#(( this is a very vague and oddly deep conversation)) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teaandfiction-28 · 2 years ago

Note

Smut #9 please

Thanks Anon - here you go, hope you enjoy 🙂

—————————

Prompt: "No panties?"

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, Smut [18+ Only]

Timeline: Set between C12 and C13 of ‘Perfect Storm’

Kate had been to Molly’s a handful of times in the few months she’d been in Chicago but she had never seen it as crowded as it was tonight. It seemed as though every cop, firefighter, doctor and nurse in the city was packed into the blue bar to ring in the New Year, including the entirety of the Intelligence Unit who were crowded around the little table near the back, half-empty pitchers of beer and fluorescent concoctions that vaguely resembled cocktails littering the rustic wood.

“Jesus Christ, what did Hermann put in this thing? It’s like diabetes in a glass!” Kate grumbled with a wince, her entire upper body jerking as the sweet yet oddly bitter liquid trickled down her throat.

“Careful kid, few more of those and you won’t make midnight.” Alvin warned, taking a long swig from his beer.

The juke box in the corner had been blaring out party classics from across the decades all night and, as Kate watched Mouch and Trudy throw some odd-looking shapes on the makeshift dance floor, she found herself flinching beneath the sudden vice-like grip that Erin had on her forearm, turning confused eyes to her friend at the quick flash of pain.

“Ow! The fuck-”

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Kate’s eyes flicked to the doorway where Erin’s were trained on the lone figure that had just slipped in from the cold, his hair and jacket dusted with snowflakes.

“Whoa...” Adam breathed, lowering his beer back to the table slowly as Hank ambled towards them, unwinding a charcoal grey scarf from around his neck, coming to a stop at the corner of their table.

“Room for one more?”

It was widely known that Hank Voight didn’t really do social gatherings and he absolutely did not frequent Molly’s Bar often given his tumultuous history with the ex-firehouse 51 Captain so his presence on the busiest night of the year was most definitely a surprise.

As the shuffling commenced to make space for their fearless leader, Kate couldn’t take her eyes off him as he shed his heavy winter coat, revealing a well-fitting navy shirt that she instantly recognised as the very same shirt she had thrown on a few days prior when she had shuffled into his kitchen to make them coffee before they’d headed into the district…in separate cars, of course.

He slipped onto the stool next to her, thigh pressing tight against hers in the confined space as Jay poured him a beer, the detective’s face a picture of disbelief as he slid the glass across the table towards him.

“Not that I'm not pleased to see you but what’s all this made of?” Erin asked, giving her pseudo-father a gentle nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

Hank simply hiked a casual shoulder. “Didn’t feel like stayin’ in.”

He knew she didn’t believe a word that he’d said but he couldn’t exactly tell her that he had been going out of his mind sitting home alone knowing that she was going to be in a bar full of rowdy men looking drop-dead gorgeous. And he hadn’t been wrong. He immediately sought her out the second he’d entered the room, eyes soaking in the way her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, the shades of chestnut and honey melting together beneath the dim, twinkling lights. As he’d approached their table and slipped onto the stool next to her, he noticed that she’d forgone the usual jeans and shirt combo and, in its place, was a pair of skin-tight black flared pants and a shimmery blouse that, upon closer inspection, was actually just a scrap of sheer fabric covering a black lacy bra.

As the night wore on and the New Year drew closer, the rest of the table were deep in conversation when Hank finally turned toward Kate, his mouth brushing against her ear as he leaned in close.

“You look sensational tonight.”

He couldn’t stop the wry grin when her face instantly blushed at his husked complement, her eyes darting around the table as though the simple act of sitting too close would immediately give away their little secret. It had been two weeks since he’d ignored the voice in his head telling him what a colossal mistake he was making by taking his subordinate home and, so far, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to regret his decision one bit. The sex had been incredible but it was the little moments of quiet laughter and idle conversation in between that had really hammered home just how much he enjoyed her company.

“So do you. You know how much of a fan I am of that shirt.” She replied with a sexy wink, hiding her smirk of amusement behind the rim of her glass when payback was returned in kind and the very tips of his ears flushed an adorable shade of pink. “Didn’t think you were coming.”

She had slipped into his office just before leaving the district under the guise of handing him some paperwork to ask him one more time if he wanted to join them for the evening but, as she’d expected, he had declined her offer and told her to have a good time before shooing her out with the rest of the unit. He had barely been home a couple of hours when he realised that the reason he couldn’t focus on the Blackhawks game was because he was restless...and he was restless because he missed her.

Aside from her brief trip back to New Haven over the holidays, they had barely spent a night apart in the last two weeks and he was surprised by how quickly he’d become accustomed to having her around after hours.

“You changed my mind.” He mumbled dryly, giving her a subtle wink as he dropped a hand beneath the table to smooth over her thigh, giving the flesh a gentle squeeze before returning his hand back to the table.

Casting a brief glance around the table to make sure everybody’s eyes were still on Capp who was dancing in the middle of bar lassoing his shirt over his head, Kate leaned in and brushed her lips against the shell of Hank’s ear, her mouth tugging into a sly grin when he visibly trembled at the featherlight touch.

“Huh...I wonder what else I can change your mind about?”

“Hey Kate! Think it’s your round.”

Kate jerked away from Hank as though she’d been burned but thankfully Adam didn’t seem to notice given that he had inadvertently doused a pretty brunette with the dregs of his beer as she made her way to the bathroom. Clearing her throat, Kate pushed away from the table and began gathering some of the empties that were littering wooden surface.

“Wanna give me a hand Sarg?” She suggested lightly, hoping to God her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt under Alvin’s knowing gaze, his intelligent brown eyes darting between the two of them as though he was putting together a particularly easy jigsaw puzzle.

They kept a respectable distance as they made their way to the bar and, given how crowded it was, Hank opted to stand at Kate’s back rather than try and elbow into a space at her side. Soon enough the line was at least three deep and Hank found himself pressed against the length of her spine, his hand instinctively dropping to her hip so that he didn’t crush her against the heavy wood.

Ever the opportunist, he found himself surreptitiously smoothing the palm of his hand over the soft curve of her hip, the pads of his fingers searching for the ridge of the black lace panties he knew she preferred but, despite his thorough exploration, he came up empty.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for.”

“Really? No panties?” He growled quietly in her ear, both of his eyebrows almost hitting his hairline when she reached back and cupped the front of his jeans in her palm, giving the gradually growing bulge a firm squeeze. She was peering up at him through her thick lashes, bright hazel eyes alight with a combination of amusement and arousal and he couldn’t help but draw comparison to how she looked when she was on her knees, her mouth stretched into a perfect ‘o’ around his thick cock.

“Take me home later and you’ll find out.”

His grunted curse was lost in the noise when Hermann arrived with their round of drinks that they dutifully carried back to the table where the unit were roaring with laughter at something Antonio had said before they arrived.

As the minutes ticked closer to midnight, the thick sexual tension between them continued to coil like a spring, leaving the both of them more turned on than they would ever like to be in the presence of colleagues. But soon enough the countdown to midnight began and, as the clock struck twelve, a chorus of ‘Happy New Year’ rang out through the bar, strangers, lovers and everything in between exchanging hugs and kisses in celebration of successfully seeing in yet another year.

When Kate finally freed herself from Kevin’s death grip, she found herself face to face with Hank, the two of them simply staring at one another for a few long beats before he finally pulled her into an easy embrace.

“Happy New Year sweetheart.” He mumbled in her ear, being sure to release her before he succumbed to the urge to seal his mouth over hers and very publicly claim her as his own.

At a quarter to one, Kate was more than ready to head home but Hank was nowhere to be seen so, giving a very tipsy Erin a quick peck on the cheek, she pulled on her coat and headed towards the back exit, figuring she would get some air while she texted him to let her know she was ready to go.

The frigid air took her breath away as she stepped out onto the frozen sidewalk but, before she could hit send on the incredibly naughty text she had drafted, somebody gripped her by the shoulders and forced her into a secluded alcove, a familiar scent invading her senses as a warm body pressed her flush against the icy bricks. His lips were on hers before she could get a word out, tongue tracing the seam of her mouth in a silent bid for entry that she willingly granted, her moan of satisfaction muffled by his soft lips.

“My place or yours?” He grumbled when he eventually tore his mouth away, throughly enjoying the way her entire body seemed to shiver beneath his touch.

“Yours. Closer.” She breathed against his lips, chilled fingers clutching the lapels of his jacket so that she could tug him in for another heart-stopping kiss, her hips instinctively rolling against his in search of sweet friction.

Although the journey from Molly’s to his place was less than ten minutes, when you had a beautiful woman running her tongue along the shell of your ear and her hands were caressing your inner thigh, a ten minute car ride suddenly felt like a lifetime. They stumbled through the front door in a frantic tangle of limbs, both of them breathing heavy as layers of clothing were carelessly tossed to the ground en route to the bedroom.

By the time Kate had Hank pinned to the mattress, they were both shirtless and Hank’s hands were blindly searching for the hidden zip on her pants, eventually locating the tiny metal slider on her left hip. When he got the zipper down and the skin-tight fabric fell away from her body, he caught a glimpse of the tiniest black thong he had ever set eyes on, the thin strip of elastic sitting high in the subtle curves of her waist.

“Jesus Kate...this even worth it?”He groaned heatedly, easing an index finger beneath the elastic just above her hipbone as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses down his chest.

“It was very expensive, I’ll have you know.” She muttered with a coy smirk, pushing to her feet and shimmying out her trousers before turning her attention back to Hank who was propped up on his elbows, his legs hanging over the side of the bed as he intently watched every move she made.

Sinking to her knees, she smoothed her palms over his denim-clad thighs, making short work of the belt, button and zipper before looping her fingers into the waistband and tugging both the denim and his boxers down to his knees. Her eyes flicked up the length of his body as she pressed slow, almost-reverent kisses along his inner thighs, gradually working her way to where he was desperately aching for her touch. Hank was a man with a remarkable amount of self-restraint but three hours-worth of public foreplay had really done a number on him and he was already rock hard and slick with excitement.

The moment she took him in hand and licked a long, slow stripe from the base of his cock all the way to the flushed head, he released a shaky groan of satisfaction but the sight of such a strong, independent woman on her knees before him was a dangerously potent aphrodisiac; one that he could easily find himself getting addicted to if he wasn’t careful. Driving a hand into her hair, he fisted her wavy locks into a makeshift ponytail so that he had an unrestricted view of his thick shaft disappearing between her plump lips, her bright hazel eyes locking with his as she took him deep into her mouth, tongue fluttering beneath the sensitive head with each withdrawal.

His expletive-filled groan was directed at the ceiling as his head dropped back in pleasure, his chest heaving as he frantically fought to retain what what left of his self-control. Sensing he was close, Kate slipped him from her mouth with a quiet ‘pop’ and slithered her way along his body until she was once again straddling is waist, the hot, hard length of him sliding against her core. Resting an elbow just above his shoulder, Kate slid a palm up and over his chest, securing his jaw in her hand as she sealed her mouth over his in a lusty, tongue-filled kiss.

Hank busied himself unsnapping her bra as she reached over to rummage around in the nightstand for a condom, tearing open the square foil packet and sheathing him in latex with a wry grin on her face as his stomach muscles rippled in response to her gentle touch. With a final peck on his lips, she adjusted the minuscule scrap of lace at the juncture of her thighs and lined the wide crest of him with her opening, slowly sinking down until he was nestled impossibly deep inside of her. His hands darted to her hips to hold her steady, the familiar tingle of pleasure zinging down his spine as she ground her hips against his in smooth, languid circles, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as his thick shaft dragged along every sensitive spot within her.

“Fuck Hank...feel so fucking good.” She groaned, fingernails carving deep grooves into his chest as she writhed above him, her movements becoming sharp and jagged.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Hank skated a palm over her torso to cup one pert breast in his hand, fingers tugging at her sensitive nipple while the other settled at the apex of her thighs, the pad of his thumb brushing tight circles around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her entire body was already vibrating with arousal and, as she leaned backwards and braced both hands on his thighs, the change in angle had bright white lights flashing behind her eyelids, the muscles in her legs and abdomen quivering with exertion.

Hank was meeting her thrust for thrust and, with a few heated words of encouragement, her body clamped down on him like a velvet vice and she came with a broken cry, her back arching as waves of pleasure ricocheted down her spine. The sight of her body trembling above him, her chest flushed and sheening with sweat had Hank sliding his hands to her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh, his hips surging from the mattress as he chased his own release. The familiar coil of tension low in his belly eventually snapped as he reached his peak, yanking Kate down until he was buried to the hilt inside of her, his heart hammering against his ribs in time with every spurt of white-hot release.

Kate toppled forwards into his waiting arms with a quiet groan, her cheek pressed to his damp chest as she listened intently to the steady thud of his heart beating beneath her ear. Her inner walls continued to pulse and flutter sporadically around him as they enjoyed the quiet afterglow, gooseflesh beginning to prickle over her skin beneath his gentle ministrations.

“Hank?”

He hummed in response, stroking his fingertips along her dewy spine, quite content to spend the rest of the night pinned beneath her luscious body if she’d let him. She shifted slightly in his arms, her nose nuzzling against his throat as she pushed a soft kiss to his damp skin.

“Happy New Year baby.”

#hank voight #chicago pd #one chicago #hank voight smut #hank voight imagine #hank voight fluff #hank voight x ofc #hank voight one shot #chicago pd fanfiction #hank voight fanfiction #writer #fanfic #prompt

67 notes · View notes

dreamerstreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Lucky in Love

Pairing: poly!Dream Team x gn!reader

Summary: [Soulmate!AU] It’s one thing to meet your soulmate in a lottery, and another to have more than just one. But when you end up winning Dream’s Minecraft Manhunt raffle, you find your world turning upside down in ways you least expect.

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: behold, my first commissioned story! this story has been altered from it’s original form so everyone can read it, but the majority of the plot and writing remain the same. i had a lot of fun writing it, and i hope you all like it! <3

You stumbled into your bedroom with a yelp, your thumb flying across your phone screen to the home button and pressing gently. With a gleam, the time flashed back at you, and your eyes shot wide open.

You were going to be late.

Leaning forward on one leg, you pushed the door behind you shut with your foot, bouncing forward as soon as you heard it click shut. Your eyes swept across the room, your gaze catching on a swath of black cloth sitting at the foot of your bed. With a quirk of your lips, you tugged the shirt off the mattress before turning on your heel. Darting to the other side of the room, you easily settled back into your desk chair and let the shirt drop onto your thighs.

Grabbing your mouse, you moved your cursor to the YouTube bookmark at the top of your screen, your computer screen instantaneously flooding with light. You scrolled over to the left side of your screen, your mouse hovering over a familiar green icon before clicking, a new box popping into view.

Stream starting in 60... 59... 58... 57...

You felt your lungs tighten within your rib cage, your toes curling ever so slightly into the floor. It had been a nerve-wracking month of waiting and pacing, crossing each day off the calendar with an anxious grin. You almost couldn’t believe that the day had finally arrived. Letting out one last breath, you leaned forward, the t-shirt feeling heavy in your lap.

3... 2... 1...

All of a sudden, the screen went dark. Your reflection stared back at you from the dim screen, your excited eyes peering back at yourself with a curious glint. Reaching up, you brush an unkempt lock of hair away from your forehead, just in time for two familiar faces and a lime green icon to appear.

The Dream Team.

“Hey, guys!” Dream said, his voice sounding like a breath of fresh air. “How are you all doing?”

A flurry of hearts flew across the live chat screen, the lines moving by so quickly that you couldn’t tell when one message ended and another started. Practically bouncing in your seat, you couldn’t help the smile that skittered across your cheeks.

“Good,” you whispered aloud to yourself in the quiet of your room. You knew that they couldn’t hear you when you talked like that, that they wouldn’t know you had even replied at all, but it made their streams feel a little more lively nonetheless.

After a brief pause, Dream’s voice filtered through the air once more, just as bright and eager as it was earlier. “Good? I hope the answer is good.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart flipping in your chest as your fingers curled into the shirt in your lap. That sort of thing happened sometimes: a streamer would say something and your verbal response almost made it feel like they were actually holding a conversation, like they were actually with you right now. These sorts of things were always a coincidence, but when everything in your world was connected by fate, sometimes you let yourself be a little hopeful, let yourself imagine that maybe it wasn’t dumb luck—that maybe it actually meant something.

Hell, maybe it meant you could be soulmates.

Soulmates were a tricky thing to think about, really, even if everyone knew they existed and that one day, they would meet theirs. No one could pinpoint when exactly soulmates came to be, but no one rejected their presence either way. It wasn’t like they wanted to, anyways. To have a person who was perfect for you linked to you by the universe—it was no wonder people were more than pleased to discover they weren’t just some old lover’s tale.

But even then, some were skeptics. How would you really know when you had found your soulmate? What if you missed them by accident? For you at least, you already knew what it would feel like. You couldn’t count just how many times you had asked your mother that very question, but you could practically rattle off her words by heart.

“You’ll know exactly when it happens, I promise, sweetie,” she would murmur, stroking your head with a gentle hum and soft eyes. “When you first touch, it feels like... like you’ve been struck by lightning, and you’ll be tingly all over. Something inside you just sort of clicks when you look at them, and you’ll just—you’ll feel it right here.” She tapped her finger over your heart, a wistful expression settling across her face. “It’s... it’s magical, and you’ll never forget that feeling��not for the rest of your life.”

The smile that would tug on your mother’s lips made you all the more hopeful, a heavy yearning settling deep into the crevices of your heart as the years went by. Even now, as you sat watching Sapnap and George bicker with each other while Dream chimed in with a snarky remark, you felt that same fleeting hope rising up in your chest, warm and soft.

Maybe—just maybe—they might be your soulmates.

Not that they actually were, of course. You knew better than to get your hopes too high.

But as you watched Sapnap’s lean a little closer to his camera and listened to George’s breathy laugh, you felt your heart swell the tiniest bit.

Connected by fate or not, these boys were special to you, even if you had never met.

Sapnap blinked as his eyes darted across his monitor, raising his eyebrows with surprise as he let out a short whistle. “Oh, wow, we’re pulling... holy crap—over seven hundred thousand viewers, right now.” You could vaguely hear the scrolling of his mouse, his lips twitching. “Everyone sounds so excited in chat, too.”

George’s eyebrow quirked. “I mean, of course they are. Manhunts are loads of fun—who wouldn’t want to be a part of them?”

Sapnap’s face split into a teasing grin, and he leaned back in his chair. “Ooh, you sure sound cocky, George.”

George blinked once, then scowled. “Wha—shut up, it’s true! Why else would there be so many people here?”

A devilish gleam flickered across Sapnap’s gaze. “To see your pretty face, maybe.”

George’s frown deepened, his eyebrows knitting together into a glower. “Sapnap, you—”

“Look, look,” he cried, wagging his finger at his monitor, “even chat agrees!” His lips curled up into a smirk, mischievous and amused all at once. “You’re not gonna say chat is wrong, are you, Gogy?”

You could have sworn a hint of rose flushed across George’s cheeks as he averted his gaze from his camera, his voice coming out softer than before. “W-Well, I—”

“Boys, boys,” Dream suddenly cut in, George’s words trailing off in an instant. Despite the firmness of his words, there was an amused lilt to his tone, the smile evident in his voice. “You’re both pretty, alright, but can we please move on? I bet everyone’s dying to know who won.”

George opened his mouth, then let out a sigh, shaking his head with a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “You know what, Dream’s right. Let’s move on.”

Sapnap snickered on his side of the screen, still grinning widely. “You just can’t handle the truth.”

George groaned, deadpanning into the camera. “We are not starting this, again.”

Sapnap smiled, but didn’t get to speak before Dream cut him off. “You’re right,” he said, sounding a tad more hurried than before, “we’re not, because I’ve got the results, right here.”

You suddenly sat up, your heart stuttering. That same spark of hope fluttered up between your lungs, and you found yourself shuffling your chair forward, squinting in anticipation. Curiosity quivered around the edges of your mind, a certain eagerness pawing at your side as you watched a white pop-up fill the stream.

Everybody had an equal chance of winning—you knew that. That everyone may include you, but it also included every other person who bought one of those shirts. It didn’t take a genius to know that you weren't going to win. After all, not everything was guaranteed like having a soulmate was.

“And,” Dream began, dramatic and slow, “our winner is...”

You squeezed your hands, clasping your palms together with a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

“...shirt number 267815!”

You blinked, your brows furrowing together. That number sounded... oddly familiar. Your eyes flickered down to the shirt in your lap, the white tag peeking back up at you.

It couldn’t be.

All of a sudden, Dream’s voice rang through the air once more, sounding even clearer than ever before.

“Oh, and the name connected to the shirt is... [Y/N]!”

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your eyes shooting wide open as your jaw dropped.

I... won?

You gaped at your screen, only half-registering the sight of Sapnap and George clapping. The chat had become a blur of words you couldn’t bring yourself to read, your vision growing hazy and unfocused with shock. I must look crazy right now, you thought to yourself distantly, rubbing at your face. This can’t be real.

George’s gaze locked directly onto the camera, and for a second, it almost felt like he was speaking directly to you. “Congratulations, [Y/N]!” He wrinkled his nose with an apologetic smile. “I hope I’m saying that, right. If I’m wrong, please tell me.”

Sapnap chuckled, shooting him a devious grin. “Knowing George, he’s probably wrong.”

Your lips twitched at the frown that flitted across George’s face before Dream took over again. “Ignore them—they’re being dumb.” Before either of them could protest, he quickly added, “Anyways, welcome to Minecraft Manhunt! We’re looking forward to meeting you. We’ll send you an email soon, and you can give us some more info there.”

You nodded at your monitor, your lips still parted in surprise. “We’ll be ending the stream now,” Dream continued, “but thanks so much for everyone else who participated. Your love and support mean the world to us!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and it sent a rush of warmth shooting down your spine. “[Y/N],” he murmured, suddenly sounding soft, “we’ll see you soon.”

As George and Sapnap waved one last time at their cameras with excited grins, you swallowed. Your heart rattled in your chest as the screen faded back to black, and you found yourself sitting face-to-face with your reflection once more.

You were right—you looked just as dumbfounded as you felt.

Slowly, you closed your mouth, lowering your gaze to the shirt in your lap. The axe that was laid out across your thighs somehow seemed brighter than it did before, almost as if someone had painted over it with a newer, shinier layer of white.

Lifting the shirt to your chest, you felt a wide grin tug at your lips—wider than any grin you had ever smiled before.

Maybe you were luckier than you thought.

Your finger hovered over the left button of your mouse, your breaths coming out shaky and short as they pumped through your lungs. The Discord call already had three icons waiting for you, and all you had to do was click to join them.

Breathe, [Y/N]. You’re only about to talk to three of your favourite content creators on the planet. It’ll be easy.

You paused, listening to the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not fooling anyone.

A groan rose in the back of your throat, and you hung your head in your hands for a long moment. “C’mon,” you whispered to yourself. “You can’t keep them waiting forever.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, then lifted your head, nodding once, then twice. Yes, okay—calm. I can be calm. Your finger twitched. Let’s do this.

Your hand reached back for your mouse, the cool plastic melding against your skin as your cursor hovered back over the call. Squeezing your eyes shut for just a second, you let your finger press down, a familiar ping echoing through your headphones. There was a beat of silence. Then, someone spoke.

“Hi! Hello!”

You jumped at that sound of Dream’s voice, your heart skipping a beat as you quickly reoriented yourself again. “H-Hi, there,” you said as calmly as you could muster.

“It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N]! I’m Dream.” There was a slight pause, then he added hesitantly, “Did I say that right, by the way? Your name, I mean.”

Your lips curled up into a smile, and you felt the tension seep out of your shoulders. “Yes, you got it right.”

You could almost imagine him grinning to himself triumphantly. “Perfect.”

A new voice suddenly jumped in, just as eager as Dream’s. “Don’t steal the spotlight already, Dream,” Sapnap whined, his icon flashing green. “There’s three of us, not just you.” Ignoring Dream’s quiet apology, he quickly moved on. “I’m Sapnap—it’s great to have you here.”

“And I’m George,” another voice added, his prominent accent sounding like honey in your ears.

Every ounce of anxiety you had been feeling earlier felt so far away now, their voices carrying your worries off over the horizon. “It’s nice to meet you all, too. My name’s [Y/N], but you already know who I am, don’t you?”

“Well,” George said, drawing out the vowel, “we may know a few things about you, but we don’t really know who you are—that’s something we want to hear from you.”

Sapnap made a noise of confirmation, his mouth moving at lightning speed as he suddenly began to fire off question after question. “Yeah, like, what’s your favourite flower? Or season? Which one of us do you think is the most handsome? Ooh, what about—”

“Woah, woah,” Dream cut in, wheezing ever so slightly, “one thing at a time, to start. Let them breathe, at least!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the hints of laughter tinting his voice. “It’s okay!” you said, your lips splitting into a crooked grin. “Although I don’t know if I can answer those questions.”

George let out a confused noise. “No? Why not?”

You hummed, swinging your legs around your chair. “Like for my favourite flower, I think they’re all really pretty and look nice, in their own little ways. Same thing for seasons.” You chuckled. “I’m too indecisive to pick just one.”

“But who do you think is the most handsome out of the three of us?” Sapnap prodded, excitement seeping into his tone. “It’s definitely me, right? Come on.”

“Hey,” George suddenly quipped, rushing through his words, “no flirting yet! We only just met!”

There was a brief second of silence. “I mean, isn’t that technically the best time to start flirting?”

“Sapnap.”

“Fine,” Sapnap sighed. You could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Friends first, flirting later.” You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when he added, “Carry on, though. I still want to hear your answer.”

Chewing on your lip, you stiffened, drumming your fingers against the side of your keyboard. “I’m telling you,” you sighed after a long moment, “I really don’t think I can pick. As a matter of fact,” you pointed out, raising a finger. “I don’t even know what one of you looks like.”

Now, it was Dream’s turn to speak up. “Then, talk about attractiveness, in general. It doesn’t just have to be about looks.”

You froze, your posture going rigid. Attractiveness in general…?

How could you possibly encapsulate their attractiveness just like that? Dream was so incredibly clever, and you loved to hear him talk about his passions. George was smarter than he let on, and you could see it in the way he coded their videos, working relentlessly to make them work. Sapnap was beyond affectionate, and just hearing him share his affection with those around him made your stomach melt. They were just handing you a recipe for disaster with a question like this, you knew it.

“This question is impossible,” you blurted, a gentle panic seeping into your tone. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned closer to your mic, adding with a teasing lilt, “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t,” Dream hummed, chuckling at the small whine that escaped your lips. “Either way, it’s cute to hear you struggle.”

Your breath suddenly hitched in your throat, but Sapnap was quick to leap forward. “Hey, what did we say about no flirting?”

Another beat of silence. “Killjoy.”

“Okay, moving on from that,” George said, quickly diverting topics, “how are you feeling, [Y/N]? Are you looking forward to the manhunt?”

You looked back at the call, your eyes locking onto the three Discord icons sitting next to your own. “Yes,” you admitted, “but I’m also very, very nervous.”

“Nervous?” Dream repeated slowly.

“Nervous,” you said again, “but a good kind of nervous.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Actually, I think excited is a better word to use. You guys always just seem like you have so much fun when you’re around each other, and I’m just...” You waved your hands in front of yourself, feeling your heart beat faster and faster while your face grew hot once more. “I’m just really excited to film with you all and play Minecraft together.”

Silence washed over the call, and your cheeks felt like they were about to burn right off your face. “Sorry,” you mumbled embarrassedly. “That—that probably sounds really dumb.”

“It doesn’t,” Sapnap said suddenly, making your gaze grow wide, “not at all.”

“Yeah,” George added with a joyful hum. “I dunno about those two, but I’m also excited to play with you, [Y/N].”

Dream guffawed, a scoff escaping his lips. “What do you mean you don’t know about us? Of course we’re excited! [Y/N] is great!”

You nearly fell out of your chair. “H-Huh?”

Dream’s voice was suddenly soft again, both parts soothing and cheerful all at once. “We might have only known each other for a little while, but I’m telling you, we’re beyond happy to have you here, and we want you to have a good time, too.”

“Oh, a thousand percent,” George said straight-facedly into his mic. “I’d trade you for both of these nerds in a heartbeat.”

Just like that, Sapnap was yelling as you heard Dream smack his desk. “George, what?! How could you say that?”

Giggling, you sank into your desk chair with a relieved smile, pressing a hand over your eager heart. “Thank you,” you murmured, only hoping they could hear the sincerity in your words. “I hope I don’t let you guys down.”

Their raucous bickering suddenly died down at the softness in your tone, and three voices spoke at the same time—each one sounding more honest than the last.

“You could never.”

You leaned forward in your desk chair, your eyes glued to your screen as you watched Dream’s avatar stand as still as a rock, frozen and entirely unmoving. Your finger hovered over your W key, waiting for the perfect moment to strike as your tongue darted out to flick over your bottom lip.

Manhunts may be stressful, but you were more than ready to tackle this one headfirst.

It happened so quickly that you nearly missed it. In one moment, Dream was standing in front of you, stock still as you stared him down. In the next, he was darting off in the opposite direction, already a whopping ten blocks away.

Sapnap’s voice shot through your headset like a bullet as he shouted, “After him!”

He didn’t need to say it again before the group was already dashing across the grassy field, boosting each other forward every other block. You clicked frantically at George’s backside, your lips twitching in glee as he shot the slightest bit closer to Dream. With each passing second, they ran further and further, Dream lying just a few steps out of reach. All of a sudden, he leapt off the side of a cliff, vanishing from sight in an instant. Coming to a screeching halt atop the hill, you watched as Bad peered over the forest, Sapnap and George hot on his heels.

“Where’d he go?” George muttered, confusion clouding his voice.

You shifted your mouse left and right as your gaze darted across your screen, scanning every pixel for even the tiniest hint of neon green. Just then, a gasp flew from your lips, and you caught Sapnap jolting in your direction at the sound.

“Look!” you cried, clicking to point over at the greenery. “He’s on the right—on top of the trees!”

Without missing a beat, everyone was leaping off the hill and barreling across the trees, ignoring their fall damage as they jumped over small gaps. “What is he,” George grumbled under his breath, “a monkey?”

You let out a tiny giggle at the genuine annoyance in his tone, but didn’t stop chasing after Dream’s running figure. Suddenly, he just barely missed his jump, bouncing twice on the same leaf block. He had only stalled for a brief second, but that was more than enough time for you to spam click your mouse. In a flash, Dream was tumbling off the tree, with you trailing right after him.

“I hit him off!” you shouted in glee, elation making every one of your syllables soar in your throat. “He’s on the ground.”

“Nice one, [Y/N]!” Sapnap chuckled with delight. “Now, don’t let him get away!”

The praise made the triumphant feeling that had unfurled beneath your ribs spread even farther under your skin, warming you from head to toe. Pushing forward, you nodded and slammed your thumb down on your space bar.

You had no plans of letting him escape.

You pulled your water bottle from your lips with a gasp, quickly screwing the cap back on before setting it down on your desk. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you turned back to your monitor, your gaze focused on the anvil a few blocks away. To your left sat the portal, and to your right was a wall of obsidian.

You were four hours into filming now, but you still weren't tired. How could you be, when you were so close to the end?

Clicking on the anvil, you dragged the diamond axe in your inventory into the first slot before reaching for the enchanted book sitting just beside it. Forty-two levels—you would need forty-two levels to enchant your axe with Sharpness IV.

You glanced down at the space above your hotbar and grinned.

Luckily for you, you had forty-three.

Clicking once more, clanging echoed through your ears, and you placed your newly enchanted axe in your hotbar with a proud smile. It was an absolute pain having to kill as many mobs and loot as many desert temples as you did, but for this, it was absolutely worth it. Now, it was time for the rest of the plan.

“I have no idea how you came up with this,” George said earnestly, his character facing yours, “but I love it.”

You grinned, opening up your inventory and removing your amour. “I just got really, really lucky.”

Grabbing an invisibility potion, you suddenly paused, a hint of uneasiness sinking in your gut. If Dream noticed any particles, you would be dead in an instant, and your plan would be blown to smithereens. You would have to move quickly to make it work—almost ridiculously quickly.

Swallowing, you opened your mouth. “Do you guys think we can really pull this thing off?”

Sapnap let out an easygoing chuckle, your shoulders relaxing in an instant. “Oh, I know we can.”

Letting Sapnap’s confidence run through you, you held down your mouse’s right key, downing the invisibility potion in one go before turning to rush out of the portal room. Through your headphones, you heard Dream let out an inquisitive hum, curiosity flickering through his tone. “Just what are you guys up to?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” Sapnap fired back without missing a beat, his voice swimming with mischief.

While George let out a wheeze and you giggled at Sapnap’s sharp quip, Dream sighed, muttering, “So much for asking.”

Huffing out one last quiet laugh, the smile fell from your face, your eyes narrowing as your expression grew serious. You moved ever so carefully through the stronghold, weaving in and out of the labyrinthine halls like a snake on the hunt. Your gaze darted back and forth between the compass in your hotbar and your screen. With each sharp swing of the compass hand, you held your breath, turning until it was pointed forward again. You had been searching for a few minutes when suddenly, you spotted it.

A glimpse of green.

Dressed head to toe in enchanted iron armour, Dream’s avatar stood in front of a wall of furnaces, smelting away as he turned from one to the next. On the same wall was a crafting table and a chest. He was planning something, you just knew it, but you didn’t have the time to question what. After all, he was facing the wall opposite from you, completely unaware of your presence.

This was the perfect chance, and you weren’t going to waste it worrying.

Creeping forward, you stopped only when you stood just a single block away from him, switching from your empty hand to the enchanted diamond axe in your hotbar. With Sharpness IV, it would only take three critical hits for you to take him down.

For a second, all was still.

Then, you were pressing down on your space bar and clicking your mouse a half second later, watching with bated breath as Dream’s avatar twitched from your attack. One.

He had barely managed to turn around before you had already landed another hit on him. Two.

By the time he had pulled out his own axe and began scanning the seemingly empty air in front of him, you were slamming your finger down one last time. Three.

With a shout, Dream dropped dead before you, his inventory exploding into a mess on the floor at your feet. You blinked once. Twice.

Then, the call burst into a mess of screams and shouts.

Dream’s yell rang through your ears as George and Sapnap hooted in delight, Bad and Antfrost following with their own victory cheers. “What the heck?!” he cried, shock filling his every word. “[Y/N], was that you? Oh my god, where did you even come from?”

Practically gasping for breath, you nearly collapsed on top of your keyboard, the adrenaline slowly wearing off as you smiled triumphantly to yourself. “[Y/N], you did it!” Sapnap shouted, just as loud as before. “You—you just—holy crap!”

“I was so stressed,” you breathed, sagging against the back of your chair with a breathless laugh. “You have no idea.”

“You were awesome, so awesome,” George managed between giggles, his own voice sounding giddy and positively overjoyed. “I knew you could do it.”

Your cheeks half-felt like they were about to start hurting from how hard you were smiling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Dream’s tired laugh filled your ears.

“Congratulations, [Y/N],” he murmured fondly. “You won.”

Just a week and a half later, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you scrolled through the comments section of the new video.

[y/n] was so funny omg

They made this manhunt feel so much more special

Their chemistry as a group was so good wtf!!!??!

please bring [y/n] back I am in LOVE

[Y/N] SUPREMACY

With each new comment you scrolled past, you felt your heart swell more and more in your chest with a mixture of joy and pride. You didn’t expect people to respond so positively to the video—to you.

You had barely made even a dent in the hordes of comments about you when a Discord notification popped up on your laptop screen. In a flash, you were pulling up Discord, quickly clicking on the appropriately named group chat, [Y/N] KILLED DREAM!!

Sapnap: hey

Sapnap: hey did you read the comments

[Y/N]: i did! people were so positive!!

[Y/N]: i wasn’t expecting it

George: You weren’t?

You furrowed your brows, reading George’s question twice before typing once again.

[Y/N]: of course not??? i’m just some person

[Y/N]: you guys are the dream team

George: Don’t put yourself down like that

Sapnap: yeah everyone liked the video because they liked you

Dream: well then

Dream: how do you feel about coming back to film again?

You stared at your screen in awe, something hopeful and weightless rising in the expanse of your chest. Filming another video? With them?

You didn’t even have to think before your fingers were typing out a response.

[Y/N]: i would love to

Peals of laughter tumbled from your lips as you rolled over on your bed, your phone perched beside your head on your pillow. A split second later, a loud whine echoed from your phone speaker, and you found yourself laughing even harder, your lungs gasping harder and harder for breath with each giggle that was pulled from your throat.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that you would be here.

It had been nearly a year since the fateful day that brought you and the Dream Team together and a little over ten months since you had first filmed together. Now, three videos and countless streams later, you were closer than ever before, cracking jokes and pushing each other’s buttons like you had known each other their whole lives—maybe even longer than that. It took some prodding, but you even called Dream by his real name, now. As much as you liked the name Dream, Clay sounded much nicer, in your opinion. Texting daily was practically a sacred ritual now, and you couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t get spammed by their texts at least four times a week. Even now, as you lay on your bed with your phone connected to Discord at your side, you were chatting with them, grinning as wide as ever. It was a comfortably pleasant lull you had fallen into, the four of you—one that you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life sinking into.

It was comfortable indeed, but even as complete as you felt now, you felt like there was something missing—like there was a hollow cavern in your chest just waiting to be filled.

Yet another shout suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, the noise sounding even more astounded than it had before. “How was I supposed to know that that was Russia?”

The sheer amount of shock in George’s voice immediately made you burst into another fit of giggles, throwing your head back. “There was Russian on the sign!” you managed between breaths. “It was so obvious!”

He sputtered at the sound of your laughter, sounding absolutely appalled by your reaction. “You can’t just expect me to be able to read Russian!”

You grinned, your voice dropping the tiniest fraction. “You act as if you don’t know how to say a few things in Russian.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Sapnap whistled. “Touché, [Y/N]. You’ve got him there.”

While George groaned, surely smacking his palm into his forehead, Clay spoke up with a teasing hum. “You should play some GeoGuessr with us more often. You’re way better at this than George.”

“This is bullying,” came a distant complaint from George, his voice coming out muffled through his mic.

“It’s the truth,” you corrected with a cheeky grin. “You cannot deny that.”

There came a snort, followed by Sapnap’s gentle laugh. “Look at you, [Y/N], being so mean all of a sudden.”

You smiled lopsidedly, trying to push back the shiver that ran down your spine at the way his low voice made your insides melt. “You know you guys love it.”

“We do.” Clay’s voice almost sounded far away, muffled and hazy. “We really, really do.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as a soft silence washed over the four of you, your chuckles dying down and fading into the quietness of your bedroom. Sighing deeply, you picked at your nail, silently begging your heart to calm down again. It was right then when George softly piped up.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he said quietly. When you let out a small noise, he continued. “We… you would call us close to you, right?”

You laughed at the hesitancy in his tone. For a second, he almost sounded shy, and it sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. “Do you even have to ask? We’ve been friends for months—of course we are!”

You could make out the faint sound of shuffling from Clay’s end, his icon flashing green. “Are—” He coughed. “Does that mean we’re close enough to ask you a… somewhat private question?”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone, your curiosity piquing. “Go for it,” you said gently, letting your eyelids flutter comfortably shut.

“Have you met your soulmate yet?”

In an instant, your eyes shot wide open again, and you lay frozen in your bed. In all the time you had known each other, not once had you brought up the topic of soulmates. It was almost as though you had simply skirted around it, too shy to press on about. But right now, with the topic lying right in front of your face, you couldn’t just avoid the topic.

Your fingers twitched as your mouth fell open. “N-No,” you stammered, the butterflies in your stomach going oddly still. “I, um, I haven’t. Have any of you?”

There was a pause. “No, none of us.”

You thought for a moment, your heart mulling over those four little words. Then, you exhaled and let your shoulders relax against the mattress, your nails curling into your palm. “I’m sure you guys have nothing to worry about,” you murmured almost hazily. “There are probably thousands and thousands of people who would love to be any one of your soulmates.” You chuckled, but it tasted bittersweet on your tongue. “Heck, there’s probably at least half a million fans who would be dying to take my place, right now.”

On the other end of the line, you were met with silence, but it was fleeting. “What about you?” Clay suddenly asked.

You blinked, your palm going slack. “Me?”

“You,” Clay affirmed, sounding more serious than before. “If you were one of our soulmates, how would you feel?”

The words left your lips before you could stop them. “Happy,” you blurted, suddenly feeling breathless. “So, so happy. I—”

You suddenly slapped your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off with wide eyes. Realization struck you like a lightning bolt, and you could feel your blood run cold in your neck. I did not just say that.

“What—” George stopped. Then, a second later, he continued. “Which one of us would you want it to be? To be your soulmate?”

With trembling fingers, you moved your hand away from your mouth, your voice coming out small. “Are you asking me who I like most?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You almost felt your heart drop, bolting upright until you were sitting atop your sheets. Wrapping your hand around your phone, you balanced it on your lap, uncertainty springing up in your gut.

Who... I like most?

Dream, George, and Sapnap. Sapnap, Dream, and George.

To think that just a year ago, you had never spoken to them—had only ever known them as three strangers through a screen. Yet here you were now, their voices soft against your ear and your heart aching at the sound of their laughter. They made you smile beyond belief, and you wouldn’t miss a call with them for the world, even if it was three in the morning and you were dead asleep. Although you had spent time with each of them individually, just as friends did, you loved spending time with all three of them together far more, and you didn’t want to imagine having them any other way.

George, Sapnap, and Dream.

Who did you like most?

You swallowed, then opened your mouth. “I,” you choked out, “I don’t—I wouldn’t—”

You stopped, your heart pounding like a drum between your lungs. You could feel them waiting for you, as patient and caring as ever. The thought made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Screwing your eyes shut, you sucked in a deep breath and whispered.

“I don’t think I could ever pick just one of you.”

The silence that filled the air as you closed your mouth was tense. A million unspoken words ricocheted off the insides of your mind, your heart racing within the confines of your chest. The air suddenly felt too hot, and you kicked the covers off your legs, curling your knees closer to your chest and resting your burning cheeks on top of them.

“Maybe this is a sudden thing to say,” Sapnap whispered abruptly, his words coming out slurred as he broke the silence, “but I really, really want to know what you look like right now, [Y/N].”

You felt your arms go limp around your legs. “Me, too,” George added, thoughtful and faint. “I bet you’re beautiful.”

Resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands, you ran your finger along the edge of your phone screen, the glass pressing against your hot skin. “I—um,” you began shakily, “you’ll see when we meet, okay? This way, two of us can stay a mystery.”

Clay’s soft chuckle rippled through your bedroom once more, bouncing off the walls and making your chest ache even more. “Alright.”

You felt your chest constrict with heat, feeling like you were almost about to burst at the seams from the way they were speaking. “W-Well,” you laughed, trying not to sound as panicked as you felt, “on that note, I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” You opened your mouth to continue when a yawn cut you off, eliciting a string of laughs from your phone speaker. “I’m feeling pretty tired.”

“Sweet dreams, [Y/N],” George murmured tenderly. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed with your heart battering against your ribs. “Goodnight!”

Reaching over, you pressed your thumb over your phone screen, exiting the call just as swiftly as you had joined. That had been hours ago now, and while you were tired, you couldn’t shake the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach—twisting and turning as you laid back on your bed. You slipped your phone onto your nightstand, plugging it in in a forlorn haze before lying back once more. Staring up at the lonesome ceiling, you frowned, your heart suddenly feeling like an anchor in your chest.

Without even an inch of doubt, you knew: you liked them—all three of them.

And it was going to be the end of you.

Having a crush was a dangerous thing in a world full of soulmates, especially if they were online—even more so if you had multiple. You could only ever find out if someone was your soulmate if you met them in person, and you had heard far too many stories of couples meeting in person, only to learn that they weren’t fated to be. Combining that with multiple soulmate bonds slimmed the chances even further. Multiple soulmate bonds weren’t exactly unheard of, but they were rare. You had never met anyone who had one, and you doubted that you would be the first you’d know to have one.

You suddenly felt it—that familiar spark of hope you felt all those months ago when you sat at your desk chair with a shirt on your lap. The hope that drew you to them now was the very same hope that connected you in the first place. Your heart leapt, lapping up every last droplet like a man dying of thirst, yet with each new spark that rained down in your chest, the thought clawing at the back of your mind loomed larger and larger.

Just what exactly were the chances all four of you would be soulmates? It had to be next to nothing if it wasn’t zero already.

This wasn’t like the manhunt raffle—lady luck could only be so generous.

Rolling onto your side, you felt something deep inside you reach its hands up and wrap around your lungs, squeezing as tightly as it could. The ache that shot through your insides stung like a hot coal, but you knew there was nothing you could do to soothe its hungry flames. Unshed tears pricked the back of your eyelids like silver needles, and you squeezed your eyes shut, choking back a muffled whine. Your bedroom suddenly felt too big, your bed too empty.

Hope could be beautiful, but it could also destroy you from the inside out.

“Do not leave the call.”

Clay’s chuckle sent a frown skittering across your face, and you let out a small whine as you leaned forward in your desk chair. “Aww,” he crooned, teasing and light, “are you jealous, Georgie?”

“N-No, what?” George sputtered, and you could almost envision the way his cheeks would flush a pretty shade of baby pink. “Just—just don’t hang up.”

“I’m telling you,” Sapnap laughed with a sly lilt, his voice sounding a little more distant than Clay’s, “he’s jealous.” You vaguely could make out the sound of his signal light from inside his car, a muffled car horn echoing from outside. “Or at least if he isn’t, [Y/N] is.”

At that, you whipped your head up, blinking wide as you shot a glare at Sapnap’s Discord icon on the side of your monitor screen. “Well, [Y/N]?” Clay drawled, a flicker of mischief dancing in his tone. “What do you have to say about that?”

You curled your fingers into your hands, a small pout settling onto your features as heat shot across your face. “I—I am!” you said, your voice coming out a fraction louder than you intended. When the other line went quiet, you shuffled back in your seat, your cheeks burning even hotter. “I am jealous, okay? It’s... it’s just not fair that you two get to meet before we do.”

There was a brief moment of silence. You were being childish, you knew, but at least you were being honest. Suddenly, Clay spoke. “We know, sweetheart,” he said gently, not at all realizing how your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. “But you’ll be able to meet us soon. Just wait a bit longer, okay? I’ll buy you both plane tickets if I have to.”

You pouted with a dejected whimper, your finger drawing small circles onto the side of your desk. “Okay.”

“Don’t sound so sad,” Sapnap chuckled with a soothing coo. “As soon as we can get you two over here, we will.”

You let out a sigh, swinging your chair from side to side with a frown. Was it so wrong of you to want to meet them so badly, to want to see them and hug them? Part of you didn’t even care if you were all soulmates at this point—you just wanted to hear them laugh in person. You wanted to make them smile. Was that really so much to ask for?

“I see him!” Clay suddenly shouted. Your head shot up faster than a bullet, and you heard the sound of a front door opening and slamming shut. “Oh, Sapnap.”

“Oh, Dream,” Sapnap called mockingly, his smile shining through in his voice. There was the sound of the car engine stopping, then a car door swinging open. “Holy crap, you’re way taller than I expected.”

You chuckled at the surprise in Sapnap’s voice, hearing George laugh along with you. “Jeez,” Clay muttered, his voice overlapping ever so slightly with the mic on Sapnap’s phone. “It’s so weird actually seeing you in person, oh my go—”

All of a sudden, Clay went silent, cutting himself off with a strangled noise of surprise. On Sapnap’s end, there was a muffled choking sound, then nothing. In a flash, you were upright, your eyes wide and your hand flying to your mouse.

“Sapnap?” George called, his tone soaked with worry. “Clay? Are you two alright?”

There came a gasp, and you could make out the sound of Sapnap struggling to search for words. “You’re—Clay’s my—”

Just like that, it clicked, like a switch had been flipped inside you. You felt something in your chest deflate, and you opened your mouth.

“Soulmates,” you whispered so quietly that you would have missed it yourself, had you not been the one to say it. “You two are soulmates, aren’t you?”

George fell silent. “I think so,” Clay mumbled, his tone coming out as if he were in a daze. “I’ve never felt anything like that before in my life—it definitely feels like what everyone says, you know? Just, really warm, and.... and...” He trailed off, ending with an enamoured sigh. “Yeah.”

Your mouth felt as though it had been sewn shut, like you wouldn’t have been able to force the words from your lips even if you tried. “How did we not know after all these years?” Sapnap giggled, his voice swimming in a mixture of disbelief and affection.

“We’ve never met in person up until now,” Clay mused, his sentence rising at the end. “This is the first time we’ve ever seen each other, let alone touched.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sapnap murmured back wistfully. The call suddenly went quiet, and a deep, disappointed quiet fell over the four of you. Not a word was said as the harsh reality slowly settled into your hearts.

Clay and Sapnap were soulmates.

Only Clay and Sapnap.

“I’m happy for you two!” George suddenly shouted, startling you in your chair. He sounded oddly chipper—too chipper. “I wish—” He suddenly choked, pausing for a moment to catch his breath again. “I wish I was already friends with my soulmate. Meeting new people is hard.”

“Who knows?” Clay chuckled. His words were teasing, but even they couldn’t mask how crestfallen he sounded. “Maybe [Y/N] is yours.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap hummed in agreement, the hopefulness in his voice sounding just as forced as his soulmate’s. “You hear that, [Y/N]? Maybe you and Gogy were meant to be.”

Your vision was hazy and unfocused, your gaze focused on the window in your room. In the corner of the glass was a small spider web, just barely the size of your palm. You watched with blurry eyes as a fly caught in the sticky web beat its wings in desperation, struggling helplessly as a spider crawled out from behind the windowsill. You distantly wondered how trapped that fly felt—if it knew that there was no point in hoping for anything better, now.

Turning away from the window, you focused your gaze down at yourself, down at the black shirt you were wearing. A clean white axe stared back up at you, and you felt a bittersweet smile stretch across your face as you uttered a single word.

“Maybe.”

A loud beep echoed from the ceiling speakers, and you jumped at the sound. All around you, people were bustling in and out of gates, towing luggage behind them as they rushed down the crowded pathways and between loitering groups of people. You whipped your head this way and that at the sight, your head spinning with all the new sights and sounds.

It was still hard to believe that just a few months prior, you wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an airport like this.

To see people move from one place to the next, seeing loved ones and meeting new people for the first time was almost exhilarating, especially after all that had happened with the world. You liked it, and you certainly hoped that it was here to stay.

You had just started walking down the main path when you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Fishing it out, your face lit up at the caller ID, and you picked up without waiting another second, pressing the cool glass to your ear with a smile. “Hi, George.”

“Hey!” he greeted with a cheerful tone. “Did you get here safely?”

Rocking back and forth on your heels, you curled your fingers a little tighter around the handle of your suitcase with a hum. “Yep.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it sent a familiar tingle of warmth bouncing down your spine. “How are you feeling?”

You paused, your steps faltering for a brief second as you pondered. “Nervous,” you said after a moment or two, “but a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he repeated with a fond tone. “I think I know the word you’re looking for.”

Your lips curled up at his words, your mind flashing back to a distant day from long, long ago. “Yes, George, I’m excited.”

The laugh that fell from his lips sounded like pure music to your ears, and you caught yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind drowning in the sound. “Me, too.” As you wove between a few sectioned off groups, George added gently, “You know where to meet us, right?”

You nodded with a small noise of confirmation, making a sharp turn down yet another long hallway. “Yeah—I’m pretty sure Clay and Sap are already waiting for us.”

George snorted, both affectionate and teasing at once. “Oh, I know they are. I’ll see you there?”

You grinned, bobbing your head along to the beat of your suitcase wheels rolling across the polished tiled floors. “For sure. See you there!”

Lowering your phone from your ear, you pressed your thumb against the screen before letting it drop into your pocket once more. A sigh escaped your lips as you let the ache you had been suppressing tumble loose, throbbing and gnawing away at the shaky shards of your heart.

How long had they known that Clay and Sapnap were soulmates, now? Five months? Six? You weren’t sure if you could even bring yourself to keep count, anymore. It hurt too much to think about. You were happy for them, you really were. But the selfish part inside you still longed for their touch, even if they wouldn’t ever truly be yours. It wasn’t that you didn’t like George, but you meant what you said—you couldn’t pick just one, and you wanted all of them, as greedy as it was.

Shaking your head, you pushed forward, your gaze darting up to the navigational sign hanging from the ceiling. No matter how painful it may be, you weren’t going to let your own heart get in the way of how amazing today was going to be. You were meeting your favourite people in the world today, and nothing was going to take that away from you.

Not even heartbreak.

Glancing briefly over at a map on the wall, you huffed as you dragged your suitcase up a set of stairs and through the corridor, chewing on the inside of your lip. George’s gate was on the opposite side of the airport from yours, and Clay and Sapnap were waiting in the middle for the two of you. His flight had arrived a bit before yours, so you knew you were just going to have to find all three of them together.

After another few minutes of walking, you found yourself walking into the central dome of the airport, the glass ceiling filtering natural light into the room as you wheeled your luggage in. Your lips parting in awe at the sight, you swept your gaze across the busy room, scanning over every head you could find. You had only been looking for a few moments when a head of dark sepia hair caught your attention. Narrowing your eyes, you shuffled forward carefully. Then, your lips split into a triumphant grin.

There they were.

In a heartbeat, you felt your insides melt at the sight. Sapnap and George looked as handsome as ever, their lips curled up into dazzling smiles as they spoke, and Clay—oh, Clay. This was the first time you would ever be seeing each other’s faces, but you didn’t have to see him to know that he was pretty. With tousled golden locks and emerald green eyes that flashed like gemstones, he was everything you could have asked for and more.

Chatting casually with one another, all three of them were dressed in comfortable clothes, and you wanted to fling yourself at them and bury yourself into their warm touch. Sucking in a deep breath, you marched toward them, slinking around so that you were facing their backs. Hugs could come later—right now, it was time for a surprise.

Treading slowly and carefully, you only stopped when you stood a foot behind them, the giddiness rising in your chest as you finally opened your mouth.

“Sapnap was right. You are tall.”

The three of them immediately whirled at the sound of your voice, their eyes as wide as saucers as their gazes locked on yours. The grin on your face only grew wider as you watched their faces light up in unison, like a set of stars coming together in the night sky.

“[Y/N],” they said at the same time, blinking wildly as you sent them a small wave.

You laughed. “Here I a—”

“We were right, too,” Clay suddenly blurted, bending over slightly. “You are beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed with bubbling heat, and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “I—ah, um,” you stammered, taking a step back. “You look good too, Clay.”

Sapnap took a step forward, reaching his hand out toward you with a soft smile. “So, we finally meet,” he hummed, a brilliant gleam flashing across his eye. “Does this mean I get to hug you, now?”

You grinned, and with a giggle, you were leaping forward, your suitcase wobbling behind you as you let go. The moment you felt warm arms wrap around your backside, you felt yourself relax.

Then, your skin suddenly felt like it was on fire.

Warmth surged up your spine like a rippling flame, your eyes shooting wide open as you gasped, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of Sapnap’s shirt. In an instant, you were stumbling back, clutching at the space over your heart. You could feel it going absolutely haywire in your chest, pounding like never before. Your entire body felt as light as a feather, and your mind felt strangely hazy.

Impossible—it had to be.

“Sap,” you choked out, your eyes locking onto his own wide ones, “you—”

“George, Clay,” he suddenly said, reaching a hand out toward the two boys, “get over here. Right now.”

The two of them had been standing stock still just a few steps away, their jaws dropped and faces contorted with surprise as they watched you and Sapnap tremble across from one another. Swallowing, George took the first shaky step forward, reaching his hand toward yours. The moment your fingers brushed, the same tingling warmth crashed over you like a wave, and you let out a soft noise, happiness blooming in your throat like a blossom in spring. You watched with earnest eyes as George’s expression mirrored yours, his rosy lips parted in surprise as his fingers latched onto yours. The hope you had locked away months ago came pouring out of your glowing heart like a waterfall, overwhelming every inch of your senses.

“It’s not just us,” you whispered, your voice brimming with nebulous hope. “It’s George, too.”

George lifted his head, his breath hitched as he turned. “That just means...”

All three of your gazes landed on Clay, who was still frozen in place, stock still with shock. Your eyes darted to Sapnap’s, then George’s. You nodded in unison, and without saying a word, you stepped forward. You slipped your hand into Sapnap’s, your heart trembling with adoration at how big and warm his palm was against your own. Sharing one last glance with one another, you nodded. Just like that, you were slipping your hand into Clay’s, George following suit while Sapnap grabbed his.

In a heartbeat, everything felt perfect.

The empty cracks in your heart no longer felt as wide as they once did, instead flooding with burning warmth and something that felt like love. Your head spun with dizzying affection, and you felt your vision grow watery, but for an entirely different reason, now.

God, you loved them, you loved them, you loved them.

At your side, Sapnap’s hand shook in yours, surprise lacing his every word. “I can’t believe it.”

“A four-way soulmate bond,” George breathed, his own mouth twitching up into a lovestruck grin. “I—I never thought we’d have one. I mean, I always hoped but—”

Suddenly, Clay spoke up, his voice hoarse but full of sincerity. “W-Woah, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

In a flash, their eyes were on you, who had let go of Clay’s hand to press your palm against your eye. “N-Nothing’s wrong,” you said, your voice shaking with overwhelming emotion. “I’m just—I’m so happy.” A quiet sniffle bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. “I liked you all so much and I was so scared that only George was going to be my soulmate, because you’re all so important to me, and I couldn’t just give you guys up like that.”

“[Y/N],” Clay choked out, his own voice starting to wobble, “stop, please. You’re going to make me cry.”

Laughing, you leaned against him, soaking into the warmth of his body as his arm instinctively wrapped around you. “Just—just cry with me, okay? We can all cry together.”

You didn’t need to say it twice. Not even a split second later, and you felt two more pairs of arms snake up around you, a nose burying itself into your hair as a cheek pressed against yours. “It looks like you won more than just one lottery then, huh?” Sapnap mumbled from above you, his chest rumbling against your back.

“Yeah,” George chuckled, his fingers lovingly rubbing small circles against your arm. “First the manhunt, now this. Just how lucky can one person be?”

You smiled, rubbing your head against Clay’s shoulder with a loving hum. “I don’t know what the universe was thinking,” you murmured, your eyelids fluttering shut as you gently rocked back and forth together, “but I’m glad I won. You three are the best prize I could have ever asked for.”

You felt a pair of lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your heart sighing in your chest. “I love you,” someone whispered, too softly for you to tell who it was.

All around you, the bustling airport kept moving, full of life and bursting with energy as the crowds flowed around you like a river. The world was still moving, the planet still turning beneath your feet as you embraced one another, warm and safe in each other’s arms. But in that moment, none of that mattered. A dazzling spark danced along the crevice of your heart, bright and warm and oh-so full of hope as you opened your mouth to whisper back.

“I love you all, too.”

2K notes · View notes

strawberrymilkgeorge · 4 years ago

Text

Part Seventeen. The Bugity Stream

warnings: swearing, dream is jealous, kinda angsty word count: 4k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist wattpad

a/n: heheheeee bugity stream!! barely any dreamsy interaction and we don’t read the actual bugity fanfics, but lots of pouty dream :/ and we’re seeing stuff from a new person’s POV (also, elmo and i 389757% have come up with lore for the foxtrot fic that they mention in this chapter..... side fic??) everyone say THANK YOU HARVEY FOR BEING AN AMAZING BETA (@hungoverhellhound) ur the best :) also also, 🦀 anon suggested using discord people’s names for twitch chat so i did!! (i asked beforehand and everyone who wanted to be included was) it was fun adding that little bit so hehe hope mushroom field likes their comments

ANYWAY, ENJOY THIS PART!!!!!!!!! and as always, thanks for all the positive comments and stuff yall really make me cry /pos

**********

George’s POV

George left the messaging app when he received a spam of notifications from Dream on Discord telling him to call him as soon as possible. He knew it wasn’t an actual emergency, which is the only reason he took his sweet time rising from his bed and meandering over to his desk. George fell on his chair with a huff, taking a deep breath before pulling himself closer to his desk and opening Discord. He picked up his headphones and slid them on, preparing himself for the loud voice his best friend was about to use. After pressing a few familiar buttons, he could hear his best friend's frantic cry for help through his headphones.

“GEORGE.”

He tried his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Dream.”

“I'm-I’m going to literally—GEORGE. What am I supposed to do?”

“About what?”

“You know what!” Dream huffed, exasperated. “The stream!”

“You don’t even know what it is, why are you being so weird about it?”

“I’m not being weird,” he defended.

“Yes, you are,” George countered. “You’re, like, panicking, I dunno.”

“Because it’s Quackity! He’s probably gonna make, like, a proposal video or some shit to show her and then everyone is going to ship them and she’s going to forget about me and—”

“This wouldn’t be a problem if you tell her you like her.”

Dream scoffed. “Oh, so they can make fun of me for it? No, thanks.”

“She wouldn’t make fun of you for liking her,” George reasoned. Definitely not. “Why would Bugsy make fun of you for that? Or for anything in general?”

“Okay, maybe not, but she’d definitely be weirded out or not believe me. I can’t tell her yet. It… it has to be the right time.”

George thought it was rather cute that Dream cared so much about his confession being perfect, whereas Quackity was doing everything he could to make Dream just say it. Dream had been stressing over how to tell her he liked her for a few weeks, constantly running ideas by George before telling him to forget it and coming up with new plans. He could see how important it was to Dream that he did it right. They just needed to figure out what “right” was.

“Fine, but I’m just saying if you told her already, you wouldn’t have to be so worried about this.”

“Should I be? You make it sound like me panicking is justified! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?”

“Stop being so dramatic!” George laughed. “She isn’t going to forget about you and if he proposes to her, we can just ask to join the call and we’ll all yell at Quackity for you, okay?”

“No, I wanna yell at Quackity.”

“Well, he said he’s not going to let you in the call so…”

“He did? When did he say that? Wait, why won’t he let me in?? What are they doing??”

George laughed at the franticness in Dream’s voice. “I’m not allowed to say.”

“George!”

“I can’t!” he said as he threw his hands into the air. “I literally can’t!”

“Oh come on, you’ve never kept a secret in your life but now you decide to?”

George shook his head. If only Dream knew how many secrets he was actually keeping, it would be obvious just how good George was at not spilling things.

“George, just tell me what they’re doing,” Dream begged, his voice now somber and genuinely worried instead of frantic. “Please.”

“I can’t, Dream. I’m sorry. But really, it’s going to be okay.” Hating the seriousness of the conversation and the oddly soft tone of his voice, George changed the subject. “Oh, look at that, Karl wants to join the call. I’ll add him,” he said quickly, knowing Dream wasn’t going to say anything about how much he liked Bugsy around her best friend. In Dream’s eyes, Karl was unaware of his feelings for Bugsy, and George assumed he wanted to keep it that way.

“Wait, George before you—” Dream started softly but was cut off by the sound of someone joining the call.

“Hey, Karl!” George greeted obliviously.

“Hi! Neither of you are streaming or recording or anything, right?” Karl asked.

“No,” Dream answered bluntly.

“We’re just waiting for Quackity to start his stream and we’re gonna watch together.”

“Oh, yeah!” Karl cackled. “You really wanna see it, Dream? Even though Quackity will probably hit on Bugsy?”

“Yeah, why should I care?” he faked disinterest, even though everyone in the call knew he would definitely care if that happened. “It probably will be funny, to be fair. And since Bug will be too busy to talk to me, I guess I can still, you know, hear her voice…” he trailed off to an almost inaudible volume and George smiled, deciding not to tease the younger boy for the sweet sentiment.

“I'll watch it with you,” Karl said. “We can all make fun of them together.”

George noted the long pause of silence before Dream softly asked, “Do you know what they’re doing, Karl?”

“Yup!”

“W-what is it?”

“Mmm, can’t say! Sorry!” Karl chirped in fake obliviousness. “Why do you want to know?”

George rolled his eyes; he knew what Karl was doing, pretending like he didn’t already know Dream would be jealous in hopes that Dream would spill to him. It’s like he and Quackity enjoyed causing Dream pain, pushing him to the edge in situations where he couldn’t vent his feelings, forcing him to keep it inside and build it up in an overwhelming pile of emotions.

“Just… curious,” Dream lied.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Karl said nonchalantly. “I’m gonna be honest though, George, can I just say, I’m a little annoyed with them.”

George laughed. “Really, why?”

Karl hummed, choosing his words carefully. “It might mess things up,” he said softly.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean by that,” George admitted vaguely. In the few minutes he had been talking to Dream, he could already tell it wasn’t going to go over well with the blond boy.

“Can you guys just… tell me what they’re doing?” Dream tried again, the desperation spilling out of him. “Why is it a big deal? What would it mess up?”

Karl giggled again. “Bugsy and Quackity like keeping their fans on their toes, you know? As Bugsy’s number one fan it would be the worst to tell you.”

“Well, I’m also Quackity’s number one anti right now so it cancels out,” Dream reasoned. “So you can tell me.”

“Aw, he admitted he’s her number one fan!” Karl teased.

Dream groaned when he realized he wouldn’t get anywhere by repeatedly asking the same question. In other words, he gave up. “When are they supposed to start?”

“Um, soon I think?” George answered vaguely as he opened Twitch on his other monitor. “He’s not live yet but he Tweeted earlier that it would be around now.”

There were a few moments of silence before Karl spoke up. “So, how have you guys been today?”

“Mm, pretty good,” George admitted, scrolling through Twitter on his phone and pretending to not hear Dream’s pitiful sighs. “Kinda slow, but not bad. What about you?”

“Good, actually. Bugsy, Naomi, and I went out for lunch earlier which was fun. Speaking of…” Karl giggled. “Naomi? And you? What’s up?”

George felt himself turn red at the mention of their relationship, whatever it was. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I have,” he admitted happily. “I just want to make sure your stories line up.”

“Karl! No, that’s-that’s… I’m not telling you anything now.”

“George doesn’t talk about feelings, Karl. He’s not going to tell you. I know his side of the story though,” Dream said. “He’s told me.”

“What did he say?”

“I could tell you,” Dream bargained, attempting to get the information he wanted in any way possible, “if you tell me what Quackity and Bug are streaming.”

Karl cackled. “Woah, woah, woah, Dream. I don’t need to know that bad. Dang, you’re really impatient!”

“Yes, okay!” Dream snapped, annoyance in his voice. “Sue me for wanting to know what super top-secret thing that the girl I really like and the boy who constantly publicly flirts with her are doing! Because it’s obviously not just a cooking stream or roblox or else you guys wouldn’t act like the FBI put you in charge of keeping it from me. And don’t give me that garbage and ask why I assume it’s something flirty just because it’s being kept from me. I know that all of you are aware of how much I like her so Quackity is definitely doing it on purpose. Literally everyone except maybe Y/n knows I like her, I know that. So yes I want to know and yes I’m worried about what the fucking stream is.”

George and Karl were silent for a few moments, processing his rant. Maybe Karl was right, maybe it was stupid of Y/n to try to make him jealous this way. Sure, jealous Dream was entertaining, but when was it too far? Would Dream think them reading fanfiction together was funny at all or just purely exasperating? George started to think the latter was more likely.

“Shit,” Karl mumbled. “Dream—”

“Dream, I promise there’s nothing to actually be worried about,” George tried reassuring.

“Yeah, you’ll probably get jealous and it’s very understandable if you do but… Quackity’s just messing around,” Karl added.

Dream took a deep breath and almost on cue, George got a notification from Twitter that Quackity had tweeted.

“He’s live,” Karl announced softly and they waited to hear Dream’s reaction once he saw the title.

It came softly, a voice of disbelief ringing through George’s headphones. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hey, you’re already trending for your joke, that should make you happy,” Karl offered and Dream knocked something over on his desk.

“Shit,” he mumbled through the mic. “Shit, shit, shit. I spilled my—shit.” A few seconds passed and George took the silence to share his screen with the others so they could watch the video together. “No, Karl, that doesn’t make me feel better. It’s not really a joke. I mean, I’ll play it off as one but… wait, don’t share your screen,” he told George. “I don’t want to watch this shit.”

“You said you did.”

“That was when I didn’t know what it was,” he replied as if it was obvious. “I don’t want to watch them read fanfiction together.”

“He doesn’t actually like her,” Karl reminded gently.

“I don’t care, it’s still embarrassing for me! It’s just a fat reminder that she doesn’t like me back and that she’s not my girlfriend.”

George wanted to slam his head against a wall. He opted for his desk instead, his forehead coming in contact with the wood with a loud THUD. It was so hard to keep his mouth shut and not just tell him about Y/n’s feelings.

“It’s, like, Quackity is rubbing it in my face that she doesn’t like me. What an asshole.”

“That’s not what he’s trying to do,” Karl said. His voice sounded as in pain as George felt. Which one of them was going to break first and tell Dream?

He didn’t know how to use words that weren’t ‘Bugsy likes you, dipshit’, so he tried something else. “It might still be funny—”

Dream wasn't laughing. Nothing about this was funny to him. “George.” Frustration was evident in his sharp tone.

“I don't get what the big deal is—”

“They're-they’re reading fanfiction! It's just gonna be a bunch of, like, romantic stories about them and, what, I'm supposed to just watch?”

“You don't have to watch it if you don't want to. I'm sure Quackity won't mind losing one viewer—”

“George, I'm being serious.”

“Calm down,” he said gently. “It's just Quackity. We told you already, he doesn't like Bugsy like that.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m okay with this,” Dream mumbled.

George took a deep breath. He did understand how Dream was in an uncomfortable situation, and even if it wasn't a big deal to him, it was to Dream.

“Hey, Dream?” Karl started gently.

“What?” he spat. He sounded like he was seconds away from disconnecting and hiding in his bed or punching a wall or doing whatever it is Dream does when he’s upset.

Karl hesitated for way too long before saying, “We can do something else if you still want to hang out with us. I don’t want to force you to watch it if it really will upset you.”

Dream breathed deeply. “I’m being dramatic,” he admitted softly, reminding George of a little kid getting reprimanded by an adult. “We can… watch it, I guess.”

“You’re not being dramatic if that’s how you feel,” Karl reassured. When did he become a therapist? George sat back as he listened to them, biting his lips in order to not spill Y/n’s secret. “If it really does make you upset, then that’s that. You’re allowed to be jealous, I mean, I understand why you are. That was literally Quackity’s plan, we expected you to be.”

“I’m not allowed to be jealous, though,” Dream countered lightly. “She’s-she’s not my girlfriend. She’s allowed to do what she wants. I have no right feeling like… like…” he trailed off and sighed.

George raised his head to look at Dream’s Discord icon empathetically.

“I didn’t know you liked her this much,” Karl admitted. “I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought.”

George agreed. They knew Dream was whipped for Bugsy and that watching a stream of Quackity and her read fanfiction together would piss him off a little, but this was different. He sounded utterly heartbroken.

“I really do,” Dream mumbled, his voice muffled by what George assumed was his hands on his face.

Internally screaming at himself to tell his best friend something that was guaranteed to make him feel better, George wrung his hands together. He looked at his second monitor, which still showed Quackity’s starting soon screen. “Dream?”

“What?”

“Tell her.”

“I can’t, it has to b—”

“It has to be perfect, I know,” George interrupted impatiently but gently. “Tell her soon.”

Dream’s next words came in a soft, embarrassed tone, no longer defensive and combative but rather nervous and contemplative. “What if she doesn’t believe me? Or she thinks I like her for the wrong reasons?”

“Do you mean because you haven’t seen her?” Karl asked sincerely. “Because of that idea her ex got stuck in her head?”

As if suddenly realizing he was in the presence of the person who knew Bugsy better than anyone, Dream’s voice perked up. “Karl,” he paused. “Can you promise me that you won’t tell her anything I tell you?”

“Yes,” Karl replied quickly. “I promise. I want to help you and if that means not telling her, I will.”

“You heard on Quackity’s stream that she and I were FaceTiming? Like, that I’ve seen her?”

“Yeah,” George and Karl replied together.

“I’m still bitter that I found that out from watching a stream instead of from my best friend,” Karl muttered, “but continue.”

George laughed through his nose at Karl’s comment before Dream explained his concern. “Since I didn’t tell Bug that I like her before I saw her, I’m worried she’ll think I only like her now because I know what she looks like. See my problem? If I told her before, she wouldn’t believe me but if I tell her now she might think it’s because of her looks.”

“Oh,” Karl said, his voice muffled behind his hand. “I see what you’re saying. Hm, that’s… I think... I could be wrong, but I’ve talked to Naomi and we both think she’s, like, realizing you don’t need to see someone to like them.”

“How do you figure?”

Karl hesitated. “Not important. But, I think it would be fine if you told her. I think you’ve proven that you like her for more than her looks and she’s blind if she couldn’t tell you liked her before.”

George nodded to himself. “Yeah, Naomi has mentioned that to me too. I think you guys are right. And yeah, Dream, you’ve clearly liked her before so she would understand.”

“What if it makes things weird between us?” Dream asked. “You know, telling her.”

“Trust us, it won’t make things weird.”

“How should I—”

Dream was interrupted abruptly by Quackity unmuting his stream and yelling, “CHAT! HOW ARE WE TODAY?” and laughing loudly.

George flinched at the sudden change in mood. Just as he and Karl were calming Dream down, Quackity went and made the air tense again. George could feel Dream’s anxiety slowly growing.

“Again, we don’t have to watch,” Karl offered but Dream made a noise in protest.

“Let’s watch.”

The atmosphere was tense to say the least, occasional comments trying to lighten the mood about Quackity or Bugsy being funny or stupid, but overall the voice call was quiet. George had no idea what to say to Dream and he could tell Karl didn’t either. Having the chat open wasn’t helping either.

user43: GEORGE IS HERE HE’S GONNA SNITCH TO DREAM libbbyyyyyyyyy: george george george he’s watching venus: bugsy simps getting FED today user13: wattpad writers watch out ItsRainingPastels: this is so funny!! Bugity interactions are amazing Chrimsss: foxtrot???? user71: READ. FOXTROT. cantaloupe: ajsdkfhj please the look on his face when bugsy said “that could be us” user92: FOXTROT NEXT FOXTROT NEXT user48: i'm surprised dream hasn't barged into chat or their call to yell at quackity yet noraimp: i’ve been saying bugity supremacy all along and no one believed me until now hungoverhellhound: stop saying foxtrot i WILL CRY user11: SUCK IT DREAM, BUGSY AND QUACKITY ARE BETTER FOR EACH OTHER bexwastaken: i miss dream :(

George took the liberty of closing the chat so Dream didn’t have to see it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled softly. Apparently that was a good choice on George’s part.

“Chat just gets in the way,” he excused, trying to place the decision on his own reasons rather than embarrass Dream by acknowledging that he knew seeing all the comments was bothering the younger

“This story is actually kinda funny,” Dream admitted. “Well, it’s super cringey but… it’s funny that Bug thinks it’s funny.”

Karl made a small whine in adoration. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” Dream mumbled. “Or I won’t tell you anything ever again.”

“Were you going to?”

“Yeah, maybe, I guess,” Dream said. “If that’s okay with you. You know her better than anyone and… I obviously need advice or nothing is going to happen.”

“Dream,” Karl started formally, “I’d be honored to give you the best Bugsy advice I can offer. And to hear you say cute things like that about her because it’s adorable. I’m sure ranting about how cute she is to George is like talking to a brick wall.”

Dream hummed, a small laugh escaping him. “Yeah, that’s pretty accurate, actually. He’s not very responsive. He doesn’t get it.”

“I’m sure she’s pretty and all, I’m just not good at talking about people’s feelings,” George defended.

George tuned back into the stream as Quackity and Bugsy laughed loudly. “Oh my gosh, holy shit that was wild,” Quackity exclaimed.

“Yeah, what the heck? That was so funny,” Bugsy admitted, still laughing lightly.

“Okay, okay, one down. Guys, stop spamming Foxtrot in my chat, what is that? Is that a fic? I said I already picked everything out, don’t suggest things.” Quackity looked at his phone and laughed. “Wait, I did pick that one out, actually.”

George assumed the chat was going wild and his curiosity got the best of him so he opened it.

user66: READ CHAPTER 10 hungoverhellhound: NOOO NO DON’T READ IT PLEASE I CAN’T HANDLE THIS TODAY venus: this isn’t going to go well libbbyyyyyyyyy: laksjdhjkh try not to fall in love with each other after this one ItsRainingPastels: ive heard things about this fic… everyone cries cantaloupe: YES YES noraimp: are they reading foxtr…. oh no user52: SKIP TO CHAP 10 bexwastaken: dream come get your girl smh Chrimsss: we’re about to watch bugity become real because of this fic user10: it starts slow, do chap 10 or 16!!!! user88: quack isnt in it until later lol

“They said it starts really slow though? I’m not in it until chapter 3?” Quackity scoffed. “Fine, we’ll skip ahead.”

“People are saying ‘Chapter 10’ so that one must be good?” Bugsy suggested and Quackity complied.

George closed the chat again when he registered Dream’s silence and apologized under his breath.

“Try not to fall in love because of this fic?” Quackity read. “Can’t happen because we already are in love, chat.”

Dream scoffed, mirroring Bugsy’s reaction. “In your dreams, duck boy.”

“You are, actually,” Quackity teased.

“Shut the fuck up, Quackity,” Dream grumbled to no one, and George couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.

Foxtrot — the fanfiction the chat was raving about — was really good. At least the chapter they read on the stream was. It was so well written and soft and George hadn’t heard Dream speak in a good 15 minutes. George didn’t dare look at chat after they finished reading that one, opening his phone to text Quackity instead.

“Hold on, one second, chat,” Quackity said, faking a British accent as he looked at his phone. “One second, chat.”

George looked up and saw Quackity smiling at his phone as he set it on his desk and returned to the stream. “Okay!”

George set his phone on his own desk before hearing Bugsy laugh. “Dream just texted me.”

“What did he say?” Quackity asked nervously.

“He’s…” she trailed off and laughed. “He wants to know if I’m leaving him for you. He said, ‘I understand if you have feelings for him after that’. Oh my gosh.” She giggled and George heard Dream laugh through his nose.

“Dream,” Karl laughed. “Why?”

“Do you realize how suspicious it would be if I didn’t make some sort of appearance during the stream after all the things I’ve said on Twitter and stuff? I had to joke around for the chat.”

“Fair…” George said.

“Is he watching?” Quackity asked Bugsy as if George hadn’t just told him they were. “Dream, go away. We aren’t letting you in VC. Just accept the truth,” he laughed loudly.

George shook his head to himself as he realized how much this wasn’t a joke just to mess with the fans. If it was, Quackity would have let Dream into their call so everyone could witness Dream be jealous but instead, he was almost banishing Dream to be jealous in private. The fans not seeing how Dream was actually feeling made it more real somehow. Quackity really wanted Dream and Bugsy to own up to their feelings.

“I want to strangle him,” Dream confessed jokingly. “At this point, I don’t even want to be in their call because I don’t have the energy to play up being sad. I’m just really sad.”

“I told him to stop reading actual cute ones, so it should be fine now,” George announced. “That last one was too much.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Quackity, I’m not falling in love with you,” Bugsy stood her ground with a laugh. “Not happening, bud.”

“We’ll just have to read more until you do,” Quackity cackled and George heard Dream huff.

The stream didn’t last too much longer, Quackity apparently not wanting to take the joke too far even though he already had.

“Thank god that’s over,” Dream mumbled as George unshared his screen and closed Twitch.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” Karl asked slowly.

Dream hummed. “It was pretty bad, Karl.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed.

“But now it’s over and you can go back to talking to Bugsy and have her full attention,” George said positively.

“How am I supposed to talk to her after that?”

“Like normal?”

“What if she brings it up?”

“Then you say, ‘Bugsy, I don’t want to talk about this because I like you’,” Karl suggested. “Simple.”

“Okay, you are no help. No longer coming to you for advice.”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding. Just… tell her it was funny but don’t elaborate. She’s good at picking up on when people are uncomfortable, she’ll drop it.”

“Or tell her you like her,” George agreed and Karl laughed as Dream groaned.

“No. Not yet.”

“Not yet,” George mimed. “But soon.”

Dream took another deep breath. “Soon.”

__________

PREVIOUS | NEXT

tags: CLOSED @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @iamnothereatthemoment @charsdummb @jeyyes @notgeoreg @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @tinyegg @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman @crybabyjabby @mushroom-main @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @sunbunniie @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade @erinitoburrito @sparklykeylime @youhyakuya @danny-devitowo @clubfairy @loser-keiji @oi-itsemily @alm334 @the-katastrophe @wreny24 @applecakeradio @unicornblood4ever @aha-red @brendalopez99 @spacecluster @justonemoreepisode @strawbrinkofdeath @aikochan4859 @chaotic-tieflings @dreamsofficialwife @where-thesundoesntshine @jamiealenaa @unstableye @kageyamama-hinatatata @officiallyunofficialperson @secretly-a-weeb @localsimp @loxbbg @rhymeorreason1 @flubblubbb @kiritokunuwu @sylum @raining13lemonade @aiyncel @ghostfacefricker6969 @avengemepercy @modyoonie @givemeyourcrunchbars @donttellaweirdweakling @dreamiewrites @misfortunatem00n @mayempress @strang-ersclub @panic-at-space-camp @netheriteaxes @kaqinq @momo-has-a-gun @lunelicmoone @beller-18 @bluechocolatemint @mythicalamphitrite @crypticcandi @80sfeel @asianfrustration13 @justanunknown @libbynotfound @osculatcr @bindythedemon @haikyall @hyuckslytherin @thatonearieschild @the-perfect-gemini @ialexabsuniverse @sleepingalaska @renjunniex @rebellionburnsthemup @moonchildwildx @sarcasticmichelle @carat-eri @ravennightingaleandavatempus @isthatyouritalian @cha0ticg0b1in @suwunarin @bxsmentchildxx @mintchip17 @vincent-stargogh @jules-skye @askgeoff @d-fendyr @diedestress @idiotinnit @gabbysblogthingy @call-me-soap @fujiapfel @stxrryb1tch @onlynarry @squarky-sheep @ecao @ok-honey-blog @saltishima-rex @kodzukatcore @gwendolyn02 @kiwismoothies @flippyninja @xfihvru @anqelanqel @letkeefeswear @cantaloupe-draws @what-is-the-creature-oh-glob @theboywhocriedlupin

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #social media fic #dream social media fic #social media au

766 notes · View notes

sleepingdeath-light · 3 years ago

Text

Dimension Traveller Headcanons | Hunter [Golden Guard]

requested by @serenathewolf2

reader can be read as neutral but was requested as female

I struggled a lot with this set of headcanons, so the quality of this may have been impacted by that. So this will likely be reworked in the future.

reader is written through the lens of british fan experiences, so some things may not be necessarily generalisable (if so let me know)

After a long week of strain and school, all you really wanted to do was relax in of your tv and rewatch one of your new favourite series; The Owl House. As of late it become something of a comfort show - but, much to your vocal dismay, it was refusing to play; leaving the screen glitched and flickering whenever you attempted to click on its icon. Though after a while of tinkering with the screen and spamming the buttons on your remote, the programme finally started to play - flickering in and out of blackness before a shrill, loud noise rang out from the tv, knocking you out cold before you could try to stop it.

—

When you finally woke up you were almost blinded by the bright midday sun, squinting through your exhaustion and growing migraine to get your bearings - and very quickly realising that you were in a very different place.

You were laying on a lightly worn mattress, your head resting on a plush pillow and your eyes covered with a damp cloth

To your right was a balcony full of flourishing plants (though you couldn’t recognise them through your pain)

To your left was a mat and tray, itself covered with fresh pastries and a warm drink that smelled like tea - and that tasted like heaven when you strained to take a sip

Whoever had found you seemed kind, at least, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly unsettled at how you could have possibly gotten out of your room

Though, thankfully, you didn’t have to wait for much longer before you were greeted by a kind, deep voice

“Oh dear, Willow the human is awake!”

… human?

Willow?

It sounded familiar yet your mind refused to accept the possibility until the young witch hurried into the room and took your cloth from you, ringing it out and placing it in fresh, cool water

“Hey, how are you feeling? You looked pretty hurt when I found you.”

And that was the start of a very interesting, if slightly awkward, conversation wherein you carefully danced around the issue of your entrance to this world whilst Willow and her fathers carefully tended to your injuries.

“Does it hurt when I touch here?”

No, thank you for asking

“Do you remember how you got here? The portal got destroyed months ago…”

I’m sorry, no I don’t

“Would you like some more tea?”

Yes, please, as long as it’s no bother

All in all, they were all incredibly polite and hospitable throughout your recovery:

Willow would bring you her school books and teach you about the magic, culture and history of the Boiling Isles with a warm smile (filling in many gaps that the show had left in your mind)

She’d stay up with you (sharing her room with you throughout your recovery) and talk to you about her day, school, her friends and even ask you about the human world - not caring about your vagueness and passing it off as a result of your injury

Her parents gave you a roof over your head and plentiful fresh, handmade meals that kept you feeling well fed and, oddly enough, accepted despite your differences from the other residents of the Isle (not that you saw them, being confined to their home throughout your stay because of your injuries)

She even introduced you to her closest friends, Luz and Gus, very briefly through the medium of her crystal ball - which led to a number of interesting and fun conversations that were somewhat brief but all equally insightful into the world around you

And Luz was, naturally, quite relieved to know that she wasn’t completely alone anymore (even if your experiences of the human world didn’t match here)

Regardless of that small discrepancy, you still deeply enjoyed your chats with everyone and looked forward to being able to meet with them once you recovered - which seemed like it wouldn’t be too long as all the ointments and potions you’d been given were starting to do their job

—

It only took you a few short weeks to be back on your feet and back to normal, meaning you were finally able to accompany Willow as she went about her life and meet everyone she told you about (always wearing a hood or other concealing garment, of course).

Of everyone, you and Luz clicked the fastest and seemed to get along the best because of how similar you were in your experience - similar enough for you to almost want to tell her the truth, but something told you it might not be the best idea

She welcomed you into her small class and eagerly taught you all the glyphs she knew, her lessons oddly in depth and useful as you made an array of careful notes

Gus almost immediately started grilling about your life in the human world, comparing it to what he’d learned from Luz and excitedly exclaiming about how “everyone in the human appreciation club will love this!”

Amity was much more cautious around you, almost unsure of how to react and not entirely trusting what you said (not that she was wrong not to) but still treating you with respect as a friend of her “awesome girlfriend” - especially after you commented on how much of an adorable couple they were

Eda was skeptical initially but quickly took to you with open arms and plentiful teasing remarks - practically adopting you as she quizzed you about your time in recovery at Willow’s home

King took much longer to take to you, and rightfully so, but he still treated you mostly cordially for Luz’s sake (with a number of sarcastic comments and jokes at your expense of course - but that was a small price to pay to spend time in this amazing place)

Hooty was… well he was exactly as one would expect; excitable, energetic, eccentric and happy to see you… and loud

Very very loud

Lilith was incredibly polite towards you, but still very distant despite your attempts to get close to her (which she did seem to appreciate in a way)

In a word, you all respected each other as fellow students and gradually started to learn how to trust one another over the course of several weeks

As summer faded into autumn, you found yourself surrounded by a number of new friends and family - people that you wanted to protect and that would protect you in turn. However, not all things are meant to last and your peace was soon destroyed by the appearance of a certain member of the emperor’s coven at Eda’s doorstep.

You knew that they’d already met him, with Luz and Amity frequently recalling their own encounters with him - each told with varying levels of ire, disgust and disappointment

But, still, you hadn’t expected your weekly call with the Owl House residents to be interrupted by his appearance - unceremoniously announced by a chorus of surprised exclamations and Luz’s half worried, half scared voice

“Hunter, what are you doing here? What happened to you?”

Well that probably wasn’t good; not that you had the time to question it before she apologetically and hurriedly ended the conversation to tend to their unexpected visitor

Though that was probably for the best as you’d made a great effort to stay away from the “main plot” out of the fear that you’d make things worse - so maybe you should collectively leave Luz and Eda to deal with that particular… issue

But they wouldn’t let you hide forever and, eventually, Luz messed up and left a call going when she went out to run errands - something you didn’t notice until you heard a distinctly male voice speak up about something you couldn’t quite make out.

The conversation was incredibly awkward and stilted, relying on your own knowledge of Hunter and his desire to redeem himself by gaining the trust of Luz’s friends - and you just so happened to fit that description

Though with time you became less and less awkward around one another and, after a few dozen brief but decently insightful conversations, eventually came to call each other “friends”

By the time you’d been talking for a few weeks you were already starting to consider him a close friend - a notion that was seemingly reciprocated as you agreed to finally meet up in person and accompany him as he ran errands for Eda in Bonesborough

The conversation is light and pleasant, full of inside jokes and genuine compliments that leave you flushed and grinning from ear to ear - all whilst he grins and laughs in return (almost as though he’s hoping you won’t notice the red tint at the tips of his ears)

As you walked you didn’t realise just how close you’d gotten until your hands were casually brushing against each other and you were forcing down any feelings that could jeopardise your friendship - until he grabbed your hand on his own and smiled crookedly at you before looking away and sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand

It was nice, comforting even, to spend time with just him - even if you were just out shopping

That outing spiralled into something more serious, with you and Hunter going on weekly dates to test the waters for just shy of two months before you decided to take the dive and adopt the labels of “lovers” - though not without struggle or great contemplation. You even went on dates inside, sharing you passions for various other shows (excusing those that Luz didn’t know by saying they were exclusive to your region or came out after she left)

It was a relationship built on reluctant puppy love, wherein you both trusted each other deeply yet were reluctant to be completely vulnerable and open with each other

Hunter because of his trauma

And you because of the potential repercussions that could result from you being honest about how you came here

But as more and more time passed, and as your relationship became more set in stone, the guilt began to eat at you

Even if you would never go home, they deserved to know the truth - especially if it could give them the upper hand against Belos

So, after a week of hyping yourself up, you asked everyone to meet at the Owl House and you sat them down to calmly tell them the truth of your origins.

Naturally, they didn’t believe you at first - not until you gave them your phone and told them about things that you shouldn’t have known

Then the questions started

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“How did you get here then?”

“What happened to…”

You answered what you could, but you didn’t know everything and it left you all more stressed than content

Eda and Lilith had fallen silent, almost forlorn and guilty as they mulled over what you said

Luz was stammering, barely able to form a coherent sentence as she scrolled through her character profile - a very upset and angry Amity sat beside her (even if she hadn’t spoken yet, you knew she didn’t trust you completely anymore)

Willow looked slightly crestfallen but still smiled at you and hugged you - insisting that she was just happy you told her now (but you knew it took a lot for her to do that)

King was angry, and rightfully so, stomping around and accusing you of working with the emperor and using them for your own benefit

Gus was asking the most questions - leaving you with a lingering feeling of guilt whenever you couldn’t answer him

And Hunter…

Hunter walked out of the house, his face stoic and not even looking at you as he left - but you couldn’t even be angry with him; he had the right to be angry with you, after all

After your confession it took a while for them to talk to you properly and genuinely again - with only Willow, Luz and Gus being willing to stay in contact with you. Though, even then, it was a very slow and careful process for them to trust you like they did before.

Eda was the first to forgive you, with Lilith following closely behind; recalling their own pasts and recognising your reasoning behind keeping your origins from people

Hooty didn’t really distrust you at any point, but you never really spoke

Amity was next, approaching you with caution and suspicion before insisting that you never lie to her like that again - that she understood your reasoning but you should have told them all earlier

Then was King, who looked at you with a simmering anger but who recognising that you were protecting them - only really approaching you after Luz and Eda welcomed you back into their home

Hunter was the very last to speak to you again, starting off by being short with you and avoiding you at all costs before slowly starting to converse with you again

He still loved you, but he didn’t trust you like he did before - in his mind you should have told him immediately and you had plenty of chances to be honest earlier

So it would take a lot of work to get back to a place where you could be together again

But once you start working with them to take down the emperor, and you start spending more time with Hunter, it would give you the chance to build up a more trusting and open bond with him. And when you get back together, your relationship is stronger together and you’re able to read each other with ease - not that you’d ever lie again, he’s just a bit more cautious and observant than before.

In short, once you and Hunter slowly rekindle your relationship it would be significantly stronger than before and your honesty would bring you closer together. It would be built on a foundation of friendship, honesty and trust that would allow you to be so much more open to one another (both in regards to intimacy and general conversation).

#sleepingdeath #reader insert #hcs #headcanons #toh #the owl house #toh x reader #the owl house x reader #toh golden guard #toh hunter #the owl house golden guard #the owl house hunter #hunter x reader #golden guard x reader #female reader

119 notes · View notes

cower-before-power · 3 years ago

Text

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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

“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles. “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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

Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey @chaotic-nick @manjiroarchiviste

#meet cute collab #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader

260 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 3 years ago

Text

Why Worry At All?

I had so much trouble writing certain parts of this out for some reason, which makes no sense to me because I chose to write this on my own without a prompt. But I finally nailed out the in between parts that were giving me trouble! So... Billy Kametz can sing, huh?

Xiaotian knew what they were hearing. They knew it!

They'd heard Xiaojiao before and she wasn't that deep. They'd never heard Sandy but he had to sound much deeper if he could. Tang and Pigsy were out of the question, Tang couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and Pigsy never did more than hum at a much different octave. It couldn't have been Wukong, he'd still been asleep from overexerting himself in their last fight.

So that only left Macaque as the one who could have been singing outside the med bay door.

“But then I guess we know there’s blame to share... and none of it seems to matter anymore...”

It was such a soft tune, something that Xiaotian barely recognized from a video online he watched long ago. Maybe something Xiaojiao had shown him. Something soft and gentle, which made no sense given the possible culprit. Or the fact he heard it being sing just outside his mentor’s room while he was checking on him. But he was hearing it through the door nonetheless. Almost whisper like in how soft it was, it was too weak to have been heard belted from a distance, and muttered almost a bit off tune. That only left it being from someone right outside the door. But why not just come inside?

Unless the singer, who again Xiaotian was certain was Macaque, didn’t want anyone- even Sun Wukong- to know it was them who was singing and they didn’t realize that anyone was in the room with the power drained immortal.

So, like anyone who heard a mysterious singing voice would do, they pulled out their phone and started recording.

The song only lasted for another few seconds before silence, and then the almost deafening in comparison sound of running footsteps.

And as Xiaotian looked down at the recording on the phone, less than even 20 seconds in length, they were struck by a realization.

“... I can use this.”

“Well well well,” Macaque said with a chuckle, turning to face the person who joined him on the deck of the self piloting drone ship. Just where they knew he would be at this hour of the morning. “Didn’t take you for a morning person, kid.”

“I’m not,” Xiaotian grumbled, hair down and unkempt and clearly barely brushed just to keep it out of their face. "But I wanted to check on Wukong after what happened yesterday.”

This made the other’s fur stand up and his tail tense, though whether this was because he realized what Xiaotian meant or of it brought his mind back to the fight of the day prior they couldn’t tell. The fight that, for some reason, Macaque left himself vulnerable during. That left him wiped out and barely able to move out of the way of an oncoming attack. That make Sun Wukong rush in and save him much to the surprise of everyone involved, Macaque himself included.

The fight that Xiaotian was beginning to think was going to change a lot more than just knowing the de-powered duo’s limits.

“You’re going to be honest with me for once.” they proposed, joining the immortal monkey at the guard railing he casually leaned against.

“What makes you think I’m going tell you anything?” Macaque asked, chuckling boastfully and smirking that damn smug smirk he’d been wearing almost every minute since he had been taken onto the ship.

The longer Xiaotian saw it the faker it seemed to be.

“Oh, I dunno... maybe this?” They rebutted, pulling out their phone and hitting play on the open audio file they had pulled up long before the conversation, and they watched with their own smirk as a look of surprise and then horror and then something akin to “resigned but impressed” flashed on the ancient demon’s face.

After hearing the other speak there was no doubt that the two voices were identical now.

“Qi Xiaotian,” Macaque said, an almost cat like smirk gracing his face. This one seemed slightly more honest than the last one. “I didn’t take you for a blackmailer. Maybe I did have an influence on you after all.”

“Why were you singing this outside Wukong’s room?” Xiaotian asked, not in the mood for playing the other’s games this early in the morning. “Why were you trying to hide it? Why did you not realize I was in there? And...” He gestured to his phone, the soft gentle sounds of an almost uncharacteristically sweet song playing through his speakers. “What the hell is this song!?”

“Alright alright,” Macaque said, holding up his hands before he leaned forward on the railing. “No need to give the the third degree, great hero. It’s just a song I heard online.”

“You know how to use the internet?”

Turning his head, Macaque leveled the other with a very over exaggerated wilting gaze of disbelief. “I am honestly offended you’d think I wouldn’t learn how to.”

The tone of voice he had did not give the impression that Macaque even gave a shit, but Xiaotian muttered an apology regardless, to which the other simply laughed at.

“There’s this guy... Bill something? Kinds sounds like me, you know. Found him by chance one day and just kinda looked for all his songs and memorized them a long time ago out of boredom.” He shrugged, a distant far off look on his face. “Almost considered just being a copy cat voice for him once, way before I found out where our great King was, but I never followed through with that. Shame, though, knowing I’m on par with Broadway. Probably could have snagged a pretty decent amount of yuan from desperate fans. Don’t really have much use for money, though so eh.”

He shrugged, and for once he sounded... honest. Just honest.

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it, not from you anyway. Just... didn’t wanna deal with Wukong waking up and hearing me sing for the first time after. Ya know.” He waved his hand with another shrug. “History and all that. It was just a moment I had with myself, nothing more.”

Xiaotian took particular note that he avoided one particular question.

“You’re awful open about all this stuff,” the Monkie Kid mused, the two of them watching the horizon slowly move under the drone ship as the sun rise continued. Everyone else would be getting up soon enough. “Even for blackmail.”

“It’s not really effective blackmail,” Macaque admitted after a moment, tail lazily swishing behind him. “Not content wise, anyway. I was bound to be heard eventually no matter how much I hid. Think of this as more a... reward for you being able to catch me unaware. Take a lot of skill to do that with my ears.”

“I know most of your powers are gone too,” Xiaotian said bluntly, dropping the real piece of information he was here to hold over the other’s head out in the open, and that got Macaque to freeze instantly. “Not like ours are but... I dunno. I didn’t really think that far ahead. But if you still had most of them we wouldn’t be talking right now. You ran away instead of just whooshing into the shadows I know were in the hall. You’ve been wearing earplugs since we let you stay, I saw Sandy give them to you and you’re even wearing them right now, but even with your hearing dulled you would have been able to know I was in that room. You’ve been walking through doors instead of just vanishing. I don’t think I’d seem you walk through one except for at the shadow play before last week, and that was obviously to get my attention. I don’t think I’ve seen you make a clone or transform either, or manipulate a single shadow. Why not flaunt your powers over us, knowing we don’t have ours since you’ve made a point to annoy us about our lost abilities, unless you don’t have yours too?”

The elder said nothing, only growled and glowered out at the horizon before letting out a deep sigh.

“You really are a good kid,” he said with a humorless chuckle. “Smart, too, when actually you put your mind to stuff. But you’re only half right.”

“What do you mean?” Xiaotian asked in shock, amazed that the other was even still admitting to anything point blank at this point.

“I still have all my powers, it’s just... Not a good idea for me to use them too much,” he said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders and turning to walk away from the young man in a way that clearly indicated this line of conversation was over with. “I know you can keep a secret, kid, so do me a favor. Keep quiet about this.”

That same humorless chuckle, the one the young man now realized was more common from the demon’s mouth than not, sounded as he stepped into the forming shadows of the driver’s post from the rising sun and seemed to fall and melt into the floor in an instant.

Xiaotian couldn’t help the flinch that ran through their body at the implications of that final sentence. His training of Xiaotian. The second meeting. The Calabash.

The White Bone Spirit...

“Asshole,” Xiaotian muttered under their breathe, taking the door instead.

The very first thing Xiaotian was greeted with when they entered the communal kitchen was low and muttered but still the less than whispered tune of a song by a pop punk bank from overseas.

“Why do we worry at aaaaall,” Macaque sang just loud enough for everyone around him to hear, the baffled and in some cased impressed faces of everyone (barring the presumably still resting Wukong) looking in his direction as he seemingly ignored them to prepare his own fruit based breakfast. “Why, just tell me why do we worry? When worries never happen tell me why, why worry at all?”

When Macaque turned to look at Xiaotian he smirked almost playfully, winking at him.

And the only thing that ran through Xiaotian’s head was “there goes half of my blackmail... asshole.”

Though... when he looked closer...

Macaque seemed oddly tired.

Did he have the dark bags under his eyes during their conversation before?

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #kinda sorta part of my s3 fic series #still debating on that #i wanted to work in the aladdin musical since billy was aladdin in that but i couldn’t find a song i liked #so i went with the joke/headcanon me and a few others on discord made about Set It Off being Macaque The Band #this isn't intended to be read as shadowpeach specifically but feel free to read it that was if you like!

170 notes · View notes

m42-fr · 4 years ago

Photo

Here’s my Lore Post™ on various types of common currency around Sorneith! Note that this covers only major forms of currency that can be found broadly throughout their territories of origin, or are otherwise culturally relevant in some way. This post does not include forms of currency that may exist between individual clans. If you happen to find that any of this worldbuilding goes well with your lore, feel free to use it so long as you credit me somewhere for the idea!

And, of course, a mandatory disclaimer: the names and lore of these currencies comes from my own head (and a random name generator). Any resemblance to anything from the real world is unintentional.

Vahrani (vah-RAH-nee) are small bronze coins that originate from the Ashfall Waste. Thanks to the Flamecaller’s ceaseless forges, vahrani are the most common and well-established metal-based currency in the world - and, in fact, are the most well-established currency in the world, period. Trade with the neighboring Windswept Plateau, which exports the products of Fire’s industry to every technologically developing region on the continent, has spread Ashfall coinage far and wide.

Most vahrani have been in circulation for decades, their surfaces oxidized completely teal-black. Pristine, metallic vahrani, either newly-minted or freshly polished, are considered a status symbol by some, but certain dragons may refuse to accept them as payment for fear that they have been recently (and illegally) forged. Vahrani jewelry makes use of the holes at their corners, stringing them together into necklaces, earrings, and other forms of decoration. In a pinch, vahrani can even be tiled together to create makeshift armor.

Vahrani come in units of one, five, and ten. These coins bear an identical picture of the Flamecaller on one side and have a number inscribed on the other, which indicates their worth. The runoff copper from the creation of vahrani bronze is pulled into small lumps and stamped with the sigil of Fire while the metal is still hot, creating small, misshapen coins called vasi - or, in common slang, slag - each worth a tenth of a vahrani. Vasi are not nearly as widespread as vahrani, but they make up the majority of the payroll for poorer dragons within the Ashfall Waste.

Suuram (SOOH-ram) are long, paper-thin copper chits used as currency within the southwestern Shifting Expanse. The very first suuram were copper wires that had been pounded into rough rectangular shapes, but modern suuram are machine-punched from massive metal sheets, ensuring an incredibly consistent size and weight. The asymmetrical pattern of crescent holes at their edges is meant only to distinguish them from simple copper pieces. In practice, the holes are often used to hold chains of coins together with cord or metal clips.

There is only one value of a suuram piece. Rather than create different coins with higher values, dragons exploit the extreme thinness of suuram sheets by packing pieces into small containers; informal higher-value units consist of rectangular boxes holding a carefully-counted number of coins. Carrying around large blocks of copper sheets can become awfully inconvenient, so five-and-ten vahrani pieces have become a popular alternative currency in the Expanse. Suuram are used mostly as pocket change.

Due to the relative geographic isolation of the far coast of the Stormcatcher’s territory, suuram are not particularly popular outside of the Shifting Expanse, and lack traction everywhere past the Charged Barrens. However, suuram are acknowledged as a valid currency in every territory with flourishing trade and worldwide connections, including the Ashfall Waste, Windswept Plateau, Sunbeam Ruins, Tangled Wood, Starfall Isles, and Dragonhome.

The northeastern region of the Shifting Expanse is home to independent scavenger-clans who have little need for formalized currency. Rather than conducting trade with stand-ins like coins, they prefer to directly exchange goods and services, determining the value of each with every new trade. That being said, they do occasionally make use of a form of unregulated, low-value currency, colloquially known as scrap.

Scrap refers to any collection of relatively small, portable, usually worn-down and otherwise useless metal chunks - rusty nails, old gears that don’t fit anywhere, spare nuts and bolts found half-buried in the sand, weathered iron spring-coils and copper wires, and so on. While scrap has no immediate survival value, it serves much the same purpose of currency in that it acts as a metaphorical stand-in for something that is of value, and can be exchanged with others for goods and services. Scrap is considered a valid currency within the northern Expanse, although it is often looked down upon as a ‘primitive’ coin in the more technologically developed regions around Goldensparc and the Lightning Farm.

Paxa (PACKS-uh) are hand-carved wooden chits infused with sparks of magic that keep them pristine even under the worst of abuse. Native to the Sunbeam Ruins, paxa owe their remarkably high value to the painstaking process of crafting them. Each coin is hand-carved to impossible standards of consistency, stained a beautiful deep ebony, and protected from damage with ancient Light artefact-preservation magicks. Their magical ‘fingerprint’ is nearly impossible to fake, which guards them from forgeries. The secret to creating paxa is zealously guarded by a handful of dragons who have dedicated their lives to the craft.

Paxa are a universally recognized coin, spread throughout the world by Light’s investment in research as well as their inherent value. Future-minded dragons convert their retirement savings into paxa, knowing that unlike many other currencies, the tight control on paxa production ensures that their value remains constant. Paxa is also the coin of choice for most illegal operations in Sorneith thanks to their high value and their impossibility to falsify.

The average working-class dragon, even in the Ruins, will struggle to get their talons on any significant amount of paxa. Paxa are used to facilitate expensive transactions, and as such are favored by merchants, the wealthy, and the criminal; throughout most of the Sunbeam Ruins, workers are paid in vahrani, with the occasional handful of suuram thrown in for variety.

The origin of wek-ya, (WEK-yuh) Shadow’s mercurial coinage, is shrouded in mystery. Nobody knows when or where the first wek-ya were made - and, in fact, nobody knows how to make wek-ya at all. Ambitious blacksmiths who try their hand at smelting some are invariably struck with tides of bad luck that force them to close shop. And, moreover, the Tangled Wood can hardly be said to have an established government, so the presence of such a widespread and standardized currency is a curiosity in and of itself.

Wek-ya are crafted of pure silver, or something that resembles it. Each coin has two unique patterns - one to either side - that depict an incredibly broad array of subjects. The most common motifs are crescent moons, mushrooms, thorns, and dancing dragon figures, but there have been wek-ya known to picture oddly specific situations, such as trees being struck by lightning, rats climbing atop bookshelves, and draconic silhouettes that bear a strange resemblance to the viewer in the midst of suffering some catastrophe. Many dragons believe that wek-ya are infused with divination magic; coins are commonly drawn from bags to determine future events, and some individuals claim that their fortunes are told by the wek-ya they receive in trades.

While wek-ya are the most common form of money in the Tangled Wood, they’re incredibly rare elsewhere. Common superstition holds that removing a wek-ya from its homeland will curse the coin’s bearer until it has been returned. There appears to be some vague truth to the statement, as the coins are known to have a way of mysteriously disappearing when they’ve spent too much time away from the Shadowbinder’s influence.

Wek-ya are capable of emitting a dim glow for several hours after being exposed to moonlight. Conversely, they’ve also been known to spontaneously melt when placed in sunlight, permanently disfiguring their faces - such coins are considered overwhelmingly taboo by most residents of the Wood and are traditionally thrown into bogs, rivers, and liquid-shadow ponds, such that they may be forever forgotten.

Dazal (day-ZAHL) are large, chunky coins cut from smoky quartz. They come from Dragonhome, make for an uncommon sight in the northern Starfall Isles and Tangled Wood, and are rare elsewhere. No one institution governs the production of dazal, but most dragons don’t go out of their way to fake them - the coins are used predominantly within the handful of high-population regions of Dragonhome, particularly Terraclae and the Colonnades of Antiquity. Thanks to Light’s vested interest in archaeology, paxa are the most common currency in Dragonhome’s urbanized regions, followed by the eponymous vahrani.

Unlike suuram, which are largely shunned by Lightning’s more independent desert-dwelling clans, the value of dazal is respected by clans among even the most rural and harsh environments of Dragonhome. Most groups will carry at least a handful of them to use in trades - a few dazal will buy a weary traveler water and other goods. The nomadic routes of the Snappers often bring them to urban areas every now and again, which makes holding onto the currency useful, if occasionally burdensome.

The distribution of colors and patterns in a dazal is unique to every coin. Dazal have no varied values in a legal sense, but many individuals within Dragonhome will accept morion dazal - that is, those made of smoky quartz so uniformly dark as to be nearly black - as being worth twice as much as a singular dazal (or equivalent to one wek-ya). Some seek out dazal with unusual color schemes for collection purposes. Another commonly-sought variant is a coin without any scuffs; though crystalline, most older dazal are ridden with chips and cracks.

The Sea of a Thousand Currents has no legally recognized currency. The stinging seawater makes metal-based money impractical, and even the magical toughness of paxa and arcslivers will wear under the waves. Among the more isolated, aquatic clans, though, an informal coin known as vanes (VAIN) are used in some transactions. Vanes are seashells that have been chipped and polished into glistening, guitar-pick shaped chits.

The production, distribution, and value of vanes is entirely unregulated. Any dragon with strong hands and sandpaper can collect seashells and file them to the right shape and smoothness. As such, individual vanes vary widely in color, texture, and shape. The value of a vane is equally variable - no bank in the world accepts vanes as legal tender, although they are acknowledged as being incredibly low-value, presuming they have any worth at all.

Bags of vanes are often exchanged by coastal and reef-dwelling clans as stand-ins for the payment of debt. If an individual needs a good or service, but cannot pay for it at the time, they can hand over some vanes that serve as a sort of credit, later giving something of real value in return for their lent vanes.

Among the roughshod sailors of the Sea, bilgespray is a tawdry term used to refer to any collective mix of multiple types of currency. The wide variety of territories that they visit throughout their trading routes means that they inevitably collect a number of different types of coin. The term, ‘bilgespray,’ usually refers to a singular payout given in more than one type of currency, but used more broadly may account for any messy assortment of multiple types of money.

Popular within the urban areas of the central Starfall Isles, arcslivers (ARK-slih-vur) are tokens cut from the same magically-refined arcglass that makes up the shell of the Astrolodome. Their edges are inscribed with faintly-glowing runes that, like paxa, protect them from damage, although their enchantments are comparatively weaker. The appearance and value of an arcsliver is standardized; their production is controlled by banks within the Astrolodome and neighboring communities.

Well-wrought trading routes have established arcslivers as a valid currency throughout the entirety of the Isles. However, they have very little steading outside of Arcane’s territory. Similar to suuram, geographic isolation has kneecapped their spread, with traveling arcslivers found mostly in the neighboring regions of Dragonhome and the Windswept Plateau; a handful make their way to the Sea of a Thousand Currents and beyond from there. Though rare, they are legally acknowledged in institutions around Sorneith.

Given the extremely well-connected, trade-focused culture of the Windswept Plateau, every currency - even strange or worthless ones, like wek-ya and vanes - can be found in abundance among Windsinger’s children. Vahrani from the neighboring Ashfall Waste are the most common coin, followed by paxa and arcslivers. Wind does not have a traditional currency in the way that other territories do. Rather than use a standardized object to represent physical value, Wind’s unusual currency holds strictly social value. These objects are called kuo (KOO-oh). They are long, ribbonlike textiles, made from hundreds of tiny interwoven beads, and are as much art as they are money.

The length of an individual kuo can vary considerably. Most are long enough to be used as sashes and belts, or be hung up as colorful banners. The harvesting, sculpting, weaving, and painting of their miniscule beads takes a painstaking amount of time and skill. As a monetary system, they indicate debts, allegiances, and other forms of social ‘money,’ whether paid or owed. The perceived value of a kuo is usually based on its size and craftsmanship - the longer and prettier, the better.

While more rural and traditional clans will use kuo for their original purpose, younger generations - particularly those living in more urbanized areas - forgo the social value of kuo and create them for artistic purposes. The creation of an individual kuo ribbon is considered a long and meditative pastime. The patterns in every ribbon are unique, and the abundance of beads and paints mean that elaborate images can be threaded along the strings; given the extensive length of most kuo, many are used to depict the events of stories, be they mythical or factual. The longest kuo is rumored to be a ribbon that stretches the distance of the Cloudsong and depicts an embellished version of the Windswept Plateau’s entire history.

In recent times, dragons have begun to weave kuo as gifts and decorations. Many young lovers and best friends will create kuo for one another, its pictures personalized to the other’s interests and personality, and wear the bands that they themselves were given (usually as scarves, sashes, or bracelets) in an open declaration of their bond. Kuo are becoming an increasingly popular export of the Windswept Plateau. Eager to share their culture with the world, Wind dragons often sell and gift kuo to travelers, and some have even begun to export them to other territories.

The rough, lonesome barrens of the Southern Icefield makes the establishment of currency incredibly difficult. Like other harsh environments in Sorneith - the Shifting Expanse, Dragonhome, the Scarred Wasteland, and so on - coins are not particularly useful for immediate survival, and so trades are preferentially conducted with goods and services rather than coins. Northernmost or otherwise trade-savvy clans may occasionally cut deals with foreigners using vahrani, arcslivers, and even suuram.

The ancient institutions of the Gaolers, for all their fervence with law and order, never had reason to establish an expansive currency amongst themselves. The basic needs of all individuals are cared for free of charge; anything fancier is either owned communally, acquired by advancing in rank, or traded for without monetary stand-ins. Among a few circles, though - and particularly popular in teaching discipline to younger recruits - is a token system using units called snowcoins.

Snowcoins are very simple constructions. At their core is a singular link of a metal chain, which is encapsulated in magically-unmelting ice. The surface of a snowcoin is smooth and convex, forming an oblong shape not unlike a river stone, and they are remarkably translucent. Snowcoins, then, are a small reward earned through various services and good behavior, and can be traded in for small personal luxuries. The things snowcoins can buy consist mostly of curios and other decorative trinkets.

Given that snowcoins are used only by the Gaolers, their existence is almost completely unheard of throughout Sorneith, even in the neighboring Snowsquall Tundra. Only a tiny handful have ever made it out of the Icefield - and even then, most of those found away from the Icewarden are replicas, not genuine. Those who are in possession of snowcoins usually regard them as oddities and collectibles. They hold some mildly curious historic value, but little else.

For all their hatred for one another, the territories of the Scarred Wasteland and Viridian Labyrinth share a similar trait: neither has much in the way of currency. The Labyrinth prizes self-sufficiency and its clans want for little. Their isolationist nature has created a strict limitation on the influx of foreign currency - not even vahrani have made it past their coastal regions. Those from Nature who detest outside influence often use the derogatory term rootmuck to refer to any form of outside currency.

While Plague has a similar lack of established money, they don’t hold the same wariness of foreigners that the Gladekeeper’s children do. Most Plague clans see no reason in shunning something that may help them acquire useful things in the future. Various currencies are common at their respective borders - dazal in the north, wek-ya in the east, vahrani to the south, and arcslivers to the west.

That being said, their central clans, much like those of the northwestern Shifting Expanse, trade mostly survival supplies with one another. Guttergunk is an informal term from the Wasteland that applies to any assortment of individually worthless items that are bundled together to have some collective value. Guttergunk is not anything that could keep you alive; it’s made of things like small trophies - teeth, scales, horns -, the last of old food preserves, tattered pieces of canvas, balls of string, and so forth. Trade offers of guttergunk are considered trashy, greedy, or desperate; in other words, a sign of either arrogance or weakness, perhaps both.

Alternatively, the term may apply to anything considered gross and worthless: “Your efforts are guttergunk,” is an example of a common insult. The word has become popular in neighboring territories, particularly by residents of the Driftwood Drag and sailors of the Sea of a Thousand Currents, and among them it has much the same meaning.

#flight rising #my lore #my headcanons #my art #my worldbuilding #long post #the flamecaller #THREE. THOUSAND. WORDS.#this post KILLED me to write #but man did i have fun... the drawings were especially really neat #I'm very fond of how vahrani. paxa. and vanes came out in particular #rip vanes my worthless children but i love you anyways

238 notes · View notes

titan-fodder · 3 years ago

Text

Overwhelming Pt. 3

<< prev || m.list || next >>

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Pairing: Keiji Akaashi x Reader

wc: ~ 6.5K

Warnings: fluff, explicit sexual content, honestly very vanilla sex, spa stuff

A/N: this has been my plan for part three for literally over a year, and I finally did it, wow, go me. If all goes to plan, every boy will get highlight chapters, but there will still be group chapters of course. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Your stomach flips at the knock on your door despite having been expecting it for the last twenty minutes, and you nearly trip over your own feet when you move to answer it. As instructed, you’re dressed for comfort in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, but for a moment you fear you might be looking a little too casual. It isn’t like you’re trying to impress anyone, but you don’t want to look like a complete bum either.

The anxiety in your chest wanes immediately when you open the door and find Akaashi on the other side of it wearing joggers and an old Fukurōdani gym shirt. His contacts have been switched out in favor of black, thick-rimmed glasses, and when he shows a soft, close-lipped smile, you’re struck with how pretty he is.

“Hey,” he greets softly. When all you do is blink a little dumbly, still admiring him, he reaches into his pocket and holds up a little white gift card. “Tsukki stopped by the house yesterday and literally tossed this at my face, so I guess this is what we’re doing today.”

You take the card from him and read over the loopy text, the name of a nearby spa you’ve heard of before. Eyebrows raised, you consider grabbing your phone and texting Tsukishima back, ask him just what he thinks he’s up to, but you suppose you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“That’s very… uncharacteristic of him,” you mutter, then slap a grin on your face because really, you can’t say you’re not excited to spend the day being pampered, especially if it’s with Akaashi.

The two of you haven’t had the chance to spend time together one-on-one since the start of this beautiful, casual thing, but everyone has hung out in group settings on many occasions. Movies and lunches and walks out on the town, and even through the chaotic dynamic, Akaashi has proven himself to be extremely perceptive and very thoughtful. He learned your boba order in record time, noticed your penchant for sweets and makes sure to keep the house well-stocked with them. He made a point of asking what your favorite scents were and proceeded to buy them in the form of shampoo and conditioner so that you’ll always have some in his bathroom after things get messy.

Akaashi is quiet, even more so than Tsukki (probably because he doesn’t feel the need to talk shit 24/7), but as conversations happen around them, he tunes into them, listening for cues, for little hints, and because of that he’s managed to coil himself in your chest and around your heart alarmingly quickly.

“It is. I checked the envelope for traps—a glitter bomb or something—”

“Seems like something he’d do,” you snicker.

“But, I think he’s being genuine with it. He told me he wants you to be able to relax after—well, you know.” You nod, twirling the card around in your hand. “And, I just so happen to be the lucky one who gets to wind down with you.”

“I feel like I’m on The Bachelor or something. This is our arranged date.”

Akaashi chuckles, muttering a low, “Matchmaker Tsukki. Who would’ve thought?”

You slip back into the apartment to slide your feet into sandals, then grab your keys and lock the door before following Akaashi downstairs to his car, a little hatchback that’s oddly befitting of him. Some vaguely familiar indie band starts playing when he turns it on, and you settle into the passenger side, trying not to feel so giddy and accidentally offset Akaashi’s already very zen mood.

“Have you ever been to this place before?” He asks.

You shake your head. “You?”

“No, but Bo has,” he grins. “He gets those deep tissue massages and then whines about being sore for a few days.”

“I’ll definitely stay away from that then. Don’t have the highest pain tolerance.”

You don’t miss the way Akaashi quirks an eyebrow, his lips twisting to the side as if to fight off another smile, and you laugh to yourself and add, “Most of the time.”

“Mhm.”

“Shush.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Though the banter isn’t as constant as it is with Tsukishima, and the conversation isn’t as loud as it is with Kuroo or Bokuto, you still find the drive nice, peaceful even. Akaashi speaks up when he has something to say about a song or a restaurant you pass by, and you respond with anecdotes of your own, watching the buildings pass by the window.

When you arrive at the spa—a large building with the aesthetic of a rustic inn—Akaashi gives your name, and you’re extremely surprised all over again to find that an appointment has already been made for the two of you. When you look to the man beside you, he shrugs his shoulders and suggests, “Must’ve been Tsukki,” which is just too hard to wrap your head around. You know he can be soft when necessary, when you need him to be, but this is unprecedented.

You almost want to make fun of him, if you’re being honest, but again: gift horse. Mouth. Not looking into it.

“Couple’s pampering, correct?” The young woman behind the counter asks. You feel your cheeks heat, but you nod in confirmation, and when she tells you the total of the spa treatment, your eyes nearly bug out of your skull.

Akaashi purses his lips but seems otherwise unaffected, handing the gift card over and telling you, “He said the card would cover it, so…”

And, it does. You’re really going to have to have a conversation with Tsukishima after all of this is said and done because it’s just too much. For now, though, you gladly follow the attendant down the hall and to a back room where you’re offered prosecco and told to undress and put on a robe.

“When you’re ready, it’s just through that door, but take your time. Finish your drink, eat some if you’d like,” she says, motioning to a small table stacked with fruits and pastries.

Once she leaves and the door shuts, you look Akaashi dead in the eye and say, “I’m gonna murder him.”

“No, you won’t. You deserve this,” he says, lifting the hand not holding his little champagne flute and brushing hair behind your ear so that you shiver. Oh, that’s soft. That’s butterflies-inducing soft. “I, however, do not, so I will do the honors of murdering him.”

You giggle and take a sip of your own drink, feeling just bold enough to step forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder. Akaashi is warm and sturdy. He has that same wiry muscle that Tsukishima does, only it’s packed in a little more tightly given his shorter stature. You inhale, take in his cologne, and try not to sound like a schoolgirl when you sigh dreamily.

His hand moves down to the small of your back, and you hear him swallow another bubbly mouthful before pressing his lips to your head and humming, “Come on, I’m excited for these fluffy robes.”

And, fluffy they are, ridiculously so, soft against your bare skin that had heated to dangerous levels when you caught Akaashi staring as you changed. He didn’t seem ashamed about getting caught either, which is sort of a relief, because if he had been, you would have just blown him off about it. He has, afterall, seen a lot of you. In various states. At this point, the shy boy act would probably annoy you more than anything.

As the attendant had suggested, you finish your prosecco and nibble at some of the food before easing open the second door of the room. Two masseuses are waiting for you on the other side, both smiling politely from behind their respective massage tables. There’s a small tray beside each covered in different bottles, creams, and burning incense, and a cliche, though very calming, soundscape is playing from an unseen speaker.

You’ve never been to a place like this before, but you could definitely get used to it. Even without experiencing any of the actual treatments, this is the life of fucking luxury.

The robes are lost, and Akaashi aims a subtle wink in your direction that makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s slowly becoming clear that out of everyone, all four men, he is the smoothest of them all. Yes, Kuroo has a smile to die for, and Bokuto is the king of compliments. Tsukki knows how to touch (and spoil) you just right, but Akaashi… Akaashi is suave.

It’s a little unnerving because you are anything but. Just Tsukishima’s fuck-buddy who was curious and desperate enough to spread her legs for three more people. It’s probably not a good look, so there’s really no reason for any of them to be so kind to you, especially this self-assured, refined aspiring artist.

You’re thankful for the masseuse standing over you, making your mind go blank with ease as she presses warm hands into your skin. She uses palms and knuckles to work up your spine and spread over your shoulders, effectively washing the tension and deprecating thoughts from you.

Face hanging in the cradle, all you can see when you open your eyes are the floorboards, polish shining even in the dim lighting, and when they fall shut again, you let them, not exactly dozing off but retreating to some far-away place in the back of your mind.

Knots you didn't know you had are worked out methodically, leaving you feeling looser than you've possibly ever been before. It's silent, save for the singing bell that's playing, a mostly monotone ringing that's strangely soothing. Those musicians in Nepal really knew what they were doing.

Time slips away, but after getting oil rubbed into your skin several times over, the back massage ends, and the masseuse is helping you sit up. Your limbs feel like jelly, and when you look over at Akaashi, he blinks sleepy eyes at you, his glasses folded on the little table between brown bottles. You can see the imprint of the leather face cradle on his cheekbones and can't help but grin at him lazily, warmth blooming inside of you when he shows a similar smile.

"Just give us a few minutes and the ladies who perform the facials will be in here," the woman who's been working on Akaashi informs you before leaving with the other masseuse.

If it were Bo or Kuroo here with you—maybe even Tsukki on the right day—you'd hear a snicker and amused, "Hah, facials."

But, it's Akaashi, so neither of you feel the need to acknowledge it which is a nice change of pace. Not everything needs to be innuendo all the time.

"That was nice," he muses, stretching his arms out above him and showing off the muscles of his abdomen. You try not to stare, barely even let your eyes wander, but the quick flick downward is still enough to make your mouth start watering a bit.

Your own robe is mostly closed, hiding now hardening nipples but still showing a generous amount of cleavage. It could be you flattering yourself, but you think Akaashi might spare your chest a glance.

"Yeah, it was. Tsukki needs to be careful, or I'm gonna start requesting spa days after every, uh—you know."

Akaashi tilts his head to the side as if curious then tells you, "You can say it out loud. I'm not about to judge you. I was right there with you the first time, a willing participant."

"I know, I know." You shrug your shoulders and suck on the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze as you try to think of the right words. "I just feel like… I don't have as good a read on you as the others, I guess. Probably because you keep your thoughts to yourself way more than they do." He smiles softly at this but stays quiet (as usual), letting you elaborate. "I don't really know your boundaries, like… what you're comfortable with talking about, what makes you tick or what embarrasses you or… whatever."

In one smooth motion, Akaashi slides off the massage table and takes two or three steps forward to stand directly in front of you.

"My best friend is Bokuto. Not a lot embarrasses me these days," he says, hooking a finger under your chin so that you can't look away. "It's a short list, and you're definitely not on it. Don't act like you’re something we should be ashamed of because we like you a lot."

You can feel your lips part as you stare up at him, your feet dancing nervously where they hang, and your voice comes out mousy when you prompt, "Including you?"

Akaashi nods wordlessly, then bends to kiss you for emphasis. The fluff of his robe pools between your fingers when you grasp it, pulling yourself up a bit to meet him at a better angle.

His mouth is warm against yours, lips soft, tongue exploratory as it slowly glides over your own. Almost immediately you're taken back to that first day, the way you had cried and shivered until you got into the shower with him, how his hands felt gently running over your skin with a loofah and how he hummed calming words into your ear when he pressed himself against you from behind.

Your fingers inch up to the back of his neck before carding through dark, curling hair, and you feel Akaashi's posture relax under your touch. One more step forward and he's slotted flush against you, hips nestled between your spread legs, and he grinds against you in a subtle way while simultaneously tugging your lower lip into his mouth.

A soft moan sounds loud in the quiet room but not as loud as the throat clearing from the doorway. Wide-eyed and blushing, you pull away from Akaashi and look to find two more unfamiliar ladies standing at the mouth of the room, both with amused expressions.

"S-sorry," you croak, feeling hot from head to toe for more reasons than one.

One of the women waves a hand as she steps further into the room, announcing, "Not the most explicit thing I've walked in on, believe me."

Akaashi chuckles and walks backward to the table he previously occupied, and after a few more bashful jokes, you lay on your back and allow your new masseuse to work more magic on you.

The facial is divine, skin being stretched and massaged, moisturized and rejuvenated. This time you end up dozing off into that space between sleep and wakefulness, the scent of rose hip and lavender relaxing you completely until you feel a light tapping at your jaw.

Opening bleary eyes, you find your masseuse grinning down at you. "Hope you enjoyed yourself."

You snicker and nod, then stretch on the table. Akaashi is already sitting up, face a little shiny from whatever oils that were used, but he looks as blissed out as you feel.

"So, the treatment portion of your day is over, but you still have access to the rest of the spa facilities," one of the women informs you. "I personally recommend the hot spring out back, but we also have a lap pool, steam room, sleep pods, and so on."

"Excellent," Akaashi says, rubbing his hands together before looking at you. "Ready to explore?"

"Absolutely."

You thank the employees, apologize again for what they walked in on earlier, then make your way out to the private hallways reserved for staff and guests. There are several signs hanging on the walls, all pointing to different facilities, and eventually, you and Akaashi end up outside in the recommended hot spring.

There's only one other person soaking, an older lady who you don't pay any mind as you slip off your robe and step into the water naked as the day you were born.

The sky is a perfect light blue from what you can see between the leaves hanging above you, the rhythmic tap of the sōzu echoing over the flow of water.

It's nice. Very nice. And as you sink into the spring, you have to make a conscious effort not to moan out loud. Any of the soreness that you developed over the course of the back massage seeps from your body, bones turning to liquid as you let yourself melt.

Akaashi hisses as he eases in, but once he’s more than halfway submerged, he lets out a little, “Oh, that’s fucking spectacular.”

Steam plumes around him, little dew drops already hanging from his hair. His face is flushed from the warmth of the water, and you’d like to say that’s why yours is too, but in truth it’s because he’s wading toward you, and though the water obscures him from the waist down, you still know what’s hidden underneath, still want it.

Finding your hand beneath the ripples, Akaashi laces his fingers with yours then gently pulls you to the layered stones at the side of the spring, serving as both steps and seats.

He doesn’t hold you against him or pull you into his lap which is for the best. The other guest probably would not appreciate witnessing all the things you’d like to do, and besides, Akaashi doesn’t seem like the exhibitionist type, not as adventurous as his friends, though just as bold and confident.

So, you sit peacefully by his side, rocking any way the water moves you, listening to the small fountain and echo of bamboo. Birds chirp, the wind blows, and Akaashi sighs in what sounds like utter satisfaction.

“All this pampering is making me sleepy,” he confesses, eyes drooping when you glance over at him.

“The lady said they have sleep pods or whatever. Might be worth checking out.”

He shakes his head just before letting it loll and rest against yours. “I can hold it off for a while longer. What do you wanna do after this?”

There are many things you’d like to do, but if you’re being honest with yourself, a nap sounds fucking great right about now, and though the sleep pods are probably very cool and relaxing…

“Wanna soak in here for a while longer and then crawl into my own bed… Preferably with you.”

“I can definitely make that happen.”

You lean back against the stones, smile when you feel Akaashi stroke your thigh underwater, letting the sensation soothe you rather than arouse you. It would be a much harder task if you didn’t feel like a bag of goo, but the spa treatment has drained you, and the hot springs are sapping you of what little energy you have left.

About twenty more minutes pass until Akaashi mumbles, “m’getting pruny,” in a drowsy voice.

You nod in agreement and stand, feeling his hand slip from your leg as you do and immediately missing it. Thankfully, Akaashi follows closely, stepping back onto grass and bundling you in your robe before he dons his.

The two of you take a couple wrong turns on your way back to the first room you were taken to, walking around the facility almost drunkenly until you stumble back into familiar territory where you dry off the rest of the way and pull on your clothes. Akaashi eats a stale scone, frowning the entire time until he swallows. You reach to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of his mouth, snickering at his pout then grinning widely when he tugs you closer for a kiss.

“Blueberry,” you murmur into his lips before flicking your tongue out, just for a little taste.

Akaashi inhales sharply, the shortest and quietest of grunts leaving his throat. His hands curl around your hips, anchoring you in place as he deepens the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours, nipping and biting until he’s panting, and then—

“Okay, good, I’m awake enough to drive now.”

You snort, give him another peck, then step out of his grip and lead the way to the door.

The concierge up front offers a kind goodbye, and you and Akaashi wave your free hands, others linked at the fingers and swinging between the two of you.

That same, soft indie plays in the car, the ride home feeling much faster than the ride to the spa. It could be that you just feel more comfortable after spending a few hours with the man next to you. It could be that you doze off a couple times. Either way, you’re glad that Akaashi has agreed to come up to your apartment with you because you aren’t anywhere near ready to say goodbye to him yet.

The place isn’t a complete mess, thank god, just a disorganized table, a few pairs of shoes in corners, and a rumpled throw blanket on the couch. You don’t bother turning any of the lights on, the window in the little kitchenette giving you enough to navigate to your bedroom. Akaashi is looking around curiously but doesn’t touch anything or ask any questions. You’ll offer him the full tour when you wake up. For now, though…

“I don’t think I’ve ever been sleepier in my entire life,” you groan, clumsily kicking off your sandals first, then your leggings, almost falling over in the process.

Akaashi steadies you with a hand on your arm, smirking slyly and adding, “Yeah, turns out being treated like royalty takes a lot out of you.”

“How ever do the monarchs do it?”

He shucks off his own pants and shirt, walking behind you and making your back arch when he finds the back of your bra through your top and unclasps it with deft fingers.

Definitely the smoothest of them all.

“Have you ever seen a portrait of a king or queen smiling? It’s because they’re so tired.”

“From being worshiped.”

“Exactly.”

Akaashi falls onto your bed, pulling you with him, then resituates the both of you until you’re comfortable. The duvet is pulled up, your hand finds a home in the middle of his chest, and the silly small talk fades to nothing as you fall asleep to the gentle beat under your palm.

xxx

Legs are twined with yours when you slowly wake up, not quite pinning you, but making it close to impossible to move. You don’t really mind, though, not when your eyes adjust in the dark room just enough to make out the angle of Akaashi’s jawline and the curl of his hair against his forehead. You’re more than happy to stay right here.

His skin is warm against yours, and you can’t help but stroke lightly at his chest, smiling at the way he shifts under you and sighs. The contact must have woken him, because though he doesn’t open his eyes, his fingers dance along the small of your back, nails softly scratching at the skin just above the waistband of your panties.

The shiver it pulls from you is unavoidable, a shock that starts at your neck and travels the length of your spine.

Akaashi hums in that content way of his, lips pulling up at the corners. There are many things you could say here—a sarcastic good morning, did you sleep well, wakey wakey eggs and bakey. But you stay silent, craning your neck instead so that you can kiss him.

It's a strange feeling, having him know exactly what you want without needing to say anything. You suppose that's probably just part of being with Akaashi—being watched and understood even in silence—but that doesn't make it any less surprising when he rolls to his side and leans over you.

At first it's just kissing, making out like a couple of teenagers only without all the nerves and fumbling. He braces an arm on the pillow next to your head, slots a thigh between yours, then breathes heavily when you start to roll your hips, already desperate for friction.

"You know we don't—mm—" his lips move with yours again as he pets your hair with what feels like a shaky hand. You think he might lose his train of thought, but Akaashi tilts his face away just enough to break the kiss, trying one more time, "You know we don't have to have sex. I'm not expecting it or anything."

You stare up at him with hungry eyes and spit slicked lips, smirking when you reply, "That's great and very gentlemanly of you,'kaashi, but I assure you, I wanna have sex. With you. A lot."

"A lot, like, multiple times, or a lot, like, you want it badly?"

You make a face of consideration, eyebrows high, lips pursed, then shrug your shoulders. "Both."

"Okay, cool," he nods, clicking his tongue once before descending on you.

He moves to kneel between your spread legs, starts working your shirt off until you sit up and handle the rest. Chest to chest, Akaashi snakes a hand behind your back, guiding you to lie back again and melting with you as you do. He hikes one of your legs over his hip, slowly canting back and forth to rub himself against your core through two layers of material.

You whine in the back of your throat, looping your other calf around him to pull him closer, and Akaashi responds with a kiss messier than the rest. He's finally starting to lose a bit of that composure, more of it getting hacked away when you tug at his hair, when you nip his lip, when you suck on his neck, until he pins your wrists and draws his nose down your throat, leaving a well-placed hickey at the swell of your breast before taking one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. He tongues at it, gently grazes his teeth over the bud, and fuck, you can feel your underwear sticking to you.

Abandoning your hands in favor of scratching down your ribs, Akaashi sinks lower, tracing his lips over the soft skin between your tits, kissing over your stomach, leaving another mark on your hip that makes you gasp and shudder.

When he actually reaches for your little wet panties, he pauses for a moment to soak them further with spit, licking you as best he can through the barrier and driving you insane.

"Ahh, fuck, Aka-Akaashi—"

"Just Keiji," he corrects you just loud enough to hear over the heartbeat in your ears. "Please."

You swallow, peering down at where he lays, and nod. Funnily enough, you haven't put much thought into what you've wanted to call him. Tsukishima is Sir in the bedroom. Kuroo really seems to like Daddy. If Akaashi prefers his given name above all else, you can absolutely do that for him. And for you. You like the way those two syllables taste, the hard consonants that feel so soft on your tongue.

Akaashi—Keiji—brushes a kiss over the inside of your thigh, but the affection is almost immediately forgotten when he begins working your panties off you. There's no hesitation, no questioning glances or need for reassurance. He knows you want this. The shine of slick dripping from your cunt is more than enough proof.

The first lick makes you sing a broken hymn, fingers tangling in dark hair as your back bends and your breath catches. You feel extra sensitive today—tonight? You don't even know what time it is anymore.

Every flick of Keiji's tongue sends sparks down your spine, arousal flooding your senses and urging you to spread yourself open further, invite him deeper, deeper, please—

The vibration of a thoughtful hum travels to every corner of your body, and Keiji’s voice is muffled when he says, seemingly more to himself than to you, “Taste so good…” and he emphasizes it by shoving his face further into your heat, his nose bumping your swelling clit and making you writhe beneath him. He traces around your hole a couple times before plunging inside, pushing against velveteen walls with muscle just as tender.

Those lewd noises you’re still embarrassed by start to echo from where he’s attached to you, only you aren’t the one making them (not by yourself, anyway). Keiji slurps and sucks like he’s been deprived, and when he gently slides two long fingers inside of you, the resounding squelch makes him groan and rut into the bedding.

You could do this all night, watch him become unhinged over you. He’s just so pretty all flushed, pupils blown wide, lips and chin glistening with your desperation.

But there are other things you’d prefer to experience that you haven’t yet, like squirm away, watch the way his gaze immediately turns to one of confusion and longing only to go dark all over again when you shove him to lay on his back. Paying him similar attention, you make your way down Keiji’s lean frame, kissing and scratching, sucking hickies at his collarbone and along the V of his hips. He sighs and twitches and fists the sheets, lifting himself and helping you rid him of his tight boxers.

It isn’t until he starts laughing quietly that you realize you’re wiggling your fingers—excited or casting a fucking spell, you don't even know. All you're sure of is that Keiji’s unhidden amusement isn’t about to stop you from swallowing his gorgeous cock.

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you let it drip down his length as you suck at his head, pride welling inside of you when Keiji pushes his head back into the pillows. His chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, the tendons in his arms flexing along with his fingers.

“F-fuck—I—...”

You never got the chance to do this during that first time, a whirlwind of so many things, so many sensations, but never the one of holding Keiji in your mouth, feeling the weight of him on your tongue, how tight a fit he is slipping into your throat.

His eyes go wide when your nose meets his pelvis for a moment, but you pull back quickly, just before you gag, and focus on suckling at his tip again. His hips jump every time you press against the underside of his flared head, and when you shimmy a hand up to toy with his heavy balls, he bucks straight into your mouth.

You’re gentle as you squeeze him, just enough pressure to make him gasp, and the more he does, the more you leak for him. The sheets will no doubt be a mess once all is said and done. Good thing tomorrow’s laundry day.

Keiji allows you to tease for a little while longer, lets you lick every bead of pre that drips from him, but eventually he’s ready, and he proves it by sitting up and hoisting you to your knees.

“Okay, okay, I need—” he maneuvers your legs to straddle his hips— “Need to be—...” and cuts out again when you start to sink down on him, taking him inch by inch until you’re trembling in his lap. “Fuck, fuck—you feel so good, how do you feel so good?”

Keiji digs his heels into the mattress and starts bouncing you on his cock, eyes shut tightly, jaw open as he keeps muttering. Your pussy flutters around him, growing used to the stretch, though it never disappears entirely. He isn’t massive, but he’s still a bit above average, his dick just as beautiful as him with a slight upward curve that has you keening with every stroke.

Fingertips dig into the meat of your ass, nails carving crescent moons at every space, and like this—knowing you’re being held so tight—you let yourself fall, get lost all over again. Your lips meet hungrily, the opposite of previous, restrained kisses. Now, Keiji’s tongue is behind your teeth and yours is painting the roof of his mouth. Your noses squish together, and your jaws knock with each thrust, but it’s okay because it all feels good, it all feels so fucking good.

“Jesus—Fuck—Keiji,” you whine, skin sweltering but especially warm between your legs. That familiar spring coils deep inside you, set over burning coals and growing hotter every second. You’re already close, but before you can teeter too far, Keiji shifts and stops.

“Side of the bed,” he breathes, a sheen of sweat shining on his neck.

“Like,” you huff for a second, thighs quivering now that they’re no longer in any real use. “On my stomach, or—”

“No,” he shakes his head, helping you swing your leg over him. “Your back. I wanna be able to see your face when you come.”

You blink at him rapidly, processing his words and why exactly they make you want to go absolutely feral. You’ve had dirty things said to you before, absolute filth whispered in your ear and spat in your face, but this, something about his confidence… It isn’t arrogance; it’s assuredness.

Keiji rolls off the bed and stands, waiting patiently for you to hang yourself off the side of it. He places your calves on either shoulder, mutters something about, “Hope you stretched,” knowing damn well you just woke up, then pushes into you.

Stars burst behind your eyes. The ridge of his cock grinds over your g-spot over and over, and in no time, you’re dribbling slick and squirt and making a fucking mess of the neatly groomed hair at his base of his cock.

“There we go, that’s it,” he muses, one hand groping your bouncing tits while the other traces down your abdomen and to your pussy. The pad of his thumb glides against your clit perfectly, and Keiji begins a series of small, cultivated circles. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Eyes rolling back, your mouth falls open, mind going blank for a few seconds as everything stops except for your impending climax.

Your heart beats erratically in your chest, lungs aching from holding your breath until you can’t any longer, heaving and shaking and nearly crying when Keiji coos, “You’re so pretty when you’re worked up like this, princess. Must be so close now…”

Pretty doesn’t sound right, not coming from his mouth. Not when it’s in reference to you. Because it’s him—he’s the one who’s been so sweet, so kind and warm and beautiful.

“Just relax. Let me make you feel good," he tries.

"Already—oh, fuck—already have, you already—god you feel so fucking good, I can't even think straight," you slur, all the muscles in your body going tight.

Keiji grins down at you, those midnight eyes heavy and fond as he watches you split at the seams.

Your back bows in a slow curve, thighs so tense around his waist, they're quivering. You can feel the evidence of your lust smeared between your legs, soaking into the sheets under your ass, and you can't begin to be bothered by it.

The fingers toying with your nipples disappear, and when you feel them again, rubbing just above your stretched hole, all the pressure inside you comes to a head.

"Oh, fuck, oh my god, oh my go—"

Keiji strokes you through it, every single pulse of your muscles. He keeps steady until you're on the come down, the squelch of your pussy louder once he begins to quicken his pace. His thrusts aren't quite as long or deep anymore, but it doesn't matter because you can still feel every little snap of his hips, every inch of him rubbing swollen, gummy walls.

Despite barely feeling conscious, you do what you can to get him where he needs to be, where you want him to be, right alongside you in that dreamy headspace, all fucked out and happy.

"Come on, Keiji, please, wanna feel you so bad, please…"

You push yourself up on one elbow so you can nip at his pecs, other hand splaying over his ribs to keep him close, keep him inside. His angle changes slightly, pushing a pathetic rhythm of oh's and ah's from your chest because you're sensitive, so fucking sensitive you just might cry, but it still feels so damn good, want him so bad, need him to—

"Ready for me?" He pants, cheeks red, sweat beading at his hairline.

"Yes, yes, please—"

One side of his mouth lifts up for a split second, but then his expression is all pleasure, eyebrows high and jaw slackening as he lets go and fills you. The mess between your legs grows, a mixture of cum leaking from your hole, and after a few more thrusts, all Keiji can do is twitch and groan.

He holds himself up until his arms start to shake, and just when you think he's about to collapse right on top of you, he rolls to the side, breathing heavily with the barest of smiles on his handsome face.

"Perfect end to a relaxing day," you hum, feeling just as weightless as you did at the spa.

Keiji offers a quiet, "Mhmm," looking like he's about to fall back asleep, but he still manages a, "Wanna do something for dinner?"

"I don't even know what time it is," you laugh. "I have some stuff for simple meals here, or we can run out and get something."

He shrugs his shoulders, opening still-foggy eyes to look at you. "Whatever you want. I'm easy."

"Beg to differ," you smirk, though it fades to a pout as you whine, "Been wanting to jump your bones since you picked me up, and you made me wait all day."

Keiji chuckles and reaches to stroke your cheek.

"That's on you. You can jump my bones anytime, anywhere."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he grins, bestowing one more very sweet kiss on your lips before sitting up and segueing, "So dinner."

Soba is made in record time and slurped up through jokes and smiles, and afterward you give Keiji the very small tour of your apartment, a little circus act not often performed, leaving you feeling very awkward when you wrap it up after a whopping three or four minutes.

"And uh, that's that, I guess," you say with a lame clap, glancing around your living room as Keiji toys with the tassels of a throw blanket.

"I like it. It's cozy. And quiet."

"Yeah, I figure it can get kind of loud living with Bo."

"He's not as loud as you'd think," Keiji waves a hand. "Just when he's excited or around other people. When it's just us he's pretty tame."

There's a certain look of fondness in his gaze, one that you feel just thinking about the other man, one you feel while thinking about all of them, if you're being honest. Spending time alone with Keiji was fantastic, something you'd love to do again, but that doesn't stop you from missing the others even as you settle down for a movie, even as he kisses you goodbye at the end of the night, and especially as you lay in bed staring up at your ceiling.

You learned several things today, mostly about Keiji—little facts and mannerisms—but you also learned a few things about yourself.

Spas have the potential to be very sexy.

You enjoy being spoiled rotten.

You just might be catching feelings.

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu fanfic

130 notes · View notes