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omg-imatotalmess · 4 years ago

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Pet Names

Hey guys! I have had the headcanon that George would turn into a puddle when you call him something sweet, and my hypothetical question got lots of positive responses. So, here I am, yet again, offering a subby boy because that’s my specialty. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!), sub!George, dom!reader, pet name kink, praise kink, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, riding, swearing

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There was one thing about dating George Weasley that was an absolute fact: George loved pet names. Of course, you knew that to a degree. Since you started dating, it had become a rarity that he called you by your given name. You would have hated it from anyone else. Pet names typically weren't your thing, but you couldn't bring yourself to hate them when his voice dripped with sweetness. However, it never really occurred to you that he might want you to use them too. It wasn't until the two of you were lying on a couch in the Room of Requirement that you even thought about it.

Snuggled up to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he dozed, you began to reflect on the whole pet name situation. He always had something sweet on the tip of his tongue while you only ever called him George. Georgie, if you were feeling particularly affectionate. You wondered if it bothered him that you didn't have a cute name for him. It wasn't like he'd ever asked, but sometimes he had trouble asking for things that he thought were embarrassing without joking about it. He always gave you delightfully cheesy nicknames when people were around that could easily be brushed off as joking. So maybe the embarrassment thing was the case. He just didn't exactly know how to ask.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head, sweetheart," George said, breaking you from your musings.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," you said, nuzzling his neck affectionately.

"Wasn't sleeping before anyway. Even if I was, what goes on in that brain of yours has to be more interesting," he said. Smiling, you rolled completely on top of him so you could see him better. "Well, hello there."

"You caught me. I was thinking again," you said.

"Were you thinking about me?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I was."

"How embarrassing. Do you have a crush on me or something, love?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"You're an idiot," you said fondly. "Really, though, I wanted to ask you something." The playfulness drained from his face immediately as he adopted a more serious expression. He almost looked a little worried. Smiling, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his furrowed brows in an attempt to make the wrinkle go away.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, I was just thinking about the nickname thing," you said. Your answer did nothing to relieve the expression.

"Don't you like them? I'll call you something else if you want." You shook your head.

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to call you something else. Do you want cute names too?" you asked. George shifted under you, his expression morphing into one you'd become incredibly familiar with. A bright red flush bloomed over his cheeks as an almost concerningly wide grin pulled at his lips.

"Thought you'd never ask snookums!" he laughed nervously, "Here I thought you were about to let Ron and Hermione out cute us. Personally, I think you should go for something like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband.' The whole phrase. Just to prove them that we're the cuter pair." As he rambled, you found yourself becoming more and more amused by his expert avoidance of your eyes.

"George?" Your voice was gentle but prodding, cutting his nervous speech short. Blinking, he offered another nervous laugh.

"Yes, darling, sweetness, light of my life?" he asked.

"Breathe," you said.

"Right. I'll live a lot longer if I do that," he said, pulling in a steadying breath. Smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him further.

"Now, as much as I truly do like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband,' it's kinda a mouthful," you said.

"That's what she said," George rattled off automatically.

"Jesus, I didn't mean to fluster you so bad. I'm sorry, sunshine," you said, testing the name.

And he whimpered. It was just a soft, breathy little sound. One you would have missed if you hadn't quite literally been laying on his chest. You weren't even sure if he was aware he'd done it, but, Christ, were you happy he did. That one little sound told you so much. Not to mention the way his fingers squeezed needily at your hips and that his eyes seemed to lose focus. Suddenly, you felt like you were taking up his entire field of vision. Nothing beyond you existed. Not to him. All that for just one simple word.

"You like, sunshine?" you asked.

"I dunno if it has the same ring as, uh, as whatever it was that I said, but it's alright," he said, squirming under your penetrating gaze.

"Just alright? You want something else?" you teased.

"If you-if you think you can c-come up with something better," he stuttered.

"Okay, baby boy," you purred.

If you thought sunshine had done it for him, baby boy blew that out of the water. A shiver tore through his body right down to his fingertips as his mouth dropped open into a quiet moan. Despite the low volume, the sound echoed in your ears. It dripped with pure need. As though he couldn't go another second without you touching him. The cherry flush that bloomed high in the apples of his cheeks swooped over the tips of his ears. He was beautiful. Enticing. And you were only human. Leaning forward, you traced your tongue up the shell of his ear, biting it lightly.

"That better?" you muttered against his ear. Pulling back, you watched as George opened and closed his mouth, fishing for anything to say in response. He wasn't having much luck, just spitting out collections of sounds that didn't quite resemble words.

"Come on, baby boy, use your words," you said, cupping his cheek and rolling your thumb over his bottom lip.

"Yes." His voice cracked on the word.

"Good boy," you said, smirking like a well-fed cat, "Now, how 'bout we get you out of those clothes. I wanna see all of my pretty baby."

"Please," he breathed. Carefully, you repositioned yourself, so you had full access to his clothing. You only managed a couple of buttons before his much larger hand curled around one of yours. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said. Smiling, you pulled his hand to your mouth and returned the gesture.

"I love you too," you replied.

With your hand back, you made quick work of his shirt. You pushed it open and took in the lightly freckled expanse of his chest. His skin was a swirl of cinnamon-colored constellations. You trailed your fingers across them, admiring the trail of goosebumps the left behind. George was lovely. Devastatingly so. Bringing your head down, you followed the same path your fingers had taken, stopping briefly to lap at his nipples. He whined softly at the attention, tangling his hands in your hair.

"You're so beautiful," you said.

You kissed up his chest to his lips, and he tilted his head to meet you. His lips pressed hungrily to your own. The faint taste of honey teased your senses as you dipped your tongue into his mouth. You loved that he always managed to taste sweet. Lightly, you ran your tongue over his own, savoring that elusive sweetness for as long as you could. Slipping your hand down to rub him through his pants, you were surprised to find him fully hard. Even though you'd barely touched him, he was straining against his zipper.

"(Y/N)," he whimpered against your mouth.

"I bet that's uncomfortable. You want me to take care of that, baby boy?" you asked, popping the button.

"Please. Please take care of it," he begged, bucking his hips into your hand. Without responding, you pushed his pants down to his thighs while trailing burning kisses down his torso. You pressed a kiss to each of his hip bones before wrapping your hand around his cock. Giving it a few long, slow strokes that had him bucking into your hand, you looked up at him.

"Tell me what you want," you said.

"Your mouth. Please, (Y/N)," he said quickly.

"Anything for my sweet baby boy," you said.

Slowly, you dragged your tongue from the base to the tip, paying special attention to the ridge of the head. A low moan sounded above you. You took a moment to appreciate the sound before sinking his cock into your mouth. His hips bucked, and you gagged slightly. Breathing softly through your nose, you gripped his hips tightly to keep him from doing it again. You bobbed your head slowly, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock.

"C'mon, don't tease," George begged, straining against your restrictive grip.

You didn't say anything but picked up the pace slightly. Removing on hand from its place on his hip, you fondled his balls and teased lightly at his perineum. His hips flexed wildly against your hand. It only took swallowing around him once before he was calling out warnings and groaning loudly into the open air. You pulled off before he could cum, ignoring the disappointed whine.

"Wanna come. Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad," he cried, bucking into the air looking for friction.

"I know, baby boy," you said, shimmying out of your pants. "I wanna be ridding you when you do, but you gotta prep me first. Can you do that for me? Can you finger me until I'm nice and open for you, baby boy?"

"Uh-huh," he said, fumbling for the lube that appeared on the table. Turning, you presented yourself to him, so he had better access. Gentle as always, he sunk a long finger into you.

"That's my good boy," you sighed. As he fingered you open, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the backs of your thighs. You wrapped your hand around his cock again, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. Then he curled them a bit.

"There! That's it," you mewled, rocking back against him.

"More!" He obediently added another finger.

"Am I making you feel good?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Whether it was from moaning or just from the idea that he was bringing you pleasure, you couldn't tell.

"So good," you said. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, and he shivered.

"Close," he whimpered.

"Let me sit on your pretty cock, baby boy," you purred. Almost reluctantly, he slipped his fingers from you, and you positioned yourself over him. Neither of you was interested in waiting long. Once he was fully seated inside you, you could already feel him shivering with the effort not to cum.

"Move?" It came out as a question. Both asking your permission and begging you to ride him until he was shaking with overstimulation.

Picking up your hips, you dropped them back slowly. You savored the slight burn of the stretch. Hands quickly found your hips. And then you were moving. You weren't sure if he'd thrust up into you or if you'd started this pace on your own. You didn't care. It didn't matter when he was hitting that spot inside you just right.

"So good, baby boy! Right there!" you cried.

"So tight. So good. Wanna cum! Please can I cum?" he begged, digging his fingers into your hips in a way that would definitely bruise.

Pulling his chin up with two fingers, you kissed him like your life depended on it. Tongues tangled sloppily, your teeth clicked together, and the angle was a little off considering the constant motion. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to care with him, whining obscenities into your mouth. Begging to cum so prettily. If you were a little meaner or not so desperate yourself, you'd draw it out a little longer. Maybe next time. Separating with a wet pop, you smoothed your thumb across his spit-slick, swollen lips.

"Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?" you asked. He nodded, hooded eyes staring at you pleadingly.

"Close, close, please," he whined, dropping his head forward to your chest.

"Cum, baby boy." With a long, low moan, he was gone. He pounded sloppily into you with uncontrolled thrusts, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Between that and the sight of his utterly wrecked expression, you went tumbling over the edge after him. Your own shout of pleasure shook the room. Your thighs trembled with the force of it. For a second, you swore, you stopped breathing.

"Holy fuck," you panted as you came down from your high.

"Felt pretty holy to me," George said, leaning heavily against the arm of the couch.

"When I find my brain, I'll say something witty," you said. You let him slip out of you, opting to ignore the mess running down your thighs in favor of laying against his chest again.

"Anytime you wanna do that again, I'd happily oblige, love," he said.

"You just fucked my brain across the room while I called you baby boy, and you're already thinking about round two?" you snorted.

"Should I not be?" Well, round two did sound pretty good.

"Give me a hot minute, and I'll get right on that, sunshine." You didn't miss the love in his dark eyes as he gazed down at you with a crooked grin. Or the way his cock twitched in interest.

#its 3:30 am #but here it is #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george x reader #george x reader smut #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #dom!reader #sub!george #smut #harry potter #hp

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captnjacksparrow · 3 years ago

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Hello Captnjacksparrow. Hope your having a good day. I have a question. I'm a bit confused. So Sasuke always been uncomfortable with people touching him even Sakura. He doesn't seem to let anyone in.Majority of the time he tells her to get off him and he looks pissed. He seems way more comfortable with Naruto but even still he likes his distance. Even until the very end of series. So how could someone who is so standoffish and irritated with a woman but then ends up marrying and breeding said woman just to still show disinterest??? The naruto fandom even says He's some type of sex god? I dunno. So weird.. I've been scratching my brain tryna figure it out but to me Sasuke doesn't seem attached or interested in anyone who's not Naruto. It doesn't make sense.

(Second question)

Also I've been told that "your annoying" was an endearing nickname? But He always looks irritated when he says it to her. If it's endearment why does he say it with anger? But when he say usuratonkachi he always looks happy towards Naruto.

I don't hate any ship fandoms but this Sasuke loves Sakura is accepted by the majority!!!😳 but I GENUINELY don't understand why. Nobody ever given me a panel that made me say" ohhh he really does love her". Have you?

My head hurts everytime i read a naruto blog outside Tumblr. They make up Sasusaku plot points based on headcanons based on nothingness. And I'm sooo confused. Seriously, what is going on? And i read alot of shounen jump growing up and never saw blatant lies being accepted by the majority in mangas like Dragon ball, bleach, Yugioh, One piece etc which also have huge fandoms.

Anyways that's it. thank you for reading . I love your posts!!! Hopefully you can answering my questions.

LOLOL... What an Ask!!!

I think you, Anon, got lost into that SS Rabbit Hole which made you believe that they represent the Naruto Fandom as a whole??? Well, with the way it's been going, you are very right to assume that and they are everywhere because they took over everything right from Twitter, Instagram, TikTok and Reddit too.

And the fact that Dudebros hate SNS (because they hate Gays) which made them resort to support NH/SS despite they don't give a damn about those ships. They support it out of Spite towards SNS. And that's why they eat up every lies those shippers feed them and spread lies as facts....

So how could someone who is so standoffish and irritated with a woman but then ends up marrying and breeding said woman just to still show disinterest???

There's no real reason, Anon.... It's all for bringing out Next Generation. The Studio forced him to marry Sakura, the popular option.... And Gaiden was all about what if a man who has no interest in women ended up marrying a woman out of compulsion!!! That's all.

Also I've been told that "your annoying" was an endearing nickname? But He always looks irritated when he says it to her. If it's endearment why does he say it with anger?

They are seriously some delusional Ass-Hats... LOL... Please don't believe them.

This is Sakura's reaction after Sasuke roasted her in a furnace.

"Did Naruto feel like this too... Maybe next time I can be a little nicer to him..."

So, She do realize that Naruto also felt bad when she said the same thing to him in the Class just before this scene... because Sakura was also feeling hurt by Sasuke’s words...

How can a word that 'supposed' to be an endearment made Sakura to feel hurt to the point of reflecting her own mistakes??? Why Naruto never felt bad with 'Usuratonkachi'???

Those Ass-Hats don't even take their Kween's reaction into consideration and make pathetic Head canons out of it.

The naruto fandom even says He's some type of sex god?

This is the SS version of Sasuke. They portray Sasuke as this Christian Grey who loves to do this BDSM stuffs with Sakura and devour her. Cringe!!!! I know!!! Partly because the Author sexualized him by making him wear some weird costumes and drew Sasuke in some angles which serves Female Sexual Fantasy...

LOL... This posture and his costume gives off this Dominating Daddy vibes for those Lustful fangirls and hence they hail him as a Sex God who came to devour their Kween into the Oblivion. Geez!!!

It’s so sad that those Fangirls just care about how he looks like instead of what he has gone through and how he feels inside.... They are just like their Kween who lust for his Beautiful face and Body...

Like Queen... Like Her Followers....

My head hurts everytime I read a naruto blog outside Tumblr.

I felt the same way too... AND THIS IS APPLICABLE ONLY FOR NARUTO SERIES.... Because I could easily check contents related to my other favourite media from almost everywhere... Be it Reddit, Quora or even Instagram.

But It’s only for Naruto fandom, I simply can’t visit those platforms to get any genuine opinions because of those blatant lies....

I don't hate any ship fandoms but this Sasuke loves Sakura is accepted by the majority!!! They make up Sasusaku plot points based on headcanons based on nothingness. And I'm sooo confused. Seriously, what is going on? And I read alot of shounen jump growing up and never saw blatant lies being accepted by the majority

That's because of the Nature of Sasuke's feelings which was written by the Author in a crystal clear way... And they couldn’t accept the real version of Sasuke written by the Author... That is, he loves a Boy. That's why lies were being accepted by the majority.

I've never read those Mangas you've mentioned in this Ask, So... I am answering from my experience in other fandoms. And I know for a fact that the Main Characters from Bleach, Dragon Ball, One Piece are not Gay.... And the Fandoms I've been in so far were also majorly consisting of Hetero Couples.

Usually, it goes like this... A Boy or A Girl being the point of Attraction and they usually share some important scenes with 2 people who happens to be from the opposite Gender. And that generates the shipping faction and wars.

Let's just say, Naruto is a different anime that we know of... Where Sasuke doesn't exist??!!...

Naruto shares some scenes with Hinata and then some scenes with Sakura. There you go, you get NH and NS. In this case, Shipping fandom fight over which ship is best in terms of who is important for Naruto, who Naruto truly loves, With whom he feels a sense of belonging, which ship has the most romantic moments, bla bla bla....

This is how shipping war happens and when you look at their Arguments, most of the time, Both sides makes sense... Or atleast there will be certain level of truth on both the sides.

Why??

Because both ships have their moments and they argue based on that.

It's always "We have this Vs We have this"...

Whereas when it comes to the Naruto series with Sasuke’s existence....

NH and SS has nothing... Nope... Nada... Zero... Zilch.

There is not one trope which SS or NH can claim that as their own. Naruto erupted 6 tails after seeing Hinata’s supposed death.... But it’s not entirely for her.... It’s for Kakashi, Jiraiya and Konoha.... She is merely the last straw.

Similarly, Sakura repressed Sasuke’s cursed seal in the Forest of the Death. Whereas 10 chapters later, Sasuke repressed his seal on his own by seeing both of his teammates. And then saving Sasuke from Darkness trope was exclusively given to Naruto alone.

Only in Naruto Fandom, It’s goes like.... SNS Vs NH & SS

It’s always... “We have everything Vs We have nothing”

It’s always.... “Homosexual Romance Vs Heterosexual Indifference”

Since, Homosexuality is something unacceptable for most people and to deny that at all costs, and also to make up for the lack of Romance.... NH & SS peeps.... Especially SS, desperately resort to twisting everything into something romantic and delude themselves in to their Headcanon and pass it off as facts. Like I said before, Dudebros can’t accept their ‘Idols’ being Gay... Not in their Lifetime... And hence they eat up NH and SS ships’ Blatant lies as romantic and delude that Sasuke loves Sakura because they had a Baby. But deep inside they know Sasuke never loved Sakura....

The More Lies a fandom spouts.... The More they don’t have a Genuine Content to prove their claim or May I say those Lies comes out of denial because of strong Homophobia???.

#sns #sasunaru #narusasu #sasunarusasu

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better.

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood.

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more.

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment.

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen.

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them.

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.”

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?”

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius. I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.”

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!”

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.”

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus.

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.”

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.”

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.”

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending.

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.”

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

#remus lupin #sirius black #bowie #felix martin #simon #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #coops #hockey #adhd #blood on the ice #found family #prohibitionincurls #collab #fanfic #my fic

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elysiadjarin · 3 years ago

Text

Sword and Shield

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Summary: Well guys, I’m being stupid again and starting another writing project so here you go. It’s gonna get pretty smutty later, so have at it you heathens 😂

Warnings: There will be throughout this fic mentions of war, abuse, gore, and smut. Minors DNI. 18+ only.

1: A New Beginning

“Yo, Shivvie!” a familiar voice hollered, making you look up from your work.

With a blink, you caught sight of Fives trotting across the room. You waved back in acknowledgement, setting down the pieces you’d been tinkering with and wondering what the effusive trooper wanted from you this time. He normally interrupted your sessions of tinkering, but you were fond enough of him that it normally didn’t bother you.

He jogged up, grinning cheerfully. “Whatcha doing? You working on a project again?”

You just nodded and smiled, patting the bench next to you invitingly.

He plopped himself down, glancing briefly at the pieces you’d set down. “So, the Commander sent me over to getcha,” he started, and your eyes widened.

You leaped to your feet, scrabbling to grab your things. “Fives,” you protested, “shouldn’t you have started with that? I gotta get there-“

“Whoa there, Shivvie,” Fives laughed, grabbing at your sleeve. “Calm down, you’re not supposed to show up for another hour. I got sent to tell you so you’d be ready in time.”

“Oh.” You sheepishly sank back down. “Thanks, Fives. Sorry.”

He chuckled. “No problem. Glad I found you on time. I looked in the mess hall and the docks but couldn’t find ya, so I figured I’d come here. Figured you might be working on something,” he said, gesturing widely at the room. “So whatcha workin’ on this time?”

You tilted your head, glancing down at the datapad and the metal scrap bits scattered around you. “Well... I...” you chewed your lip, picking up the datapad. “I dunno, sorta just experimenting,” you tried to explain your own spur-of-the-moment idea. “I was thinking about drills last time, and I realized a couple of things felt... off. I figured I’d try to figure out the details and try to... y’know, make them better,” you offered, handing him the datapad.

He glanced over the blaster schematics you’d pulled up, and tilted his head curiously. “I mean, I don’t really understand all the details, but it looks like you’re trying to fix the stability?” he guessed, handing it back.

“Sorta,” you said with a nod. “I just feel like there’s too much recoil. I mean, imagine if you could fire it with barely any? It’d waste so much less energy.”

“True.” He nodded. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He grinned. “So, you coming to the 79s with us tonight?”

You gave him a slight smile, setting the datapad aside. “Well, I don’t know, Fives. Depends on what the Commander says.” Nervously, you pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Did he say what it was about?”

Fives shrugged. “Dunno.” Then he leaped up. “Well, lemme know if you wanna go, you have my commlink number.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Fives. I will.” You realized a split second later what you’d forgotten to ask. “Oh, wait! Where am I supposed to see the Commander?” you called after him.

He turned back. “Hangar Bay Six!” he hollered back, waving as he bounced away.

You shook your head at his boundless energy, turning back to your work. Really, would Fives ever calm down? It was a wonder you ever hit it off.

Then again, opposites did tend to attract.

Taking a breath, you shook your head and straightened, picking up your small bag and heading out the door. Considering your role in the 501st, you wouldn’t be surprised if Commander Rex had called you in for some mission or something. There had been the possibility of your getting reassigned, after all.

Heading over to Hangar Bay Six like Fives had said, you let your mind wander a bit, wondering what you’d been called in for. You didn’t think you were in trouble, or else the Commander probably would have come to you personally or called you in straightaway. So it had to be something else, right?

By the time you caught sight of him on the opposite side of the Hangar, your mind had unsurprisingly started to spiral into a pit of anxiety. You were always nervous about getting into trouble, even if you knew you rarely did anything to merit an open rebuke. Still, you’d come to respect the Commander, and you wanted to keep a good standing with him and General Skywalker.

Commander Rex stood by a small group of what seemed to be other troopers, all by a smaller ship. The name Havoc Marauder was painted proudly across the side, and you had to admire the bold name. Rex turned to see you approach as you neared, catching the attention of the others he’d been speaking to.

“Ah, there you are.” He nodded at you. “Thank you for being on time.”

You came to a halt and dipped your head politely, bag still slung over your shoulder. “Yessir. Fives told me you wanted me,” you said, a bit lamely. Still, you gave him a small smile.

“I’m surprised he even managed to find you,” Rex said dryly, earning a small laugh from you. “I’d like you to meet Clone Force 99, a unit that I’ve helped put together,” he said, moving on. He motioned to the others. “They’re an unusual special forces unit, meant to work special ops missions different from the normal cut and dry type. I know that you’ve expressed your hopes to find a group that you’d work best with, and while you’ve been invaluable to the 501st, I’d like you to consider giving Force 99 a try. I think based on your skills that you might suit each other well.”

Curiously, you tilted your head and observed the group of four. At first glance, you immediately noticed that all of them had notable differences from a normal Clone. You wouldn’t necessarily call them disabilities, though according to the Kaminoans they most likely would be. The group seemed to survey you back, and you decided to give them a hesitant smile.

“Pleased to meet you,” you offered with a polite nod. “My name is (Name), though most call me Shiv.” You smiled at the nickname the Clones had given you that you’d readily adopted. “If you’d have me, I’d love to give it a go.”

“You a Nat-born?” The one that seemed to be the leader of the group asked the question, his head tilting toward you in a way that let you easily see the skull tattoo that covered half of his face.

You nodded. “Yes, but I’m far from... I guess what you’d call a Reg,” you said, a little uncomfortably. “I know I’m not a Clone, but I’ve sort of been... viewed like one for most of my life. I... guess you could say I was born for war.” A bitter smile twisted your lips as you glanced down at the floor.

“So what’s your specialty, then?” The one with glasses surveyed you interestedly.

You blinked with a bit of surprise, glancing at Rex. Hadn’t he told them, if he recommended you to the group-?

He shook his head back. “You’re best at describing your own skills. I thought it might be best for you to explain it yourself.”

“Oh.” You supposed it made sense. Hesitating, you glanced at them. “Uh- well, I’m...” You pursed your lips. “Do any of you use any weapon other than a standard blaster?” You decided to preface.

The one with greyed hair and a surly look on his face hefted his weapon in his hands, a sniper rifle. You observed it with a tilted head, mind starting to run its caliber.

“773 Firepuncher sniper rifle,” you automatically murmured, eyes trailing over it. “Oh, has it been modified?” you asked interestedly. “It seems to be a bit different from the standard scope?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, I modified it.”

You nodded, then turned to the others questioningly.

The largest one of the group, the one with scars over his whitened eye, grinned at you. “This is my favorite!” he boomed unapologetically, hefting a giant weapon.

You had to smile a little, noting the weapon fit the user. “DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System,” you said with a nod. “That’s one I’m pretty familiar with.”

The lean trooper with the glasses pointed to his holsters.

You barely had to glance before nodding. “DC-17 hand blasters.”

The leader with the tattoo displayed his own hand blaster, IWS, and a vibro-knife.

You had to smile a little, eyes lingering on the knife. “Commander Rex and the others named me after the VibroShiv,” you had to admit. Then you shook yourself. “Um, right. Well, I guess you could in a way call me a weapons expert and analyst. I’ve been responsible for modifying weapons according to someone’s specific skills or fighting patterns. Most of the reason that I have a good grasp of weapons is because I... I um- I am one.”

For a moment, the group just stared at you, as though waiting for you to either yell “Sike!” or explain further.

When you waited for their response, glancing at Rex nervously, they glanced at each other.

“Come again?” the tattooed one said, a little incredulously.

You had the feeling that this would be just as interesting a discussion as the one you’d had with the 501st the first time you’d been introduced.

Part 2: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/653202473626025984/sword-and-shield

#x reader #my writing #the bad batch #bad batch #star wars #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #bad batch x reader #star wars x y/n #star wars x reader #my fic

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ashes-in-a-jar · 4 years ago

Text

And I Owe it All to You

Hello! This is a fic I wrote based on @speakerunfolding 's wonderful Jonmartin scottish cabin comic which I couldn't stop looking at.

I wrote this while watching Dirty Dancing for the first time in many years. Quite an experience xD

Summary: It's a night in for Jon and Martin in the cabin and they decide to pop out the wine.

Rated: T

Word count: 2.2K

Tw: alcohol, drinking and being slightly drunk, minor injuries

Maybe it was the fact that neither of them had gone out much in the past few months. Maybe the Fears prefer their avatars lightweight. Maybe Scottish alcohol tended to be stronger than English alcohol. But the sparkling wine they bought on a whim at the village store shouldn't have had the effect on them that it did.

Having emptied two cups each (Jon was actually drinking out of a mug, since they found only one wine glass, and he conceded the honor of feeling classy to Martin) they have already become giggling messes over some dumb joke regarding one Peter Lukas and a computer that refused to boot.

It wasn't even that funny. But there they were, acting like complete fools leaning against each other on the couch, legs propped up in a completely uncomfortable position on the small living room table (dangerously close to the now nearly empty bottle), holding their cups precariously in one hand and holding hands with the other.

And enjoying every moment of it.

The giggling subsided. They took a moment of comfortable silence to regain their breath and enjoy another sip.

"Can't believe he didn't know he could just u-unplug and replug the whole thing. Even I know that." Jon's speech was ever so slightly slurred, his leftover wine sloshing in his cup.

Martin hummed and then snorted.

"Jon, you barely know how to do that either. I had to teach you how to open new tabs in the same internet window for christ's sake."

"It was a new laptop! All of the buttons were in the wrong p-place." Jon protested weakly, starting to hiccup.

"Sure."

"Prick." Jon nudged him fondly. "You underestimate my vast knowledge of 'modern' things."

Martin snorted again. "Modern, you say?"

"Yes Martin, what do you take me for?"

"An old geezer." Martin tousled his hair gently. Jon leaned into the touch. Then, the words sunk in.

"Hey! Why do you and Georgie keep thinking that? I can know pop culture!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me, what do you know?"

"Uh..." Jon struggled to straighten himself, which resulted in actually sliding further off the couch. "Um...I know S-Star Wars! And uh, Matrix? I think. I've seen it once. Oh! That, that dinosaur movie! And... Titanic?" He finished unconvincingly.

Martin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really, Jon? You're just naming movies now. And not even new ones. Did you actually watch any of those?"

Jon avoided his gaze "I... I may have fallen asleep during uh, during some of these?"

Martin gave him a long look.

"Yes alright, I fell asleep in all of them."

Martin huffed "Thought so".

Jon gave up trying to salvage his dignity, taking a final long gulp from his mug, a small drop trickling down his chin. Martin swiped it away, absent-mindedly licking his finger, not noticing as Jon hiccuped, his face heating up considerably.

"I-I did like the Princess Bride though— that was a nice film, if a bit sensational."

"Hang on. You watched the Princess Bride? And liked it?" Martin asked, incredulous.

"I'm allowed to like things, Martin. B-besides, Georgie made me watch it. Said it was a- a core staple of cinema history o-or something."

"Oh yeah? Did she make you watch those other movies as well?" Martin asked casually, swirling the liquid in his cup.

"Unfortunately yes. She would cruelly shake me awake when I finally managed to get some shut-eye for once in my life. I-it's not my fault the only times I could sleep normally were during those, those damn films! She woke me up for that ridiculous scene with the, uh, the bullets in the Matrix. And that lifting scene in that unseemly dancing movie."

"What lifting scene?"

"That movie with all of the dancing? Th-the one where he lifts her at the end in the middle of the crowd with that song? At least, uh, at least I think there was a lot of dancing, I wasn't actually, hmmm... Focused at the time."

"Oh my god Jon, do you mean Dirty Dancing? You fell asleep during Dirty Dancing?" Martin's delighted incredulity was plain on his face.

Jon scrunched up his nose. "That's the name of the film? Good thing I fell asleep then."

"Jesus Jon. That's incredible, good on Georgie! Heh, at least you woke up for that scene. It's iconic, you know."

"Yes, yes." Jon waved at him dismissively, reaching unsteadily for the wine bottle. Martin gently took it away from Jon and with a much steadier hand, poured the remaining bit of wine into his mug.

"Thank you Martin," Jon mumbled into the cup.

Another warm silence fell on them, lulling Jon into a half drunken stupor. He nearly threw his cup in the air when Martin's words startled him back into awareness.

"I can do that scene you know, that lifting part." He was looking intently at his glass.

"R-really?" Jon hiccuped. "How?"

"I… I had a boyfriend who wanted to try it. So we did. Turns out that I'm good at balancing large things that aren't stacks of paper."

Jon hummed. He suddenly imagined very vividly Martin lifting someone else in that way and felt a pang in his chest. What was that?

Another beat of silence.

"Do. Do you want to try?"

"W-what?"

"Do you want to do that lifting scene with me? I'm sure I could lift you." Martin suddenly sat up, his tone excited and anticipating. He looked at Jon.

Jon shifted. "Uh, I-I guess it's fine? Sure."

"Okay! Let's do it then!" Martin got up on his feet, swaying ever so slightly.

Jon looked up at him surprised. "W-wait, now? Shouldn't we wait? You know, to be less uh, inebriated? Don't you need to see the scene again for a reminder?"

"Mmm. We don't have reception so I can't exactly watch the scene again. But, but I'm pretty sure I can do it now, definitely sure! Come on." He held out his hand expectantly.

Jon took it, stumbling only a bit as he got up. Martin took out his phone .

"I might even have the song saved. Let me check."

A moment later he gave a whoop of success and the song began to play, filling the main space of the cabin with its soft, if slightly tinny sound.

Jon stretched, releasing the tension in his muscles. "All right Martin, where do you want me?"

"You need a bit of a running start, and then you need to jump high right as you reach my arms, so stand over there." He indicated towards the door of the bedroom.

"Right." Jon stumbled only once as he made his way towards the designated spot. Martin moved across the room stopping right near the kitchen door.

The song kept playing calmly in the background, slowly building up towards the upbeat chorus.

Jon looked at him again "I dunno Martin. A-are you sure?" He suddenly felt a bit more fuzzy than he did sitting down. He hiccuped again.

"Please Jon, you're thin as a rake. Have a little faith." His face wore that determined look that Jon couldn't help but love.

"Alright, as you wish." He grinned, proud of his clever reference as he took his stance.

Martin rolled his eyes as well as his sleeves. "Steady on Westley, this is the part."

Jon felt a rush of excitement as he caught Martin's enthusiasm. "Ready?" He asked, bouncing a little on his feet in preparation.

"Ready." Martin crouched a little, holding out his arms.

As the chorus neared Jon, with a wild drunken energy, took his running start, jumping up as he reached Martin, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. Martin firmly gripped Jon's hips, bent his legs and with a strained grunt lifted Jon in the air as the song reached a crescendo.

Jon was flying.

He laughed giddily, stretching out his arms in elation.

As Martin continued holding him in his strong grip he looked down at his beautiful boyfriend. Despite the exertion, Martin looked up with the softest expression as the song kept playing for them in the background.

For a moment everything was perfect.

And then Martin leaned backwards a bit too far.

In hindsight, they should have known this would happen. While Martin was better at hiding it, he was as drunk as Jon. And Jon's already impeded balance certainly didn't help.

As they went down, Jon idly wondered if they could also recreate the rest of the dance if they practiced. And then he hit his nose on the floor.

After a moment of stunned silence the pain rushed in and Jon grunted.

Turns out that while most of him was protected from the fall by Martin's soft and sturdy body, his knee also missed the mark and crashed into the floor as well.

Muffled by Jon's body above him, Martin squirmed. "Ugh, Jon, are you okay?"

When Jon didn't respond, Martin groaned and picked himself off the floor, lifting Jon in the process.

"Oh my god, Jon! You're bleeding!"

Jon's face throbbed. And so did his knee. His hazy drunken state began fading away as the pain sharpened.

"I-I think I hit something."

"I'm so sorry Jon! God, where are the tissues?" Seemingly having sobered up considerably, Martin picked Jon up and carried him bodily into the bathroom. Jon allowed all of this to happen as the shock of the fall dissipated. He let Martin easily lift him onto the sink counter as he shoved a towel into his hands.

"Hold it against your nose while I... Jesus, your knee too?" He stepped back now hurriedly lifting the stained pant leg to reveal the damage.

"God, Jon I'm so sorry. Hold still, I'm going to find the first aid kit. We shouldn't have done this. This was a complete disaster."

He kept muttering irritably as he walked away. Jon sighed and pressed the towel to his throbbing nose. His foggy mind still felt as though it was trying to catch up to the recent chain of events. He spoke slowly, attempting to convey himself with clarity.

"Martin, it's fine. Honestly, I think we both know I've had worse-"

"You nearly broke your bloody neck! God, where's that goddamn kit." He shouted from across the cabin as Jon heard the rattling of drawers being forcefully pulled open.

"Martin, please I-I'm okay. It's just a little bit of bruising. It honestly already feels better."

And it actually did. In the chaos after the fall, they both forgot Jon's... situation. Jon watched as the cut on his knee slowly closed up, leaving only the drying stain of blood behind. The pain in his nose was slowly vanishing as well.

By the time Martin came back holding the bag, Jon already put down the towel and was tentatively poking at the previously bruised spot.

Martin stopped in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of emotions Jon couldn't parse out. He smiled at Martin hesitantly.

"See? Good as new. No harm no foul, I say."

Martin let out a long suffering sigh and took the towel out of Jon's hands. He quietly dampened it in the sink and stepped closer to gently pat at his face.

Jon looked at him. This close he could practically count his faded freckles, follow every line and trace every mark that was so beautifully Martin. He let himself smile.

"I must say, I'm quite impressed by your strength, if we weren't so inebriated, I'm sure you could have kept me up there for quite a while," he said quietly, enjoying the fluttering touches.

"It wasn't because I was drunk." Martin muttered.

"Pardon?"

"I said it wasn't because I was drunk that I dropped you," he said a little louder, oddly flustered. "I was looking at... At you. You just looked... I dunno, happy, I guess? I just never seen that expression on you before and it..." He trailed off, concentrating intently on Jon's knee, finishing up cleaning up the blood.

"M-Martin, look at me. Please look up here." Jon gently tugged at his shoulders to pull him up. At this height, sitting on the counter, he actually came face to face with Martin, seeing his blush and ruffled expression right in front of him as opposed to slightly above him like he normally did

He lifted his palms to bracket Martin's warm cheeks.

"There you are," he whispered and leaned in for a quick kiss. He then leaned back slightly. "You know that I'm perfectly happy. Here with you. Y-you know that, right?"

Martin looked at him for a few moments, then smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Now, help me down so we can clean up the wine stain, which I'm sure is growing on the carpet right now."

"Wha- oh," Martin said as he turned to see the fallen glass that apparently toppled during the mayhem.

"Yeah. Let me down?" Jon said again, holding out his arms.

Martin turned back to him, a teasing expression on his face. "As you wish."

Jon groaned and allowed himself once again to be pulled, secretly enjoying Martin's burst of giggles as they both walked back into the crime scene that was their drunken night in.

All things considered, it was a pretty good night.

#Ahhhh i had so much fun writing this #While watching the movie itself xD #I hope you like it!#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #fabric rustles #tma fic #My tma fic #Tma art #I guess #Because its based on it so

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cxsmicmyeon · 4 years ago

Text

NEW THINGS ; DKS [M]

do kyungsoo x fem! reader

IN WHICH your new boyfriend tries something different in bed, which ends up causing you to panic slightly. and when you tell him to stop, you start to worry that he won’t like you anymore.

genre: non-idol & new relationship au! smut, angst that turns into comfort & fluff. word count: 1.2k warnings: oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, degradation, swearing, mentions of anxiety, mention of past trauma, panic attack. please take these warning seriously, as some portray serious topics. if you are triggered by any of these, please read with caution.

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

author’s note: omg hey there i cannot be degraded in bed for the life of me (: honestly i get why people like it but every time i read a fic where the reader gets called a “whore” or a “slut” i start to get sad woohoo (maybe i’m too sensitive i dunno). i struggle to love myself and i self doubt a LOT and while i would know that he doesn’t actually mean it, my mind may not be able to comprehend it in the heat of the moment. writing this helped me get out some feelings on this. communication is so so important in a relationship, especially discussing sexual things with them!!! feedback and notes are greatly appreciated <3

"Get on your knees.”

You complied in an instant, dropping down onto the floor so you were eye-level with Kyungsoo’s erect cock. Looking up at him with innocent eyes, you gripped his base and awaited his next command.

“Suck.”

You wrapped your lips around his tip, giving it a few kitten licks before taking more of him in. He took a deep breath as you began sucking slowly, as if you were licking a cherry lollipop.

“Just like that.”

You took more of him in, coating his throbbing cock with your saliva as you swirled your tongue around the head. He fisted your hair into his hands and tugged harshly as his tip grazed the back of your throat. You moaned loudly at the contact, the sound and vibration of your voice elicting a loud moan from your boyfriend.

“You take my cock so well, don’t you, you slut?”

You felt yourself tense at the word. Pushing away any intrusive thoughts, you continued to go down on Kyungsoo. You told yourself to focus on how hot he sounded when he let out another groan from your ministrations.

You and Kyungsoo have been dating for two months. You were still in that fresh stage of getting to know each other (socially and sexually), and you had no complaints. He was always quite the gentleman and very sweet to you. And the past couple of times where you had sex, he blew your mind every time.

Kyungsoo brought up the idea of being more rough with you and trying out dirty talk one night. You were familiar with both ideas, having read loads of erotica in your life and even dabbling in it yourself with past partners. Despite a few doubts, you still remained open-minded. You accepted his offer, which brought you to this very situation.

“You like that? Having your filthy lips wrapped around my cock, whore?”

At those words, you felt yourself begin to panic. You released Kyungsoo’s cock from your mouth with a soft pop, uttered a soft ‘I’m sorry,’ and stood up. You ran inside of Kyungsoo’s bathroom and locked yourself inside. You felt your eyes well up with tears and started to cry softly, burying your face into your hands.

You knew he didn’t actually think you were any of those things, and you knew that those names were all a part of trying out dirty talk with a partner. But, in the heat of the moment, hearing him call you those names made you think of times where you were called them by someone who actually meant it. Bullies in school, perverts on the bus, drunkards at the club. Obviously he wasn’t any of those people, quite the opposite, actually. But still, your mind went back to those hard times, and you did not want any of that to be associated with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo, the kindest man you ever had the pleasure of knowing. Kyungsoo, the man with the loudest laughter hidden behind his stoic façade. Kyungsoo, the man whose cooking you absolutely adored. He was the textbook definition of an amazing boyfriend, and you wanted nothing bad to remind you of him.

You heard a soft knock on the bathroom door. You wiped your eyes with some spare toilet paper before walking to the locked door.

“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo asked, worry laced in his voice. You didn’t answer, looking down at your hands in shame. You were ashamed that you could not handle the simple act of sexual degradation, you could not handle being called a small, little insult that Kyungsoo did not even mean. If characters in the erotica you read could handle it, why couldn’t you? That’s what you told yourself, at least.

“(Y/N), please open the door. I need to know if you’re okay.” Kyungsoo pleaded, jiggling the handle. As if a dam were to break, you sunk down onto the floor and began sobbing uncontrollably. Kyungsoo jiggled the handle once more before leaving to get the key.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around you as soon as you heard the door open. Your sobs only intensified as you heard soft reassurances come from your boyfriend. He sat you up and began running a hand up and down your back soothingly.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, throwing your arms around Kyungsoo’s neck. You felt yourself hold him tighter, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Why are you saying sorry, baby?” Kyungsoo asked, kissing the top of your head.

“I... I...”

You struggled to get your words out. Your heart raced inside of your chest as you felt yourself start to shake. Kyungsoo let you go and moved himself in front of you.

“Breathe with me, (Y/N),” You looked around the bathroom for a bit before meeting Kyungsoo’s eyes. He took a deep breath, motioning for you to do the same. You inhaled deeply, holding your breath for a moment before exhaling. “There you go, one more...” You mirrored Kyungsoo’s breathing a few more times, feeling yourself calm down. Just to be safe, you took one more deep breath, feeling your heartrate slow to its normal speed. You looked at your boyfriend and gave him a weak smile, taking his hand into yours.

“Do you feel calmer now?” you nodded, squeezing his hand. “Good. Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to, whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

You thanked him before standing and leading him back to his bedroom. He sat on the foot of his bed, patting the area next to him for you to sit with him. You took his hands into yours again, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for before. I should have told you before we started, but I’m really uncomfortable with degradation. I know you brought up the rough stuff and dirty talk, and I’m mostly okay with that, but the whole degradation thing slipped my mind and I should have brought it up earlier. I know that’s probably something you’re into and I’m sorry that I can’t really provide that for you. P... Please don’t be mad at me.” You avoided Kyungsoo’s gaze in fear he would reject your apology.

“You don’t have to apologize. And I’m not mad at you. I should have asked you if you liked that stuff. But thank you so much for telling me, (Y/N). Please don’t think that I’d be mad for something that makes you uncomfortable, especially in bed. I want you to be comfortable with me always, (Y/N).” Kyungsoo wrapped his arms around you, kissing your temple softly. You returned his affections, cuddling close to him.

“Thank you, so so much.”

Never have you felt so safe, so valid, so appreciated. Never have you felt so heard, so seen by a partner. You curled closer to Kyungsoo, peppering his bare shoulder with kisses.

“We don’t have to do anything else today, do you wanna watch a movie or something?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Can we just... cuddle?” you responded, looking up at him.

“Of course.” Kyungsoo stood and led you to the front of the bed, moving the blankets so you can get underneath. He laid next to you and covered both of you with the blankets. He held you close as you laid your head on his bare chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt as if you were home.

Home was now with Kyungsoo.

Forevermore with Do Kyungsoo.

#exowritersnet #d.o x reader #d.o x you #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo x you #kyungsoo imagine #kyungsoo smut #exo smut #exo imagine #exo imagines #exo scenario #exo scenarios #exo fanfiction #exo fluff

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nexyra · 4 years ago

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RWBY's Love Language - Part 2

Hello friend ! I'm back at it with a second part and whatever character I can think of ! (Among which best boy Oscar because he deserves it, and also more adults)

Let's go !

***

Oscar Pine

So ! While I love Oscar with my whole heart, honestly guessing his Love Language is no easy feat. One thing for sure : touch isn't is thing even if it's how everyone else chose to communicate their love.

I saw a post a while back detailing how Oscar is always putting his hands up as a barrier when he's scared or uncomfortable and that makes me cry a little instead but it's true TT. Anyway...

In the latest volumes we've got quite a bit of comforting Oscar-talks but I have to wonder how much of that is due to Ozpin's influence really. As a result I've decided to settle on... Acts of Service or Quality Time ! This is based on a few details : when people are upset with him in one shape or form, Oscar was always very eager to prove himself useful, give some aspect of concrete help (such as cooking a Casserole, ringing any bell ?). Plus I imagine that's the exact brand of help his Aunt would have needed most on a farm. Added to that, he always seems fairly happy to be included, be with the others no matter what's going on. Training ? Yay ! A movie with Jaune & Weiss ? Smiling puppy look. Fancy party ? Shenanigans together ! So yea, I love seeing my boy loved and hugged but please everyone settle for the loving he's most comfortable with <3

“She made a choice! A choice to put others before herself! So do I.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I thought you guys would appreciate a hot meal after... spending all day looking for me, apparently.”

“No, it's okay. These past few days, I've been scared of the same things you were. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be... me. But I did some thinking, and I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Ozpin

For our favorite immortal wizard aka not quite dead Headmaster... I think the answer is rather obvious. When you're so careful with your words, but also so fiercely devoted to humanity, Words of Affirmation is a must. Ozpin constantly does his best to calm, to reassure. He's good at controlling the conversation and getting people where he wants... Except he more often than not use it to make them think and help them reach an healing ore motivating conclusion. This man is so insisten on giving and cultivating hope, so painfully aware of just how much words can change... There's no doubt in my mind that it's through these very same words that he tries to fight the darkness in others' mind, even when they don't want to let themselves be persuaded. And with some help from the farmboi, Ozpin is gaining in honesty and earnestness. And that can only help in giving comfort.

But to be honest... If you offer him a hug I doubt he'd refuse, and he definitely deserves one. Also therapy. For Oscar too. Everyone in therapy 2k21.

“Ruby. I've made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet. But at this moment I would not consider your appointment to leader to be one of them. Do you?”

“It's not every day that friends are able to come together like this. Time has a way of testing our bonds, but it's nights like these that can help keep them stronger than ever. Nights like these are ones we'll never forget.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Arc. Your journey is far from over, and the same might be said for all of you. Unlocking your Semblance isn't the end. It can still grow and evolve. Providing you are willing to put in the work, who knows what could happen?”

- - - - - - - - - -

Emerald Sustrai

Now here I'm gonna go ahead and say that the way Emerald has been taught to express her love and the way SHE would rather preffered to be loved most likely do not align. At the side of someone like Cinder, and even Mercury who isn't exactly the most emotionally vulnerable person; the only brand of love that gets an easy pass is Acts of Service, and that's probably what Emerald is the most used to. I can go on a mission with you. I can help. We go right back to the "I can be useful" mentality and I'm not sure she's been shown any other way honestly. Let's be real though : if someone offered a hug or some gentle words ? She'd probably pout & fuss but I hardly doubt she'd object.

“I don't care about Salem! But I owe Cinder everything. You want to fight her that bad? Be my guest.”

“I just... Cinder was the only family I ever had. She cared about me, taught me things... But without her here, I don't know if what we're doing--”

“I've been working on my Semblance. I can help. I won't tell anybody.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Pyrrha Nikos

What's with everyone and dedicating their whole love toward just helping their teammates anyway they can ?! Stop ! But any way, you guessed it. I'm pretty sure one of Pyrrha's top way of showing love is Acts of Service, and nothing means quite as much to her as Quality Time. For someone who's been put on a pedestal and has a hard time relating to people; both touch and words can be a bit awkward. But if they're wrapped up neatly in a training session or semblance explanations ? Well that's already a more familiar area. Pyrrha gives her whole to her friends and those she cares about. And in exchange, if anyone can simply... be there and spend time with her... May it be at the ball or simply sitting in the courtyard... I'm sure our girl would be delighted.

“Jaune, you know if you ever need help, you can just ask.”

“I'm constantly surrounded by love and praise; but when you're placed on a pedestal like that for so long, you become separated from the people that put you there in the first place. But thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime.”

“I'll do it. If you believe this will help humanity, then I will become your Fall Maiden.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Qrow Branwen

If I say Gift Giving for the corvid, is someone gonna hit me ? Come on it's fun ! Okay, more seriously... I think this kind of love conversation is kind of a necessity for Qrow. With a semblance such as Bad Luck, making everything complicated... Qrow tries to keep his distance from those he cares about. And since he's an emotionally repressed (but caring) asshole on top of it... Well that kinda narrows down his option. You know what DOESN'T put anyone at risk but can still bring smiles on their face ? GIFTS. Shiny things, souvenirs from his missions all over the world to give to 2 smol nieces. Sounds safe right ? That said, as any good emotionally unavailable character in this show, I gotta say Qrow probably has a thing for helping out and making himself useful in relation to Oz, Tai or the rest of the inner circle. So you know what that means *whisper* Acts of Service.

That said ! When it comes to receiving some love back... Qrow probably likes everything he doesn't allow himself to have. Soft touches, loving & comforting words, spending time with a friend without his semblance making everything complicated... We know that's all he wants.

“You idiot. I know you didn't do this.”

“Look, pal, I'm not sure who you are, but you need to leave my niece alone.”

“No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good...”

- - - - - - - - - -

Clover Ebi

And among our newbies (and gone too soon) friends we have Clover ! Clover was a very good contrast to our dusty old crow but also a great help. Kind-hearted, perceptive and honest; he knew just how to put Qrow's self-loathing in his place and push him to give himself some credit. He always had a nice word or a joke for everyone, and visibly the rock of the Ace Ops : an expert a keeping the moral up and the mood companiable. Evidently, Words of Affirmation was his expertise. Had things gone differently, I'm sure we'd have had time for many more earnest and helpful conversations with this teal-eyed fisherman.

“It's a good thing they had someone to look up to and get them through it. Not everyone is so lucky.”

“I meant deflect a compliment. Those kids wouldn't be where they are without you. You've had more of an effect on them than you realize.”

“We don't have to fight, friend.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Winter Schnee

And today in the "emotionally unavailable" category we have... Winter Schnee ! TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS PEOPLE ! Just - I would say look at Ruby but even she doesn't talk about her bad vibes... Nor does any of the "Words of Affirmation" peeps. Honestly what's wrong with y'all people ? Anyway Winter cares so much. Is it hidden behind professionalism and a stern *big sister* demeanour ? Sure. But it doesn't negate just how much she loves her closed ones. She's fiercely loyal, and even if she doesn't let her personal feelings get in the way of her duty and doing what needs to be done, no one is allowed to say she doesn't care. Countrary to Weiss, Winter doesn't seem as good nor as aware of the love that exists in simply *being* with people. Rather, she's dutiful and ready to help any way she can when given the chance. You guessed it, yet another Acts of Service kind of love... Maybe I'm doing this wrong XD. I'm on the fence about Words of Affirmation as well. Despite her standoffish looks, Winter has always been very open & reassuring during her discussions with Penny. But she's more stern when it comes to Weiss so I dunno x)

“I don't recall asking about your ranking, I'm asking how you've been. Are you eating properly? Have you taken up any hobbies? Are you making new friends?”

“You've grown up a bit, haven't you? You're not the little girl clinging to the family name anymore.”

“You can't just buy trust like everything else! You have to earn it!”

And that's it for Part 2 ! I might do some other characters if people suggest some but I don't have a pressing need to right now. I have many ideas of songs to apply to various characters however so that's prob what my next posts will consist of (or fun templates)

If anyone has tips to create RWBY gifs or links to download the eps in good quality I'll take it ! Good day everyone !

#rwby #oscar pine #emerald sustrai #ozpin #winter schnee #qrow branwen #clover ebi #pyrrha nikos #love language #fair game #love langauges

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a-aexotic · 4 years ago

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could you write a fred weasley one where you two are secretly together then someone is flirting with you at a common room party and making you really uncomfortable and then they start getting angry when you’re not into it so fred sees it comes to stop it but he’s like “why are you even helping her” and he lets it slip that you’re dating? ty that would be delightful:)

warnings: heated kissing, being uncomfortable around a man, some misogyny, i think that’s it?

a/n: thanks for the request love! <3 also, quick sort of disclaimer, as soon as i read this request i remembered this guy in my class who literally wouldn’t leave me alone, so liam is based off of him and the time we met in the cafeteria but i changed it a bit just in case he finds me on here lmao- i hope you don’t mind! also this is unedited but i’m editing it soon! :] also this is a gender neutral reader :)

FRED PLANTED A SMALL KISS ONTO YOUR LIPS IN BETWEEN GIGGLES AS HE GRABBED YOUR WAIST CLOSER TO HIM. you and the red-head were in a closet near potions -- and you both knew if you were caught you’d be dead. you had your next class in fifteen minutes, so that meant fifteen minutes of making out happily in a broom closet.

you and fred weasley had been in a relationship for about six months now. you really liked him, and he really liked you. he made you feels things you’d never ever felt before -- and that made you excited to say the least.

before you’d started dating, you’d been best friends. and really -- that was the only thing that anyone saw you two as. they saw you as completely platonic “best friends” who are just very touchy. you and fred both decided not to tell anyone of this relationship, only george because both of you knew he could never lie to his twin.

his sister, ginny knows something is obviously up, but you and fred just happen to be very sneaky so she hasn’t found out . . . yet. ginny was like a little sister to you, so it’s very hard to keep such a big lie from her.

fred slipped his hands underneath your shirt, earning a glare from you as he smirked at you. “your skin is very soft --”

“that’s incredibly creepy, freddie. out of all the things you could’ve complimented me on -- you chose my skin?” you let out a quiet laugh, as fred kissed your cheek happily.

“fine -- you smell amazing today, m’lady,” fred mused as you let out another laugh. fred loved hearing your laugh -- if he was ever having a bad day, all he had to do was hear your laugh and he’d be fine.

so, he made it his mission to make you laugh every day at least fifteen times, which he always succeeded.

“thanks freddie,” you winked at him, as you looked at the muggle watch on your wrist. you let out a soft gasp, “merlin, i’m going to be late! mcgongall is going to murder me-”

“you’ll be find! it’s only- shit, okay, okay, it’s only . . . yup, you’re going to be late. actually -- no you’re not,” before you could respond, he took your hand and ran through the halls. you could barely keep up as he ran to the classroom.

students glanced at you and fred as you ran through the halls quickly. with fred’s speed, you got there in only a few minutes with a pant breaks for you. as you arrived at mcgongall’s, you were a panting mess as fred laughed.

“merlin,” you could barely form sentences as you out your hands on your knees. “merlin, fred. that was . . . tiring. let’s never do that again,”

fred nodded as he leaned in to peck your lips. “m’kay, love. i’ll see you later?”

“yes! freddie, go, you’ll be even more late.” you stated as he laughed and nodded once again. “see you later,”

he walked away with a wink. you watched in delight as your boyfriend walked away. when was his back so freaking attractive? you thought to yourself as you entered mcgongall’s classroom.

YOU LET OUT A LOUD YAWN AS YOU ENTERED THE GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM. you smiled at the twins, as they winked at you. well -- fred winked at you, as george waved. you quickly sat down on the couch next to a boy whom you don’t know the name of. he seemed nice as he smiled sweetly as you sat down, taking a book from the nearest table.

“hey,” the boy says in a causal tone. he made it seem liked you’d been friends for years, and there was something unsettling about that.

“hi,” you replied awkwardly as you brushed him off, opening the book. obviously, he didn’t take the hint as he completely faced you. you looked up from your book with an annoyed expression.

“i’m liam, you’re y/n, right?”

you nodded. his name sounded bitterly familar as you remembered the patil twins telling what a creep he was. you also remembered ron and harry bashing him the other for something he did.

“what are you reading, y/n?” he said your name in a certain tone that made you very uncomfortable.

“dunno, something about quidditch.”

he laughed. “of course you don’t know anything about quidditch. do you want me to . . . teach you?”

you glared at him. you knew a lot about quidditch because of the twins -- and that was just plain misogyny. “nope, i’m good.”

“as you probably already know, i used to be on the team,” he came closer to you, and you kept staring uncomfortably. he put his hand on your thigh as he continued. “and-”

“i don’t care, please take your hand off of me.” you spoke in a harsh tone, earning a hurt expression coming onto his face. he didn’t move, instead he ignored your comment.

“hey, uhm, y/n . . . everything okay?” fred’s voice echoed as he got up from his seat with george. he would’ve done something earlier, but him and george were planning a prank on snape and didn’t notice you nor liam.

“yes, everything’s fine weasley.” liam sneered as he rolled his eyes. fred’s eyes didn’t leave his hand on your thigh, and he tried his best not go absloutely ballistic and smash his face onto the table and punch it until someone dragged fred away.

george got up sooner, standing behind fred in an intimidating way. “he didn’t ask you, you creep. he asked y/n,”

“no, he’s a creep, get him away.” you quickly said in a sort of distressed tone. you would’ve left sooner, but in all honesty you were sort of scared until fred noticed you.

there were a few laughs scattered as the attention was on you four. fred glared at him. “she was obviously uncomfortable, so what were you trying to do?”

liam kept trying to find words to defend himself, and he just couldn’t. he finally got up, and in their faces. ”why are you even helping her!”

there were some shocked expressions on the gryffindors -- he was very stupid. why wouldn’t he help you?

“because she’s my bloody girlfriend and i’m tired of people not knowing!” he blurted as you gasped. you were not expecting that. george laughed, as harry jumped from his chair.

“i bloody knew it! i knew it! hermione and ron, you owe me five galleons!” harry cheered as ron groaned loudly. liam stood there, dumbstruck as you smiled.

“yeah, you bloody creep. you even look at her again, i’ll crush your nose on the floor then i’ll proceed to kick-”

“it’s alright, freddie.” you chriped as you pecked his cheek. it felt so good to do that in public. george let out a gag.

“get a room, you two.”

“oh shut up georgie, you’re just jealous!”

“no! if anything, you’re jealous because i’m hotter!”

“well, if you’re hotter, where’s your girlfriend!”

“oh sod off-”

“shush you two,” you laughed as the pair sighed and nodded. fred happily took your hand, as you sat dangerously close to him.

“oh my god! what’d i miss!” ginny gasped as she walked into the common room, as you and fred erupted in laughter, ginny stood there in confusion.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfics #syds fics

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 4 years ago

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EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

#is this even good #i wrote this instead of an essay #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x reader #me 🤝 commas #me 🤝 ... okay #the quality of this fic 📈📉📈📉📈

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weasleyswizardpleases · 4 years ago

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Playing Nurse (4/4)

Summary: Fred Weasley keeps showing up in Hogwarts’ infirmary, where you apprentice when you’re not in class, but he quickly becomes more than just a patient to you.

Warnings/notes: Blood, dental injury, bruising, broken bones. Language, kissing, some nudity, coming out. Not super graphic but it takes place in the school infirmary so people’s injuries and illnesses are described. Trans masc!Fred x fem!reader. Last chapter! Thanks for loving this one as much as I do you guys :)

Tags: @lucymfer @accioweaslcy @manuosorioh

4. We Must Stop Meeting Like This

A week goes by before you see Fred again. You’ve pretty much given up on him liking you after your somewhat unexpected last encounter. But, like clockwork, he’s in the infirmary again over the weekend.

When you arrive for your shift, the infirmary is already bustling. Pomfrey is doing intake on a group of students while a stern but somewhat worried looking McGonagall stands by. You take in the scene: Ron Weasley is there with a busted lip, Malfoy’s a few feet away, holding his head and looking dazed, Crabbe and Goyle by his side in disheveled states. You’re unsurprised to see an incredibly peeved Katie Bell, her stockings ripped, glaring at the Slytherins. She’s limping heavily.

“What happened here? How can I help?”

“There was… a fight,” McGonagall says tiredly.

“Go ahead and examine Ron, should be a quick episkey, and then move on to Mr. Crabbe, I think it’ll be much the same but I haven’t had a proper look yet,” instructs Madam Pomfrey.

You take Ron to an exam table and give him a quick once over while asking him what happened. He explains that Fred and George weren’t having it and things escalated quickly.

“Turned into an all out brawl before anyone could get a word in edgewise. Percy was watching and ran to snitch, well, thank god he did, because they’re in really bad shape,” he says.

“Who? The Slytherins?” you say, using an episkey charm on his lip and a few stray scratches across his arms, probably from being thrown to the ground in the scuffle.

“Fred, especially, and Malfoy, and…” Ron continues, but you’re no longer listening. You look around and notice that the twins are unaccounted for. You’re finishing up on Ron when George and Filch come in carrying a stretcher with Fred on it. He seems barely conscious. You walk alongside them, asking all the questions you know to ask. This one is yours- Pomfrey is busy with Malfoy, who you suspect has a concussion, and will probably need to look after Katie’s ankle next.

George tells you that Malfoy hit Fred with a stunning spell, but after he fell, they kept kicking at him. You elect not to revive Fred fully yet, first casting a pain relief spell. You examine his clothed torso, feeling along his ribs, and notice that one of the bones feels out of place. You frown and continue lightly feeling along the area, and notice that he seems to be wearing a tight, thick undershirt.

“He’s got a broken rib. We’ll have to remove any garments that might constrict the area to set the bone properly. Could I ask you two to step out for a moment?” you ask, gesturing to the curtain out of the cubicle. Filch departs, but before George leaves he pauses.

“Don’t tell anyone, ok? It would break his heart,” he says seriously before stepping out.

You have little time to wonder what he means. You cut open Fred’s tee shirt and, as you suspected upon palpating his torso, find an undergarment laid tight across his chest. Like a sports bra, maybe, but why- in a flash, you understand the secret Fred was talking about the other day, and what George was saying to keep to yourself just now. It’s a binder. Of course.

You waste no time reflecting and slice his binder cleanly down the middle to remove pressure from the area. You set about doing a complex set of spells- first checking for internal bleeding, then setting the broken bone back in place, then casting a bandaging spell so he’s not tempted to move about before it’s fully set.

“Rennervate!” you say, flicking your wand in Fred’s direction. He comes to, looking around in confusion, his eyes finally landing on you.

“How do you feel?” you ask him.

“Utter shit,” he says. “What happened, exactly?”

“Stunning spell from Malfoy or one of his goons, George said. You wound up with a broken rib from getting kicked while you were out, but the scan didn’t show anything else too terrible. Just a few bruises.”

“Those cheating bastards. I’d love to spit in their faces right now,” he says, moaning as he tries to sit up.

“Just lay down,” you say, resting your hand gently on his shoulder. “It should be pretty much healed by tomorrow morning, but it’s going to be painful until then. If you want, I can ask Pomfrey to give you something to help you sleep while I’m out fetching you a new shirt,” you offer. You pulled the blanket up to cover his chest when you finished working on his ribs, but he’s still shirtless underneath. You watch as he realizes you must have seen his chest while you were patching him up. He grimaces uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’d like that shirt, please,” he says, pursing his lips. You dash off to one of the cabinets to fetch an extra set of clothes and an extra blanket, since you know he’ll be staying the night.

“Here,” you say, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” You excuse yourself to let him change, and touch bases with Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall has taken Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle, who are all fully healed, back to her office. Katie Bell is sitting on an exam table, still looking quite angry with her swollen leg propped up high. George is lurking worriedly near the door. You make your way over to him.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Fred is going to be perfectly fine by tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey will have a look at him to make sure there’s nothing I missed, since it was a serious injury, but his rib is all patched up.” He sighs in relief.

“And don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” you add discreetly, smiling knowingly at him. He relaxes fully and nods in return. “Good luck with McGonagall. She did not look happy.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Take good care of him,” he says, nodding towards his brother’s bed before leaving to accept his punishment.

You return to Fred’s bedside to find him looking quite sheepish.

“Feeling okay?” you ask softly.

“Sure. Bit embarrassed. I wasn’t hoping you’d find out like this, you know.”

“Your big secret is that you’re trans? Freddie, who in the world would care about that?”

“I dunno, some people.”

“Uh, yeah, bigots,” you say, laughing. “I certainly don’t care. I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Thanks to you. Wanna sit?” he asks sweetly. You can’t say no, so you agree to wait with him at least until Pomfrey comes in to look him over.

“So, did you ever talk to that girl?” you ask, trying to make small talk after all the excitement. He looks at you like you’re a nutcase.

“Y/N, are you thick?” he laughs hard, causing him to wince and hold his torso. He gasps in pain, but grins through it. “Honestly, who did you think I was interested in?” he asks, biting back laughter. You look at him, your cheeks hot. What is he getting at?

“How should I know? I hardly see you, outside of keeping you alive in here,” you say defensively.

“Wow, I thought for sure you knew. I was so embarrassed when you didn’t say anything, I’ve been avoiding you for weeks!”

“What? Why?” you ask, but it quickly dawns on you what you may’ve been missing. “Wait… what?!” you say, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Yep, you got it.”

“You like me?”

“Yes, you idiot!”

“Come here,” you say. You lean down and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he pulls you in gently for a real kiss, a long one. You feel so much tension you didn’t even know you were holding in leave your body, and stand back up, laughing big, just as Madam Pomfrey parts the curtain.

“Well, everyone seems in good spirits in here,” she says. You both nod awkwardly.

“Y/N has been taking such good care of me I hardly knew I was hurt,” Fred says cheerfully. Pomfrey gives him a quick once over, agrees with your diagnoses and treatment, and leaves you two alone once again.

“You know, we have got to stop meeting like this,” Fred says, looking up at you. “Not that you don’t look lovely in your apron.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“How about a date?”

“I certainly wouldn’t object to a nice evening with a ruggedly handsome young man,” you say, giggling gleefully. He flashes a big smile, showing off his chipped tooth.

“Well, it’s a deal. You get me up and going again and I treat you to dinner,” he says.

“Deal! I've got to go, though,” you say, planting a sneaky kiss on him before you leave, “I am at work, after all.” You practically float out the door, proud of your work in more ways than one. Fred Weasley. Yours at last.

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years ago

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save it for the morning after (3/3)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: E (Explicit) for Smut Word Count: 7,850

Summary: Aqua learns the value of being vulnerable.Terra learns to trust his body to another. Everyone gets a happy ending. ;)

Read on AO3

A/N: AAAAHHHH Happy Terraqua Day!!!! I can’t believe I finally finished this one, it always felt like it would never happen. I’m actually quite nervous - I don’t take the same kind of path of other smut and being so deviant honestly freaks me out so much. I really do pull this story into extreme directions for smut, that I wonder if I can call it smut at all. But let’s see. Hope you like. <3

~*~*~*~*~

“Aqua.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Go ahead.”

“....”

“Are you okay?”

“The... um, your scars...”

“They’re not yours.”

“Aqua—”

“They aren’t.”

“Please.”

“...They’re not yours.”

~*~*~*~*~

Well, damn.

Ven hones in on Terra—a ballsy move considering it’s a super-bad idea to get this close to a large opponent—but Ven skids, spinning on his knees and tripping Terra like a pet running through its owner’s legs. Ven serves an uppercut with his short Keyblade. It almost jabs Terra on the ribs if not for his lurch backward, and he lands squarely on his ass against the desk behind him.

A pot of ink rattles and tips, spilling all over his pants and spreading up the spine of his shirt.

Ven snorts. “You look like you shit yourself.”

Terra wipes his backside, picking up excess ink in layers. It’s slick, skating through his fingers with the weight of iron and dripping onto the floor. More of it runs between his legs, finding a way in between cracks and folds of skin, moistening up his boxers. Damn it. He slathers his hand through Ven’s hair with so much force (Hey!) that Ven waddles to stay in balance.

“And you look like you’ve been picking through trash.”

Ink clumps chunks of blond hair together, drooling down Ven’s ears and staining his collar. It makes him look oily for lack of a better term, like someone who hasn’t taken a shower in weeks. When he touches his scalp out of reflex he flinches, wiping his coated fingers on his own shirt… before realizing what he’s doing. He groans.

“It suits you,” Terra says.

“I dunno.” Ven wipes the rest of it on Terra’s shirt. “Looks better on you.” Might as well. The shirt is honestly ruined.

One corner of the offending desk is covered in globs of shiny black. Terra corrects the ink bottle and surveys the damage. The tile floor will be easy to clean, but the wood is inhaling the color.

“Aqua’s going to kill us,” Ven mutters. “She spent a lot of time in this room.”

Weeks of time choosing which books to display on the shelves. Days researching the right chalkboard to purchase. Journeys spent gathering minerals for students to practice with: ash from a far away volcano, water from the forest river nearby, unearthed dirt from the garden, and feathers from nests settled at the peak of the tallest mountain. Aqua has a vision of this room playing the dual role of serving lectures and encouraging hands-on experimentation in a safe environment. She wants it to be respectable and impressive before the semester starts. They’re not allowed to traverse the room with shoes on, and Terra and Ven were respectable about that before one of them (Ven) started to get cocky about his fighting abilities.

Yeah, they fucked up. “Think of it this way. We proved it’s not practical for physical training,” Terra says.

“You’re the one who’s going to tell her that.” Ven scoffs, splaying a wet towel on the floor.

Terra pulls his suspenders over his head and lets them hang from his waistband. Pinching his stained muscle shirt off and bundling it up, he uses it as a rag to absorb the puddle on the table. What’s sinking into his socks is now warm. He ignores it.

“Do you think I could pull this off?” Ven asks as a by-the-way, twiddling a shy hand at the back of his greasy head.

“Black hair?”

“No, you’re right. It’s creepy.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Pfft, you also ‘didn’t’”—Ven bookends the word with finger quotations—“spar fairly.”

Terra considers throwing his damp shirt at Ven’s face. “I’m not at my prime yet.”

“That’s not it.” Ven flips the towel and swipes the remaining streaks with the cleaner side. “You’re holding back. You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not holding back.” He is. Just the image of raising his Keyblade against either of his friends is enough to make him nauseous, but he swallows it to be a good sport.

Giving it his all is something else entirely, a deeper, invasive illness.

“I know you can hit harder than that.” Ven dunks the towel in a pail of water, clouding it.

“I just have a lot in my mind and it’s hard to... relax, I guess.”

There’s a moment of pregnant quiet before Ven says pointedly, “I thought Aqua was helping you out with that.”

A moist squish slaps Ven on the nose.

“Now you’re being sensitive,” Ven says, pulling Terra’s shirt off his shoulder.

“You missed a spot,” says Terra, using his thumb to smear the stain across Ven’s cheek. For shits and giggles he continues upward, rubbing raccoon circles on Ven’s eyelids. “You really pull this off.”

“Do you annoy her this much?”

“She enjoys it.”

“Ugggh.” Ven throws Terra’s hands off of him, his chin tucked in so much that two layers of neck skin fold over. “Gross.”

Terra pauses. Gross wasn’t what he expected out of Ven’s mouth.

In fact, Terra hasn’t been sure of how Ven took the news the first time.

Oh, Ven had said when they told him Aqua was moving into Terra’s room. Okay. Cool. He shrugged as if he could have heard more exciting news, and left to take a short walk in the woods with Chirithy. The three of them never spoke about it again. Ven wouldn’t mention a word when he saw them dragging her dresser and vanity table, and seldom joined them if he heard them laughing together with the door closed.

Things are changing in minute strokes, in seconds that cluster for as long as Terra can recognize them, until they dissipate and become something not quite foreign but never quite familiar anymore, as though where he comes from is far from home and who he thinks he knows are almost-strangers.

“Have we ever made you uncomfortable?” Terra asks.

“What, no!” Ven waves his hand, feigning shock, staring at his shoes and everywhere else but Terra. “I mean, Aqua’s been Aqua since we got back, and you’re just weird sometimes, but—”

“Then why do you...” Terra sighs, choosing his words. “Avoid us when we’re together?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

An almost-lie. “I hope you don’t think we don’t want you around.”

“Noooo. Neither of you make me feel that way.”

“But you do.”

Ven lifts his shoulders higher than his ears and drops them with the same weight as throwing books on the floor. “It’s just… nothing’s the same.”

Nothing is, what with the quiet mornings since the Master is no longer here to prepare breakfast before the sun rises, or huff at anyone when they disturb his meditation. Now they’re preparing the castle for the largest student body of Keyblade wielders it’s seen in years, something Terra thought would be a good distraction for everyone.

But Ven’s right. Home doesn’t feel like home when the floors are re-tiled, and specific rooms are repainted, and the Master’s favorite lounge chair sits empty in the same spot in the library by the fireplace. Maybe for Ven, home is the turn right to knock on Terra’s door and the turn left to knock on Aqua’s.

“It’s weird.” Ven grimaces. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m used to talking to you about things you promised to keep from Aqua—”

“I still wouldn’t tell her anything!”

“—and I’m used to it being the three of us.”

Terra pauses. “We’re still the three of us. We’re still best friends.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it,” Ven says, smiling warmly. “You are one half of two. You share a language I can’t butt into.”

Terra kneels onto one knee, brushing oily hair out of Ven’s face. Aqua would have liked this look on him: less spiky. “Ven, you’re always going to be a part of our lives.”

“Stop worrying. What you have is not a bad thing. I think it’s kind of awesome. I wish you’d give it your all in a fight. I wanna see what you and her are capable of together, because it’d be huge.”

“I’m only trying to say that we don’t want you to feel like a third wheel. You’re more than welcome to knock on our door anytime—”

“Ah. No. No thanks.” He shoos Terra away.

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna see anything.” Ven squints.

Terra snorts. “You’re not going to see—”

“I don’t wanna hear about it either.”

“But—”

“Nope.” Ven covers his ears with his palms. “Nothing. No inside jokes. No pet names. Yuck. Keep that to yourself.”

Terra presses his lips together to zip up the snickering. “Okay, I won’t say anything.”

“Good. I don’t want any images in my head.” He wipes his hands like he’s done a good job explaining himself. “I should’ve expected it anyhow.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ven says slowly. “I mean, the Master kinda knew.”

“He said something to you?” Terra asks with a shaky voice. He’s flipping through memories, when he and Aqua were very careful and very private, when they didn't touch each other in case there were witnesses near. He was so certain he’d suffer punishment if Eraqus ever found out. Lists of long essays about the dangers of being reckless with emotions every time Aqua made him laugh too much. Grueling physical regiments to knock discipline into his body every time he made bad decisions based on a tug between his legs.

“I didn’t understand it at the time,” Ven says, leaning back on his hands and tapping his heels on the floor. “We were all hanging out, and you and Aqua left, and then he got sad.

“When I asked him what was wrong, he told me you guys created a very bright Light together. A Light bonded is a Light stronger, he said.” Ven mimics the Master’s lilts in speech, using his finger to emphasize points. “But be aware, Ven. Such a blinding Light casts an equally blinding, deep Shadow. What a dangerous force that is.”

It’s a good imitation. The ache in Terra’s chest twists into his guts and warms him at the same time, like a loving hug that squeezes too hard.

“Honestly it made me think you and Aqua were doing something you weren’t supposed to.”

“Maybe we were.” Terra’s throat constricts, his voice gravelly and his shame nostalgic. “We thought the same sometimes.”

“Which isn’t fair. Why can normal people experience that but it’s such a big deal if Keybearers do it?”

Because when you elevate the person you admire to a standard you can’t match, it makes you do stupid things. Aqua had followed him world after world, expecting it would eventually lead to a fight. Too many Keyblades in a friendship does no one good.

To-may-to, to-mah-to. They did end up fighting, it just wasn’t his own Keyblade that inevitably hurt her. What a dangerous force that is.

“So the Master did not approve?” Terra asks.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Ven rubs his cheek in thought, forgetting all about the ink. “He said your combined Light looked beautiful and warm. And that you’d have many nights where it would be enough when it gets hard... Honestly, he only wished that you keep your head on your shoulders.”

Wishes asked for are wishes granted, the Master used to say, so long as you work for them. The years Terra had wished for this exact approval had only left him with space to forge false hope. Nothing major, nothing long-winded. Just a simple, impossible wish as they placed the flower wreath on his memorial and bid their goodbyes.

Finally, that wish is fulfilled. As Ven grants it to him, it’s hard to believe or accept, sitting on the floor of what used to be a ballroom, covered in drying ink.

“Thanks, Ven.” Tears cascade down his cheeks, pretending to be inconspicuous. He wipes them with his clean forearm but he can’t keep up. There’s one for every moment in the last twelve years when he wanted to apologize to the Master, leaving his eyes burning. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop soon.”

“S’okay.” Ven tucks his ankles under, giving Terra time to process. Ven knows when a topic is too sensitive. But he can also tell when enough time has passed for the raw cuts to seal, when everyone’s ready to laugh. It’s his special gift. Only after Terra slows down does Ven lean forward. “Did you know you make this ugly face when you cry? You’re a train wreck.”

Terra yanks Ven’s head under his arm (Oomph, grunts Ven), locking his elbow around the neck.

Ven beats on Terra’s biceps. “Let go of me.”

Terra summons his pauldron, elbow pad, and gauntlet—for good measure. He licks salt from his lips and smirks, clutching Ven more, sinking him into the pecs.

Ven coughs. “You smell horrible.”

“Nasty-horrible or heroic-horrible?”

“Do you make Aqua sniff your armpit? Let go of me.”

A poor mistake. Ven tumbles back when he’s let go, but he grabs Terra’s shirt before his head hits the floor. He punches it into Terra’s stomach so quickly that Terra isn’t allowed time to react or block, leaving a sprawled, black bruise over his abs.

“Put a shirt on,” Ven says when Terra can’t rub it off. “Freak.”

~*~*~*~

Their bedroom door is ajar. Terra hears the shuffling of feet. He quiets his arrival, crumpling his messed-up shirt in a fist, and leans on the door frame to watch her. Aqua pulls a book out of a stack deftly with one hand, the other carrying a cheese pastry. She swallows a final bite, licking her fingers (something she’d never do in front of anybody else but him), and meditates on the chew before sitting at her desk.

He likes her best like this: half-dressed, without her usual corset and sashes, down to nothing else except her shirt and shorts, simple and free.

Her longest scar creeps out of her backless shirt. A snake, a reminder of the damage Keyblades are capable of: they never heal and barely fade. This is why wielders shouldn’t raise them against people.

Gluing her attention to an open book, Aqua reaches over for more cheese pastry, but her hand meets a plate of crumbs. When she realizes, she snaps up, alert as if she’s been robbed, glancing over her shoulder for signs of movement. This is also something she would not appreciate anyone else seeing, how she’s afraid of being alone, how she’s paranoid that she’s actually not.

Terra steps in and taps her shoulder before she could ask him what happened to the pastry. “That looked delicious.”

She blinks, slowly absorbing his words; she doesn’t feel well today, nothing to be ashamed of. Terra says nothing else. This way, he doesn’t bring more attention to the fact. He won’t touch her so she doesn’t feel coddled (despite how much he wants to). He won’t crack a dumb joke when there’s better moments for them. This way, she keeps her dignity.

When Aqua sees the smears and handprints on him, her eyes finally find reality. “What happened to you?” She stands up and swipes the stain on his chest. It’s dry but not enough, leaving a mark of gray on her fingers.

“An accident.” Terra clears his throat, trying to seem unbothered. Just another day in the castle. Everyone gets covered in ink, what’s the big deal?

If she hears the hesitation in his voice (and she should, she knows him too well), she doesn’t care, marching to their bathroom. The sink turns on.

“What kind of an accident?” she calls. The water flow is disturbed. She’s washing her own hands first.

“Eh, we spilled some ink,” Terra says, praying to the stars she won’t interrogate further. He tosses his ruined shirt into a wastebasket and opens the first dresser drawer for another. Gone are the days when Terra used to stuff his clothes into a heap; Aqua likes to fold every single article, his on one side and hers on the other.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s fixable, I promise.” At least he hopes there’s some magic spell in some book somewhere that could lift ink out of cracks of wood.

He goes down one drawer for pants and it’s the same story.

Down to the middle for socks and underwear, each tightly rolled. Tucked into the back of this one are two newly purchased books, their hardcovers wrapped in plain paper so that anyone peeking in couldn’t read the titles. Edited with illustrations of anatomy, they are lectures of techniques on what to try with your partner. Where to place your hands, how to play with your fingers and tongues, how to listen, when to take it slow and when to take it fast...

“Here,” Aqua says from behind him. She has a wet rag. It’s warm as she gently rubs it into his skin, across the spread of his chest. Her other hand is splayed on his hip.

Just the thought of those books now, of slipping her out of that shirt, the stains on his stomach be damned—

“Am I going to get mad at you?”

Be damned. Terra smirks in a way to invite her to join along with him. “At both of us. But... You never stay too angry for too long so… Why worry about it?”

She pauses. “What are you rambling about?”

“Nothing.” He glances away. “It happened in the new classroom.”

She digs the rag into the groove above the diaphragm as if contemplating his vivisection. A stream of water drips over his belly button, into the hem of his pants, down the dips of his pelvis, between his inner thighs. Let her get mad. Be damned.

“How bad is it?” Her voice is hard.

He caresses the small of her back, which is right now tense and stretched as she makes herself seem taller, like she’s about to take him on. “You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” She opens her mouth to say something and he kisses the bottom lip. “I’ll do the dishes for three months. That’s enough atonement, right?”

Aqua clenches her teeth into a false smile, nails now leaving divots on his skin. “And the cooking.”

“Sounds fair.”

“And the gardening.”

“Now you’re pushing it.”

She continues to clean him, this time rubbing harder. It leaves his skin lightly raw. “You’re not in any position to bargain.”

“Do you expect me to beg?”

“Then beg.”

Terra would be lying if he says he doesn’t find this side of her hot. She’s a splash of freshwater that would bring him back from the brink. The woman standing in front of him chooses to clean him despite the shower being paces away. She’s the same girl who would plant an extra candle on his birthday cakes, for the year to come. To her, maybe it meant little or nothing. Stars, she’s beautiful, and he doesn’t say it enough.

“You’re doing better,” she says, leveling her voice, nodding to herself as if checking her information. That’s Aqua. Putting aside her annoyance for the sake of making sure he’s taken care of. “You’re not flinching as much.”

Maybe. Her touch is absolutely making the hairs on his neck stand. It is absolutely driving his dick insane. “You know, Ven’s okay with us.”

She stops. “He said something?”

“Kind of. He doesn’t want to know or see or hear anything.”

Her eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”

“He never said he actually heard anything.” He kisses her temple and lets it linger there, taking the opportunity to inhale her smell. Even when she sweats and spars for hours, there’s still a sweetness. Terra laughs into her hair. “He doesn’t want to know nicknames, either.”

Aqua flashes him a look.

“Now we have to,” says Terra. “We don’t have a choice.”

“What should we use?” Aqua moves to his abs, fighting an amused smile that’s twisting its way to her lips.

“Terr-able.”

“That one is awful. I think Terr-bear fits you better.”

“So you admit I’m big, strong, and scary?”

“I admit you’re adorable sometimes.”

Terra purses his lips. “What about you?”

She shrugs. “Maybe Aquamarine.”

“How about Aquafina?”

“That’s worse.”

“Babe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“We could call him Ven-tilation.”

“Stop.”

He follows his instinct to lower his head so when she laughs with him, their lips meet. They kiss everyday, but the first taste of the hour is always the one to discharge his breath, like he’s been underwater and she’s giving him the chance to surface.

“You’re going to get me dirty,” she says, giggling into his mouth.

He moves to her neck. “A little mess doesn’t hurt anybody.”

It’s when he brushes his fingers across her back, skating over the scar, coiled like rose thorns, that he hitches. Across from them is her vanity mirror. The scar is still red despite its age of twelve years. He’s so stupid.

“This again?” she whispers. She’s not upset but disappointed, though in him or in herself, he can’t tell. Moments like these are weird, when he can’t read what she’s thinking. Working on the straps on his left arm, she pulls off his gauntlet, finger by finger.

“I wish you would tell me,” he whispers back, as if having the conversation at a normal volume would shake them up.

She turns his bracer to make its removal easier. “I already did.”

“I wish you would be honest with me.” He leans his chin on her head, feeling her fingers slide down his arm.

“I am.” She flicks a knob and slips off the couter from his elbow. “You want me to tell you it was you who did this to me,” she continues, unbuckling the pauldron on his shoulder. “But it wasn’t.”

“I know better.”

“It was done with my hands.”

To that she says nothing, rubbing the rag down his exposed left bicep. Ink had run under the armor. Darkness seeps in even with protection.

She sighs. “Promise me you won’t obsess over it.”

He really shouldn’t but… he nods.

Aqua hesitates anyway. Taking him by the wrist, she presses his right hand on the rib under her left breast. “This one was his.” She warns with her eyes. “Not yours.”

Terra can’t feel anything through her shirt. He slips it under, running the pads of his fingers across the bumps and ridges. This one was his, this one with the gnarly tear right through the middle of the scar tissue, a ravine rupturing open. This one would have been done by that nameless silver Keyblade, with its sharp, ornate frills and that giant hook at the tip of it. It would have caught her skin as it tried to disconnect her body from her heart. And Terra? He’s had so much to lose and nothing to give back.

Terra holds his Aqua close as he continues to read the scar, how deep the hook sunk in, how she must have dodged back and broke that connection.

“Did it hurt?” he asks.

She sighs like she finds something amusing. Or trying to. She shudders, closing what little is left of the gaps between their bodies. “The Realm of Darkness numbs everything. I don’t think I felt it much.”

The view from their window looks over blossoming fields under mist, what’s left of snow capping just the mountaintops, everything else green. She’s lucky. So is he, ridiculously enough.

“I should have done more to stop it,” he says.

“You can’t continue to say things like that.” She swallows and stares at the wall. “What about the person I’ve become? I wouldn’t be here, standing in this room, now. It changed me. The Realm of Darkness did things to me that I’ll never be able to claim back. I will never be able to remedy it. I never wanted it, but I don’t know if I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.”

“I couldn’t make mistakes, in case I got hurt. I couldn’t be vulnerable. I had to be brave.”

“You already are.”

“And now I’m like stone.”

Terra presses his forehead to hers. “No, you’re not like stone at all.”

Aqua buries her face into his shoulder, anchoring herself to his waist. It’s so unlike her, to be unable to look him directly in the eyes. Whatever she has to say scares her. “You’re here, and I’m here. I give you my scars and you give me yours and… I don’t know if I would trade that for something else. For something that looks better on the outside. Every moment we shared since you woke up, how could I want to erase them? I need you, Terra. I have to chip away somehow. I’m braver now, to hold you like this.”

She says it like she has her chest cavity open, heart beating to open air.

She’s brave for not crying.

She’s brave for telling him what she can’t say right now. I’m braver now, to hold you like this. (I love you.)

He lifts her chin to kiss her. (I loved you first.)

She drops the rag to hold his face.

Before, their kisses were desperate, thirsty and famished, hoping to be found. Now, they’re deliberate, wandering but not lost. She tastes like sugar and flesh, her tongue inside with his, slow and careful. Their needs have more definition this time: please, and more, and yes, again.

Terra indulges in the impulse to press her onto him. She should feel how greedy he is, her chest arched against his. She’s soft and he’s in love.

“Where is Ven?” she says, breathless.

“Probably showering,” he mumbles.

She waves her hand and the door slams shut.

“I said probably,” Terra murmurs, but his mind turns off when she kisses him again. Who cares what Ven hears?

Aqua treads slower. She tempts Terra’s tongue to seek her out, puckering her lips around it and giving it a small tug.

“Touch me, please,” he begs.

The sound of his pants unbuttoning makes his heart hammer, his entire groin anticipating for what’s next. When, when, when. Terra closes his eyes. Her hand glides down, palm first, his breath snagging when she wraps her fingers around his erection. His pants are at his ankles, Aqua is on her knees, and she presses a kiss right under the tip, where it’s most sensitive, before licking the entire length. Terra buckles. He catches the dresser behind him to keep standing.

“Shhh,” she breathes onto him. It shoots a spark from his stomach to his scalp.

Terra braces his teeth with his finger to shut himself up. He watches her work. She takes him in bite-size pieces, snail-tracking with her tongue before her lips close in on him. Fuck. She sucks while she pulls. Fuck. To see her like this, Master Aqua with poise, with grace, with affection and care—with him in her mouth. The hand wrapped around him squeezes tighter, and the other comes up to meet him at the testicles.

He stifles another moan, staring at the ripples of the drywall, listening to the feathered tap of spring rain on the window and the noise she’s making. His erection twitches against the roof of her mouth, and he has to restrain himself from thrusting into her. Maybe he can let go and let be, finally throw himself off the cliff, ride the thrill all the way. Give it his all.

But he can’t. The moment gooseflesh spreads across his inner thighs, the moment he feels full, is the start. The floor will rip out from under him, the lights will go off, he will fall, he will lose all his fingers, he won’t remember anything, he’ll be the monster who makes her cry.

“I can’t,” he hisses, pushing her off. “I can’t.” He lurches over his knees, his insides twisting at the sudden cutoff, aching as it throbs and shrivels. He was so close. They were just laughing a few minutes ago. Stupid body, stupid mind. “Damn it,” he groans, pounding the dresser.

“Hey, you’re okay,” she says softly, holding him by the elbow. “You’re safe at home.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.” He digs his eyes into his palm, his body faraway like it’s a glass vial with his soul dumped inside. “Help me.”

Without letting him go, Aqua braces him with something cold—the rag, now on his lower back. It slaps him back to the bedroom, his beige carpet, the mist outside clearing out to a view of a forest that separates the castle from the mountains.

She greets him with a smile. “You really did something to yourself,” she says, cleaning him like it’s a lazy weekend day and there’s a list of chores.

Terra straightens up, shivers riding all the way up to his shoulders. “It’s so frustrating.”

“Don’t worry, Terra,” she says, softer and lower. “There’s no need to rush. I’ll wait.”

“But I’m tired of feeling caged up and stuck. I just want some semblance of control.”

Aqua kisses him on the shoulder to shoo away the haunting for a few seconds. “I’m here, anytime you need me. Would you like me to run you a bath?”

“No.” The rag is likely caked with ink, but its iciness is unlike the chill of clammy sweat a few seconds old. Every frigid touch is a reminder that he’s alive. “This is nice.”

Aqua runs the rag up his spine. “You know what I think? If we’re going to call each other pet names in front of Ven, we should have guests over.”

Terra snorts. “That’s evil.”

“He won’t be able to bark at us in front of other people.”

“I think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“I think you’re right.”

Terra sighs at her touch, cold at his neck, at his hairline. Like a light at the front porch in the dead of night, like hot tea on a sick day, she is what it feels like to come home.

She tells him, “Lean your head back a little,” and he obliges, letting her reach behind his ears. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, her hair frizzy, eyes blue and focused as she takes care of him.

“I can still kiss you, right?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Tilting his chin down, he does. He braids his fingers into hers; from the rag they’re like icicles, and he brings them to his heart.

They’re barely millimeters apart, but he’s still in that cage. If only he could be touched the way he needs. If only the lock trapping him inside the cage is brittle and easy to crumble. What if he tries to test it? What if he finds there is nothing at all? Stupid mind. What if there are several, each of them needing unique keys when he has none, no hope of ever knowing what real freedom is? Stupid body.

Should he pretend? Should he try over and over, to slam his head against the bars each time? Should he submit, should he accept he will never have what he wants?

Life has made him uneager to trust. But her lips have a deliciousness unmatched by anything he’s ever tasted, and he’s still a silly, stupid man.

“Let me try again,” he says, breathing deeply. “I want to make you feel good.”

She’s surprised. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“It will make me feel better.”

“...Okay,” she says so modestly. Terra never figured out how to knock it into her head that he wants to give her everything, that he is so, so guilty.

He invites her into an embrace, growing desperate the more he detaches his mind. Her body, the curve from her waist to her hips. The brush of her body against his reminds him that while he is naked, she is not. He picks her up by the thighs. Lost in the momentum of deep kisses, he carries her to bed, straddling her on his lap.

She hums. “The… the sheets.”

Dry, messy layers of ink still track down his legs. He groans into her mouth. She’s grinding him, and while he really likes that, it makes it incredibly difficult to take her clothes off, one hand rising the hem of her shirt and the other deep under her shorts, cupping her ass.

“Whatever, we can wash them later,” she says, lifting her arms up.

Her bare breasts—stars, this is what it feels like to come home.

“Kiss me,” she says, and he replies, nibbling down her neck, coming down to her breasts, where his lips and his tongue and his murmurs take in her nipples as they perk. Aqua stays quiet, leaning onto his shoulders.

There’s something about her amazing body, the silk of skin draped over defined muscle, treasure and tenderness in his hands, that he’s needy for. Every time he tries to define what that means, his mind ceases to function.

Xehanort tried to take it all away from him. If he lived, Terra would crush every tooth bloody. Damn him.

How dare Xehanort do this to him, lock him in this cage, keep him away from her? Damn him.

Why is he thinking about Xehanort?

“Are you okay?”

Terra is frozen, the nub of a nipple suctioned in his mouth. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He lets her breast go with a pop. “I’m redirecting.” Leading her to the mattress, Terra lowers himself into her arms, but he’s halted by a light kiss and a hold of his face.

“Do you need me to check in on you?” she asks.

“No.” He smiles, kissing her with all the hope that she psychically understands his body is about to burst open, if only from the lack of space for the appreciation he keeps nurturing for her. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”

She nods, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “You take your time.”

Oh, he will. No more interruptions. Focus on the smell of her skin, on the collarbone at the base of her neck. Right here, it makes her bite her lip. On the hollow between her breasts, the sound of her breath getting heavy. On the slight movement of her legs as she instinctively responds, spreading them, hooking around his. The buoyancy of her breasts in his mouth. The way she arches to push them against his face.

Under that left breast is the scar, tightly knitted.

The purpose for living is for memories, not reminders. Do not linger. Do not think about the cage. Terra lightly kisses it and continues downward.

Terra’s fingers glide down, a caress at the hips, a squeeze of her ass, running a mile of goosebumps as he bunches her shorts and panties and pulls them off. Her skin is streaked with fingerprints of gray, at most of the places he’s been. Aqua shivers as his lips brush the sides of her waist, as he traces his tongue and inhales the dips of her pelvis, as he loops his arms under her thighs, as he kisses her between the legs. She gasps. He licks from bottom to top, sucking on the clitoris once, then starts over.

Footsteps walk by outside their bedroom door.

Aqua jerks up. “Terra,” she whispers, warning him.

“Hm?” Stars, what now? “Here.” He grabs the comforter and throws it over her head. She chuckles as she wraps both of them in hiding. “Relax,” he whispers back. “He’s not going to hear anything.” Not that Ven opts to stay; his footsteps are already fading away.

He goes back to work, and hears her sigh—it’s loud enough to make him look up but too hushed to escape the sheets. Bottom to top. Again. Again. She cloaks the sound of her moans with the comforter plastered on her face.

It’s her taste. It’s the softness and suppleness of the skin between her legs. The way she fastens her knees over his shoulders, how wet she is. Her reaction. When he tongues the inside of her slit, she jerks, chewing her lip hard enough to make it white. Master Aqua, with poise and grace, for her there’s only love and the way his tongue curls up.

Her fist crumples the sheet—it holds her own breast, caresses her stomach down to rake through his hair and hold him there.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes.

Stars, that did it. He’s hard again. He drapes his arms over her pelvis, using his fingers to open her up so he has more access to her clit. She bucks, and he holds her down.

Her entire body trembles: the first sign that she’s running off her own edge.

Terra strokes her, the outside lips, the tease inside, the puckering motions. She’s a sweet, musky taste he can’t compare to anything else.

Aqua throws herself back on the pillow. Her thighs crush his head, and she clamps her hand on her mouth like a topper. Her mewl shudders and stops, it heaves, it mumbles. The wave rises then crashes, and she finishes with a long sigh, a release, a settlement, a tempered peace.

It feels so good to listen to her. Terra rests his head on her hip and brings a hand to his erection. A little bit of freedom paid with a little bit of control.

“I’m ready,” he says. “I need you.”

She hums in contentment, fixing the comforter so they’re completely covered and opening her arms to him. “Come here.”

Terra crawls over her, bracketing her body like he’s a fort, tethering her fingers to his and cradling her head in a protective halo with his arms. Aqua has to spread her legs wide to take on his thick waist, and she breaks her kisses with whimpers when he enters—she’s always more sensitive after he goes down on her.

She’s warm and tight, oh stars. Massaging him as he moves inside her. Their bodies compress into each other, hers curled up to mold against the way he rocks his hips, as though the subtle air between would have split them up too far, as though he can melt into her when he pushes, their hearts only separated by muscle and bone. He plants a messy kiss on her cheek, exhaling and inhaling in rhythms opposite of hers, her breath loud against his ear, tickling his neck.

Here it comes again, the oncoming of the precipice where he has to step off.

Fuck.

He can’t do it.

At the sprint towards the edge of the cliff, he skids and scrambles to hang by the rockface. Terra grunts, all his muscles seizing up as he holds his breath.

Aqua strokes his hair. “Do you want to stop?”

Of course not. “Give me a minute.”

“Remember, you’re safe.”

Terra nearly chokes. “I’m scared of losing control.”

“You won’t. You’re in control.”

In control. The intent to wring his fingers through the bars, a sleight of hand to balance the padlock like it’s on strings, turning it over and pulling it out of the latch. But Terra is no escape artist.

Terra licks his lips. He’s not in danger. He should trust she’ll catch him when he falls. In her arms, there’s no safer place to be. He has to remember this. Shut that mind up.

“I want to continue.”

She rubs his back. It’s soothing. “Tell me what you need.”

Terra smirks. “To get back in the mood.” He takes one deep kiss. “Entice me.”

Her insides squeeze him and he trembles. “How is that?” she asks.

“Do it again.”

She wraps her ankles over his back and squeezes. He hums into her shoulder.

“Again.”

This time, she takes back her kiss.

“Don’t let me go,” he says, and she hugs him tightly.

He starts slow. Terra leans on his elbows, bunching the comforter in his fist so it stays in place. She looks at him with half-lidded eyes, a healthy red blush, her mouth gently open, cast in the filtered glow of a secret, sweaty cocoon. This body he’s thrusting into, the lips he’s kissing, may the stars bless her.

“Aqua.”

“You feel so good.”

She stole the words right out of his mouth, squeezing his hips again.

“Oh,” he moans. It provokes him to thrust harder, deeper, feel her, feel her breasts bouncing under him, feel her moans coming from her throat, the desperation in the way she squirms with her hands. She massages his slick back, her nails digging in.

There.

Let him throw himself off. Give it his all.

“Don’t let me go,” he repeats.

“I won’t.”

He throws himself off. It’s not the wind thrashing him all the way down. Instead it’s fire, a combustion of flames in his muscles as his entire body submits to its force, leaving his knees weak. A flash of white that blurs everything he sees, a hurricane that knocks his mind into a stupor, a delicious burn that slicks over his body, trickling embers on top of sweat, hot and cool, good and better, good and fucking good. Terra shoves his face into her shoulder to muffle the sounds of groans escaping him, shuddering as the climax picks up again, a body alight in an ignition that throws him out of any awareness.

His eyes prick when he finally remembers where he is. Aqua is safeguarding him with a strong hold, keeping him in place with her. He sighs. The cinders that continue to radiate heat leave him with a hearth to wrap himself into, a happiness that he never thought he would ever feel again.

Aqua sniffs. She wipes tears onto his shoulder.

“We really should stop crying at these things,” he says.

She snorts, refusing to let her grip on him slack. “You did amazing. How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” he mumbles. Stars, wow. His arms can’t pick him up anymore but it’s a gratifying cloud to ride. He shifts his legs, alleviating the weight of his body. “A little weak.”

She runs a hand on the back of his head, coaxing him to rest on her chest. “When did you know?” she asks, brushing hair off his damp forehead. “That you wanted to kiss me? You must have spent some time thinking about it before it happened.”

Terra smiles into her chest. Somehow, they’ve never talked about it. “Long after I knew I was going to marry you.”

He feels her laugh. “Is that so? I’m going to marry you?”

“You will.” He looks up at her grinning face. “I can see the future.”

She scoffs. “You can see my eyes rolling at you.”

“I knew before you did.”

“Prove it.”

“I was seven.”

“You’re older than me, that doesn’t count.”

“You asked me to have a tea party with you, but the one thing that bothered you most”—he brings up his hand, pinky out—“was that I wasn’t drinking my tea right.” He mimics the high pitch of a little girl’s voice. “Pinky out. Pinky out, Terra, don’t be a slob.”

She gapes. “I don’t remember any of that.”

With renewed will, he props himself up, leaning close so their noses touch. “I knew then. That early on.”

“Since when is this a competition?”

“Still the first to know.”

Aqua interrupts what she’s about to say, like she’s about to step into cold water. She’s having an epiphany. Vulnerable again, like she’s allowing him to cut her right down the middle.

“I love you.”

She says it like the touch of a high note on a piano, a beautiful accident.

He leans closer, lips to lips, whispering, “I still got there first.”

She laughs into him. “I suppose, but I was the first to say it.”

“Then I’ll be the second,” Terra says. Like coming home, a shelter to withstand the downpour, that births life to the roots, that thunders, that opens for a clear day, he brushes her hair out of her eyes. “I love you.”

“Too,” she corrects. “You love me, too.”

A knock on their door jolts them, like a hard punch to the stomach.

“Okay, Terra,” Ven says from the other side. “I thought about it and I’m trying out this knocking thing.”

Wrong timing. Wrong timing.

“I’m going to kill him,” Terra hisses, and against Aqua’s hushed chuckles, he throws the comforter off their bodies and announces, “Ven, we’re naked.”

The silence that comes after is as loud as the crash of a chandelier. Terra can feel Ven recoil, a tea pot at the verge of whistling. “I didn’t need to know that!” Terra is about to reply but Ven groans dramatically. “I AM NEVER GOING TO KNOCK ON YOUR DOOR AGAIN.”

Ven stomps away, and if the door was actually open, he’d slam it.

Terra sits on his knees, pinching his nose. It’s hot in this room. He feels clogged again, back at the edge of the cliff. He wants to strangle Ven for dragging the moment away from him. “Great, I pissed him off.”

“Poor Ven.” When she sits up, Terra pulls her to him, sitting her on one of his thighs. “I can’t predict if he’ll ever get over that,” she says, balancing herself by hooking her arms around his neck.

Terra presses his lips to her ear, whispering, “But I did predict that you wouldn’t stay mad at me for long.”

She slaps his bicep. “I haven’t seen what you’ve done yet. Don’t be so proud of yourself.”

“But I am.”

“You’re still a slob.”

Slobby as he is, Aqua hugs him dearly. Hold her, you never know when the dream will end. You never know when the cage takes you back.

“I don’t know if,” Terra says, “it will be difficult for me next time.”

“Then it may be difficult,” Aqua says, kissing his forehead. “But it will be okay.”

Hold her. Not passively. Not half-minded. Hold her tightly. Hold her in the quiet, undisturbed, uninterrupted.

A drop of hot liquid spills from between her legs and drips down his thigh, almost burning. When Terra looks down to see that it’s white, Aqua jumps.

“Oh,” she squeaks.

“Oh. That would be me.”

She squeals, hiding her blush. “I’m going to wash up.”

“Such a slob.”

Aqua giggles, looking him in the eye when she rubs his chest. “Come with me?”

“Go ahead.” He kisses her. “I’ll catch up.”

If anyone told him twelve years ago that hope feels like a long day full of small conversations, the anticipation of cleaning a messy room, Terra would have considered that cynical. A sarcastic joke, the loss of the will to dream.

Twelve years later, it’s the sound of the shower running that teaches him to look forward to the next day, when he wakes up next to her, when he prepares dinner with her, when he kisses her in the middle of the night and play all over again. Peace is a long-distance acquaintance, a pen pal that urges you to look at your day like a spectacle.

Terra leans back to twist the latch of the window open, letting the spring haze billow in. Much better, the room is cooler now. The sky is bluer somehow, the mountains as grand as a painting.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #terraqua day #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #smut #lemon #AHHHHHHHHH #it's finally here #i am so fucking nervous #my fic

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seanfalco · 4 years ago

Text

Still Here | Duncan Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k Prompt: running hands thru hair + running your finger down their spine + sharing secrets + morning kisses Requested by: @gurlimtired & anonymous a/n: Follows Jealous. These were actually two sets of prompts that I decided to combine bc they fit so well together for what I already had planned for this next installment. Warning(s): Smut, Oral (f & m receiving)

——

It had been a couple days since your near death experience and though the lead medical officer had cleared you for duty, whispers seemed to follow you, and you had to admit, it was getting on your nerves.

Not only was the station small enough as it was for news to travel fast, but nothing even relatively as exciting had happened in a while, so you were the hot news. Luckily there was at least one person you could trust to act normal, well, as normal as he could be, around you.

Ever since his daring rescue and that passionate kiss you’d shared after, Duncan had been back to his usual flirtatious snark, and thankfully only with you. Though you had to admit it was obvious now, to you at least, that there were feelings there -- on both sides, even if neither of you wanted to admit it just yet. You just weren’t sure how deep they went, and while part of you wanted to chase them down the rabbit hole with abandon, the logical side kept nagging you, telling you to stop.

If you’re not careful you’re gunna get slapped with a fraternization warning and possibly get yourself reassigned. Is he worth that?

Maybe not, but you wanted him anyway.

And once you admitted that to yourself there was no stopping you. Gripped with impulsiveness, you found yourself hurrying through the station’s halls, searching for the insufferable Englishman that you couldn’t get off your mind.

“Ah [y/n], there you are,” he exclaimed jovially as you found him at his desk, a game controller in his hand. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps you need my assistance with something?” he continued, a hopeful grin appearing on his face.

Leaning atop his monitor you flashed him a sly smirk of your own, enjoying being the one to initiate the flirting for once.

“Actually, it was something I was thinking I could help you with,” you said innocently, in direct opposition to your coy expression.

“Oh?” Duncan asked, his brows rising as he sat forward in his chair. “You certainly have my attention,” he exclaimed, pushing his seat back and dropping his controller.

“Good,” you quipped, pushing off his computer. “Meet me in ten?” you said, lowering your voice and giving him a meaningful look.

You didn’t have to tell him where to meet you, he already knew.

And as soon as he shut the storage room door behind him your mouth was on his, your hands tangling in the soft fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer and Duncan moaned into your mouth, surprised at your tenacity.

“Well, that’s a warm welcome,” he exclaimed breathlessly, his breath catching further as you untied the sleeves of his jumpsuit knotted at his waist, your hand reaching into his boxer briefs to palm his swiftly growing erection.

“Not that I am complaining in th’slightest, luv, but what’s gotten into you?” he gasped, pressing his back to the door to stabilize himself as your lips left his, quirking into a mischievous grin as you knelt before him.

Looking up at him, his cock in your hand, your grin grew.

“Just wanted to thank you for saving my life th’other day,” you murmured, licking a broad swipe up his shaft from his base and feeling him shudder beneath you before teasingly circling his head with your tongue, his mouth falling open.

“I would say y’don’t need t’thank me, but— oh fuck— on second thought,” he gasped, his voice slightly strangled as you wrapped your lips around him, taking him into your mouth as far as you could before the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat, drawing a heavy groan from him.

Pulling his cock from your mouth, you glanced up at him sharply. “You’re gunna hafta be quiet if you wanna cum, D,” you exclaimed, repeating his own words back to him from your first illicit fuck in the locker room, and Duncan huffed a laugh.

“Cheeky little slut aren’t you?” he muttered, tangling his hand in your hair, swiftly turning the tables on you and once more taking control, but you let him fuck your mouth, because ultimately that was what you’d wanted when you’d led him there.

By the time he’d finished, coming in your mouth with a soft whine, his seed pumping down your throat, your cunt was aching, your knickers no doubt soaked through, but when Duncan attempted to unzip your jumpsuit to repay the favour, you took his hand and shook your head as you rose to your feet.

“No, this was about you,” you insisted, “besides, we need to get back to our posts, Duncan,” you murmured, though you didn’t know how you expected yourself to be able to focus on work when you were this turned on.

At your words his eyebrows shot up in disbelief and he pulled you against him. “Y’sure?”

When you nodded, he frowned slightly before shrugging, pressing a kiss to your lips.

The rest of the day was torture and while Duncan looked relaxed as could be as he worked behind you, the kind of relaxation you feel post release, you on the other hand couldn’t stop thinking about slipping away to the bathroom to rub one out, too distracted to get much work done.

——

You hadn’t noticed when Duncan had left and you gave a start as you finally finished working, spinning your chair to find his empty.

“Well, that’s just lovely,” you muttered under your breath as you rubbed at your weary eyes, grainy from staring at your monitor for so long. You’d thought things were different now after what you’d been through together, but he seemed rather content to just accept your blowjob and then disappear.

You were the one to refuse when he’d offered to repay your favour, remember?

Yeah, well, maybe you were just a fool—

When your computer gave a little ding, you frowned, turning back to it, wondering who was messaging you.

“I have something for you.”

You frowned at the unfamiliar IP address, confused for a moment before a second IM appeared on your screen.

“You know where to meet me.”

Duncan.

Without really thinking, you shut off your computer and stood, slipping down the hall in the opposite direction of the crew quarters, instead heading back for your secret little storage compartment rendezvous, wondering what Duncan was up to.

When the door slid open you didn’t see him at first and you frowned. Maybe you’d misinterpreted the message.

“Duncan?” you called softly, glancing around.

“Back here,” came his reply and you followed his voice, ducking beneath the shelf half hidden by a row of storage containers.

On the other side, hidden from the door you found him waiting. He’d set up a small portable mattress and you cocked an eyebrow at the sight.

“What’s this then?” you asked, biting back a grin as Duncan stood, pulling you closer.

“What’s it look like, luv? Don’t tell me you’re that daft,” he teased, leaning in to kiss you.

“Where did you even find a spare mattress? How did you get it here unnoticed?”

“I have my ways,” he murmured mysteriously, grinning against your lips. “Now, why don’t you take off that garish jumpsuit so I can thank you properly for earlier?”

“Duncan—“ you protested, but he was already easing your zipper down, his mouth moving down your neck, coaxing forth a soft moan.

“I could see how uncomfortable you were all day, you must have really been turned on from sucking my cock. And I hafta tell you, I’m kinda touched you’d put yourself through all that just for my sake,” he murmured, sliding your uniform from your shoulders and working it down your hips til it fell in a pile around your ankles.

As he nipped at your throat his hands wandered, divesting you of your bra before sliding down the front of your panties to feel how wet you still were.

“Ooh, I was right,” he mused, helping you step out of the clothes at your feet and lowering you to the mattress, crouching to untie your boots and remove them as well, pausing to kiss each of your ankles.

“Are you gunna undress as well, Taylor?” you asked, pushing yourself up to your elbows as you watched him, anticipation coursing through you.

“If that’s what you want, luv. Can’t get enough of my body, huh?” he chuckled smugly while you rolled your eyes, but that didn’t stop you from watching him undress before crawling back over you.

“Now, say please,” he instructed, his fingers skimming over you as he held your gaze and you stared back defiantly.

Oh, you wanted him to ruin you alright, but you didn’t want to give in the moment he said ‘jump’.

“Why don’t you make me,” you purred, made bolder by the hunger behind his eyes.

“Mmm, it doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. I’ve already had my release, I can wait all night, but you…” he trailed off with a smirk and a cock of his head, his fingers lightly trailing down the crotch of your soaked panties and over your clothed sex, his grin growing as you shuddered at his touch.

“I dunno, it looks like you may be getting a little excited again, yourself,” you pointed out, your gaze flicking to the growing bulge in his underwear.

Clearing his throat, Duncan shrugged, pulling back. “All I asked for was one little word, but if you want to play hard to get, princess…”

Panicking, you reached for him— “Please!”

At your exclamation he stopped, a roguish grin splitting his face.

“See, that wasn’t hard, now was it?” he mused, surging forward to claim your lips in an almost bruising kiss as he yanked your panties down and tossed them away.

This time when he pulled back you let him, watching him part your legs and settle between them as he wet his lips.

“Now it’s my turn t’return the favour,” Duncan murmured and you gasped as he kissed your mound, his tongue delving your folds almost eagerly.

“Ohhh, Duncan,” you sighed, letting your head fall back as his tongue moved against you, warm and wet and insistent.

“That’s right, sweetheart, let me hear how much you like it,” he murmured, lifting his face just enough to glance up at you. “Bury those lovely fingers in my hair,” he instructed and you obeyed, giving his wild curls an experimental tug, enjoying the deep moan that rumbled in his throat as he devoured your cunt.

This was the first time Duncan had gone down on you, and what he lacked in precision, he certainly made up for with fervor. You’d never had anyone eat you out like this before, and before you knew it you were arching into your orgasm, desperately pressing your cunt against his face for even just a little bit more friction, a soft whine escaping your lips as you held back the rest of your cries.

“Oh, my God,” you panted, twitching at the wet kiss Duncan pressed to the inside of your thigh before climbing atop you, kissing his way back up.

“Oh luv, you taste so sweet, I almost didn’t wanna stop,” he murmured, pausing at your breast to flick his tongue against your peaked nipple, causing another jerk.

“Thank you,” you breathed before he finally kissed you, and you moaned, tasting your own essence on his lips.

“Oh, you’re very welcome, pet, but I’m not done with you yet,” he drawled, sending a shiver through you.

By the time he’d made you come again, pounding you into the tiny mattress, you were completely spent and blissfully satisfied. It had been several weeks since your last shag and you hadn’t realized how pent up you’d been since then. How much you’d missed Duncan’s cock.

“How d’you feel, luv?” Duncan asked, rolling toward you to scoop you into his arms and you let him hold you against his chest, his long legs curling around your prone form.

“Exhausted,” you answered, unable to keep the sleepy grin from your face as you glanced over your shoulder at him, your eyes flicking to his. “You fuck me so good, D,” you murmured, snuggling closer, pulling his arms tighter around your waist. “You’re so rough.”

“You like it,” he pointed out with a soft chuckle, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he nuzzled into your hair.

“Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but you’re awful soft now,” you pointed out, somewhat surprised at the tenderness he was showing you.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty beat, myself,” he huffed and you didn’t press him, instead letting your eyes droop shut in his embrace.

——

“[y/n]?” Duncan asked, not having felt her stir for some time. Breathing deeply, he lost himself in the smell of her shampoo that yet clung to her, mingling with the heavy scent of sex permeating the small room as he reached up to run his fingers through her hair, letting them trail down her neck and spine before planting his lips to the base of her neck.

“How are you so bloody addicting?” he murmured, mostly to himself and she moaned softly, arching against him at his touch, her soft skin against his maddening and soothing all at once.

He’d never imagined their little rivalry, all their flirting, their playful and not so playful spats would have ended up here, her half asleep in his arms, blissfully fucked out with no intention of running off like she had last time.

What was this feeling tangling his stomach in knots?

It had been building since their first encounter, exacerbated during their time apart til all he could think about was her and trying to get her back, nearly driving him crazy.

You could’ve just talked to her, told her how you feel.

How did he feel?

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d opened his mouth, the words tumbling out softly against her hair.

“[y/n], there’s somethin’ I have to tell you,” he said and she hummed softly in response.

Suddenly tension filled him, but something else compelled him to speak, the words almost coming on their own.

“I’ve been approached by someone to do something, something that could make me a whole lot of fucking money,” he murmured, hesitating. “And I wanna tell you about it, maybe even let you in on it, but it could cause trouble, and I… I dunno how you'd even feel about it—“

Duncan stopped abruptly, letting out a heavy breath as he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d said too much, he’d— [y/n] let out a soft snore and he pushed himself up to look down at her. She was asleep. She’d been asleep this whole time.

Duncan sighed. Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know. Maybe he’d keep it that way until he knew he could trust her.

He wanted to trust her.

But could he afford to?

Shaking his head he settled back down next to her, letting his eyes slide shut. He didn’t want to think about it any longer. For now, he could be content with this. Whatever this was.

——

It was still dark when you opened your eyes and it took you a second to remember where you were, your surroundings initially unfamiliar. It wasn’t until you realized Duncan was asleep draped over your chest that you remembered the events from the night before, the pleasant ache between your thighs still there and you stretched, Duncan stirring against you.

“Did we—?”

“Sleep together? Obviously,” Duncan supplied, cracking an eye to peer up at you from where his cheek rested against your chest, “hasn’t been the first time either doll, or have you already blocked those times from your memory?” he continued wryly, and you found yourself idly stroking his back, tracing circles against his warm skin, pulling a soft groan from him.

“No, you arse,” you muttered, “I meant… you’re still here,” you pointed out softly and Duncan tensed in your arms. He’d fallen asleep with you.

“I wouldn’t over analyze it, luv,” he murmured quickly, closing his eyes as he settled against you once more. “I was… exhausted and you were comfortable, that’s all.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” you mused, faintly teasing, as you paused to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “But I don’t believe you,” you finished, your hand once more returning to his back.

“Believe whatever you like, darling,” he drawled, sleep heavy in his voice, “but this doesn’t mean anything.”

Despite his words, the fact that he hadn’t just left after the deed was done spoke volumes and the soft smile on his face as he laid atop you now was all the confirmation you needed. He could protest as much as he liked that this was just sex and nothing more, but you knew better, you could feel it— something had definitely changed in him.

“Oh, really?” you pressed, not ready to let it go, wanting to hear him say it.

“Yes, really,” he huffed, pushing himself up, but before he could say any more you pulled his face to yours, pressing your lips to his softly.

His words melted into a soft moan and he kissed you back, slow and thoroughly. You were briefly aware of your morning breath, but you were past caring, pulling Duncan closer.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” you admitted softly when he finally broke the kiss, your gaze finding his in the dark and he cleared his throat.

“Me too.”

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

Everything Tag/Duncan Tag: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @slutforrobbiebro @seancekitsch

#geostorm fic #duncan taylor #duncan taylor x reader #duncan taylor smut #robert sheehan character fic #valentine's drabbles 2021 #my writing #prompt request #anonymous #gurlimtired

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 4 years ago

Note

Wait, marriage angst?? What is your idea?? TELL US!!??

I’ll do you one better. I’ll WRITE it for you!

Kohga was bored. Really, really bored. His men were doing his bidding, as per usual, and for some reason, Kohga wasn’t tired enough for a nap. That left him with only so much to do. He was stuck in his own bed, when he sat up, realizing he knew what he could do. He could sneak into Sooga’s room, and make himself into a sexy little surprise for him. He was coming soon from fishing with Sidon anyway (Sooga and Sidon grew to be quite the good set of friends). He got out of his room, and snuck into Sooga’s, giddy as all hell for what he had planned.

“Alright, where does he keep the lube...god it’s like his room is in alphabetical order.”

Neat as hell, Sooga’s room. He dug into his drawers, and finally found the bottle he was looking for. He was about to get into his bed, when he accidentally dropped one of Sooga’s uniforms. He grumbled a bit before leaning down to pick it up, just in time to see a small, black box pop out. Sooga picked it up, looking it over in his hands. Huh. Well, Sooga’s stuff was HIS stuff, might as well take a peak. He wished he hadn’t.

It was a ring. The most beautiful, most stunning ring he’d ever seen in his entire life. Decorated in every type of gem under the sun, this could NOT have been cheap. He chuckled, finding it cute. Only, it clicked a second later.

Sooga was going to ask to marry him. Oh no. Oh no. No no no no no, a MILLION times no. He stammered, and with shaky hands, fixed everything up, making it look like he was never even there. He darted out of the room, totally ignoring everyone who tried to acknowledge him. He had to do something. Anything.

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

“Move.”

Sooga had come back from his fishing trip with Sidon, and had a gift for Kohga, right from Mipha herself. The blade master that was in charge of Kohga’s door, stayed put, shaking his head.

“Master Kohga said no one is allowed in. He’s talking with his bodyguard.”

Sooga cocked his head to the side, confused. HE was Kohga’s bodyguard, as well as his lover. That couldn’t be right.

“I’M his bodyguard, in case you’ve forgotten. Now, move.”

The blade master didn’t, shaking his head.

“Sorry Sooga. Looks like you’ve been replaced.”

That voice wasn’t taunting as usual. It was...cold, to the point. He meant what he said. He was about to press for more details, when a blade master walked out of the room, with Kohga following just behind him. A Blade Master...had been in his master’s room. This was serious. Kohga did NOT look happy to see him. If anything, he looked uncomfortable. Sooga knelt down a bit to his level, still holding the package in his hands.

“Master Kohga! Are you feeling well?”

Kohga wouldn’t look at him. He spoke, but towards the air, not towards him.

“I’m fine. Look, Sooga, you need a break. Why don’t you just. Go?”

“Go?...like, I’m being kicked out?”

Kohga finally looked up at him, in panic.

“No! No, not at all. I just...don’t want you around for a bit. Go fish or hunt or whatever you do. Just, go. Cil’s gonna take care of me for a while.”

The Blade master in front of him nodded, taking the package off of Sooga’s hands.

“Don’t worry. I will take great care of Master Kohga in your place, Sooga.”

Sooga stammered, before looking back at Kohga.

“M-master Kohga, please, I-”

Kohga pointed to the other direction, a snarl in his voice.

“I. Said. Go. Leave. That is a COMMAND.”

There was an awkward silence, before Kohga grumbled angrily.

“Cil, make sure he leaves. I’m...gonna take a nap.”

Kohga walked into his room, slamming the door. Cil looked down at him, and motioned towards to base’s entrance.

“Come on, you heard him. Out you go.”

Sooga slowly stood up, looking at his shaky palms.

“What...did I do?...”

Cil chuckled, shaking his head.

“Don’t know, don’t care. All I know is, you blew it, and now I’M in his good graces. Who knows if he’ll even remember you after he gets to know me.”

Sooga put his hands on his blade, when the other blade master put his hand on his chest.

“You know how this works. Kohga makes the orders, you obey. Until he says otherwise, you are NOT to be here. Please leave with dignity, Sooga.”

Sooga halted a moment, before turning around, and leaving. He understood not what was happening. What he DID know was that a command from Kohga WAS a command, even if it hurt him, deep inside his heart.

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

“This was SUCH a nice idea Link!”

Mipha lightly clapped her hands together. Link had suggested that Mipha, Impa, Zelda, and himself go camping. Mipha wasn’t a real outdoorsy type like her boyfriend, but so long as she was with him, she was having a grand ol time. Impa nodded, getting a blanket for the princess (as to not scuff her pretty clothes).

“I gotta agree. Though, I could go with some food that isn’t JUST apples.”

Link took the hint, and just so happened to spot a deer in the distance. He forced everyone into silence, and was about to fire with his bow and arrow, when suddenly the deer went down. Link cocked his head to the side, only to see the assailant was none other than Sooga. He hoisted the deer over his shoulder, only to catch Link’s gaze.

“Link?”

Mipha looked past the brush, and waved at Sooga.

“Sooga! It’s a pleasure! Out on a date with Kohga?”

Sooga shook his head, walking towards their little camp.

“Afraid not. I’m by myself today. Would you all like to share this?”

Upon everyone seeming satisfied with that idea, and Sooga had no issues skinning and hacking away at the animal, even going so far as to put the meat right over the fire. Mipha, ever the mindful one, seemed to catch that Sooga was...distracted.

"Sooga? Where...IS Kogha?"

"At the clan. He...told me to go hunting for some reason. Nothing to worry about."

"What makes you think I'm worried?"

"I can see it all over your face."

Sooga wanted to clearly not touch on it, but as soon as Mipha put her hand onto his, he conceded defeat. Big muscles did nothing against a big heart.

"I've...been replaced, it seems. Master Kohga no longer requires my services."

NO ONE was expecting that clearly. Though no one also didn’t expect IMPA to have the reaction she had.

"Kohga? Replaced YOU? That UNGRATEFUL- how DARE he? You're the only one who puts up with him and he REPLACED you? What's the new guys name?"

"Cil."

"Oh that's even a stupid name- princess cover your royal ears, I'm about to NOT be lady like!"

Impa wasn't exactly protective of Sooga, but she did value loyalty, and she knew what it was like to be a devoted servant. She HATED the idea of someone using their servants as mere tools, rather than close companions. Zelda held her hand up, signaling Impa to calm down.

"Sooga, would you care to explain what you mean? This seems VERY unlike you and Kohga. Are you sure this isn't a misunderstanding?"

Sooga nodded solemnly, having lost that hope for quite some time.

“It is not. Master Kohga told me to leave, and a new blade master has taken my stead. I’ve been here ever since.”

Impa, hands on her hips, was more furious than ever, hands on her hips.

“How long have you BEEN out here?”

“Four days, I believe.”

“Four d-oh that is IT! I’m going there to give him a piece of my mind!”

She tried to stomp away, before Sooga grabbed at her hair, making her fall to the dirt. She looked up at him, wiping her face free from the muk.

“What was that-”

“No one is to harm Master Kohga, so long as I can help it.”

“How are you still defending him?!”

Impa got up in his face, and he refused to look away from the cooking meat. He was not scared of ANY sheikah, let alone one so young and foolish.

“Because he is my Master, till the day I die. I love him. That’s all there is to it.”

Mipha butted in, suspecting a fight.

“Why don’t I go talk to him? We’re friends, I’m sure he just needs someone to hear him out. For all we know, this is truly just a mistake.”

Mipha placed her hand on Sooga’s knee, and he felt himself relaxing under her touch. She was truly a very sweet little zora.

“If...it is not a burden, I would appreciate that. Very, very much.”

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

“Mipha! If it isn’t my favorite little fishy! How have you been?”

Mipha graced him with a surprise visit, and with the whole Sooga situation, he welcomed it. She smiled at him, embracing him in a tight embrace.

“I’m quite well, quite well! Did you receive the last gift I sent you?”

“I did! Let me tell you, I’m saving that outfit next time I visit the rito village!”

She chuckled, walking alongside him as they walked to Kohga’s ‘guest room’ (aka just an extra room with a small dining table). She sat down next to him, and Kohga was clearly eager to hear her speak.

“So! What brings you over? Just wanted to visit the studliest guy you know?”

“That as well. But I do in fact, need a favor.”

“Name it, lil’ red.”

“Well, we’ve been studying the properties of electric resistant materials. We have the electric darners and the like, but we would appreciate some voltfruit. Two crates, if possible.”

“Done! Cil!”

The blade master walked to his side, bowing respectfully.

“Yes, Master Kohga.”

“Have the boys get two crates of voltfruit ready for her, and have a few blade masters on standby to carry it for her, I don’t want her to lift a finger.”

“Right away, Master Kohga. Shall I fetch you some snacks as well?”

“Yeah, whatever you guys got. And tea, they know which one Mipha likes.”

“Anything else, Master Kohga?”

“No, that’s it.”

Kohga smacked his cheek a bit, and Cil backed away, practically giddy. Mipha decided now was as good of a time as ever.

“So...he’s new.”

“Oh yeah. Nice guy. Super attentive. Almost annoying, honestly. But he does his job.”

“What of Sooga?”

Kohga halted. He refused to fully acknowledge it, until he sighed.

“I...don’t wanna talk about it. But I do, I guess. I...I dunno.”

Mipha reached over to hold his hand, offering him a soft, sweet smile.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I will not force your hand. However, I do think you’ll feel much better if you talk about it. You helped me and Link. Let me help you and Sooga.”

Kohga stopped, before softly sighing. He exchanged the grip on her hand, clearly needing the physical support.

“I...went into Sooga’s room. And...I found a ring. Sooga wanted to propose to me.”

Mipha’s face lit up, just how he knew she would.

“Oh! How lovely! Was...the ring not enough?”

“No, not at all. It was stunning, really. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“So...the issue lies where?”

He looked over at her puzzled face. His next words clearly surprised her.

“I don’t want to marry him.”

Mipha covered her mouth with her other hand.

“But, don’t you love him?”

“I do!”

Kohga took his hand away, using it as a means to help him talk.

“I love him! A LOT! He’s the most serious relationship that I’ve ever been in! He’s sweet, he’s handsome, he’s caring, he KNOWS me! I love him half to death! I just-”

He stopped, scratching like hell at his head. How to explain this? How to translate this to someone as sweet and pure as her.

He groaned, letting his face thunk onto the counter.

“I don’t want to commit. I don’t want to be stuck into something I can’t get out of. I don’t want this to be a thing that keeps me from doing things I like. What if he ends up not being the one? What if once we get married, he changes? Turns stifling, or wants KIDS? God what if he wants KIDS, Mipha?! I’m the cool gay uncle, not a dad!”

Mipha didn’t seem to get it fully. Of course she didn’t. But like everything she did, she tried very hard to help the wounded. She leaned over and placed her hand at his cheek. He met her eyes, her soft, kind gaze.

“Kohga. I do not fully understand not wanting to be wed. I’ve wanted to be wed since I was a guppy. But I do understand that this is a lot for you to take in. However, I want you to understand that you are not the only one hurt. Sooga has been out in the woods, awaiting you and hunting.”

“Oh my god he ACTUALLY went hunting- I was fucking with him.”

Mipha softly chuckled, shaking her head.

“I know. However, this relationship isn’t just you. It’s Sooga. You aren’t going to like this, but you need to apologize to him. You pushed him away with no explanation, no reasoning. Pain is worse when it is unwarranted. Please, say you’ll talk to him and ask for his forgiveness. He is devoted to you. He deserves to at least have that respect.”

“....Yeah. Yeah, you might have a point, Mipha.”

“I’d like to think so. Would you like to finish tea time before we get Sooga?”

“...Yeah, honestly. Better swallow this before I swallow my pride.”

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

“Anything from Mipha yet?”

Link shook his head, not seeing a message from her on the sheikah slate yet. Impa had just finished hearing the whole situation from Sooga’s end, and she seemed to get more and more steamed as the story went on. By the time he finished, she stood up, hands on her hips.

“I know your problem!”

“Pardon?”

“I know your problem! He’s lost respect for you!”

Sooga wasn’t getting this, and neither did anyone else it seemed. Impa leaned down to look him in his face, jabbing her finger in his chest.

“You need to show him you’re strong, confident! You need to go over there and DEMAND a reason!”

“But...I’ve been kicked out of the clan. It is against the rules to-”

“Is your love for Kohga NOT above the rules?!”

Sooga blinked. She...had a real good point, actually. He thought about it for a second, before firmly nodding.

“You’re right. The law is NOTHING in the shadow of my affections for my Master.”

“Right?! So you need to get up off this log! You need to go right up there! And you need to show him you’re SERIOUS about him!”

Sooga found himself suddenly standing up, hands in fists.

“You’re right! Absolutely right! I CANNOT stand by and let him think his love ISN'T worth fighting for!”

“HELL YES!”

Impa punched him in his chest, and that somehow lit Sooga up like a fire. WIth that classic Yiga skill, he poofed into nothing but talismans. Zelda looked over at Impa, sighing.

“You know, Impa, I value your tenacity.”

“Thank you, Princess!”

“But...you understand that this could not end well, right?”

“....yeah. Oops.”

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

“Thanks again, Mipha. I needed that.”

“Of course. I’m very glad you listened to my words. I wish you both the best. I hope S-”

“Princess, excuse us.”

Suddenly Sooga was just right there, butting right in between him and the princess. Cil was right at Kohga’s side, readying his blade, before Sooga swatted his hand away, disarming him in a heartbeat. His eyes met Kohga, and he tried terribly hard not to embrace him. He missed him terribly, he just wanted to hug him.

“You two, leave. I need a word with him.”

Cil was about to attack, when Kohga held his hand, stopping him.

“N-no. It’s fine. He’s right. We do need to talk.”

“Good. Your room. WITHOUT your new pet.”

Sooga practically herded Kohga into his room, as if he was cattle. Then the door slammed behind him. This was weird. He was standing so aggressively over him, and Kohga looked so...meek. Apologetic.

What was wrong with them?

Sooga was about to raise his voice, demanding reasoning for his heartache, only for him to suddenly go onto one knee.

“I...I missed you, so much. Please, please don’t kick me out again. My heart longed for you every minute I was away from you. Please, please tell me what I did wrong. I’ll never do it again, I swear it.”

Kohga lost his meek demeanor, groaning and scratching his head.

“You...didn’t do anything.”

Sooga looked up, head cocked.

“I...don’t understand?”

“You didn’t do anything! That’s the problem! You’re perfect! You LOVE me! You wanted to MARRY me, Sooga!”

Sooga’s eyes lit in recognition.

“You..found the ring, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did. And I...didn’t want you to ask. So I kicked you out until I knew you’d not wanna ask me.”

“I...I’d never want to stop asking you.”

Kohga threw his hands up in frustration.

“That’s the problem!! You wanna get married, you wanna settle down, I bet you wanna have kids too don’t you?!”

“I’d….like twelve, honestly.”

“Fucks SAKE!”

Kohga turned a full three sixty, gesturing to him wildly.

“That’s CRAZY! You love me! And I can’t bring myself to make such a huge commitment! What if we change when we get married? What if I decide I DON’T want this?! What if we get TIRED of each ot-”

Sooga reached over to hold onto his hand. For a moment, everything was silent, easy as a still lake. Sooga lightly shook his head.

“Then you do not have to say yes.”

“But! Aren’t you gonna be stupid humilated if-”

“I won’t. I want to marry you, very much. I want to be with you, and I want to be deemed worthy of being your husband. But not at the expense of your happiness. Your joy is my own. I can be reincarnated a thousand times over, and STILL want your hand. But it doesn’t matter. Your joy is my joy, your sorrow is my sorrow. I will wait until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m not ready? Ever?”

“That is fine. If I can love you in ANY degree, I will accept it. Even if you wed another, I will not stop having love for you. Just...please. Don’t ask me to leave you, ever again. I trust no one but me to take care of you. Not that ‘Cil’ fellow. I hate his name.”

Kohga’s hand lightly shook, before he suddenly lunged at Sooga, wrapping his arms around him. Sooga stayed there for a moment, before he sighed, wrapping his arms around him. He missed this body, missed this voice and this warmth. Kohga sniffed, wiping his face in his shoulder.

“I hate him too, he’s such a kiss ass. And his ass is SO flat.”

That earned an actual, good laugh from Sooga. Yeah.

He was worth loving, ring or not.

#asks #kohga #sooga #mipha #impa #listen #kohga has commitment issues #but that's okay with Sooga #HE'S all that matters #not the status of the relationship

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