very little sense of how common or rare it is.
The quality is closely related to that famous Michaelangelo quip, about his sculptures being "already complete within the marble block":
The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.
This is how I feel, too, about my works of fiction. They feel like "real things" that "already exist," in some important sense, before I write them down -- or, indeed, before I even fully know what they contain.
So, for instance, if I haven't yet thought of an ending for a story I'm playing with in my mind, I nonetheless have a vivid sense that this particular story has an ending, and that this ending already is whatever it happens to be. It's only that I haven't managed to "see" it yet.
To clarify the point, consider the contrast between this thing, and two relatively familiar ways of thinking about how fiction gets made:
Conscious, goal-directed craft/artifice. Intending to write a Satisfying Plot in which each character has an Arc, the Story Beats follow logically from one another and are arranged with what is called Good Pacing, the proverbial Cat is Saved, etc., and "solving for" these desiderata in a conscious manner. Or, intending to create something much more outré and unsettling than all that -- but having some specific set of (outre, unsettling) intentions in mind, at the outset, and concocting/arranging the elements of your work in a conscious way guided by these intentions.
Free-wheeling, self-expressive "creativity." Just do whatever, man! Follow your bliss. The canvas is blank and anything is possible. Whatever you feel like putting into that empty space, go ahead and put it there. (The key thing being that, after "putting something there," you'll look and recognize something with origins in you, and your own whims and feelings at a particular moment.)
For me, though, the process of writing, and even of "ideating" (plotting, etc.), feels like a kind of transcription or channeling, as opposed to either of the above.
When I say "channeling," here, I don't mean that I have some actual, mystical belief in a supernatural object revealing itself through me. Not in the woo-woo sense anyway; whatever is really going on here, I am sure it "merely" involves the mechanics of the human mind, as implemented in the physical human brain and body.
But I do mean that it feels a lot like that. Like the story -- and not just the story part of the stories, but the whole thing, the "art object" -- has some real prior existence outside of me, first.
Like I am merely doing my best to "get it right," to be a perfect transmitter for the radio signal. To "do justice" to the "real thing," in the secondary act of writing words onto a page.
To be a courier who transports a valuable object from some originary otherworld into a place which happens to be called "existence" -- and to ensure, as much as possible, that it suffers no disfiguring scrapes during the journey.
----
I should say, though, that there's a lot of the "#1" above in my process too, the conscious-artifice thing.
Except... when I do that kind of thing, the intentions all come from the "real object," and my goal is to fill in whatever I can't see of that object so that everything I can see is preserved.
So: I will come to know, surely and indefeasibly, that the story must have some particular feature. (An event, a little moment, a character feeling a certain way at a certain time, even a specific turn of phrase.) Better to say: I know the story does have this feature. I see it in the marble.
But I can't see everything that's there, already, in the marble. And sometimes these glimpses-from-the-beyond are strange, inconvenient, difficult to "fit" into the current story (or perhaps into any story) in a natural-seeming manner.
And that's my task, when I'm doing the conscious-artifice thing: to take this collection of axiomatically-present glimpses, and build a structure around them into which they can "fit," naturally and even logically, just as if they were ordinary story-building-blocks like their neighbors, being placed here and there for ordinary story-reasons.
----
This has various implications. For one, it determines which kinds of writerly anxieties I suffer from, and which types leave me alone.
Like, I have virtually no self-doubt about my "ideas." About the overall, large-scale goodness-or-badness of the thing I'm creating. At least, not when considered "in principle," in an idealized sense that abstracts away from my actual capabilities as a guy who puts words on pages.
"Was this story, as a whole, a good idea?" is a question I find difficult to ask myself. Even when applied to smaller units, like specific plot points, this kind of question simply goes nowhere when I attempt to think about it. Insofar as my mind can cough up any answer, that answer looks like:
Yes
(after a moment, with mounting bewilderment) Yes, obviously -- how strange even to ask!
(after another moment, and as an afterthought) ...but if it weren't any good, is that really my business? It's not like I came up with it. I was asked to keep it safe and bring it into reality, and I take that duty seriously, but once it has reached its destination I wipe my hands of the matter. Don't shoot the messenger!
It's not, just, that I feel like the "real thing" "already exists." I also feel, always, that the real thing is... really good.
I deeply, thoroughly trust the Muse / Higher Power responsible for originally "making" this stuff. (To speak in relatively woo-woo terms, for ease and clarity.)
The Muse / Higher Power is a seriously skilled artist, much more so than little-old-me; if She makes any errors at all, they are not really mistakes, but "are volitional and are the portals of discovery."
And what's more, there is a sacred, unearthly gleam to the artifacts She makes, perhaps having something to do with that Fairyland, that place-other-than-"existence," in which they are originally made.
It feels like an honor to be designated as a courier for these enchanted things. Perhaps not a deserved honor -- on which more below -- but it's never the nature and value of the transported goods that I doubt.
(There is a definite sense of ritual to the thing that I do, here; a sense of connecting with some other place, definitively apart from our mundane here-and-now, and likewise more important/primary/etc. than the latter. Hence, perhaps, my tendency to not-write for long stretches, and then write in long sustained bursts for many hours at a time, which need a good deal of preliminary building-up-steam before they fully get going; it takes time to pierce, and then fully cross, the veil between worlds. And the various imprints of this stuff on the works themselves are not hard to see, once you're looking for them; they are of course especially transparent in TNC.)
All that being said, I do suffer persistently from a different anxiety.
When Michaelangelo said the thing about the sculpture "already complete within the marble block," he said it as... Michaelangelo.
As a famous, incontrovertibly masterful craftsman. Not a guy likely to suffer from doubts about his ability to put the chisel to the marble block, and reveal precisely that shape which was already there, inside.
But I'm not Michaelangelo. I'm not even sure I'm a good craftsman, much less a great one.
Certainly I've never conceived of myself in this way, even aspirationally. (Well, maybe I did in childhood and adolescence, but that was a very different thing from what I'm talking about now.)
I don't do what a person would do, if they wanted to be a Writer, and strove to be the best one they could. I don't, for the most part, practice my craft. I write because there's a Real Thing that only I can see, and it's not going to make into Existence any other way.
And since I don't write by habit or as practice -- since I only write at times when a Real Thing is in need of some incarnating-work, and I'm the only one around to do it -- I'm not exactly an ideal candidate for the job.
I am like a man who never especially wanted to be a sculptor, never practiced the trade, and was never more-than-ordinarily good with his hands, even... who is then, suddenly, struck with a very literal version of the experience Michaelangelo described.
Who, suddenly and inexplicably, begins to actually see a sculptural masterpiece lurking inside, whenever he looks at a faceless marble block.
What is our protagonist to do? Naturally, he will find a chisel, and begin chipping away. He will feel that these things need to be freed from their prisons, released and revealed to all the world, so that all the world can delight in them as he already does.
But he will be very aware of the unfamiliar way the chisel sits in his hand; of the way that hand trembles, and fails to meet the mark, and sometimes shaves off precious bits of what was really and originally a beautifully formed hand -- so that the hand, in the realized artwork, forever bears some oddity of shape which was not a part of what he saw inside the block, but only a consequence of his own shameful incompetence.
He will feel that his works, such as they are, are an odd mixture of amateurish craft and direct, divine inspiration. Insofar as he is Great, it will be because he has had Greatness thrust upon him, from without. He will feel, sometimes, that his successes have been obtained through a kind of cheating, not won fair-and-square.
And he will feel, always, a particular kind of (justified) impostor syndrome: an awareness that what he is doing, when he sits down before the marble block with the chisel in hand, is a very different sort of thing than what is usually called "sculpting," and what is being practiced by careful, hard-working aspirants just down the road, at the local workshop. The students there call themselves "sculptors," and our protagonist supposes he must call himself a "sculptor" too -- but he knows that behind this coincidence of language, a vast and strange chasm is hidden.
(I worry that this metaphor sounds flattering to me -- I am divinely inspired, they are merely toiling away and following the rules -- when I don't mean it that way at all.
In particular, note that there is nothing in our story to rule out some of the "real" sculptors down the road from also being visionaries who see the finished work in the block. Indeed, I got the metaphor from Michaelangelo, who was precisely this way.
I am only saying that all the conceivable configurations of craft/inspiration are in fact possible: just as it is possible to be skilled but uninspired, it's possible for inspiration to strike someone who lacks the capacity to fully realize its content. And that is how I feel, about my own attempts to create.)
----
When I was getting near the end of Almost Nowhere, and struggling with this kind of feeling, Esther would often reassure me by saying: "you are the light, and you are the glass it shines through."
In other words: you are a transmitter, and you are the source of the transmitted signal. Remember that in actual fact, the "real thing in the marble" came from your own little brain, just as much as the rest of it did. In actual fact, if there is a Muse and a Higher Power, it is really just an additional part of the same creature that holds the chisel, and worries over its trembling hand.
I did, indeed, find this very reassuring. And that's a funny thought, in a way! I imagine that for some people -- and indeed for me, in many other endeavours -- the same sentiment could easily have the opposite effect.
"It's all on you. It's all your responsibility. If any of it is bad, there's no one else to blame. If there is any 'Higher Power' at all, it is only the one inside you at all times, and not able to save you through unexpected intervention, from some true outside."
But I already believed, thoroughly, in the magical potency of the goods I was charged with transporting. If I was (somehow!) their maker, too, then (somehow!) the root of that glimpsed, alien magic was in me.
And so, perhaps, I could trust myself to ferry them into Existence without ruining, without even much dimming, the fairy-gleam from elsewhere that made them what they were.
217 notes · View notes
crowsoundsonly · 6 months
Text
a healing touch.
pair: loki x fem!healer!reader
word count: ~1.8k
summary: your magic is requested to help a certain prince.
warnings: nothing graphic! but injuries (bruises) and mentions of throwing up (which never actually happens); light kissing and unrealistic escalation at the end, i acknowledge but this was a completely self-indulgent fic.
a/n: i hope you guys like it !! i am such a SUCKER^tm for hurt/comfort and healing fics, so i think that you'll discover a reoccurring trope in a lot of my work lol.
Tumblr media
Finally settling in for the night, you slip out of your dress and into your nightgown, the cool breeze from your open window acting as a balm brushing against your aching temples. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. The events of the day play through your mind as you recall the various patients you helped to soothe their aches and pains.
You make your way to your bed and throw the covers back, ready for a night of pleasant dreams. While you know you should not, you indulge yourself in thoughts of the prince who keeps your secret attention. Loki hardly knows that you exist, but you are content in keeping your interest from afar. He has come to your nursing station a few times, seeking out your particular skill set as a healer, but his mother is practiced enough so he rarely calls for your help.
Laying back and resting your head on your pillows, your thoughts are interrupted by an urgent knock at the door. You shuffle out from under your sheets and pad your way to the door. Frigga Allmother stands on the other side of the wood, her eyes filled with concern.
“Your Highness,” you say as you bow slightly, surprised by the visit. You open your mouth to ask her why she has come, but you are interrupted before the words pass your lips.
“Your healing is requested,” she responds, sounding almost rushed, but she does not let on more concern than what you can see in her eyes. “Would you come with me?”
You find a pair of slippers and a robe at the end of your bed before you follow the queen through the hallways of the palace. She leads you silently to a green wooden door ornamented with a gold door knob.
She turns to you, finally explaining why you are needed. “Loki has been hurt. It is of his own making, and it is beyond my abilities to help. He is laying in his bed. Please do what you can.” And with that, she leaves you in front of the door, heart racing with nerves and confusion. You take a deep breath, then turn the knob.
Your heart leaps into your throat at the sight of the prince, curled up on his bed. His face is ghostly, his body having obviously gone into shock at the injuries he has suffered. Yet his injuries are what confuse you the most. There is no blood, no gashes, no obvious wounds except for the dark bruises that litter his pale skin. But they are everywhere. From his neck, all the way to the waistline of his pants, purple and black bruises mottle his skin.
Loki is so out of it that he does not even bother raising his head at the sound of your entrance. He simply stays curled up, the pain plain on his face. You glance around the room, then to his bathroom, looking for a bowl. You spot one made of gold and grab it before making your way to the prince in his bed. 
Crouching down beside him, you whisper, “Your Highness?”
At his title he stirs, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet yours.
 “I have been called in to help you. Is it alright that I touch you?”
He nods slightly as a shuddered breath escapes his lips. Your fingers skim over the bruises, prodding ever so slightly to see how severe they are and if there are any bones broken beneath them. You can see the swelling in some areas, and he sucks in a sharp breath when you touch a particularly swollen spot on his side. You can’t help but let out a sympathetic sigh.
“Your Highness, I will be using magic to help you. This does require me to press the injuries which can be very painful,” you pause, allowing him to process your words before continuing, “I have this bowl that I want you to hold, so if the pain is too much you can throw up in it, okay?”
He grimaces at the thought of the pain he will endure for the next hour as you use your magic, but he nods in recognition. 
“I am so sorry,” you whisper before beginning your work, the familiar tug of magic pulling at your fingers. 
You press a hand to his side to the area that is swollen the most, letting your magic seep beneath his skin. Loki lets out a groan and grips the sides of the bowl you offered him. You can see his teeth clench and grind as you continue to press, your magic mending the ribs broken beneath. 
Humming softly to yourself, you concentrate on your work, trying to not let yourself get distracted by the fact that you are touching the object of your affections as he lays shirtless in bed. But professionalism keeps your eyes in check, but it does not keep your cheeks from prickling with heat.
You continue your ministrations, taking a break after every few bruises that you quell to yellow. Loki has yet to do more than groan. He keeps his eyes screwed shut as you work which you are grateful for, as you do not think that you could bear being under the scrutinizing gaze of your patient.
You work your way over his body, walking around his bed and climbing to your knees behind him to touch his back. Strength is clear in his muscles, but he is not pure brawn as is his brother, Thor. Rather, Loki is lean and lithe yet coiled with power in more ways than one. After healing the bruises on his back, you run your fingers lightly over his spine, ghosting over his shoulder blades before you bridle your fingers and get back to your healing efforts.
The movement does not go unnoticed by Loki, and he has his wits about him enough to comment, “If only every touch of yours was as sweet as that.”
At his words, your body prickles with heat and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you breathe, grateful that he cannot see your face as you curse yourself for falling into temptation.
“It was a pleasant relief from the pain,” he sighs, turning over to lay on his back, carefully stretching and twisting. His face pulls into a grimace as he is not yet healed completely. You duck your head, avoiding his eyes and leaving the comment hanging in the air. 
Still situated on your knees beside him, you move your hands to his lower stomach, pressing and prodding. You can hear his breath hitch and become ragged, but you push your face closer to him in an effort to ignore how his body reacts to your touch. This only makes the situation worse, so you close your eyes entirely, concentrating your magic on healing the injuries that lie below his skin.
You slide your palm over his torso to his side that had been previously hidden to you when he was laying on it. The bruises there are not nearly as dark as the ones you have already treated, so they do not take long to ease into shades of green. At this point, you are leaning over him entirely, your breath hitting his exposed skin, and you can hear him throw his head back on his pillows, sighing softly.
“Your Highness, I am nearly finished,” you say, more for your own sake than his, knowing that you need to get as far away from him as possible as soon as possible. 
Your hand lifts from its place on his side, your fingertips ghosting over his chest to find the bruise on his collarbone. Before you can make it there, Loki’s hand grips your wrist, halting all movement in you. Your eyes flash to his that are stricken with pain but mixed with gratitude. 
He breathes your name as he guides your hand to his neck, fingers skimming down your arm as he watches your face. His other hand comes to guide yours to his stomach, his palm pressing yours flat against him. 
“Loki,” you whisper, sure that he is confused and letting his pain govern his emotions. “There are more.”
He shakes his head, and says, “Leave them. You have done more than enough.”
You nod and shift to slide off the bed, but his hands flash to your thighs, dragging one over his hips. You know that you should stop him, stop touching him, and leave. But you are drawn to him, craving the feeling of touching his skin to do more than heal but to please.
“Loki,” you say again, a hint of warning in your tone, but he reads through it, finding the desperation in your breath.
“Touch me again,” he says, guiding your hands again to skim over his skin, feeling over every faded scar and groove of muscle.
“I shouldn’t,” you whisper, but he just shakes his head, dismissing you, leaning into your touch.
“I’m asking you to.”
You let out a shaky breath as you curl your fingers to drag your nails over his chest. This elicits a groan from the prince beneath you, and you can’t help but feel triumphant that your touch has an effect on him. You dare to lean down and touch him with more than your hands, your lips skimming over the skin of his neck.
Loki sucks in a sharp breath at this and turns his head to give you more access, encouraging you to keep going. Your lips find purchase on his collarbones, and you feel your magic tugging at you as your lips press into his bruise. You take a breath and pull away, noticing that the bruise he didn’t let you finish with your hands begins healing itself under your lips. You chuckle, discovering that your magic works through more ways than you knew.
Watching you carefully, Loki smiles at the discovery you make, his hands coming to wrap around you to urge you closer to him. You look up at him, matching his smile before tentatively placing your lips on his jaw, then his cheek, making your way closer to where you would like to touch him the most.
With a breath, Loki meets your lips with his own, sliding his mouth over yours. His hands are all over you as you kiss deeply into his mouth. You feel everywhere that he touches you, and he burns hot beneath your touch. 
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?” you ask between kisses. He hums into your mouth, then nods, a smirk pulling at his lips.
“I do believe there is.”
a/n: yayayay !! thanks for reading !! let me know if you want to be on my taglist :) and check out MY SLEEPOVER going on right now !!
490 notes · View notes