i love watching a semi obscure and often not very good old movie bc uh. woman. and then walking away with niche and in depth queer interpretations of the film and like having a mental conspiracy board and being like do you see it? do you see the vision? but like no. you haven’t even seen the movie lol
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(last one i promise) (SORRY FOR ALL THE ASKS) for felix!! how did you come to see catarina as a sister ?? whats your favorite thing to do together when theres free time ??
(IT’S ALRIGHT, ANYONE CAN ALWAYS SEND AS MANY ASKS AS THEY WOULD LIKE TO!)
Felix: “Taking some time off from your usual expeditions, are we? Well, it’s good to see you in good spirits.
To answer your first question, that.. took a bit of time. You know what I was like back at the academy, after all. I didn’t actually get to meet Catarina until partway through the year, since it was only then that we ended up in the same house, but.. I’ll admit she caught my attention pretty quickly. She’s never trained as often as me, but we ended up arranging to spar together a lot, and that’s really how things got started. I’d say we have quite similar ways of fighting, so that common ground helped us to build up a connection, and then.. we started talking about other things than training, somehow. I suppose it was just- refreshing, to have someone around who had such an outside perspective. She may have roots in Faerghus, but the fact she wasn’t raised there, or raised to uphold the same typical values the Kingdom prides itself on - or even anywhere else in Fódlan - meant that.. there’s a lot I felt I could talk to her about, in a way I just couldn’t with others. Also, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me a piece of her mind, or say what she thought about things. Not many others were like that, so it stuck out to me.
By the end of the year, it didn’t feel like we had developed the same dynamic I have with my friends - and I wouldn’t necessarily say it was any worse or better, it’s just.. there was something different about it. Maybe it’s because it was just something shared between the two of us, not a piece of a larger group setting. A closeness that almost seemed more natural, or permanent, than just friendship, even despite the much shorter time we’d actually known each other. What I mean by that is that.. Rina and I can talk about anything, and it’d never feel like what we had could just suddenly fall apart, no matter what we actually said to each other. In fact, I don’t know if we’ve ever fallen out in a serious way; we may bicker a lot over little things, but it’s always more playful than anything else - never as tense or able to suddenly escalate as it could be with others. So, that’s.. really where the whole “sister” thing started.
Oh, and for your second question - we still train together, a lot. Catarina prides herself on being a difficult opponent to strike, and I’m very familiar with that by this point, but it doesn’t make it that much easier to get a hit in on her. Sometimes it can feel like I’m fighting a mirage of myself when she’s more on the offensive, which.. is a strange feeling, but I think it’s good. She also keeps trying to help me with the magic side of things, which usually results in her taking a pile of books out of the library and dragging me somewhere to go read them with her until one of us gets bored. ..I’ll admit that seeing her own spellcraft in action has helped me gain a greater appreciation of magic than I used to have, but I’m still not close to her own proficiency. Then again, I know I’d overpower her if she wasn’t using magic, so me having greater physical strength can still be more useful than her balanced and more agile style. And, the magic I do know how to cast is already far above what most swordsmen could use or expect from me, so I still have the edge in most combat situations, even without being an expert.
I.. hope that all of this answers your questions. Feel free to stop by again if you want to ask more.”
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Your Needs, My Needs
THE PRELUDE
a masterlist of how you can help gaza
pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)
description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.
word count: 3.7k words
warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao
author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!
“Sign here and she’s all yours.”
When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life.
While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway.
She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields.
The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours.
Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it.
You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway.
You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.
It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all.
You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street.
You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior.
The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so.
Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor.
In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position.
You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed. Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road.
You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened.
Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”
The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field.
Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.
You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence.
-
When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings.
You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you.
A hot cowboy saved your life.
It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here.
You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine.
“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”
She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”
You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start.
“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”
“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”
The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it.
You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”
“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”
You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal.
You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway.
When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads.
You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card.
“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”
You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both.
You needed your furniture, after all.
It will be okay, you tell yourself.
“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”
“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”
You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”
–
You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night.
The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it.
Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy.
It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.
You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl.
He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric.
He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color.
“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”
You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.
You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you.
“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand.
“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”
The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way.
“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”
You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.
“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.
You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.”
He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”
“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.”
You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole.
“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”
You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”
“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”
You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”
“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”
You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”
“Well, what have you tried doin’?”
You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.
“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”
He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did.
“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.
“What Texas or this bathroom?”
He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin.
“You got tons of jokes, huh?”
You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile.
“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame.
You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet.
“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”
“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”
You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you.
He would come over again? To fix your toilet?
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”
“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”
He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”
-
His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired.
“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”
You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture.
You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.
While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do.
You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.
“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate.
“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out.
“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”
He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”
Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled.
He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head.
“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”
You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places.
You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture.
“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”
“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”
You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold.
“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school.
“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.”
You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”
They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady.
He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.
“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”
Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”
Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”
You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods.
You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken.
He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze.
“Somethin’ wrong?”
You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.
“N-no, everything is okay.”
“Don’t look it.”
“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”
Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.”
“O-oh okay.”
“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”
You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.
You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”
PART 1 COMING SOON!
taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon
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Hope we make it to the Cloud.
♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗
SUMMARY: Amidst an identity crisis, you try to adequately prepare for your solo comeback. The lyrics have already been perfected, the song recorded and the visuals pinpointed. However, your creative team is not fully convinced by the choreography you came up with. They decide to send over one Bada Lee to help you finetune your jumbled ideas and bring harmony to your vision. You just have one specific request: the routine must include a trampoline.
WORD COUNT: 10k
CW: eventual smut, bada is 100% a giver and not a receiver in this jsyk (but i promise it makes sense in context), hinted voyeurism.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was meant to be pure smut but it became much longer than i intended ... oops for that . . . lets just roll with it!!1 also the choreo described is heavily inspired by tinashes bouncin.
- you don't care about those 7k words worth of boring build up? skip to this line: <After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”>
————— ୨୧ —————
The first thing you notice is how surprisingly gentle her voice is.
“I’m Bada, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Bada Lee stood tall in front of you, clad in an oversized jersey, cargo pants and a cap hugging her forehead in such a way her eyes were entirely obscured from your view. She promptly bowed after she spoke. Unsure where to look, you dropped your gaze and followed suit; vaguely aware of her seniority and bowing deeper.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” You tried to keep your own voice as neutral as possible, but agitation bubbled in your chest as you felt your manager’s prodding, eager eyes behind you. “Thanks for being here.”
Your team was much more excited about this collaboration than you were.
None of the aggravation you felt was Bada’s fault. It had been three weeks of your creative team dismissing every choreo draft you came up with: Three weeks of sleepless nights at the dance studio, tiring out yourself and your background dancers. Three weeks of browsing through videos sent in by other choreographers across the country, attempting to mix bits and pieces together but none of it ever feeling right. Three weeks filled with reminders of a deadline looming over your head. Three weeks of your team letting you know they had little confidence in this comeback. Your last attempt at showing them what you had come up with had ended up in a shouting match. Your manager, who you otherwise got along with just fine, bluntly stated that, perhaps, this concept simply wasn’t something you could pull off.
It had left you feeling betrayed. Your creative team had agreed it was time for you to approach a more mature concept, something that you felt was years overdue. But it seemed their definition of mature and yours were wildly different. You had worked hard on perfecting a set of songs to choose from, but you immediately butted heads with the rest of the team. You wanted to do the bouncy and playful R&B track. Your team wanted the EDM track. Eventually they relented, but now seemed hellbent on making it as difficult as possible for your vision to come to fruition. Putting together the visual board for the concept photos and the eventual music video was a similarly arduous process. You had to meet in the middle and sacrifice a lot of your initial ideas, but that procedure was almost pleasant compared to what you were dealing with in regards to the choreography.
Every idea you put forward was promptly shut down. Too complicated. Too boring. No TikTok challenge potential. Too sexy.
And maybe it was true. Your formations weren’t as clean as the ones thought up by a professional choreographer, but you weren’t really given a chance at all. It wasn’t like you were a bad dancer either. Far from it. You picked up choreos incredibly fast and had always played an active part in brainstorming past routines alongside your background dancers. You had more experience than most of your peers, yet you were treated as if you were still the same teenaged trainee from years ago.
“Is that really how you all feel?” You had whispered after your manager dropped that bombshell, searching for an answer in the facial expressions of your creative team. Most of them were not even willing to meet your eyes.
“We just need to be realistic.” Your manager stated matter-of-factly. “That other song is still an opt—”
“I am not changing the song.” You cut him off. Momentarily, your manager looked like a fish on dry land, gasping for air. “Sorry.” You added quickly, albeit a bit flustered.
“Look,” He sighed, “We can do mature without shocking the nation. Let's keep it mild for now and maybe after two or three more singles, you can go all out.”
“I haven’t been 18 in years, you know.” You retorted bitterly. Something inside you understood where he was coming from, but you had been obedient since your debut- how much longer should you wait? You didn’t want to sacrifice any more of your creativity, so many years into your career. You had even seen one of your own concepts go to a labelmate instead, your own team dubbing you too “youthful” to pull it off.
“Okay, how about this,” He began with a frown, “Let us pick one of the choreographers’ drafts for you. You can finetune it with their guidance.”
Their pick had been Bada. You hadn’t even realized she sent in a draft: at one point you were so overwhelmed you just stopped checking your emails. You also hadn’t bothered to watch it before this meeting. You were genuinely too deep in your feelings about that whole ordeal for that. However, now that she was standing in the studio, tall height towering over you, you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious.
You had seen Bada around.
After all, she had worked with many of your labelmates before. You had also watched a fair amount of her videos. She was one of the best in the business, and whenever you had downtime to practice freely you scrolled through her routines on Youtube to help stay in shape. As you were facing her, even with half her face hidden, you understood why everyone was so stricken with her. When she had walked into the room she oozed with authority, though not in an obnoxious way.
“Great!” Your manager clapped his hands, effectively breaking your train of thought. “Thank you so much for supporting us, Bada. Shall we jump right in?”
“Sure,” She nodded eagerly, hands wringing together as her body turned towards you. “I kind of wanted to see what you had in mind for this choreo.”
That surprised you, and you were certain your facial expression wasn’t hiding it. Your manager held his breath. “Oh! Well—” You chewed on your lip as you vaguely motioned the corner of the room, trying to find the words. “I wanted to use… I wanted to use a trampoline.”
Bada immediately turned her head to follow your gestures, her eyes landing on the mini trampoline set up in the studio. “A trampoline?” In the background, your manager heaved a sigh.
You purposely ignored him and nodded, slowly: “I can show you, if you want.” You had hoped that sounded more self-assured to her than it did to you.
Bada scratched her chin, still looking off to the trampoline, and then nodded along with you. “I’d love to see it.”
You felt the tension in your chest ebb away. There was no malice to her tone; she seemed genuinely curious.
Then, Bada turned her head towards your manager, her ponytail falling off her shoulder. “I hope I'm not imposing but, I would like this to be a collaborative effort between the two of us. I think it would take the pressure off if you…?” She trailed off with a kind smile, one impossible to say no to.
As if he got doused with cold water, your manager stood up with an urgency. “Privacy! I can give you two some privacy, no problem!” He fussed around, gathering his things. “Just let me know when we can sit in on the finished product.”
The both of you bowed to him as you bid your farewells, watching him leave the studio with a wave. Once the door shut behind him, you could feel yourself exhale in relief. You knew that if your manager was going to sit in on every practice, he would go out of his way to shut down all of your ideas. Without him around, you had more opportunity to champion your vision- at least, you hoped so.
You craned your neck, looking up at the ceiling, before letting your eyes fall shut with a sigh, almost forgetting there was another person in the room.
“They’ve been on your case, huh?”
Bada's soft but clear voice broke you out of your spell, and you turned your head to search for a glimpse of eye contact. Tough luck, as her hat was still in place casting a shadow down her face. There was, however, a knowing smirk playing across her features.
“You have no idea.” You muttered honestly. Bada laughed.
“I don’t want to make you dance a routine you don’t fully stand behind. I did mean it when I said I want this to be a collaborative effort.” Bada spoke carefully, but sincerely, her fingers once again intertwining. “I always wanted to work with you, so it’s an honor.” She added.
If you got a penny for every time you were caught off guard today, you could set some humble savings aside for an early retirement.
It is true that you’ve been sought after, but it wasn’t something you had ever internalized. Hearing it come from someone who herself was heavily sought after, made your face heat up.
“T- thank you. It’s an honor to work with you too.”
She bowed her head humbly, glancing over to the corner of the studio again where the trampoline sat, waiting. “Do you feel comfortable showing me what you have been working on?”
You nodded and rushed to the corner to set up your speaker, and then dragged the trampoline to the center of the room. You were oddly aware of your own presence, and almost felt the urge to make yourself smaller as you moved around. In the meantime, Bada was getting comfortable: she had dropped her things on a nearby table and left out a bottle of water. To her it must be a regular working day, but to you this felt scarier than getting up on stage.
Once you stood behind the trampoline, facing the wide stretched mirror filling up one side of the room, you stole a glance at the choreographer who was now crouched on the floor. She had pulled out a small camera and was setting it up on the edge of the table, making sure the lens was focused on your position. Long fingers fiddled with the buttons, and her tongue was prodding the hollow of her cheek. The angle allowed you to finally catch a glimpse of her eyes.
As if on cue, she glanced up at you. Your eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and your heart raced.
She gave you a soft smile and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, the camera now fully set up. “I usually record everything, so we can watch it back and give feedback.”
Right, of course.
“Yeah, that’s usually how we operate as well.” You spoke timidly, and it was true. Yet something about having her attention on you felt more intimate. Usually there was at least one other person from your creative team looking on as well.
Trying to come across casual, you tied your hair up in a high ponytail. “What do you think of the song?” You asked curiously.
It was now Bada’s turn to be caught off guard. Her smile faltered and she broke the eye contact you had been sharing, clasping her hands together as she spoke. “I like it.” She began. “A lot, actually. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it. There isn’t anyone doing a song like this nowadays.”
Even though her body language was confusing, you couldn’t find any dishonesty in her voice. What she said made you feel relieved, some of your insecurity fading to the background. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it.
You sent a smile her way even though you weren’t sure she was even looking at you.
Proving you wrong, she smiled back.
“Alright, so,” You gestured to the trampoline at your feet. “The idea is, the other dancers and I all do the same routine. I'll be front and center. Four or six other dancers dance behind me, with their own trampoline.” You gave the trampoline a light shove with your foot, making sure it would stay in place, and then grabbed your phone. “Then you have an idea.”
You looked over your shoulder at Bada and gave her an inquisitive thumbs up. “Ready?” You asked.
Bada pressed a button on the camera and mimicked your thumbs up with a smile. “Ready when you are.”
You faced the mirror again and shook your shoulders a bit, forcing your body to loosen up. After twisting your neck a few times, you hit play on your phone, quickly placing it under the trampoline as the familiar synths of the song started blaring from the speakers. You tried to feel the confidence you were usually able to conjure up on stage, closing your eyes and swaying your hips, ponytail moving from side to side.
As soon as you heard your own voice through the speakers, instrumentals going deeper, you got into position. Your eyes opened up to focus on your own reflection in the mirror as if it was a fan in the crowd watching. Mouthing along to the lyrics, a playful smile on your lips, you hit every move as you had envisioned. Once the chorus came up, you dropped to your knees on the trampoline, grappling the edge as you performed the routine. Pushing back against the springs gave you the velocity to keep your moves fluid, your body twisting and turning, flipping over and hitting the next move. You made sure to move your hips deftly, aware that you had enough curves to allow you to pull it off, and kept your facial expressions in line. It had to look effortless.
You felt your ponytail swing along with your movements as if it were an extension of you, and sat up on the trampoline. The chorus came to an end and you used your arm strength to twist yourself around fast enough, gracefully falling back on your chest whilst keeping your toes en pointe in your sneakers. The tips of your fingers were touching the floor as your legs crossed, moving to rest your elbow on the edge of the trampoline and resting your chin atop your palm. You lip synced to the final words of the chorus, gaze alluring as you finished the move, and the music stopped.
You slowly sat up straight on the trampoline, crossing your legs, and slid your hand underneath to hit pause on your phone. You looked towards Bada expectantly, but the question got stuck in your throat. She was staring at you, mouth slightly agape, with an unreadable expression. For a split second you were reminded of your trainee days, when you had just finished a routine and were met by your choreographers’ stern faces; they wouldn’t spare you a single compliment, and instead listed off every mistake you had made.
But then, Bada blinked once and then twice, as if in a daze, and let out a soft “woah”. She started applauding you, shaking her head in bafflement. You felt your shoulders drop in relief.
“That was incredible!” The choreographer took off her cap, fixing her bangs before putting it back on. “You came up with this?”
You nodded slowly, the tips of your ears glowing hot. “I used to be a gymnast.”
“I can tell—” Bada spoke bluntly, but then snapped her mouth shut as if she said something wrong. “I mean, that was really good. Every part of your body was in command. Your team didn’t like it?”
“They think it’s too much, compared to my usual routines.” You had the urge to go off on a tangent, but ultimately you didn’t know Bada well enough. Unfortunately, you were naturally quite expressive and the disapproving frown on your face was on clear display.
“Too much? I kind of wanted more, actually.” She laughed softly, looking down to where her legs were crossed. You felt your heart skip a beat and bowed your head in lieu of a thanks.
Subsequently, the bright green light of the camera caught your attention. It was still recording.
“Hey, I think the camera is still on.” You spoke before you realized, and hoped it didn’t sound accusatory.
“Huh? Oh!” Her expression was almost akin to a child being caught with a hand in a cookie jar, the way she swiped at the camera to turn it off. “Sorry. Good call.” She mumbled shyly, tucking it behind her.
You weren’t sure what to say next, still flustered at her lofty praises, but luckily Bada broke the momentary silence.
“I had an idea…” She began, her hand rubbing at her chin pensively. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to watch my draft yet?”
You shook your head abashedly. “No, sorry, I honestly didn’t get to it.”
“It’s fine.” Bada waved her hands dismissively. “Maybe instead of doing the trampoline routine in every chorus, we could only do it in the middle? Exactly as it is. I wouldn’t change anything. And then for the other two choruses, we could keep some key moves but keep it on the floor.”
You mulled it over for a second, glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. Using the trampoline the whole way through was not an option, according to your team. They had felt you were toeing the line with ‘raunchy’ much too closely. Perhaps you could find middle ground this way, while still keeping the part of the routine you felt most proud of.
“Okay.” You agreed, nodding slowly. “We would need something special for the final chorus, then.”
“I had another idea for that, if you’re fine with it. Would you like to watch my draft with me?”
————— ୨୧ —————
Her draft was good. Really good, actually.
Bada and you were sitting on the floor next to each other, the taller girl holding her phone out in front of you as the draft played on the screen. You were sitting quite closely together, but not close enough to be touching, a conscious decision on your part. You were a bit too aware of her presence, something about her was heightening your senses in a variety of ways. It wasn’t even as if she was stern or unkind, she just had an aura that intimidated you. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.
A blonde girl you didn’t recognize was dancing your parts. Six other dancers, one of them being Bada, were in formation behind her performing the choreography perfectly in sync as your song played in the background. While you should really be paying attention to the girl in the center, your eyes couldn’t leave Bada’s figure. In the video she was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants, just like today, and a crop top. Once again she wore a cap covering half her face, and even a face mask, but her hair hung loose over her shoulders.
You were always impressed by the small movements she was able to squeeze in, emphasizing certain parts in ways the other dancers weren’t able to. However, it was the final chorus that had your hands turn clammy.
The final chorus was a duet formation. Bada, with a quiet confidence in her step, and the blonde girl moved towards each other in the center of the room. They were effectively dancing for each other, the blonde girl whipping her head back as Bada stared her down, swaying their hips together rhythmically. Their steps were coordinated in such a way they almost mirrored, Bada rolling her body one way and the blonde girl moving the other; but it still felt cohesive. It was an intimate choreo. There were a few split moments of hips grinding against crotches, but it never lasted long enough to be straight up inappropriate. Still, you couldn’t help but realize you would have to practice this routine with Bada as well, and you felt yourself getting hot under the collar.
The choreo ended with the blonde girl giving Bada a playful shove, and the taller girl backed away slowly, a saunter in her step, before moving off the screen along with the other background dancers. The video ended and Bada dropped her phone in her lap, not looking at you.
“That was good.” You were relieved your voice came out evenly, and Bada started nodding in her trademark way, hands clasped together. “The formations were really clean and— I loved the final chorus.” You blurted.
She smirked, head raising and meeting your eyes for the second time today. You were starting to feel eager, greedily watching.
“I’m glad to hear. We definitely need to finetune the first chorus, line it up with your routine and all that. I really don’t want to lose your input.”
“That sounds great, thank you.” You felt a surge of gratitude in your chest, and shot her a wide smile. “I’m looking forward to working on this together.”
Bada dropped her gaze again, worrying her lower lip. You felt miffed at the brusque interruption of your shared eye contact but didn't show it.
“I suggest we start with practices tomorrow, we will edit the first chorus as we go,” She whipped out her phone, looking at her calendar. “We should practice the duet together until you’ve got a handle on it, and then I can bring over some of my guys to prep for the actual performances. I know someone for my part. He’s worked with some of your labelmates before, I’m confident he’s right for the job.”
You couldn’t tell if you were anxious at the prospect of practicing such a choreo with Bada, or if you were disappointed that the eventual product wouldn’t be performed with her. It made sense, though. If your label was already worried your concept was too mature for the country, having two women perform such a choreography wouldn’t be received well at all.
“Great. Same time tomorrow, just the two of us again?”
“Same time tomorrow,” The third time she was willing to meet your eyes, and once again with a small smile playing across her features. “Just the two of us.”
————— ୨୧ —————
Working with Bada the past few days has been surprisingly easy.
On the first day, she brought some iced coffee for the both of you and presented it with an exaggeratedly deep bow, holding out the plastic takeout bag in front of her as if she was a lackey presenting you a treasure. You giggled, muttering an incredulous “thank you” as you took the bag from her hands. Through sips of coffee, the both of you fast forwarded through the recordings trying to piece the choreography together. You were able to bounce ideas off of her in a way you never felt comfortable enough doing with other choreographers. Bada was attentive, patient and, above all, eager.
On the second day, you wanted to repay your debt and entered the studio with a box of doughnuts. She let out a surprisingly girlish squeak when you laid the box on the table, and barreled over to grab one. That day she was wearing a beanie instead of a cap, something you inadvertently preferred as you could now lock eyes and take in her features. Sometimes you had the impression she was hellbent on looking anywhere except into your eyes, but you didn’t want to mull it over for too long; some people just had a different way of interacting. Everything else about her still left you with a warm feeling.
Sometimes you both took turns performing for each other. She would pull her beanie further down her head as she took the center of the studio, and each time something inside you would brace itself. You could only watch in awe: her movements were sharp and magnetic, her entire body language changing in the blink of an eye. While your attention should be on her footwork, you were instead hypnotized by the sway of her hips, greedily drinking her in. You chalked it up to her being such a captivating dancer.
However, little could explain how much you relished in her undivided attention. When it was your turn to copy the moves, you made sure to give it your all and put on a show. Without a hat obscuring her eyes, you could tell where her eyes were looking and it wasn’t always on your reflection in the mirror. You swore you could feel her gaze burning in your lower back, but you didn’t mind. It encouraged you to hit your moves a bit harder than you usually would.
“You’re a fast learner,” Bada said at the end of the day, drinking from her water bottle as you watched her throat bob. “Keep it up and you won’t need me anymore.”
You didn’t like the sound of that.
————— ୨୧ —————
By the fifth day, the both of you had started working through the details of the duet.
The familiar song sounded through the speakers, the room filled with the sound of your singing voice and the squeaking of your sneakers on the floor.
You were painfully aware of the way Bada closely danced behind you but you kept your eyes down, forcing yourself to keep track of your footwork. You bent over slightly at the start of the next line, your hips popping out and letting your hair whip to the side as you hummed along to the lyrics. In tandem, Bada moved her hips the opposite direction but gyrated closer to you, her hand coming up to tug her cap lower. You spared the mirror a glance for a split second, realizing Bada was much closer to you than you had realized, but you pushed the thought away.
You looked good together.
“Pause real quick.” She spoke suddenly, stepping away from you and bending over to stop the song. You immediately halted your movements at the command, trying to control the heaving of your chest and willing away the warmth of your cheeks.
She stood up again, meeting your eyes in the mirror before steadying herself behind you, body close to yours.
“You’re doing great, but,” A tentative hand slid to your hip, fingers curling over in a loose grip as she subtly urged it to move to one side. Both your eyes remained locked through the mirror. “I think we should move together in this part. Like this.” She repeated the motion, her grasp on your hip tightening ever so slightly before pulling you flush against her pelvis. Her hips rocked along with yours, and you could only follow.
She hummed close to your ear, and you felt her breathe along the side of your face. “Just like that.” Her voice was quiet, gentle even, though her stare was everything but that. It was intense.
In an attempt to sound casual you replied with an “okay”, but it came out softer than you had hoped for.
Her eyes dropped from the mirror, opting to look down at you directly, but you couldn’t find the confidence to return the favor. “You should do that thing again," she continued quietly, "Where you throw your hair back, but look at me when you do it.”
You repeated your steps, but this time both her hands came down to hold your hips in place. You turned your head as requested, your hair falling over your shoulder as your eyes finally met. Her gaze was intense but undecipherable; she hadn’t been looking at the mirror at all this time.
Bada was so close, unblinking and heady. The thought entered your mind before you fully realized: if you craned your neck you could kiss her. In a careful motion, you felt her hands slide up and down slowly, smoothing along the curve of your hips.
“Perfect.” She said, and it sounded so intimate you felt lightheaded. Usually she voiced her approval with an animated smile and a thumbs up, but she spoke to you as if she was scared you would set off running. “You got it. You want to try that again with music?”
You nodded slowly and her hands dropped from your hips, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. As she bent down to turn the song back on, you brought the back of your hand up to your cheek; checking if it was as warm as you felt. Then you ran your fingers through your ponytail, tightening the hair tie with a sharp tug in an attempt to snap yourself out of whatever daze you had fallen into.
It meant nothing. She had merely workshopped a move and there was no need to feel so nervous.
The final chorus of the song began thumping again and the both of you got into your starting positions. Bada’s presence was palpable behind you, but you tried to force your head back into performance-mode. You kept your moves sharp, lip synced as if the voice came directly from your own throat and smiled playfully at all the right lines.
As the instrumentals of the final chorus got louder, you twirled a finger around your ponytail, playing with the imaginary crowd in front of you. Bada pressed up against your back. Your hips moving in tandem just as the choreo required and you could no longer repress the urge to grind back against her. You saw Bada smirk in the mirror, her eyes obscured by her cap, but you could tell she was enjoying your blunt display of confidence. That made you laugh for real, putting an extra ‘oomph’ into the roll of your hips, dropping even lower, and feeling Bada take what you gave her with a great amount of enthusiasm. You heard the choreographer let out a "woo!" and you giggled.
At the very end of the choreo, you were meant to face Bada and push her away; making room for a final solo moment. So you turned around, meeting that familiar mischievous grin and your hand came up to curl into her collar. Bada sucked in her lower lip, greedily towering over you and looking down expectantly.
But something about the giddy atmosphere had you feeling bold, so you tugged her even closer instead. Her mouth fell open, but she followed you down nonetheless, eyes becoming half-lidded. You were mere inches removed from each other, and her breath fanned across your face. For a split second her gaze lingered on your lips, and you held your breath, heart fluttering in an unfamiliar feeling. A fleeting thought told you to bridge the gap, pull her impossibly closer by the grip you had on her collar, but your body acted before your brain could.
You reached for her cap and tugged it off her head, putting it on yourself in one swift movement and then shoved her away as you were supposed to do; effectively breaking the spell. You turned on your heel to look back at your reflection in the mirror, consciously blocking Bada from your periphery and closed out the song. The music stopped.
Now that the studio was quiet you could hear the both of you catching your breaths, and rather than facing Bada while your face was still heating up, you flopped onto the floor, limbs spread out. You moved Bada’s cap atop your face, blocking out the bright lights of the practice room, feeling exceptionally winded.
You felt Bada sit down next to you and she promptly pulled her hat off your face.
“Ow,” You uttered lamely, arms coming up to cover your face instead. Surely the shame you felt was on wide display and you had to save the little bit of the reputation you had left. You could already hear her voice, albeit uncharacteristically, echo in your head: “What was that?” “Why didn’t you just stick to what I told you?” “That was highly unprofessional.” Your stomach churned.
But instead she said: “That was incredible.”
“Huh.” You exclaimed unintelligently. You tentatively moved your arms from your face and were met with Bada staring you down, her hat back in place. It would probably be too weird if you went back into hiding, so you dropped your arms uselessly.
“That was incredible,” she repeated, a fond smile on her lips. “You are incredible. I’m telling you, we’ve got a hit on our hands.” She extended her arms excitedly, as if she had to convey the sheer magnitude of potential you both had crafted.
“You really think so?” You sounded breathless, the warmth in your chest blossoming.
“I know so. Seriously? If your team doesn’t like this, they’re idiots.” Her bluntness kicked a laugh out of you, and you playfully whacked her knee. “No, I mean it!”
“It wasn’t too much?” Slowly you sat up, tugging at the front of your shirt clinging uncomfortably to your body from the sweat.
Bada tilted her head, blinking at you sympathetically as she weighed your words carefully.
“I’ve already told you,” her voice was quiet, as if she was worried someone else might overhear, “I can’t get enough of you. The same goes for the public, by the way.”��
That made you want to kick your feet like a teenager, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fought the impulse to fall into her arms. Instead, you dropped your head with a timid smile hoping that did enough to show your gratitude.
Bada placed a hand on your shoulder with a touch so soft she might as well be reassembling a broken vase, urging you to look at her. “Let's take a break, order some bubble tea and then watch the recordings. Sound good?”
You leaned into the touch with exhilaration. “Yeah. My treat, though.”
————— ୨୧ —————
The tenth day coincided with a photoshoot in the morning. You had gotten up at 4am to get to the location early enough so that there was enough room for your stylists to get to work.
The first thing you noticed was the visual board you had worked on tirelessly a few weeks prior.
It had changed.
Some of the images jumbled around or left out entirely, replaced by ones you did not recognize or even liked to begin with. Even the color scheme had changed. Before you could ask your manager about it, however, your hair stylist beckoned you to follow her into the booth. Still groggy, with just a protein shake in your belly to keep you at bay, you followed without objection.
But then, after you emerged fully made up with your hair in intricate braids and ribbons, you saw the backdrop you were going to work with and the outfits you would be wearing: they looked nothing like what you had agreed on.
Once sown into the baby pink corset, you looked at your reflection in the mirror with a glassy expression, too exhausted to even express the anger that was simmering in your chest.
“What happened to the costume I commissioned?” You asked your manager in a flat voice, fully realizing you wouldn’t like whatever the answer would be.
“Oh,” But he didn’t sound surprised at all, “We didn’t really like how it turned out, so we decided to go with something else. Pink looks good on you, you know.” He added hurriedly.
You blinked, clenching and unclenching your jaw. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene in front of all the staff. Firstly, it wasn’t their fault; secondly, word got around quickly and the last thing you needed was a trending blind item about diva behavior. With great difficulty you swallowed the venom down your throat and walked over to the camera crew without sparing your manager a single glance. Bowing to everyone separately, you turned on the autopilot. You just needed to get through the day. You posed for the flashing of the cameras, turning your brain off.
“That’s a wrap! Great work, all.” The photographer’s voice snapped you out of your daze, and you slowly stumbled away from the backdrop, blinking back tears.
“Great job everyone, thank you for your hard work.” You hoped your voice sounded even and hurried away to get changed.
Once alone in your dressing room, you bent over the sink with your hands in your hair. You didn’t understand. They had seen the choreography Bada and you had worked on, and approved. They had been enthusiastic even, and it felt like your team and you had finally buried the hatchet. Now you understood why they were so pliant in their acceptance of the final choreo; they had found something else to exert their control over. You didn’t want to cry, so you grit your teeth and untied your hair, fingers smoothing out where the braids had been.
Bada.
In the bustle of the early morning you had almost forgotten you were meant to start your first practice with the entire dance crew today, with Bada as the lead choreographer ensuring everything played out exactly according to your collaborative vision. It had been almost two days since you had last seen her, yesterday being a day off for the both of you, and for some reason it felt like a lifetime.
You wanted to see her, but you weren’t sure if you could dance today.
You arrived at the studio about an hour later, right on time, with most of your makeup cleared from your face and dressed in joggers and a crop top. This time you were sporting a cap as well, hoping the dancers wouldn’t notice the fatigue etched on your face on your first day with them.
Everyone was already there. Some dancers stretching, others practicing and a few watching the recordings while in deep discussion with Bada. Her flannel shirt was bunched up at her elbows as she made grand gestures with her hands, explaining something to the dancers in front of her. As the sound of the door opening and closing filled the room, the tall girl perked up mid-sentence, shooting you a wide smile.
“Hey! I got you some coffee.” She spoke brightly, walking over to you in big strides as her loose braid fell off her shoulder. You had just finished bowing to everyone when you turned to Bada, feeling your chest swell at the sight of her. “How was the shoot?”
She must’ve noticed something. Perhaps it was the sag of your shoulder, the way you bit your lower lip or the exhaustion in your eyes; but her smile faltered slightly when she got a closer look.
“It went alright.” You spoke neutrally, unable to meet her eyes but adding a nod to come across as reassuring as possible. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Bada stood a bit helplessly but seemed to understand that prying any further would be futile. “Of course, it was my turn, after all.” She smiled carefully. “You wanna get started?”
“Let’s do that.” You agreed, hoping that dancing would get your mind off of things.
Bada gathered everyone together and gave a small speech, making a conscious effort to do all the talking so you could comfortably hide the swelling insecurity you felt deep in your chest. You nodded at the right times, smiled at the dancers (some of them peeking at you in awe) and tried to come across relaxed.
Once Bada finished talking, she called for everyone to get in position as she strode to the far end of the room, where she had the most optimal view. You moved to the front, right next to your trampoline, facing the mirror and vaguely took note of a tall guy with a buzzcut who now stood in the spot Bada did when you had been practicing with her. Something about her not being part of the dance anymore, even though you perfectly knew this was going to be the plan all along, made you feel even less secure.
You shook your limbs loose, trying to empty your head for the sake of the dancers who were all blind to your inner turmoil and instead incredibly excited to be here. You did not want to waste their time. Once again, you forced yourself into auto pilot.
The song started playing, bubbling synths building up to your first lines, and you danced. You danced as you had practiced with Bada, but weren’t able to envision the crowd in front of you. Instead you relied on muscle memory, which worked out well enough. Even when the tall guy was behind you for the duet, hips grazing yours, you didn’t feel very aware of your surroundings at all. Sometimes you all had to stop midway when Bada noticed that someone was offbeat or out of position, but you slid back into the moves easily. The team was strong, too. You danced the choreo once, twice, thrice and a fourth time. When you grabbed the guy’s collar, you pushed him back immediately, unlike what you had practiced with Bada, and finished your move.
Bada clapped her hands together with a cheer.
“That was solid, everyone!” She strode over, giving everyone a thumbs up. “Some things we have to smooth over, but we are way ahead on schedule. Let’s take five. I— Are you okay?”
You barely realized your own actions until you felt the warm tears run down your cheeks. You had sat down on the trampoline in such an unceremonious way, body shaking from exertion as you tried to hold back hiccups. Panic began crawling up your body and into your throat. Suddenly aware of the dancers seeing you in such a state, you took your cap off and held it in front of your face.
“Actually, since we are ahead on schedule, let’s make this a short day.” Bada’s authoritative voice declared to the entire room. The dancers nodded along nervously, glancing at your hunched figure with palpable worry. “Great work everyone, make sure to get home safe. Same time tomorrow.”
You croaked out a soft “Thank you, everyone” through your fingers, but your voice was barely audible. You couldn’t face them.
Footsteps rushed around the room, the dancers gathering their backpacks off the floor. You barely registered the hushed voices slowly echoing further and further away from you, until the door shut with finality; a lock sounding in place and silence reigning over the space.
Bada’s hands came to rest on your shoulders as you felt the trampoline sink with her added weight. Then she pulled you into her arms with a tenderness you had never experienced from anyone before. Your arms tightened around her frame in instinct, dropping your cap onto the floor, and your heart constricting painfully as you hid your face in her chest.
She didn’t speak as you hiccupped soundlessly, letting the exhaustion pour out of you with quivering shoulders. Bada’s hands traced comforting lines along your back, her cheek pressed against the top of your head as she waited for the trembling of your body to subdue. In turn, you tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breathing lulling you.
After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”
You glanced up at her, tears still running down your cheeks as you choked back a particularly pathetic sob. “I’m sorry…”
Bada let out an affronted gasp, bringing her hands up to cradle your face instead and letting her thumbs wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t apologize. Tell me what happened.”
“My team,” You began with a slurred speech, “They still don’t believe in me. They don’t think I can pull this off.”
Your voice sounded heartbroken: “They make sure to remind me every chance they get. My manager is certain I am going to embarrass the nation, because there is only one thing I can do and it’s not this. I can’t be sexy. I don’t have good ideas. And maybe they’re right! I don’t have the charisma to pull this off. My fans are going to hate it, because it’s not the person they wanted to support—” There was nothing you could do except keep going, like a faucet running, and Bada let you, “—I can’t even wear what I want. My visual board was cybercore inspired. I had a red PVC two piece outfit custom-made, but they put me in a pink dress and ballet shoes.” You added, horrified; not at the clothes, but at the clear disconnect between your team and you.
Bada, who was nodding along to your words with a serious expression up until that point, chuckled at your words, thumbs still catching tears. “Well I always thought you looked like a pretty princess, but that’s indeed a bit on the nose.”
The follow-up to your rant died in your throat, eyes widening at her words. Your brain was short circuiting. “You think I’m pretty?”
The taller girl scoffed at that, brows furrowing. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”
“Why?” You asked, genuinely.
For a moment she gawked at you, deep in thought and searching your face for insincerity. Bada was unable to find it.
“It’s not the only thing I think of you.”
Something about the atmosphere in the room changed when she spoke, and you almost forgot why you were upset in the first place. She carefully tucked your hair behind your ears, her eyes staring into yours unblinkingly. It reminded you of the way she had looked at you during practice days prior, when you had pulled her close by her collar for the first time. Her attention on you was suffocating, but you were glad to be drowning.
You sucked in your lower lip for a split second, releasing it, and waited with bated breath for her to continue. Her eyes dropped immediately, following your movements. She slid one hand down to the crook of your neck, slowly, the tips of her fingers tracing along your skin and leaving shivers in their wake; her other hand curled under your chin with a loose grip, tilting your head back slightly. Your head felt so heavy you could only lean in closer, wanting more of something you couldn’t even put in words.
But as always with Bada, she seemed to know what you wanted before you could open your mouth and ask for it. She closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a soft peck, and it was when you realized she was also holding her breath.
Her thumb trailed along your jawline, breath fanning over your lips. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly. You placed your hands on her thighs to brace yourself, your own lightheadedness overwhelming you, and nodded.
There was a shadow of a smirk on her lips when she kissed you a second time; lips connected with more force this time before gliding together in tandem. She tilted your head to get impossibly closer to you, her hand moving from your chin to tangle her fingers into your hair and cradling the back of your head. When her lips parted and closed around your bottom lip, nipping eagerly, you inadvertently let out a soft noise at the warmth of it all which only seemed to spur her on further.
You curled your hands into the front of her shirt as her back straightened, crowding around you as if her goal was to subdue, the trampoline creaking underneath your shared weight. She seemed to relish in overpowering you, inhaling sharply through her nose when you parted your mouth for her further.
You felt the tentative prod of her tongue, and accepted. The wetness made you shiver as she swallowed your quiet gasps. The hand that was previously nestled against your neck slid lower, began exploring along the curve of your waist and feeling the bare skin your crop top couldn’t reach to hide.
She parted the kiss, and you let out a soft whine. Biting her lip in an attempt to hide her smile, but ultimately failing, her eyes were drinking you in. You could only imagine what you looked like as even Bada was flushed all over, chest heaving from excitement. Then, as if she was reading your mind, her eyes glanced over to the mirror in front of you.
Bada shifted her position behind you, running her fingers through your hair before ultimately placing her palm against the other side of your waist. Steadily, as if she were correcting a move during practice, she turned your body to face the mirror. At this rate you simply accepted the effect she had on you, and wordlessly obeyed her ministrations. She planted her feet on the floor, long legs on either side of you; and ultimately caged you in, nestling her chin into the crook of your neck. Her eyes never left the mirror.
She brushed some of your hair over your shoulder as if she were propping up a doll, and spoke in a hushed voice: “Look at yourself.”
The sight made you feel all the more dizzy. Through half-lidded eyes you barely recognized your own reflection; hair slightly mussed and lips swollen and lovebitten. Someone did that to you. Bada did that to you.
The taller girl, pressed up against you, placed a kiss on your shoulder, fingers running up and down your body and making the hairs on your arms stand straight in exhilaration. You loved the way she touched you, how it made you feel; as if she was tracing the lines on an art piece. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, “people would kill to see you like this.”
The honesty in her voice made something in your stomach roll. “Bada…” You began, but you didn’t even know what you wanted to say.
“You have no idea how other people look at you.” Her hands cradled the small of your waist, fingertips digging into your hips. “So let me show you how they look at you.”
She began kissing up your shoulder, soft and warm presses of her lips, before parting her mouth against your neck with a tangible hunger that left you sighing. You tilted your head to the side to give her more room and every inch you freed, she swarmed eagerly. Her tongue swirled against a patch of skin, hand flattening on your lower stomach as the other traced higher and higher, along your ribcage, before inquisitive fingertips moved under the hem of your top. As she sucked a mark onto your skin, you clenched your thighs together at the familiar sensation between your legs. Your eyes slowly fell shut as she crept up higher, lips pressing right below your earlobe with a barely-there hum.
She whispered: “Keep looking at yourself.”
You obeyed bashfully, right when Bada reattached her lips to your skin. She had been tracing lines along the hem of your sports bra, enthralled with the way you shivered in her grasp, before slipping a hand under; her hand was warm as she kneaded your breast, but your nipples stiffened at the sensation all the same. You pushed out your chest to convey your delectation, and she rewarded you by sinking her teeth into your skin. Suddenly, with a swift movement, both her hands hoisted up the hem of your top and bra, and pulled it upwards, your breasts releasing from its confines. The cold air made them perk up and Bada’s hands cupped the underside.
She detached her lips from your skin with a wet sound before looking up at the mirror, taking you in with her saliva-slicked mouth agape.
“So pretty,” Bada muttered, bringing your breasts a little higher, “Are you sensitive here?” She wondered loudly before tracing her thumbs right below your nipples. Once again your legs squeezed together, feeling yourself throb from excitement, and Bada picked up on the hint with a wide smile. “You are.”
In your reflection you saw Bada bring her fingers up to your mouth, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip imploringly, and you opened your mouth. She slipped her digit past, pushing it back against your tongue and you sucked obediently. Her eyes were drilling into yours through your reflection, enthralled by how pliant you were under her care.
You released the digit with a wet ‘pop’ and Bada promptly brought it to your nipple, rubbing it in circular motions as her other hand continued to knead your other breast. A quiet moan escaped you, chest rising into her touch and Bada giggled, pressing another kiss on your shoulder. Your own hands ached to touch her, but she kept you firmly locked between her legs; instead you squeezed her upper thighs, feeling her shapes through the baggy cargo she was sporting.
“Give me a kiss.” She commanded, and you immediately twisted your neck to capture her lips.
It was all teeth, wet noises echoing through the room as your tongue swirled against hers; the taller girl groaning into your mouth at the sheer force you exerted. She gave your nipples a pinch before rubbing her fingers over them repeatedly, and she swallowed your breathless moans greedily. You dug your nails into her thighs as she cupped your breasts again, her tongue slipping out of your mouth to trail along your bottom lip instead. Your head was chanting her name, getting drunk on the near delirious attention she gave you. Tilting your head back even further, you connected your lips again even though the angle was uncomfortable. You were starting to feel desperate, hips lightly rocking back against the firmness of her body as Bada sucked down on your tongue.
One of her hands released your breast and trailed down the expanse of your stomach, once again breaking the kiss and instead opt to look at you in the mirror. Her fingers found the knot of your joggers as your eyes met in the reflection, and she pulled on the string; untying it.
“Okay?” Bada inquired meaningfully, and you nodded much faster than you intended. “Let me hear you say it.” The tone of her voice, which was otherwise so gentle and quiet, made your full body shiver.
“I want it.” You spoke breathlessly, squirming impatiently between her legs as her fingers finally slipped down your pants.
She trailed along the sweatband of your underpants before cupping your heat over the fabric, fingers pressing against your folds inquisitively. Her eyes never left yours, quietly measuring your reactions. Unwittingly your thighs clamped around her wrist, breath hitching in your throat as she began to caress you with a touch so gentle it didn’t fit the precarious position you both were in.
“You’re so wet.” Bada spoke coyly, smirking at the way your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. She began rubbing circles over your covered folds, feeling your wetness spread as if on command. Your breathing turned into whining, subconsciously grinding back against her hand.
She removed her hand much to your distress, until you realized what she wanted: Bada began tugging the fabric of both your joggers and underpants down as far as she could, before giving your hip a commanding pat. You raised your hips to assist her ministrations, and she pulled the clothing down past your knees before you kicked them off fully.
Your thighs were pressed together when you got back in place and suddenly felt self-conscious at how exposed you were despite your own eagerness. Bada wasn’t having it: her eyes were taking in your figure, hands immediately coming down to smooth along your thighs. Then, she squeezed tightly and wrenched your thighs wide apart, making you expose yourself for her. Before you could instinctively close them, her long legs hooked over your ankles, forcefully keeping them in place. All of it only made you throb harder.
“You don’t want to know how often I’ve been thinking about this these past few days.” Her hands smoothing along your sides in marvel, cupping your breasts once more. The tip of her nose pressed against the shell of your ear. “How many times I’ve watched those recordings and imagined you, exactly like this.” Her fingers fit into your mouth once again, and you sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl along the digits as if you were starving for it. “I think I lost count.”
Her confession made you moan around her fingers, shivers running down your spine. She scooted back ever so slightly, pulling your hips back with her unoccupied hand until it was the angle she needed, and then dropped it between your legs. Her fingers spread your folds and she sucked in a breath, completely mesmerized by your reflection. You were still swallowing around her fingers and she hummed encouragingly, hand cupping your vagina and spreading your wetness across your heat.
She removed her fingers from your mouth and you caught your breath, fingers digging into her upper thighs as you braced yourself. As one hand kept your folds spread, the other, spit-slicked, began rubbing slow circles against you. You gasped at the sensation, mumbling her name in amazement. You raised your hand to the back of her head; grabbing a hold of her braid to simply have a hold of something, but it earned you a particularly sweet noise from the girl behind you. Your hips rocked back against her movements trying to find more friction in the right place, and Bada slowly sped up, moving her wrist up and down to try and find the spot that did it for you. Her lips pressed against the back of your neck so tenderly, and something about the dichotomy between that and the way she was touching you between your legs made your eyes roll back; lids closing as you thrusted back against her hand.
You didn’t understand how she was able to build up to that familiar knot in your stomach so soon, and it almost made you feel embarrassed, until you realized Bada was savoring every second of it. Her eyes never left your form, as if she were studying just another choreography, lips parted in an awestruck way. You had long foregone the urge to keep quiet, vocalizing exactly what she was doing to you: You let a particularly loud moan leave you when she rubbed along your most sensitive spot. Trying to pull more sounds from you, she pressed against your clit with more force and rubbed faster. Your hips could only chase her touch as your lower stomach constricted.
Bada brought her hand up to her own lips and lapped at her fingers, effectively pausing her motions for a split second and thus drawing a broken whine from you; both because her hand wasn’t where you needed it to be and also because she had no qualms about having you in her mouth. It didn’t last long: she hushed you soothingly as she put her hand back where you felt it belonged and used the added wetness to add faster friction against your clit. Your head rolled back and you tugged at her braid, pulling an attractive groan from the girl behind you.
You weren’t far away anymore. Your lower stomach was unbearably tight with desire and you were a gyrating, frantic mess against her hand while her fingers rubbed against you in vertical swipes, her name falling from your lips repeatedly as if you were reciting a prayer.
You managed to utter an “I’m close”, and Bada crowded against you before you could start begging her for release. “Come for me.” She demanded, and then immediately captured your mouth in a desperate kiss, teeth clashing together while she drank your sweet moans.
As if on cue, the tension in your stomach imploded and you gave her braid a sharp pull. You gasped into her mouth, no longer kissing each other but rather breathing each other's air, as your orgasm rippled through you.
You felt your whole body quiver and shake in pleasure as Bada led you through your release, thighs trembling despite the hold the choreographer’s legs had on you. Her fingers hadn’t left your core, but the rubbing slowed down until you were gasping at the overstimulation, yet unwilling to make her hands leave you. As if she read your mind her movements came to a halt, but she pressed her palm against you; almost possessively. She planted kisses along the side of your throat, whispering praises against your skin as you caught your breath.
Once you had the rise and fall of your chest under control, her arms curled around your waist in a fond embrace, and you turned your head to look directly at her. She had already been staring at you, meeting your eyes with a bashful smile. The two of you laughed at each other, and Bada pressed your foreheads together.
“That,” You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you relished in her open affection: “Was amazing, thank you.”
“Was happy to do it.” She responded playfully, rubbing the tip of your noses together affectionately.
“Will this happen every time I get self-deprecating?”
“I definitely intend to do this more often, but you could also just ask nicely.” Bada retorted with a smirk before pecking your lips. You giggled, putting your hands over hers and leaning back into the embrace.
After several more shared kisses and hushed whispers, both of you decided to get a move on: you were starting to get cold in your exposed state so Bada urged you to get up. She helped you step back in your clothes, a smug self-satisfied grin never leaving her face when she noticed the unsteady wobble in your legs.
When you pulled your bra and top back over your breasts, Bada pouted. You gave her a playful shove but she caught your arms instead, bringing them around her neck as her own enveloped your waist.
“Wanna grab dinner?” Her eyes were round and hopeful.
“I would love that.” You replied, and gave her a kiss.
As the both of you tidied up the practice room and gathered your things, Bada listing off food suggestions in the background, your eyes slid to the table at the front of the room.
A familiar device remained perched on the edge, a small green light lighting up proudly.
“Hey, Bada.”
“Hm?”
“Camera’s still recording.”
She stumbled over looking mortified, snatching the device off the table and rewinding haphazardly.
“Oh, fuck.”
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Your stories have definitely scratched that Astarion itch that I've had since I started the game!
One thing that's diffently not sat right with me at the end of the game, is how tav and the gang don't run after astarion after he loses his immunity to the sun. I would imagine that if the player character was romantically involved with the guy they would atleast try to shield or comfort the poor guy. A short drabble on that would be awesome!
That's so sad, I heard that's what happens 😭😭 I'm in act 3 and haven't had to see it for myself yet so yes, let's do some preemptive therapy there! And just warning since I haven't beaten the game yet I'm sure this will be inaccurate as fuck, but also with spoilers somehow ~
~
It was an exhilarating feeling, to win against all odds. One that Astarion had never been confident he would experience. It felt good, final. The official beginning of his new free life, even if it was bittersweet.
This was the bitter part, the end of his illithid protection. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the burn was already starting. He was being an idiot, standing there with the rest of you like he belonged, waiting for the last possible second before he had to scuttle down in the darkness. But he wanted to see this out. Hadn't he earned that right?
According to the laws of reality, no. No he hadn't, because you had barely opened your mouth before the pain started to overwhelm him. The others would be able to hear it, the sickening sound of his skin crackling.
He was out of time. But before he could make a break for it, you happened. Astarion had been a little preoccupied with his impending doom to pay close attention to what you had been mumbling. But then sudden blackness was blanketing above your heads, opaque enough to make it as dark as night.
Astarion's eyes widened as the pain subsided, surprised beyond belief.
You were looking at him with concern in your eyes, gesturing to the think cloud of darkness above your head, "Will this be dark enough? Can it still get through?"
Astarion stared at you, momentarily confused on why you would do something like that. Before he remembered, oh. Yes. The extended care for his well-being was probably included in the whole love thing. Of course. Obviously.
That was definitely going to take some getting used to.
But the reasoning didn't stop an idiotic smile from blooming on his face.
You grinned back at him, somehow still managing to read his mind even without the tadpoles, "Did you really think I would forget about you?"
He had, but through no fault of your own. One of these days he was going to actually remember that he was worth the effort to keep alive.
"Thank you darling," Astarion said, ignoring the quested as he waltzed up to you. He grabbed your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss, "Just what would I do without you?"
"Speaking of," You turned to the Emperor, a question in your eyes as you vaguely waved upward, "Is there anything we can do about this particular problem?"
"The astral tadpole is still-"
"I'll pass on that, thank you very much," Astarion interrupted, cringing at the very thought of willingly letting another worm into his brain, "But I appreciate the thought."
There were worse things than living his life in darkness. And Astarion was counting becoming a mind flayer in the top three.
He watched, participated even in everyone's final goodbyes, always eyeing you at of the corner of his eye. It's not that he thought you would leave after you both declared your eternal love for each other, but... the two of you hadn't exactly talked about the specifics of the future either.
But that didn't stop you from leaving together. Astarion hadn't expected you to keep the dark cloud above his head as you walked the streets, startling nearly every passerby. But hells, the heroes of Baldur's gate had earned the right to a little strangeness.
You both had decided on going to the nearest, most windowless inn that you could find. Astarion wanted nothing more than to scrub the brain viscera from his skin and sleep for three days. Preferably with you in his arms.
But before all that... he had to know something.
The question was out of him as soon as you both were behind closed doors, "So what happens next to the great hero of Baldur's Gate? I'm sure you have something in mind."
He was just praying those future plans still involved him.
You blinked at him, head cocked like he was asking a silly question, "We go and find you a cure so you can walk in the sun again of course. What else would we do?"
That took Astarion aback, "I-Do you think that's really possible?"
"Well," You started, counting off on your fingers, "We know that illithid powers can do it. As well as devil contacts and ritualistic demon sacrifices. If that's all possible then that means there has to be something else on the other end of the spectrum, right?"
Astarion didn't exactly share your blind confidence. But you did have a point. The two of you had managed so many impossible feats in such a short amount of time. What was one more?
"I suppose there's a chance," Astarion said, hope fluttering in his chest with every word, "And if there is a chance no matter how small, I'm going to take it. But..."
He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know, "Are you sure this is what you want? I would... understand if you wanted to go your own way."
In all honesty, Astarion would not understand. He'd be absolutely furious. Especially after everything you'd been through. This was more of a confirmation for his waning self-confidence than anything else, versus a sincere to desire to let you go your own way. He had no intention of letting you go, not if he could help it.
But his near certainty in your feelings was the only thing that gave him the confidence to ask the question in the first place. And you did not disappoint.
"No, this is what I want," You insisted, reaching out to take his hand in yours, "You're what I want."
That was exactly what Astarion needed to hear. He used your joined hands to tug you closer, face to face.
"Good, because as selfless as I am, I really did not want to let you go," Astarion smiled, leaning in to lightly press a kiss to your lips, "I hope you realize that my love has made me a tad bit obsessed with you my dear."
"I'm sure it's no worse than me," You sighed, resting your forehead against his own, "You've really ruined me for anyone else haven't you?"
Astarion grinned, leaning in for another kiss. He had every intention of making it stay that way, for as long as you would have him.
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Your Thomas Shelby's younger inexperienced wife and you are both experimenting in the bedroom and he lets you choke him 🥵
Oh absolutely...!
God I can't wait to write this. Thank you for your request! I hope you like it :-)
Show Me How Much You Need Me || Thomas Shelby x Reader
Part One!
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected P in V, choking, light spanking i guess??, face slapping, age gap, degrading language, swearing / vulgar language, kinda mild breeding kink, daddy kink, squirting, mild overstimulation sort of, oral sex (f receiving), arranged marriage, very very very very vague implications of dubcon sort of but like not really but just be warned! adult content. (sorry if I missed any warnings)
18+ Minors DNI
To your parents, being unmarried at the age of twenty was absolutely unacceptable. So on your birthday, they had men lining up around the block, both old and young alike, hoping to be your husband. Now there were some good candidates, not that you had a choice in who you were going to marry. Your parents were control freaks, deciding they were going to decide for you. But as soon as Thomas Shelby walked into the room, cigarette hanging loosely out of his lips, a trail of smoke following him and a huge wad of cash in hand and then tossing it down in front of my parents, acting like he owned the place... You knew no one else stood a chance.
Now you'd been married for a month, Tommy was an insatiable man. He got what he wanted when he wanted. You remember the look in his eyes on your wedding night when you told him you were a virgin, he nearly came in his trousers at the thought of your tight pussy. You've had sex pretty much twice a day or more ever since, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Tommy showed you how to fuck, how to suck his cock, showed you how to please a man. Of course, the only man you would ever be allowed to please would be Tommy himself. You were hesitant to marry him, you were also slightly afraid of him but as you got to know each other, got to spend more time together as husband and wife, you appreciated his company, and you could even see yourself beginning to love him. But lately the sex between you had started to die down, Tommy being busy dealing with the peaky blinders and all their drama, you'd only have sex every other day or so. Which for you guys, wasn't a lot. But you knew he was tired, it wasn't cause he wasn't attracted to you anymore.
It was pouring rain outside as you both quietly sat in bed, Tommy read his novel quietly, glasses sitting on the edge of his nose while you brushed through your hair, topless and only in some thin white panties for him. There was a visible wet patch from your arousal, you were always wet when you were near Tommy, he just had that affect over you. He thought it was cute how easily excitable you are. You were incredibly needy, now that you'd had a taste of what it was like to have sex, you were constantly asking for it, constantly trying to get his attention. Poor little inexperienced thing you were.
"Tommy," You whined, placing your hairbrush on the bedside table and then leaning over, pressing your face into his neck. "Pay attention to me..."
Tommy let out an amused huff, turning another page of his book, not bothering to even spare one glance at you. "What do y'need, love?" He asked gruffly, reaching his spare arm and wrapping it around you, pulling you into him. He knew exactly what you needed, he just wanted to hear you say it. The way you got embarrassed and shy was incredibly sexy to him.
"Need you..." You whispered, placing kisses along the column of his throat.
"Gotta be more specific than that," He closed his book, finally setting it aside along with his glasses. "What do you need from me?"
"I need... you..." You were flustered, burying your face in his bare chest but he grabbed you by the nape of the neck like you were a kitten and pulled your head up, forcing you to look at him. "I need you to fuck me... Tommy..."
"Is that so?" He chuckled, running a thumb over your bottom lip which you innocently popped into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. You weren't doing intentionally to turn him on, you just liked the way it felt to suck on something, especially if that something was Tommy's thumb. But the sight was suggestive, Tommy wished it was his cock in your mouth instead. "Fuckin' hell, alright, sit in me lap, I'll give you what ye need."
You continued sucking on his thumb, keeping eye contact with him as he pulled down his sleep shorts and pulled down your underwear. "Go on then, take what ya came here for." Tommy pulled his wet thumb away, shoving it between your folds and rubbing your clit, making you weak in the knees. He had so much power over you. So you grabbed onto his shoulders before holding the head of his dick before lining up with the leaky tip and sinking down on him. You watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as you squeezed around him. "Easy, girl." He warned, his cock twitching inside you, he could cum from just how tight you were. God he fucking loved that his cock was the only one you'd ever taken, loved the way you stretched around him.
"Fuck... so deep..." You sat on him for just a moment, adjusting to the feeling. Even though you'd taken him plenty of times, your cunt just hadn't gotten use to the sheer size and girth of him. It made you feel like you were being torn open in the most beautiful way possible. "T-Tommy..."
"Ride me, slut, go on... show me how much you need me." He slapped your ass harshly before grabbing a handful of it and encouraging your hips to start grinding against him. "Such a pretty girl."
You moved your hips back and forth, a bit shy at first as you did so but as more and more pleasure began to build in your stomach, your dignity went out the window as you began desperately bouncing on his cock. Tommy had never seen you so hungry for it before, he just leaned back against the bed, his hands gripping your waist as you took what you wanted.
Your tits bounced right in front of his face and Tommy thought to himself this was the greatest view in the world. His pretty little wife fucking herself and her perfect tits moving in sync with her movements. He let out gravelly groans as you sunk back down on him, sweaty, you froze for a moment to catch your breath. This was still all so new to you, still such an innocent little thing. You still need Tommy's help to get off sometimes, not quite strong enough yet to ride him all on your own.
"Tommy..." You whispered with a small whine. "Need your help..." Your flushed cheeks and blown out pupils were a sign of how lost in the moment you were. He just smiled as he pushed you down onto your back and threw your legs over his shoulders. His cock pressing even deeper into your pussy, somehow. You could feel him in your stomach.
"This what you want, little girl?" He hummed as he started to fuck in and out of you, impaling you on his dick. "Want me to fuck you like the slut you are?"
You moaned, nodding dumbly as your mind went blank. "Yes! Tommy! Fuck me!" You were incredibly loud and you were lucky no one else was in the house because otherwise they'd hear how loud you were being, when usually you were quite reserved around other people. "Pl-Please put a baby in me Tommy... let me make you a daddy..."
"Fuck..." Tommy could cum at your words, "Yeah?" He panted continuing to piston in and out of you, one of his hands grabbed roughly at your tits, playing with your hard nipple. "Gonna breed you like the bitch that you are." You moaned at his words, arching your back further into him as he gave you another harsh spank to your asscheeks.
"Tommy... gonna cum... please... don't stop!" You sounded like a pornstar, Tommy leaned down and kissed you.
"My pretty little wife," His voice was vibrating through you, the gravel of it making you even wetter. The sound of his cock slipping in and out of your sopping little cunt echoed throughout the room as he leaned down even further and connected his lips to yours once again. He felt your fingers curl around his neck, both hands wrapped around his throat, Tommy was never one to get flustered but the idea of you choking him made his hips stutter as you squeezed around him a bit. "Fuck..." He moaned lowly as you held onto his neck. You looked so sweet in that moment. "Such a stupid little girl, when you're full of cock, don't even know what ye doin, eh?" He fucked into you more, feeling you squeeze around him. Your hands held onto his throat as if you were holding him on a leash.
You were a writhing mess, shaking underneath him, only choking him further. You looked at how pretty he looked with your hands wrapped around his throat and how flushed his face was, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as his hips bruised your pelvis. "Daddy...!" You moaned out, experimentally, waiting to see his reaction. You had always fantasized about calling him it but you were always too nervous to do so. But right now you were drunk on the pleasure, too fucked out to care.
"Fuck... say that again... gonna fuckin' fill you up, love." Tommy was just as desperate as you now, chasing his own high as you started to convulse around him, your orgasm unraveling, he lightly slapped you across the face, hard enough to break you out of your daze but not enough to actually do any damage. "Fuckin' do what I say!" You clenched tighter around him, cumming even harder at the sound of him yelling at you. Him being angry at you shouldn't be so hot but it was.
"Sorry... s-sorry... daddy!" You sobbed out as you gushed around his cock that began leaking cum. "Please... cum in me, please daddy..."
"That's right, baby..." He was rutting into you now, hips moving into you hard yet slow. "I'm yer daddy." He let out a deep mewl as he came inside you, making you moan even louder, your voice hoarse and your throat sore as you let go of his throat, collapsing your arms back. Tommy fucked his cum deep into you despite the sensitivity of his cock. Slowly pulling out of you, he pushed your legs against your chest to look down at the slick between your legs. A little bit of cum dripped out of your stretched out hole, earning you two fingers pushing it back into you, you just whimpered, a bit overstimulated.
"Think I gotta get a taste of your pussy now, love," He hummed getting down on his tummy, face aligned perfectly as he moved his fingers in a 'come hither' movement. You gasped, he was hitting your g-spot each time.
"Fuck, tommy!"
"Eh, that's not me name right now." He looked at you warningly before unhinging his jaw and attaching his hot mouth to your sensitive clit again.
"Oh daddy! 'S too much, too much... please..." You couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop or to keep going, it was all too much for your brain to comprehend. You were seeing hot flashes of white, your body going completely limp as another orgasm washed over you, rendering you helpless to the pleasure that was consuming you from the inside out. "D-Daddy..." You dumbly moaned.
"Tastes so fuckin good, keep cummin' on my face." His nose brushed your clit as he licked up your juices and you came again and again and again. Extremely overstimulated. "Just gimme one more, baby then I'll leave you alone." You were unresponsive, nodding your head weakly, wanting to be good for him. "Such a good girl for daddy, aren't ya?" He made out with your gushing sex, adding a third finger.
And suddenly you felt it burst out of you, drenching his hair, face, and the sheets underneath you. Squirting all over his face and just as you thought it was over, it just kept on coming. Your mouth agape in a silent scream of pleasure, he drank it all up, continuing to slurp at your pussy until it finally ended. He pulled away, leaning back on his ankles, Tommy had a very pleased look on his face, your squirt dripping down his chin and his chest sticky with your cum and the sheets soaking wet. "That was the best bloody thing to ever happen to me." He huffed, licking his wet fingers. You laid there, tears streaming down your face and twitching gently, still coming down. He laid down beside you. "You did so good f'me, so good, you're alright, I'm here."
He held you as you continued to shake, waiting for you to calm down a bit. "I've never done that before..." You whimpered, pussy throbbing, full of cum, and sopping wet.
He gave you a loud genuine laugh, still sticky with your juices as he kissed you. "I'm gonna make you squirt over and over and over again every time we fuck now, just so you know."
You giggled at his words, he was gonna be the death of you.
-
I know there wasn't a whole lot of 'experimenting' or choking so i'm sorry! But I hope you enjoyed anyway!!
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Jealous Mizu Headcanons
Disclaimer: A tad bit of NSFW is included in this so be warned
A/N: again, i apologize for not getting anything super extensive out. I thank you all for being so patient and so sweet!!
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Mizu’s not the type to be outwardly jealous.
She’ll get jealous but she won't say much about it, she’ll just let it fester inside her quietly until it gets to be too much and she needs an outlet.
More often than not that outlet is fighting (more on that later)
She would never think to label you as “hers”, you’re not an object that she can possess.
However, when it comes to other people being around you, she finds it very tempting to start.
Before either of you confessed, you had already made up a plan to act like you were a couple to avoid unwanted stares from men and women alike.
Turns out Mizu enjoyed that much more than she thought she would.
God help the person that decides to flirt with you while she's around
If that person happened to be Taigen? Forget the duel that man's dying TONIGHT
Mizu of course would recognize that you’re your own person and you can choose to be with whoever you want… but the thought of you choosing TAIGEN of all people is not a thought that would allow her to sleep well at night.
She would claim its for no other reason than she thinks you deserve better than a man who abandoned his engagement for honor
She wouldn’t be wrong but you wouldn’t have even been interested in Taigen in the first place so her coming up with all these reasons why you shouldn’t choose him would just be outing herself.
She refuses to come to terms with the fact that she feels jealous about anything
She would be deep in denial for as long as she could manage until someone finally calls her out on it.
Her jealousy causes her to become a tad bit possessive
She’s not the most secure person in the world when it comes to relationships no matter how hard she pretends to be
She would go above and beyond to try and make sure no one was going to try and lure you away from her.
NSFW Headcanons
(Pretty vague in favor of remaining gender neutral)
Remember how I said “More often than not that outlet is fighting”
Well the alternative to that involves you
It would be less about being possessive over you and instead it would be her way of proving to you she can give you more pleasure than anyone else
And she would without a doubt prove that successfully
She might not be incredibly experienced but you wouldn't have been able to tell that by the way she treated you
Despite her feelings she would actually be extremely gentle with you
It’s not your fault she's mad that other people also find you attractive, so she’d have no reason to be angry with you.
Which means praise. Lots and lots of praise
Constantly reminding you how pretty/handsome you look while beneath her
What, you thought she wasn’t going to pin you down? That’s like her signature move at this point, she’s GOING to be on top.
She would take an opportunity handed to her to tease you and usually that meant one of two things
She teased you with compliments
Or she teased you by stopping what she’s doing all together and having you beg for her to continue
Just cause she’s not mad at you doesn’t mean she can’t mess with you a little
Considering before this point she wouldn’t have been so open about her feelings you would’ve been taken by surprise
She would find it incredibly entertaining if you got embarrassed by all the sudden attention she started giving you
As rough as she deals with things in her everyday life I think she’d be a service dom honestly, in this specific instance at least.
She wants you and she wants you to know that.
She wants to sear it into your brain so any time you even so much as look at someone else all you’d get is a flashback to how good you felt with her.
She would not let you do anything for her, she wants to focus on you and only you
She would just enjoy knowing she was making you feel good and that’s all she’d need
If you tried keeping quiet, she would persuade you into letting go, she wants other people to know that she was the one making you feel good
Needless to say if Taigen had attempted to flirt with you before, he definitely knew not to now.
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Hi I’ve been watching Hazbin Hotel and I found your blog which is amazing by the way , and I was wondering what are your thoughts on yandere Alastor ?
Thanks babe! ^^ so i was discussing this with someone recently and, to avoid doing that thing where I have too any concepts on the same post, I'm going to stick with a specific idea I've had of him recently which I will call "canon accurate yandere Alastor"
imma be honest and say this version would fucking suck depending on your preferences because he
-doesn't love you romantically and doesn't let YOU date
-doesn't wanna fuck you either AND DOESN'T LET YOU FUCK ANYONE ELSE EITHER
-probably does not consider you an equal by any means, like he considers you a good friend and you're charming and lovely and whatever, but he sees you like.... you'd be puking into a trashcan and he's the one holding your hair back, "now see my dear, this is why you shouldn't go out drinking without a proper escort~" like there's a vague layer of condescension and there's a huge massive power balance and experience balance between you two
Like. He's. He's kind of condescendingly cunty to you, he's vaguely looking at you with the energy of "MacKenzie oh my gosh MacKenzie you're so drunk, you're wasted, oh my god let me drive you home, no girl I'm taking your keys, you're too--" like do you get what I mean? He's a traditional gentleman and he comes along and uh, he thinks he sees this raw potential and charm inside of you that he thinks is being wasted by your modern lifestyle which can literally include
- your diet
-your tech use or what you use from day to day
- how you dress
-how you TALK
-how you spend your time
-who you hang out with
Just picture he meets you, you catch his eye, maybe you're at the hotel, and he's entertained by your sarcastic witty replies to his antics that maybe even get a chuckle out of him. You're a spitfire and he likes that!
.... and then the next time he sees you you're like vaping weed from a pen, looking at him with half lidded eyes, playing a game on your phone, too scattered to fully hold a conversation with him, to focus, to be as entertaining to him as before, and he's grinding the teeth in his smile, "oh no, this won't do at all", especially when he sees negative affects such maybe you're watching things he doesn't approve of or you're being harassed idk
I feel like since Alastor canonically drinks and is quite a heavyweight apparently, he wouldn't mind his darling drinking, but he would definitely control how much after a while. If you get too wasted in front of him too many times, he'll completely cut you off. Folks are you aware that getting too drunk can cause an alcohol induced panic attack that can literally take away your ability to move your hands and arms and make your mouth numb. I found this out recently :) whoops. And I feel like Alastor sees that shit and you'd have to EARN HIS TRUST for him to let you drink again and uh, I don't think that's possible
You're kind of like a bestie but you're also like a toy he's playing with and he doesn't like to share. He'll drag you away from doing other things with other people, especially if he doesn't approve of what you're doing and or with whom. He basically views you dating other people as lowering yourself to people who are beneath you and would only want you to give yourself to someone who deserves you, and he doesn't think ANYONE deserves you except him, and he DOESNT LIKE YOU THAT WAY so the man is just like FORCING CELIBACY ON YOU. Like have you ever seen videos of people taking their domesticated lovely groomed pets outdoors and like a stray or even wild animal version of it comes along to. Hump. And the owner is freaking out, "get the fuck AWAY I don't know where you've been" or at least Should? THAT'S Alastor watching 'other people trying to predate upon you' aka YOU trying to get laid or date
You'll be cooking something and he'll come up and try some without asking, "Hah! This is terrible!" and either watch you so he can tell you what he thinks you did wrong once the dish is finished or he takes over and asserts that he wants to show you to do it "the proper way!" and if you're female he potentially inserts a comment about how as a lovely lady you should know your way around a kitchen (in like a positive "I'll show you so you can know for yourself" way but like the underlying misogyny is there lol)
He'll take you out drinking and dancing but don't you dare let him catch you throwing it back or being mildly sexual, or he'll immediately tell you you've had too much to drink and take you home and you two spend the rest of the night like drinking tea listening to the radio, reading books, or watching old timey TV.
Lastly... I can absolutely see Alastor making some kind of deal with his darling for their soul. He CAN do that (and I think technically anyone in Hell can deal with souls, it's apparently part of the becoming an Overlord process). But I can just see him taking his darling's soul in exchange for anything, it might be really small, it might be really important, but he sees it as safeguarding your beautiful lovely little soul from anyone else who might take it. It truly is like THE HIGHEST FORM OF OWNING YOU, CONTROLLING YOU. It's all according to whatever is in the deal, but I'm sure there's other basic caveats you get... like him being able to summon you at will if you agree to it so he's randomly yanking you away from other people or tracking you when he doesn't know when you are.... or restraining you so you stop running away from him and running out on the town to act so... vulgar
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Hello! I’ve always been curious about the “human in a space shuttle somehow ends up on a cybertronian ship and all the bots are trying to figure out what this random metal this is while the human is terrified” plot.
It would be interesting to see it played out with any character, but for the sake of direction, I’d like to request this with the Lost Light Crew?
It could be vore if that’s what you feel like wrong at the time, but I’d also go for some good ‘ol fearplay.
I apologize if this is too vague, have a good day/night and I love your writing!
Thank you for the request Glitch! I hope this is up to your expectations! I hope you don't mind that I picked specific members of the Lost Light crew to include in this story. Feedback is always appreciated! Have a great day/night as well! :D
Doctor’s (And Scientist’s) Orders
Pairing: IDW Ratchet, IDW Perceptor, and IDW First Aid x Human Reader
Word Count: 3115
Summary: You are a teacher who is being sent from Earth to a colony on Mars. A new life as an educator for the red planet’s children is on your horizon…until you are thrown terribly off course and end up in the bowels of the Lost Light. All seems lost for you when you find yourself injured and cut off from human society, at the mercy of the three Cybertronians who end up finding you and taking you in, whether you want them to or not.
The first thing you hear when you come to is the horrid screeching of your ship's alarms.
You groan and sit up. Smoke and flickering emergency lights greet you when you open your eyes. Electricity sparks from the stasis tank you were asleep in. Gas spurts from the ceiling, and everything is strewn about with the chaotic air of a tornado that just tore through an entire town.
“Warning,” your ship’s AI urgently alerts. “Breach detected. Damage is collateral. Warning-warning-” It sputters and fizzles out.
You rub the back of your head and feel something warm and sticky coat your palm. When you pull your hand back to take a closer look, you see blood.
Shit. That’s not good.
Standing up makes you feel like you are going to puke. Your head throbs and every breath you take sends piercing pain through your chest. Dragging yourself out of the stasis pod takes longer than it should while black spots dot your vision as you stumble to the dashboard and press your hands against it. “Run ship diagnostics,” you manage to rasp. The voice that struggles to exit your mouth is one you hardly recognize. It is thin and strewn with violent coughs. A metallic taste coats your tongue. More blood.
The AI glitches as it attempts to answer you. “Severe damage to hull. Severe damage to engines. Severe damage to thrusters. Life support online, but rapidly depleting. Escape pod offline.”
“Shit,” you breathe. “Try contacting Earth control.”
“Communications systems offline. Attempting self-repairs. Current status…5%.”
“How long until repairs are complete?”
“Estimations indicate repairs will be completed in…5 days.”
Not good. Not good at all. You push yourself away from the dashboard and take in all that has happened. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. When you were chosen to be sent to Earth’s Mars colony as a teacher for the young children growing up on the red planet, you thought it would be a smooth seven month trip with you peacefully slumbering away in stasis. You were supposed to be woken up by fellow human beings, not a devastating crash resulting in your ship being decimated. Something must have thrown you off course. A freak asteroid strike probably. Which begs the question…where exactly are you?
Ignoring how much pain you are in, you hobble through the remains of the vessel and head for the airlock doors. They remain tightly shut when you make it to them, hiding the knowledge of where you are from view. “Open the doors,” you call out to the ship.
“Warning. Remaining onboard is strongly recommended. Current exterior environment is unknown.”
“Override. Open the doors.”
The doors whoosh apart. You know there’s oxygen outside. If there hadn’t been, the ship would have prevented you from even entering the airlock chamber in the first place. Stepping off, you expect to see the barren landscape of Mars, or the alien environment of some other planet you might have ended up on. Part of you thinks you might still be on Earth; perhaps something went wrong with the ship before you could even break the Troposphere.
What you see surprises you. You are in some sort of…massive cargo hold.
Gigantic metal crates surround you, most of them exuding a pinkish glow. There are lights on the ceiling far above you, but they are dim, and serve little aid in giving you an estimate of just how large this place is. Turning in a circle, you feel awe fill you. “Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “The ship definitely didn’t crash on Mars.”
Speaking of your ship…you take in the damage. It's an absolute mess of warped, crippled metal doomed to remain collapsed on its side until self-repairs are complete. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for damage of this caliber to be fixed beyond the communications systems. With no way to contact Earth or Mars, you truly are stuck.
You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Calm. You are calm. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, your ship is destroyed. Yes, you are suffering from critical wounds. Yes, you are in an unknown place with seemingly no way out. But you're alive. That’s what matters. And now you just have to survive for five more days.
You hear thumping in the distance.
It takes you a moment to register the pattern of heavy steps that are coming towards you. It’s something alive, you realize with dawning horror. Wherever you are, you have obviously made quite a racket, and now this planet’s local faunal residents are going to seek you out. There’s no way for you to know exactly what sorts of animals live here; any technology you might have used to your advantage is directly connected to the ship. With the ship offline, thus go the tools as well. You are completely in the dark, relying only on the little information about alien lifeforms you have to keep you safe.
You don’t need that information to know you have to hide right now.
You scurry back into the ship, biting back a shout of pain. God, there’s pain everywhere. How have you not passed out yet? Adrenaline does wonders for the human body, you sourly think to yourself when you have to lean against the wall to catch your breath. A hacking cough swells within your chest. When you cover your mouth with your elbow and release it, blood is splattered over your suit sleeve.
That’s when you hear the growling.
It’s unlike anything you have ever heard before. You’ve studied a multitude of animals. You’ve heard big cats roar, wolves howl, hyenas cackle, and birds screech. This is not a growl you can associate with any of those. It…holds similar qualities. But there’s something about it that remains blatantly off.
It sounds strangely like the growl of a machine.
You look outside of the airlock doors, and something huge lumbers out from behind a stack of crates. The first things your brain registers are its red and white armor platings, its bright blue eyes, and the horn-like finials extending from its forehead. It’s humanoid, yet possesses qualities that remove it from any such grouping. This thing is definitely not like you in any sort of way beyond having a face and walking on two legs.
“It’s…a robot,” you whisper. It’s a giant fucking robot moving all on its own, and looking none too happy to be here.
The mechanical creature snarls, lips upturning to reveal sharp canines that are probably longer than your arms. It hasn’t noticed you yet. Its focus is trained on the datapad it holds in its hands. Your mind is blown. This is obviously a member of a clearly intelligent race. Have you just discovered a new extraterrestrial species?
The robot looks up. At first, its eyes scan the crates around you, and it doesn't seem to notice the little ship nestled between them. You remain still, prey instinct taking its course and demanding you freeze where you are. Hopefully it will just move on…
It backtracks, and to your utter horror, it makes direct eye contact with you.
Fucking shit, you think.
The robot stares at you with an expression of pure shock. You stare right back with an equal amount of terror.
It steps towards you. That’s all it takes for you to scream at the ship. “Close the airlock doors! Close them now!”
The doors slam shut. You hear a shout from the robot, and everything shakes as it thunders forward. You stumble and fall with agony ripping through your poor body when you make contact with the floor. The cry that leaves you is riddled with pain.
“A-Activate self-defense protocol!” you order the ship.
“Self-defense protocols offline,” it says back.
“Well, how long until they are online?!”
“Estimated time equals…ten hours.”
“That’s not enough!” you scream rawly.
A gentle tapping echos from the other side of the doors.
You push yourself back, heart pounding as you listen to the robot move all around you. It’s growling softly to itself, and you can hear it touching the ship, running massive mechanical fingers across the walls that act as the only barrier between you and potential doom.
You don’t know what to do. Panic makes you frantic and you desperately try to think of how you can get yourself away from the monster outside. You have no way to defend yourself. You can’t even run. This thing wants you out, and you know it has the power to rip your ship apart in order to get to you if it wishes for it.
Suddenly, everything rocks. Your stomach drops when the entire ship shakes and you feel it being lifted into the air. Realization of what is happening hits you: it’s picking it up. If it can’t get you, it’ll just have to take everything.
“Nononono!” you cry out. The ship tips a little, and you slam into a wall with a grunt. “Stop!” You bang your fists against the metal. “Put it down! Put it down now!”
The robot simply growls in reply. You don’t even know if it hears you. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. You slump back and cover your face as hot, helpless tears finally begin running down your cheeks.
“What exactly is it?” First Aid asks as he peers down at the mangled hunk of metal sitting before them on the medibay berth.
“It’s a ship,” Perceptor flatly replies with a silent “What else would it be?” evident in his tone.
“This is a ship?” First Aid looks horrified. “But it's completely destroyed! How could it have gotten here?”
“It must have crashed during our last refueling.” Perceptor lays his servos over the top of the ship, examining it closely. He huffs and straightens, looking at Ratchet. “Where did you find it?”
“The cargo hold,” the medic replies. “I was down there searching for some extra medical supplies I know we have stored. I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for what’s inside.”
“There’s something alive in there?” First Aid gasps.
“A human,” Ratchet replies. “It locked itself inside when it saw me.”
“Impossible.” Perceptor shakes his helm. “Humans are an endangered species that only occupy a small sector of a primitive solar system. They don’t have the technology to make it this far out in space.”
“Well, clearly they do. I know what I saw. These old optics aren’t that far gone.” Ratchet raps his knuckles gently against the ship. All three mechs have to lean in close so they can hear the soft squeak from inside.
“How do we get it out?” First Aid asks. “It could be hurt!”
“It is hurt,” Ratchet answers. “I saw it before it hid itself away. I don’t know how severe the injuries are, but I know it's in pain.”
“Then what are we waiting for? We need to help it!” First Aid presses his forehelm against the ship and whispers softly. “Hello, little human? Please don’t be afraid! We aren’t going to hurt you!”
A whimper is all he gains in reply.
Perceptor crosses his arms. “I can force it out, but you won’t like how I do it.”
“You can’t hurt it,” Ratchet sharply snaps. “That would be cruel.”
“I’m not going to hurt it,” the scientist bites back. “I’m simply going to pump a nontoxic gas into the ship that will cause it to eventually lose consciousness. It will have no choice but to come out, and then we can go on from there.”
“Are…are you sure?” First Aid wrings his servos nervously. “I don’t want it to be scared of us.”
“Whether it’s scared of us or not doesn’t matter,” Ratchet says. “It’s injured, and if we don’t do something, it’ll succumb to those injuries. It’ll understand we don’t want to hurt it after we patch it up.” He nods to Perceptor. “Go ahead, smoke it out.”
The scientist’s right servo transforms into a syringe. Ratchet watches with anxiousness churning in his tank as Perceptor presses his left index digit against the side of the ship and presses a small hole straight through with little resistance to stop him. A terrified shout from the human within causes First Aid to whimper.
Perceptor sticks the upper part of the syringe into the hole, pumping gas into the ship and pulling it back out after a moment, wisps of vapor trailing from the tip. A few seconds later Ratchet hears a string of weak coughs from inside. There is a tense moment where all three of them stand there, and then the doors open and you stumble out with a cloud of gas nearly enveloping your tiny form. You wheeze into your servos, then notice the mechs staring at you and try sprinting right back into the ship. Perceptor cuts you off, slamming his servo down and pinning you under his digits before dragging you back even though you yelp and thrash. You squirm one last time in his grip before suddenly going limp.
Perceptor gently shifts you to lie in the center of his palm. For a terrifying moment, Ratchet thinks you are offline when he sees how still you are with your optics closed. But then his sensors pick up on the rapid beating of your organic spark, and he relaxes. Not dead. Just simply unconscious.
“Give it here.” He holds out a waiting servo. Perceptor hands you over; you are given a quick look-over as Ratchet scans your body. There is a nasty cut on the back of your helm, and your vents are gravely bruised with terrible red marks. “Internal bleeding,” he mutters. “As well as external wounds. The crash really messed it up.” He curls his digits lightly over you and brushes his thumb over your forehead. “Doesn’t have a fever though, which is good. Damage is minimal, nothing life threatening. I can have it fixed in a few hours.”
“You know how to heal organics?” First Aid questions.
“I’ve been around for a long time. War changes you. I’ve had my equal share of saving Decepticon-ravaged planets inhabited by organics as well as machines.” Ratchet walks over to another berth, being careful not to jostle you too much. “First Aid, go grab the restrainers. We’ll have to keep it still so it doesn’t accidentally hurt itself when it wakes up.”
“You’ll have to keep it sedated too,” Perceptor says. “I can help with that. Just a little puff of the gas will keep it asleep.”
“Thank you,” Ratchet says, then pauses. “Listen. Don’t tell anyone about this yet. I don’t want everyone flocking into the medibay and stressing it out. We could accidentally scare this thing to death if we aren’t careful.”
“I won’t.” Perceptor nods. “Just…make sure it heals properly. I don’t doubt your expertise, but…” He looks down at you, and his optics soften. “It hurts my spark to see something so small in so much pain.”
First Aid returns with the restrainer. It’s a small mechanism that runs on magnetic power, created by the Lost Light’s resident mad scientist, Brainstorm himself. Ratchet places it directly over your lax form. With a quiet beep, it presses lightly over your midsection, and magnetic bindings weigh down your ankles and wrists. Seeing you trapped like this makes him feel guilty. This obviously isn’t going to be something you will like when you wake up. But there’s no other way for this to go. You won’t understand his good intentions until he heals you. Until then, he has to keep you still.
He grabs a small serum of glowing blue liquid and bends over you, gently pinching your little fleshy cheeks and working your intake open. “C’mon little one, drink up,” he whispers when he carefully forces the liquid down your throat. He sees your faceplate tighten with discomfort, but your throat pulses as you subconsciously swallow. “There you go. Good human, good human.”
“What are you giving it?” First Aid asks.
“Something I learned to make back in my early days,” he replies. “It heals from the inside. Works on both organics and machines.” He pats your cheeks praisingly and draws away. “There. That should help with the bleeding. It’ll be fine now. I’ll continue to monitor it over the next few days.”
First Aid exhales a relieved sigh. Perceptor reaches out a tentative hand and brushes your hair away from your closed optics. “It’s so small…so soft…”
“We have to be careful with it,” First Aid frets. “We don’t want it to break.”
“Listen.” Ratchet’s tone hardens authoritatively. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. We have to keep this between the three of us. Don’t tell anyone about a human being in here.”
“But what about the captain?” First Aid asks. “Shouldn’t he know?”
“The captain can’t know. If he finds out there's a human on the ship, he’ll go nuts with excitement and probably end up accidentally crushing the poor thing. Until I confirm it’s not going to drop dead at any moment, we keep it a secret. Got it?”
Both bots nod. Ratchet nods with them. “Alright. I’m going to stay here and make sure it’s condition remains stable. You can come back tomorrow to check in on it and see how it’s doing.”
Perceptor dips his head and leaves without another word. First Aid lingers, optics never leaving you.
“It’ll be fine,” Ratchet reassures him. “I’ll take care of it. Go recharge.”
It takes a lot for the other medic to step back and exit the medibay. Ratchet watches him go, then sighs and drags a servo over his faceplate. Becoming the caretaker of an injured organic lifeform was not something he had planned for today. Primus, how the hell am I going to tell Rodimus?
A soft noise drags his attention away from the alarming thought of what might happen if the extroverted captain learns about his new “crewmate.” He looks down at you and startles a bit. Your eyes, foggy and unfocused, are staring right at him. There’s a fatigued expression of utter terror on your face that once again has his spark feeling like it's been ripped from his chassis and stomped on.
“You’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. “I promise.”
You close your eyes and let your helm loll to the side. Ratchet watches the soft rise and fall of your chassis for a few moments longer, then dims the medibay lights and returns to his previous work on the other side of the room.
Never do you stray far from his mind.
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i love sabo being half blind specifically bcuz it's his left side and i am half blind on my left irl too. tho my blindness is different than sabo's i'm sure, bcuz the way u draw his eye looks like a cateract [like the fire burnt the cateract, makes sense] so he can probably sense light and see very vague blob of color, whereas my left eye blindness is central blindness with peripheral vision intact. anyways. [sticks sabo into my very special 'left eye blind characters' pocket]
I really love the half-blind sabo a lot. He means lots to meeeeee
Im glad you cans see representation for your condition through my mentally ill bestie here.
I’m also glad that the cataract eye i gave him makes sense, cuz like i knew that thats what cataracts looks like but also i just wanted to do give him one for stylizing purposes cuz it look cool. So im glad it works out in a way that makes sense.
Thanks for the ask!
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Hi!!! Absolutely love your writing :)
Idk if you’re taking requests but if you are:
Been having a tough time lately, would it be possible to have the female companions (plus Aylin+Isobel) comforting Tav/Reader during a panic attack?
Thank youuuuuu sending you all the love and good vibes
BG3 Ladies Soothe a Panic Attack
I was honestly unsure I’d ever able to do this prompt justice, especially given how differently every person’s needs are in such a situation. But I felt inspired to give it a shot anyway! I hope it’s alright!
I also send good vibes and well wishes to all my fellow panic attack having soldiers.
In the spirit of trying to keep it vague, this one is pretty short. But without further ado, here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, Jaheira, and Isobel and Aylin!
Shadowheart
Shadowheart knows all the clerical tips and tricks that are gonna get you through this you through this.
As soon as you’re in full blown panic she’s got an ice spell at her fingertips, placing her cold hands on your face especially around the eyes.
She kneels down next to you. “Alright love, I need you to breathe with me,” she commands, modeling the most effective breathing techniques.
She’s very soft, nearly whispering so you have to really focus on her in order to understand what she is saying.
She’s very liberal with her praise, telling you how good you’re doing with every breath you’re able to match.
When the panic subsides, she instructs you to rest. She’ll lay with you if you’d like, but you need to rest for at least a few minutes before proceeding with life as usual.
She brings you food and water, taking the opportunity to make sure you’re taking care of yourself in general. You have to eat and drink at least a little bit before she’ll let you go.
She also wants to have a little chat about the root of the issue. What are some of your triggers? What are some things that help you specifically?
Next time, she’s gonna be prepared.
Lae’zel
Lae’zel is not the gentle type when it comes to these sorts of things, though it’s not something she’s entirely unfamiliar with.
When she sees the panic set in, she’s the first to pull you up to your feet and have you do jumping jacks or something.
While any observers might think she’s being heartless or unemphatic, the adrenaline actually works pretty well to pull you out of the panic fast.
She doesn’t make you feel embarrassed about it at all. She simply squeezes your arms and nods in understanding. It happens to the best of us.
Lae’zel is, shockingly, largely unfazed. You get the sense that she dealt with this before. Perhaps she even dealt with panic attacks herself in her youth.
She thinks it’s best to resume normal activities immediately, though she’ll secretly be keeping a special eye on you the rest of the day.
Karlach
In seeing your unbridled panic, Karlach starts to get a little panicked herself.
She just doesn’t really have any experience with this sort of thing and is completely unsure of what to do.
Her first instinct is to hold you, but if you put up any sort of resistance at all she backs off immediately.
Whether you are in her arms or simply next to her, she whispering words of affirmation. But she’s unable to come up with much more than “it’s okay, soldier. It’s gonna be okay. You’ve got this.”
When you’re no longer gripped by panic, she’s still not entirely sure what to do. She’ll take your lead completely. Though she’s not entirely convinced that a simple “back to business” is the best course of action.
She’ll probably want to cuddle or at least hold your hand for a while just to make sure you’re truly alright. If she’s being honest, the ordeal gave her quite a scare. But she absolutely will not make this about her right now.
She’s going to be checking in on you pretty consistently over the next couple days. She may even get some pointers from Shadowheart on what to do if it ever happens again.
Minthara
Minthara’s first priority is privacy and protection. Anyone who isn’t her isn’t allowed to come anywhere close to you. Not when you’re this vulnerable.
After everyone is gone and out of earshot, she asks “Would you like to be held?” She speaks with the same tone and cadence she’s always using. Nothing about her softens.
If you say yes, she’ll silently pull you into her arms, allowing you to sob and heave into her chest until you recover.
Pretty much anything you need is fair game. She will not stop you from clutching at her clothes or skin, even if you accidentally hurt her.
If you say no, she’ll simply sit next to you in silence, occupying herself with a silent menial task. She will allow you some space, but she will not leave you entirely alone.
Either way, anyone who values their life will stay away from you; she’ll make sure of it.
You expect her to lecture you about such a blatant display of weakness, but she doesn’t. And anyone who would dare even mention it will receive a glare that makes them think better of it.
Jaheira
Jaheira’s first tactic is similar to that of Lae’zel. She tries to get you moving until the endorphins help you overcome your panic.
It’s honestly frustrating how effective it is. The height of your panic subsides quicker than it ever has before.
She is, however, quite a bit gentler afterwards. She has questions. Is this a frequent occurrence? What triggers your panic? How can we avoid it in future?
When you express to her your concern about your anxiety making you a weak link, she is quick to shut down any doubt that you are less valuable for this.
She’s raised enough children to know it takes all sorts of strengths and weaknesses to round out a team. Even those on the softer side have their purpose.
She eventually convinces to start taking more days off, especially when the task at hand has a high likelihood to push you beyond your limits.
Isobel and Dame Aylin
Dame Aylin pulls you into her arms. Even if you struggle against it at first, she just holds you tightly against her chest and gently shushes your sobs.
Meanwhile, Isobel handles the situation very similarly to Shadowheart, bringing her clerical knowledge in to support you.
She strokes your face with cooled hands, not minding the way tears pour relentlessly down her hands. All while a strong Aylin gently kisses the crown of your head.
Aylin shields you from the world with her wings, only allowing Isobel close. Anyone else will receive a gentle yet firm “Begone.”
When it’s over, Isobel tells you to rest. She’ll probably insist prefer you came back to/stayed at camp with her for the rest of the day.
As loathe as you are to miss out on a day on adventuring, Isobel’s company makes for the best afternoon anyone could ask for.
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Thinking About Ghost Writer's Library ( o.o)
Yeah, that's right folks! It's ya girl! Back on her bullshit, with PONDERING TIME. But like? GW? Is AT BEST? Somewhere around Victorian or Edwardian, given his aesthetic, right? And? Granted! It COULD be, he just vibes SUPER HARD with this Hot New Look(tm).
But like?
He is Baby.
They basically ALL are Baby. It's the... no, A(!) Baby area of the Zone. A place where sentient life is JUST sort of beginning to happen. On the COSMIC, INTERDIMENSIONAL, scale of things. What, after all, is a MERE few millenia? When the average is counting things by Eons? And even WORSE? When your ENTIRE COUNTRY and HISTORY is? What... CENTURIES?
Zygote. You are not but an infant. Back to daycare with you.
Which of course, leads the baby sitters. Even the occasional Adult. SOMEONES got to watch them. But it's not like THEY want to volunteer their eternity. They have Obsessions to follow. And there are A LOT of Baby Zone's to watch! More forming every day! The great dance of Life And Death etc etc, Yada yada!
Who's being punished? Make them do it! *Clockworks in long term plan*
But! Not the point here! Though fascinating to consider! The POINT? GW->Baby. His Library? Larger then then any Earth libraries, yes. But! Still SMALL. A BABY'S collection of books! Still growing. And for all his bragging and posturing? FAR from the Zone's BEST Library.
It likely doesn't even get to make the LONG FORM list.
Which Danny? Who is STILL banned? Quickly figures out. Because? Amity Library is... DECENT. It's working with the funding It's gotten dispite the damage ghost fights have done. Danny loves that library. He does. But... he also? Kinda has run out of things to READ.
And like HELL is he gonna BEG to enter GHOST WRITER'S Lair. Mister "Love Christmas or I'll torture you with it" can SUCK [REDACTED] and shove it up his [REDACTED BUT WITH VIOLENCE THIS TIME]. So? He asks, vaguely of course, Mr. Ho the librarian what he should do.
The man practically froths at the mouth at the thought that there is some BASTARD denying children books over PETTY PERSONAL BULLSHIT. Wants to meet this guy out back. "Talk books". Mr. Ho is like a bazillion years old and a tiny grandpa, he's amazing and Danny STILL kinda wants to be him when he grows up.
But since Danny won't let him deck Ghost Writer. He shows him how too look up other libraries in the area. Which... sparks An Idea(tm). He thanks his favorite librarian and races home. Makes a Bee Line for the Far Frozen.
Can he LOOK at the Infinity Map, Frostbite? He knows taking it is only for Important Events, but... why, you ask? Well...*explains*
Which is how he ends up, with a pen and paper, watching Trained Yeti Map Makers(tm) quickly sprawling out Map after Map, as Frostbite (who is apparently the only one AUTHORIZED to do this, who knew?) formally asks the Map in? Weirdly specific and oddly phrased ways, for the best libraries? Huh?
Ooooh! Frostbite is authorized because he's the only one TRAINED in the exact workings of the Map. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense. When Danny was using it, it dragged him at like Mach bajillion all over the place and he had to keep rephrasing things.
So? He can go now, right? Since he has the directions?
What do you mean "not quite"?
Danny finds out he needs an "Adult Escort". Because he is Baby. And much like children can not fly to Peru alone from halfway across the globe, so too, they can not LEAVE the baby zones to travel through Adult Territories where they could get Ended by accident, WITHOUT Adult supervision. Safety first!
D:< He just wants BOOKS!
Fine! Clockwork is old as BALLS! Older probably! He's LITERALLY TIME! How's THAT for OLD, huh?! Can he GO NOW!? He just wants to check out their ghostly sci-fi section! He's curious AF! He bets they have ALIEN Sci-fi! Come oooooooon!
Clockwork, of course, let's himself be dragged along. Because this is hilarious. AND going to terrify so, SO many assholes. Which is Funny :)
Danny gets his library card to *Unpronouncable without several neck bones humans do not have*, which is the size of Jupiter's BIGGER BROTHER. It isn't even the "Best" library. Just the closest. Danny has a manic... everything, the Fenton blood is strong with this one. So Many Booooooooks~!
And yeah, school books or whatever, probably a great learning resource.
BUT THE SCI-FI AND COMICS SECTION! It goes on for MILES! LITERAL MILES! *incoherent noises of joy*
Needless to say, the Librarians think he's ADORABLE. Such an eager reader! And so SMALL! A BABY! Look at his lil hands~! Be careful with the books, okay sweetie? Oh heck yeah! He WILL be!
And obviously? He gaurds those books with his LIFE. That's his Premium VIP Celebrity Gucci Bespoke Comics of The Multiverse Access! You'll have to pry it from his multi-dead, still smoking, Ended 5Ever hands!
The problem with THIS is?
Even with careful book covers? Those are CLEARLY glowing books. Like... day glow. Unnaturally glowing. The OTHER problem, is UNLIKE that baby GW? Adults can make their books multilingual. OMNILINGUAL. Is this book in French? Or Ainu? Yes. If it's YOUR language, then that's what you're reading in. Is it a bit clunky at times? With things that don't translate well, having to be explained in side notes? Yes. But better then not being able to read them at all!
And of course, comfort and repetition breed mistakes. You get too used to doing something. Forget you're supposed to be HIDING it. Maybe you go to college. Maybe the world moves on. You bring down a government agency with your friends. Become an infant king, much to the unspeakable alarm of the adults who SHOULD have been watching and protecting you. Maybe you have WORDS with them. Who's to say.
You're tired. It's been a long month.
You just want your coffee and a snacky lil treat. Something yummy for the you. Surely you've earned it, right? You've been good. So you take your sweet new alien sci-fi epic, your scrunkly feral Racoon lookin self, and you crawl like the half dying man you are. Towards the sweet relief of sugar and caffeine. Pride? You don't know her. Gib the coffee or you bite.
Unfortunately! There is some shitty "the Youth Today blah blah blah, let try and catch them of gaurd with loaded questions to prove my point and make a whole generation look dumb" reporter on campus. You see them out of the corner of your eye. They clearly think you are the weak link.
They are making their way towards you, mic raised.
Ah. Tragic, they have chosen death.
Before they can reach you, you raise your voice and not so much throw them under a bus, as drive the bus over THEM. Because THIS Coffee shop is the Punk hangout spot. And you've made casual friendly acquaintances with the six foot something, Sam clone from Scotland, whose life goal seems to be "Fight God".
And THESE fine folk DEFINITELY want an interview :) Have Fun, Thorn!
Needless to say, the clips go viral. With Danny sitting in the background, coffee and muffin achieved. Minding his business. Reading his glowing book. Which everyone ignores, on campus. Because EVERYONE knows Danny can make things glow! It's his weird minor power. Some lab accident in his teen years. NBD
But like... no body ELSE "knows" that. So it attracts attention.
Which would be FINE.... if he was reading an EARTH book.
But he's NOT.
And someone recognizes it.
Maybe it's Martian. Kryptonian. Could be Asgardian. Depends on the crossover you want! Because it could be ANY crossover! Lost books. Not just the Great Classics(tm) that people like to save. But the silly ones. The small ones. The equivalent of dime store novels and cheap drug store comics. Children's books. Banned books. The things Powerful People tried to erase from history itself. The things TIME tried to erase, with the fall of nations and the coming of war.
The destruction of worlds.
All of it there.
Imagine it. Standing on a planet, far from the world that was once your home, KNOWING in your heart that everything is gone. Everyone. That NOTHING but what you carry with you remains. And looking up one day to see, in the background of some average and silly video? Not "War and Peace" or "Great Expectations" or some other likely exported peice... but? Some youth reading that overly dramatic trashy sci-fi book that your cousins wouldn't stop raving about. The ones all the adults were SICK of hearing about.
It would NEVER have passed the bar for export.
It was silly and embarrassing but culturally significant.
It's... it's right there.
How?
Wouldn't the desperation that fills you be suffocating? Are there others? Is that an original? How is it here? How can he READ it? Who taught him? Who IS he? Is he one of us? Where? How? HOW?! Please. PLEASE!
And Danny? Would have no idea! :)c it's great~
@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe
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Hi I want a platonic Catnap x fem!reader here. Simply put, it's up to the hour of joy, and the like, reader is Catnap's caretaker, she takes care of him, and makes sure that everything is normal with him, the reader is antisocial, cold, and a very big workaholic who can go without sleep for a very long time, for this reason she was made Catnap's caretaker, she is only friends with Catnap, Dogday, and his caretaker (she). So, the bosses decided to hold an event where smiling critters and their caretakers would spend time together, let's say, strengthening the team, so, as we already know, reader is antisocial, just like Catnap, so they, like true introverts, avoid such things at all costs, but this is useless, since they are found by Dogday and his caretaker, they are both brought (dragged) to the event site, so our antisocial and introverted couple is there, they are all there undergoing tests, trust tests, team problem solving, and all sorts of other things nonsense (and also, reader and Catnap work well as a team), then everyone comes to what nicknames caretakers and smiling critters call each other, the turn comes to reader and Catnap, reader answers first, she is very embarrassed, because up to this point she never called Catnap by this nickname, only in her mind, finally, she reluctantly and embarrassedly says that she calls him ... "Lave" (short for lavender), she calls him that because she likes lavender and its smell is calming, and puts her to sleep, we skip the minute where reader was teased about this (more precisely, caretaker of Dogday, what a good friend), now it’s Catnap’s turn, although reader doesn’t show it, but she has a reserved interest, because she is also interested in what the nickname is Catnap came up with a name for her, to be honest, she expected Catnap not to respond, or that he didn't come up with a nickname for her, but ... no one expected what he said
***Messiah***
... And that's it, nothing more, everyone fell silent after such a bomb from Catnap, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed to ... creepy, quickly ending the event, everyone went either to work or home, reader does not ask Catnap why he gave her this is a nickname, because she knows that he will not answer, or he answers, but gives a very strange and vague answer, that reader does not understand this, reader experiences many different feelings about this, from bewilderment to flattery, because she did not know, that Catnap sees her like this, so it's nice, although still terribly strange ... The reason why Catnap calls out to reader is something you can come up with yourself
Bonus, I had to come up with an alternative, and now Catnap is calling reader little owl, and sorry that it turned out so long, thanks in advance for writing 💜
"I know you're bored, but we're almost done with these tests. And then we can go back to our peace and quiet."
"..hmm.."
"Yeah..I get it, too." Looking up at the lanky purple feline, you just huffed. Your behind was growing numb from sitting in the cheap plastic chair for hours, but you unfortunately had to stay here.
Your fellow caretakers--plus the Bigger Body Smiling Critters--were all gathered in a circle, chatting away with their assigned "buddy".
Today, the higher-ups of Playcare decided to create this little "friendship event" for all of you to participate in. It was just to evaluate how well you were connecting with the Critters via a series of "tests", with Bubba and his caretaker being the ones to lead you into each activity.
Teamwork was the primary theme......and involved a bunch of crap that felt like a waste of your time.
You've been Catnap's handler since say one, and you two always saw eye-to-eye, constantly working together and ensuring he was in the best possible condition while caring for the children. Neither of you believed you had to be evaluated to prove that.
That being said..you're 99% certain this little "event" was created specifically to torment you.
Neither of you were the most sociable, and you didn't see anything wrong with that. Although in recent months you've gotten some notations for your "recent behavior"--such as not smiling at a child who somehow got into your office during your lunch and Catnap making them cry when he tried escorting them out.
They couldn't exactly write-up toys, so anything "bad" he did ended up being put on your record.
It was stupid.
Working at Playtime Co. wasn't the same as working at Disney, so you weren't going to keep a smile glued to your face and act happy-go-lucky 24/7.
Too bad Catnap didn't have to worry about that.
The only reason you agreed to partake in the event was not only the threat of a pay cut...but mainly because you were friends with Dogday's handler, and you liked him, too, so you did it for them.
What neither you nor Catnap liked, however, was being put in between Kickin and Hoppy--who would yap to each other nonstop, tempting him more and more to use some red smoke.
Or when Crafty accidentally spilled pain on Catnap's canvas during the mini-art contest between the Critters.
Or when Picky became frightened after he said pork was his favorite food (and the first thing he's said since the event began), staring directly at her. You got marked down a point simply for "encouraging" him to use dark humor in a "lighthearted" activity.
Well..damned if you do, damned if you don't.
Whether you get Catnap to speak or not..it gets you in trouble.
"Alright, friends! Our last activity is called the "Nickname Game"." Bubba looked at the clipboard in his hands, before passing it to his handler. "This one's real simple so nobody can win or lose. All you have to do is go around and share what you'd call each other instead of your usual names! For instance, my caretaker's nickname is "Einstein"...and he calls me..."
"Smarty-Pants." The doctor beside him answered dryly.
"Smarty-Pants! See? It's real easy!" He grinned, before his eyes went to you and Catnap. "Alright you two. You're up first!"
'God why--' Your face burned a little as the others stared at you, patiently waiting.
Honest to god..you've never called Catnap anything else aside from his own name. But you didn't wanna get another point marked down for saying nothing..
"I uh..."
""I uhhh"? That doesn't sound like a good nickname!" Kickin laughed, only to be shushed by his caretaker, pouting. "Whaaaat? I'm only kiddin'-"
"Does it count if I never said the nickname out loud?"
"I...suppose it can count." Bubba spoke up, now intrigued as he leaned in closer (as did his fellow Critters). "Go on."
As embarrassed as you felt right now, you eventually found the courage to speak up.
"In my mind, I sometimes call Catnap "Lave"." You looked to the feline, seeing his ears perk up in interest, his gaze landing on yours. "The reason is probably a no-brainer but..it's short for lavender, and I've always loved that scent. It's calm and helps me sleep when I'm off work. Even when I get stressed out here with paperwork and br...restless children, Catnap helps me stay calm. So...I'll make it my mission to call him that more often."
There was a pause..
Before a small chorus of "awhs" rang from the other Critters...and you felt like shrinking back into your seat and disappearing, wishing you kept your mouth shut.
Yet at the same time..it felt nice to actually participate and share something wholesome with your coworkers.
Catnap didn't respond to your words, although you could tell he looked quite flattered by the nickname you've wanted to give him. The corners of his mouth seemed to stretch a little, and it didn't go unnoticed by Dogday.
"Awh shucks, that's a really nice nickname, [y/n]." He chuckled.
"Yeah..and I think that's the most I've ever seen 'em smile." His handler remarked--to which you coughed into your fist on instinct to hide it, your face burning.
"That is." Bubba spoke up, before sending Catnap a pointed look. "It's your turn now. Do you have a nickname for [y/n], Catnap?"
"............"
As expected, he didn't speak, bearing such a distant look to his eyes...and though he was off in another world.
While it didn't seem like it, you were actually eager to discover whether he had a nickname for you. Maybe he, too, thought of one and never verbally shared it with his fellow toys.
Yet the longer he stayed quiet, the more you could see the other Critters fidget and talk amongst themselves. Your coworkers were looking a bit annoyed, too, with Bubba's handler getting ready to give you another point off just for this.
Right as their pen hit their paper, however-
"Messiah."
The room became dead silent.
Suddenly every noise ceased to exist, from Hoppy's thumping foot or Kickin's laughter.
It became a heavy and uncomfortable silence.
You, the Critters, and the other caretakers could only stare at Catnap in bewilderment and confusion. There were no lights in his eyes, which concerned you quite a lot..as that was a sign of great stress.
"That's....an interesting one, Catnap." Bubba finally spoke after what felt like an eternity. "Care to share why?"
".........."
"Bubba..what does "messiah" mean?" Bobby raised her hand, looking completely clueless. "I-I don't think he's willing to elaborate."
"It's a...um...." The elephant sounded rather unsure of himself, which stunned his fellow toys considering he was the "know-it-all" of the group. "..sorry, that's...actually a new word to me-"
"And one you shouldn't be concerned about." His handler interrupted, which was very much unlike them. From the tone of their voice, and from the way they looked at you..they were very much irate and definitely had questions for you once this was over.
You wish you had some reasoning for why Catnap would call you that of all things, but...you simply didn't.
He shouldn't even know a word like that exists.
Before you could say anything to defend him or yourself, they decided to shift their focus back on the rest of the group, sighing heavily.
"Let's finish this activity so we can be done. Dogday, you're up."
............
"....another stupid write up."
"Hm..?"
"I'm in trouble because you nicknamed me "Messiah"." Putting the slip down on your desk, you shook your head and paced around the place, eventually looking to Catnap. He was lazily playing with a yarnball atop a tunnel. "They're accusing me of "feeding inappropriate ideals" to you and think I'm forcing my religion on you...which is completely false!"
"........."
"I don't know where you learned that word, Lave, but it wasn't from me. I know that for sure." You sat down, rubbing your hands over your face and wondering how you're gonna fight these blatant accusations.
Of course, when you began working with the Smiling Critters, there were a few rules put into place to ensure they stayed true to their innocent and childlike cartoon personalities--among them being to never mention anything regarding religion, wars, crimes, or death whatsoever.
Nothing that could make them question their own existence and morals, nor the world beyond the factory.
You kept all of those things outside of your work, so you couldn't even begin to think how Catnap could possibly know what a "messiah" was.
Did he know the implications that held?
Or did he hear it in passing and take a liking to it without knowing its actual definition?
Regardless, you were impressed he was able to come up with a nickname for you at all during the event today. So you were planning to just let it go, knowing you couldn't make him tell you why he called you that.
You two may be close, but he's still ever-reserved..so you doubt he'd even answer you even if you asked-
"The Prototype will save us..but until then, He sends you to guide me. Watch over me in my mission."
You blinked, putting your hands down and turning around in to face the large feline, who now lost interest in the ball and stared at you directly. His claws dug into the polyester fabric of the play tunnel, the lights in his eyes gone once again.
'There he goes, talking about this "prototype" thing again..' You thought.
It was noted that he would frequently mention this unknown entity during past interviews with the scientists, and you were to discourage him from doing so, although you decided to keep quiet and let him speak.
Here he was, actually talking without being prompted to do so..and they wanted you to shut him up?
No way.
"He is God..but what is God without His prophet? His messiah?" He purred, tail hanging off the tunnel as he tilted his head, outstretching a hand to you. "You are the one. The only one.."
"I'm the only one who...?" You cautiously asked, waiting for him to elaborate. "I feel like there's more to that statement."
Yet all you received was silence.
"Lave?"
".....you remind me of owls, too..night owls. So...I may call you "Little Owl" around the others.."
You blinked, his change of tune being most surprising.
"Ah..sure. I do like that nickname, too, thank you." You nodded, watching him go back to playing with the yarnball like nothing happened.
Like he didn't just say something overly religious and cryptic.
"For the record...maybe they would've felt better hearing "Little Owl" at the event today."
He responded with a humming noise, and you knew that meant "I'm done talking today". So you went back to finishing up your paperwork, knowing you'll have to send him to Home Sweet Home soon as it was getting late.
Although you didn't outwardly show it, you weren't sure whether to be concerned or flattered by him equating you to a savior and speaking about you and the Prototype in the same sentence.
No matter how or where he learned that word, it's clear that he thought of you when he first discovered the meaning of it...so he held it dear to him.
You'll let this slide and allow him to call you that in private.
Only because it made him happy.
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hi!! this is my first time ever asking. may I request sleeping with their s/o (/nsx) hcs for Riddle, Idia and Azul? how cuddly they are, if they snore, that thing!! sorry if this is strange, it really is a first for me!! -🐙
the warmth of your arms
Characters: Riddle, Idia, Azul
Synopsis: How are they like when they sleep?
Tags: fluff, cuddling, sleeping habits, bot proofread
Word count: 656
Notes: Thank you for your ask! Don't worry, it's not strange at all, I was squealing in delight imagining the scenarios haha.
Masterlist
Riddle has a very structured and disciplined sleeping routine
insists on going to bed and waking up at a specific hour to get the recommended amount of sleep
has a set of pre-sleep rituals, like reading a book or doing some stretches to help him relax
strict rules about sleeping hygiene!!
no eating or drinking too close to bedtime
makes sure that the room is quiet and dark to promote good sleep
i also feel like he was trained to be so perfect as a child, his mom wouldn't have let him snore or have any bad habits, so definitely is a quiet sleeper
but he’s still very affectionate
loves wrapping his arms around them and pulling you close
spooning or simply holding hands
whispers gentle words of affection
likes placing soft kisses on your forehead, cheek, or lips
makes sure you’re comfortable and have everything you need for a good night's sleep
all in all, very soft and cuddly, but also does not want to disturb you
Riddle let out a contented sigh as he snuggles closer to you. "I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed," he murmurs.
sleep? pshhh who needs sleep? sleep is for the weak
Idia stays up late into the night and likes sleeping during the day to avoid any social interaction
also snores a bit because he’s heavily sleep deprived
have you seen his eyebags???
but things are different with you
once he’s grown comfortable with your touch, you sleeping with him fixes his sleep schedule
he used to be haunted by his nightmares reminding him of his past mistakes
but with you no longer has trouble falling asleep or staying asleep throughout the night, he sleeps more soundly with you
he goes to bed earlier, loves snuggling up next to you and feeling your body next to him, resting his head on your shoulder, or intertwining limbs
spooningg, nuzzles his face in your neck/head
idly traces patterns on your back, and gently touching your face to reassure himself that you’re really there
he actively listens to you whenever you talk, hearing your voice is calming for him
also will appreciate and respect any of your personal boundaries in bed, incredibly mindful of your comfort levels
in conclusion, soft touch-starved boi who loves physical intimacy
Idia wraps his arms around you tightly and whispers, "I'm glad I have you in my life," he smiles, the soft tickle of his breath on your forehead. "You're my Player 2, you know."
as a mermaid, Azul does not require as much sleep as a human does
instead he sees sleeping as a great opportunity to spend quality time with you
before you, his sleep schedule is incredibly
always stays up late working on deals, studying magic, or pursuing his own interests, leading to inconsistent sleep patterns and occasional all-nighters
sleep was a means to recharge to maintain his physical and mental well-being
he used to snore but when he lost weight, he stopped, so now he associates snoring with his old self and is embarrassed by the thought of it
when he’s with you he makes sure he is present and attentive in his relationship
aligns his sleep schedule with yours
enjoys cuddling with you and typically falls asleep holding you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you, vaguely reminiscent of his octopus limbs
sometimes he talks in his sleep, murmuring words of love and adoration
your man is rich, and he gets super soft bedding, plush pillows, and other extravagant sleep accessories to indulge your comfort
soft heart to heart pillow talks or gentle physical touches
he appreciates you a lot, and it shows in his comfort
Azul's gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, his hand entwined with yours. "Oh, my dear angelfish, what did I ever do to deserve you? Thank you for always being there for me," he whispers, before leaning in to kiss you.
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How do you think Idia got his unique magic? Does it say if he was born with it or something, or was it inevitable he would get that specific unique magic? Is it possible to be born with a unique magic in the first place?
Hello hello! Thank you for this question!
Idia says that people born into the Shroud family all have the same unique magic!
A part of Idia's issues is how so much of his life has been decided on his behalf and there is nothing he can do to change his fate no matter what he does, so I think you are right and it was inevitable that one day "Gate to Underworld" would manifest! (Does this mean that every member of the Shroud family is guaranteed to be a mage? Interesting~)
I like your phrasing very much! Does "this unique magic was inevitable" equate to being born with a unique magic?
From what we have seen in the game and the second novel: I think so!
Both game-Leona and novel-Leona comment on how he was born with a unique magic that he never actually wanted.
Novel-Leona goes into more detail with the scorn he received back home due to the misconception that you have to desire and work towards a specific form of unique magic if it is to manifest, which isn't true at all:
"Unique magic that is inherited at birth has nothing to do with the person’s will, but humans wrapped up in their own superstitions are ignorant to common sense. Or maybe they think this is a power that I desired, and fought to obtain." - Leona in Twst the Second Novel
To answer the questions: Idia's unique magic passes down through the Shroud bloodline, so I believe it is safe to say that he was born with Gate to Underworld!
And it does seem possible to be born with a unique magic, as Leona explains, directly. (It is intersting that both characters also have parallel family issues: both of them born into elite families and trapped in roles they want to move beyond, but can't. In addition to their other various similarities)
But this might not mean that baby-Idia was opening and closing the door to the underworld while baby-Leona was turning people to sand!
It is possible that their respective unique magics manifested at whatever age they were when their magic itself made itself known.
As for what age that might have been: I think it has yet to be confirmed how old mages generally are when their magic starts to appear!
Riddle says that he was receiving special training in magic from the age of three, but Riddle is a special case and probably not a good frame of reference for what is "normal" in this universe.
Deuce mentions using magic in middle school, but in Azul's flashback we learn that he was experimenting with magic and spells from an even younger age: while removed from EN, the passage of time between Azul studying spells and sigils and getting control of "It's a Deal" are denoted via the labels "Child Azul" and "Middle School Azul."
The age at which your magic appears might just vary by person! If earlier manifestation = stronger magic, it might actually be possible that Idia and Leona were using magic as children. But one thing seems consistent: whether Riddle or Deuce, it seems that there are generally several years in between a mage coming into their magic and their unique magic manifesting. (But does this also apply to mages who are born with their unique magics, or do they have theirs from the start? Uncertain!)
What might be still vague is how this applies to faeries!
Malleus says that he lives and breathes magic, but according to Lilia Sebek's magic manifested late, with even Silver becoming capable of using magic before Sebek could.
This might mean that faeries, too, have a period of their lives before they become capable of using magic, but it also might just be an effect of Sebek being half human--I am not sure it has been confirmed as of this post!
Lilia mentions Malleus emitting puffs of flame as a baby, but this may be less a "magical infant" situation and more a "that is a dragon" situation.
Malleus himself explains that he once froze nearly the entire castle in which he lived, "back when (he'd) finally started walking on two legs," so it seems that he was wielding magic from very early on!
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Hello lovely Pinky!
I saw requests were open for only 24 hours and was hoping to request a Confident Hyrule scenario of your choosing☺️ it doesn't even have to be an x reader scenario if you want someyhing different. I don't care either way, I just enjoy your writing haha.
A lot of people write him being very meek and insecure, which is still good, but I do love reading about him when he's confident and in control of a situation
Sorry if this is too vague, but I hope it catches your fancy😉
Thank you!❤️
THANK YOU!!!! I FULLY AGREE WITH THIS!
I also think this was my only Hyrule One-Shot request. DX
This boy gets so little love here. Let me give him the spotlight!!
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Content under the cut!
This was fairly common ground for him at this point.
The monsters attack, he says a few spells, swings his sword around a few times, end of story. It hasn't exactly changed much since he's found himself with this group of people.
They're a lot like him. They have the same name as him. They've defeated Ganon like him. (Well Sky had a different guy apparently. That was an interesting conversation that day.) They all use a sword like him and they all care about Hyrule like him.
They're so much cooler than him. Or so he thinks.
He ruffles his hair and sighs, letting some of the others take the lead once again. Hyrule follows them without question... most of the time.
They seem to know what they're doing. Which works for him since he's been paying attention to many other things other than what they're actually doing.
He sees a few of them argue about the direction they're taking and sees some others jest and banter and takes it in stride. Hyrule likes this group. They're easy to get along with. They pull their own weight and it's nice to know that they've got his back if it comes down to it.
They were walking down a beaten down forest path on their way to wherever. He actually wasn't sure. He was too busy looking at the telltale signs of monsters nearby to bother asking about any specifics. Hyrule sees the scratches on the trees and the broken branches and keeps his hand by the hilt of his sword. He keeps his head on a swivel.
The others don't seem as bothered. So Hyrule assumes that they're not bothered by what's just beyond the tree line next to them. They're all experienced fighters. Surely they're aware of their own capabilities. That's why they're not worried.
Hyrule wishes he could have the same kind of confidence.
They're attacked.
It was sudden and quick. Many of the boys next to him are taken off guard and are instantly on the forest floor for one reason or another.
Hyrule unsheathes his sword in a flash, jumping into the fray without missing a beat. It's the same song and dance.
Duck, block, stab, swing, block again-
"THUNDER!" He cries out, eliminating these monster with a spell he's been dying to use since the others have showed up. Hyrule was worried about the implications since many of them wear armor- but he doesn't have the forefront thought to think about that.
This is just muscle memory.
Many of the monsters that survived his spell target him next- identifying him as the most powerful person on the field right now.
Hyrule doesn't care.
He runs ahead, slicing into the beasts with calculated yet reckless swipes. Some stay standing. Many don't.
Hyrule is light on his feet and quick to fire off another spell from his fingertips. The handful of monster remaining run away, having miscalculated their attack with Hyrule at the frontlines. Hyrule left a bit breathless but grinning and proud of himself for acting as fast as he did.
He turns around and looks at the others. Many are still on the ground, staring at him with slack jaws and wide eyes. He goes down the ranks of the boys. Wild gives him a thumbs up. Legend (still on the ground) has his mouth wide open. Wind and Sky look delighted and in awe. Four, Time and Twilight, had their weapons out and from the looks of it, were handling the ones that Hyrule had missed with his magic the first go around. Warrior was in the process of helping Legend to his feet but seems to be also frozen in place.
Hyrule snorts and puts his hand on his hip. The fact that not only has he left them speechless but quite literally frozen as well is admittedly, quite the ego boost. Maybe they were oblivious to the monster signs after all. "Thanks for the help everyone."
He aims a particularly cocky look at the Captain and winks. "I told you, like that."
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