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starbornsinger · 3 years

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Favourite Distraction (Gwyn x Azriel One-shot)

Summary: During a training session, the line between friendship and romance becomes more and more blurred for Gwyn and Azriel. Fluff, some steam. Set in the Nepenthe universe.

Word Count: 2.4K

“The chances of you making it out of this alive are slim.”

Well, the blade at Gwyneth’s neck certainly proved that point. The sharp tip pressed into her skin, threatening to slice her open with the slightest flick of a wrist. “If I apply any pressure, I’d go straight through your neck. If you move, I’ll slice your throat.”

Nowhere to go.

Gwyn’s teal eyes scanned the surrounding area wildly, landing on the sword which had skittered a mere foot away. Even with her fingers splayed painfully, the priestess could only graze the hilt of her weapon with her fingertips. There was no way she could grab hold of it, not without risking death.

She gulped. Pinned to the floor on her stomach, the cold steel of the dagger kept her from fighting back, and Gwyn knew she was running out of options. Bargaining was her last resort.

“I—” “Don’t move,” the male repeated harshly, his knee digging into her spine. “My hand might slip.”

Gwyneth was stuck. She had no escape.

“Damn it,” she swore under her breath, and patted her hand on the solid ground. “Alright, you win.”

Azriel withdrew his blade at her tap-out; he was sitting on her back, practically crushing her lungs with the weight of him. Six months ago, she might have panicked at a male being so close— and being trapped by him as well. But Gwyn had made great strides in her journey to healing, and now, the comfort and trust she had formed with Azriel was unbreakable.

“Not bad,” he mused lowly, flicking dust off his shoulder. “But not good enough.”

“Well, when you’ve got a blade to my jugular, defending myself gets a bit tough,” she choked out, as Azriel lounged on her as though she were a bit of furniture. She rubbed her neck, where a small bead of blood had formed, and wiped it off. It smeared on her freckled skin, but didn’t seem to notice. “Are you going to get off of me, spymaster?”

Azriel shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” he replied dryly,but she could hear the grin in his voice. Gwyn scowled, and rolled onto her side, effectively pushing him off of her.

She laid on her back, staring up at the sky as she panted. “Must you make everything so difficult, Shadowsinger?”

“I doubt your opponent would be any easier on you,” he replied, not missing a beat. It made her want to throttle him. “Well then. Thank the Mother my opponent is only you.” The priestess smirked, and Azriel had the nerve to look mock-offended. “Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” he echoed, with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. Gods, he was handsome, Gwyn thought, sitting up. She drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them. Azriel sheathed Truth-Teller. Gwyn watched silently, chewing on her lip. He stretched his wings momentarily, shaking them out as though it were a sore muscle. He looked so peaceful, Gwyn thought, as the sun shone through his wings. It made the reds and blues dance, and illuminated every vein and curve. The hair that looked raven black most days now looked reddish-brown in the sunset, which cut his features in a most handsome way.

Even sweaty and tired, he still managed to be so damn handsome. Azriel was distracted, thankfully, and so Gwyn could take a moment to take in all his features. She sighed softly. She was falling way, way too hard. But Mother knew she’d die before she admitted it.

Azriel must have assumed she was tired— which in truth, she was— because he glanced in her direction, and announced, “We can stop for today. It’s close to dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry.” He pulled himself to his feet, offering her a hand. The shadowsinger then paused, looking down at his scars with a frown, and began to withdraw. His shadows thickened.

No.

Gwyn’s hand shot out to grab his, gripping it tightly. Azriel blinked, the only indication of his surprise, and hoisted her up alongside him. She dusted herself off, then stood up straight. The two of them stood mere inches from each other, practically chest-to-chest as the Valkyrie looked up at him. “If— if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind another round,” she heard herself saying. Wait, what? The priestess amended quickly, stumbling over her words a bit, “I um, I had a late lunch. With Nesta. So I wouldn’t… I mean, only if you want to. I’m sure you’re tired of training.”

ꕥ

Azriel didn’t want Gwyn to leave. Not really. Nor did his shadows, really. So when she had asked for an overtime lesson, he felt a bit pathetic about how his heart seemed to skip a happy little beat. His shadows were clearly elated; a moment ago, they had been swirling with the blackness of his insecurity, and now? It was like watching an excited puppy pace back and forth. They danced and darted, and it took all of his control to wrangle them away from Gwyn. They shot towards her, curling around her arms and waist in a misty embrace. She let out a laugh, the sound ringing beautifully. Every smile, every giggle: it was all carved into his mind. A brand, a disarming he was glad to accept.

Gwyn’s lips twitched upwards. “Is that a yes, then?”

Azriel scratched the back of his head nervously, looking away from that piercing teal gaze. “I suppose it is,” he replied. The spymaster was a bit surprised at himself, really, surprised to see how relieved he was that she had asked. And Gwyn, it seemed, was relieved as well. She exhaled, letting her shoulders sag a bit, and chuckled. His eyes caught on the bit of exposed skin her white tunic had revealed, admiring the splatter of freckles on her collarbone. Her skin looks so damn soft, he thought, as his shadows once more crept out to caress her skin. They settled on her shoulder, and she tilted her head to rub her cheek against a tendril. She grinned at him, her lips curling back to reveal that bright smile of hers. With this priestess, he swore he had found religion in an entirely new way.

Azriel shook out his hands, then clenched them into fists and got into a fighting stance. He narrowed his eyes, studying her. Where would she strike first? How would she try to trick him? She seemed to be doing the same, because she had a damn smirk on her face that the spymaster couldn’t help but return.

“What?” She laughed, as they circled each other. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because that’s how you’re looking at me!” He replied, with a snicker. Gwyn’s foot pivoted ever so slightly, and he anticipated the punch that was thrown seconds later. Ducking low, Azriel managed to avoid that swift hook of hers, throwing one of his own.

“I am not!” The priestess protested, using her padded forearm to block his hit, then raised her knee and slammed it into him. Azriel let out a loud “oof”, stumbling back a step. He clutched his side, praying she’d take the bait. “Yes, you are,” he said between exaggerated pants. Gwyn did as he’d hoped: she raised her other leg to strike his uninjured side. Faster than lightning, his shadows wrapped around her ankle, suspending it mid-air.

Gwyn’s eyes widened, and she looked at him in disbelief. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. When the Valkyrie was yanked to the ground, she let out a cry of frustration, slamming her fist on the mat. She propped herself up on her elbows, squinting up at him.

“You know, you make it especially difficult for me to like you sometimes, Spymaster,” she scowled, as Azriel crouched down beside her.

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” he drawled. He couldn’t help but tease her, especially considering that he had beaten her in mere seconds. “I thought you wanted another round.”

“I did,” she replied, then suddenly, her leg swept out and smashed into his. He went toppling backwards, losing his balance and falling on his ass. “We’re not done yet.” Gwyn grabbed hold of his forearms, trying to grapple with him. They were a tangle of limbs and fists, tossing battle strategy out the window for an all-out brawl. It was a rare moment for Azriel, one where he decided that, for once, he’d have a bit of fun.

ꕥ

Gwyn was laughing once more, as they rolled around on the mat like warring toddlers. She wasn’t a small woman by any means, standing only a half foot shorter than he, but she was thin and flexible, which meant trying to grab her was like trying to catch a summer breeze. Grappling with each other alone in the ring, Azriel tried his best to pin down the nymph, but that only seemed to encourage her more. Those tricky fingers of hers now began tickling him, and Azriel’s eyes widened.

For the first time in what felt like ages, he giggled.

The Spymaster of the Night Court was giggling. He was chuckling at first, which evolved into a laugh, which then turned into an eruption of giggles and guffaws. He flailed his arms, trying to push her off. Gwyn was absolutely stunned. She’d never heard such a sound from him; Mother, he barely even reached a dozen decibels. But now? Now his shadows swirled about them, rippling from each laugh that escaped those perfect lips of his.

Gwyn was seeing stars, and it wasn’t because of the approaching twilight.

“Stop— No, not there!” He managed to choke out, grinning like an idiot. Tears came to his eyes as she attacked his abdomen, his underarms, his neck.

“No,” Gwyn shouted back, with a devious smile. “You’re a feared Ilyrian warrior who kills great beasts! Can’t you fight off the Tickle Monster?” But Azriel was too overcome to respond, trying to push her off and retaliate by attacking her sides. The priestess clambered on top of the male, sat atop his hips as she straddled them with her thighs. Finally, she managed to pin his arms to the floor, leaning over him as he gasped for air.

Azriel’s wheezed, letting out a chuckle. Gwyn had him pinned by the wrists, and although he could escape if he tried, he didn’t want to. Because he had realized the position they were now in.

And he liked it.

Gwyn seemed to realize too, because her face turned even redder than her hair. She was straddling him, and she could feel every inch of his body, the soft bulge that pressed in between her legs. The bulge that was slowly hardening as it absorbed the heat of her. The priestess swallowed, his hands still pinned above his head. Azriel made no move to escape, looking up at her like— Like he wanted her.

His hazel eyes, usually dark and brooding, were sparkling like the night, focusing all of his raw emotion on her with an intensity she didn’t think she could handle. There was mischief in his gaze; there was affection.

His lips parted slightly, and he inhaled slowly. Was he smelling her? Oh Mother, could he smell her? Gwyn swore silently, realizing that her own scent had changed from its usual flower sweetness to something smoky, and tangy. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to trap the heat she was feeling down there.

He missed nothing, glancing at her hips and then back up at her face. Gwyn bit down on the inside of her lip. A strand of her hair had fallen from behind her ear, and she tucked it back. With one hand now freed, Azriel lifted it. Hesitantly, he set it on her thigh, scanning her eyes for permission. All she did was offer a barely perceptible nod. He slid it up higher, to the curve of her hip. They had gotten closer, their faces inches apart as her hair curtained their faces. The shadows around them had thickened, wrapping around Gwyn’s waist and neck.

He wanted her badly. There was no denying it. The spymaster had felt desire for Elain, but what he felt for Gwyn was magnetic. She made him laugh, made him smile. She would be the destruction of every wall he had painstakingly built, and gods, he welcomed it. Those teal eyes of hers were foggy, darting up and down his body. The priestess was stunning. He loved every state of her: her robes, the dress she had worn to Nesta’s mating ceremony, how she looked after training. Even when she was a sweaty mess, the afterglow of her rosy cheeks made his heart skip.

His hand trailed that path from her hip to her thigh, as they stared at each other in silence. There was a humming in his head, a euphoric feeling he only got from faerie wine. Gwyn bit her lip, an action that set him aflame, then cupped his cheek. Her thumb traced his cheekbone, running over his lips and parting them.

“You’re beautiful,” she said absentmindedly, and Azriel blinked, a bit taken aback. He let out a soft laugh.

“I’m beautiful? I’m a male, Gwyn.”

“And?” She challenged. “Males can be beautiful.” She lifted her chin, letting out a hum. Her fingers brushed over the cleft in his chin. “They all say you are.”

“Who?” He asked, his voice soft, low.

“Anyone in Prythian with a working pair of eyes. You’re quite popular, you know,” she mused, her voice smooth as silk. Azriel’s shadows toyed with the strands of her hair, brushing them gently.

“Am I popular with you?”

Gwyn was quiet for a moment, and he worried he’d overstepped, withdrawing his hand—

“Yes,” she said quietly, placing her palm over his. He froze. “Your shadows are too. Or rather, I am with them.” She glanced around them, to see the cocoon of night that had formed, contrasting the setting sky. Azriel hummed his agreement. Gwyn paused again.

“You're our favourite,” he quipped quietly, and that seemed to make her blush deepen. Gwyn gulped, looking around as though trying to grapple for something to say.

“So, uh, does this mean I win?” the Priestess stuttered. She motioned to their position, snapping Azriel out of his trance. He blinked in surprise, before his face contorted into a devious grin.

“Not a chance.”

He shoved her off him, and she fell backwards laughing, kicking his chest.

And then the fighting started all over again.

#sjm #acotar #acosf spoilers #gwynriel #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #acosf #azriel #shadowsinger #acomaf #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel fanfiction #acotar fluff #acotar fic #gwynriel fic

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todoscript · 4 years

Text

Work of Art

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader genre: smut. word count: 3.6k+ warnings: 18+. shibari. bondage. submissive bakugou. dominant reader. begging. praising. bakugou being a little bit of a brat?

anonymous requested: okay but what abt.. submissive bakugo👉👈 him being all bratty and shuts up when you deny him—

author’s note: ohhh boyyyy... submissive bakugou really got me writing more than 3k’s worth of filth haha, but i hope you enjoy! shoutout to my gals, rosie ( @shoutogepi ) & val ( @shoutodoki ) for indulging with me during our talks about sub bnha boys

“Hmm, I don’t see why you’re so against this,” your voice sounds out, and Bakugou immediately perceives the saccharine dripping upon every word, a lilt of a smile dancing on your colored lips, painted in a vivid rosy red pigment that only enhances your seduction. Despite how sweet you sound, he knows that underneath that layer of sugar lies a venom waiting to intoxicate him—ensnare his reasoning and leave him utterly vulnerable to your mischief. As in this moment, you embody every characteristic akin to a vixen, enveloped in the lacy fabric of your black lingerie.

Bakugou sits before you bound to a chair with an intricate network of cordage twined across his naked skin. The patterns and shapes knotted together contrast stunningly against his expanse of hard muscle—reminiscent of paint on canvas. And you tonight are the artist.

“You look so pretty, like a beautiful piece of art…” you say languidly. Each syllable uttered is drawn out in alluring breaths that somehow makes him feel hazy. He grits his teeth at how much that extra flair in your voice affects him, eyebrows narrowing tightly as he fidgets in his seat. His arms and wrists ache from just a simple wriggle, your meticulous work granting him no chance to get free.

“Ah-ah, you’re not gonna get out of this one,” you tease. Right as he opens his mouth for a snappy retort, the words are swooped from under him when your hands begin to trace his naked skin—starting from his thigh, up to his abs, and then landing to his chest, where you make a point to taunt him by dancing your fingertips there before bending down to meet his eyes. Your ruby red lips curve impishly at what you reduced him to. “You can try as much as you like, but I’ve tied the ropes this way so you can’t get free~ Don’t want you to spoil the fun after all,” you sing. Fully aware of your boyfriend’s strength built upon many years of arduous hero training alongside that powerful quirk of his, you made sure Pro Hero Ground Zero would not turn the tables on you in his haste for pleasure tonight.

Thus, his usual brash exterior dwindles in the face of your ministrations when you play with the rope a bit more. When he notices your eyes descend to his angry red cock that stands firm amid the knotwork surrounding it, his impatience builds. Bakugou wets his lips, finally ushering some words out from his dry throat.

“Fuck… Stop stalling already…” he tells you, voice borderline on a plea, but his remaining pride pushes the inflection back in hopes it resembles even a lick of his regular gruff tone. Your hums in reply don’t entail much, other than the fact you’re still prolonging his needs.

“Stalling? Who said I was stalling?” You feign ignorance before deciding to take a seat on him, straddling his thighs. “I just want to admire my work of art a bit more… I did a pretty good job—” your hand suddenly comes to his cock, fingers coaxing its hardness that makes his breath hitch, “don’t you think?”

For once, Bakugou’s scrounging for words at the sudden contact. He’s not used to being so speechless when it comes to passion in the bedroom with you. If anything—moaning and yelling aside—he regards himself the more vocal one between the two of you, his dirty talk and crude language a routine he always enacted to get you hot, bothered, and oh so ready for him. However, the shibari ropes braided across his body press a button that spurs him to be so… submissive.

God, him and “submissive” do not belong in the same sentence.

He thinks this, and yet the aesthetic arrangement on his skin emphasizes his sensuality and vulnerability, and it somehow makes arousal wholly envelop his cock.

“Well?” You bring him back to the situation at hand by thumbing over the slit of his length, slick with his pre-cum. The touch causes a groan to slip past his lips. “I asked you a question, Katsuki.” You stroke his length up and down for every word, stopping right at the end and leaving his cock weeping for more of your touch, strained by the rope.

“Ah, f-fuck—” He internally curses himself for the stutter. Glancing at you, he heeds the smirk that still hangs proudly on your red lips.

Boy, does he itch to wipe it off your face with bruising kisses and have wanton moans singing from them when he pounds you into the bed. To his dismay, however, that itch remains unreachable thanks to your painstakingly elaborate composition. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this shibari shit you performed on him was executed with great attention to detail for him to be left so aroused and unable to break free in this damn chair. But would he ever say this to you out loud? Hell no. So he settles for defiance instead.

Bakugou looks you straight in the eye with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Hah, is this supposed to impress me? Seems like a bunch of amateur work to me, babe,” he scoffs boldly, earning a raised brow from you at his attitude despite the position he’s in. Perhaps he needs a reminder that no matter how much he squirms, he isn’t getting a sliver of authority tonight.

“Is that so?” You jab, finger looping around the cordage tied across his collarbones to pull him forward in his chair. His face is so close to yours; he can feel your breath on his lips and smell the enticing fragrance of your perfume. It’s an off-beat mix of rose and jasmine that gets his blood pumping from just a whiff. “I don’t think you truly understand the position you’re in right now, Suki,” you muse sensually, lips tugging back into a smirk that has him second-guessing his actions, “I just need to remind you then.”

At that, your hand immediately falls to his cock, stout and weepy with pre-cum, capturing Bakugou’s attention. He groans wantonly while you stroke it. Dropping to your knees, you watch as your ministrations evoke bliss into his cock from below. You can tell without even glancing at him that he’s biting his tongue to suppress his obscene noises. However, the increasing volume in his voice betrays him.

“Agh, fucking goddd—” he drawls beneath his breath when you decide to pick up the pace with your hand, applying the right amount of pressure that had his walls slowly cracking in front of you. The strain on his body from the ropes heightens his lust. Bakugou tugs on the restraints in the fit of pleasure building inside him.

“Hm well look at that. You were so bold before, but now look at you—” Your other hand goes to fondle his balls, the extra sensation making him buck in his seat, “a hard, aching mess at my touch, isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, if you—fuck—think I’m going to give in— Haaahhh...” His words are a jumbled mess. Bakugou leans against his seat, tossing his head back while involuntarily rocking his hips into your hand.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over your moaning and groaning,” you mock, watching his brows knit together at the lust consuming his being. His panting comes out ragged while he gasps for air, thighs flexing at the fire coursing through his body that teeters on a tightrope. However, before he can reach his high, the sensations are ripped away when you quickly remove your digits from him, recognizing his imminent release.

Bakugou shoots his eyes open. A sharp shift in his seat has the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “What the hell?!” he growls, practically snarling the words out. There’s a wave of anger heard in his tone that you don’t take a liking to. You wag your finger.

“That’s no way to talk, Katsuki.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I was so damn close to cumming! Why the hell did you stop?!” Bakugou yells vehemently with a pierce in his red eyes. You run your hands on his thighs as you lean up to return the look.

“Y’know if you’re going to act like this—act like a brat—I might as well just leave you here and not let you cum at all tonight, hm?” you threaten, and the notion brings his temper to an immediate silence. The idea of you keeping him bound to this chair while his cock cries for release is enough to diminish his poise. He sinks in his seat submissively when you inch closer, eyeing the bright red of your painted lips that curls salaciously with each word you utter to him.

“But if you behave, sit here obediently, and continue looking all pretty for me, I might let you cum. How’s that sound?” you offer.

He bites his lip. It’s like he’s making a deal with a succubus right now, that damn voice of yours coaxing him.

“F-Fine…” he manages to answer. You smile at his compliance before placing a kiss on his cheek. You’re granted a glimpse of the faint, red imprint left on his skin thanks to your lipstick when you detach from him. Almost as if you’ve marked him as yours.

“Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down his spine as you whisper it into his ear. He watches you descend onto your knees again, gazing at his cock like you’re about to pounce. And god, does he wish you would just do it already, but instead, you choose to prolong him some more and glance at him.

“Now… what do you want me to do to you?”

Really? Did you have to ask this? Bakugou furrows his brows at how you play cloy. “Argh, you already know—”

“I want to hear it from you though,” you interject, leaning forward and running a finger along a prominent vein on the side. His pretty cock twitches at your touch. “Use your words and tell me all the things you want me to do to you, ’Suki.”

Before he can bite his tongue, his mind is already one step ahead of him, blurting out his thoughts shamelessly. “God, I want to be in your mouth. I want you to suck my dick and let me cum in your throat. And then I want you to get up here, ride me to oblivion, and let me paint your pussy so fucking white. Please please please—” He adds in his pleas for good measure, the desire to climax overpowering his pride in the heat of the moment that feeds your ego.

The word “please” has never sounded so dulcet coming out of that usually vulgar mouth of his. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was capable of begging so well? It’d be an absolute shame not to reward him for his good behavior.

You lick your lips. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Then you begin acting on his wishes, your tongue making contact with his hard cock, gradually running up the side until you reach the head. Swirling against the tip causes a growl to bellow from his throat, jerking forward when you wrap your lips around the entire head. He watches with lidded eyes as your lipstick begins smearing across his dick, sucking him in like that.

His moans sound frenzied the more his cock inches into your warm cavern. The sounds encourage you to eagerly bob your head up and down his length with your spit collecting in the back of your throat. You adore the way his cock feels in your mouth, so heavy and thick, and especially love the fact that your controlled pace has your man reeling with pleasure, finally letting his unabashed whimpers out. You savor every little sound like it’s your favorite song on repeat, which it might as well be from how slick gathers at your cunt listening to them.

“Shit! Baby, please don’t fucking stop!” he begs, head tossed behind him as you moan your response into his dick, picking up speed. Your hand pumps his shaft a few more times until you bring it down to your panties to move the material aside and rub your clit. The contact sends a tingle through your body that urges you to bottom his cock into your mouth. Feeling your wetness enveloping his cock gratifies every nerve in his body until it ultimately leaves him undone.

”Agh! Sh-Shit—!” he curses, his climax peaking as his white cum spurts inside your throat. You make sure to swallow every last drop, tasting his delicious cream on your tongue as you detach from him with a lewd pop.

Bakugou is still catching his breath by the time you happily wipe your mouth of your excess spit and any lingering drops of his delectable seed, his chest heaving in and out with the red rope flexing at his every movement. A haze clouds his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, but he’s at least able to see you standing before him—lipstick now messy but that mischief in your eyes persisting.

“Sukiiii~ You’re absolutely gorgeous like this—tied up, sweaty, and gasping for air just because of me,” you praise.

“B-Baby…” Bakugou’s tone somehow rings higher than usual. Your eyebrows perk up, the wetness at your core saturating through your panties hearing the shameless little whine.

“Kiss me… please…”

Well, since you asked so nicely…

You straddle his thighs and bring your lips to his own, letting him taste the bittersweetness of his cum from your tongues fervently melding against each other. Soon the makeout session comes to a halt with a quick peck on his lips. He peers into your glimmering expression with an insatiable need, struggling in his bonds as his cock hardens once more at your proximity—skin so warm against him. But your lingerie still obscures him from your real treasures. He wants to rip it off you already.

“Can I get out this damn thing yet?” he asks, quiet yet impatient. You shake your head.

“’Fraid not, Katsuki, I still need to ‘ride you to oblivion,’ remember?” you quote him.

Crap. He does. And surprisingly, there are no objections when you remind him. His silence amid your established authority doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you grin devilishly at how pliant he’s become throughout the night.

As if you’ve read his mind, your hand finds the clasp fastened on your back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for me—” a simple flick of your wrist undoes the grip holding your bra together, “I’ll reward you for the rest of the night.” On cue, the skimpy garment glides down your shoulders.

Tossing the bra into the void of the bedroom, you can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your lips at Bakugou’s widened eyes aimed at your tits bared before him. He absentmindedly shifts in a vain attempt to lift his hands and grab your mounds, forgetting the rope bound on his arms behind his back prevents him from touching your soft, naked skin.

“Aw, you want to touch my tits?” you chide. Bakugou grunts in response, and you’re amused by the way he turns his head bashfully as if you miss the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. Such a cute little act.

Cupping your hand under his jaw brings his attention back to you. You nudge him so he faces you again, not allowing his eyes to gander anywhere else but on your own.

“I’ll let you do a little bit more than touch…” Your thumb lightly brushes his lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly, and he realizes what you want him to do.

And boy, is he eager to abide by your desires.

Opening his mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to latch onto your right nipple immediately, tongue poking out around the bud. You hum in content at how passionately he licks and sucks, petting the back of his head and brushing your fingers through his soft blonde hair to encourage him along.

“Ooooh… That’s it Suki… You’re doing so well, sucking on my nipple like that,” you moan as Bakugou moves over to your left breast, giving its twin the same amount of attention. He groans between licks, flattening his tongue and drawing out the sound erotically against your skin. It spurs you to grind your clothed pussy on his erection, earning you his hisses between tugging your nub into his mouth.

In the meantime, your other hand, not caressing his locks, stumbles upon your wetness seeping past your intimates, practically soaking through onto his dick. A few strokes of your fingertips beneath your panties gathers your gossamer-like slick that interlaces your digits together in a web. You tear Bakugou off your bud to hover your glossy fingers in front of him. Right away, he begins diligently licking away at the slippery sheen, moans lewdly vibrating deep in his throat with each swipe of his tongue.

“How do I taste?”

“So fucking good. Shit, I want more,” he says. You grin, flattered by his enthusiasm to devour more of your essence. However, you’d have to put that on hold for another time.

“Hm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I need you inside me right this second.” Your words have pure anticipation sparking through his body. He stares attentively as you lift yourself over the head of his cock, aligning his length into your soaked hole, panties pushed to the side.

“Arghhh…” Bakugou hisses between gritted teeth when the first inch enters, fists clenched around nothing at how tightly you’re squeezing him. Your whimpers accompany him as you adjust to his well-endowed size, a pleasant burn seizing you. Heat sprouts in your abdomen the more you descend on Bakugou’s firm, aching cock, eventually bottoming out with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so damn fucking tight—”

If your mouth feels good, then your pussy is practically heaven, inducing him in hot, tight bliss when you start bouncing up and down.

“Ah, Suki, your cock is so big… so hard…Mmph, I love how it fills me up!” you sing, arms wound around his neck, tits pressing against his chest. Having to sit back with nothing to leverage him amid your silky walls pressing around his cock, bursts of mini-explosions crackle in his palms. A musky scent of burnt caramel suddenly invades your senses, making your cunt clench tighter. Bakugou curses at how you hug his length.

“Fuck! Baby, I want you to ride my cock faster! Make me cum so damn hard that I feel it for weeks!”

Even when taking on a submissive role, Bakugou’s dirty talk never ceases to rile you up. You nod in reply, thighs flexed while your tempo on his cock increases to the point where it ensnares both of you in the throes of pleasure. Unable to do much except allow you to work yourself on and off him, he settles for leaning in and capturing your lips, which you respond to earnestly by parting your mouth to let your tongues dance again. A few particular hard drops later cause him to detach himself from you to groan out loudly.

The echo of your skins making firm contact against each other fogs his thoughts. His eyes are half-lidded when they gaze at you. You giggle at his expression—shrouded in pure bliss from his blanketed red eyes to his tongue peeking out of his lips. Caressing his jawline, you tilt his head up.

“Whose good boy are you?” you ask. It takes a second for him to answer.

“Y-Yours…”

You pry on, not letting up for even a second in your bouncing, “Who made you a pretty work of art tonight?”

“You! Fuck, you did!” he cries out, head tossed to the side that grants you access to the beautiful expanse of his neck. Your mouth finds his skin, kisses ascending until you reach the junction below his cut jawline as he continues reeling at the sensations building inside him.

“That’s right, Suki. So good, so obedient. I think it’s time I let you cum, yeah? Let you fill my little hole up with all your creamy white goodness…”

Your pace escalates quickly, not granting a relief of pause until you both begin arriving on the cusp of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck!! C-Cumming—!” Bakugou yells out, your grappling walls milking his twitching cock that surges into his climax. As promised, his cum coats your insides wholly white, stuffing you to the brim that has the heat inside you lurching. It’s right after the apex of his pleasure that your pussy spasms around him, body trembling, and toes curled as you peak into your high. He licks at your nipple arched in front of his face while your cries fill the space of the room.

By the time the two of you settle down in the aftermath of your euphorias, you’re both sweaty, panting messes. Bakugou more so as his head rests against your shoulder, allowing you to pet his hair between your fingers and comfort the tremors still racking through him.

“You did so so well, Katsuki. I’m very proud of you.” You lay a sweet kiss on his temple. Your praises manage to elicit a content hum from his lips while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Before you can get up and remove the tight ropes still lining his upper body, Bakugou suddenly lifts his head and meets your eyes, a tired yet devious expression painted on his face.

“Next time, we should tie you up in these things.”

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 10

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Word Count: 4.9 K

The loud buzzing of the tattoo gun was beginning to annoy Levi. The little pricks less annoying than the drone of the machine. He winced as the needle skimmed over a sensitive bit of skin.

"Try not to flinch." Farlan scolded as he readjusted his grip.

"Tch, sorry." Levi apologized through gritted teeth. Farlan reached for a wipe to clean off the excess ink, revealing the nearly finished piece. Like his other tattoos, this one was no different, the design was drawn out in thin delicate lines of ink. He had chosen to get this one on his tricep. Farlan spun his chair around to show Levi the design in the mirror, a flower, more specifically a lily of the valley. More specific yet, the flower for the month of May, the month his mother was born.

He nodded in appreciation a she admired the thin stem that led up to delicate bell shaped petals. The stems faded into a two leaves at the base of the design, they were all that needed to be filled in before the piece was complete.

"It looks good." Levi mused as he stared at the aggravated skin, the black lines were outlined with red angry skin.

"Thanks, I must admit I'm a bit rusty." Farlan chuckled as he leaned in with another wipe to clean the tattoo.

"Could've fooled me." Levi muttered as he turned in his chair to give Farlan better access.

"Let me finish this up and then we can go grab some lunch." Farlan gave the tattoo one last wipe down before he wrapped it in sandiderm. Once he was pleased with his work he tugged off the gloves and tossed them into the trash.

"Sounds good." Levi grunted as he stood up from the chair. Farlan had picked up tattooing as a side hustle, not that he booked many clients. It was more of a hobby for him, but he was rather good at it. As Farlan cleaned up the equipment and packed it back into his bag Levi went into the bathroom to wash up before they left for lunch. Isabel was out with friends, she hadn't been particularly interested in visiting the University with Levi and Farlan.

____

Levi trailed a few paces behind Farlan as they wondered through the sprawling campus. The campus had a dark academic vibe to it, with all the gothic architecture and the snowy lawns. Levi's trip was coming to a close, and he was glad that he had managed to squeeze in the visit. He spoke to an advisor, who was very enthusiastic about him applying. He figured that him coming from a single parent home, being an orphan with dual citizenship and good grades probably looked good for their statistics. So Levi and Farlan left, packets of information that they would need to apply. He decided that he should give Erwin a call, since he would be coming back home on the 26th, he originally intended on coming back after the new year but Hange had convinced him to come back early. Of course it was intended to be a surprise for Erwin and (Y/n), he felt bad for leaving Farlan and Isabel early but he figured that he could make up for the lost time when he got accepted into the University. They would have him all to themselves for four years if everything went according to plan.

"This place looks as good as any." Farlan paused in front of a small pub not too far from campus. Levi shrugged and kicked a chunk of ice out of his way. Farlan held the door open for him as they ducked into the dimly lit bar. The two settled into the barstools facing an impressive stock of alcohol, since it was about three in the afternoon the bar was basically empty save for a scraggly old dude that was mumbling to himself in a booth.

"Come here often?" Levi huffed as he inspected the sticky bar top. Farlan chuckled and waved for the bar tender.

"No actually, but I've heard that it's popular with the uni students." Faralan explained as he waited for the bar tender to finish counting the money in his hands.

"Two gin and tonics please." Farlan asked politely, the bar tender nodded and began to make the drinks.

"So you leave in what five days?" Farlan asked as he grabbed his drink and took a long swig.

"Yeah, sorry it was kind of last minute." Levi apologized, Farlan waved him off dismissively.

"Wait what did you get Isabel for Christmas this year?" Farlan asked as he slammed his already drained glass onto the counter.

"I bought her the DVD set for that one show she likes." Levi answered as he nursed his gin and tonic.

"Ah no way! That's a good one! The veterinary show right?" Farlan gushed, clearly impressed with Levi's choice of gift.

"Yeah that's the one." Levi nodded, a small smirk spreading across his lips.

"She'll love that. I got her some new jeans and a stuffed animal." Farlan shrugged, as he motioned for another drink.

"Not the shittiest choice." Levi mumbled as he brought his glass to his lips.

"Thank you Levi." Farlan held his glass up for a toast, and Levi indulged him, gently tapping his glass against Farlan's. Levi knocked back the rest of his drink before pulling out his phone to check his messages.

"What time should I pick you up from the airport?" Levi pursed his lips in thought before responding to Hange's text.

"Six in the morning." he typed his response quickly and sent it. He had already planned on arriving early to give himself plenty of time to prepare himself for the annual post Christmas party that your family hosted.

"See you then, don't have too much fun in France!" Hange's reply was instantaneous, Levi hated to admit it but he missed four-eyes and bushy brows. Hell he even missed Erwin's bratty sister.

_____

You draped your arm over your eyes in a feeble attempt to block out the blinding light that was flooding your living room. Although the snow was pretty, it sure was a bitch when the sun hit it, causing the light to reflect sharply in through the large windows in your living room. It was finally Christmas break, and you were enjoying it to it's fullest, basking in your sweats on the couch. Your mom had just gotten back from grocery shopping and was beginning to set out ingredients for the baking that she had planned to do for the rest of the afternoon. Erwin and Hange had gone ice skating with Mike and Nanaba, and planned to all meet up back at your house to assist your mom with the seasonal baking. Your phone chimed on the coffee table and you stretched to check it.

"Coffee and chill? 🥺" You rolled your eyes at Jean's message. He had been trying to contact you relentlessly for the past week. You had evaded him, not quite ready to confront him about his wrong doings. You ignored his text and instead favored to ask Mikasa if she wanted to come over to bake.

"hey I know it's been a while, but want to come over to bake cookies with me today? You could bring Armin and Eren if you want!" You sighed and dropped your phone back down onto the table with a sigh. You were pleasantly surprised by how quickly she responded.

"What time?"

"an hour?"

"See you then :)" You smiled at the screen as you read her response. You always thought it was cute how she preferred to use characters instead of emojis when she texted. You decided that a shower would be a good idea since so many people were coming over now, so you hustled up stairs. You were thankful that Hange and Erwin weren't home because they had made a habit of interrupting your showers. Whether it was Hange trying to join you in the shower to "save water" or Erwin coming in to take a massive dump while you were in the shower. So you fully took advantage of your uninterrupted shower time while you could. You took your time, washing your hair and the rest of your body and enjoying the hot water. By the time you were finished the bathroom was cloudy with steam from the hot shower. You wrapped yourself in towel and scurried to your room to change. You pulled on a pair of leggings and a cropped fitted turtleneck. You then proceeded to tug on a faded crew neck to complete the look. You loped down the stairs, but paused about half way down. The sound of shoes being toed off and a coat being hung up made you rethink your decision.

"Oh Kenny! I'm so glad you made it!" Your mom gushed and you bristled. It wasn't that you didn't like Kenny, it was just that you weren't expecting him. It seemed that your house needed to keep an Ackerman on hand at all times because as soon as Levi left Mikasa and Kenny began coming around more frequently. Your mom invited Kenny over for coffee on Sunday mornings and you invited Mikasa over for sleepovers and craft nights.

"Hey sorry I'm late, I brought booze though." Kenny's rough voice felt foreign to your ears. Despite his sudden presence at your house he still felt like a stranger to you. Of course you could only blame yourself here, you tried your best to avoid him and his questions, not sure how you felt about the gruff man. He seemed nice enough but you weren't quick to trust him, Erwin certainly wasn't either.

"Ah (Y/n)! Perfect timing! Come down stairs and say hello." your mom called out, you winced but obeyed, descending the last few steps.

"Hey there kiddo, how's it hangin'?" Kenny drawled as you slunk into the kitchen sheepishly.

"Hey Kenny, I'm good how are you?" You asked politely, aiming to please your mother more than Kenny. The man smiled triumphantly and leaned further back into his seat.

"I'm fantastic." he stated with a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"Mom, I invited Mikasa, Amrin, and Eren over is that alright?" you asked, dismissing Kenny.

"Yeah of course baby, the more the merrier!" she cooed as she continued to set up the mixer and prop up the cook book.

"So my little niece will be joining us tonight?" Kenny affirmed as he stood to help your mother untangle to cord of the mixer.

"Yeah." you trailed off, not sure if this was good or bad. Although the pair had both been frequenting your house recently, they hadn't run into one another yet. You knew that Levi had a bad relationship with his uncle, so you could only assume that Mikasa's relationship was also just as rocky.

"haven't seen that brat since she was in diapers." Kenny mused as he flipped through the cook book.

"really? Well she sure has grown. Such a lovely young woman." Your mother sighed dreamily as she thought about Mikasa.

"Glad to hear it.." Kenny mumbled as he paused on a gingerbread recipe. Before you could decode the meaning behind his bland tone, the door flew open and Hange sauntered in. Today she was dressed for the weather in a downy parka and leggings with a thick crewneck. Erwin followed close behind, dressed in joggers and a t-shirt, he tended to get hot easily. Mike however was different. Mike was dressed for Arctic temperatures with a thick quarter zip underneath his north face and a pair of denim jeans on his legs. Nanaba wore a quarter zip as well but leggings instead of jeans. You rushed to help them shove their coats into the cramped closet and put snowy shoes over vents to melt off the ice. Soon they were all crowding into the kitchen, Mike was quick to help your mom set out ingredients while Erwin went to light the fireplace. Hange was rushing up the stairs and Nanaba was skimming through the cook book.

Ah yes such a familiar scene. You immediately felt better in the presence of the upperclassmen, Kenny seemed to melt into the background as he watched you all fall into a familiar rhythm. Erwin returned to the kitchen, dusting his hands off as he entered.

"Hey." He greeted you with a slight nod before he stooped to pull a baking sheet out of the cabinets.

"How was ice skating?" you asked as you leaned against the counter near Erwin.

"Cold, we saw Petra and Oluo there." Erwin mused as he sat the sheet down with a clatter.

"Really? Are they a thing?" you quizzed, your interest piqued.

"Couldn't say, wouldn't surprise me though." Erwin shrugged, his large frame pressed against the counter opposite to allow Nanaba to squeeze through.

"I don't know Erwin, last time I spoke to her she seemed pretty fixed on Levi." Nanaba interjected as she stooped to pull out a bowl.

"I thought she was over him. He left her hanging at my house a few months back remember?" Mike reminded Nanaba who pursed her lips in thought.

"Oh yeah I remember that...she was upset." Nanaba agreed as she sat the bowl in front of you on the counter.

"Then why was she with Oluo huh riddle me that." Erwin challenged, a sly smirk on his lips.

"Oh they've always been close, doesn't mean she likes him or anything." Nanaba scoffed.

"Well he sure likes her, saw him checking out her ass." Mike chuckled, your mom gasped and hit him upside the head.

"That's enough you guys! (Y/n), Kenny mix cut this butter up." Your mom ordered, grabbing you by the bicep to drag you over to Kenny at the island. She dropped a huge brick of butter in front of the two of you along with two butter knives.

"Oh I can do it on my own mom." you insisted with wide eyes.

"Nonsense, show Kenny how it's done." she slapped you on the back and turned to help Mike crack eggs into the wet ingredients bowl. You and Kenny shared an uneasy glance, you took the knife and sliced the chunk of butter in half. You slid half to Kenny and took the other half for yourself. You began to slice the butter into thin chunks and drop them into a bowl. Kenny watched with raised brows, the knife hanging loosely in his hand. You spared him a glance and an amused huff.

"Just slice it into chunks and drop them in this bowl." you instructed, pushing the bowl closer to him. He chuckled and then began to tediously cut the butter into uneven chunks. You nodded in approval as he began to gain confidence.

"Where does this go once it's done?" Kenny asked as he finished chopping the butter.

"In the mixer." You directed, as you wiped your hands on a damp rag. The doorbell chimed and you weaved through the kitchen to answer it. You were greeted by the familiar faces of Mikasa, Armin, and Eren. The trio piled into the house and kicked off their shoes and shrugged off jackets.

"Perfect timing guys, we just started making cookies." You said as you helped Armin out of his coat.

"Great! We brought our piping tips." Eren said, holding up a plastic bag filled with piping equipment.

"Oh yeah I forgot that you're a natural at cookie decorating Mikasa!" you complimented as you guided them into the kitchen. You placed the bag next to Kenny who was staring at Mikasa with slightly widened eyes, she returned his gaze with a surprised expression.

"Hey hothead!" Hange called out to Eren in a sing song voice as she descended the stairs.

"O-Oh Hange!" Eren cringed at her volume as she swang into the kitchen.

"Hange!" Armin cried out excitedly, you'd known that Armin looked up to the brunette due to her intelligence.

"Aw hello coconut head." she cooed as she ruffled Armin's blonde mop of hair.

"And baby Ackerman!" Hange giggles, turning her attention to Mikasa who was scowling at the brunette.

"So nice to see you all!" Hange gushed as she pulled on an apron.

"That was an awful long shit. You constipated or something?" Mike scoffed as he whisked the eggs.

"Ha ha very funny Mike." Hange scoffed as she sidled up next to Erwin who was crushing almonds loudly with a rolling pin.

"I'm just trying to pick up the slack. Someone needs to make Levi's crass jokes for him." Mike sighed, setting the whisk aside.

"Ah I'm sure he will appreciate the sentiment." Erwin approved with a chuckle and another jaw-rattling smash of the rolling pin.

"Kids why don't you start rolling this dough out and cut them with these." Your mother instructed as she thrust the large mixing bowl into your hands and pointing over to Kenny. You led Mikasa, Armin, and Eren over to the open counter space. Mikasa was side eyeing Kenny as she sprinkled some flour out.

"I want to make a penis." Eren remarked, a stupid look on his face as he looked to Armin for approval.

"That's inappropriate Eren." Armin chided as he reached for the dough in the bowl. He dropped the heavy ball of dough with a thump and a whoosh of flour.

"Hah! I'd like to see it!" Kenny chortled as he brushed some flour off his shirt.

"See he gets me!" Eren chuckled as Armin began to roll out the dough. Mikasa and you both rolled your eyes at the boys. Nanaba breezed by and brushed her hand across both yours and Mikasa's shoulders as she passed.

"You girls want pizza?" She asked with an angelic smile as she stopped by the landline.

"Yes please!" Eren answered before either of you could.

"Shut up Eren!" You snapped before turning to look at Nanaba who was holding the phone up to her ear already.

"Yes please Nanaba, can you put pineapple on one of them?" you asked with a sweet smile.

"Ew pineapple on pizza are you insane?!" Hange screeched from across the kitchen.

"Now now, if you order one with pineapple I'll eat it." Kenny agreed as he pressed a cookie cutter deep into the dough.

"Ugh, you guys are disgusting." Mike shook his head in disappointment as he poured the liquid ingredients into the dry ones for the next batch of cookies.

"Alright everyone be quiet while I order this." Nanaba ordered as she pressed the phone between her ear so she could jot down the orders on a pad of paper. The volume in the kitchen fell from a roar to a soft murmur as Nanaba placed the order. Once Nanaba hung up the phone the bustle picked right back up. The cookie hustle only stopped once all the dough was in the oven and the pizza had arrived.

When it was all said and done you all settled in the living room to watch christmas movies and eat pizza. As the movie began to play you finally took some time to check your phone for the first time all afternoon. You were surprised to see at least twenty messages on instagram from a swagmasterfarlan. You clicked on the first message and your frown deepened.

"cutte assf."

"Let me show you parish"

"I cantreat you right."

":)"

The seventeen other messages followed a similar pattern. You noticed that the last message that had been sent two hours ago. You glanced at the clock and frowned, it was already eight pm. You considered blocking the account but upon checking, you realized that it was Farlan's side account. You'd seen drunk texts before and these were no different. You glanced up to see Kenny with his hat over his eyes as he snored on the arm chair. Your mom was already dozing off on the couch with her feet in Erwin's lap, Erwin had an arm around Hange who was babbling about special effects to no one in particular. Nanaba and Mike were in their own little world on the floor as they watched the movie. Eren and Armin were joking in hushed voices as Mikasa's head lolled against your shoulder. Yeah you could use some entertainment.

"I would love to see parish." you smiled at your response as you sent it. Not two minutes later a new message appeared.

"Woh, I'm durnk as shit."

"yes you are swagmaster ;)" you responded with a giggle.

"Let facetime before levi punches my face." Farlan's words were becoming clearer so you figured that he must be sobering up to some degree.

"Alright." as soon as the read receipts confirmed that he had gotten the message your phone buzzed as he called you. Mikasa grunted as you shifted to answer the call, you answered on the third ring, thankful for the darkness in the room which concealed your features for the most part.

"Heyyyyy kid!" Farlan drawled, you could tell he was in his apartment, the surroundings familiar due to the times you had facetimed Levi.

"Hey Farlan, nice to finally meet you. I've heard all kinds of things." You chuckled as he squinted at his screen.

"No kidding! Hey what time is it over there?" Farlan questioned as he brought his phone closer to his face, giving you a perfect view of his eyebrows.

"It's about 8:30 here, what time is it in perish?" You mocked his blunder from earlier and he gasped in offense.

"That's cold!" he moaned, playing along with your joke.

"Spell it right next time!" you snickered, you glanced up from your phone and met Hange's curious gaze, her head tilted to the left. When you returned your attention back to your phone you were surprised to see the camera was no longer on Farlan's face. Instead it was spinning, the sound of grunting and shuffling was deafening. You winced the struggle continues for a few moments before there was a thud and a deep groan.

"Get into bed now before I punch your lights out." Levi's voice was gravely and strained with exhaustion as he spoke. Hange's ears were still perked as she tried to figure out who you were on the phone with. Once she heard Levi's voice she stood up and skipped over to the sofa to sit next to you.

"I'm serious Farlan this isn't cute get the fuck in that bed or so help me-" the phone clattered down to the floor, and you could make out the sound of stumbling footsteps.

"What is going on?" Hange asked as she leaned on your free shoulder to see the screen. You shrugged and bit your lip as you tried to decipher what was going on.

"No Levi, I've got to talk to her, she's still on the phone!" Farlan grumbled, his voice sounded a bit far away.

"You can talk to her tomorrow just go lay down already." just by the tone of his voice you could guess that he was pinching the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was frustrated.

"nah I'll just go grab my phone and-"

"No." the sound of bed springs creaking and Farlan grunting hinted that he had been pushed onto a bed. After a few more moments of the bed creaking and incoherent mumbling, the sound of footsteps approached the phone and then finally the camera was turned back towards the ceiling as it was picked up. And then Levi's face filled the screen, his eyes widened in surprise, you snapped a screenshot of the moment much to his displeasure.

"What the fuck." he huffed as he took in both you and Hange's amused expressions.

"Hey Levi! How's it going?" Hange cooed as she angled your wrist to show more of her face.

"How-"

"He called me." You answered quickly as you angled the phone back onto your face.

"why?" Levi interrogated. You simply shrugged as you took in his face. You were relieved to see that he looked the same, maybe his eye bags were a bit darker, and his hair a tad longer. But otherwise, he was the same.

"What are you doing?" Levi continued to grill you, to answer his question you panned the camera around the room, sure to not linger on Kenny who was snoring in the chair across the room.

"Thrilling." he scoffed when you brought the camera back to your face.

"Yeah, we spent the day baking. What about you? Seems like you guys are busy." You began your own interrogation.

"Yeah, Farlan had one too many at the bar." Levi agreed as he dropped down into an arm chair with a heavy sigh.

"And you? Did you have anything to drink?" Hange asked with a sly smirk. Levi's brow creased at her suggestive tone.

"If you must know, no I did not drink.... a lot." he answered.

"Lucky, I wish I was drunk right now." you sighed wistfully.

"I never said I was drunk." Levi clarified.

"Any big plans for your birthday Levi?" You asked, quick to change the subject.

"No, just dinner and gifts." Levi replied with a shrug as he sank into the chair.

"That sounds nice." you smiled, Hange dropped her head to your shoulder, her chin digging into your shoulder as she did so. Levi shrugged and averted his gaze for a moment.

"Where's Isabel?" Hange asked as here eyes scanned the background, which was too dark to really reveal anything.

"In her room playing some stupid video game." Levi scoffed as he cocked his head in the direction which you assumed Isabel's room was.

"Fun." Hange mused as she closed her eyes.

"And you? What are your plans for Christmas?" Levi's question surprised you, but you still answered.

"Same as always, gifts in the morning, breakfast, hopefully be plastered by 2." you sighed, Levi scoffed at your answer but seemed satisfied.

"What about the 26th?" Levi asked carefully. you pursed your lips as you thought about your schedule.

"Hmm well I'm not sure, probably-"

"Oh I forgot to tell you, Annie is hosting a party and asked me if you'd come." Mikasa's sleepy voice startled you.

"Really? Huh that's weird. Are you going?" you asked, tilting your face down to speak to her.

"Yeah. We're smoking weed." Mikasa mumbled, her eyes still shut.

"Guess I'll go too." you shrugged. Meanwhile Hange and Levi shared a wide-eyed glance, this could throw off their plans. More specifically Hange's plans, even more specifically her plan to set you and Levi up.

"Weed?" Levi asked, clearing his throat after the word fell from his lips. You knew that he had smoked the stuff in the past, but recently he had stuck to his juul and the occasional dab pen.

"yeah, Annie has like 30 grams right now." Mikasa answered.

"I've never smoked weed before." you mused, excitement bubbling up in your chest at the thought of the chance for a new experience.

"Eh it's okay." Mikasa shrugged.

"Guess I'll just have to try it for myself." you teased, nudging her with your shoulder.

"Guess you will." Mikasa mumbled before falling silent once more.

"Well there you have it. I'm going to Annie's on the 26th." you smiled as you answered Levi's original question. With the 26th only three days away, it gave you something to look forward to.

"Fine. Do what you want." Levi rolled his eyes and stood from his chair, his whole vibe seemed to change. You wondered if it had been something you'd said or if he was just growing bored.

"I've got to go. Farlan's phone is almost dead." Levi said as he walked through the apartment.

"Oh well it was nice-" before you could finish he had already hung up, or the phone had died.

"Classic Levi." Hange chuckled as she rose up, stretching her stiff muscles before returning to Erwin's side. You rolled your eyes and sat your phone down in defeat. You reached behind you for a throw blanket to cover you and Mikasa, you shuffled over a bit so you were snuggled between the arm of the couch and Mikasa, who had followed you. Using the arm as a pillow you lied down as much as you could with Mikasa still using your side as a pillow, she had stretched out as well to prop her feet up in Eren's lap. Eren was already passed out, his head leaning against Armin's shoulder, who was in a similar position to you. It was nice, you hadn't made much time for nights like these recently. Since you had spent most of your time with Jean you had neglected your friends, and you felt awful about it.

You had missed them deeply, in fact this had probably been the longest you'd gone without a weekend like this. Your family had been close to the Jeagers since you were babies. Your mom and Dr. Jeager both worked at the same hospital and often worked together, they had only grown closer when your father died of cancer when you were 9. Grisha and Carla had helped your mother our a lot the months following his death. Meaning you spent a lot of time with Eren and Mikasa, and by extension Armin. That same year was when they took in Mikasa since Kenny had been deemed "unfit" for a second child in his care. You assumed that the Jeagers would be coming over for Lunch like they always did on Christmas, as well as Armin and his grandfather. You felt your eyelids grow heavy as you thought about all the preparations that were needed for you to host this year, and before you knew it you had fallen asleep.

122 notes · View notes

kth1 · 4 years

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Cut Shot [MYG]

Cut Shot [Yoongi x Reader] ⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+| Boyfriend AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: Established relationship, explicit, oral (M/F), alcohol use, condom sex, massage oil, lovey-dovey-flirtations, hint of cute jealousy, etc ⟶ WC: 10k+ ⟶ Summary: He hates the water, he hates the heat, and he hates the Sun. Any form of physical activity is a big no-no, yet Min Yoongi will go out of his way to show that he loves you on your mini vacation. ⟶ Teaser: “Breathlessly nodding your head, you drone at the loss of his fingers. You beam a hazy smile, the post orgasm paradise you swim in radiates off you. “Let me help you,” your arms stretch out to him.” ⟶ Beta Reader: None other that @shadowsremedy (thank you for doing this in a timely manner 🧡 you’re awesome!) ⟶ Author’s Note: This fic is apart of @jamaisjoons Summer Bucket List Collab. This is my very first collab I have been apart of and I am very happy to have been associated with this project!

The blistering sun beams from above, heat rising scorching hot off the sands. Seagulls squawking in the distance, some scavenging around for disposed food – or snatching some from the unattained.

Yoongi trudges along the beach, black Raybands sit on the bridge of his adorable button nose, a large sunhat, sandals, an excessive tropical theme button-up shirt, and obnoxiously colored swim trunks to set his attire. With each step he takes, his feet kick up sand behind him, a half empty beer in hand in a pink koozie snuggled around the bottle as he sips away at his delicious beverage, merrily.

He sees you ahead, prancing around on the beach volleyball courts with your pony-tail rung high and skin glistening in the light. Right beside those said courts is his destination – the row of canopy tents that provided him his only relief. Shade!

Groups of people huddle around the area, humans of all ages, shapes, color, and size. He secretly hopes the smaller children applied much more sunscreen than normally, especially how they’ve been in and out of the ocean’s water at least five times now. But who’s counting?

Yoongi trails himself back to your shared designated tent, plopping himself down on the double wide reclining lawn chair. Here, he gets a front row seat at your court and some relaxing shade. Feet up, cooler full of snackable food and drinks besides him, and the best view in town – you.

You, the outgoing bubbly beauty, are playing a fun pick-up game with the rest of your party along with a handful of locals. Volleyball is your game much like music is Yoongi’s muse. Even with several differences in interest, the two of you get along quite well emotionally.

Many times Yoongi catches you thanking Hoseok for introducing you to him, in all honesty that is the only way he would notice you. Yoongi prefers to stay in isolation, nose shoved deep in a music sheet or much too invested in staying in bed all day. Once in a while he will strike up a game of basketball with his friend group, but only on a good day.

At first Yoong was incredibly confused towards you. Why would you want to meet him? Who even were you and when or how did you guys ever run into another? Upon Hoseok’s persistent pleading, insisting that he ‘has a good feeling about the two of you’, Yoongi eventually agreed to meet up with this friend of Hoseok’s.

It was a small date, nothing fancy, just a warm afternoon coffee meet up in the middle of September. Yoongi sat with phone in hand, iced americano in the other, at the bar seats set up at the windowpane in the front of the store of the local café. He was so indulged at tapping away on his phone, he didn’t even register the presence of another standing right next to him. You found it utterly adorable how Yoongi nearly spat out his drink as he stood up to greet you properly, profusely apologizing for his behavior.

Yoongi admitted, he remained skeptical throughout the date, though he was completely intrigued by you. Not only were you attractive in his eyes, cute with a bit of a feisty bite, he admired the way you spoke. You had a hidden passion behind your words – you spoke with confidence, sometimes even assertive… and he liked that.

But, what he enjoyed most is how you would get lost in your words, ranting long sentences when you hadn’t realized you had said too much. Something about the way you talked perked his ears like a silent harp playing in the background of the world. What Yoongi noticed after that date was how you kept his attention the entire time. How it seemed that the two of you were vastly different in many ways, but he found something in you that reeled him in instantly. Before bidding goodbye after the cheap coffee date, he reached for your hand as he asked if you would like to do this again sometime.

Nine months later, he finds himself sitting court side to your beach volleyball game. On vacation with a few of his closest friends at a beach house along the coast. A quick getaway from home, promises of having some game nights and visiting a few touristy areas. The group was partially here to support you at your annual volleyball competition, but other than that they came to party.

“Got it!” you shout, alerting Hoseok – your current teammate – that you were receiving the ball. Yoongi watches as you dive forward into the tan sands, getting an arm under the ball just in time to pop it up for Hoseok to assist.

On the other side of the net, acting as your current rivals were Jungkook and Hoseok’s long-term girlfriend, Haru. They readied themselves up for a freeball to come over, acting fast when Hoseok sent the ball to the deep back corner of the court.

It is worth it to Yoongi to see your beautiful smile light up as you were enjoying the hobby you love most, watch you ravish the sport as if it were your natural element. The sweat beads off of your brow, forearms, even soaked the fabric slightly under each of your breasts of your bikini top.

A small bickering emits from Jungkook by the looks of it, clearly arguing about something that he finds unfair but it soon washes over from Hoseok kicking up sand at another for the sake of giggles.

You walk your way over to the tent with Haru after the two rambunctious men chase another towards the ocean. Your boyfriend, who looked completely unbothered by the environment around him even though you knew he’d do anything to be back inside with the cool air conditioner, welcomes you with a warm smile and an iced cold water bottle from the cooler that he has been monitoring because it harbors all the beers.

“Hey babe,” you lean down, placing a quick peck to Yoongi’s plump lips. He tastes the salt of your sweat, and you taste the alcohol on his breath. “Day drinking much earlier than yesterday?”

Yoongi shrugs in his chair, tilting his head back to finish off his current beverage, “It’s 5pm somewhere... It’s a vacation after all.”

You guzzle down your fresh water, towel wrapping around your neck to help pat down the glistening sweat that coats you. “I’m not judging,” you smile with a wink, “just observing. I don’t want you to be bored.”

“I’m not bored when I watch you. Plus it’s fun to see Jungkook get riled up.”

Grabbing hold of one of the many randomly scattered candy bags, Jungkook’s unhealthy snack choices at it’s finest, you settle with a few gummy worms to toss in your mouth. “He does get worked up fast when it comes to games.” The two of you laugh while looking over at the ocean to see Jungkook having Hoseok flipped over his shoulder and walking deeper in the water for a proper body slam.

“What should we have for dinner tonight? Home cooked or take-out?” Haru inquires, scanning over her phone for local restaurants that may peek the group’s interest.

Yoongi checks the time on his watch, grimacing at the thought of food shopping so soon when it nearly took you all three hours. A wad of cash was eliminated from his bank account, in the store to pack for the trip in the first place. Thankfully you had offered to him that he wouldn’t have to pay a single dime the entire vacation to make up for covering everyone that day.

“Let’s grab a bite somewhere, I’ve been to a place called Poseidon’s, lots of seafood and such! My treat.” You gleam a smile towards Yoongi who’s eyes widened at the word seafood, knowing very well how your man enjoys himself some nice cooked lobster.

Another day, another play.

Ever since visiting this great spot, your party visited the beach nearly every day! You on the other hand had no choice in the matter because you were practicing for your tournament at the end of the week with your partner. Annually, your old high school best friend and you would sign up for this beach tournament, catch up with another and reminisce on the younger years. It was only for the first week that you’d be tied to this obligation and luckily your group booked the rental house for two weeks, giving you more time with your friends afterwards.

Maggie, someone who you grew up with ever since befriending another in middle school, was your go-to gal for years before college separated another. She continued to a division one school on an all paid scholarship for volleyball. Your interests were a bit more separate from hers and you find yourself attending a creative arts school, division three, but you still continued to play for your schools team. As much as volleyball will forever be embedded into your blood, you found a new focus when it came to creativity and joined a school where you’d learn how to become a creative director of some sorts.

Together, Maggie and you spent most days making up the lost time. Your group was more than understanding prior to even agreeing to this vacation, and you all promised to make it worthwhile. One day, Yoongi had joined Maggie, her boyfriend Taehyung, and you on a lunch date. You were happy Yoongi showed up, given the fact that he’s a bit introverted and shy, but regardless the lunch went smoothly and to both Maggie’s and yours surprise - the two of you had found out that Taehyung and Yoongi knew another because they, too, went to the same high school.

Now, as you practice your heart out on the beach courts, Hoseok and Yoongi are padding their feet across the hot sands, hauling the belongings with a small wagon, far away from sight.

“I know the basics - the idea of how to play.” Yoongi insists, “I just want to be able to play with her. Nothing fancy.”

“Sounds pretty fancy to me. C’mon she’s the first girl to get you up off your ass. You must like her enough to endure the summer heat, exercising, the sun…” Hoseok counts off his fingers one by one.

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Yoongi shoves Hoseok in the shoulder. “Just get on with it and show me what I need to do.”

“Ok, first, you smile wide like this!” Hoseok giggles and manages to duck just in time from Yoongi’s flying hand.

The two pivot themselves off in the distance, much further down the beach than the volleyball courts could see, and far away from your view. To your knowledge the entire group dispersed to enjoy whichever activities they wish to do while you practiced with your partner. What you didn’t know is that Yoongi had asked Hoseok, on one of his drunken moods, for some one-on-one training so that he can pick up on the hobby you love most - to surprise you by the end of vacation and play a game of pick-up with you.

“Pass this!” Abruptly, Hoseok chucks the beach volleyball at Yoongi - only for him to naturally catch it with his hands. “No! Shake that basketball reflex, arms together! And extend! Make a platform - now pass it.”

Biting back his sharp tongue, Yoongi tosses the ball back for Hoseok to repeat the action, this time now he is prepared to pass it effortlessly with his forearms.

“Great!” Hoseok squabbles, “but, now you need the proper position. Bend your knees.”

“I have to bend them?” Yoongi reacts with a distasteful gesture.

“Center of gravity needs to be low for movement. Don’t plant your feet! The sand makes it much harder to move in.” He scolds with a push of his hands to Yoongi’s back, knocking the older man off balance. “See, you’re off center!”

Yoongi scoffs, “Pushing me around isn’t helping!” He fixes his friend with a stern glare through his cat-like eyes.

“Yeah, but it makes you focus. You do better when someone’s on your ass. I hear it all the time back at the apartment, Y/n is a bit… assertive in the bedroom.” Hoseok winks, eyes squinting from corner to corner.

“It’s no better compared to the amount of broken furniture that came from your room,” Yoongi quickly retorts, “even the damn couch is still broken!”

Hoseok shrugs, “not my fault both Haru, and you enjoy being bossed around by their significant others.”

Yoongi retaliates, “It’s not being bossed, maybe in your case, but not mine. We go both ways.”

Hoseok tosses the ball once again, hoping to pepper aimlessly with Yoongi and get him used to moving around, “You sure about that? You’re a passive person, Yoongi. Even I can pick on you and get away with it.” Hoseok taunts with a light heart, returning the ball back and forth between the two of them.

“Not everything is about being physical.”

Hoseok smirks, a judging last look before lightly hitting the volleyball down into Yoongi’s platform with the snap of his wrist, “We have a lot to work on, especially when it comes to hand setting. Maybe tomorrow when Y/n isn’t around we can snag a court and play a game with Haru and Kook.”

“We’ve exhausted spades, go-fish, and even tried blackjack.” Jungkook slurs his words around the neck of his beer bottle. He curls up along the armchair where he aimlessly stares up at the ceiling fan, counting out how many times it spins until forgetting where he left off.

“Well, it’s not the weekend just yet, so the bars won’t be that fun right now.” You speak, a small smile spread across your face as you glance over the table at your boyfriend who is nose deep into another playing card manual.

Jungkook’s large eyes look at you with hope, “will you go bar hopping with us when we do?”

“We’ll see how tired I am after the tourney, but I would love to, Kook!”

“Bullshit!” Hoseok’s voice pierced through the sound of pop music playing from Haru’s phone, hand slapping the table timed at the sound of his voice with a finger pointed up on the other as if a lightbulb had gone off above his head. Everyone glances over at him from the sudden outburst, “we haven’t played bullshit yet!”

You blink, shock value very evident on your face at Hoseok’s accusation. “For a second I thought you were calling me out, saying I wasn’t going to go out.” Laughing, you gather up a handful of playing cards that scattered the tabletop and begin shuffling the deck.

“Well, that too. We’ve been here only a few days, but you’ve been a bit too busy for some things. And a bit cranky at night too.” Haru jabs Hoseok with her elbow to his side, making him wince the moment her pointy bone contacted him.

Raising a questioning eyebrow at him, you briefly peeped over at Yoongi who only raised his shoulders to indicate his indifferences under your stare.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter. “This tournament is important to me, and it’ll be over just after the weekend. We’ll still have a few extra days for activities.”

“Yeah, noona is going to dance with me. It’s already set.” Sweet, drunken Jungkook sighs, head tilt back on his chair. His lips pursed, eyes closed as he imagines the upcoming bar crawl.

Yoongi interjects, head snapping up to glare over Jungkook, “You’re not going to get all handsy with my girlfriend.” He frowns, tossing a handful of papers to the side. “There’s plenty of single locals here. You’ll have no problem picking one up at a bar.”

Jungkook peeks one eye open, a cocky grin drawn to his face, “Worried about me taking Y/n?”

You sit there rolling your eyes, Hoseok too preoccupied by Haru snuggling up against him, and Yoongi death staring Jungkook - probably lighting him on fire in his mind.

“As if.” Yoongi challenges, grabbing hold of his almost empty drink to finish off with one swig.

“Guess noona never told you about Valentine’s day weekend? It was magical.” Jungkook snickers, until the push of Yoongi’s chair alerts the younger one of his hyung standing up, ready to go straight for Jungkook. Quickly, the tyrant Jungkook, jumps himself off the chair, throwing a pillow back towards Yoongi as he scampers his way down the hall, away from Yoongi’s wrath and out of view.

Yoongi shakes his head, “this kid is always so scared of me.” He collects the litter of empty bottles from the coffee table, gathers up the useless waste of napkins and food wrappers around the room to dispose of them in the trash.

“I’m sure he has many reasons to fear you. I had only given him a kiss to his hand when he burnt it when taking the pizza out of the oven. Guess that’s enough leverage for him to toy with.” You laugh, joining him along with cleaning up the table where you sit.

“I know,” he chuckles. “The moment it happened he came running into the living room to tell me. He acts like there was more to that.” Yoongi side-eyes you skeptically, almost playfully, “better be all that there was.”

For some time now, Haru rests her head against Hoseok’s shoulder and you were sure she was probably too tired to do much else, especially at the way she nearly tilts forward when Hoseok moves his body. Haru braces herself quickly, eyes shot wide, and glances you with a sheepish smile.

“Go to bed.” you urge, “both of you. Aren’t you going to the festival in the morning with us? Get some rest.”

Both Haru and Hoseok sluggishly get up from their spots, placing a few empty glasses to the counter before departing the room to their quarters. It is a bit late after all, and once the alcohol sinks in a bit everyone starts feeling a bit tired. You’re sure by morning everyone will be rejuvenated, energized to go straight back to partying.

Without notice, Yoongi stood behind you, resting his hands on both of your shoulders. “Hey…” He whispers.

You make a noise of acknowledgement, raising one of your hands to lay on top of his to rub soft circles around his knuckles.

“You okay, babe? You seem… stressed.” His hands emphasized the word by lightly squeezing the tendons of your shoulders. He feels your body react instantly, the tightness of your back slowly being worked over with his firm thumbs. Rolling over a tight knot, the flick of his thumb forces you to jolt from the straining muscle.

You laugh at your reaction, “Yeah. I guess I am. I’ve been so busy with practicing for the tourney, I guess I haven’t noticed my body has been so –“

“Stiff?” He is quick to finish your sentence, dipping his head down to peck an innocent kiss to your head. You nod with a sigh.

“You’ve been so occupied,” his lips came back down, “you probably forgot that you’re on a vacation.” He smirks into your hair, running his fingers up your neck to your jaw. Yoongi tilts your head back, enough to kiss you upside down.

It's lazy at first, soft pouty lips peppering another in sync. Until Yoongi deepens the kiss, daring himself to push his tongue into your mouth. The wet muscle met with you in a savory passion.

He tastes just as you expect, a hidden spike of whiskey and the odd flavor of mint lingering on his breath.

“Come.” Yoongi breaks away. Walking in front of where you sit he takes your hand in his, leading the two of you back to your bedroom.

“Yoongi…” you drawl out the syllables of his name with a sigh of defeat. “Yoongi, I’m sore.”

Before making it completely down the hallway, he pulls you into him with an arm snaked around your waist and a hand lifting your chin. With a soft smile across his face he gazes down at you with mirth, “I know babe, I’m here to make it better.”

You smile, raising your eyebrows in question, “Oh, yeah?”

Yoongi almost matches your mannerism, but instead gives you a sly look with a poke to your nose. “Yes. Now come.” With a flip you’re facing forward. His arms securely around your middle, Yoongi proceeds to waddle the two of you the rest of the way down the hall and into your room with a fit of shared giggles.

He kicks the door close behind him, ushering you to the edge of your shared bed. Before he let you turn, nuzzling his head between the crook of your neck to leave fleeting kisses across your supple skin.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, picking at the hem of your shirt.

You hum a tone of acknowledgement, smirking as Yoongi raises the loose material off your body. From here he can see your tan lines complemented by your sports bra, a slight shade darker than your beautiful natural skin tone.

He lightly tugs at one of the crossed straps, allowing it snap against your back. “This too.”

You look over your shoulder with a playful smile, “Of course.”

Cuffing the bottom of your bra you raise it up, allowing freedom to your soft set of mounds before Yoongi is fast in scoping both up with his hands before you could toss away the piece of clothing.

After disposing your athletic top his lips peppered along your shoulder blade.

“Now what?” You question while topping your hands over his.

“Lay down for me,” he directs with a loving slap to your right ass cheek, “face in the pillows.”

Cautiously, you kneel your way up the length of the bed, watching Yoongi who had walked over to a bag besides the dresser. He shuffles through its contents before pulling out a clear bottle with a rosé color top. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion while pressing your cheek to the fluff of a pillow.

Reading into your quizzical look your boyfriend responds with a wink, “Amber and argan oil.” He teasingly shook the container while stepping closer to the bed.

“You brought massage oil?” You ask, stunned.

“Thought we’d try it out.” Yoongi shrugs, lifting the remainders of your hair off your back, clearing up his workspace.

You groan with satisfaction as Yoongi perches himself over your body, resting his ass on the back of your thighs. “Mmm, I fucking love you,” you giggle into the sheets.

The sound of the cap popping off the bottle arouses your ears and soon enough you feel the lukewarm drizzle down the base of your spine. Its lightweight aroma is subtle, but has a soothing sweet smell.

Instantly your body melted into Yoongi’s fingertips, they diligently work the slippery liquid across your skin.

“I love you, too.” The smile is heard through his voice. He enjoys the way your back arches towards his hands, the way it chases his touch. He isn’t featherlight, his deft fingers are trained well against the taught muscles of your back, aiming to help un-knot you a bit.

His thumbs are quick to find the tightness along your shoulder blades, taking note to pay special attention to the areas with rigid and stressed muscles.

You deeply sigh into the pillow; eyes close comfortably in relaxation by Yoongi’s skillful digits.

A soft chuckle resounds from his chest, “you’re already moaning for me, babe?”

You nod your head, unashamed.

He watches the scattered goosebumps decorating your back appear and deplete in small fractions. Takes in your sun-kissed skin, the smooth gleam of oil slicking the surface. He smirks at your soft noises and the pleas that ask him to go softer or harder.

Boldly, Yoongi makes an effort to venture lower, dipping his hands into the waistband of your shorts. He rests the elastic below the swell of your ass, grabbing a firm handful of cheek in both palms.

You grumble in submission, not particularly upset with his choice of massage pattern.

Involuntarily, your body acts on its own accord. Arching yourself to further lift your bottom into his kneading hands.

“Careful, Y/n.” Yoongi spiritedly warns. “You’re going to make me hard if you keep that up.”

His thumbs hooked into the muscle of your exposed butt, applying a strong prod into the tenderness. You squirm under him, teeth trapping your bottom lip as a small mewl escapes your nose.

“Easy, easy!” He lets up, moving his hands to your hips. Running circles into your skin with the pads of his fingers, he continues to coax you. “I’m just trying to loosen you up.”

“I know. It feels good. It feels really good, Yoongi.” Huffing with a laugh, “I can’t believe how sore I am.”

Yoongi leans up, clutching his hands around your shoulders and casually dipping himself closer to you. “I can,” he whispers. Yoongi plants a small kiss between your shoulder blades, his hips leaning closer to the round of your ass. There you feel it – a slow drag along the crack of your cheeks of his hardening dick stuffed insides his shorts. He hums when you purposely push up to feel him more.

“I see that someone else also needs to loosen up a bit.”

Yoongi leaves room for you to spin in your spot. Once face-to-face he dips his head closer to yours, nudging your nose against his. “Maybe. Will you help me?”

Your hands raise the material of his shirt up his thin torso, watching Yoongi expertly yank it off in one swift movement.

“Of course, I’ll help you.”

Your smile met his lips with a soft peck that soon turns into a more heated make-out. Your tongue grinds against his just how his hips did into your pelvis.

Those nimble hands of yours traveled the expanse of his sides, legs raised for him to slot between. The kiss races into fervor, your fingers brush against his undercut, tugging at his thick locks and his fingers are desperate to tease your nipples.

You missed this, you missed him.

“Hold on, let me grab a condom.” Yoongi detaches his lips from yours reluctantly, retrieving a foil pack from a nearby drawer.

Your tongue quickly swipes between your parted lips, watching with a craned neck at your boyfriend who exhausted no time clearing his shorts and slinking the rubber snug along his swollen length. With a few languid tugs at his cock he wiggles his eyebrows towards you.

Whining almost pathetically, you rub your thighs together as you take his image in. Your boyfriend is handsome after all, you yearned to meet him many months ago because of your massive attraction to the way he looked. Learning to love him, and how dedicated and invested he is with parts of his life which make him happy – you being one of those things.

You grow more attracted to his whole being, ethos and all. His intuition, spirit, and character as a whole is what draws you into him every time. He makes you feel normal and special at the same time. Yoongi has a way about him that always makes you think about how deep his mind actually can be, always surprising you when he opens up.

Yoongi saunters back over to you, hands at your knees and running up the plane of your thighs to pull your bottoms off with your assistance.

“Wanna see how wet you are,” he rasps with the spread of your knees. Yoongi positions himself between your limbs, groaning when your slick glistens in the light. Inserting two fingers with little resistance, he listens to the high pitch breath that catches in your throat. With a thumb at your clit and two fingers knuckle deep – he sets a speedy pace.

You clench and unclench in unison to his pads stroking against the rough spongy area embedded in your walls. Yoongi stares at the rise and fall of your chest, the way your mouth parts with each soft moan. You’re beautiful and he knows it, but he wants you to know it – and feel it.

The warm sensational build up lingers in the pit of your stomach, an all too familiar sign to tell you’re coming close to your peak. Yoongi smirks, noticing this behavior, if not by the way your legs wiggle more and the way your head tosses to the side, but also by the way your cunt tightens around his two slim digits.

“Yoongi –“

His name rolls off your tongue as lustful as ever, your hand latching around the wrist connected to the fingers that assault your in a blissful manner. With his unoccupied hand now holding your hips in place, he inclines his head closer to your core. He replaces his thumb with his mouth, matching the rhythm of his deft fingers.

You shutter underneath him, both hands carding his hair for purchase while waves of pleasure vibrated through your cunt and the expanse of your body. The cream gathering around his fingers made its way into his mouth, savoring your natural essence.

“Feel good?”

Breathlessly nodding your head, you drone at the loss of his fingers. You beam a hazy smile, the post orgasm paradise you swim in radiates off you. “Let me help you,” your arms stretch out to him.

Gladly, Yoongi careens closer, angling himself expertly so that the tip of his condom-covered cock dipped within your folds. Without dithering he pushes forward, sinking his cock in your wall-hugging slippery warmth. Inch by inch he disappears inside you, hitting the base of his pelvis against your clit. With arms snaked around your naked body he rests his head against your shoulder, turned enough to nip along your jawline.

His dick fills you up completely, deliciously. If it wasn’t for the slow shallow deep thrusts he gave your cunt, you’d be completely happy just holding him inside you for hours. In this position it was easy to grind himself into your clit, also easier to lock eyes with your flushed-out expressions.

The two of you exchange pleasurable moans that boosts another’s confidence. Audible noises that turned each other on even more, stroking your lustful pride that the both of you are fully enjoying the dirty act.

“Faster, please.” You match your hips up with his. Squelching noises fill the room with the snap of Yoongi’s thrusts. The wetter you get, the more tempting it is for Yoongi to ram straight into his your pretty cunt.

The jutting of his body scoots yours up with each stride, your legs locked around his waist and arms hooked around his back to anchor yourself.

Sweat coats around his hairline, threatening to form droplets that eventually would escape his body. The summer night’s dry air hugs the two of you, rising temperatures amplifying your bodies. The smell of sex loiters in the room, no doubt. And you silently thank that famous engineer for inventing the air conditioner, the one that sat in the window to your right - you’re positive the both of you will rush straight to it after this intimacy ended.

Between grunts, Yoongi whispers profanities. Swearing under his breath and murmuring dirty words into the shell of your ear. “Did you like my fingers in you?” “Like this cock deep inside you?” “You feel fuckin’ fantastic.” “I want to bury myself inside this pussy every night.” “I love you.”

Each sentence fills your mind, swirling your emotions and hormones. It is hot. You sang back your appeals, smiled wide as he sends your body into pleasure.

“Flip.” You request, hauling Yoongi enough to make him roll with you.

You settle atop him, dick still very much intact inside your body. Yoongi gazes at you with hooded eyes, his hair fanning around his head. The beat of his heart matched the same pace as your own, both panting for oxygen and running with the enjoyment your bodies are experiencing.

Bouncing on him with what little strength you still have, you fuck yourself on his swollen cock while Yoongi’s hands are gripping your waist like a vice. The bed squeaks under your weight, his head bobs along with your ministrations, Yoongi’s jagged breath warns you that you’re doing exactly what his body wants.

“Babe, I’m…“

“Me too.” You gasp once his thumb locks onto your clit again, drawing figure-eights quickly. Your walls squeeze around his tender length, body jerking with each ambitious dive of his cock into your cervix.

Yoongi’s head tosses back, brows furrowed in concentration while his bottom lip traps itself between his set of teeth. The erratic moment of your body convulsing on top of him made him lose it – draining himself in the condom with lewd moans and nails digging into the flesh of your hips.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he chants with declaration. Mere seconds after his orgasm, you find your second one. A cry breaking free from your mouth, you rock yourself on his shaft throughout your fervent ride, arousal seeping all around his pubic hairs.

Leaning down, you kiss another between labored breaths, “Thank you so much.”

He snorts a laugh, holding you against his chest as his softening dick slips out from your spent hole. “You feel a bit better?”

“A lot better.”

As much as you love to cuddle against your boyfriend, the two of you became much more socially aware of how agonizingly sticky your bodies have become. Unenthusiastically, you peel yourself off the top of Yoongi, rolling yourself to your back. You stare senselessly at the air conditioner that mocks you, frowning about how far of reach it is from the bedside.

“You think if we turn it on full blast, by the time we’re done with a shower it will be super cold in here?” Yoongi asks, sitting himself to the edge of the bed to carefully yank off the condom without spilling his seed. He looks over his shoulder to you, back and buttcrack exposed to your view and you couldn’t help but smirk fondly at him.

“God, I hope so. I feel so disgusting right now.”

Giving yourself enough recuperation time, the two of you finally lift yourselves off the bed, turn on the air conditioner and work your way to the bathroom. The brisk shower remains lukewarm, the sticky sweat washes away with soap sudz and water. Your boyfriend and you came back to a frigid bedroom, a perfect temperature to slink bodies together and canoodle another under the comfort of a blanket for the rest of the night.

Rejuvenation at its finest, indeed.

Now that it’s Friday - a day before your tournament - you join the group along with the festivities taking hold at the beach front. You share a way-too-sweet customized coffee, some delicious chocolate dipped churros and apple fritters with Yoongi. Battle Haru and Hoseok with the water-shooting contest and also were able to pick out a few hand-made beaded bracelets to gift to your entire party.

Jungkook and Yoongi went head to head at being the winner with the highest score on the dunk tank, earning one of the larger stuffed purple koalas. To your amusement, and Jungkook’s ego, he gifts you the prize after rubbing his victory in Yoongi’s face.

“He does it on purpose, Yoongi.” your arm linking around his, watching Hoseok share a singular strawberry malt with Haru between two straws. A corny-coupley thing that you find cute.

Yoongi tips his hat forward, rubbing his nose quickly to act as if he wasn’t bothered. “I let him win that.”

“Right,” you peck his shoulder with a kiss. “You reacting the way you do only compels him to continue.”

“Yeah, one day he’s going to get it,” he pouts, turning over to look at you with a concerned look. “Can’t have him thinking he has any chance.”

You bite back a smile, squeezing his arm tighter to your body. “Never. Kook isn’t my type.”

“And what is?”

“You,” you coo, grabbing hold of Yoongi for a kiss now to his lips. “Your voice, eyes, that gummy smile of yours.”

“Irrelevant.” Yoongi smirks, nudging you forward toward a booth with swinging basketball hoops.

“That deep sexy voice of yours, especially in the mornings when I wake up next to you.” You continued to list more things off despite Yoongi’s pleas for you to stop. “I even have a thing for…” you look down his front with a playful smile, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

“Enough, enough!” he laughs, shaking his head at your ridiculousness.

Even though from the outside it never seems like Yoongi enjoys attention, compliments, or too many loads of love - you know he appreciates everything positive you say about him.

“But, what I like most,” Yoongi pays a staff member a few dollars for his shot at the game. You watch his first throw, sinking the ball straight into the moving basket that is purposely bent to rig the game. “The way you are very genuine about everything. You wear your heart on your sleeve. How you can’t hide your fond expressions when someone you care for does something endearing. When you shy away from affection but secretly crave it.”

Yoongi turns his head to look you in the eyes, even with puzzlement dressing his soft face you can see the wonder lurking in his sharp eyes. He shuffles his basketball between his hands anxiously, anticipating your next words.

“You have one of the most kindest of hearts I have ever had the privilege of getting to know. And I love you.”

With another flick of his wrist his ball goes to the air, bouncing against the backboard of the moving basket and lulls itself into the hoop. You see the bob of his Adam's apple, a slight furrow of his brow, but what you can’t realize is how your words truly affect him. You live with the comfort knowing that Yoongi has a hard way of expressing his emotions, the thoughts in his mind that race in and out can not form coherent sentences to explain what he is feeling.

Managing to score four out of the five throws, Yoongi alternatively wins a prize from the top shelf. His hand skims the small of your back, drawing you closer to his side as he requests you to pick one to your liking. You point at a stuffed flamingo, excitement runs through you when the item turns out much more softer to the touch than what it looks like - much like your boyfriend who now stares down at you with precaution.

“I love you, too.” he mutters, a small coy smile spreading across his lips.

You had practiced one last time with Maggie before the tournament day, during which Yoongi and Hoseok managed to snag in more volleyball learning without your notice. Even this time they had Haru and Jungkook to help with learning, and surprisingly Yoongi had caught on to the game fairly fast. Even shocking Hoseok with the way Yoongi became a very strong setter with lack of experience. Something about Yoongi with his hands made everything come a bit natural.

You try - try - your best to go to bed at a decent hour that night, considering that you had to wake up and check-in to your tournament by eight in the morning, set up your canopy and figure out which court you’d be playing on. It was hard to fall asleep at a reasonable hour no thanks to Hoseok’s obnoxiously loud laughter and sputtering words that broke through even the heaviest set of walls. Not even the hush of the air conditioner blowing cold air on high could overcome the harsh vocals of tipsy Hoseok.

Thankfully, your boyfriend who checks on you a few times within the early night solves the problem of the loud outbursts emitting from the living area of the house. Mainly after the death glare you had shot him with only out of annoyance and a curse under your breath saying “i’m going to fuckin’ murder Hobi if he doesn’t shut the hell up.”

It was quiet after that and the moment your body found solitude to drift itself into slumber it was comforted by the warmth of Yoongi’s arm slinking around your waist, drawing your body against his as his warm breath fans out of his nose into the back of your neck.

Your eyes remain shut until the blurting noise from your cell phone awoken you in the morning.

Now you find yourself in your first match, first set against an opposing team. The air runs from the ocean, a cool breeze before the hot summer sun decides to warm up the sand below your feet. Pool play usually is hit or miss, sometimes a random good team would dominate the other teams in the pool, and luckily you were that very team.

As the day runs, both you and Maggie go against the other four teams - coming out on top in each match, besides one where the teams split wins. You’re feeling great, Maggie and you become a massive threat towards nearby courts, people knowing who may be the future competition once pool play is over and the winning teams advanced to the next level.

During the middle of your games, your party finally joined Maggie’s boyfriend under the tent, in favor to help support you to the fullest. It makes you happy to see your favorite humans watch you do well, a boost of confidence always spiking when you can hear the loudest cheers from the sideline knowing damn well it was your good friends rooting you on.

Tip-toeing along the hot sand side-by-side with Maggie, you run over to give Yoongi a quick hug as you collapse yourself on his seat. “Slept in later than expected?” You tease, noting the time on your watch.

Yoongi ticks his head towards the youngest who had found purchase in a lounge chair, beach blanket covering his body, “He got a bit more wasted than he expected. Took Hobi and I three different styles of waking his ass up.”

“And what was the solution?” You laugh with the twist of your water bottle cap, graciously taking a well deserved swig of fresh water.

“Titty-twisters.”

You hear a subtle groan from under the blanket of which Jungkook lays, earning a chuckle from the crowd around him.

“I see,” you snuggle yourself closer into Yoongi’s embrace. “Guess Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to dance with me tonight after the tourney...”

“Wait - no! I’m fine!” He jumps up, blanket falling off abruptly to unveil the round, red, puffy, sleepless eyes of Jungkook. They wince due to the sunlight bouncing off the surroundings, hair array every way possible. “We’re dancing!”

“Get more rest and some tylenol in you before even thinking about going to the bar tonight.” You scold, tossing him a random snack from the side pocket of your duffle bag. “And start eating some non-greasy things.”

Both Maggie and you had finished your lengthy beach tournament; ending up losing in the finals against one of the recurring top teams known to play at this competition. It was close of course, only losing by a few point differentials but it didn’t matter to either one of you at that point in the day because second place has been the farthest the two of you ever had come in the years of playing in this tournament. After surpassing through the semifinals, the two of you were content with whichever outcome you had coming.

And hey, you guys still won some cash prizes for being in second seat!

After packing up your canopy, riding back to your temporary vacation home to wash up and take a small nap before heading out for the night, you had promised the entire group that you’d take care of tonight's bill and urged the drinkers to go buckwild.

Poseidon’s pub and nightclub is one of the top hotspots in this area, great live bands every weekend with two different decks and three separate bars, this establishment was your top priority to show off to your friends. By the time your party shows up to the club it’s blasting out loud pop music and flashing lights all around.

Jungkook, who had slept off his previous night’s hangover, has been completely recuperated and is ready for another night of binge drinking. Hoseok and Haru were first at the nearest bar, darting over to grab a handful of shots to start up the night with courtesy of handing over your card to the bartender for the tab. Yoongi holds you close throughout the waves of bodies dancing and lingering around the floor, your eyes set to your phone as you text Maggie that you had arrived and hope to see her - eventually.

It wasn’t long until everyone found their inspiration to party, exhaustion aside and now jitters coursing through your body like fireworks, perhaps it was thanks to the alcohol sinking into your system. Bioluminescence lights glisten off the top of your boyfriend's hair in which you run your fingers through, reflecting off just how it did to everyones; his dark sharp-cut eyes even darker with the lighting around him. He smells of fresh aftershave, a minty aroma tingling your nose as you drive your face into the crook of his neck.

You two enjoy a slow grind to the current song, swinging your hips in sync with another’s, hands never daring to leave each other’s body. Yoongi milked his beers after the first round of shots, tried claiming that liquor before beer you’re in the clear, until Jungkook slides the two of you each a larger drink; a bright red concoction of something massively fruity with a single cherry topping above the ice.

“It’s called the Red Devil! Haru had one, I had one, now it’s your turn! It’s so good!” Jungkook yells above the music between the two of you, slinking his body against Yoongi and you due to the small areas between other bodies. Jungkook practically shoves a glass into your lips, the other in front of Yoongi’s chest, forcing the two of you to separate enough to clutch each glass.

“It smells like shit.” Yoongi grimaces, mouth turning downwards into a harsh frown.

You on the other hand, have no choice but to taste the alcoholic drink because of the clink of the glass against your teeth. It was sweet at first, an indistinctive flavor touching your tongue, causing you to inspect the red liquid as you ponder. Until you see the wide smile from Jungkook, teeth beaming towards you with a mischievous grin. That’s when you notice the tang of flavor spikes, an after taste of cinnamon practically burning its way down your esophagus.

Coughing, you push the glass back to Jungkook, eyes slightly watering from the sudden flavor. “Oh god, you know I can’t handle spicy shit. That thing is vile!”

“It’s called Red Devil for a reason!” He laughs, taking the drink back and gulping down a portion of it. At this point Jungkook is going to revisit another nasty hangover in the morning, but you can’t blame him for enjoying his vacation to the fullest.

Yoongi pushes the glass back to Jungkook, “Give it to Hobi, I'm not drinking this.”

Infuriating enough, the youngest pushes the glass back, “you give it to him. It’s about time I get my dance with Y/n anyways. You’ve been hogging her all night.”

“She’s my girlfriend!”

It’s possible that the larger crowd and uncountable ounces of alcohol that Jungkook has taken, causes him to be much more bolder, brasher than usual. He ignores the glare Yoongi sends his way, especially when Jungkook steps between the two of you; back now facing Yoongi.

You raise your eyebrows at Yoongi, shrugging into your sentence, “Just one song. I’ll come right back to you. I did promise him I'd dance with him.”

Yoongi doesn’t stay mad too long, but now both of his hands occupy glasses of an unfavorable drink as he walks away to search for Hoseok. He knows Jungkook is just going to pester them the rest of the night if he refuses to allow it and a dance isn’t harmful at all. Even when he perches himself against the wall besides Hoseok and Haru, eyes watching you stare back at him with a smile.

“You going to pick up any of these people around us?” You question Jungkook who gyrates around you to the new upbeat flow of music. It’s more cluby now, the song switches between motions of fast pace and a slow break down during the chorus, Jungkook perfectly matching the synergy of the music. You glance over at Yoongi a handful of times, shaking your head at Jungkook’s perky dance moves and laughing with the amusement that dresses his face.

“Actually, I have one coming back with us already - if that’s cool.” Jungkook swings your body around, his front now facing your back. He places his chin on your shoulder as he scans the bodies dancing around. “Long black hair, mini skirt, nine o’clock.”

“Oh, i’m impressed, you’re a fast worker.” You laugh, spinning back around in place. You push Jungkook softly against his chest, “I expect you to go dance with them instead of me.”

Jungkook pouts, hair falling short in front of his eyes from bopping his head, “but I have a vendetta with Yoongi, gotta get in my daily annoyance. Plus you’re fun to dance with.”

“You really do enjoy messing with him.”

Jungkook nods excitedly, eyes scanning the perimeter until he spots the dark haired elder leaning against the wall staring straight back at him. He takes both of your hands in his, raises them up to make kissy noises against each of your knuckles as he laughs along with you. The second Yoongi pushes himself off the wall, Jungkook snaps his head back towards you, bids you farwell and rushes himself through the crowd towards his new acquaintance.

You match Yoongi’s trudges, meeting up with him halfway before he could go any further towards Jungkook. By the look on his face you can tell he was ready to show his dongsaeng who’s boss.

“Ya know, you’re kind of cute when you get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” Yoongi rebukes.

“Are you mad?”

Looking over Yoongi’s features, his posture remained relaxed but his eyes looked like they were burning holes into the back of Jungkook’s head. “Nah. I just think Jungkook wants to play. It’s funny, honestly. Just don’t tell him that. I’ll just let him believe that i’m mad.”

His hands lock themselves around your waist, drawing you in closer to his frame. “If anything,” Yoongi latches his lips to yours, “he’s the one who’s jealous. He can’t have you.”

Soft moans escape through Yoongi’s parted mouth, lips slightly trembling with pleasure building up within his body. You hollow your mouth as much as possible, dipping your head as far down as you could take him before your gag reflex threatens to betray you. Saliva accumulated around the base of his cock, your free hand wraps around the skin you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth just to help add sensations to his entire length.

It was early, you can see the subtle light leaking through the crack of the curtains of your room; light chirping of seagulls out in the distance along with the winds banging against the chimes outside on the deck. Yoongi’s hand assists with holding your hair up as your head towers his cock, bobbing it up and down beneath the covers.

The two of you did sleep quite well once you got home, even managing to ignore the random bumps and noises coming out of Jungkook’s neighboring room - he did end up taking that random person back home.

Though you couldn’t get as drunk as you’d like between the tiredness your body has already undergone, holding Haru’s hair back from puking her stomach out in the club’s bathroom and dealing with a much more drunken Yoongi. Once you rallied up your troops you closed your tab, called a cab and headed home for the night.

“S-suck harder.” Yoongi begs you in a whisper, cock twitching inside your mouth.

You slurp, hard, on your next drag up his length. Yoongi inhales sharply, fist tightening within your hair and hips bucking up to chase your mouth. He was coming close to unfolding himself into you, visions of dressing your mouth with his white hot cum rushing through his mind.

By introducing your free hand to his balls you earn a low guttural groan from Yoongi. Massaging them gently within your palm as you tease your tongue right under the head of his dick. He chokes on his words, hand abruptly forcing your head down to take his cock deeper as he empties himself deep in your throat.

After swallowing what you can, you wipe your lips off with the back of your hand; other hand lazily tugging Yoongi’s softening cock. You smile up at him.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, voice croaky.

He was half asleep when you began to suck your boyfriend off but now you were sure he had become wide awake.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I can’t complain.” He smiles lazily, eyes closing as he embraces his post orgasm state.

Climbing up the side of his body, you card yourself into his arm as you snuggle closer with the blanket. Yoongi looks so at ease with the moment even with the disheveled bed head he’s rocking and puffy cheeks.

His hand slowly rubs against your back in a soothing pattern, fingers featherlight with each tender stroke.

“Do you want me to make you some coffee?” You offer, knowing well that Yoongi needed some substance other than alcohol to enter his system.

Yoongi shakes his head, deciding to curl himself up against you instead, “No, not right now. I just want to stay like this.”

You weren’t sure how long the two of you remained in each other's embrace, Yoongi quickly fell back asleep against you. The soft pitter-patters of feet outside your room notified you that somebody - probably Hoseok - was up and shuffling his way to the kitchen. Silently, you slip yourself out of Yoongi’s arms and throw on a pair of shorts so you weren’t walking around in just a shirt and underwear.

“Morning,” you chirp as you enter the kitchen, seeing Hoseok staring at the coffee machine as it drains itself into his awaiting mug. He grumbles his acknowledgment, clearly a bit cranky.

“Jungkook keep you up?”

“No.” Hoseok sighs, rubbing his hands over his sleep-crusted eyes, “Haru wouldn’t stop crying. She kept saying how sorry she was for throwing up and was worried that she would spend the entire day in bed with a hangover.”

You voice an ‘oh’ as you place your own mug to the coffee machine after Hoseok takes his in hand, wrapping around the island counter to sit on one of the stools.

“What time did you manage to sleep?”

“Six.”

The automatic clock hung on the kitchen wall and flashed a few minutes after eight. You clench your teeth together and you see Hoseok nod in affirmation. “Yeah.”

You pat Hoseok on the back after grabbing your fresh coffee before shagging his hair up, “Try to get a nap sometime today. I think Jungkook wanted to go to the beach again after hitting up a few shops, you’re more than welcome to come along.”

“I had already told Yoongi I'd help him with something but we’ll meet you guys at the beach!”

Before leaving to go back to your room and hand over the cup of coffee to Yoongi, you give Hoseok a confused look. He avoids your eyes, averting his own to the magazines scattered around the counter.

“You literally have twenty minutes before Y/n comes back here with Jungkook. He’s been trying to stall her as much as possible.” Hoseok warns Yoongi as he stomps his way through the sand and back to the court, hands rubbing the extra sun-screen across his skin.

“I shouldn’t have drank so much last night.” Yoongi frowns at the volleyball in his hands; he stands at one endline and waits for Hoseok to walk on the court on the other side.

Haru, who also is suffering from too much intoxication, holds her own as a setter between the two courts, ducking herself beneath the net everytime the ball gets sent over. As long as Yoongi and Hoseok maintained control of the ball they could pass it to her zone so she didn’t have to do as much work.

They play a game, not massively competitive, but enough to get warmed up before you come back for Yoongi’s surprise. He has worked incredibly hard in secrecy. Also, Hoseok proved himself as a decent volleyball coach in the making.

“Burn it off. I saw you chug a good amount of water already. Work through it and you’ll sober up.”

“I just don’t want to be a complete ass when I play with her.” The sun beams down hard from above; Yoongi’s hat, arms, and feet burn from the contact of the extra exposure. He made sure to apply his own sunscreen at least three separate times ever since he’s been outside, and as much as he loathes the heat and unbearable humidity, he still chooses to play the sport you love most.

Yoongi serves the ball enough to lollipop the ball over the net in Hoseok’s vicinity. They practice, all three of them, enough to rally the volleyball around. Yoongi still has his moments where he refuses to bend his knees for a pass, insisting that the ball was ‘too high’ for his liking. But what surprises Hoseok the most is Yoongi’s ability to jump fairly high in the sand, it must be the basketball skills that help him perform much better.

In the middle of a play the group hears a yell from afar. As they turn, they see Jungkook waving his hands in the air with a cheerful smile in the distance, bags in each hand swing aimlessly with his movements. “We’re here!” he screams across the beach, ignoring all the curious bystander’s stares.

You trail behind Jungkook, tugging the cooler on wheels behind you. Even as you walk towards the courts, your head tilts left and right like a puppy trying to understand what you think you had just seen. Did you see what you think your eyes saw? Is your boyfriend standing in the open sun, on a volleyball court, with a volleyball in his hands right now?

“What are you doing?” You question Yoongi as you step closer, plopping down the cooler under the pitched tent. You’re befuddled, looking between Haru, Hoseok and Yoongi as you try to process any ideas on what is actually going on.

“I wanted to surprise you.” Yoongi, who now seems incredibly embarrassed with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, spoke softly towards you.

You smirk with joy, touched that Yoongi has gone out of his way, out of his comfort, to surprise you with a sweet gesture. “Where did you? How? When did you learn?”

“Hobi’s been helping me a little, i’m not great, but i’m alright.”

Running over to hug your boyfriend, you giggle into his chest. “This is the cutest thing, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say ‘Heads or Tails’.”

“What?” You turn to look at Jungkook who holds a coin in his hand, prepping it to flip in the air.

“You and Yoongi verses Hobi and I.” He smiles wide, tossing the coin up high into the air. “Call it!”

In unison both Yoongi and you declare tails, and as the coin is caught and flipped in Jungkook’s hand, it reveals that very end.

“We’ll take recieve.” You chime in, excited with the way Yoongi challenges Jungkook with playful banter.

Enthusiastically, the groups plant themselves on opposite sides. Whispering small strategies and goals. You tell Yoongi to aim for Hoseok, keep it away from Jungkook, mainly because Jungkook was the stronger hitter of the two. Haru sat in the shade, choosing to be the referee and scorekeeper.

The game started off light, a few points given to another over silly mistakes and miscommunications. Yoongi shys away from the ball most of the time, thinking you should take most balls because of your experience and that you were generally better at the game. If it wasn’t for you yanking his arm to make him snap out of whatever trance he was in, he’d probably end up letting a ball drop two feet in front of him.

He was nervous after all, he wants to play well.

It wasn’t until Hoseok started scuffing up some small trash-talk through the net, more like a taunt towards Yoongi, a tactic to see if Yoongi would step up his game.

And it was working.

Especially after Hoseok discusses openly how Yoongi only does well when he’s being bossed around. A small inside joke only the two of the men understood. But what had tilted Yoongi the most was once Jungkook pitched in, adding his own form of toxicity in the mix. Which they all knew would be one thing… using you as leverage to piss Yoongi off.

“Y/n and I had so much fun earlier today. We shared some snacks together, went in a few clothing stores where Y/n tried on a few nice pieces…”

You roll your eyes, sighing as you look over to Yoongi who stares straight into Jungkook. “Here we go again,” you mutter to yourself.

The next play felt more intense, you even noticed Yoongi stepping closer towards you to pick up the ball more than normal. He wants the ball, he wants to do something with it.

Yoongi continuously aimed his hits towards Hoseok, nothing too hard, but it was noticeable how he was favoring his spikes towards his roommate. That alone motivated Jungkook to tease Yoongi some more, “Can’t hit at me now? Are you scared or something?”

The fun laughs and giggles turned into grunts and pants, both you and Yoongi work hard on your side of the court, and you love every second of the heated game that blazed along the summer heat. Jungkook manages to swing very hard, directing his spike right in front of you, but you had just enough time to stick your arm out and pass the ball up before it lands.

Yoongi rushes over, a dive with his foot, kicking the ball up high enough for you to pass the ball deep into Jungkook’s corner. The youngest scurries himself quickly across the sand, almost colliding with Hoseok in the process. He saves the ball from landing, freeballing it back over to Yoongi’s area.

“Go outside!” You yell towards Yoongi after he passes the ball high enough for you to square yourself up by the net.

The pass, the set, the entire momentum of the play came out pristine and this was the golden opportunity for Yoongi to show off his skills. Jungkook sees the chance Yoongi is about to make and runs himself up to the net and readying himself to block Yoongi’s oncoming hit as Hoseok adjusts his positioning in the back court.

Both men jump, Yoongi winding his arm back to fling it forward, snapping his wrist on top of the ball the moment his hand came in contact with it. He angles his swing, cutting the direction of the ball to the open area just inside the ten-foot line that remained uncovered.

In the process of the hit, Jungkook leaps himself up, arms raised high in an attempt to block the spike. He does manage to block the direct path of the volleyball… but with his face instead.

The volleyball smacks hard into Jungkook’s face, cutting straight down into his side of the net as Jungkook stumbles back to save the ball from completely falling, but fails as he lands on the ground. His nose quickly turns red from impact, scrunching his face as his hands cover the sore appendage.

Both you and Hoseok sputter out words, asking Jungkook if he’s alright as he locks eyes with Yoongi. Yoongi stands stunned at the incident, eyes wide and mouth gaping as Jungkook smiles back at him after making sure his nose wasn’t bleeding.

“Guess I deserve that, huh?”

Yoongi shrugs, holding his hand out for Jungkook to help lift himself up, “Yeah, probably.” The two of them laugh it off, shaking the sand from their bodies.

Before ending the game and walking back to the shade of the tent, Yoongi pulls you in for a hug, kissing your temple. “Told you he was gonna get it.”

“Yoongi!” you scold with a laugh, shaking your head in disapproval yet he knows you find it enjoyable.

#houseofddaeng #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #magicshopnet #networkbangtan #suganetwork #armysource #bangtanarmynet #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #suga #bts fanfic #one shot #kimtaehyunq #cut shot

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intheticklecloset · 4 years

Text

Pressure Points (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Happy New Year’s Eve! WE MADE IT THROUGH 2020 EVERYONE!! :D

I have officially caught up on the MHA anime (movies included!) and I am so desperately in love with this show and these characters, I can’t even explain to you how amazing discovering this new fandom has been. I’m PSYCHED for season five in just a few months! In honor of what is definitely the best anime I’ve seen this year - and to celebrate surviving the year of the devil 2020 - I thought it fitting to wrap it all up with yet another MHA tickle fic! (For the record, I counted, and this fic makes the 45th one I’ve posted on this blog in 2020. That’s a crazy number! Haha!) I hope you enjoy, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

“Give me your foot.”

The words were so unexpected that for a moment Bakugou just stared at Todoroki, whose eyes were still trained on his textbook.

“What?”

“Give me your foot,” Todoroki repeated, glancing at him. “I need to practice these pressure points.”

“Like heck you do,” Bakugou growled. “Practice on your own dang foot.”

“It’s too difficult to get the right angle on my own.”

“Right angle? What are you talking about?”

Todoroki sighed. “What’s the problem? You have to learn them, too.”

“I am not giving you my foot.”

“Bakugou.” Todoroki tilted his head, watching him with that ever-cool, nonchalant expression. “We’re really behind the others. We’re the only ones who didn’t get our provisional licenses. The only way we won’t fall further behind is to stay on top of the game academically. So again I say: give me your foot. I need to practice.”

Bakugou knew Todoroki was right, and he hated that the half-and-half hero always had to bring it up. But still he growled and trained his eyes back on his own work. “And again I say: like heck you do.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“I’m not. I just don’t want you…” Bakugou trailed off, shaking his head. “I just don’t want to.”

“Don’t want me to what? Are you afraid I’ll tickle you?”

Bakugou glared at Todoroki. “I’m not afraid of anything, idiot.”

“Then give me your foot, hothead.” Todoroki smirked. “I promise I’m just practicing pressure points. Nothing more.”

The blonde grumbled, but finally did as he was told and propped his foot up on the couch cushion between them. “Hmph. Hothead. You’re one to talk, Icy-Hot.”

For a solid few minutes Todoroki did exactly what he said he would and only focused on pressure points, gently massaging and kneading into Bakugou’s foot, watching silently as the explosive teen reluctantly relaxed and even sighed once or twice. When he was finally off his guard, Todoroki paused for a moment to scan his textbook, as if searching for something.

Bakugou had returned his own focus to the work he’d been doing, having gotten to the point where it no longer bothered him to have someone touching him in such a vulnerable area. In the next moment, however, he jolted sharply, nearly dropping his workbook from his lap as he tried – and failed – to pull his foot away from Todoroki. “Hey! Back off!”

“I’m not done yet,” the other replied in an even tone, betraying nothing. “I still have a couple more.” Again he swiped a finger from Bakugou’s heel to his toes, and again the blonde jolted.

“Agh! You said you were just doing pressure points,” Bakugou growled, trying to free himself from his classmate’s surprisingly strong grasp.

“I am.” Todoroki lifted his gaze from his textbook, eyes and features as serious as before. “Now I’m testing how much pressure is needed to actually relieve pain rather than…tickle.” He swiped again.

“That’s bullcrap and you know it!” Bakugou shouted, letting his book fall to the floor as he fought against the half-and-half hero. “Let go of me now, or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Todoroki asked calmly, scribbling all five fingers into Bakugou’s sole.

“Hrk—hehehey! Stahahahahahahap!” The giggles spilled out of him before he could stop them, his face flushing a deep red within seconds. He tried to tug his foot away but there was no point. Todoroki’s grip was firm; vicelike, even. “Stop! Icy-Hohohohohohohot!”

Todoroki reached down while Bakugou was weakened and distracted to grab his other foot and pull them both closer. Then he swung his own legs over his ankles so the blonde’s feet were pinned down and scribbled his fingers along both soles.

Bakugou shrieked, hating himself for it. He quickly covered his mouth with both hands, writhing on the couch, trying to conceal his growing mirth. “St-Stop, Tohohohohodoroki—stop it, I d-don’t—ahahahahahaha!”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t like it!” Bakugou yelled, trying desperately to pull his feet from Todoroki’s trap. “Gah! Stahahahahahahap it alreadyhehehehehe!”

Instead, Todoroki dug his fingers into Bakugou’s toes.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAGH NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Bakugou cried, tossing his head back with laughter that he couldn’t stop no matter how hard he tried to. His writhing became thrashing and he pounded the couch cushions. “FRICKING—STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Interesting,” Todoroki mused, the smallest of grins beginning to tug at his lips. “I applied more pressure, yet this still seems to tickle.”

“CUT IT OUT WIHIHIHIHIHIHITH THAT CRAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! THIHIHIHIHIS ISN’T FOR SCIEHEHEHEHEHENCE ANYMORE!!” Bakugou howled with laughter, trying to twist out of Todoroki’s grip so hard he ended up toppling off the couch, landing awkwardly on his side with his feet still trapped and tickled. “YOU’RE JUST MOHOHOHOHOHOCKING ME NOHOHOHOW!! QUIHIHIHIHIHIHIT IT!!”

“Mocking you?” Todoroki quirked a brow. “At what point did I ever imply that I think less of you for this? Tell me one thing I’ve said or done to give you that indication.”

Bakugou knew he was blushing furiously, but he couldn’t help it. This was humiliating, being stuck helplessly like this, unable to control the shrieks of laughter that burst from his lungs from the sensations Todoroki was creating. He pounded on the couch desperately, unable to do much else.

“Can’t think of anything?” Todoroki shrugged. “That’s because I’m not mocking you. I’m just helping you lighten up.”

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! TH-THAHAHAHAHAHAT’S WHAT THEHEHEHEHEHE OTHERS SAID TOO, DAHAHAHAHAHANG IT!!”

“Others?” Now Todoroki was smiling fully. “I’m not the first to tickle you?”

“SHUT UP!!” Bakugou wanted to remain defiant and angry, but the longer this went on the more he just wanted to get out of it. He started pounding the floor. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! WHAHAHAHAHAHAT DO I HAHAHAHAHVE TO DO TO GEHEHEHEHEHET YOU TO KNOHOHOHOHOCK IT OFF?!”

Todoroki finally stopped, lifting his legs so Bakugou could free himself and curl into a ball on the floor, gasping for breath. When he’d recovered somewhat, he pushed himself up into a seated position and glanced at the half-and-half hero, who was watching him silently, a small smile on his face.

“Wh-Why’d you stop?” he asked.

Todoroki’s brows shot up. “You wanted more?”

“No!” Bakugou didn’t mean for it to come out as a panicked cry, but it did, and he blushed even harder. “Of course not, idiot! Just…what were you trying to do? Why humiliate me like that? Just for fun? To prove something?”

“No.” Todoroki shrugged. “When you asked what you had to do to make me stop, that’s when I knew you really needed me to. You never beg.”

“I wasn’t begging!”

“No, and I didn’t want you to.”

Bakugou frowned, climbing back up to his seat on the couch. “You’re not making any sense, Icy-Hot.”

“I wanted you to lighten up.” Todoroki looked at him. “You and I are alike in many ways. We both take things seriously. We do our best to make it to the top. But sometimes in the process we forget we’re just people. We need to relax and take breaks just like anyone else.”

“Tch.” Bakugou reached for his fallen textbook, straightening out some of the crumpled pages. “Maybe you do. I’m fine on my own, idiot.”

“My intention truly was just to help you relax with the pressure points,” Todoroki admitted, glancing at the open page that detailed where said points were. “But then I thought about Midoriya, and how he always seems happier after he’s tickled, and I wanted to help you that way, too.” He averted his eyes. “I’m sorry if I went too far.”

Bakugou stared at his classmate, unsure what to say for a moment. He didn’t enjoy being tickled, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit lighter after what had just happened. He growled out a sigh. “I’m nothing like Deku, Icy-Hot. Get that through your head before you try something like that again.” He glared at Todoroki. “And do not breathe a word of this to anyone, you hear me? Not a word!”

Todoroki smiled softly. “Not a word,” he agreed, before adding, “But wait – who else has tickled you, Bakugou?”

Bakugou pulled his textbook up to his face and groaned.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boko no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou #kacchan #todoroki #shoto #pressure points #foot tickling #ticklish #tickle #tickling

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Warriors in Red Armor

Next | Masterlist

Chapter One

Hound I

"So, are we going to 79's tonight?" Hound asked. He had meant to be subtle about it, but the question burst out of him the moment his well-worn boots crossed the threshold of the small break space allotted to members of the Coruscant Guard.

As break spaces went, the one designated for the Coruscant Guard's clone troopers was an embarrassment. Some determined being had managed to cram a table and a handful of chairs inside, but it was a tight fit. If more than a few fully armored troopers went inside at the same time, none of them would get back out without removing some armor to clear the traffic jam. The lights flickered, the faucet leaked, the floor was always sticky, and the stuffy air held a hint of the chemicals that had been stored there years ago. Since then, the previous break space had been renovated into an office for one of the few nat-born commanding officers and this one had been created for the clone troopers.

Still, the smell of caf was stronger than the smell of chemicals most days and the light from a nearby advertisement screen lit the room so brightly that the flickering lights didn't give any of the troopers a migraine anymore. Hound always was a man who liked to see the glass as half-full. Maybe even a little more than half, if that glass was sitting under the dripping faucet.

Thire snorted at Hound's question, leaning back in his chair until gravity threatened to topple him. "Well, boys? Hound wants to know if we're going to 79's this lovely Friday evening. What do we think?"

Thorn glanced around the room, looking unamused by his brother's antics. "We think I'm the only other one here, di'kut."

"Exactly!" Thire said in triumph, obviously determined to ignore his fellow commander. "It's the weekend! Why wouldn't we go to 79's?"

"Because you've finally realized that it's a glorified zoo?" Thorn snapped, tone venomous. "79's is where civvies go to stare at clone troopers so they can feel like they're being daring. In reality, they're being irritating."

Having spoken his piece, Thorn tossed back the last of his cup of caf, always consumed as dark as his mood. Hound shuddered at the thought. Corrie Guard caf was brewed at the approximate concentration of speeder fuel and could eat through duracrete. Only a trooper who hated himself would drink it black.

Thorn always drank it black.

"So you don't want to go?" Hound asked again, sounding heartbroken.

"No, I'll go," Thorn told him. "Zoo or not, 79's still has the cheapest booze on Coruscant that doesn't use poison as a mixer."

"Well, that's the most excited I've heard Thorn get about anything for a week, at least," Thire smirked. "Commander Fox, you want in on this?"

The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, having just stepped into the break room to fill his mug with caf, shook his head. "No, I'm on duty tonight. The Clone Rights group has been cleared to march and the Chancellor wants an extra Guard presence. Stone will be stuck here as well, monitoring any new arrivals."

"Ugh," Hound said, summarizing everyone else's point of view. "Well, we'll be thinking of you both, Commander."

Fox lowered the datapad in his hand to shoot a look in Hound's direction. "Sergeant, don't you have that ARF PR stunt tomorrow at 0800?"

Hound shrugged. "Yeah, but I can do both."

"Make sure you don't miss it," Fox ordered sternly. "The last thing I need is to have to report to the Chancellor that you missed a chance to give the GAR a boost in civil opinion."

Hound saluted and Fox turned his attention to the other break room occupants. "Thorn, if you let your stubble get any longer, it'll be considered a beard and subject to facial hair regulations. Thire, sit on the chair like a normal being, would you?"

Thorn nodded and Thire grinned as he let the chair's legs slam onto the floor. Fox rolled his eyes at their antics, refilled his cup of caf, and left the break area. Hound idly wondered how many of the gray hairs appearing at the Head Commander's temples were due to the commanding officer team. Still, the Chancellor had let Fox choose his own team of COs, so there was no one to blame but himself.

"Meet at 2100?" Thire asked. "That's prime time for 79's and there'll be plenty of talent. I'll go ahead and apologize, vode. When you look this good, you automatically get your pick of the females."

Thire brushed a hand back across his hair - meticulously trimmed to maintain the subtle horizontal lines shaved into the otherwise regulation cut - and grinned at the other two. Hound and Thire rolled their eyes, but agreed anyway.

---

Kai I

"Hey, do you guys want to go to 79's tonight?" Kai asked, perched on the desk she was supposed to be sitting behind. She was always restless and neither of the other women blamed her for the odd choice of seat - even though it made inter-desk communication a bit of a pain.

Arkularia - who, for the sake of Kai's sanity, allowed the others to call her 'Ark' - was the first to respond. "79's? The clone bar?"

"Do you want to drink, dance, or find a one-night stand?" Ransom asked from behind her expansive tech setup. "Because there are better places for any of those. Closer, too."

"No, I want to go to 79's," Kai said, kicking up her chin. "And as for what I want… I want all of them. All three options, please and thank you."

"Did you just try to order a night out? Like from a menu?" Ransom asked. From the tone of her voice, Kai had managed to earn a rare smile from her boss. Of course, that was only a guess since Ransom didn't emerge from her den so Kai could verify the expression.

"No… but can you imagine how much easier that would be?" Kai asked in her own defense.

"It would take some of the fun out of it, I think," Ark said slowly.

Kai chucked a wad of flimsi at her friend and co-worker's head, cheering to herself as it connected and bounced off of Ark's white-blonde hair. "I know that, Ark! C'mon guys, do you want to come to 79's with me or not?"

"I'm out," Ransom said immediately, shutting down the projector option on her desk. She was still illuminated by the ambient light from the schematics on her datapad. The cybernetic implants in Ransom's arm gleamed in the blue glow as she dragged a hand over her shaved head. "I have to work late if we have any hope of finishing our next job on time."

"Ark?" Kai asked, not too proud to sound like she was begging.

Ark sighed, pale eyes hopeless in the face of Kai's wheedling. "Fine, I'll go along."

"Yes!"

"Ransom, are you sure you can't come, too?" Ark asked, her voice a bit desperate.

"I really do have to stay and work on this," Ransom apologized, gesturing at her assortment of datapads. "My condolences."

"We're going to a club, not facing a firing squad!" Kai admonished. "Besides, I just want to find someone fun."

"Like that last guy?" Ark asked, squinting a bit as she applied her prodigious memory to her own question. "What was his name?"

"Not sure," Kai admitted. "But he was so much fun! Great tattoos."

"So you are looking for a hookup! I knew it," Ransom crowed.

Ark frowned. "Why a clone trooper? They're never on-planet for long before they have to leave."

"Exactly," Kai said with a wink. "Love 'em and leave 'em."

"Didn't the last one stick around for a while? I thought I remembered seeing him more than a few times…" Ark pondered.

"Hardcase! His name was Hardcase," Ransom remembered. "He came by every day of his leave."

"Strange name," Ark commented.

"Strange guy," Ransom said with a shrug.

"But he was hot," Kai countered, folding a piece of flimsi to look like a tooka. At least it did in her imagination. "And so much fun. I need another someone like him."

"What happened to him?" Ark asked curiously.

Kai would have blushed if she had any shame - too bad for Coruscant that she didn't. Instead, she pouted. "He moved on with a Zeltron who works at GAR headquarters. That's the best place to meet troopers, but they don't give access to civilians unless they have official business."

"Hardcase didn't seem like the type to ghost you out of nowhere," Ransom mused.

"I… may have freaked out about him asking me to be his girlfriend," Kai admitted. "I don't want anything serious, you know? Besides, I'm the one who introduced him to the new girl. She's a sweetheart. He adores her and she's the same about him. Can't be too upset with that."

Ark and Ransom exchanged loaded glances, but Kai had no interest in a therapy session. "Right! So, Ransom, you're still out?"

"I have no interest in coming along and I have work to do here."

"Well, that was almost nice," Kai congratulated. "Ark, it's you and me. When should we go?"

Ark shrugged. "Why don't we just stop there on the way home from work?"

"Are you kidding?" Kai asked, aghast at the idea. "We aren't exactly wearing Senatorial dress, but we're still too professional for a club! No, we need to go home, change, and meet there. How long do you need?"

"I don't know… half an hour?"

"How long do you need to find an outfit that makes sense in a club setting?" Kai rephrased her question.

"Two hours," Ark corrected herself, sounding sheepish.

"That's more like it," Kai said, satisfied. Her look turned wicked as she said, "Now, let's talk about makeup…"

"Are you sure you don't need any help here, Ransom?" Ark asked their boss, her eyes widening with hidden significance.

"No, it's too late!" Kai denied. "Meet me at my apartment and I'll help you. Let's say eight."

Ark glanced back at Ransom, who gave a sympathetic shrug. Ark sighed. "Fine, eight."

---

A/N - Hello, and welcome to yet another Clone Wars-based story! I can't leave these poor guys alone. They deserve so much more than they got! So, you may have noticed that some of the characters are a bit different from the way they are normally portrayed in fan fiction. The first fic I read with the Coruscant Guard had Thire as a happy joking guy and Thorn as a serious doom-and-gloom trooper. I'm coming to realize that is not typical for fanon interpretations, but those characterizations are embedded in my mind. I hope you didn't find this too jarring!

I'm experimenting with a new Game of Thrones-style POV tracking format. Hopefully that will keep things from getting too confusing as we bounce back and forth across eight different POVs! I apologize for the short length of this chapter, but it's just a simple introduction of (most of) the characters.

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars the clone wars #star wars #star wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thorn #commander thire #sergeant hound #clone troopers deserve better #more to come #please reblog

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pitaparka · 4 years

Text

lazy river

request: hell yeah prompt list time! kissing john b in the rain for love and longing? love your content btw summary: it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a water park. jon b knows this, and wants to change that.

pairings: john b. x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: super fluffy. real cute. might rot your teeth.

a/n: requests still open! i got an AP exam this week. i also have to finish a create task i’ve had weeks to work on and haven’t, so... wish me luck. big love!

It’s just how you remember it as a child; all funnel cakes and water slides and screaming children and too hot pavement. Exactly where you want to be when summer's in full swing.

Probably the best unofficial date you’ve ever been on.

You don’t know how much money John B. had to save up in order to get you there, but the topping on the cake was his ability to score a free bus ride to and from going with a small church group. You'd never known him to be religious, but it was an eventful ride for the two of you. John B. was playing the role of full blown Christian boy, and it was so hard to hide your smiles and giggles that everyone must've thought you were his even more Christian friend. K-love plagued the speakers, and you and John B. agreed some of it wasn't bad, but most of the kids were insufferably nice, to a point where it was almost disingenuous. Standing in line with them was a pain, but as soon as you were able to, you two booked it off to the umbrellas, searching desperately for two lounge chairs. Maybe even one at this point. Anything really, until you found a small bunch of chairs left secluded by a family whose child was not having a good time. It was a perfect spot right under the umbrella allowing you to spread your towels out and leave the cooler by the chair. John B. was fast to attack the food in there; sandwiches, chips, fruits, cheese. You name it and JJ had gotten (stolen) it from somewhere for you two. “You’re gonna get sick,” you commented, as he scarfed down a sandwich. The smell of sunscreen plagues the area. You rubbed some onto your face. John B. had miraculously thought of everything except spray on sunscreen, so you were forced to either buy some from the gift shop at a ridiculously inflated price, or use the lotion. “Sick shmick. Do you want to go on some rides?” He says, wiping his dirty hands down on his towel. The towel that was supposed to wipe down his wet body. You grimaced, but then he slipped his shirt off and shimmied off his flip flops. He was so well toned and tan already. You can’t imagine him wanting to get any tanner. “Yes I do, actually. Can you get my back first?” You say, and wonder if John B. actually forgot the spray on sunscreen or opted for the lotion instead for this reason. His hands were firm on your shoulders as he applied the sunscreen, rubbing the taut muscle there and going dangerously low down your back. It sends a shiver down your spine and he can so obviously tell because he does it again to gauge your reaction. He ruins it though, by sending you off with a buddy pat on your shoulders. “Let’s do pirates plunge first,” he said, and it made you smile how excited he got. You wondered how long it’s been for him too. “No,” you argue, “we have to work our way up to that.” "Do NOT tell me you're planning on staying in the lazy river the whole time," he said, turning to where the middle aged adults who obliged their children lounged, floating leisurely under bridges and waterfalls. It made him shiver. "It's a great place to tan," you teased, and he glared at you. You smiled, and stretched upward. "You want sunscreen?" You ask, and he looks like he's about to say no, but he nods his head yes. His back is smooth under your hands, and you make sure to lather his shoulders up nicely. You hand him the bottle when you're finished, and he scoffed. "You only did half," he says. "You can do the rest," you assure, and he rolls his eyes, squirting a glob of cream onto his palm before smearing it over his chest. "This kind of half-assery won't be tolerated," he jokes, "I'm going to have to report you to the manager." "Oh please. You're the king of half-assery." He gasps as he rubs his palms down his face, leaving streaks of white there. "How dare you. You're fired." He claims, looking over to one of the smaller two-person slides. You lean over to him and rub in the white with your thumbs, cupping his face a little. He watches your face the whole time, which, you have to admit, is a little creepy. When you're done, you shove him for good measure, before taking off in the other direction. The sun beats down hot on your shoulders, and you two spend hours waiting in lines and talking and spending time together. You could see the burn on John B.'s face and expected you were going to feel the burn too later on that night. It was a blessing whenever clouds rolled through the sky, blocking out the sun for a brief period before she cleared them away. The rides were subpar, but you two didn't notice in the slightest, screaming and yelling at each other down the slides and in tubes. The two of you dodged children and concerned parents and other teenagers, bobbing and weaving in and out of lines. Dripping wet, bodies glistening in the hot sun, you two decided funnel cakes were in order. You stood in line as John B. toweled off by your seats, and he ducked under the belt to stand with you. It got him dirty looks, but he didn't notice. "When are the church kids leaving?" You pondered, stretching on your tip toes to look in front of John B., trying to catch a glimpse of any of them. "In like an hour," he says, glancing up at the big clock poised over the food shack. There was only one in the entire park, which must've been good for business. They were so hot when you got them that the powdered sugar on top was melting. But as you made your way back to your seats, you felt it. “Oh no,” you whine, the water droplets on your bare shoulder. You turn to look at John B., but his gaze is not with yours. His eyes are on the sky, the grey storm clouds rolling in above. You sigh loudly. It’s not like you’re afraid of getting wet. Of all the places to be when it rains, a water park ranks at least in the top ten. But now all the rides were going to be closed. For god knows how long. He looked back down at you, grinning, and then noted your crestfallen expression. He pouted. “Why the long face?” He said, grabbing your chin and shaking it. You jerked away from his grasp to sulk. “Our day is ruined,” you grumbled, walking down in the direction of your chairs, planted conveniently under one of the large umbrellas. He jogged to catch up to you, intertwining his hand with yours. He swings it back and forth childishly. If he could, he’d probably skip down the concrete path to your area. "We have to eat these anyway. It'll probably be done by then," he assured. Much to your dismay, it was not in fact done by then. "That bus is probably going to leave early now," you mused, checking the notification app they made all of you download before you left the bus. “No way. This day’s not over. It’s just getting started,” he said, plucking your phone from your grasp and burying it in the bag he had brought. He left the rest of the conversation to your imagination before he took off running, pulling you in tow. “Hey!” You cried out, but you couldn’t help the giggle rising out of your throat when he stumbled over his own bare feet a little. He hushed you as you caught up to him on the side of the lazy river. There was nobody in it. All the employees were at the front entrance of it, escorting people out. "Wanna do a river run?" He said, slipping down the ladder. Your eyes bulged. "They're gonna kick us out," you said, hopping in after him anyway. You two stood downstream, and waited for tubes. It only took a few seconds before John B. was passing you one, rain falling on his hair and chest. "Now it's cold," you complained, but John B. chastised you. "Stop being a baby. Hang on," he said, standing up for you to grab onto one of the handles of his tube. The lazy river in the rain was a lot more fun than a lazy river in the sunshine. It would only be a few minutes before you reached the front of the ride, where all the workers were stuck trying to collect the tubes. John B. was splashing water at you, and shaking your tube to get you to fall out. You return the favor by flipping him over near the waterfall. He came up sputtering, and in return tried to flip your tube as well, but you latched onto his neck. It was easy for him to support your weight in the water, and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist as the tubes got away from the two of you. They floated sadly down the river, under the waterfall by themselves. John B. chased them, hands supporting you, your arms wrapped around his neck. He moved slowly towards the waterfall, and threatened to throw you under it. You squealed and pushed yourself up against him as much as you could, cradling his head to your own. If you were going down, so was he. But he stopped just short. You pulled away just a bit, and he was looking at you, eyes intense, smile bright. Your heart skipped a beat and you swear you saw him move closer. You couldn't help but do the same. Until his lips were on yours, moving in sync with you, rain pelting your bodies. His hands were firm underneath you, and you knew he wouldn't let you fall. It had been so long since you realized you wanted to kiss him for the first time. You could settle for him kissing you. "I love you, you know that?" He remarked. You thought it was sweet, until he tossed you under the waterfall. You swear you could hear his laugh from under the water.

#john b x reader #john b x you #john b x y/n #john b outer banks #john b #obx #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks x reader #obx imagine #obx x reader #chase stokes #chase stokes x reader #chase stokes imagine #chase stokes obx #chase stokes x y/n #john b imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outerbanks

409 notes · View notes

ninjakasuga · 3 years

Text

Sonally Celebration, Year Three, Day Five: Fading

Sonally Celebration Week, Year 3, Day Five: Fade

Well Day Five is already upon us. Dang time flies XD. This day’s prompt had me mulling for a time, as it’s potential thematic resonance could align with the ideas I have for the final days; prompt theme. Outside of episode continuity (if I’m not deciding on a completely unrelated one shot like one episode from last year), I usually avoid theme overlaps unless they can make for a good two-parter, so I wanted Fade to be different from Rest. What am I talking about? Well, you’ll all see on day eight. ^_^

Day Five: Fade.

Foreword: This takes place one-to-three-ish years after Crossroads, and a return to the more domestic slice of life.

Two sets of feet march toward the couch in the spacious ‘living room’ area, where the two bodies belonging to said feet flop down onto the sofa with matching tired sighs. Each slide an arm around the other and lean in, cheek-to-cheek. Tired, bloodshot eyes meet, as a tired voice mutters. “Kathy and J.C. tucked in bed?”

“Check.”

“Monitor set-up if they wake up from a nightmare and need consoling?”

“Check, we have one of Nicole’s new A.I. ‘kids’ watching their room. If either J.C. or Kathy wake up, or both, they’ll help them unless they ask for us.”

“Us tired as all hell?”

After a beat, both sigh and utter. “Mega check!!” Groaning as she rolled to curl against Sonic, Sally sighed again. Her body and mind woefully tired from the day. “I love our angels, but they can be so exhausting.”

Grunting in agreement, Sonic gave her a squeeze from the arm around her waist. “Doesn’t help they’re both already getting the hang of their speedy-abilities. Is it wrong I’m wishing they didn’t inherit my speed now?” He really didn’t, (his pride soared when it was clear they had his speed). However moments like these, he was considering how nice it would be for them to not have his super speed would be? Or the speed simply kicked in at puberty… or would that be worse?

“We wish it weren’t so today, but we’ll change tunes when that speed is sorely needed for them.” Muttered Sally, sharing his thoughts, but her ever-present pragmatism won out over in-the-moment whimsy. A thin smile emerged from her tired expression. “That said, I'm rather proud that they’re starting to understand that running around the palace is a no-no. Starting to, being the key word.”

That elicited a chuckle from Sonic as he smiled back and made a pleased sound as she moved her hand up his back to rub the back of his neck. He leaned against the fingers rubbing the sore area that had bothered him most of the day. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and that early maturity you had will kick in.”

“Mmm, I’m sensing a ‘but’ somewhere in there my love.” She murmured, making her own soft ‘murring’ as Sonic began to return the neck rub after moving his hand from around her waist to her neck. “Out with it Sonic.”

“Heh, got me pegged huh? Weeeell, you were mature for your age, but I don’t want our kids to be fun-kill-joys either.”

“I was a fun-kill-joy?” She raised an eyebrow, applying a bit more pressure to the spot where neck and shoulder met, causing Sonic to yelp and twinge from the application of pressure. “I call it knowing some of the stuff you wanted to do would wind us in trouble.”

“H-hey, heeeeeeeey, you had your moments of sly ideas that did just that!” He wiggled to avoid her grip, now shifting his hand back to her side, but with tickling intent as his fingers shifted and wiggled about.

Snerking, and then breaking into several laughs, Sally let go, and squirmed. “Pffft- n-no fair! T-two can play!” It was one and Sally sat up and pounced her husband, pinning him to the couch and letting her fingers fly over his body. Grinning widely, as tiredness gave way to playful-energy, Sally enjoyed herself thoroughly as she watched Sonic, her beloved, start to wiggle and laugh from her efforts.

“Hahaha, ahaha! C-crap Sal, you wanna throw d-d-down don’t you?” His emerald eyes gleam as the same burst of energy giving Sally a second wind coursed through him. Wiggling his fingers, his hands moved to strike; and with his super-speed applied: naturally he was able to cover more ground, much faster. As laughter erupted from Sally and she writhed and squirmed, his glee intensified. “You were saying Sal-MMPFFH?” Sonic’s boast was cut off as Sally mashed her mouth to his. The surprise kiss threw him off, but only briefly. Letting out a low, needy moan, Sonic ceased tickling Sally and proceeded to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer as their kiss intensified.

A low, purr-like sound uttered from Sally’s throat, muffled as her lips were still thoroughly mashed against her husband’s. The squirrel-chipmunk hybrid rubbed herself against him. Ruling a kingdom, being a loving-attentive spouse, and a parent was a tall order. They made it work; but quality, private time became more of a premium. Even tired as Sally felt, the burning need to feel Sonic’s loving embrace and ‘skilled hands’ hit her like a freight train. How long had it been since they last had a moment like this? Actually feeling the urge, the need to make love? Maybe that was why, but truly who cared what the exact reason was? The moment was here, seizing it was key.

As the kiss broke, Sally’s breath hitched as Sonic’s mouth trailed down to her neck, and his hands rested on her posterior, before one hand grasped at her tail, which had been wiggling quite giddily as if to entice him. “S-Sonic, bedroom-ngh..”

“Why not here?” He murred against her neck, giving her a squeeze with both hands.

She licked his ear and nipped at the tip, whispering in a throaty voice. “I don’t want a repeat of last time; bedroom, door locked, you, me, on the bed, no clothes, ‘now’!”

Instead of his usual snappy retorts, Sonic processed her request, recalling ‘last time’ and only a big blanket prevented a truly awkward moment when one of the children woke up in the middle of the night. Hands move to scoop Sally up like the old days as he got off the sofa with her. It was a break of the rules, but he used a very-very small burst of his super-speed to zip to their room. His foot pushed the door closed, while Sally quickly hit the lock mechanism on the doorknob. A quick toss sent Sally onto the bed, and Sonic quickly joining her, both eagerly helping the other disrobe.

(Sorry folks keeping this PG-13 XD so fade to black!)

Once their bodily and spirit-rejuvenating needs were met, Sonic and Sally lay on the bed, tangled together. As they tried to catch their breath, each would out of parental-paranoia, check the monitor to the kid’s bedroom. No notifications, which meant the kids hadn’t woken up even once to go to the bathroom. A good sign they were sleeping through the night without ‘nightly accidents’ occurring. Even after a quick (for them) bout of love-making, being a parent never strayed from their minds.

Satisfied they didn’t need to redress soon, and attend to any nightly needs, the two sigh in content bliss. “It goes without saying Sal, we ‘needed’ that.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She practically purred as she nuzzled against his upper chest as she draped over him partially. “Still got it.” She smirked, trailing a finger in a circle around the circular belly-fur of her husband.

“Ha, boy howdy!” Cackled Sonic as he lifted a hand tiredly for a high-five, which Sally gladly reciprocated. “Whoever said after 30 your love-life with kids dries up is an F’ing idiot.”

“Clearly someone who didn’t have a successful romance with their marriage.” Mused Sally, before a yawn tore from her throat. Curling into Sonic’s side, and pulling the covers over them. Sally felt the siren song of sleep, and was ready to greet it. “We should sleep while we can.”

Yawning himself, Sonic slipped an arm around Sonic, planting a kiss to her forehead, he twisted his body to better meet her own as they got comfortable. “Yeah, g’night Sal, love ya.”

“Love you too Sonic, *yawn* sleep well.” As another yawn left her, Sally closed her listening to Sonic’s heart-beat, and breathing. She could tell he was already out from the sounds he made, he didn’t snore, not really or fully. His breathing just became more ‘free’ if such a word could describe it. His heartbeat also steadied, still paced but clearly at ease. Such a rhythm helped her slowly fade from consciousness and soon, the warm embrace of sleep took Sally. Leaving only the sounds of both Sonic and her own breathing filling the darkness of their bedroom.

#boundforfreedom #Sally Acorn #Sonic the Hedgehog #Archie-Sonic Continuiity #Pre-SGW Sonic #fanart #romance #sonally #sonsal

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riasei · 4 years

Text

Forever

pairing: takami keigo x fem! reader

warnings: slight angst, cursing

word count: 6,015

note: It has been one (1) day, and I am already back. however, I apologize to my sinners, but there is nothing nsfw about this. I am the biggest simp for keigo and when this idea popped in my head I just had to write it out. Fun fact: my psych class got a peek of this because I accidentally closed tabs while sharing my screen during a zoom conference :) I’ve never wanted to die more.

summary: keigo begins acting weird after the two of you attend a friend’s wedding.

°✩❇✩°

The aroma of soft citrus fills the air as you carefully spray some of your perfume at the juncture of your neck. With a delicate whiff, you take in the scent, enjoying the smell of fresh lemon and the tiniest hint of vanilla. Strong arms come up behind you, wrapping around your waist, pressing your back flush against a lean chest.

With a giggle, you paw at the arms. “Keigo, you’re going to wrinkle my dress!” You shout, attempting to pry his figure away from you.

Your stubborn lover nuzzles his face into your neck, his scruff slightly tickling you. “But you smell so fucking good,” He groans. You can feel his teasing grin against your soft skin, his hot breath fanning against you.

“If you keep this up, we’re going to be late.” You warn, a pout etching its way onto your face.

The man breathes in your scent deeply before pulling away from you, his arms giving you one last squeeze to your waist. In the vanity mirror, you can see Keigo smiling at you with complete adoration, his brilliant eyes drinking you in. Your formal dress is your favorite color, and it complements your skin tone beautifully. The outfit doesn’t necessarily hug your figure, but it accentuates you in the best way possible. To Keigo, you look absolutely ethereal.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You hum, picking up a tube of lip gloss and looking into the mirror as you carefully apply the product.

The blonde chuckles, his playful expression never faltering. “Trust me, I have enough pictures of you to last a lifetime. But, no picture could ever do you justice.” He murmurs.

Delicate pink blossoms on your cheeks, rivaling the blush you applied earlier. “You have the audacity to say that to me while you’re standing there looking like that?”

Keigo tilts his head, bringing his hand up to adjust his suffocating tie, the fabric the same bright vermillion as his wings. His earrings glint in the fluorescents lights of your vanity. “I’m glad you like it, Doll, but this shit is so uncomfortable.” He groans, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

You smile sympathetically, pressing you’re your lips together to blend the gloss on your lips. “It’s only for a few hours, after that, I promise you won’t be in that suit for much longer.” You suggest, raising a brow.

The hero hums, placing a sweet kiss to your temple. “Remind me why we can’t just not show up and instead skip to the good part?”

“Because our friends are getting married and they want us to be there, that’s why.” You deadpan, flicking your boyfriend’s forehead.

He yelps dramatically, pulling away from you and covering his forehead. “Seriously,” You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue. “You call yourself a Pro-Hero?”

Keigo begins to pout, preparing to launch into one of his tangents. However, before he’s able to talk your ear off, his phone begins to ring. He fishes it out of his pocket, staring in surprise at the screen. “Oh! It’s the groom himself.”

The blonde answers the phone cheerily. “Kamui, having second thoughts? If you feel like bolting, I can totally drive the getaway car.”

You nearly facepalm at Keigo’s idiotic greeting but resist the urge in fear of smudging the makeup that took you hours to perfect. Silently, you work on touching-up your hair while your boyfriend speaks on the phone, his tone swiftly changing.

“Alright, calm down. Just talk to me, what’s going on?” He reassures, wings ruffling slightly as he begins to pace around the room.

The room is silent on Keigo’s end for a few moments before Keigo begins yelling into his phone. “Listen, I’m getting pissed off listening to your doubts. You’re really acting like this on the day of your fucking wedding? You should’ve thought of this shit before proposing, dumbass.” He snarls, eyes narrowing.

You immediately turn around, shooting your boyfriend a menacing glare. Being nervous is perfectly normal, especially on such an important day like this. Only when Keigo catches your downcast eyes does he seem to shrink into himself, barely noticing just how harsh his words were.

“Ah, Kamui, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, don’t listen to a word I just said.” The blonde frantically apologizes, eyes darting around the room.

More silence passes before Keigo speaks once more. “Listen, being anxious is normal, I’m sorry for dismissing you. But I don’t think you have to worry. You’ve told me countless times just how much you love this woman. She’s the one for you.” He soothes, voice starkly different from just moments before.

After several moments, Keigo bids a goodbye before hanging up his phone. He avoids your eyes as you make your way across the room, stalking over to his timid form. “What the hell was that about?” You wonder, poking a finger into his chest.

Keigo shifts uncomfortably under your piercing gaze. “I don’t really know,” He mutters, ashamed. “I guess his doubts just didn’t make much sense to me.”

Your mouth twists into an unfriendly scowl. “I would be just as nervous as him on my wedding day!” You declare confidently. The way Keigo stiffens at the mention of marriage doesn’t go unnoticed by your watchful eye. “He has every right to be anxious. He’s promising his life to someone else today. That’s a huge deal. Cut him some slack, okay?”

You reach a hand up, cupping your lover’s cheek in your hand. He instantly leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut at the contact. He nods his head meagerly at your request, eyes opening when you press a small kiss to his cheek. Keigo gazes down at you with conflicted eyes, a tsunami of emotions washing over him all at once.

“Is everything alright, Kei?” You question, snapping the man’s attention to you.

His first instinct is to muster up a toothy smile and say some corny joke before musing your hair, confirming that everything is fine. But he doesn’t. You know him too damn well to fall victim to such a lie. Instead, the blonde hangs his head, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know…” He trails off.

Eyes softening, you wrap your arms around his waist, enveloping the man in a comforting embrace. The thought of wrinkling your dress doesn’t even cross your mind. “Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, stroking calming circles at the base of his wings.

“Not right now, Birdie.” He sighs, savoring your touch.

The way you’re so patient with him, never forcing him to talk. The way you are so quickly able to make him feel comforted and loved. The two of you have been together for years, and yet your affection and love never ceases to surprise him. How could someone as perfect as you love a bastard such as himself?

Keigo is the first to pull away, helping you straighten your dress as he separates from you. “Well, if you ever feel like talking about it, I’ll be right here, okay?”

The blonde presses an affectionate kiss at the top of your head. “Okay.”

~~~

Loud cheers erupt through the reception as Keigo makes his way up to Endeavor, asking him for a dance. You desperately wish you had pulled out your phone in time to capture the No. 1 hero’s expression when your boyfriend so seriously extended his hand to him. The poor fiery man looked absolutely horrified and disgusted all at once.

In the end, the two men ended up sharing a very awkward and hilarious dance due to the immense pressure the crowd was putting on Endeavor to accept. As soon as Endeavor took Keigo’s hand, Present Mic, the resident DJ, immediately switched the song to something intimate and slow, which only added to the mortification of the Todoroki.

The two men sway together, awkwardly stepping on one another’s feet. Your boyfriend does his absolute best to annoy the living hell out of his fellow hero, and you have a feeling that the media is going to have a field day with this. Towards the end of the song, Keigo being Keigo, has to go out with a bang. He uses his feathers to lift up Endeavor into the sky before dropping the man, sending him plummeting down to the floor only to be caught in your boyfriend’s arms.

Laughter explodes, no guest is able to contain themselves at the sight of the No. 1 hero being carried bridal style in the arms of the winged-hero Hawks. You have no doubt that someone managed to take a video of the moment, which will most definitely end up on tomorrow’s news.

Endeavor is seething, escaping your boyfriend’s clutches as fast as possible. He gives a loud roar, screaming at Keigo, who dons a shit-eating grin. The red-haired man storms away, heading towards the bar for a much-needed drink.

You can’t contain your giggles as Keigo walks back over to you, slinging an arm around your waist. “Do I have anything to worry about?” You laugh, eyeing the blonde through your peripheral.

His smile widens. “I don’t know… Enji does have quite the ass.”

Playfully, you slap the hero’s arm before leaning up to kiss him. The two of you break away laughing, eyes gleaming under the twinkle lights decorating the venue.

Someone clears their throat, and you look towards the front of the area to see Present Mic speaking into the microphone. “After that beautiful display… it is now time for the bouquet toss! Unmarried ladies, gather round to see just who is going to be getting hitched next!”

You turn, pressing a sweet kiss to Keigo’s jaw before slithering out of his grasp. “That’s my cue,”

The blonde gulps, and his eyes drift to lock onto anything but you. He shifts in his spot a takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, nibbling slightly. You quirk your head and begin to walk back to him, preparing to ask what’s wrong. But, before you have the chance, you’re being whisked away by an eager Mt. Lady.

A small crowd of women gathers together in the middle of the dancefloor, all ready to participate in the bouquet toss. Kamui’s newlywed wife smiles at everyone before turning around, her dress swishing behind her gracefully. With a small count off, the woman throws the bundle of flowers behind her, several poorly wrapped daises flying onto the floor.

Several women dive for the flowers, some going as far as to even push others around. You halfheartedly walk forward, hands outstretched. Just as you’re about to retract your hands, the soaring flowers begin their descent right into your grasp. The sharp thorn of a rose pricks your thumb, but the shock of catching the flowers outweighs the pulsating pain.

A few people gasp, and others cheer when they see you’ve got the bouquet. Some of the women who ended up diving desperately for the flowers groan, offering meaningless congratulations. You giggle at the flowers, searching the crowd for Keigo’s expression.

You find him in the same spot where you left him, expect, his expression isn’t much of what you thought it would be. His eyes are wide, and his crimson wings twitch slightly. From that place you stand, you can see the blonde gulp, his eyes trained on his polished dress shoes. All eyes are trained on the two of you, considering it is widely known that you two have been together for quite some time.

Numerous men go up to your boyfriend and clap him on the shoulder, teasing him by saying he needs to start preparing to propose, alluding to the superstitions behind the bouquet toss. It is widely thought by many that the woman who catches the bride’s bouquet will be the next one to get married. While you don’t necessarily believe this, you can’t help but feel hurt by Keigo’s obvious discomfort. Is the thought of marrying you that repulsive?

Gingerly, you walk over to the blonde, hiding the bouquet at your side. He does his best to smile at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with visible effort. His mouth opens to make a smart comment, but all he can do is stare at you, eyes drifting to the flowers being held tightly in your grasp.

Kamui, the groom from today, walks up to the two of you, not picking up on the palpable tension. He swings an arm around Keigo’s neck and brings the man into a headlock, rubbing a fist against his head. “Look at you! Am I going to need to yell at you like you did to me on your wedding day, Hawks?” He chuckles, eyes glinting with mischief.

Keigo pales. “Uh, I don’t think there will be a need for that.” The blonde manages to choke out.

“Are you sure? Because believe me, I have a lot to say to you.” The groom teases, finally releasing your lover.

The winged man takes a moment to compose himself, readjusting his tie and straightening out his suit jacket. With one final punch to the shoulder, Kamui leaves to mingle with his new in-laws.

You toss the bouquet on the table you and Keigo had been assigned to sit. “Can you believe that?” You wryly laugh. “Some people actually believe we’re gonna get married soon just because I caught those flowers.”

Keigo quirks a brow at you, noticing how off your tone seems. He takes a breath, exhaling deeply before reaching for your hand. Your finger interlace with his, your smooth and delicate hands molding perfectly against his worn and rough ones. Keigo squeezes his hand around yours, instantly providing you with the comfort you didn’t know you needed.

He murmurs your name softly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Keigo.”

~~~

Drops of water trail down from your hair, wetting your shirt and causing the cotton fabric to stick to you uncomfortably. With a groan, you get up and head towards your shared bedroom with Keigo in search of something dry to change into. You’d neglected to dry your hair after showering, and you are now very much regretting that decision.

In the corner of the room lies a stack of laundry that neither of you has worked up the motivation to put away. Languidly, you throw off your shirt and look for another one. In the pile of clothes, there are none of your items, and with one quick glance in the hamper, you realize that you have exhausted your usual sleepwear.

Shrugging, you reach for one of Keigo’s casual shirts and throw it over your form. It’s a plain black tee with a small white design near the breast. It hangs lowly on you, the sleeves slightly too big for your form.

You walk over lazily to flop onto the bed, snuggling under the plush duvet. You whip out your phone and begin to scroll randomly through social media. Meanwhile, your boyfriend is still showering. Typically, the two of you would shower together, but for some odd reason, this time Keigo decided he would conveniently be busy while you were washing up.

An article pops up on your feed, its title relating to Kamui’s wedding. The media sure does work fast, considering the wedding only ended a few hours ago.

Bored, you tap the article with your thumb. As the webpage buffers, the water shuts off in the bathroom, signaling that your boyfriend should be done.

Skimming through the article, you find that it is quite detailed. There must have been someone from the news there, despite the fact that Kamui and his wife were adamant only close friends and family attend.

The article talks about the beautiful ceremony, noting how the groom ended up sobbing while reading his vows. It, of course, also mentions Keigo’s dance with Endeavor, including a video of it taken from someone’s social media. You giggle at the sight, the memory fresh in your mind.

Behind you, Keigo drops into bed, snuggling up to your back. He rests his head in the crook of your shoulder and rests his hands on your waist, looking at your phone with you. Pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder where his big t-shirt had fallen from your form, the hero laughs. He sees the video of him and Endeavor playing and sighs contentedly.

As you keep reading through the editorial, now with Keigo reading with you, your breath nearly hitches when you come up to the next section of the article. A huge picture of you holding a bundle of flowers fills the screen. Behind you, Keigo shifts lightly.

Thumb swiping along the screen, you read the text under the unnecessarily huge photo.

UPCOMING HERO WEDDING?

This evening, at the wedding of Pro-Hero Kamui Woods, talks of another upcoming hero wedding have begun. Number 2 Hero Hawks has been in a longtime relationship with his girlfriend for several years, and tonight she was pictured catching the bride’s bouquet, which according to popular superstitions, means the couple will soon be married.

According to inside sources, the couple seemed ecstatic. While there are no videos available, some guests report that our beloved winged-hero expressed great joy at the sight of seeing his partner catching the flowers.

The couple has been together publicly for nearly 4 years now, but some suspect they were together for much longer before actually announcing their relationship. These two love birds have been dating even longer than Kamui and his own bride, which makes some think that a wedding is long overdue. An anonymous source we interviewed after the wedding said Hawks definitely agrees! According to them, Hawks has been on the hunt for a ring for a few months.

Stay tuned and consider subscribing to our newsletter for the best Pro-Hero news.

You snort unattractively after finishing the article. “What the fuck is this supposed to be?”

Keigo doesn’t respond, his grip on your waist faltering. You shut off your phone, placing it on the bed. Turning around, you face the blonde. “Is everything all right?”

He grits his teeth before choking back a grimace. “Yeah, of course. I just hate seeing the media make up shit about us.” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

Despite not fully believing the response, you accept it. “Me too,” You roll your eyes. “I can’t imagine how it must be for you, always being in the media’s eyes. I swear, I’d go insane.”

The blonde huffs, his face relaxing, grateful that you aren’t pushing him. “Yeah, it fucking sucks, but I think I’ve gotten used to it over the years. But trust me, I did want to go insane at first.”

You nod your head, stifling a yawn. Keigo smiles at you and reaches out a hand to stroke your hair. “You should go to sleep, Doll.”

You sigh at the soothing feeling of Keigo’s fingers massaging into your scalp. “So should you,”

Pursing his lips, the hero turns his head away. “I would love to, but I have a report I need to finish.” He explains, sitting up in bed.

With a groan, you take the corner of his shirt in your weak fist. “Don’t you always have someone at your agency do that for you? Just come to bed with me.” You whine.

“What are you talking about,” He teases. “I’m an independent man. I always do my own work.”

You hum, eyelids drooping. “Yeah, sure you do.”

Keigo gets up from the bed and comes around to your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, Birdie.”

Moments later, you slip into a dreamless sleep. Before Keigo can even exit the room, he turns around to look you over, seeing your lips parted with soft breaths and eyes closed shut. He smiles down at you softly before heading into the living room to work on his report.

When you awake the next morning, your boyfriend is already gone at work. There’s a dent in the bed next to you, so you have the comfort of knowing that he didn’t stay up all night, but it makes you uneasy that he left so early. Typically, Keigo will wait for you to wake up before heading into work, and if he’s forced to go in early, he will always send you an explanatory text message.

Except, this morning, you wake up and he’s gone with no message. You don’t want to feel paranoid, especially since this is the first time Keigo has done this, but you can’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Around his break, you shoot your boyfriend a simple message, asking if he’s doing alright. For a few minutes, he simply just reads your text message. It takes a while before he responds with a confirmation that he’s doing just fine, along with a simple apology for not be able to greet you in the morning.

Quickly, you send back a message telling him it’s no problem. Feelings of guilt start to creep up on you as you wonder why you’d been so worried. It’s not like you don’t trust Keigo, but he was acting quite strangely yesterday. Was he mad at you? Is that why he left early?

You shake your head, ridding yourself of your anxious thoughts. No, your boyfriend wouldn’t do that. At the beginning of your relationship, maybe he would’ve, but over the years, you two have learned to communicate seamlessly with each other. If he was upset, he would tell you, He always does, and this time is no different.

Later in the day, you order some food and wait for Keigo to come home. He’s usually a latecomer, considering his job is more demanding than most. At first, you aren’t worried when your boyfriend isn’t home by 7:00. Although that is when he usually arrives, you remain unfazed. It’s quite likely that he just got stuck at the agency.

However, when it reaches 11:00, you start to twitch. Every few minutes, you open your phone to check for new messages, and your leg begins to bounce with anxiety as time continues to pass. Out of genuine concern, you send Keigo another message asking if he’s okay.

Your phone shows that he never even reads it. You then leave a phone call, followed by a very worried voicemail. Did something happen to him? Did he have an encounter with a particularly nasty villain? Just as you’re about to call the front desk of Keigo’s agency, the lock on your front door clicks.

In the blonde walks, his hair in disarray, no doubt from flying. You breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Upon seeing you up, Keigo’s eyes fly open. It is nearly midnight, and you’re usually asleep by now. He rushes towards you.

“Doll, what are you still doing up?” He asks, pressing a hand to your cheek.

“I was worried, you never stay this late without texting me. I thought, I thought that something had happened.” You explain, words slurring together with the overwhelming need for sleep.

Keigo curses himself. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m fine, baby, I swear.”

You smile, eyes drooping. “Good, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened.” You managed to mumble, barely comprehensible.

The hero picks you up in his arms and holds you close to his chest as he walks to the bedroom. Carefully he places you in bed, tucking you snuggly under the covers and kissing you goodnight.

When you wake up the next morning, Keigo is gone once more. Although, this time, he’s texted you like he usually does.

This time, when he isn’t home by 10:00, you opt to go to bed without him. Faintly, you remember waking up to him coming home in the early morning, only for him to lull you back to sleep with his soothing voice.

For weeks, it’s the same thing all over again.

Keigo leaves to work before you wake up, stays late at work, and comes home after you’ve gone to sleep. The cycle is brutal, and every time you try to confront your lover about it, he skillfully avoids the question.

Unpleasant thoughts soon invade your mind, plaguing you every second of the day. Is he actually mad at you? Are you not enough anymore? Did Keigo find someone else? At night, you can’t help the tears that leak onto the mattress as you sob, wondering just what you did wrong. There must be a reason for his obscure behavior, and the only connection your brain can make is that you are somehow at fault.

You endure several weeks of avoidance before you work up the courage to confront Keigo.

Instead of going to sleep at your regular time, you stay up, waiting for him in the lounge. A blanket is wrapped tightly around you, comforting you as you wait for your boyfriend.

However, you can’t help but fall asleep as it becomes late. You spent so much energy worrying and stressing over confronting Keigo that you wore yourself out mentally.

Hours later, you awake in bed. It isn’t the time you usually wake up, far from it. The bright light of your phone nearly blinds you as you pick it up to check the time. 3:00am.

Looking next to you, Keigo isn’t in bed. There isn’t even a sign that he tried to rest, the sheets still undisturbed.

Tears threaten to fall from your watering eyes, but before you can begin to cry, you hear a noise coming from the kitchen. Gingerly, you walk out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep away from your bloodshot eyes. Sitting at the kitchen island is Keigo, in his hand an empty glass. Next to him sits a bottle of whiskey.

Immediately, Keigo looks up, having heard your light footsteps. His eyes widen at the sight of you awake at such an ungodly hour.

You sigh at him, taking the seat next to him. You snatch the glass from his hand and pour yourself a drink, downing it in one go. If you’re going to talk to him right now, you’re going to need the liquid courage.

“What’re you doing up?” He croaks out, watching as you gulp down the alcohol.

You laugh dryly. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Uncomfortable silence envelops the two of you.

It’s been weeks since the two of you have seen each other properly and had a decent conversation. Most of your interactions, as of late, have been dull and forced.

Next to you, the blonde shifts in his seat, his wings shuddering slightly. You purse your lips. Is he really that uncomfortable just being around you? The thought makes you want to scream. What the hell happened to the two of you? Where did everything go so unbelievably wrong?

Choking on a sob, you lay the glass down on the table and abruptly rise from your seat. You exit the kitchen and head to the lounge, plopping down onto the couch and burying your hands in your face.

The legs of Keigo’s stool scrape the ground as he pushes back his seat, rising to chase after you. Instantly, he’s at your side, placing a hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circle into your exposed skin. You hate how much you nearly tremble at his touch after being denied of it for so long.

Tears stream down your face, rolling down to your chin and staining your nightshirt.

The blonde whispers your name softly. “Hey, what’s wrong,”

You look at him miserably, and immediately Keigo feels bad for asking. He absolutely knows what’s wrong, and he clenches the fist that rests at his side. Of course, he fucking knows why you’re crying. He knows because he’s the reason why.

“Keigo, I-“ You sob, taking a moment to wipe away your tears. “Did I do something wrong?”

Keigo’s heart drops, his own eyes beginning to water. Before he can even begin to express how wrong you are, you continue to talk.

“Do I not make you happy anymore?” You weep, voice breaking. “Is there someone else?”

The hero’s eyes immediately widen, and he grabs your hands, clasping them between his own. “No!” He nearly shouts.

The volume of Keigo’s voice stuns you. “I would never do something like that to you, please, believe me.” He begs, desperation lacing his voice.

You swallow heavily. “Then what is going on, Keigo? You can’t keep me in the dark anymore! I’m sorry, but I need to fucking know.”

Instantly, the blonde’s heart shatters to pieces. For a moment, he can’t even respond to you. The only thing he can manage to squeeze out is a broken, “I love you, so much.”

“You certainly have a way of showing it, then.” You snap back, eyes sharp.

“You’re the love of my life. I love you so much that sometimes it fucking hurts,” He cries, hot tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

The pure desperation and despair lining his voice is heartbreaking. You meet your boyfriend’s eyes to see that he is now crying just as much as you.

Keigo takes a deep breath, trying his best to compose himself. “You are so amazing that sometimes I can’t even believe you exist. You deserve the world and so much more… and I’m afraid that I can’t give that to you. I’m afraid that I can’t give you what you want.”

You shake your head, peering up at the broken man in front of you. “Keigo, what are you talking about? You, you give me more than I could ever ask for, more than I deserve.”

Biting his lip, Keigo turns his head away. “I want to be with you forever. I want to spend the rest of my damned life with you.” He responds firmly, turning back to look you straight in the eyes.

Color flushes to your face, and your heart skips a beat at his declaration.

“But… I can’t marry you.”

His words hit you like a physical blow. They cut deep into you, tearing you up from the inside out.

“What?” Is all you can manage to ask, eyes searching his for any sort of answer.

Keigo takes a hand to run it through his hair. “It’s not just you, I can’t marry anyone. I just fucking can’t, okay? And I’m so fucking sorry that I made you so miserable by avoiding you, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving me when you found out that I can’t get married.” He admits.

Your breathing starts to slow, as do your tears. “Keigo, what do you mean you can’t get married?”

A loud sob echoes off the walls as your boyfriend folds in on himself. He trembles against you, and you rush to wrap an arm around him. “I just can’t… there’s too much that can go wrong, and the thought of it is more terrifying than any villain I’ve ever faced.”

Tenderly, you brush a strand of blonde hair behind his hair. Shakily, Keigo continues. “My parents were ruthless drunks. They had the most dysfunctional relationship in the goddamn world, and it messed me the fuck up. As a kid, it was so damn confusing to see two people who claimed they loved each other fight and hurt each other, then to have them team up to hurt me.” He trembles, clutching onto you like a lifeline.

“Then, when my amazing parents basically sold me off to the government, I was often cared for by this other family. They were just as bad as my actual parents, if not worse. They bonded over making me miserable, hurting me helped them grow closer. It was fucking disgusting.”

You’ve heard snippets of these stories before, but Keigo would always stop himself before talking about his parents. Now, you understand why. Tears begin to fall from your eyes once more at the thought of the man you love so much being hurt by the people who were supposed to protect him.

“Not to mention, if we were to ever get married, I could never guarantee your safety. The Hero Commission hates our relationship, remember how they threatened you when we started dating? Imagine what they would do if we were to get married…” He trails off, choking back a lump in his throat.

As Keigo takes a few moments to compose himself, you bring your hand up to wipe away his tears, cupping his cheek and pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his face. This action only seems to break him even more, as your boyfriend begins to whimper, pulling away from you.

He cries out your name in sorrow. “I’m so sorry I avoided you. I just, I didn’t know what I’d do if you left me when you found out.”

You still at his words. “Keigo, I would never leave you, not over something like this.” You explain, stunned as to why he thought you would do so.

“But, at Kamui’s wedding, you seemed so excited when you caught the bouquet, and you even talked about getting married one day.” He recalls, eyes puffy and cheeks streaked with lines of salt.

You take your lip into your mouth. “Yes, I did all of those things. But they don’t matter anymore. Not to me.”

The blonde jerks away from you. “Don’t do that! Don’t you dare sacrifice your happiness and the things you want just for me.” He stresses.

“That’s not what I’m doing at all,” You try to clarify, reaching out to the man again.

Keigo avoids your touch. “Yes, you are. You just said you’ve thought about marriage and now you’re saying it doesn’t matter? Please, save me the heartache and don’t lie.”

Frustration races through your veins at the thought that Keigo thinks you’re lying. “Okay, yes, I have thought about marriage. When I was younger, I used to imagine my wedding. In middle school, I had a Pinterest board for my dream wedding. I admit it!” You raise your voice slightly.

Keigo shrinks back at your tone and words. He almost begins to prepare for the impending, ‘this isn’t going to work out,’ but it never comes.

Instead, you force the blonde to look at you as you continue to speak. “But, even though I did all of that, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. Do you want to know why?” You ask fervently. Keigo nods slowly in response.

“It doesn’t matter anymore because I am with you. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t imagined us getting married, but now that I know it’s not what you want, I don’t care.”

Confusion flashes over your boyfriend’s face, and you recognize it immediately. “What do you mean?”

You smile softly. “I mean that as long as I’m with you, I don’t care what the hell we are. You are the love of my life, and I also want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t care if we spend our relationship together married or not, because as long as we are together, it doesn’t matter.”

The hero stills at your words, slowly drinking them in.

“It’s you that I want, not a wedding. I’m perfectly fine being your girlfriend for the rest of our lives as long as you and I are together.” You continue breathily, eyes searching for Keigo’s for any sort of reaction.

A few moments pass as Keigo fully digests what you’ve said. His silence nearly scares you, but all of your worries are washed away when he frantically grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss full of love and fervor.

When Keigo pulls away, he leans his forehead against your, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you. I love you so fucking much.”

You breathe out a laugh, closing your eyes. “I want to be yours, Keigo. Forever.”

The blonde chuckles against your lips, going in for a chaste kiss. “Forever doesn’t sound too bad.”

#hawks #pro hero hawks #takami keigo #bnha #mha #keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #x reader #my hero academia #boke no hero academia #hawks imagine #angst

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crumburoo · 4 years

Text

It came in 3 unassuming moments in his life. If asked, Pro hero Ground Zero will deny the possibility of a guardian angel until his dying breath, but the 3 letters he so carefully stored away in a shoebox inside his cabinet beg to differ.

The first letter he received was way back in middle school. It came the morning their homeroom teacher was due to discuss their selection for high school choices. Katsuki woke up as usual, had breakfast with his dad and his usual screaming match with his mom. After his bath, he went upstairs to prepare for the day. There, sitting unassuming in his desk, was a letter addressed to him. A girl did give him a letter yesterday. Probably another confession letter, he thought smugly, but then he remembered that he exploded that thing yesterday, causing the girl to cry and run away from him. Curiosity now piqued, he opens the letter and on it were written the words "Don't be an ass. Don't let them tell him that he can't make it."

"The fuck!?" was Katsuki's first thought, but he was quickly taken out of it when his mom yelled for him to hurry up, otherwise he will be late. Tossing the letter inside his drawer, he quickly gets himself ready for school. "That shit can wait" he mutters to himself.

In school and to no one's surprise, Izuku raises his hand and says he plans on applying to UA as well. Immediately, his classmates start snickering and makes fun of the "quirkless wonder." Katsuki used to bully Izuku in the past, and still does on occasion, but him taunting Izuku has since lost it's appeal. He doesn't start them anymore, but when prompted, he always gives out a little insult here and there.

Izuku stammers and nearly shakes, but he doesn't back down even when his homeroom teacher tells him to select a more "realistic" school of choice. It was then that Katsuki remembered the mysterious letter he received that morning. "Don't be an ass" the words kept repeating itself in his head.

-- "atsuki, what do you think!?" One of his classmates bumps his shoulder, likely trying to get him to make fun of Izuku. Izuku, who was crying silently but hasn't made a move to concede his dream of going to U.A. Izuku, who used to be his childhood bestfriend. Izuku, who was since diagnosed quirkless and has since been the subject of ridicule at his school.

In a strange mix of pity and reluctant awe, Katsuki opened his mouth and said "Tsk, leave the loser alone. If he wants to get killed that badly, then let him apply for U.A. As if he'll get in anyway." Izuku looks at him slackjawed, but as an impromptu leader within the classroom, all of his classmates decide to drop the subject.

After school, Katsuki goes straight home and takes a nap. When dinner time came, his mom casually mentions that she and her friend, Midoriya Inko will meet tomorrow night for some spa date. Katsuki just dismisses his mom's rant, but then Mitsuki casually says " Oi brat, Izu-chan called too, says he wants to say thank you. I didn't wake you up cause I know you'll be pissy. The hell did you do?"

"I didn't do shit, old hag! He said thank you to me, why are you assuming I did something wrong!?"

"Because you're you" is his mom's retort. After dinner, Katsuki locks himself in his room and thought back on Izuku's phone call, getting a weird sense of accomplishment all the while.

The second letter came during his 2nd year as a high school student. Katsuki and Izuku both got into U.A. It was a surprise to everyone when Izuku somehow passed the entrance exam. Still quirkless, Izuku did poorly on the physical part of the exam, but aced the written part, barely scraping enough points to get into the hero support courses. Katsuki and Izuku have since developed a tentative sort of understanding regarding their "friendship." If asked, yes they knew each other, but other than that, they never sought each other out. It was a weird thing, being apathetic to the existance of your once childhood bestfriend, but Katsuki and Izuku make it work. Even though Katsuki hears Izuku's name in passing, he never seeks out the nerd.

At U.A., Izuku's penchant for anything hero-related was considered endearing and not a total nerd-alert, so much so that Izuku has grown comfortable in his own skin. Before long, he started having friends of his own. Izuku has long since accepted the fact that he has no quirk, but still wants to do work in the pro hero circuit, so he decided to enroll in the hero support program at U.A.

During their second year, Katsuki's homeroom teacher mentioned that in preparation for their future pro hero careers, they need to get acquinted with other works related to their chosen field, which means that tomorrow, they will be working with the hero support students to work on possible support items they can use.

Katsuki trudges to his room at Heights Alliance and decides to do his homework before hitting the gym. There, stuck between his math and hero history notebooks, was a letter with his name on it. Immediately remembering the note he got in middle school, Katsuki hurriedly opens the letter and reads it. It was a lot longer than the first, with notes on always being careful and not being complacent about his own goals. What caught his attention though, was the footnote. Written in red ink were the words "it's okay to be confused at times. You're still young, so you got time to figure it out."

Katsuki hurriedly calls his homeroom teacher and asks permission to leave the dorm and go home for the weekend. Aizawa doesn't see any harm in it, and quickly agrees (if only to get Katsuki off the phone).

Morning comes and Katsuki is bored out of his skull. When Aizawa-sensei faced the class and started introducing the support course students, Katsuki was casually listening but felt himself bummed when Izuku wasn't with the class. Perhaps he was doing this shit with class 2-B, Katsuki wasn't sure. "Well, I can just make fun of Deku's scrawny little ass next time", Katsuki thinks. Aizawa then starts assigning their class with their support course partners, when a mop of hair pops inside their classroom and asks if this is the 2-A class. Katsuki looks up just in time to see Aizawa use his capture weapon to shush the mumbling support course student who was spouting excuses as to why he was late. Aizawa then releases his capture weapon and loudly exclaims "and just for that, you will be assigned to my problem child. Row 4 aisle 3, you'll be working with Bakugou Katsuki."

This is it, Katsuki thought to himself. He's screwed. As Aizawa lowers his capture weapon, Katsuki is immediately assaulted by Izuku's blushing face, likely embarrased from being called out by a pro hero for his clumsiness. What he was not prepared for, was the sight of his childhood friend. No longer a scrawny kid, Izuku has hit a growth spurt and has since learned to do basic toning exercises by the looks of it. Somehow, he's also developed a sense of style cause his hair is no longer an unruly mess of green hair, but it was shaved a bit at the edges and is parted, accentuating his dimples and the freckles on his cheeks.

Izuku hesitantly walks up to him and gives him a tentative smile. "H..hi Kacchan" Izuku stammers. Katsuki was not prepared for Izuku's smile. Not wanting to show his internal freakout, Katsuki says "you got tall, but I'm still taller, nerd" and then Izuku full on laughs at him. It was then that Katsuki realized that Izuku's laugh maybe has a nice ring to it. It was literal years since he heard that laugh, and he was not assaulted with good childhood memories. Nope, not at all.

The thing was, Katsuki has since come to terms with his sexuality. Sure, he dated men and women before, but he somehow leaned more on the masculine side when choosing his dates, and he is starting to realize that his once scrawny childhood bestfriend's smile makes him feel prickly but in a good kind of way.

Katsuki was brought out of his musings when Aizawa began to drone off on what they should do for the next hour of class before zipping himself up in his sleeping bag. Izuku then picks up Aizawa's queue and starts asking Katsuki questions about his quirk. It was then that Katsuki started to notice the little things, like how Izuku's drawings and note taking have gotten more meticulous over time. How his line of questioning about the intricacies of his quirk were more profound. No longer was Izuku always rambling about how cool and powerful his quirk is, he's now able to spout information on how he thinks Katsuki's present hero costume can be altered, so that he can get rid of his bulky gauntlets while still maintaining the same level of firepower he always had. Katsuki was left with nothing, but to answer the questions thrown his way. Before he knew it, the one hour mark was up, and Aizawa-sensei was emerging from his sleeping bag on the floor.

"Uhm, thanks for not exploding me there Kacchan" Izuku rambles. Wide-eyed at how the (not) nerd looks, Katsuki just grunts and says "whatever." Izuku takes it as some sort of sign and just smiles and says "So I'll need your number so we can meet up next week." That got Katsuki's mind reeling and immediately tries to think of reasons why Izuku of all people will ask for his number. He's taken out of his internal monologue when Izuku says "Oh wait, it's probably better if I email you using your school email handle, atleast I can send you progress reports on your costume upgrades. Well, I'll talk to you next week. See ya!"

With that, Izuku and his entire class all bow their heads and Aizawa sheperds them outside the classroom, probably to talk to them for a bit.

After class ends, Katsuki decides to forgo his training and holes up in his dorm room, just staring at the anonymous letter in his grasp. He's kinda screwed. He knows, but he grins despite himself. He's looking forward to the weekend, when he can keep the second letter he received together with the first.

The third letter came that morning. Fast forward 7 years, with lots of problems, misunderstandings, and a whole lot of crying (on Izuku's part, Katsuki swears), he and Izuku have managed to repair their ruined friendship and has since learned to exist together in the same room and even work together on occasion. Katsuki graduated as one of the Big 3 at U.A. and Izuku was scouted by a support company during his third year internship, and has since been working with a reputable support item company right after graduation.

Katsuki has come to terms with the idea that yes, his longing for his childhood bestfriend was not as platonic as he used to think (I'm just making up for lost time), but rather because he may or may not have developed romantic feelings for the (not) nerd. After finding out from class 3-A that Katsuki was bi, Izuku has been smiling at him more, and has even invited him out several times, always in the guise of "Kacchan, I want to discuss some possible costume upgrades, are you free?" And if they just so happen to meet up at some chic coffee shop or a cute cake shop, then it is what it is.

7 years into their tentative "friendship", Katsuki was hit with the realization that he really likes Izuku, and wants to ask him to be his boyfriend. So last week, he casually invited Izuku to their favorite izakaya that's situated in between his hero agency and Izuku's company. After arriving at his apartment to prepare for his "not date", he notices a letter in his mailbox. Seeing the same envelope and lettering, he quickly runs inside his room and opens his cabinet. Underneath his spare boots, he takes out the shoebox containing the first 2 letters he got. All the same envelope, same handwriting, and Katsuki has yet to figure out who sends these to him. Not wanting to jinx it, Katsuki sits on his bed and opens the new letter. The only words written inside was today's date, the restaurant he was supposed to meet Izuku in, and the words "Go to the other place" in bold black letters. Katsuki snickers and calls Izuku and tells him to meet him at that restaurant that serves Katsudon instead.

Later that night, while Izuku snuggles with Katsuki on his couch, Izuku jumps up and says "Oh yeah Kacchan, I forgot to tell you, but that izakaya we were supposed to go to got attacked by a villain earlier! Good thing Red Riot and Uravity were on patrol so they got everything under control! Can we drop by tomorrow? Check things out" Katsuki just snuggles into Izuku more. "Sure nerd, whatever you want."

-- end

PS: Now if only I can work out some details as to who is Katsuki's mysterious letter sender. A Katsuki from an alternate universe? Katsuki from the future sending his past self some dating tips? I'll leave it to your imagination 💚🧡

#midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #katsudeku #katsuki x izuku #bakudeku #bkdk #fanfic ideas

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hoodoo12 · 4 years

Text

Private Lesson

Dewey Finn appreciation continues! Based on an rp with the always delightful, insanely talented @beetlebitchywitch. NSFW: Dewey/f!reader. Flirting, Dewey being oblivious, the light comes on, smut! Enjoy!

⁂

“You know, Dewey,” she said, “I'm not in a rock band. But I play piano, so I've got manual dexterity, and I play saxophone so I have pretty good breath control too. I wonder if either of those things interest you at all?”

As always when the discussion of music was even breathed near him, he brightened, “Oh, you looking to join a band? Mine’s kinda just made of kids, but I’m sure they’d love a jam session with you!”

She gave him a bit of a smile, and decided to play along for the moment.

“It'd have to be a jazz band, not rock,” she mused. “I kind of like the big band sound, and some of those male vocalists? Yeah. That’s my preference.”

“I bet you’d do great at that!” he enthused. “Jazz isn’t really my thing, but as long as you’re passionate about it, you’ll make great music.”

He was clueless and adorable. She decided to up the ante. “I think it'd be fun making some music with you, if you're interested . . .”

His brow furrowed. “ . . .wait.”

She raised her eyebrows and her smile widened.

“ . . . I think I get it,” he continued in her silence.

Did he, though? “No kids though. It'd have to be a private lesson.”

“You, uh. You talking about a . . .” He gulped. “ . . . private lesson?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed.” I don't know anything about guitar, so you'd have to show me the fingerings. You know?

A blush began creeping up his cheeks. “I . . . I do know a thing or two about f-fingering . . .”

“I bet you do, Dewey.” she agreed, licking her lip just to make it shiny. “I know that lots of guitarists have calloused fingers too--I dated a bassist, once--but that's okay. Shows you're dedicated to what you like.”

He was getting more flustered, but instead of shutting down, he choked out, “Did you, uh . . . did you like the callouses?

“Sure did! It's an interesting contrast on . . . softer skin. And since the fingertips lose a little bit of feeling when those callouses are there, a little extra attention, like a little harder suction, is needed. Musicians hands always need some massaging and care.”

He was bright red at this point, gazing at her with wide eyes as if seeing her for the first time. “Would you, um . . . Christ, sorry, forget it . . . ”

“Would I what?” she prompted softly. “It's okay, Dewey. What were you going to ask?”

“Well, I . . . it’s just . . . I’dbetyou’dfeelreallysoft . . .”

His slurred words took a second to decipher, then she grinned. "Come here and feel?"

She held a hand out to him, palm up.

He approached her slowly, his cheeks pleasantly pink as he gazed at her hand.

“O-okay . . .”

He reached out and touched her hand, and oh god, he was right, her skin was so soft. He shuddered as he traced his calloused fingertips in light circles around her palm.

She let him rub circles into her palm, even though it tickled a little and he seemed shy about such innocent contact. Smiling at him, she asked, "Do I get to return the favor?"

His eyes flitted back up to hers and he nodded softly, mirroring her gesture with his palm faced up, his hands trembling slightly.

She took a second to rub her hands briskly, to warm them, then took his hand into hers. Using her thumbs, she pushed into his palm before dragging them out, and repeating the motion. She used more gentle pulling motions on each individual finger, adding minor twists to loosen any stiffness he might have in a joint. She paid special attention to his fingertips, like she'd mentioned, applying slightly harder pressure on the callouses he'd created with the strings of his guitar.

She laced her fingers with his and stretched everything backwards, again to loosen it all, and finished after another quickly rubbing her hand together again, for the heat. She squeezed his hands lightly, when she was done.

"That would've been better with some lotion," she told him sheepishly. "Maybe next time?"

He watched her intently as she massaged his hand, putting so much care into a simple action in a way that just did something to him. God, he felt so pathetic, getting so worked up over someone just touching his hand, but something about the way her soft fingers soothed the overworked muscles sent hot pleasure racing through him. He hated to admit it, but he was getting hard in his pants from the simplest of touches, this gentle, caring gesture that just made him want to fall to his knees and worship her where she stood.

“Y-yeah . . . ” he stammered, his mouth feeling utterly dry. “Next time . . .”

"Well, I'm sure other parts could use a little attention too. I bet you store a lot of tension in that shoulder where your guitar strap digs in, and everybody's back needs some rubbing too . . . of course, it'd be best if you didn't have a shirt on for that . . ."

“Yeah, no, I can do that!” he said hurriedly, fumbling with his shirt as he rushed to take it off. The thought of those soft, warm hands on his back . . . he tried to readjust himself discreetly, not wanting to embarrass himself.

She plucked the shirt out of his hand where he'd balled it up and folded it semi-neatly. Dragging her fingertips across his now bare shoulders, she smiled.

"This might be better if you're laying down," she advised, "but the only place that would be comfortable enough is the bed. Would that be okay?"

He shivered at the light tickle of her fingertips along his shoulder, and with a soft nod, he was laying out across the bed, thankfully on his stomach so to hide his growing arousal.

She hummed her satisfaction and crawled up beside him.

She focused on his left shoulder first. working out the kinks driven into the muscle by that guitar strap. She could feel the knots there, and used heavy pressure to try and loosen them. Worried she'd go overboard, however, she left it be and worked on his right shoulder, as well as his neck.

Quietly she asked him to cross his arms and rest his forehead on them, and when he complied, she pressed her thumbs into the muscle near the back of his head, on either side of his neck.

Then she moved down the rest of his back, using sweeping motions and moderate pressure to relax him. His back was warm and soft under her hands, and she tried to make sure not to tickle him as she worked her way to his waist.

In his lower back, she traced around the dimples she found there a few times because they were cute, then she once again used moderate pressure on the area. Her fingers dipped under the waistband of his jeans--that was a mistake, she should have had him shed those too, no one could be comfortable getting a massage in jeans!--but she didn't make it awkward.

She finished it all with very light scratches, and impulsively, she pressed a kiss right between his shoulder blades.

Fuck. Her hands were heavenly, her touch just firm enough to loosen his tense muscles. She touched him slowly, softly, and Christ it was driving him fucking wild. When her touch grew slightly more adventurous, he perked up, feeling like there was electricity buzzing under his skin. But God, when she pressed that soft little kiss on his back, that was it. He let out a pathetic, reedy moan of her name, his entire body trembling underneath her.

She laughed a little, not unkindly, at his moan. Her hands tingled. "So you're feeling good, Dewey? Anything else I can do for you?"

Teasingly, she drew one finger down his back again.

“I-I . . . yes,” he sighed, arching up into the teasing touch with a soft moan. “Christ, I’ve been hard this whole fucking time, baby . . .”

Who needed shame when a hot woman was fucking massaging him?

"Oh! Well, that must not've been too comfortable! Why don't you lose those jeans, and I'll see what I can do to make you feel better in the front too."

He perked up, looking over his shoulder at her questioningly, as if to make sure she meant it. When he saw she did, he shuffled out of his jeans as quickly as he could, struggling for a moment before tossing them away. He was left in only his boxer briefs, his cock straining obviously against the fabric.

Her eyes took him in hungrily, and very lightly, she ran her palms up him, from thigh to chest. She grazed over the bulge at his crotch with the softest, most barely-there touch.

"Those have to be tight too . . ." she told him, nodding towards his underwear. "They should probably go."

He met her gaze, his shyness melting away to pure hunger.

“Then take them off,” he said softly.

Biting her lip but smiling through it at his boldness, her fingers hooked into the elastic at his waist. With a little tug to indicate he needed to lift his hips, she shimmied them over his ass, made sure not to get them caught on his cock, and pulled them down his legs in one determined movement. She wrangled one of his feet out, but left his underwear around the other ankle, to tease.

His cock slapped against his stomach, achingly hard and begging to be touched. He stared her down hungrily, his eyes roving her body.

“Shouldn’t I get to see some skin too, babe? I mean, I am naked for you...”

He smiled slyly, his eyes clearly lingering on her breasts.

"Yes, you certainly are," she agreed.

She couldn't help but scratch lightly down his sides, over his stomach. She'd have dragged her finger down the line of hair from his belly button to his pubic bone, but it was covered by his cock and she didn't want to touch him there just yet.

"That's fair. I have a tattoo and piercings. I hope that's okay," she told him, but pulled her t-shirt off over her head before he could agree or disagree. She let her shirt drop beside the bed, and her bra followed it.

“Okay? It’s hot as fuck, babe,” he groaned, finally getting to take in the sight of her without her shirt on. “Christ . . . you’re beautiful . . . ”

His voice and eyes grew soft, taking her in like she was a work of art.

That unsolicited praise made her blush.

She crawled a little further up the bed on her hands and knees. She watched him watch her, and it made her catch her breath.

"It's not really a standard massage move--more of an advanced one--" She chuckled to show it was a joke, "--but to be thorough, I should probably make sure your lips are relaxed too . . ."

She leaned over him, and softly pressed her mouth on his.

He moaned into her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist and spreading his hands out over her back. Christ, her skin was so soft, smooth and wonderful against his calloused fingers. He kissed her back softly, chuckling a bit at her comment.

“You can drop the whole massage shtick, you know,” he said, pulling away with a little wink. “I think we’re past that at this point, right babe?”

She laughed into his mouth, her eyes bright, looking at him in amusement. "Should I go back to calling it a private lesson?"

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth and adoration for the woman above him.

“Let’s call it what it is,” he said softly, leaning in for an equally soft kiss. “Now . . . Christ, please touch me . . . ”

"I thought you'd never ask, lover," she replied, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Immediately she lay down beside him, hiked on an elbow, using one hand to scratch and massage down his torso. This time, when she neared his cock, she didn't bypass it. Wrapping her hand around him, she gave him a tug, then another. She stopped watching her hand to glance at his face for his reaction.

His face crumpled as her hand moved up and down his cock. God, he was so sensitive, having been hard and waiting for so long. He bucked up into her hand with his mouth hung open, little whimpers spilling from his lips.

She liked that he jerked into her and his whimpers were sweet. That was all good, but it could be better. She stroked him with a little more intent, giving him a twist when she reached the head of his cock with each upward pull.

“F-fuck,” he moaned shakily, reaching out to brace his hand on her shoulder. Her hand was so soft, and she was using the perfect amount of pressure as she stroked him, it was driving him fucking crazy.

“Babe . . . fuck, c’mere.” He surged up, pushing her onto her back and moving to hover over her.

"Uh-uh, lover," she protested, and flipped him right back to where he'd been: on his back. "Maybe next time you get to be in charge."

To keep him in place, she quickly shed her pants and panties and then climbed up over him and sat on his upper thighs. She walked her fingers up his stomach to his chest, and she rolled his nipples.

He threw his head back with a desperate moan, bucking up into her touch as the little noises poured from his lips. This was not how he expected this to go, but honestly, he wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

She smiled down at him, loving the moans she dragged out of him. She pinched him again before stretching upward to kiss him, harder this time, slipping her tongue between his lips.

The position had moved her more onto his groin, but she held herself up for the moment. Her belly and chest on his, she wiggled against him, skin on skin.

“B-babe!” he cried out, holding tightly onto her hips as she ground down onto him. Christ, she felt so good, all warm and smooth skin under his hands.

"Mmm--that feels nice," she cooed, even as she sat up a little bit. She pried one of his hands off her hip and transferred it to her right tit. She closed his fingers over the captive bead piercing in her own nipple.

"Be nice," she said, in mock warning.

“Mmf, yes ma’am,” he groaned, kneading her breast in his hand.

He let his fingers play with the bar pierced through her nipple, pinching and twisting her nipple while gazing up at her in adoration.

"Oh, that's fucking good," she moaned.

The sharp pleasure Dewey created with his rough fingertips made her arch her back, which in turn dropped her pussy to his cock. It wasn't the perfect position, his shaft laying the length of her slit, but she ground down on him anyway, continuing to moan and giggle a little.

“Oh god,” he groaned gutturally, bucking his hips to grind the length of his cock along her pussy. Christ, she was fucking wet, all hot and slick against him and it was driving him fucking crazy. He continued playing with her nipple, loving the feeling of the metal inside it.

His movements down below made his cock rub along her clit, and she jerked like it'd been a live wire.

"Fuck--Dewey! Do that again!" she ordered, but it came out more like a plea.

He continued grinding up against her, throwing his head back with a reedy moan at the feeling of her slick warming his cock.

She dropped her head as he complied, and gave a little gaspy moan with each bump of the head of his cock on her clit.

Like before, it was good, but it could be better.

She leaned down again dislodging his hand from her now overstimulated nipple. She kissed him, then dragged her mouth along his jaw till she got to his ear. She nipped the lobe, and rasped.

"I wanna fuck you, Dewey Finn--right now!"

He kissed her back sweetly, burying his fingers in her hair. When she moved to nibble at his ear, he groaned, biting at his lower lip at the sound of her filthy words.

“Then fuck me,” he retorted.

She snorted--like what he'd said was some kind of challenge?--nipped him a little harder on his ear and sat back up. Dragging her fingernails down his chest and belly again, she reached between her legs and grasped his cock. She gave it a twisting pull, like before, then let him go and brought her hand back up to her mouth to lick it. She kept direct eye contact with the man below her as she did, then slipped her hand back down. One last time she wrapped her hand around him, this time wet, and held him steady while she rocked her hips and found exactly where she wanted him to be.

With a little resistance because yes, she'd been turned on while massaging and teasing him but with the exception of a bit of humping not much else had happened between her legs, she arched her back and pushed down onto him. Once he opened her up, her cunt took him fully, and she paused for a moment, seated at his pelvis for a moment, waves of pleasure making her moan long and low.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he groaned while she sank down onto him.

If he thought her just grinding on his cock was incredible, god, the feeling of her tight, wet pussy gripping him was almost too much to handle. He gazed up at her, and Christ was she hot, her tits just begging to be squeezed where they hung above her belly.

She sat upright on him and gently rolled her hips, keeping him deep inside her. She cupped her tits, and seeing him lick his lips as she did she leaned back down for a moment. The positioning wasn't perfect, so she asked him to sit up, and she bunched up and shoved the pillows behind him to keep him angled more upright. It was awkward for a moment, trying to balance with his cock inside her as he settled back, but once he had, her tits were closer to his mouth. She grinned and, tugging just a bit on her piercing to make the nipple stand up again, she cupped it and offered it to him with raised eyebrows.

He looked up at her for a second with eyes full of wonder before he latched on, rolling his tongue around the hardened bud and groaning against the cool metal of the piercing. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her as he thrusted up into her, craving the delicious slide of his cock in her pussy.

Like a circuit being completed, bliss arced through her. She wrapped her now free hand around his head, keeping him close. She'd have been happy to keep fucking him, but with his feet planted on the bed he pushed up into her, and it was divine. She cried out in time with his thrusts, his cock creating the most delicious friction even as her pussy grew wetter.

"D-Dewey!" she stuttered. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, please--bite harder, just a little harder, oh fuck fuck fuck--"

Christ, she was fucking incredible. He was in awe of her as she rode him, tits bouncing as he teased her nipple with his tongue before nipping at it, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin. He pulled away, looking up at her with dark, wild eyes.

“That’s it, baby, Jesus you feel--mmf, fuck--you feel so good!”

"Fuck! You too, you too," she babbled.

Everything was building to a peak. He'd left off her tit but that didn't matter any more, the only thing that existed in the world right now was the man below her, his cock in her pussy, his hands so tight on her skin, his dirty praise. Her throat hurt from the sharp panting and moans he pulled from her, and then it all stilled. In the next moment, she came, hard, his name choked out, every bit of her clenching as euphoria rolled in waves over her. For a millisecond of eternity, it was sublime. It took a bit before she could open her eyes again, and her ears were ringing.

Oh god. Oh god. She was utterly divine, riding him within an inch of his life, hands scrabbling for purchase on his chest and pretty little noises spilling from her lips. And god, when she came, it was all too much. Her pussy clenched around him so fucking tightly and it was all over. He gripped her hips tightly and came with a loud moan, spilling into her as absolute sublime pleasure ripped through his body.

Although there were still residual tremors of pleasure, she wasn't so far gone that she couldn't enjoy the sights and sounds of Dewey coming undone below her.

"Good--oh baby, it's so fucking good--come inside me, oh fuck, Dewey--!" she praised as he tipped over the edge of ecstasy. His hands pinched her, but it was worth the small ache to watch his face as he lost himself.

When he relaxed, she relaxed too, folding over and laying on his chest, but not lifting her hips so he stayed buried in her pussy. With her cheek on his shoulder, she drew abstract designs in the hair on his chest.

He panted softly as he came down, the feeling of his cum dripping from her pussy practically making his head spin. She was so incredibly warm and wet around him, and the pleasurable feeling fizzled out slowly as she shifted to snuggle up to him.

“W-wow . . .”

"Wow yourself," she agreed. "Thanks for all that, Dewey. It was amazing."

“You don’t have to thank me,” he sighed happily, twirling a strand of her hair in his fingers. “The pleasure was all mine . . . well, all ours I suppose.”

She picked up her head to look at him.

"It was amazing," she repeated, and kissed him under the jaw, in his scruff. "I appreciate the private lesson. Maybe next time you could show me some of that fingering you mentioned?"

He grinned, pulling her down into a slow, sweet kiss.

“Anytime, babe,” he said. “Anytime.” fin!

#writing #fanfiction #dewey finn #school of rock #dewey x reader

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sea-side-scribbles · 4 years

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Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/72230025

Chapter 50

"Hunt, it's me", Nick said to the bobby who had started to investigate the suspicious noise that came from the backyard. "Mr. Lightbearer, you had me worried." "Oh, no worries, Hunt. I just needed to stretch my legs a bit", he waved him off. "I see..., well, you know, you should tell me whenever you leave the house. It's dangerous to be outside at night. I could keep you company. Or better, you pop a Joy and stay happy inside." "But Hunt, your colleagues take care of me just fine. And they need a bit of attention now and then", he said with a wink. "Uh...haha, sure, but I must insist this time. You shouldn't break the curfew anymore, I suggest for the next two months." Nick began to wonder. "Are you serious? What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing, Sir, just a precaution. The curfew applies for everyone after all." "Hunt, I don't talk to you when you're like that". Nick turned around and left. Fancy, he thought. Suddenly it's all about law and order or what. I should abandon him outside for a few days, without my usual hospitality and free meals, so he remembers how exhausting law and order actually are.

When he heard loud music from inside, his mood lit up again. He liked that his house wasn't empty anymore, that he came home to be welcomed by friends. The song that was playing wasn't one his own, what was a welcome change. The noise however sounded as if they were tearing down the house. He quickly got rid of his wig and everything that didn't appeal to Morrie, and went to see what was going on. They didn't notice him because of the music and also because they were absorbed in a game of football, by the looks of it. Nick walked into the middle of the room and picked up the ball. Immediately, he had their attention.

"Hey, Nick, you're back. How are you doing?", Chris asked. "Did they really let you go, or did you break out?", Brad wanted to know. He made Nick grin. "Guess what, they really let me out this time." "You're looking good", Matt said. "Thanks..." Nick adjusted his hair. "...for your age", his friend added and Nick sighed. "I can't believe I fell for that." "Just kidding, you're really looking good", Matt came around. "Do you feel as good?" "Yeah, I'm snug as a bug", Nick answered happily. "I'll outrun you all!" And with that, he kicked the ball and continued the game.

They cheerfully ran around, free from all the restrictions outside. Since Nick had seen the Garden District, he knew what he missed in town. The few sessions of 'Simon Says' in front of the TV weren't the same. And the way his friends romped about, Nick assumed they felt the same, even though none of them would confess it. He didn't care anymore if something got broken, it would be worth it. Only when the ball hit the wrong spot on his head, he had to pause.

Pressing a hand against his head, he moaned. "Did I hurt you?", Brad was alerted. "Let me see." Nick reluctantly put his hand away and let his friend palpate the wound. "You have a real lump there, buddy." Nick jumped when he pressed against it. "Ow, be careful, it's painful enough as it is!" "That wasn't the ball", Brad stated and wiped Nick's hair aside to take a closer look at it. "No, I got it this morning", Nick admitted, shooing Brad's way too curious hands away and hiding the lump again with his own.

"Wait...during your therapy?", Morrie asked. Nick shrugged. "What are they doing with you?" "You also have bruises on your arm", Matt noticed. Nick's sleeve had moved up and revealed the spot where the headboy had grabbed him. Nick promptly shoved the sleeve back down. "It's nothing, okay? I'm alright." "Did they give you some healing balm?" Chris looked worried too. "Sure." "Doesn't look like it, though." "Since when are you a doctor?" Nick protested.

Of course, he hadn't patched himself up when he had been with Arthur. He hadn't mentioned the bruises again, so that Arthur wouldn't feel bad about them. In addition, he found they weren't too bad if no one touched them.

"You need that balm at least", Brad decided. "You have some at home, right? Come on, sit down." He shoved Nick to the next couch in sight. "If it makes you feel better", Nick moaned and did as he was told. "Just behave Nicky, that one time we're trying to help you". Chris patted his shoulder. Nick mused. "You should find some balm in my bathroom cabinet." "I found it yet", he heard Morrie shout from the upper floor. When he came back, Brad snatched the balm out of his hands and joined Nick on the couch.

Opening the lid, he said: "This won't take long. Just put out your little arm, my darling." Nick rolled his eyes and showed him the bruise. While Brad rubbed the balm in, he had to admit that it's cold was refreshing and he liked how his friends cared about him. "Something on the other arm?", Brad asked. Nick shook his head and pulled up his sleeve to prove it. The arm was unscathed, at least the lower part. But Brad didn't go so far as undressing him. He stroked his hair away and this time, Nick helped him. He jumped again and held his breath when his friend touched the wound.

"What kind of doctor would let you go without healing you?", Morrie said shaking his head. "I'm glad I could go", Nick promptly said. "And I didn't make a fuss about it, so they probably didn't notice - are you greasing my hair?" Brad chuckled. "I can't do anything about it. Just wait a bit before you wash it out." "Okay." "So, that's it." Brad eyed his work. "Or is there more?" Nick shook his head. "If it happens again, just tell us. It'll bother you more if you ignore it and you need to be fit for your next performance." "Oh, that's why", Nick said grinning. "And I thought it's about me." "It's not always about you, Nicky", Brad teased him, laughing and leaving to put the balm back. Nick acted disgusted. "And I let you live here, smashing my furniture." "Hey, we didn't break anything yet", Matt fought him off, tossing the ball to Chris. "How boring", Chris said catching it. "I guess we're getting old." "We're getting wise", Matt corrected him. Chris laughed and made a dumb face.

"So what, fancy another match?", Nick urged them. "If you can", Chris answered, more seriously than teasing. "Come on, I'm not an invalid." When Brad came back, Chris asked him: "Can Nicky play with us or should he go to bed?" "Hey", Nick protested. "I'll do what I want, If you like it or not." He stuck his tongue out. "Adorable as always, our little one", Brad said. "That's fine with me but don't cry later." "We'll see who's crying." They played on and Nick took care that he wouldn't hurt any of his bruises again. He indeed had more, but he wasn't keen on showing them all. He managed not to pause the game again and they played until they were dead beat and gathering around his bar to relax.

"I'm so hungry", Nick said eventually. "I haven't eaten anything since this morning. Why don't we go somewhere nice and stuff ourselves?" "Good idea", Chris agreed. "Do you remember the 'Swing A Leg'?" "Oh, sure, how could I forget that?" "I'm afraid I'm too tired to swing any legs", Morrie said. "And when I remember it right, they put more value to their dancing than their cooking." Matt chuckled. "That's true. I wouldn't go there if I was really hungry." "Did we ever try the Avalon before?", Brad asked. "Yeah, only for a hundred times already", Nick said. "Yeah, you, Nick, but us ordinary mortals haven't been as lucky." "That's true", Chris agreed. "We only had breakfast once. We should go for a real meal this time. I think we deserve it." "Alright, okay", Nick gave in. "We can even sleep in my suite so we don't have to leave before curfew." "Sounds like a great plan", Brad approved.

They put on the most unflashy clothes they had, so they could walk to the hotel without being bothered. It also helped that most of the Wellies were still at work. The band was cheerful. Nick changed glances with Morrie to make sure he had fun too. When Morrie's look couldn't be more loving, it made Nick's heart beat faster and he was smiling happier than everyone else on Joy. When they said goodbye to Constable Hunt, the man shouted: "But be back before curfew, will you?" "Don't worry Hunt, we'll stay overnight. Just take good care of my home." "Of course." Hunt seemed to be very duteous.

"What happened to him?", Nick wondered loudly. "He's so petty all of a sudden." Chris stepped in. "First of all he should be like this, if only you didn't have such priviledges..." Nick rolled his eyes. "And secondly, there's rumours again." Nick had a bad feeling. "What rumours?" "Uh well, when we had breakfast in this café..." "Café Luna", Matt helped him out. "Yeah that. People were talking...They said Foggy Jack sent another one on holiday last night..." Nick felt sick. "Then we should indeed be careful." "We are. We'll stay in the hotel." Chris shrugged. "Really, if Foggy Jack was real, don't you think we would know what he looks like? Think at all the bobbies that patrol here." He pointed at a Constable who just passed by them. They greeted each other and went their ways. "...and still nobody ever saw him", he continued. "Yeah...it's weird...", Nick said. "But who would make this up? And why?" "Doesn't the fog cause halluzinations if you stay in it for too long?", Matt asked. "But you know if someone is dead or not." "Guys, this is all very interesting, but if you don't plan on becoming Downers, you should probably change the topic", Brad commented their conversation. "If Nick's asking...", Chris defended himself. "He deserves to know after all."

Nick looked around to all the happy Wellies, walking by the colorfully patterned facades. It was hard to believe that something horrible had happened in here, only a few hours ago. He racked his brains but couldn't recall what he had done that night before he had woken up with Arthur. He had gone outside because he had wanted to be alone and think. And then what? Then he must've stayed somewhere, but his mind was all foggy. For all he knew, he could've actually been in therapy. Had he visited James? And he had brought him back to his tunnel as he had done it before, even though Nick had no clue how? He liked this version much more than this nagging suspense.

The band had long moved on to happier topics. Soon, they ascended the stairs to the Avalon Hotel and found his golden statue. "Look who's there?", Chris asked. "No idea, I've never seen this bloke before", Nick said dryly. "Are you their honorary guest or something?" Chris climbed the pedestal. "No, it's only for the convention...they don't like me much in here, actually", Nick admitted, watching him. Chris patted the metal. "How much did it cost to set this up?" "I don't know, Virgil took care of that. But don't worry, we could set up the entire band, so he won't be lonely anymore." Brad laughed. "That'd block the entrance for good." "We could make them bigger, so people can walk through under our legs", Matt suggested. "That would scare everyone off", Morrie stated. "Oh, come on, Morrie, don't you want to be cast in gold?", Chris asked from up above. "I like golden records more", the pianist said. They laughed, Chris left the statue and they went inside.

Nick was glad they laughed it away and didn't complain about how unfair it was. There were more statues of himself in the hotel, that caught Nick's eye just now that he wished they weren't there. His friends didn't mention them and he hoped it was because the luxurious furnishing distracted them. They didn't marvel as much as Arthur had since they were used to expensive hotels already. In the restaurant, he sat down next to Morrie, shortly touching his foot with his own. "Do you know that our record is a best seller?", his lover asked promptly. "Yeah? I had no idea! You have to tell me everything that happened today!" "Virgil told us", Brad explained. "He was quite busy and didn't give us the exact numbers, but he sounded quite pleased." "So, we made it". Nick beamed at him. The news raised his spirits. He looked forward to finally be popular and wanted again. Shortly after, they received the menu and began to leaf through it.

"Can you recommend anything?", Morrie asked him. "I suppose you tested this extensively." "I know what you would like", Nick answered and turned the page. Chris dropped the menu. "I can't decide. Why don't we take everything?" "Now come on", Brad said. "I'm serious. Just one big plate in the middle of the table, first the starters, then the main dish and lastly the desserts." "Okay, but can we take a pick? A few dishes per course or so? That should be enough", Morrie suggested. Chris grinned. "Nicky is hungry." "If it's not enough for Nicky he can place an extra order, right, Nicky?", Morrie asked. "It's gonna be okay, the helpings aren't too stinted."

Nick described the meals to them because he had tested most of them, also with Arthur, and so they took their picks. Then they started to talk about all the pubs and restaurants they had visited, the good and the bad ones, and happily exchanged memories. When the dishes were served, Nick thought about Arthur, who now had to do with his meagre supplies again. He considered to save something for him, if there were any leftovers. His friends were tucking in, just like him. Also Morrie, who tried to preserve his dignity, couldn't hide how hungry he was. Nick had always felt like only the Avalon's meals were satisfying, as if they treated them differently here.

"I guess I was right", he said to his lover who helped himself to a second portion. "Indeed", he said quietly, so that only Nick could hear it. "It's delicous. How come you never invited me for dinner?" "Uh...we've been busy with other things", Nick stuttered, developing a bad conscience. It had never occured to him how much Morrie had missed good food. "Also pleasant things", he added. Morrie smiled. "Never mind, Norrie. I'm just yanking your chain." Nick relaxed. "You're right though. We should have a dinner." "Surprise me", Morrie whispered, causing Nick's heart to beat faster. He loved that, their secret closeness, every little intimation, every seemingly random touch, all the whispering, exchanging looks, it made moments like this even more exciting.

Sometime, someone started with the colorful cocktails. Someone always started it and the others went along. Nick loved that stuff anyway. It reminded him of the pubs in their early days, where they had spent their hard-earned money. Sometimes they got free drinks, when the landlord liked them. Every pub had his own recipies. Of course, the Avalon had a larger choice and some of the old drinks he remembered fondly were out of fashion.

Brad seemed to have the same flashbacks because he said: "Do you remember 'Glowing Mojo'? You could light up the room with it, and it made your tongue and teeth all shiny. Now I wonder if there was Motilene in it." "They made all sorts of experiments with it when it was new", Chris added. "Why not for drinks?" "Oh, no, I don't think so. I know what Motilene tastes like", Nick said. They looked at him. "Long story", he waved them off. "The smell is better than the taste." They laughed. "I got something called 'Foggy Jack', that wasn't only puffing smoke but it also clouded my mind completely. I still can't recall what happened after one glass until two days later", Matt told them. "Or, you can't recall all the other drinks you had", Brad suggested. "Or it was the Joy", Chris said. "When it was new, it used to knock people out from time to time. Do you remember how they tried to make Joy drinkable? It was awful!" They enjoyed themselves and laughed a lot. The more drinks they had, the funnier it got. Nick found the courage to tell them stories about his solo-career and nobody did mind.

Suddenly they were approached by the hotel manager Murray Davis, who not too politely asked them to leave because of the noise they were making. "What do you mean, too loud?", Nick protested. "Mind you, we'll pay a massive bill for all this. You know what? If you don't let us stay, we won't pay for anything!" "I'll take you to court, how is that?", the manager fought back. "You'll lose anyway!" Morrie stepped in. He was the most sober. "Don't chance it, Nick", he said touching his lover's shoulders. "Why don't we go to your suite, where we are alone?" "If you want, Morrie, but I don't like to take that shit from him." "Come on, let's go", Matt assisted Morrie. "You've got liquids in your suite, right?" "Sure", Nick said. "But I'll pay you back", he hissed into Davis' direction. Morrie gently shoved him forward. "He really doesn't like you much", Chris stated. "Oh, he's always grumpy, even on Joy. He'll see where that gets him." They took the elevator to a very expensively decorated floor. The biggest door led to the Wonderland Suite. This room received more gaping because it outdid every hotel room they knew.

Nick quickly got busy at the bar, pouring drinks for everyone. He also had left some harmless party favors that he offered to them. Soon, they turned up the music to full blast and sang along. Nick, who was mellowed by alcohol and his party favors, fell into Morrie's arms. "Dance with me", he uttered. And then he span Morrie around. The band laughed and cheered him on. When they found the pool, they had other things to do. Nick blacked out into dream world eventually while dancing.

Wow, I can't believe this fanfic is now one year old! It's my life now and it's keeping me warm in these cold days. A big thank you to everyone who's still reading or just started to read, to everyone who liked, reblogged, everyone who left comments or even fanart <3<3<3 This fandom is wonderful and I'm happy to be here. Have a nice day, wherever you are and don't let these times get you down. You're a wonderful person!

#we happy few #whf #wehappyfew #nick lightbearer #whfnick whf nick #nickxmorrie #themakebelieves #whfthemakebelieves

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justfandomwritings · 5 years

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United In Fear (Part Two - Soulmate!Robb)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader; Soulmates AU

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: literally just chit chat fluff and character building

Summary: The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros. Each kingdom had their own telling of the story. None of the kingdoms could agree on where they were from or how they came to be. Each thought a different god, their own interpretation of religion, was responsible, but all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

Notes: sooo... I like Tywin Lannister. This is kinda fun I think. Let me know.

Previously On... Part One

“A Rose of Gold?” (Y/n) scoffed. “Do we look like Tyrell’s to you?”

“I-I,” The bard stuttered over his words, “I could play the Lion and the Lady for you, Lady Lannister.”

A guffaw went up around the group of Lannister soldiers. There was no worse Westerlands song he could have chosen to play for (Y/n) Lannister than the one effectively about how she should not exist.

“Best choose something else,” An older soldier, named Tygett after Tywin’s younger brother, advised.

None of the group who’d come up with (Y/n) from Casterly Rock felt particularly welcome in Winterfell. Every morning since she’d sent word for her father to ride north, (Y/n) had left the keep in the early hours of the morning to join her men in the barracks to break fast; and every night since her father replied that he was on his way with all haste, she had dropped all pretense of social interaction with the Starks or the King’s party and taken all of her meals with her men.

The twenty or so soldiers were camped around a large bonfire behind the stables of Winterfell, as they were every night. The meal was soup, one of the large pots Winterfell’s kitchen had delivered to the barracks for any men not invited to the feast. A few well-placed coins by (Y/n) had managed to get all of the rolls baked for that night’s supper delivered, instead, to the fireside, and some of the North’s musicians who had been displaced by those brought with the King had thought to join the Lannister to earn some gold from them.

“It’s a bit late for lively music. Can we trust you to know the Song of the Seven?” (Y/n) asked the Northmen.

The bard hesitated, “We know to play it, but we keep faith with the old gods so we…”

“Cannot sing it. Yes, I understand.” (Y/n) pushed off the barrel she’d made use of as a chair and walked around the fire to toss a copper to the harpist. “Play it. We will do the singing.”

As the men prepared their instruments, (Y/n) approached one of the squires sitting in the dirt behind the circle of soldiers. “You were the one singing on the journey to the Kingsroad?”

“Yes, my lady?” The young squire looked on confused.

“Well,” She ushered him to get up, “On with you then. I can’t very well sing alone.”

The boy scrambled to his feet and followed the Lady of the Rock into the center of the circle as the notes began to play.

“The Father’s face is stern and strong, he sits and judges right from wrong. He weighs our lives, the short and long, and loves the little children,” The squire took the first verse.

(Y/n) smiled; she was right. The boy could sing. She’d remember that for the journey home. “The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children.”

The squire traded verses with his Lady, singing the deeper masculine verses to contrast her beautiful harmonies. “The Warrior stands before the foe, protecting us where e'er we go. With sword and shield and spear and bow, he guards the little children.”

“The Crone is very wise and old, and sees our fates as they unfold. She lifts her lamp of shining gold to lead the little children.” Tyrion used to tease her that it was the mention of gold, but (Y/n)’s favorite verse to the common lullaby had always been the verse of the Crone. As a child, she’d loved joining in for the one verse as her brother sang her to sleep.

“The Smith, he labors day and night, to put the world of men to right. With hammer, plow, and fire bright, he builds for little children.”

The squire finished his final solo, and (Y/n) picked up, “The Maiden dances through the sky, she lives in every lover's sigh. Her smiles teach the birds to fly, and gives dreams to little children.”

Together, the pair sang to the men the final verse, “The Seven Gods who made us all, are listening if we should call. So close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children. Just close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children.”

Applause went once around the men, more for (Y/n) than the squire. It was applause nonetheles, and from the way the boy was beaming, (Y/n) thought his talents were not often appreciated.

The boy scampered back to his place behind the men, and (Y/n) took up the barrell as her seat once again, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees in a rather unladylike fashion.

The men began discussing another song the pair could sing, mostly calling out for the typical Rains of Castermere. (Y/n) laughed when someone suggested that perhaps the squire could play a bear and let her sing the Bear and the Maiden Fair. The men poked fun at each other, and it wasn’t until their laughter died down that they heard a new voice.

“You are in the North,” All heads around the fire turned except (Y/n)’s. “Our songs aren’t as famous in the South, but given the setting one of them might be appropriate.”

Silence prevailed after his words, and (Y/n) stared straight ahead as she spoke in a low, commanding voice. “Leave us.”

None questioned it. As one, the soldiers rose to their feet and began collecting their things.

“Your name, squire?” (Y/n) called after her singing partner without averting her gaze.

“Podrick Payne, my lady.” The boy bowed in her peripheral vision.

(Y/n) nodded. Ilyn Payne’s kin, she wouldn’t have guessed from his temperament. “Thank you, Podrick. Go with the others.”

Robb Stark didn’t approach until the last of the musicians had blundered away towards the barracks. “You have a beautiful voice.” He said as he picked out the nearest barrell one of her men had been using and rolled it over to her side.

“Thank you, my lord. Many years of lessons would hope I did.”

“I hadn’t thought that part of lessons to become a lady.” Robb noted curiously. “Though in truth, I never paid much attention to what my sisters’ were being taught by their Septa.”

(Y/n) shrugged, not having an answer. “I can’t say, truthfully. I wasn’t educated by a Septa.”

“I thought all future ladies were?”

(Y/n) chuckled to herself and finally looked over to Robb. “And since when did rules start applying to Lannisters?”

Robb smirked and waved a hand to the empty seats around him. “They seemed to follow rules well enough. My father’s men don’t scatter so quickly at my word, let alone my sisters.”

“I’m a Lannister.” (Y/n) sat up off her knees and looked on Robb with all the majesty her entrance to Winterfell had possessed. “We don’t tolerate insubordination in our soldiers or weakness in our leaders.”

Robb diverted his gaze quickly, “I would never dare call a woman who stood up to the King as you did weak.” He knew the bruise was still there, but he was sitting on the wrong side of her to see it. In a way Robb was grateful for that. His first sight of her skin discolored by the hands of his King had been at the noon meal after she returned from sending a raven for her father, and it had infuriated him beyond reason. When the King ordered her brother to escort her to the seat at Robb’s right hand side the damage to her face was in full view. Robb had done the only thing he could to keep himself from leaping for Robert Baratheon; he’d pushed himself from the table and stormed out of the hall to find Jon. No one, not even his mother, tried to stop him.

In truth, Robb had been looking for Jon again when he’d found her by the fire with the soldiers. He hadn’t meant to interrupt, but as far as he knew, (Y/n) hadn’t spoken to anyone but her soldiers and her two brothers since Robert laid hands on her. Robb wanted to know for himself that she was fine.

“It takes very little to stand up to a man like Robert Baratheon,” (Y/n) mused. “All one needs is sufficient anger, sufficient bravery, or sufficient stupidity.”

“And which one are you?” Robb chuckled, “Angry, brave, or stupid?”

“None of those, I suppose. I like to think that I stand up to him because I see him for what he truly is.”

After the encounter, Robb saw Robert Baratheon as many things. “I presume you see him as a tyrant?”

(Y/n) shook her head and sighed, “No, Robert Baratheon isn’t smart enough to be a tyrant. He isn’t smart enough to be a king, yet people believe he is for some ridiculous reason.”

“What is he if not a king?”

“He’s a sheep.” (Y/n) and Robb both turned, and their eyes met for a long moment before (Y/n) looked away. “As Father always says, a lioness doesn’t concern herself with the opinions of sheep, even the King of sheep.”

Robb watched her carefully as her gaze lazed away from his. “I hardly think anyone else would describe that oaf as something so innocent as a sheep.”

“He’s not a sheep because he’s innocent.” (Y/n) corrected. “He’s a sheep because he’s simple and foolish. He thought a title would protect him from laying hands on me, but I am the last person in Westeros any man should want to cross.”

“Because of your father?” Robb looked as though he wanted to laugh. Her father was a man to be noted, but he wasn’t the King. “You think the King respects Tywin Lannister so much?”

(Y/n) had heard that tone once before. Long ago, at the docks in Lannisport, a sailor from the Iron Islands had spoken to her in such a way, long before the Greyjoy Rebellion. He’d laughed when she told him about how smart and powerful her father was and jeered her story of his bravery and honor. (Y/n) had told her father about the sailor, and years later when the Iron Islanders burned the Lannister fleet at Lannisport, her father still remembered. He made her look at every coat of arms from the Iron Islands before they left. House Botley, the flag the sailor’s ship had flown, was burned to the ground.

“It’s not a matter of respect. You’ve met the King.” (Y/n) turned her head around and tilted it up in the dying light of the embers to show him the bruise still coloring her cheek. Her hand pulled aside the collar of her dress to show him her bandaged shoulder, “The King did this, and that is the man your father respects more than any other man in the Seven Kingdoms. So tell me,” (Y/n) waited till Robb met her gaze, “do you? Do you respect the King?”

“No.” Robb kept his eyes on hers, not daring to flash them to her injuries. His fists were already clenching his pants; he didn’t know what more he could do to hold back his anger. “No, I don’t.”

(Y/n) dropped her dress back into place, contemplating whether to continue. Robb was her mate, but Robb was a Stark. She didn’t trust many people, and none of the ones she did trust were Starks. How much could she actually divulge to him without risking her head? Not much, but then again, she doubted anyone would believe she said whatever he repeated, assuming he repeated it. Even if they did, Robert Baratheon had already struck her once. The look in his eyes when he did told her Robert knew better than to do so twice.

“Your father doesn’t respect my father. The King doesn’t respect my father, and for all the gold to my name, to have the disrespect of a man like Robert Baratheon is the greatest honor in the Seven Kingdoms. I pray one day men like him talk about me the way they talk about my father. Not with respect, but with fear. Because men like that deserve to be afraid of someone, and I hope it’s me.”

Robb said nothing because what was there to say.

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He joined her again the next night. Later this time, after the fires had died down and the singing had stopped and her soldiers had left to fall asleep.

“Tell me about him.”

“About who?”

“Your father,” Robb explained. “You don’t speak about him as though you love him, but you certainly admire him. He is important to you. I’d like to understand why.”

(Y/n) chuckled to herself. “I must be the only lady in the Seven Kingdoms who ever has to explain why she cares about her father.”

“I apologize,” Robb immediately began to backtrack. “I meant no offense.”

“None was given.” (Y/n) waved him away, slipping off her usual barrell so she could sit in the dirt and lean back on the wood. “I genuinely find it amusing that you all think my father some heartless beast of a man that no one could ever love and who can love nothing in return when his very life proves that not to be true.”

“You mean Joanna?” Robb wasn’t sure if mentioning Tywin’s first wife was a good idea, but he was curious how it affected her.

(Y/n) hedged at the name, though not in the way Robb thought she would. “Yes and no. She was certainly Tywin’s greatest act of love, but people think he feels nothing with her gone. In truth, he cares deeply about a great many things.”

“Like what?”

“Gold for one,” Robb and (Y/n) laughed together for a moment before a look crossed (Y/n)’s eye again and she felt the need to say, “He does love us all, in his own way.”

“What was his way with you?”

His question was met with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the huffing of horses in the stable behind him. The night air filled with sounds of the North that kept them from complete silence, but that didn’t calm the tension that suddenly gripped Robb’s chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d asked the wrong question or simply a hard one to answer, but given what he knew of his mate so far, he doubted very strongly any question was too hard for (Y/n) to answer.

Robb’s eyes darted down every few moments to where (Y/n) sat on the cold earth. Her eyes twinkled reflections of flames as she stared into the fire, but there was not even a twitch to her gaze when a spark danced out of the flames and died only a step from her feet. She was looking, but she wasn’t seeing. Wherever (Y/n)’s mind had gone, it wasn’t Winterfell.

“If I’ve caused you any discomfort…”

“I never knew my mother.” (Y/n) spoke over him as if she hadn’t realized he was speaking. Robb wondered if she ever registered that he was still there. “I barely knew the twins growing up. The only people I had at the Rock were Tyrion and Tywin, and Tyrion, while a wonderful brother, was still a child himself and had his own difficulties plaguing him. The moment I was out of the nursery, all of the maids and septas and nurses were gone. My every waking hour was spent at my father’s feet.”

The idea of Tywin Lannister caring so intimately for a child was disturbing with every notion Robb had of the man, and he found himself shifting uncomfortable on his makeshift stool as he tried to grapple with the idea.

“In meetings with his council, I would be sat in a chair playing with dolls. He taught me to ride a horse while heading out to deal with bandits on the Gold Road. I learned to read by peering over his shoulder at the ledgers of the Rock.” A fond smile pulled the corner of (Y/n)’s lips. “He was as strict and harsh as you imagine, but he was always fair.”

(Y/n) turned then, turned her whole body around to face Robb, as if she needed to be sure he heard her every word perfectly clearly. “He did not raise me to be just anyone. He raised me to be him. You see, my father did not raise me to be some poor beggar’s wife, because I was not supposed to beg. He did not raise me to fall for the first knight in shining armor who rode to my rescue, because I did not need anyone to rescue me. I was never going to work as handmaiden to another lady like any unmarried second daughter would, because I was not going to bow in service to any house. I wasn’t even raised to be the wife of a lord, especially a Lord Paramount and Warden as you.”

Therein lied their problem. Robb could have guessed from her earlier rejections that Tywin did not raise (Y/n) to marry him, not that he would have guessed Tywin raised her. The Lannisters’ influence was evident in her every word, but from the tales, Tywin didn’t seem the fatherly type. Robb just assumed the similarities were a familial trait.

“You can ask.”

“What?” Robb looked on with a heavy crease in his brow that reminded (Y/n) of the constantly heavy appearance of his father. It didn’t suit Robb’s lighter feature the way it suited Ned Stark’s. Robb shared too much of his mother.

“Why. You can ask why. I know you’ve wanted to since I stepped in that room with your parents and the King.”

She was right. It had been the one thing eating at him. Robb liked to think he was good looking enough, kind enough, strong enough. He would be one of the four Wardens one day. Her father already controlled the West. Jon Arryn’s son in the East was far too young. It only left Robb or Doran Martell’s son. The Martell’s were certainly richer, but their lands and armies were much smaller. More than that, they despised the Lannisters even more than his father. The only hope (Y/n) could have for a better match than Robb Stark was Crown Prince Joffrey himself. Still, he was her nephew, and Robert already intended him for Sansa. Being her soulmate, baring her name on his arm, should have been an afterthought.

“Why?” Robb didn’t hesitate to pose the question.

“Because my father raised me to be him in all things.”

Robb took a second longer than he probably should have before his eyes widened. “You can’t honestly mean…”

“Jaime is sworn to hold no lands, and Cersei is the queen. In a perfect kingdom, I would have been born a son, but even as a daughter, he still prefers me to Tyrion.”

“You’re the heir to the Rock.” Robb said in disbelief. “The Warden of the West.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not possible.” He murmured, more to himself than her, as he lowered his head to staring at the ground in complete shock.

(Y/n) couldn’t hold back as her eyes rolled in her head. “I assure you it is.”

“How?”

“Cerelle Lannister already set the precedent. She was an only child at the age of three when Tybolt died, and the Rock fell to her by way of a regent. She did not live to maturity to rule for herself, but she allowed for female inheritance.”

“Even if you discount your twin siblings, Tyrion is a male and your elder.” Robb insisted on pointing out.

(Y/n) nodded, “Yes, but he does not want the damned thing, thinks I’m better suited to it anyhow. Once I marry, he’ll recuse himself from the line of succession, and I will be left as the last alternative.”

“Won’t your uncle object?” Robb motioned up towards the keep. “He has sons; does he not? Robert Baratheon’s squire. Surely he would expect to be the next heir.”

“Kevan knows of all of this, and he does not object. That is rather the point.” (Y/n) referred back to her earlier ramblings, “I was raised for this, made for this, born for this. In the Westerlands, they already know not to question me. They know I am my father’s daughter in every way. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of Westeros falls in line, and it begins with Robert Baratheon.”

“When he struck you?” Robb bit out.

(Y/n) ground her teeth, “Yes, not how I intended to acquaint myself with our king, but since it has happened, it will have to serve a purpose.” A smirk pulled at the corner of her lips, pulling away the noise of her teeth rubbing together, “I am a Lannister after all, and I now owe the King a debt.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” In honesty, it probably should have occurred to Robb to ask sooner. His mate or not, she was a Lannister, as she loved to remind him.

(Y/n) pondered the question for a moment. “I don’t really know,” she confessed. “Under normal circumstances, there would be no reason to reject a match to you, but these aren’t normal circumstances. Maybe it’s that you deserve to know what the circumstances are. I suppose you have a right to know these things. They aren’t just things about me, after all. They are about us.”

“I suppose there’s no hope for a change of circumstances?” Robb smiled to try to lighten the mood. The expression on both of their faces had quickly turned sullen, and he didn’t want what little time he had with his soulmate to be wasted dwelling on dark memories. He would never know her the way he wanted to, but he could at least know her as a friend.

“Only if you’re willing to forsake your inheritance, remove your sigil, leave your family, and follow me to Casterly Rock where you and your children will be known as Lannisters and never be allowed to bear the name Stark?” It was a rather blunt answer, but she said it in such a teasingly optimistic tone that it only lightened the mood further with amusement.

“No,” Robb smirked. “I don’t suppose I would. Perhaps you would turn your back on your father, give up becoming the most powerful woman in Westeros, force Tyrion to become heir to the Rock, leave your gold and all your other lavish Southern possessions and join me in the cold, barren North for the boring life of an incredibly traditional lady?”

Part of him hoped she would say yes, but he wasn’t surprised when she responded with a tinkling laugh of, “No. I don’t suppose I would.”

“Shame,” he smiled to himself. “Perhaps I shall pray to the old gods that my father and the King manage to steal you out from under the lion’s paw by distracting him with something shiny.”

(Y/n) playfully rolled her eyes at him. Her tone was one of fake exasperation, “Perhaps I shall pray to the new gods that Ned Stark doesn’t wet himself when my father arrives or all hope of convincing Tywin to rob Winterfell of its heir will be ruined by his impression of your family.”

The image of his father being scared by anyone’s arrival in their home was amusing enough, but the image of Lord Tywin Lannister dressed head to toe in gold, wiping another man’s piss of his boots was almost too much for Robb. Within a few moments, Robb’s loud guffaw sent both of them into a fit of laughter that was far too loud given the time of night. It ceased rather suddenly only one a loud whinny went up from the stables behind them to sign the horses’ discontent.

“He can’t truly have enough power to work such a thing, even with the help of gods.” Robb’s tone was still light, but there was an underlying question to it that (Y/n) immediately picked up on. He’d never been to the South. He’d never been to royal court, so he didn’t really know the answer to his unspoken question outside of tall tales. How much power did Tywin Lannister truly wield?

“For decades, a Targaryen wore the crown and wielded all the power in Westeros, while my father sat on the Iron Throne and kept the Kingdoms running as their Hand. Now the roles have reversed. Robert Baratheon and his man of choice might sit on the Iron Throne. They might run the Seven Kingdoms, but they know where the crown, where the power, truly lies.”

“Seven Kingdoms united in fear of Tywin Lannister.” Robb repeated the famous saying. “I don’t think you’ll find the North afraid.”

“Only because you haven’t met him yet,” (Y/n) smiled to herself. “If they don’t fear him when he arrives, they will by the time he leaves, just as they do everywhere else.”

(Y/n) pushed herself to her feet. She took a moment to brush her skirts back down into position and rid them of any obvious dirt. Then, Robb watched her turn and walk away, calling back over her shoulder, “When you see Lannister banners on the horizon of Winterfell tomorrow, watch the King.”

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The banners of House Lannister broke the horizon, signifying the approach of the Warden of the West.

The only thought in Robert’s mind was that this would surely be the day he died. Robert might be a fool, but he wasn’t so mad as Aerys to think that Tywin Lannister ever truly came in peace.

Tywin had taken the lives of every man, woman, and child from two of the Westerlands’ richest and oldest houses, and he had done so with a smile. All over some gold that was a drop in the bucket to House Lannister’s riches. Tywin had sacked King’s Landing and slaughtered the royal family, including his oldest friend, because Aerys forced him to remarry a beautiful young woman. Slights by comparison to Robert’s offense.

Robert Baratheon had struck the Lady of Casterly Rock, Tywin’s daughter and youngest child, in front of her mate, the Heir to Winterfell no less. She still bore the bruise.

At the least, Tywin would have his offending hand. At the worst, he would end Robert’s dynasty. Robert feared both were within the Lannister’s grasp.

As (Y/n) had told him to do, Robb watched his namesake. Robert Baratheon was a large man and a warrior at heart. He had long grown fat and let himself go with the pressures of the crown and the grief of his loss, but that hadn’t made him any less the man who killed Rhaegar Targaryen.

Robb thought Robert was not one to be easily intimidated, but as he watched, he saw the Baratheon’s stern face begin to crack. He saw what (Y/n) had sent him searching for. Fear. The King of the Seven Kingdoms was afraid of Tywin Lannister.

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crusherthedoctor · 5 years

Text

In the Hall of the Would Be King

“Hmm...”

“No, that won't work...”

“Too similar...”

“Not using another brainless monster, not without a catch...”

“If I can find another Conch... Nah...”

“I could just steal the Master Emerald again...”

"Maybe I can use Metal's copied data samples for something...”

"Refine the Slow-Down Shoes perhaps...?”

In his newest lab, surrounded by faint darkness, the aspiring conquerer was hard at work on a new plan to ensure his domination... or at least, he would be hard at work, if he didn't have schemer's block. Though the doctor had many ideas circling around in his head, he dismissed each of them for one reason or another, having taken their chances of working out - or lack thereof - into account. Needless to say, he was not in the cheeriest of mindsets as a result.

“Maybe a virus would do the trick, I haven't tried that sort of method before...” Eggman mused to himself, tapping his pencil idly against the desk where his currently empty sheets of paper were positioned. Normally his papers would be used up with elaborate thoughts and schematics, but this was not the case today. Not a single bullet point or diagram could be found on any of them. He frowned as he stroked his chin in thought. “But such a thing would take ages to prepare, and it could easily escape my control if I'm not careful... bah...”

He lightly tossed his pencil aside, and he slumped on his chair, his wide moustache drooping just a little. He hated it when his imagination came to a road block. Not just because it meant he couldn't be productive with his time and brainwaves, but also because it would pave the way instead for more time to reflect on... him.

He tiredly rubbed his hairless cranium at the mere thought of that meddlesome hedgehog, the one who had thwarted his expertly devised plans, and his immaculately constructed machines, every single time, for what felt like generations. Everything about that hedgehog bothered him to no end. His ridiculous face, his endless taunting, his undeserved luck... How he loathed him so... And how he loathed those irritating theories spread about how he secretly liked him and would regret defeating him for good.

Absolute nonsense, he thought, with a loud bristle of his 'stache. Far as he's concerned, any respect towards the hedgehog is purely on an academic level, directed towards his power and the admittedly entertaining challenge he brings. On a personal level, he wants nothing less than to see his cocky mug six feet under at the bottom of the ocean, and that will never change one iota. He may like his fun, but he's always been serious about obtaining his empire. Why would he go out of his way to postpone his own victory?

“Confound that Sonic,” Eggman quietly muttered, a sneer visibly planting itself on his face. “No matter what I whip up, the conclusion remains the same. How does he always win? What is it I'm missing...? What miscalculation...”

True, he had underestimated his nemesis a couple of times in the past, and the same applied to the hedgehog's increasing number of colorful aquaintances. But he's gotten wiser over time, on top of his already established scientific brilliance, so why did Sonic remain the eternal victor even now?

The doctor scoffed, as he crossed his arms in a muted huff. Surely it couldn't be because of all those friends the hedgehog had. Not when half of his victories were on his own. Not when Eggman himself had far more resources than all of them combined. Not when half the time, Knuckles was on his side, although to be fair, that trick stopped working quite a while ago. And yet... Sonic does always go on about how friendship is everything to him... That's why he's always spouting drivel about teamwork, right?

Maybe the argument of strength in comrades had some degree of logic to it, even if only a little. Sonic's closest sidekick does share a similarly impressive IQ, though still considerably below the doctor's own, in his generous and humble opinion. Since he entered the scene, Tails had always been making planes, ships, and all other sorts of technological doodads, and though they would rarely rival the sheer scale of Eggman's own contraptions, the fox boy's expertise in his own right could not be denied. Though he despised the fox just as much as he did the fox's idol, Eggman could admit that with Tails, he would always be guaranteed an intellectual back and forth. More than can be said for Sonic, who preferred to speak in outdated catchphrases that he could never comprehend the utter inanity of.

Eggman's sneer loosened, as he contemplated further, though it didn't disappear entirely. His biggest dream had always been to be recognised as the best and most beloved genius there ever was. Yet for all his efforts, everyone feared and hated him, because what, he fires a missile at the occasional city? He corrupts the occasional alien species into violent monsters? He pays the occasional media to publicly slander the hedgehog and his friends? Meanwhile, that loathesome piñata of spines was always the one who gained everyone's love and respect with minimum effort... the love and respect that belonged to him.

Why couldn't anyone on this entire globe see that he should be the one everyone should idolize. That he should be the one everyone should parade around like a reclaimed treasure. That he should be the one everyone wants to be friends with-

“How's the plan coming along, doc?”

“BUZZ OFF.”

“Alright then, see ya,” Cubot casually mumbled with a salute, as he left the room as quickly as he entered it.

He turned his head back to his empty papers, very much agitated. His mood was always at its worst when Sonic was on the brain, to the surprise of few. So what if Sonic was the world's fastest thing alive? Eggman was the world's greatest scientist alive. Making new innovations and paving the way for a better future (from a certain point of view) was far more worthy of high esteem than simply running around with your arms outstretched like an airplane. Stupid animal, wrecking apart his glorious monuments of technology like they're nothing.

Still, what monuments of technology they were...

He thought back to when he created the Egg Dragoon, and how he and Sonic - in an alternate and frankly bizarre form - duked it out towards the heart of the world. Despite the outcome being the same as most of their battles, he looked back fondly on the memory, if only because he remained proud of that particular creation in spite of its untimely demise. Why wouldn't he? It had more weapons than you could shake a ring at, its design was awe-inspiring without compromising its practical purposes, AND it could withstand the extreme temperatures of the planet's core with no issue whatsoever. It was one of his biggest breakthroughs, and this was a man who considered everything he ever made a breakthrough.

Well, almost everything. The Egg Dealer was made on an off day.

His lips curled into a smile, and he rested his legs on his desk, crossing them after the fact. As he clasped his hands by his rotund chest, he lifted his mood back up as his thoughts shifted from his enemy to his achievements. He was so delighted to finally bring Eggmanland to life that same day. He never quite decided on what exactly he wanted it to be as the years went by - one day it would be a city, the next day it would be a theme park - but when it finally went under construction, he was more than happy with the results by jamming all his ideas for it together. Sonic may have ultimately conquered it, but at least he got to see his much longed paradise in the metallic flesh for a brief moment... and it certainly wasn't an easy endeavor for the accursed pincushion regardless. He made sure of that much.

The Death Egg was another one he always had a soft spot for, no matter how many times Sonic sent it plummeting. It was the doctor's first project of such a scale, and its design remained emblematic of everything the mad scientist stood for... himself, and nothing else. Simplicity can do just fine sometimes. He laughed merrily as he recalled all his additional Death Eggs, and all his additional spacecraft that might as well have been the Death Egg, like the Cosmic Angel, and the Egg Utopia. He always did like the view from space... mainly because he got to look over what he considered his kingdom.

Sonic always questioned how he constantly had the money to make all his material, particularly his intimidating doomsday devices, and his consistently oversized fortresses. Alas, that would remain his secret. But who said he was shortsighted enough to only have a single means of obtaining his investments...? For all his childish habits, he was remarkably shrewd when it came to maintaining his finances. He would certainly hope so, that's for sure. What sight would be more embarrassing than a revolutionary without a penny?

And of course, there was Metal Sonic. Still one of his finest inventions to date, and track record of defeats aside, time and advancements have only reaffirmed that in a way. He remembered how unashamedly excited he was when he first witnessed his prized subject in action, particularly after witnessing its raw speed, having realised he had successfully created something that would give even its flesh and blood copy a run for his money in the very field he prided himself on. There was a reason that whereas other models and units came and went, Metal always remained by his side. He was undoubtedly a special robot to Eggman, and questionable though it may be, he eventually grew to see Metal as something of a son... Ironic, given who he was based on.

In fact, in retrospect, Eggman couldn't even bring himself to reflect that angrily on the Egg Fleet takeover, for as utterly humiliating as the experience was for him at the time, it at least validated the genius of Metal's programming, and how it brought the copycat's power to new heights.

Not sure what his appearance was going for at the time, though. That was a bit too tacky even for him to stomach. And you know, a betrayal's a betrayal, so he still had to be taught a lesson. He was only slightly more forgiving when it turned out that Metal had simply overloaded with all that power, as opposed to him actively calculating to upstage his master. He made sure that wouldn't happen again if the robot underwent any future upgrades... both the overloading and the poor fashion sense.

Even so, Metal was a testament to artificial intelligence, and a pinnacle of robotics. The doctor leaned back on his chair once more, cackling some more, followed by a sigh of satisfaction. He's made so many great things over the years, hasn't he? Of course he has. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be Ivo Robotnik, would he?

Suddenly, he paused, as his own surname flashed through his mind.

And with that soon came the memory of a different Robotnik altogether. That being, of course, his long departed grandfather.

His face quickly changed once again, this time neither happy nor angry.

Instead... there was conflict.

Once upon a time, he had nothing but praise for the memory of Gerald Robotnik, citing him as the inspiration to try his own hand at the world of science in the first place. Bloodline aside, perhaps it was no coincidence that they looked so strikingly alike. As a kid, he never actually saw Gerald in person, as the latter's occupation meant he was constantly hard at work on the latest concept that would revolutionize the world. Even so, he knew how amazing he was, and he admired all the intellectual prowess that he showed in his lifetime, even if he didn't particularly care for the whole "benefit of mankind" side of it.

But after that incident aboard the A.R.K... his thoughts weren't quite the same since then. He hated having to team up with that wretched hedgehog in order to ensure he had a world to conquer, as the one thing a genius like him hates more than even Sonic is having no control over anything. But his resentment over the incident went deeper than that. He still admired Gerald's intelligence, and still pointed to it as what led to the man that he is today, but the idea that his own grandfather may not have given a second thought about his own extremely gifted grandson's demise in the fallout of the A.R.K's collision course... was not an easy reality for him to consider. Even if they never met each other per say, did he really mean that little to Gerald?

And all because of his despair over Maria, the other grandchild...

The lesser one, Eggman thought bitterly, as he clenched his fist on the desk in a deceptively tranquil fit of stress. While Gerald was always too busy for young Ivo (and come to think of it, so were his parents, though that didn't matter as much), he had all the time in the world for Maria. Supposedly because of some illness or other that he dedicated his life to finding a cure for... but still, why did he hold her up high on a pedestal so much? Granted, Eggman never knew his cousin that well either, but what did she do to deserve it? SHE wasn't the one who made advanced automations during their school years, and anyway, if it hadn't been for her, Gerald wouldn't have gone insane and came close to wiping HIM from existence.

The doctor had no physical memorabilia of his grandfather, and it was always a secret desire to have at least one photo, no matter how old. But he also realised that even if he had one, it would have a likely chance of including the golden-haired child right beside him. For the sake of not having to witness the apparent bias at work, that was not designed in his own favor, perhaps it was for the best.

As he slumped further on his egg-shaped chair, he recalled to his own misfortune that it wasn't simply Maria on her own. By all accounts, Gerald seemed to favor another child over him as well... his pet project, to be exact. The Ultimate Lifeform.

The doctor's feelings on Shadow were every bit as messy, complicated, and a touch regretful. On one hand, he hated Shadow just like the rest. For making a fool out of him and causing the A.R.K. fallout to begin with, and for subsequently going on to join G.U.N. and oppose him alongside all those other anthropomorphic piles of sassy misery... along with that worthless traitor, E-123 Omega. His entire routine with the Shadow Androids was in part an act of petty revenge, to make the black hedgehog feel like a fool himself. An eye for an eye, as they say.

But at the same time... it didn't have to be this way. Eggman was perfectly aware that Shadow wasn't entirely on a different wavelength from him. Despite their dissimilar attitudes, their views were often in-tune with each other, and if there's one thing Eggman likes, it's when someone agrees with him wholeheartedly. They were both smart, and they could both see the grander picture. Not to mention their somewhat familial relation, even if they weren't literally related by blood. They agreed that the world had its issues, and the situation with Gerald was something that caused problems for both of them. It was also no secret that Shadow wasn't necessarily on buddy ol' pal terms with Sonic, especially when compared to the likes of the pink hedgehog, whose endless fawning never ceased to evade the doctor's approval and understanding. By all means, Shadow would understand Eggman's need for control, right...? Would he not take up the offer to help spread that control, and purge the world and beyond of all that could stand in the way of progression...?

No, it would seem not. Shadow considered Eggman's ideas a step too far into the realm of moral depravity (and perhaps absurdity), and never hesitated to inform him of that in blunt terminology. In Shadow's eyes, Eggman may be Professor Gerald's successor, but deep down, he was more comparable to Black Doom. Nothing more than scum in its purest form. At least, that was the impression that the doctor was given ever since the Ultimate Lifeform switched sides.

Is it possible... If he were still alive, and had he not gone off the deep end...

Would Gerald have felt the same way as his creation...?

Would he have disapproved of his grandson's actions...?

Would he have cast doubt on the path he's chosen in life...?

...Hmph. Who cares. What does it matter, when he ended up hardly a perfect bastion of selflessness either...

Eggman sighed to himself, born out of simultaneous acceptance and resignation. After all the time that had passed since the incident, it was still as clear as yesterday to him. He was forced to learn that day that for all his strengths, Gerald Robotnik was flawed like any other being... and those flaws came at Eggman's own expense, which was the important thing. He rested his elbows on his desk with his uniquely shaped head in his hands, almost prepared to sleep the night away to escape the depressing reality surrounding his childhood hero's shortcomings. No one was perfect, except himself.

Besides, he reasoned. Even Gerald apparently failed to unlock the mystery of the Ethereal Zone...

………...

Wait.

Eggman slowly raised his head, as if a light bulb inside had just been set to maximum. His body tensed up. There was no obvious emotion on his face, and yet the glint in his glasses seemed to shine that little bit more as he processed his fresh revelation. After a brief period of uneasy silence, sitting as still as a statue...

He catapulted from his chair without warning, and almost broke the door open to the right of his lab with his surprising strength, revealing a flight of stairs that descended into the unknown. He rushed down the stairs like a madman, his feet gliding faster than all those times he escaped the blue hedgehog on foot, yet he did not stumble for a second, for despite his sudden frantic behaviour, he was very much focused. He went further and further down, the shadows below inviting him to continue the path that suggested great promise... or damnation.

Though he would have taken the time to admire the gargantuan portraits of himself on the walls in any other instance, each of them in their own over-enthusiastic poses, he neglected to take a moment to do even that, such was the speed of his feet as well as his brain. When he finally got to the bottom, he slammed a second door wide open, which revealed what appeared to be a personal library of sorts, filled to the brim with notes and publications about a wide variety of subjects that, with a few exceptions, nonetheless pertained mostly to science and history. Even in this personal library, a magnificent golden statue of his own self stood tall in the middle of the room, its muscular arms holding up the roof as if it were the mighty Atlas, complete with a flattering six pack that was, let's say, visually ambiguous on the real doctor's own person.

Eggman scanned the rows of books to no end, his concealed eyes darting left and right at a speed worthy of his nemesis. He sprinted towards the row furthest on the left, starting from A and working from there. Most of his books were made by a certain author that he was very familiar with, right down to inhabiting his body, but he possessed some of the late Gerald's documents as well here and there. The more he thought about it, there was that one that he never got around to reading. He had obtained it way back in the day... must have been around the time of the Flicky Island siege... but if he remembered the cover correctly, he was absolutely certain it related to what just clicked in his head. It wasn't about the Ultimate Lifeform, or his Prototype, or the Chaos units, or the Black Arms, or the Gizoid, or even the A.R.K. itself… it was something else entirely, of which he only knew the name of. And though Gerald's pursuits were often connected to each other, this one might have been before all that...?

“Is there something you need, doctor?” asked the timely arrival of Orbot, as he made his own way down the stairs in a mild hurry. “I heard a spot of noise a moment ago, and...”

He already concluded that the doctor wasn't listening, as he was much too focused on finding that one book. He paced along the aisles like a hungry tiger, yet his eyes were glancing up and down repeatedly, faster and faster. It wasn't in the A aisle, wasn't in the B aisle, nor in the C aisle, or the D... Wisp books... Little Planet books... cooking books... where was it, he thought to himself in a jumbled combination of giddiness and frustration that frequently clashed with each other by the second. He gritted his teeth slightly. Where was that one blasted book. He swore to himself that if Cubot lost it, or if he placed it out of alphabetical order in the wrong aisle - even by the second letter - then he would gladly rearrange his scrapped remains into a Dreamcast so functional that he could play Skies of Spagonia on-

...No. That won't be necessary. Not today. For it finally came into view, in the G aisle, thankfully the correct placement in this case. Fitted tightly between the sleeper hit of “The Games of Dr. Eggman”, and the somewhat rarer “The Glory of Man: An Ivo Robotnik Story”, sat one lone book... a hefty one from the looks of it, even compared to those by its immediate left and right. Using the uncanny length of his right arm, he effortlessly picked it out, its weight resulting in no visible strain on his part. Not even a second into looking at the cover, he could already tell for sure that this was the very one, as it was marked with a rather beautiful array of different colours, almost every colour of the rainbow at that. It was capped off with sharp white outlines that appeared to resemble translucent crystals, each complex outline forming a circle all together, like the shining rays of the sun. The title, in thick white bold, was upfront about its subject:

The Gems of Heaven, by Professor Gerald Robotnik A study of Viridonia and its phenomena

Without a word, he scrambled through the pages, not giving the slightest concern towards the proud history of this region, nor its sights, nor its cultures... only one thing was on his mind, which was already beginning to make a sinister calculation even at this primordial moment. Flashes of colour were passing through the pages, with photos so awe inspiring that anyone else would have taken a moment to savor… Until at last, his speedy page turning came to a very abrupt halt. It was as if time itself grieved. He found the part he was looking for... to the unknown regret of the rest of the population...

“Is something wrong?” Orbot asked, more timidly this time. He was facing the back of his creator, and he had no idea what mood he was in, though given what he overheard earlier at Cubot's expense, he could have made an easy guess. The master still didn't respond, what with his intense fixation on what he was reading. Despite the plentiful amount of pages dedicated to the chapter in question, his mental process was breezing through it. His eyes finally slowed down, and he took the time to read it through a second time, though still rather quickly compared to that of the average person.

All of a sudden, he closed the book shut. It made a notable echo in the room, enough to make his servant flinch. His shoulders rose a single time, then relaxed back down, as if a weight had been lifted off of them.

“Doctor...?”

“We have work to do,” Eggman finally answered. His voice was calm... uncharacteristically so. “A lot of work. Perhaps I shall rebuild some old friends to help us out... In the meantime, set a course for Viridonia, immediately.”

“Viridonia? Never heard of that one... whatever, got it,” Orbot complied without argument. “Let's just hope Sonic doesn't obtain another new pesky friend to his collection when he inevitably catches on to us, hmm?” He was about to head back upstairs, but he hesitated for a moment, and raised a finger as he turned back to the doctor. “You are okay though, right doctor?”

Eggman stood still for a few seconds, though Orbot could see his head raising ever so slightly. He slowly turned to the robot's direction, counter clockwise... and with it, a perfect grin on his face. Orbot had seen that maniacal grin so many times before, so surely he would be used to it... Yet in his heart of circuits - maybe it was due to how it glistened in the shadows - he could immediately sense that something was off with this one... more than usual anyway... He didn't like it.

This was it, the scientist thought.

With uncontested proof, everyone would at last be left with no argument, as they finally witness the day.

The day he officially surpasses his grandfather to the world.

Even if the world has to suffer for it.

“Never felt better.”

#Crusher's Fanfiction #Sonic the Hedgehog #Dr. Ivo Robotnik #Fanfiction

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