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amyzworldds · 3 months ago

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Title: Fitness Quest

Masterlist

Woozi, a fitness enthusiast, drags his lazy, homebody girlfriend out of bed for an early morning jog, tired of her frequent colds and low energy. Pairing: Woozi x reader Genre: Fluff

The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet, and the world outside was still cloaked in that pre-dawn hush—perfect for sleeping, in yn's opinion. Curled up under a mountain of blankets, she was blissfully lost in dreamland, probably imagining a world where calories didn’t exist and couches came with built-in snack dispensers. Meanwhile, Woozi—her gym-obsessed boyfriend—was already up, lacing his running shoes with the kind of enthusiasm that made yn wonder if he was secretly a robot powered by protein shakes.

Woozi wasn’t just a “go to the gym sometimes” guy. No, he was a gym rat. The kind who had a favorite treadmill and a handshake with the guy at the supplement store. He thrived on early mornings, green smoothies, and the satisfying clank of weights hitting the floor. Yn, on the other hand, thrived on netflix marathons, instant ramen, and the art of doing absolutely nothing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be healthy—she just figured her body was already doing its best by keeping her alive, so why push it?

The problem was, yn’s 'best' came with a side of frequent colds, low energy, and a general vibe of “I’ll get up in five minutes” that stretched into hours. Woozi, bless his heart, adored her anyway. He’d bring her soup when she was sick, tuck her in with extra blankets, and even let her whine about how “unfair” it was that her immune system betrayed her again. But lately, it was getting out of hand. Last week, she’d caught a cold again, and Woozi had spent three days playing nurse while she dramatically declared she was “one sneeze away from the grave.” Enough was enough. He loved her too much to watch her wilt like an unwatered houseplant.

So, today was the day. Operation “Get Yn Moving” was officially in motion. Woozi had planned it like a military strategist—step by step, easing her into exercise so her body wouldn’t go into full rebellion. Step one: a simple morning jog. Nothing crazy, just a light loop around the neighborhood. He’d even checked the weather (chilly but manageable) and laid out her comfiest sportswear the night before—a soft oversized hoodie, stretchy leggings, and sneakers she’d probably only worn twice.

At 5:30 a.m., Woozi crept into their shared bedroom, his gym-honed resolve unshaken by the sight of yn cocooned in the blankets like a human burrito. “Baby,” he whispered, nudging her gently. “Time to get up. We’re going jogging.”

A muffled groan emerged from the blanket pile. “Noooo… tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Or I’ll drink vitamins. Promise. All the vitamins. Just… five more minutes.”

“Yn, you said that last week. And the week before. Come on, it’ll be fun.” Woozi’s tone was patient but firm, like a parent coaxing a toddler out of a tantrum.

She peeked one eye out, glaring at him like he’d suggested they climb Mount Everest barefoot. “Fun? It’s not even light outside! This is torture, Babe. Torture! I’m calling the police.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “You’re not calling anyone. You’re jogging. Let’s go.” Before she could protest further, he yanked the blanket off her in one swift motion, earning a dramatic yelp as the cold air hit her.

“Nooo! I’m fragile! You’re gonna shock my system!” she wailed, flopping back onto the pillow like a stranded fish.

“Your system’s been shocked plenty by all that instant ramen. Up you go.” Ignoring her theatrics, he scooped her out of bed, setting her on her feet. She swayed there, pouting, her hair a bird’s nest of chaos. He handed her a water—“Drink this, it’ll help”—and started tugging the sportswear onto her like she was a grumpy mannequin. She whined the whole time, muttering about how “leggings are oppression” and “sneakers are a conspiracy,” but Woozi was relentless. By the time he tied her shoelaces, she looked halfway decent—if you ignored the scowl.

“Perfect. Let’s move,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door.

“Babe, it’s freezing! I’ll die out there! You’re dating a popsicle!” she protested, dragging her feet as he hauled her outside. The sky was still a dusky gray, the air crisp and biting, and yn immediately hugged herself, shivering exaggeratedly. “This is how horror movies start. Early morning, creepy silence—next thing you know, I’m running from a monster.”

“You’re running with me, not from me,” Woozi teased, starting a light jog down the sidewalk. “Come on, keep up.”

Yn shuffled behind him, her “jog” more of a zombie stumble. “This isn’t keeping up! This is survival!” she huffed, already winded after ten seconds. Woozi, naturally, was in his element—breathing steady, pace smooth, looking like he could jog to the moon and back. Meanwhile, yn’s lungs were staging a full-on protest. “You’re too fast! Slow down! My legs are shorter!”

“They’re not that short,” he called back, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “Just breathe, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Breathe? I’m trying not to die!” She stopped dead in her tracks, hands on her knees, panting like she’d just run a marathon. Woozi didn’t notice at first, too focused on his rhythm, but when the constant stream of whining went silent, he turned around. There she was, a good twenty meters back, sprawled across a bench like a victorian lady who’d fainted from exhaustion. Her arms dangled over the sides, and her eyes were closed—either asleep or pretending to be.

“Yn,” he said, jogging back to her. “Are you serious right now?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a pitiful look. “I’m resting. My body said ‘nope,’ and I respect its decisions.”

“You’ve been jogging for three minutes.”

“Three minutes too long,” she groaned, letting her head loll back. “Look at me. I’m adorable like this. Don’t ruin it with exercise.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. She was adorable, all flushed cheeks and pouty lips, but he wasn’t falling for it. “Nope. Up you go.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet despite her protests. “We’re finishing this jog together.”

“Together? You’re basically usain bolt, and I’m a sloth with asthma!” she whined, but he kept her hand in his, tugging her along at a slower pace this time. She stumbled beside him, grumbling under her breath about “gym tyranny” and “protein shake propaganda,” but she didn’t stop. Not completely, anyway.

Every few minutes, she’d dig her heels in, forcing him to pause so she could “catch her breath”—which mostly meant bending over dramatically and declaring things like, “My lungs are quitting. Tell them I love them.” Woozi just stood there, hands on his hips, smirking at her theatrics.

“You’re doing great,” he said after her third break, squeezing her hand. “See? You’re not dead yet.”

“Yet,” she wheezed, glaring at him. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d have faked a heart attack by now.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss her sweaty forehead. “I love you too. That’s why I’m doing this. I want you around for a long time, whining and all.”

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The jog—or, in yn’s case, the “near-death shuffle”—had finally come to an end. The sun was just beginning to spill its golden rays over the quiet neighborhood, casting long shadows on the pavement. Woozi slowed to a stop near a weathered wooden bench, his breathing steady and calm, while yn looked like she’d just survived an alien invasion. Her legs wobbled as she collapsed onto the bench, sprawling out like a starfish that had washed ashore.

“Sit here for a bit,” Woozi said, his voice gentle but still tinged with that no-nonsense tone he’d used to drag her out of bed. “You need to let your skin soak up the morning sun. It’s good for you—vitamin D and all that.”

Yn groaned, flopping her head back against the bench. “Vitamin D? My body doesn’t even know what that is anymore. It’s too busy screaming at me for this betrayal.” She rubbed her legs dramatically, as if they might fall off from the sheer audacity of exercise.

Woozi stood in front of her, arms crossed, looking every bit the picture of health with his flushed cheeks and steady posture. He didn’t sit—he never did after a jog; something about “cooling down properly”—but he softened when he saw her pitiful state. Yn, sensing his presence, scooted forward and pressed her forehead against his stomach, wrapping her arms around his waist in a half-hug, half-collapse.

“Babeee,” she whined, her voice muffled against his hoodie. “I’m so tired. And sleepy. And my legs hate me. And I hate jogging. And the sun’s too bright now. Can we go back to bed? Please? I’ll be good, I swear.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her cheek, and brought a hand up to stroke her messy hair. His fingers were gentle, untangling the knots she’d accumulated from flailing around during their run. “You did great, you know,” he said, his tone softening into something warm and fond. “I’m proud of you.”

“Proud?” she mumbled, tilting her head up just enough to squint at him. “I stopped, like, ten times. And I’m pretty sure I’m legally a sloth now.”

“Still counts,” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You made it through. That’s more than yesterday.”

She huffed, burying her face back into his stomach. “Yesterday, I was happy and cozy and not dying on a sidewalk. Take me home, Woozi. I need to recover from this trauma.”

He laughed again, letting her cling to him for a moment longer. The morning air was still crisp, but the sunlight was starting to warm things up, casting a soft glow over them. Yn’s breathing was still a little ragged, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she recovered from her “ordeal.” Woozi kept stroking her hair, patient as ever, waiting until she didn’t sound like she’d just run from a bear.

After a few minutes, her dramatic gasps settled into normal breaths, though her pout remained firmly in place. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Okay, I’m alive. Barely. Now what? Don’t say more jogging, or I’m breaking up with you.”

Woozi grinned, crouching down so they were eye level. “No more jogging. Promise.” He paused for effect, watching her pout twitch into something hopeful. “How about this: I’ll carry you home, make your favorite pancakes, and let you sleep as long as you want. And I’ll stay with you all day. Deal?”

Her eyes lit up like he’d just offered her the moon. “All day? Like, no sneaking off to the gym or fiddling with your music stuff?”

“Nope. Just you, me, pancakes, and the couch,” he confirmed, standing up and offering his hands to pull her to her feet.

Yn hesitated, then sighed dramatically as if it were a huge effort to stand. “Fine. You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Gym Rat. But if those pancakes don’t have extra syrup, I’m rioting.”

“Noted,” he said with a smirk, turning around and crouching slightly. “Hop on.”

She blinked at him. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually carrying me?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” He glanced back at her, eyebrow raised. “Unless you want to walk—”

“No, no, no!” she interrupted, scrambling onto his back before he could change his mind. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin on top of his head as he hoisted her up with ease. For a guy who spent half his life lifting weights, she was light as a feather—or at least, he made it look that way.

“Comfy?” he asked, starting the trek back home with her clinging to him like a koala.

“Very,” she mumbled, nuzzling into his hair. “You’re warm. And you smell nice. Way better than jogging.”

He snorted. “Glad I rank higher than exercise.”

“Barely,” she teased, though her voice was already growing drowsy. The steady rhythm of his steps, the warmth of his back, and the exhaustion from their morning adventure were lulling her into a sleepy haze. “Don’t drop me, okay? I’m too cute to fall.”

“I won’t,” he promised, adjusting his grip on her legs. “Just don’t fall asleep up there, or I’ll have to eat all the pancakes myself.”

Her head popped up instantly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” he shot back, grinning as he felt her tighten her hold on him.

The walk home was quiet after that, save for yn’s occasional sleepy mumbles about pancake toppings and how she was “never jogging again.” Woozi just smiled to himself, the weight of her on his back a comforting reminder of why he’d dragged her out in the first place. She might’ve whined the whole way, but she was his—lazy, dramatic, and all. And as long as he had pancakes and patience, he’d keep her around for a long, long time.

When they finally reached their apartment, he set her down gently on the couch, where she promptly sprawled out like a cat claiming its territory. “Pancakes now,” she demanded, though her eyes were already half-closed.

“Coming right up,” he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead before heading to the kitchen. True to his word, he stayed by her side all day—pancakes, cuddles, and a nap-filled afternoon included. And if yn noticed the extra syrup he drizzled on her stack, well, she was too blissed out to complain.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen x oc #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen scenario #seventeen x carat #seventeen fluff #seventeen comfort #woozi #woozi x reader #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #woozi x you #woozi x y/n #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #svt #lee jihoon

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theguarddogofallyourfeverdreams · 5 months ago

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tadashi headcanons

tadashi is here

generally

goody two shoes

never touches alcohol; will get asian flush after the first two shots

has never grown out his hair past the middle of his ears

boxer briefs kinda guy

owns a collection of scarves and gloves because he likes being warm and cozy

plays guitar or some instrument (he has to hes asian asians know)

not only surfs (a surfboard can be seen in his part of the room in some scenes) but also plays tennis and runs

has been approached for modeling gigs because he's well built and tall but he's turned them down, simply not interested in them

not very active on social media but whenever he remembers he has an account he just posts whatever he found interesting for the day like it could be mochi, a bowl of ramen, or littered packaging on the side of the street and then he would disappear off the face of the platform

sent to karate lessons as a kid so knows a bit of self defense which came clutch in situations spawned by hiro's teenage recklessness

he's the type to hide his injuries from his loved ones but get worried over the smallest cuts for them

sleeps like a fucking rock he needs several alarms and even aunt cass telling hiro to cause a ruckus to wake him tf up

learned how to cook from aunt cass because sometimes she is busy and away and hiro gets hungry

learned japanese conversationally from while his parents were still around, routinely tries to upkeep and improve his language ability through japanese books, movies and media

tries to teach hiro and get him to do the same but with hiro's young age and boredom from school he really doesn't think about anything other than his own interests robotics projects and botfighting

listens to pop and calm instrumental music like bossa nova

lowkey a swiftie

heavily dependent on caffeine; like near finals and midterms he can't function without coffee

until at some point he tried out matcha and was completely blown at how the matcha latte didn't give him jitters and caffeine spikes

so a matcha guy but will drink coffee if it's the only thing around

he's not lactose intolerant but hiro is and he makes fun of him for it

has really bad allergies though

keeps an extra futon in the storage of his lab because there have been way too many nights where he just passed out on the floor of his lab too exhausted to go home

i could see him in a VW beetle

or just any car that would run

appreciates any weather for what little delights they hold but interestingly i'd say he's a cloudy, chilly, crisp cold air that makes your breath look like steam, on-the-verge-of-raining day guy because he gets to bust out his cardigan and blazers and make himself a warm little drink

smells like fresh laundry, coffee and delightful little pastries -- like stepping into a warm bakery on a chilly day-- because the brothers have to help Cass open

on days he's busy with baymax and other robotics projects he comes out of his lab smelling more like metal, lubricant, oil, soldering-- all that stuff that comes with mechanical tinkering and is conscious of it; if he has a class after he will go home and shower and make himself a matcha latte and he smells like a bakery all over again

crazy well-regarded not just in his own department but in school overall

like not only was he able to make a portable huggable robot capable of 10,000 medical procedures with a built in defibrillator which is actually insane legend crazy work on its own

but he's insanely nice and kind to anyone he passes by on campus and offers help whenever he can

^ many girls and even some guys are head over heels for him they can't fathom that he's a real person and not some prince that came out of a fairytale

he's lowkey a loser when it comes to his brother (and other aspects covered later) though

since hiro and aunt cass are all he has left of his family he's insanely protective of them, especially hiro who is in his teenage rebellious years

like in an argument with hiro when hiro says something mean to him in the heat of the moment like "Why are you like this?! It's none of your business!!" or whatever he gets sad and even beats himself over it lowkey like "Am I a bad brother after all...?"

there have been multiple instances in which he didn't hang with the gang because he wouldn't trust hiro to run off and get into a botfight in some shady ass crevice of the city SCENE: hiro is grounded by tadashi yet again and tadashi insists to escort hiro to and from school Hiro: Why do I have to be dropped off by you? And you're picking me up too?! And why do I have to wear this stupid T-Shirt?!!! [t-shirt says "i got in trouble for not listening to my brother and nearly getting us arrested]

like look me in my tumblr icon and tell me that's never happened bruh

lowkey needs glasses but has contacts, will wear them if in a rush

hes a cool robotic genius prince in shining armor whos also lowkey really lame and dorky 😭😭😭

romantically

since he's a goody-two-shoes so he's low-key romantically inexperienced and easily flustered

^ he's probably a virgin ngl

like he gets bitches "oh tadashi? from the robotics department? yeah he's really nice; he helped me carry some stuff this one time. and suuuper cute. would." / "yeah I would date tadashi if I weren't, you know, a heterosexual guy" ...but he doesn't act on any of the action he gets

part of the reason being that hiro hamada exists and that alone is a responsibility in itself

like he had to sew GPS tracking systems into hiro's clothes if he went on a date his date would get interrupted by hiro's jacket pinging from some sketchy ass dead end alleyway like 4 miles away

and even if he brought someone home he wouldn't be able to do anything peacefully since he shares a room with hiro, the only thing separating the brothers being a thin, timeworn shoji partitioning

would blush if brought into a victoria's secret-- he wouldn't know where to put his eyes so he would be flustered and his eyes darting all over the place

^ if one were to ask if he was okay from all the victoria's secrets being revealed in front of him he would stutter like a stereotypical flustered teenage boy

love isnt limited by gender kinda guy

he's just a chill guy who has so much love to spread all around you know

bigger spoon, loves cuddling

love languages acts of service and quality time

vvvvvvv sweet and considerate

sooo gentlemanly

is a clingy sticky affectionate sappy drunk to his s/o

free pastries and coffee for breakfast from the lucky cat cafe

would cook for his s/o maybe even breakfast in bed

would help wash and blow dry s/o hair

very polite (very demure very mindful LOL) often asks before a lot of things "can I hold your hand?" "can I help you with that?" "can I hug you?"

gives his s/o rides home on days they have to go home at night because lets face it even san fransokyo in 20thirtysomething has sketchy dangerous bums

he is very athletic and has crazy endurance from playing sports all throughout school and having to run, chase after, and rescue hiro out of botfighting "misunderstandings"...

^ crazy endurance... iykwim...

soft top, would be open to reasonable experimentation

rarely gets jealous but if he does, bottles it up

until he cant anymore and he does some slightly possessive stuff like putting his jacket over his s/o and he will feel a little romantical when he is alone with them iykwim

is sooo cute just trust

some darker stuff maybe(?) tw/ trauma, death, unresolved issues or whatever idk

as hard as he is on hiro and his loved ones he's hardest on himself

he was old enough to remember and feel his parents death so it was harder on him than it was for hiro

part of the reason why he wants so desperately to help everyone is because he wishes he could have done something to save his parents

it's not explicitly stated but i get the feeling their parents died instantly from a terrible accident that unfortunately first responders weren't able to save (which was probably the inspiration for Baymax, who is portable and capable of 10,000 medical procedures which is crazy work btw)

he lowkey has survivors guilt from it

any nightmares he has of his parents and the accident and he wakes up panicking and teary-eyed he goes to the bathroom to compose himself to not let it affect hiro

lowkey he might have a small issue of basing some of his self-worth off how helpful he is

nevertheless he's a well-adjusted and healthy young man who has gone to therapy and overcome his trauma but experiences from his past influence and manifest in his work of trying to help others through robotics

which manifested in many sleepless days and nights and innumerable pots of coffee during baymax's development stages

hates health insurance companies (don't ask how he feels about luigi's mansion)

hes so so gorg i love love love like since forever

#tadashi hamada imagines #bh6 #tadashi hamada #big hero six #baymax #tadashi hamada x reader #disney #tadashi hamada x you

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honey-pages · 7 months ago

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Weaker - Viktor X Reader (Study Date Part 2)

This is part 2 to Study Date - as requested and crossposted to Ao3.

Description -

Viktor takes you to the lab, and then takes you in the lab.

1.8k words

Part 3

F/M. 18+. Smut. Pussy Eating, Sex , Dirty Talk, Semi-Public.

The colours of the books in the library seemed much more vivid as you moved to stand. You could not help but be both intimidated by Viktor and irresistibly drawn to him. The events of what just happened were written in blaring red pen across your thoughts and you wobbled a little as you stood up.

“Careful now, we cannot have you passing out before you even get to the lab” Viktor smiled, steadying you with his hand.

You returned the expression. Even looking at him, knowing what you had just been reduced to, was difficult. You felt as though your face was betraying your memories and that if you were to continue, soon the whole library would be alerted to the complete arousal you were drugged by. Almost as if some imaginary announcer would come over the loudspeaker and announce to everyone the slight noises Viktor’s hand made as he-

“(Y/N)? are you okay? You look a little pale; did I take things too far?” He whispered.

“No!” You reply, a little too quickly and sharply, “No, not at all. You have just made me so weak”.

“Weak in a good way?” He asks.

“Yes, definitely in the good way”, you clarify.

He appears happy with this, collecting his things into a bag, and placing the unnecessary extra books back on the return rack. Viktor is the only person you know who is both bold enough to finger you in the library, but also caring enough to double check with you afterwards that it was okay to finger you in the library. You chuckle to yourself. You would never have guessed he was so- out there. Or maybe you would, you had often fantasised about him doing similar things, but you would never have thought that they would leave the confines of your imagination.

The walk to the lab from the library was not too far. There was a passageway that fed between both, and this was the path Viktor took you down. You chatted as you walked. There was no awkwardness, he was as smooth as ever. Any visual signs of stiffness were hidden by his cool outward kindness and personality.

“I mentioned to you earlier about my project. Ill happily show you what I am working on if you are interested.” He suggested

“I’d love to see; it is some kind of robot if I am correct?” You reply.

“Me and Jayce are putting together some concepts to form a sort of robot - yes. Though there are a few other more… personal things, I’m working on.”

You wondered what this could be as you approached the lab. Passing through the large outer door, the lab was cold but intimate. To the centre was a large diamond like window, open fully, a thick breeze washing through. You had only visited this place in passing, bringing about notes and paperwork and strange little contraptions. It wasn’t a place that was widely accessible as it was usually kept just for Viktor and Jayce. It felt quite alien to be here, like you had walked into some mysterious world in which you were a little out of your depth.

“Water?” Viktor calls to you.

“Oh, yeah! Thank you!” You reply.

He fills you a glass from the water station labelled “DRINKING WATER- NOT COOLING FLUID.”

“We had an incident a while back” Viktor references the sign, “Jayce was a little chilly for a few days.”

You laugh, it was easy to imagine. Viktor props himself against the edge of the main table and hands you the glass, watching as you drink most of the water. You hadn't realised just how thirsty you felt.

“Better?” He suggests.

“Much”

“It’s a good idea to keep your fluids up, considering how much you lost earlier” He grins.

You suddenly cannot drink more water. You flush red, but play it off coolly, sitting on the edge of the table not far from him and placing down the glass.

“It’s also a good idea to keep your fluids up considering how much more you are about to lose.” He adds.

Viktor closes the gap between the two of you, standing in front of you between your knees. Even with you sat down, he stands face to face.

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do what I have done to you today?” He asks, “For months I have watched you. I have sat next to you, hard and aching, waiting for the right time, for when I felt right touching you. I need to taste you.”

Your stomach is in knots once more, the wetness from not too long ago is now feeling extra sensitive as you begin to pulsate. Him confessing his need for you fills you with unexpected courage. You place your hands on his back and pull him in gently, closer. You press your hips against his, the table height aligning them both. You angle your face upwards, and lightly plant a kiss against his lips. He accepts and deepens it, testing the waters with the tip of his tongue, enveloping you and drawing you in until both tongues are dancing and passionate.

His hands are wandering as you feel his weight against you, they find first the edge of you face as he holds it, then your hair, following down to your shoulders, round to your breasts. He applies pressure; hands of a scientist feeling and curiously undoing, testing and taking apart. He gropes at you harder, and you feel him, firm and straining against his clothes.

He begins to undo your shirt, slowly removing it and sliding it off your body, at the feel of you in a bra he breaks the kiss, looking down in admiration at you before him.

“Ah, Miss (Y/N), you’re perfect.”

You catch his eyes as they gaze back up at your face, you hold them there, not removing your stare as you reach forward for his zip.

He grins, a laugh escaping, “Oh no, I have waited too long to touch you to be hindered by my own cock.”

He pulls away rapidly, searching around the room. He finds his chair, pulling at it until the wheels oblige and it drags in between your knees. He sits down, head level with your hips.

“I am adamant Miss (Y/N) that I taste you.”

He places a flat hand against your chest, pushing you down gently until you lay flat on his desk. When in this position, you can see up and into the sky through the other looking large window.

“Viktor, the window is open” You feign complaint.

“You were quiet enough in the library, I am sure you can behave for me again.”

His hands raise your hips, sliding down your clothes and underwear, leaving you almost bare in front of him. Your legs are closed instinctively, and he reclines back in his chair enjoying his view.

“You are hiding from me, (Y/N). Spread your legs for me. I want to see all of you.”

You hesitate out of nervousness but widen them for him. You watch the clouds in anticipation. The chair creeks and the wheels squeak. Viktor slides the flat of his tongue directly up the centre of you, gathering up your earlier wetness and sweeping it over your clit. He wraps both arms around each for your thighs and holds you down tight as he demolishes you.

You cry out loudly at the surprise of it, but he doesn’t stop. In fact, he increases his speed and pressure, curling and flicking his tongue around your clit desperately. You grab onto wood of the table to keep yourself from shaking.

“Oh God, Viktor- “

If he replies, it is buried deep inside of you as he continues to work, his whole face wet.

“I have changed my mind. I don’t want you to behave for me. I want to hear you; I want to know what I do to you. Let Piltover know.”

“Viktor!’

He replaces his tongue with an addition of two of his fingers. He tests you carefully when inserting to ensure you slide open for him and he meets no resistance. He rhythmically pushes his fingers inside of you, working you up and then crashing his palm against your clit. He sometimes breaks rhythm to rub you with his open palm. He utilises the whole of his hand when his tongue is not busy.

“Viktor, I need you. “You cry out.

“I’m sorry, I can hear you over the sounds of my hands.”

Louder this time, you moan, “Viktor please, I want you to fuck me.”

The outside world is somehow quieter, but you are not very aware of your surroundings, a blurring realisation sweeps over you that you do not care. All you need is Viktor. Viktor is restraining himself from releasing his cock and taking you. He is twitching and sensitive and very aware of just how easy it would be to give into his urges and fuck you into the table. He wants to focus on your pleasure. He adds another finger. Your moans are too much for him, you are too much for him. You weaken him and suddenly he is inappropriately touching you in the library, you always make him come undone. He debates whether to give you what you want.

“Viktor, please- “

With his face buried, he undoes his belt, buttons and zip, freeing himself. You are unaware of this as your vision is still fixed on your view of the labs window.

“Please what?” He asks in amusement.

“Please- “

As you say the words, he pre-emptively enters you, catching the words in your throat. You shout out loudly. You may hear mutterings from the street below, but you aren’t sure. Viktor makes an ungodly noise as he enters you, almost falling over the edge himself. His hands are now fixed in fists on either side of your waist as he pounds into you against the table.

He feels the pressure building. He needed this, needed you. He fixates on the way you look underneath him, splayed out on his desk all for him. He watches the open window, the people walking by below. If they were to look up, they would see him. You grip him, the sides of you holding him tightly, pulling him in, contracting against his length.

Viktor is about to make you undone. With each thrust the feeling doubles and you feel tighter than previously as your body works up to its release. You try to warn him but the only sounds escaping you are unintelligible.

A sudden hard thrust sends you over and you cry out. “Viktor, I- Im- “.

Viktor knows. He has felt the clench of you around him and feels you grip him tighter than before, pulsating and spasming. This is enough and he can’t control himself. He pushes deep inside and fills you.

“(Y/N)- “

Words seem to have escaped the both of you. Breathless, panting and messy, you cling to each other.

Viktor stays inside you for a little while after as he begins to soften. Seeing you filled with him, so vulnerable and bare, it rewires an emotional response. Something in him changes and softens more for you than it already was. He holds you for a long time and does not let go.

#viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor smut #viktor lol #viktor league of legends #viktor arcane #request #smut #arcane

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revelboo · 3 months ago

Note

Wondering if we ever got an update, continue of tfa ratchet? 👉👈

If that's okay w u

Sure!

Heads Up, Hearts Down Pt 3

TFA Ratchet x Reader

• Overwhelmed by the noise of the others even though they’ve all been nice enough, you wander over to where Ratchet is sitting bent over a datapad and you slide down to sit against his ped, leaning against his leg. Surprised at how warm he is and it’s welcome, the building itself is missing windows and has a hole in the roof and the night is getting chilly. And thinking about walking home in the dark alone is enough to make your hands start trembling again. To send dread clawing through you.

• Leaning to stare at you against him, he bends and carefully curls his servos around you, giving you the option to hold on or to slip out of his hold and you step up onto one of his servos, pressing yourself against his palm. Letting him lift you up onto his desk. “Ready for me to take you home?” He asks when you linger against his palm, looking up at him then away before shaking your head. “Alright.” You’d eaten with the other humans, but hadn’t said much. Neither had Optimus’s, though. Still shaken from what had happened and he wants to ask about it, if you’d known those humans chasing you down. If that’s normal behavior, but as you lean into his palm, he can’t.

• “You can tell me if I’m in the way.” Feel like you probably are, but his servos curl loosely around you. The gruff mech making you feel safe, protected when he just makes a noise, glancing from you back to his datapad. Apparently not minding having you there. And you’re not the least bit interested in going home to your empty apartment or sleeping. Too afraid you’ll have nightmares about what had almost happened to you, what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.

• “You’re too little to get in the way,” he mutters and you smile up at him and relax into his touch, curling an arm around one of his servos with a little sigh. Keeps an optic on you as he works, watching your eyes slowly slide closed and your head lean into his palm. Trusting him enough to sleep right there and it stirs something protective in him. How long has it been since someone, anyone has needed him? It’s a bitter ache in his spark remembering this feeling and that he’d failed the last time he was needed.

• Half asleep, he shifts his hand against you, scooping you up and cradling you against him as he carries you into a back room. And he’s lying back on a berth, cupping you against his chassis. Apparently going to sleep or whatever alien robots do. Letting you stay. Stretching out on him as a servo slides almost absently down your spine, you can feel a faint thrumming from deep inside him that spills into you, pulls you under. Soothes away the fear.

#transformers x reader #ratchet x reader #tfa ratchet

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bumblesimagines · 6 months ago

Text

The Lions Claws

Request: Yes or No

Summary: When a Lannister visits King's Landing, he ends up finding entertainment in the King's eldest son.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical HOTD warnings, toxic/manipulative behavior, Lannisters being Lannisters, mentions of bruises, cersei would be proud, aegon might feel a lil ooc

~~~

For a capital meant to represent the Crown, King's Landing was incredibly underwhelming. Even the towering Red Keep sitting atop Aegon's Hill proved lacking with its dull red stone and drum towers casting shadows. He'd expected something akin to Highgarden's serene beauty or the formidable and untouchable Storm's End but the Red Keep was dreary at best. The air felt thick and suffocating as if it were eager to be rid of guests with clouds loomed overhead in varying shades of grey, leaving one wondering if there'd be a drizzle or downpour awaiting them the moment they stepped outside.

"A smile wouldn't kill you," Erwin muttered across from him, yet the grimace on his face spoke for his own thoughts. Homesick was one word to describe the heaviness in their chests. "Your mother wouldn't be pleased if she heard you left a sour impression on Her Majesty and the Hand."

"Oh, please." (Y/N) spared his cousin a glance before his eyes returned to peering up at the Red Keep from the window of the carriage. Chilling air flowed inside, opposite of the warm breezes that so often clung to the westerlands he knew well. "All she cares to know is if Tyland's made a fool of himself yet, the poor idiot. She may not say it but I know she fears the dragons will eat him alive."

"I haven't heard of dragons eating lions yet." Erwin's lips quirked up into a grin, showing off his pearly white smile that always made impressionable young ladies swoon.

Once the carriage came to a stop, Erwin's smile disappeared and he straightened up, casting him one last look before the door was opened. He stepped out first, his bronze hair briefly glittering when the sun managed to peek out from behind a drifting cloud as his eyes swiftly swept over the courtiers and servants around. (Y/N) released a soft sigh and followed him out into the chilly air, the bottom of his feet hitting the gravel beneath and moving around the small grains.

The Red Keep was equally as boring up close as it was from afar. In its prime, back when Aegon the Conqueror was still around, it may have been a sight for sore eyes; something that truly struck both awe and fear into the hearts of his enemies. But now, with the tightened hold of the Hightowers, it was bleak. Perhaps its beauty drained with the King's ailing health, forever entwined with the bloodline that'd built it. Perhaps historians and poets were simply sucking up to their rulers.

His eyes naturally glided downward to the pop of color sticking out against the stone. Her Majesty, Queen Alicent Hightower, stood before the grand doors with her children. She was pretty, shockingly youthful, and dressed in a color that clashed with the house she'd married into but was every bit of Hightower. Floor-length, off-the-shoulder, and in a nice shade of green that reminded him of forest leaves during the peak of spring. It allowed for her ivory skin and auburn hair to stick out more. Yet, despite her striking beauty, she was not all he expected. The Hightowers were known for plenty of things, but the woman before him appeared as frail as a withered flower.

"Thirdborn son of Lady and Lord Lannister, Your Majesty, Your Graces." Erwin's words sounded robotic and slightly practiced, the little armor he wore clinking together when he bent at the waist. Poised, proper, and with a hint of authority, Erwin had always been what every knight dreamed of becoming. "(Y/N) Lannister of Casterly Rock."

And so the charade began.

Allowing a smile to grace his features, (Y/N) stepped forward and dipped his head in respect before lifting it to look her in the eye. She stared back at him, the exhaustion in her eyes subtle yet he noticed it immediately. She had many duties now with her husband bedridden. How would she fare, he wondered, when he passed. "Your Majesty, it is an honor to make your acquaintance." He recited the words his mother had ingrained in his head, the memory so clear he could practically see her glowering at him. "I hope my older brother has done House Lannister justice during his time here."

"Ser Tyland has done us a great service as our master of ships." Queen Alicent smiled politely, though the underlying tone in her voice spoke plainly: he was essentially useless without the need for a naval fleet, though most masters of ships were. He imagined Tyland offered bits and pieces of advice now and again during meetings. He'd always been a little wiser than Jason. "I pray the trip here from Casterly Rock wasn't weariful. Your apartments have been arranged already if you wish to rest."

"You are most generous, Your Majesty." It was the bare minimum of a host but good manners and thankful words often went a long way, especially with prideful nobles. However, Queen Alicent hardly seemed keen on compliments, or his presence, for that matter.

"I'm afraid I have pressing matters to attend to but I'm certain the Princes Aegon and Aemond will be pleased to refresh your memory of the castle." Queen Alicent tilted her head toward the three Targaryens lined up beside her, her smile notably falling when she eyed the eldest of the bunch before it returned just as quickly to bid them farewell. Four pairs of violet eyes tracked her movements, one pair with a little more longing than the other.

The eldest, Prince Aegon, stood a little shorter than his lanky brother and he lacked the rigid posture and poise of a young man of his station; his shoulders were lowered and his knees bent slightly, though, from the lazy smirk on his face, it was all purposeful. An attempt to irritate his mother, (Y/N) assumed given the swift exchange between them. Prince Aegon was a curious fellow, (Y/N) decided then and there.

His hair was wavy like his mother's but unkept and messy, matching his disheveled clothes that'd turn any parent red with embarrassment. Pale violet eyes watched him, glinting with hunger, but for violence or affection, (Y/N) hadn't deduced yet. Prince Aegon wanted others to fear him, to feel intimidated by his title, judging by the way his eyes narrowed challengingly. He reminded (Y/N) of the juvenile lions back home, the teenagers torn between proving themselves or running back to their mother's side.

Prince Aemond, on the other hand, was every bit of a royal son. His back remained erect and his shoulders were squared, the height he had over his siblings allowing him to appear as if he were towering over them. His hair was straight and reached past his shoulders, seemingly brushed regularly unlike Prince Aegon's. His singular eye had unease settling in the pit of (Y/N)'s stomach, piercing and scrutinizing as if searching for a flaw or weakness to pounce upon. Gossip and news spread like wildfire across Westeros, so when the King's son lost an eye to his own nephew during a scuffle, the news reached Casterly Rock within a few days. It hardly surprised him Prince Aemond seemed guarded.

Beside Prince Aemond stood Queen Alicent's only daughter and perhaps the most beloved amongst the smallfolk, Princess Helaena. She pointedly stared at the cobbled floor beneath her feet, her lips pressed into a thin line as she shifted her weight from foot to foot with a slight sway. (Y/N) knew her to be of a gentler, almost odd disposition, but her tender-heartedness won over the smallfolk more than her elder sister ever had. She seemed to be a mix of her two brothers with her hair not quite wavy yet not quite straight and her almost slouching stance. A light pink had dusted her round cheeks from the cold and her nose crinkled ever so slightly with each breeze.

Princess Helaena seemed too gentle of a girl to bother and (Y/N) had an inkling Prince Aemond's patience ran thin, which only left the would-be heir as (Y/N)'s form of entertainment for the duration of his stay. His gaze glided over to the prince in question, the corners of his lips threatening to twitch up into a smile. There was nothing more he loved than a lordling (or in this case, a princeling) to toy with. Lannisters were known for playing with their food.

"Your Grace," (Y/N) moved up the steps swiftly, amused at the way Prince Aegon's brows raised and his lips turned downward with a perplexed frown. His hands reached out to smooth his palms over the sleeves of Prince Aegon's coat, his ears picking up the faint sigh from his cousin behind him. Prince Aegon visibly flinched at his touch. "I recall we once played together as children. I hope we can catch up in due time; you must have many stories to tell of your childhood here. You can tell me of the dragons housed in the Dragonpit, and if it interests you, I can tell you of the lions we keep in Casterly Rock."

Prince Aegon blinked, his adams apple bobbing with a harsh swallow. "I-"

"I look forward to it, Your Grace, but I am dreadfully tired." The facade already began to crack. The prince seemed utterly baffled by his sudden attention. His fingers fidgeted at his sides and his posture straightened with uncertainty. "I hope to see you at supper."

With each passing day, it felt as if the Red Keep were trying to suffocate him with boredom. The other courtiers were as predictable as expected, flocking to him with an eagerness to be favored by a Lannister whilst simultaneously hoping to hear anything they could whisper about in the halls. Gossip wasn't new to him; he loved indulging in it back home, often while sprawled out over a couch with his giggling gaggle of friends. But the Red Keep... he simply despised it.

At the very least, the chaos of the Targaryen family kept him from smashing his head into the nearest wall.

Perched on a stone railing overlooking the training yard, (Y/N) watched the lordlings and pages train under the supervision of Ser Criston Cole and other on-looking knights who had little to do. His eyes tracked Prince Aemond's stride, his chin cocked upward and smile challenging, but the only one daring enough to step forward. (Y/N) hadn't cared to figure out whether his confidence was merely a charade to mask the wounds of a child once tormented by his peers or as real as the greed in everyone around them.

He'd concluded the royal children were like bruises, purple and green with hints of yellow, fresh and tender. If he lingered on one for long enough, pressed and prodded with enough force, their pain would be revealed for his eyes to observe. Prince Aemond hid himself well enough through cold stares and calculated words, but the days that'd passed had allowed (Y/N) to view the little boy beneath the young man. Whenever he passed the ladies of the court, he'd adjust his eyepatch and turn his gaze away from them to subtly hide his face from sight. If Prince Aegon bored him, he considered Prince Aemond as his next plaything.

The only one emboldened enough to step out to face the tall prince had been none other than his older brother, though, by the way he staggered and cackled as if everything were one big joke, it could only be assumed he'd had one too many drinks. Prince Aegon's blatant disregard for their training had his brother rolling his eyes, his chest rising and falling with a heavy exhale. His antics were common enough for Ser Criston to stare at him with hardly disguised disappointment, his hands resting on his hips like a father ready to scold his troublesome child.

"If only he were a jester and not a prince." (Y/N) murmured with a quiet sigh. He could bargain for a jester, offer a trade to Her Majesty and the Hand so there'd be no losing side but princes were like the gold in the mines of the westerlands. They had to be shaped and formed, just as any other person, but they had to feel as if everything they did was of their own accord.

A sweet Dornish red swirled around in his mouth, his attention locked on the stumbling prince that by all means should've been heir had it not been for his father's stubbornness. Prince Aegon moved awkwardly in the chest plate and the sword swung clumsily in his hands yet his laughter continued bouncing off the walls. It was childish and carefree, unlike his brother's scowl which deepened by the minute. Prince Aemond spared Ser Criston a glance and then charged at his brother, his movements akin to a fluid dance as swords clashed. Prince Aegon struggled to keep up, too inebriated to focus clearly, thus leading to his loss.

Swiftly, Prince Aemond ended the brief spar by slamming the hilt of his sword into his brother's face, legs leading him backward as Prince Aegon fell onto the gravel with a pained cry. Ser Criston sprang into action, shooting the younger prince a disapproving look over his shoulder before he reached out toward Prince Aegon, his words lost to the wind. The knights closest to them moved to help Prince Aegon onto his feet but once the prince found his footing, he shrugged away their hands and sneered at them. His cheeks, once pink from the many drinks, turned into a deeper shade of red that spread to his ears. Humiliated, though certainly not for the first time.

(Y/N) swung his legs over the railing and slid off it, kicking up hints of dust when he touched the ground. He savored the last few droplets of his wine and set the cup aside with a satisfied sigh. His legs carried him into the hallway and down a set of stairs, his mind still unfamiliar with the castle but he'd memorized the places he wished to visit the most. One being Prince Aegon's bedchambers, which he shared with his sister-wife and down the hall from the shared room of their little children. He lingered by the railings overlooking the inner courtyard until Prince Aegon appeared, his figures disappearing into his bedchambers with a tentative young maester trailing after him.

The guards positioned outside the door allowed him in without so much as a glance, a monotone voice gruffly calling out his name before the doors rattled shut. (Y/N) scanned the bedchambers but found nothing of interest apart from shrouds and other fabrics with embroidered insects and the maid cleaning a wine stain off the floor, so he settled his attention onto the silently fuming prince and the maester attempting to work around his pout.

"What is it?" Prince Aegon questioned, wincing by the end of his sentence which only fueled his anger.

"I saw what happened, Your Grace." (Y/N) spoke gently, crossing the distance without much of a hurry and eyeing the blossoming bruise spreading across his cheek. The hit had cracked open the corner of his lip, leaving it raw and speckled with blood the maester attempted to clean. (Y/N) allowed his hand to brush over Prince Aegon's shoulder in a comforting manner, his other hand dismissing the maester with a flick of his wrist. "I wished to see if you were alright."

"Obviously I'm not." Aegon spat, bristling like a cub and pouring himself a cup of wine to swallow down with a cringe. His cut and cheek no doubt ached from his actions, and (Y/N) withheld the urge to snort. Foolish and impulsive, acting on his emotions without thinking twice about the outcomes. A funny little princeling.

"Bring us some sweets." (Y/N) angled his head toward the maid, her scrubbing absentminded enough to tell him she'd been hoping to eavesdrop on the conversation between two noblemen. She raised her head at him, a red curl slipping free from her loosely thrown-together bun and tapping lightly against her cheek. She stared at him for a minute too long, likely irked by a stranger giving her orders, but she stood up regardless with the stained rag in hand. "Thank you, darling." She paused, her irritation soothing over and her head dipped bashfully.

(Y/N) settled down on the chair beside the prince and picked up the napkin the maester had been using, folding it over his index finger and dabbing lightly at Prince Aegon's lip. His brows, a darker shade than his snowy locks, furrowed again and his lips twitched, threatening to pull into a frown that'd certainly sting.

"Are all westermen as strange as you?"

"Strange is one word for it, I suppose. Most people use 'kind' or 'empathetic', Your Grace." (Y/N) leaned back into the cushion of his seat, withdrawing his hand and setting the napkin aside. His violet hues flickered elsewhere with a hint of guilt and annoyance at his words, his fingers releasing the cup to rest over his thighs in fists.

"Aegon," He said quietly, uncertainty lacing his words. "Call me Aegon."

"Aegon," (Y/N) echoed with a coo, studying the young man before him with hawk eyes. He searched his body, his facial features, for movements and emotions, for any fidgeting or ticks that'd reveal things his voice refused to. "It must be hard having the name of an ancestor as great as Aegon the Conquerer. You must feel pressured."

Aegon scoffed, and just like that, he revealed his pain. It'd been clear for (Y/N) to see since the first day he arrived, but the assumption slowly developed over the passing days; Queen Alicent's weariness at the mere mention of him, the heavy exhales from the Hand, the distaste that crossed the features of those who knew him well when he passed them in the halls. He'd likely been under some pressure as a boy, but he'd fucked up enough times to be properly labeled a disappointment, a bother. He knew it, too. He carried it on his shoulders, masking it by attempting to appear unbothered and lazy.

(Y/N) made no comment on it. Instead, he offered him a smile and caught the footsteps approaching the door. "You're a pretty prince, Aegon. Has anyone ever told you that?" The answer came in the form of two widened eyes staring at him as if he'd grown two heads. It was true, if one squinted past the excessive drinking and snarky words. He had his mother's beauty and the mystique of Targaryens.

The maid shuffled inside with a tray and approached the small round table they sat at, giving them the faintest of smiles as she gingerly set the tray down and began placing plates of sweets on the table. She'd even brought two teacups and a kettle, the faint smell of chamomile tea filling the air when she poured it into the two cups. "That'll be all." (Y/N) said, ensuring his fingers grazed against the back of her hand when she set the teacup in front of him. Her freckled cheeks flushed and she gathered the now empty tray into her hands, sneaking glances over her shoulder as she left.

"I hope you ate before you indulged." (Y/N) ignored the small silver fork resting beside a slice of cake and broke off a piece with his pinched fingers, sticky and clinging to his fingertips. He debated his next movements, considering the possible outcomes and reactions before his unquenchable curiosity won.

Smiling once more, (Y/N) stuck his arm out toward Aegon and held the piece of cake up to his lips. Aegon blinked, eyes flickering wildly between him and his fingers, his brows slowly furrowing. Aegon, too, debated his next movements, his hands unfurling to press his palms into his thighs and adams apple bobbing with a swallow.

When (Y/N) had been a boy, he inquired one of the lion-keepers about how they went about taming beasts. The wrinkled old man had chuckled at his questions, his hand lowering to affectionately pat the top of his head. He'd told him, plainly, that certain beasts could never be tamed, beasts like lions or dragons. But, he'd added with a grin, beasts like humans certainly could. At his young age, (Y/N) found his words to be a riddle he couldn't be bothered to decipher, and so he'd forgotten the question in favor of watching the caged felines.

He learned with age that his words rang true.

To tame any beast, two-legged or not, you had to have a certain amount of patience and keen eyes. A level of trust had to be built, whether through food, water, shelter, or gentle words, that would ease them into being comfortable around your presence. You had to push, and really push, against the boundaries of the beast, threatening to cross the unspoken line until they reacted, favorably or not. Beasts were complicated creatures but the same across all species. And so the princeling before him made up his mind about the crossed boundary.

Tentatively, Aegon closed the space and opened his mouth, his eyes flickering with something familiar, a teasing hunger. His lips closed around his finger, that challenging spark returning and mixing feverishly with the hunger. The tip of his tongue slid along (Y/N)'s finger, collecting crumbs and sticky residue. Honey, he assumed, tugging his finger back with a pop that had the corners of Aegon's mouth lifting. He winced again and unconsciously licked the cut.

"What will your mother say of what happened?" He asked, knowing it'd sour Aegon's mood immediately to bring up the subject of Queen Alicent, but he kept him from shutting down by entertaining him. The same saliva-coated finger broke off another piece of the sweet treat, this time rising to his own mouth. He mimicked Aegon's previous actions, watched the delight and intrigue that briefly sparked across his face. Predictable but still entertaining.

"Nothing," He answered, eyes locked on (Y/N)'s lips and ears twitching with the pop that followed. Aegon slumped back into the chair and dragged his fingers over the bruise, his brows twitching involuntarily when he pressed on it. His shoulders drooped with a heavy, ticked-off sigh, and he reached for one of the tea cups. He brought it to his lips and then hesitated, inhaling the steam and deciding against drinking it.

A hum rumbled in the back of his throat, a tickle in the back of his head eager to test the young man across from him. "Well, I should leave you to rest." He said, curling his hand around a napkin to dry his finger before he stood up.

"Wait!" Aegon blurted out, his chair scraping against the stone floor when he shot up from it, the force nearly making him barrel right into (Y/N)'s chest. Amusement curled around him but he held back the grin to tilt his head at him curiously. Those deprived of attention often sought it out in any way possible, so (Y/N) hardly found himself surprised when Aegon's hand curled around his wrist firmly. "You- You wished to know about the Dragonpit, right?" His tone reeked of desperation.

"That can wait, Your Grace. You've had a rough evening." (Y/N) spoke soothingly, fingertips brushing along Aegon's jaw. They crept upward toward his uninjured cheek, digging into his porcelain skin. He wondered how hard Aegon would break if he pressed hard enough, if he formed cracks or let him shatter. He watched the pale skin redden under his touch, a color that faded slowly.

"I-"

"It's alright, Aegon." (Y/N) assured him, soaking up the hopelessness in his eyes. He leaned forward and ghosted his lips along the bridge of his nose before planting a kiss on the skin between his eyebrows. Aegon practically melted beneath his touch. Such easy prey. "We have plenty of time to catch up."

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yammpi3 · 10 months ago

Text

𝑰 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏, 𝒎𝒆? 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚? // WC: 1.4k

— feat. disassembly drone N x worker drone reader

synopsis. N is out on patrol when he catches you inside a class room finishing up some homework, once you’re done he walks you home and stays for awhile.

— content warnings. its just fluff, hand holding and a cheek kiss ;3

— authors note. I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE FOR ROBOTS, tried my best guys I know some things lore wise but ehh….i had to add random things for it to fit all together ANYWHO love this little guy he’s so adorbs (this is not proof read btw…)

N trudged through the dimly lit hallways of the school facility, his joints creaking slightly after a long and tedious patrol cycle. All he wanted now was to shut down for recharge, but duty compelled him to remain vigilant. He peeked into each classroom as he passed, scanning for any signs of unusual activity or potential threats.

Just as he was about to move on, a faint sound caught his attention from the next room up ahead. Cautiously, N approached the doorway and peeped inside. There, across the room, was you—seated at your desk with a look of deep concentration etched across your screen. Your optical units were focused intently on your laptop, typing away to what seems like an essay.

N found himself transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away from you. The way your brow seemed to furrow ever so slightly, the subtle shifts in your posture as you worked—it all captivated him. He couldn't help but just admire you.

Time seemed to slow as N stood there, covertly observing. All he knew was that he didn't want this moment to end—to tear himself away from the sight before him.

After a few more minutes, you sat back with a satisfied nod and began powering down your computer. N's core fluttered nervously—now was his chance. "Hey bud, you headed home soon?"

His voice startled you, and your gaze met his with a smile. "Just wrapping things up here." You closed your laptop and set it inside your backpack while N fidgeted.

Why was it so hard to find the right words around you? Taking a steadying vent of air, N plowed ahead. "I was thinking, uh, since we both go the same way and all...wanna walk together?" His speech stumbled as flustered static crept in. "For! Uhm, for safety purposes of course."

"You trying to ditch patrol again, N?" His display flashed a brighter yellow in embarrassment. Of course you'd seen right through his feeble excuse. But to N's relief, your tone was teasing rather than accusing.

"No, no, honest!" he rushed to clarify. "I just...want to make sure you get home safe, you know? You never know what's lurking around." N chuckled awkwardly, feeling his face heat further. "But no pressure! I'll leave you be."

He started to scurry off, but you called after him. "Wait up, doofus; I was just messing with you. Sure, you can tag along."

N almost tripped over in excitement as he turned back to you. "You serious? I mean, of course you're serious; why wouldn't you be? Just didn't expect-" He cut himself off, seeing your amused expression. "Right, shutting up now. You, uh, are you ready to head out?"

You gave a final check that your desk was clear before nodding. "All set."

As you walked out of the school, N rambled on about his day. "Man, patrol was so boring today. At least now I get to hang with you for a bit." He swung his arms energetically as he walked alongside you.

As the two of you exited the school building, a cool breeze blew past. N shivered slightly despite having no organic components. "Brr, sure is chilly tonight. Glad I don't have to stand outside on patrol much longer."

You chuckled at his reaction. "Aww, does the big bad robot 'ave a wittle cold circuit?" N shot you a sideways glance, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Oh hush..”

Laughing, you slung an arm around N's shoulders in a mock hug. "Aw, it's okay, I'll keep you warm!" Much to your amusement, this only caused N to blush further while stammering incoherently. Smirking, you released your hold and continued on ahead.

As your optics adjusted to the darkness, you noticed N nervously scanning the shadows with his bright glow. "Relax bolt-brain; nothing is sneaking up on us tonight. You're the scariest thing around these parts," you teased, nudging him playfully.

N rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, better safe than sorry, right? Patrol's got me on high alert, I guess."

N shuffled closer to your side as you both made your way down the living quarters, wrapping his tail carefully around your leg. Though he claimed it was for protection, you suspected he simply enjoyed being close. Not before long, the row of housing units emerged into view.

"Well, this is me," you said, gesturing to the doorway of your home. N peered at it curiously. "Wanna come in? My folks are working overtime at the door again, so we've got the place to ourselves."

N hesitated, fidgeting anxiously. "I, uh, don't want to intrude or anything.”

"Don't worry so much," you said reassuringly. "Like I said, my parents are working late, so it's just us. And I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want the company."

N still seemed unsure, nervously twisting his hands together. His eyes flickered from you to the doorway and back again. You could tell he wanted to accept the invitation, but something was holding him back.

Sighing softly, you placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Look, I get if it seems weird since we're different models. But to me, you're just N—my friend. You've always got my back, and I want to return the favor. So what do you say? Wanna come in and hang longer?

After a moment, he smiled shyly. "You really see me as a friend? Even though I'm probably the lamest murder drone ever built."

You grinned and punched his arm playfully. "Duh, why else would I hang out with you? Now come on!!”

You led N down the hallway to your room. "Not much, but it's home. Make yourself comfortable."

Kicking off some stray debris, you plopped down on your bed and gave it an encouraging pat. "Park it, toaster." N did so nervously, taking in the cozy atmosphere.

With a flick of your wrist, you played some upbeat nightcore music; it played at a comfortable volume.

N sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, listening to the upbeat music pulsing through the room. "Cozy set up you've got here," he said, his gaze flitting around nervously.

"Yeahhh” you replied with a shrug, leaning back on your hands. "So, being a murder drone. Bet that's...umm...murder-y?"

N couldn't help but chuckle at your lame joke. "Ha, yeah, I guess you could say that. It's uh, it's definitely something." He leaned back, debating how much to say.

"Mostly it's just... fixing up the ship, or stopping V from taking out another one of you guys, that sort of thing." His attempt at casual humor fell flat, but you nodded encouragingly.

"It can be tense though," N continued more seriously. "When intruders show up, lives get put at risk. The pressure to terminate threats efficiently, without fail...it's a lot." He took on a faraway, troubled look.

Fizzling out, N sighed softly. "Truth is... I'm not just some cold killer bot, you know? I care about protecting this place and keeping everyone safe. Including..." His gaze met yours shyly. "Including you."

Gently, you reached out to take his hand in yours. N jumped slightly at the contact but didn't pull away. "I know you care, you dork. You wouldn't keep risking your wiring to walk me home otherwise."

"Well, uh, it's just standard procedure! Gotta look out for...others and all that ha—ha…”

You chuckled. "Sure thing. We both know you just looovee my charming personality." Squeezing his hand reassuringly, you leaned in until your faces nearly touched.

"Listen N. Killing isn't all you are; it's what you have to.. Uh do.. And I like who you are—awkward jokes and all."

You gently lifted a hand to cup his cheek. N hitched at the contact, but he didn't pull away, instead leaning into your palm with a soft sigh. Gathering courage, you pressed a kiss to the cold metal.

When you drew back, N's smile could have powered the whole facility.

N's cheek plates flushed a deeper yellow as he leaned into your palm, still processing what just happened.

"I, uh...wow." Was all he could manage at first, a flustered chuckle escaping him. You smiled fondly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Are...are you sure about this?" He looked at you. "I mean, me? Really?"

"N, relax." You said softly, brushing your thumb over his knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

"R-right, sorry. I just... care about you. A lot." His gaze became unusually intense.

Your core swelled at his words. Leaning close once more, you pressed your forehead to his with a murmur. “Stay for tonight?”

Eyes closed, he nuzzled gently into the embrace. "Y-yeah. I can um.." he swallowed before he continued, “do that..yeah”

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oonajaeadira · 6 months ago

Text

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 3

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox Farrah

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island. She’s a little withdrawn and Fink finds out why. It's not what he expected.

A/N: The end of this chapter was partly inspired by @grogusmum. She knows what she did. And if she doesn't, it's illustrated afterward.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my very very fluffy--in all senses of the word--tale. I had to. I just had to.

PART 1, PART 2

“Hey-ey-ey,Greedy!” Fink laughed as he called out to Farrah, her tail and back feet hanging out of the hollow of a dead tree trunk. “Just because I gave you the first turn doesn’t mean you get to eat it all! I want some! My turn! My turn!”

Farrah backed out of the hollow and down the grey stump, honey sticking to her whiskers and snowy ear tips, her front paws covered in the golden goo. “Sorry! I got carried away! I’ve never had anything like it. There’s plenty left…I think…”

Distracted by the remnants on her paws, the white fox began to clean them up, eyes wide, still in awe of the sweetness Fink had introduced her to. It was almost a contest as to what was going to win his attention–the honey hive, or Farrah’s dainty licking–but like any fox, food won out and he was shoulders deep in the tree trunk before his heart had any say in the matter.

Once he was gorged on the stuff, Fink skittered his way out from the hollow and joined Farrah in the grass. It was her turn to wait while he cleaned his own paws, but being familiar with honey, he was far less of a mess than she had been. One, two, licks of his paws and then–

He hadn’t meant to do it, but he was a fox. He did foxy things. And that meant not thinking when it came to food. It wasn’t until Farrah was ducking away from him, putting some distance between them, that he realized what he’d done.

He’d instinctually gone to lick the honey off her ears.

Now she crouched, cowered, alert, her bright eyes–one light, one dark–wide and peering back at him over her brush of a tail, and he could sense the spring that was building in her legs, her heart running as hard as her feet wanted to–

He was suddenly almost as scared as she was. “Sorry! I just– I only– your ears…” The only thing he could think to do was back up. Sit down. Her eyes were still moons in the white sky of her face.

After a couple of months on the island, she was still skittish, still easy to startle. Fink had done everything to make her feel at home, done everything he could do to show her she was under no threat here. She was quick to play with the raccoons and had even fallen asleep on Thorn’s big fat bear belly once or twice on a chilly evening.

But somehow, Fink still spooked her. Maybe he just saw it more since they spent so much time together. Or maybe he was too quick, too rough. Or maybe….

…maybe she didn’t want him to get close in that way.

He could feel his shoulders hunching, his ears drooping, and with them, he sensed a slackening of Farrah’s tension.

“Sorry, Fink, you just… I…” Stepping slowly, she stopped halfway to him and sat, nervous, avoiding his eye. “Guess I’m just a mess. I didn’t realize I still had hummy on my ears.”

Normally he would have laughed. They would have laughed together. “Honey.”

“Heh. Honey.” A little breeze shifted the grass and Farrah made an attempt at a playful sneeze, but it was half-hearted. “You can…clean my ears if you want to…”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, just as half-heartedly. “You wanna go down to the shore and take a swim? I don’t want to be sticky all day. Ants.”

“Sure.”

She led the way now, more confident in her path about the island and he followed, although feeling as if he was dragging his heart behind him.

He remembered how much it hurt when Brightbill flew away for the winter, but it was a good hurt, because they would see each other again.

And he remembered how much it hurt when Roz left the island. That one hurt in a different way because he knew he may never see her again, but he had good memories, and he knew that he had friends and a good life because of what she did for them all.

But this was a hurt he didn’t recognize. It was like the hurt he used to feel when nobody wanted him around, the hurt he learned to ignore, the hurt he used in order to become clever and figure out the very best ways to get exactly what he wanted. Similar, but not the same.

Because that pain was borne out of the rejection of everyone. Like sleeping on a bed of pinecones.

This ache could not be ignored or pushed away.

Being rejected by one special someone in particular, he was learning, was much worse, like sleeping on one particularly spiky pinecone.

With one, big jagged spike.

Pressing right against his heart.

“Look! Your favorite!” Farrah came trotting out of the water to him where he sat on shore, feebly scrubbing his paws in a tidepool, and laid a huge clam at his feet, its bulk almost too big for her smaller jaw. He nodded, but kept scrubbing. A crab scuttled past as a larger wave lazily slapped the rocks behind her, the water dull under a hazy, late spring sky. “Fink?”

The thought just fell out of his mouth. “You really never thought about finding a…a mate?”

Farrah blinked, eyes wide again. This time he could tell it wasn’t with the instinct to flee, but he could hear her heart racing all the same. “I… no. Where I’m from, nobody would take me.”

He wanted to run away, scared of what he was feeling, scared of what he might say, what she might say, what might happen to their friendship, but couldn’t stop himself. “But, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. And things are different here. Everyone’s a little different here and…and…just because you… your…” He couldn’t keep his tail from twitching, his claws making little arpeggios in the sand, his tongue babbling away without him, “I like your fur. It’s not practical but it’s beautiful, it catches the sun. It’s a part of you and I like you so you don’t have to worry about being different or the runt of the litter here. I think it’s a miracle you’ve made it, it means you’ve had to be strong and smart and you’re–”

“My fur?” A tilt of Farrah’s head showed initial confusion. “What’s wrong with my fur?” And then just the hint of her ears leaning back, a paw pushing at the sand as if bracing for a fight, her tail curling around herself again. “Who said I was a runt? I’ll have you know I was the second biggest kit of my litter.”

Now it was Fink’s turn to blink in surprise. “But.. no one said, it’s just… you are on the small side so I just thought you might–”

“Wait. Fink,” she calmed then, a realization breaking over her, her spine straightening, ears perking up. It was one of the rare moments they’d had together where he was able to look her in the eye and she didn’t back down, where suddenly she was allowing him in and he felt suddenly hopeful. Did she just hear what he said? Was she just realizing how he felt? Did she like him too? He swallowed hard, anticipating what she would say next.

It was much different than what he expected.

“Have you…never met a winter fox?”

The words pushed through him, trying to find a place to settle into meaning. “Winter? Fox?”

“Yeah. A snowy fox. Like me.” When he could only stare blankly, she smiled sadly. “Oh, Fink. There are different kinds of foxes where I’m from! I’m a winter fox. We’re all white like this and smaller than the forest foxes. We don’t usually mix with the forest foxes because…” here she looked down at her little white paws making a delicate triangle in the sand, “forrest foxes hunt winter foxes. They’re brutal predators. They..they eat us.”

Whaaaaaat??? “WOWWWUH,” Fink breathed, aghast at this breaking news, happy for her to have escaped that peril. “They sound like huge jerks. You’re better off here without ‘em.”

She lifted her head then and a light huff fell out of her, it was nervous and hesitant, and thinking she was laughing, he was momentarily proud of lightening her mood. Until she said, “Fink…you’re a forest fox.”

There would be few more profound moments in Fink’s life than standing on a shifting shore, learning that he had yet another fate in the world, an alternate place where he could have lived a completely different life, one that could be seen by someone other than himself.

He sat in shock and looked at her. She was so small, so vulnerable. He himself was half again her size. She was fast, but he was faster and could easily outrun her and catch her if he wanted to. She would often bring him shellfish to open for her and then watch in something like awe as he crushed it easily in his jaws.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t awe. Perhaps it was horror.

He was starting to understand that his heart could break twice in one lifetime. Maybe twice in one day.

He needed time to stand still for a minute so he could gather his thoughts, fix this somehow, assure her that he wasn’t like the foxes she’d known, make her see, he wasn’t like the forest foxes that she’d known, he would never, if only the waves would stop crashing and the geese would stop honking–

Honking! The geese! The geese were returning! Brightbill!

Fink was up and turning on the spot, watching the incoming flock, but also agitated by the interruption, unable to stop himself. “Farrah, I… can you… can you hold that thought? I’m sorry, I just–” And without waiting for her, he ran.

He couldn’t remember being faster, needing to run faster, faster, his blood rushing in his ears. The flock would land just down the shore near by and he found a spot close enough to the treeline so as not to spook the ones that didn’t know him, but still out on shore enough to be seen. And then he danced.

He couldn’t help himself. Bounding in a circle, paws tap tapping the wet sand, he yelped like a pup in with its tail caught, and sure enough, an orange-tufted bird broke from the group and came straight for him, dive-bombing him out of the sky, goose and fox colliding in a poof of feathers and fur and rolling and laughter as Brightbill made a triumphant return to the island.

“Hey, buddy! You came back!”

The goose laughed. “It’s spring. Where else would I go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You could fly anywhere. I’m sure there are tons of islands better than this one.”

“Yeah, but none of them have a Fink.”

Fink grinned, the familiar fondness for his friend doing some soothing work on his aching heart. “How was the trip?”

“Long. Who’s that?” Brightbill tipped his beak to the treeline, and Fink followed his gaze to the flash of white ducking behind a tree.

“Oh. She’s new. Farrah! Hey!” he called to her and her little face appeared around the trunk. “Brightbill’s home! Come meet the kid!” Trotting toward them, she looked warily side to side at the arriving population on the shore, and he lowered his voice to give the goose advice he couldn’t yet accept himself, “She washed up half-drowned a couple of months ago. Still kinda shy. Don’t take it personally.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Brightbill turned to the crowd and honked, calling to a large, long-necked and ruffle-feathered gander who was chatting up a gaggle of ladies. The gander immediately turned and closed the distance, winging over to their little family group and settling next to them, much more gently than his mass would have led anyone to suppose. “This is my…ah… my nesting partner, Crusher.”

“Fink, yes?” Crusher honked, husky and low. “Charmed.”

“He’s joining us from another flock this year.”

Crusher chuckled and ribbed Brighbill. “Might stay forever at this rate.”

The smaller goose couldn’t help but blush. “You mind if he stays in the hut with me?”

Fink smiled, a rush of happiness for his little fledgling–all grown up–tempered only by the awkwardness every parent feels when they bring their sweetheart to visit. “Absolutely! You can have the best bed in the place.”

“What?” Brightbill flinched. “Your bed? Are you sure you’re Fink?”

Fink shrugged and leveled his shoulders, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a great guy. Fantastically generous. Full of surprises.”

“That last part’s true for sure.” Brightbill turned to Farrah. “I assume you’re responsible for this show-off’s drastic change in behavior?”

“Hey!” Fink protested, but Farrah laughed her wondrous, loud laugh and introductions and welcomes were made. He watched her as she warmed to his adopted family and before long they were trotting back to the hut, many of their friends there to meet them, having heard the flock arriving from the south.

The rest of the day had a general family reunion atmosphere. Thorn bumbled off into the trees and came back with an entire wild raspberry bush he’d yanked out of the ground, heavy with a spring crop. The raccoons brought up snails from the woods and clams from the beach. Pinktail brought in this season’s club of little rascals who all got a fast and low ride on Crusher’s back over the surrounding treetops. Before long, the fireflies were coming out, lighting up the grasses in the clearing around the hut and Thorn had started a warm fire inside.

It was there that Fink was listening intently to Crusher’s tale of home, the shoreline where he grew up. Since meeting Farrah, Fink had become increasingly interested in learning how different and yet the same so many other places were. It was like he learned something new about the world every day.

Like the fact that there were foxes in the world that were even bigger jerks than he was.

Or than he used to be.

He scanned the hut–quieter now as many of the young animals were nodding off and cuddling with their mamas who in turn were engaged in low, pleasant conversation by the light of the fire. At first he thought Farrah might have left, the crowd too much for her, but then he caught the moonlight glow of her fur through the doorway out in the clearing, Brightbill at her side. They were deep in conversation–Brightbill doing most of the talking and Farrah watching him intently–and Fink felt a little contented spark of loving happiness as he watched them bond.

After a while, Brightbill waddled into the hut toward Fink’s precious, beloved, grassy nest, drowsy and sighing. “It’s been a day. Did you really mean it? Can we bed down here?”

Fink sighed, pulling back the sass he was so accustomed to leaning on, just this once. “Yeah, kid. I mean it. You two have had a long journey. Take a load off. I’m just glad you’re home. You want me to shoo everyone out of here so you can sleep?”

“Nah,” the small goose shook his head, his eye wandering across the line of pictures Roz had created of him not so very long ago. “We’re used to sleeping in a crowd. And it’s nice to hear the voice of friends.”

Once Brightbill and Crusher were comfortable–heads tucked under wings, Crusher’s free wing almost completely covering the smaller goose–Fink wandered out into the clearing where Farrah sat under the stars. She was staring up at the moon as she often did on nights like this, most likely thinking about her family and how no matter the distance between them, they still had the same night sky.

“Mind if I sit?”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn to watch his every move, just kept watching the twinkling of the stars. “Not at all. It’s a nice night. Quiet. Calm.”

Mindful of what he now knew of her past, he kept his distance, but still where she could see him and feel safe just out of reach. Fink looked up to the big, silvery moon, round-faced and kind. It reminded him of a certain robot he once knew.

“He’s a great kid, clever and kind,” she said after a long silence. “You really raised him right.”

Fink scoffed and winked at the moon. “It wasn’t really me who raised him.”

“That’s not how he sees it. He thinks Roz was great, but she couldn’t have done it without you. You’re just as important to him that way. He told me so many stories.”

Digging at a spot in the ground, he did his best not to look too interested. “Yeah? Anything…good?”

She laughed then, softer than usual, but still winning the prize for his very favorite sound in the world. Standing, she came closer and Fink kept still, trying not to breathe too fast as she sat as his side, shoulder to shoulder. She was warm. She smelled like raspberries and snails and something else…something intoxicating. “Well, good enough.”

“So he convinced you I’m not going to eat you.”

“Something like that.”

Ah. He’d have to remember to thank the kid later.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Fink. I didn’t know you didn’t know about–”

“Why do you think nobody would have you?”

Farrah blinked up at him. “What?”

“You said where you were from, nobody would want you. I can’t imagine the kind of idiots you must have grown up around.”

She smiled then, a little sadly, turning her gaze to her paws. “My eyes. Nobody wants a mate with mismatched eyes. They assume I’m blind or can’t see as well as them, that because of it I wouldn’t be able to survive or I’d pass it down to their kits who'd have trouble surviving. It’s not true, but I don’t stand a chance against another vixen with matching eyes. That's nature. I just kind of accepted it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Fink gasped. “Your eyes? But they’re amazing! They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re–” and then he faltered as she looked up hopefully at him, those bright eyes–one light and one dark–bewitching and so very distinct. And suddenly, all the fear and snark left him as he felt himself turning to pure, dopey goo. “--they’re…beautiful.”

She snuggled into his shoulder then, finally giving in, her tail coming to rest over his, wrapping herself around him. And he marveled at how fast a broken heart can heal up. As if it had never been hurt at all.

Yeah. He was really gonna have to thank that kid.

“I think I’d like to go curl up in bed,” she said, finally breaking free and turning back toward the hut where the warm orange light spilled over the snoring bulk of their bear friend and the nearby soft pile of sleeping geese. “You coming?”

“Ah, I gave my bed to the kids. I’ll probably just sleep in the grass tonight.”

She smiled, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “No you won’t. Not when there’s plenty of room in mine.”

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep for joy. Not with his kid home again. Not with all of his friends so close by. Not with his nose buried in the fur of Farrah’s shoulder or the curve of her slumbering body curled up around his own. Not with his heart beating as broadly as it was.

But he did. He slept. Soundly. And well.

____

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Fink and Farrah, illustration by @grogusmum

#the wild robot #the wild robot fanfic #fink the fox #wholesome fluff #that awooo inside you #that awoooo inside you #fink x farrah

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