#been gaining some follower as of lately so just a lil reminder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satuguro · 4 years ago

Text

tenshi | pt. 2

IN WHICH: tsukishima can’t let go and your sadness turns into anger.

PAIRING: tsukishima kei x ukai!reader, kageyama tobio x ukai!reader

INSPIRED BY: freckles — kevin atwater, hikare are (moonlight) — burnout syndromes

WARNING: angst, cursing

A/N: sorry for taking so long to update! i’ve been having really bad writer’s block :,)

prologue, pt. 1, pt. 2

tsukishima wasn’t sure when it happened.

he always had a gut feeling that he had always felt that way when he looked at you. the feeling of caring so much for one person terrified him. he had never felt like that before— it was new and unexpected.

tsukishima didn’t like new and unexpected. he wasn’t like you, who practically craved the outside world that it was almost annoying.

he had spent countless nights trying to figure out when he realized he loved you.

was it when you gave him a box of dinosaur bandaids that you had stolen from your dad’s store? you given it to him with a smile and a short, “it reminded me of you.”

was it when you let him pick the movie for movie night, but instead of him picking jurassic park, you picked it? “you always pick jurassic park, and you always pick the first one because it’s your favorite,” you had stated with a nonchalant shrug.

or was it when you told him you were leaving? when you muttered out your mom’s plans and tsukishima’s blood ran cold because no, this wasn’t some sick joke. you were leaving and never coming back.

you had told him you were leaving, and all he did was walk away.

“i’ll walk home with the guys tonight!” you sent your dad a bright grin, one he only huffed at as he reluctantly handed the keys to kageyama.

“be safe,” he said sternly. his words would’ve almost come off as cold if you didn’t know your dad well. he was worried, that was all. as he made his way to the door, he paused, not looking over his shoulder as he said, “if you all don’t leave soon y/n won’t treat you to meat buns.” immediately, ukai shut the door behind him.

instantaneously, hinata bound over to you, his arms going up as he jumped around you over and over. you could never get used to the sudden height he gained “y/n teach me more about what you know you never got to—!”

hinata’s loud screaming was interrupted by a volleyball that hit his head.

kageyama, who was practically fuming as he stood behind the middle blocker, barked, “do you want meat buns or not? help us clean, dumbass!”

as the freak duo continued to bicker as they cleaned up, you nudged yachi softly as you watched on in amusement. “it’s good that they haven’t changed,” you commented, and she smiled widely.

“oh yeah, they’re still exactly as before. they just learned more, i guess,” yachi laughed. in front of you, yamaguchi tried to calm the two down, his freckled cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. tsukishima only loomed over them with an unimpressed look on his face. “same thing goes for yama. tsukishima, though...”

“i expected it,” you cut her off, words coming out more forced than you would’ve liked. without missing a beat, you smiled. you didn’t want to tell her that tsukishima was the last thing you wanted to hear about. “we should help out. knowing by dad, he’ll probably purposely close the store if we’re late.”

“they have the best meat buns, trust me!”

akiteru’s cheerful voice made kei let out a disgruntled grunt.

ever since he found out that his brother and his position as an oh-so-great ace, akiteru had ben doing everything to make it up for him. tsukishima’s frown deepened as he reluctantly walked into the store, his eyes set on his sneakers as he slowly followed his brother.

he lied. no amount of meat buns was going to change that fact.

“ukai! two of your best meat buns, please!” akiteru’s grin faltered for a moment as he turned back to kei, but that didn’t change his spirits as he turned to the cashier.

you sat behind the cash register, your fingers reaching up to your mouth and pulling out the red lollipop you were sucking on. it was obvious that you were kei’s age, yet you acted like you owned the shop (and maybe you did).

“my dad says i’m not allowed to get meat from the dish because it’s too hot and i’ll die,” you said pointedly, leaning forward in your plastic chair. you looked at kei with a curious tilt of your head, and kei only stared back.

your hair was pulled back with a thin headband, and he recognized the logo on your beige sweatshirt; a volleyball sweatshirt.

“i didn’t know you had a lil’ brother,” you said with a tilted grin, eyes switching between kei and akiteru. in response, akiteru ruffled kei’s hair, making the boy scowl and try to slap his hand away. you giggled in amusement. “he’s grumpy.”

kei gave you a nasty look. “am not.”

your beaming smile didn’t falter at the glare he gave you. you were perfectly unfazed by it, and to kei’s surprise, you only laughed more. “you’re funny.”

kei’s face bloomed a slight shade of red.

“s’bout time. i was about to close,” your dad sighed as he handed you the packs of meat buns.

you knew that was a lie. he always liked night shifts at the shop.

“even if you did close the shop, i’d feed them,” you hummed, looking behind you. your friends were outside, all standing in front of the glass door of the shop. yachi was laughing with hinata while kageyama sipped his milk peacefully. farther away from them was yamaguchi and tsukishima; the green haired boy was trying to speak to the other, but the blonde was too busy on his phone.

“whatever,” keishin managed a small smile as you turned back to him. “don’t stay out too late.”

“i won’t. thanks, dad.” you gave him a short side hug before you made tour way back outside, blind to the growing smile on your father’s face.

“oh my god, i love you!” hinata took the pack from you and began eating it almost immediately. you scrunched your nose as you saw part of the wrapper disappear in his mouth.

“hinata you ate like half of the paper—!” yachi yelled in panic, her hand smacking hinata’s back as she tried to get him to spit it out.

you turned to kageyama, handing him his meat bun with a close lipped smile. he squished his milk carton with one hand, his free one taking the meat bun from you. “... thank you,” he managed a smile, and you laughed.

it wasn’t as scary as his smile before you left. then again, you never really minded his smile.

you walked over to yamaguchi and tsukishima, both of whom were talking intently between themselves.

“you can’t keep this up— y/n!” yamaguchi’s freckled fave bloomed red as he forced a smile, his expression immediately changing. wordlessly, you handed the meat bun pack to him.

“what’re you guys talking about?” you found yourself asking, eyes daring to meet tsukishima’s for a second before meeting yamaguchi’s once again.

“none of your business, ukai,” tsukishima answered before yamaguchi could. you stiffened at the use of your last name; he never used it before.

“tsukki!” yamaguchi scolded, but you only smiled.

god, tsukishima hated it when you smiled. he hated how his glare, which was supposed to be nasty and full of hatred, would falter at the sight of it.

“it’s whatever,” you shrugged, playing off your feelings, “enjoy, you guys.”

┈┈ ��༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

of course he was the last to leave.

you wanted to curse whatever god was in the skies that made him the last one to leave. the awkwardness hung in the air, and you could’ve easily just chosen to go inside the shop and he could’ve just gone home, but you were both frozen in your spots.

you two were sitting on the curb, making sure that there was a distance between you both. the only light was the flickering street lights and the dim lights of your shop behind you both.

you both could’ve just left. so why didn’t you?

“we haven’t—“

“shut up.”

your mouth shut and your gaze returned to your feet.

why wasn’t he leaving? why weren’t you leaving?

how could he still be so mean? this is kei, but still.

your confusion slowly turned to anger as your fists clenched harder and harder, before you snapped your head towards kei and finally let it out.

“what the hell is your problem?”

to your surprise (and anger), he only shook his head, letting out an incredulous laugh.

“really, ukai? you have no idea?” kei didn’t even look at you as he chuckled, his glasses nearly slipping off his face. “you’re as dumb as you look.”

“i’m not a fucking mind reader, kei,” you seethed in response, your eyes never once leaving his form. all the sadness that he once been caused by him turned into pure rage; his blunt words didn’t help. “so tell me. what is your problem?”

“fuck off,” kei snapped, standing up from his seat and shoving his hands in his pockets. he began to walk away without another word.

“no, tell me.” you stood up after him, your tenacity getting the beat of you as you followed him. “kei—“

“i told you to stop calling me that!” kei turned to you, meeting your eyes for what fet like the first time in forever. he was angry, that much you knew. his brows were knitted together as he looked at you, and his eyes held nothing good behind them. yet, despite all of this, you stepped closer. “leave me alone, ukai.”

“i just—“

“what, you want it to be like old times? you want me to accept you with open arms and a big fucking smile?” kei took a stop closer to you. he saw the way your lip was quivering and how you hid it by pulling it between your teeth. his haze was stone cold, and no matter how much he wanted to say, “i’m sorry for being such an ass,” he did nothing. kei was driven by the hurt you caused him before you left and the pain he went through by keeping his own words to himself. you left.

“leave me alone, ukai. i mean it.”

the first time you argued with tsukishima kei was when you were in middle school.

you had accidentally stepped on his favorite dinosaur figurine when you were dropping off his notebook at his house. in an immature fit of rage, kei told you to get out while he desperately tried to fix it.

his brother gave him that figurine before he left for college. of course it meant a lot to him.

you had come back to next day with a dinosaur plushie that you had bought with all your chore money. you had messily embroidered a small moon on the stuffed t-rex’s chest, and you had shoved it to his chest when he opened the door.

you didn’t like accepting defeat, but this was an exception. “i’m sorry, please accept this as a token of my affection.”

kei remembered that he had responded with a judgmental raise of his brow, but you had cut him off before he could make fun of you.

“i spent all night making that damn moon. accept it or die, kei.”

he walked away again.

you only stood in place, your eyes watching his form leave as you clenched and unclenched your hands. you wanted to scream. you wanted to find a punching bag and punch the living daylights out of it, but all you did was watch him go.

“y/n?”

you tensed up at the voice, and you turned around towards the voice. tobio kageyama stood right behind you, his hand reaching down for the pack of pencils he seemingly forgot before he left. knowing him, that was probably all the pencils he had.

“you’re crying,” the setter said dumbly, standing up at full height as he looked at you with a concerned frown. what else was he supposed to say?

you managed a laugh as you aggressively wiped your tears away. god, you hated crying. “no shit, genius.”

kageyama stepped closer to you as you continued to wipe your eyes. you laughed tearfully once again.

“i don’t even know why i’m crying,” you felt more tears flow down your cheeks as you hurried to wipe them away again. once again, you laughed. “it just keeps coming.”

quietly, kageyama pulled you closer to him, his arms holding you close as you continued to softly cry. your words of, “the tears won’t stop. why isn’t it stopping?” were muffled as you cried into his sweatshirt.

┈┈ 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

A/N: again, sorry for the late update! writer’s block sucks ass :(

TAGLIST: @grapesauze , @neijiwave , @whothefuckstolemykeds , @sugakuns , @lexysclubhouse , @bakibakini , @animeanxiety , @kodzu-ken , @ukhyeonn , @sana-li , @differentballooncollection , @thechaosoflonging , @scrappydaisies , @nnessworls , @emogril , @killuaking , @vinnieluv , @kageyamas-whore , @helloshoutohere

prologue, pt. 1, pt. 2

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima imagines #tsukishima smut #tsukishima angst #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #kageyama imagines #kageyama smut #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!

248 notes · View notes

tywrites · 5 years ago

Text

reaction to s/o being flirted with | headcannons

request: can I get an imagine on how bokuto and ushijima would react if they turned a corner and suddenly saw there fem!s/o getting cornered against a wall by a random 3rd year that has been recently flirting with her. And s/o is small 152cm/5'0 please make them seperate scenarios :)

a/n: ahh i'm really trying to get the hang of characterisation rn so i'm sorry if they're a lil ooc :( but please leave me any feedback, it'd honestly be really helpful! hope you enjoy anon <3

warnings: hmm, some swearing but that's all :))

pairings: ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

BOKUTO

After winning a match, Bokuto's first instinct is to run to you and allow you to shower him in the praise. Especially if it had been a particularly hard match with strong opponents. He'd run to you and scoop you up into his arms, not caring about the deadpan looks he'd get from his team mates, holding you close as you told him how well he'd done. Knowing how proud of him you were just made him so incredibly happy and to see you waiting for him at the entrance to the auditorium was the thing he looked forward to most during matches.

However, on this particular day, you were nowhere to be found.

He looked high and low when the match had finished, but he just could not seem to find you. You weren't waiting by the entrance like you usually were, nor were you by the vending machines getting him a post-game snack like you would occasionally do. You also weren't answering any of his excited texts. Due to this, Bokuto simply became more and more dejected as he and the rest of his team mates walked towards the receptionists area, his emo-mode settling into place.

"Bokuto-san, she's probably just in the bathroom," Akaashi reminded him, sighing quietly to himself as Bokuto looked to him with sorrow in his eyes.

"But... but Akaashi, she always waits for me after games. She wouldn't let her BLADDER stop her! And I saw her in the crowd! So she's here somewhere, maybe she just didn't wanna see me..." he cried dramatically, allowing his arms to drag by his sides.

Rolling his eyes, Akaashi rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. Immediately, he put one hand on Bokuto's shoulder to gain his attention and pointed down the hallway. There you were. In quite the predicament. Caged between a tall third year's arms, the discomfort was incredibly clear on your face, even from the distance Bokuto and Akaashi were standing. The boy was talking animatedly to you while you smiled politely up at him, though anyone would have been able to tell the smile was really forced.

Bokuto knew this boy. He'd seen him talking to you when he'd come to pick you up after classes, sliding his arm around your shoulders and getting far too close for comfort. Of course, Bokuto wasn't the type to immediately assume the worst. He trusted you and knew you wouldn't do anything to prove him otherwise. However, it was the third year he didn't trust.

The aura radiating off Bokuto switched quickly, going from downcast to fiery.

What the fuck did this dude think he was doing?

In a few quick steps, he was standing right behind the perpetrator and (more aggressively than he'd intended to) pulled him back from you by his shoulder. Frustrated at the interruption, the boy flew around to face him and was met with 6'1 of pure muscle, this clearly intimidating him quite a lot. This boy may have been tall, but compared to Bokuto, he stood no chance.

Shrinking back, the boy spoke timidly. "What do you w-"

"Y/N, I found you!" Bokuto let out a happy cry and pushed the guy aside while wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to him as the third year watched on awkwardly. Keeping one arm around your waist, Bokuto then turned to the cowering boy. "Is this what was keeping you?" He asked you, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked him up and down.

"Uh, look man, I'm sorry. We were just talking, I swear," the boy babbled, holding up his hands in defense, not wanting to provoke Bokuto even more. Bokuto frowned at him and looked down at you for confirmation. Playing with the sleeves of your boyfriend's jersey that was wrapped around you, you avoided his gaze, not wanting to make the situation worse. Luckily for you, Akaashi decided to step in.

"I'm glad we found you, Y/N-san. Bokuto-san, let's go, we have to get to the bus," he said pointedly, taking your boyfriend's elbow and dragging him gently, but firmly, in the opposite direction. Bokuto's gaze didn't waver for a few seconds, honestly looking more comical than intimidating at this point—walking away with Akaashi pulling him, his arm wrapped around you while craning his neck to glare at the boy who'd been heavily flirting with you.

No sooner had you rounded the corner before he threw his arms around you yet again. "Y/N! I thought you were avoiding meeee," he said childishly, as he held you tightly to him. "Did you see me hit that awesome spike!!"

You giggled lightly at his antics. "I sure did! You were amazing, babe,"

Your praise made everything totally worth it.

USHIJIMA

For Ushijima, seeing you just before a match had become a routine. You'd help him stretch or simply sit in eachother's company while you did most of the talking, chatting about how excited you were for the game or about something silly you'd seen Tendou do that day. He wasn't the type to get nervous before a match, but having you there with your soft voice filling the air, set him at ease.

Which is why right now, he was beginning to get slightly worried.

Not about the match. He was incredibly confident that they'd be able to win even without your presence. But he was worried about you.

After you'd exited the bus, you'd mentioned that you needed to go to the bathroom before parting ways with the team. They'd continued onto the auditorium and hadn't really paid much attention to your absence until now. The whole team was so used to your encouraging tone and they way you'd fuss over them to make sure they had everything they need; not having you there felt strange indeed.

"Y/N-senpai sure is taking a long time..." Goshiki mentioned to Tendou as he looked around the room. "I hope nothing's happened. I want her to see me ace this match! Do you think she's okay?"

Tendou looked down at him, pondering, before turning to Ushijima and repeating the question. "Hey Wakatoshi, you worried about Y/N? She's taking a long time for just a bathroom break, dont'cha think?" he asked, tilting his head slightly while attempting to read Ushijima's current feelings.

Ushijima stayed silent; though for Tendou, the sight furrow in his forehead answered his question. Without saying a word, Ushjima rose up from his stretching position on the floor and left the room, the eyes of his team mates following him curiously.

As he wandered the halls, all the ace could think about was where you were. You were honestly one of the only things that could push the thought of volleyball out of his mind, even for just a brief moment. In the beginning of your relationship, it wasn't uncommon for Ushjima to blow off your plans to practice late or leave you waiting while going over strategies with the team. However, your patience with him and the progression in your relationship since then truly showed how much he cared for you.

Ushijima was not a very expressive man, that was for sure. He never exactly had much to say and really only spoke him mind when it was necessary. Jealousy wasn't an emotion he was accustomed to to say the least and he rarely got jealous, even when you were spending a lot of free time with a certain friend of yours. Though he was slow with social cues sometimes, Ushijima was no fool and knew when someone was flirting, and this friend of yours was certainly crossing the line with you a few weeks back.

You being one of the only people able to read him, you had understood immediately that the ace was jealous and had tried to distance yourself from this friend as politely as possible. But still, while he was looking for you, all that seemed to go through Ushijima's mind was images of you and your friend together.

And his worries were correct.

As he rounded the corner of the hallway that led to the bathrooms, Ushjima stopped in his tracks and took a second to process the situation in front of him.

He'd found you. But so had someone else. You were gingerly leaning against the wall while your friend (that seemed twice your size at this point) was cupping your face with one hand, bending down slightly to really invade into your personal zone. Ushijima honestly had never felt an emotion quite like this before. A frown on his face, he approached quickly and cleared his throat viciously once he'd gotten behind your friend.

Scoffing, the boy turned around, coming face to face with your boyfriend's intense stare. There was something in his eyes that just screamed danger—or maybe it was more accurate to say it screamed "get the fuck away from my girlfriend."

Due to the change in position, you were finally able to free yourself from in between the wall and your friend, moving to the side and awkwardly watching the staring contest that was going on between Ushijima and his fellow third year. If you didn't break this up, they'd be there forever and neither seemed to be backing down. Though you couldn't tell whether your friend was frozen in defiance or fear.

Stepping forward, you took Ushijima's arm in your hands and tugged it gently, causing him to look down at you.

"Babe, can we go? You'll miss the match," you said, trying to diffuse the situation before anything got out of hand.

At the sound of your voice and the reminder of the match, Ushijima calmed down a considerable amount. "Yes. You're right," he replied, turning his body towards you and starting to walk away. Before you turned to go around the corner, your boyfriend stopped walking and looked behind him to your friend standing alone in the middle of the corridor.

"Don't touch her again."

#request #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi imagine #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou imagine #bokuto x reader

690 notes · View notes

owillofthewisps · 4 years ago

Text

unspoken

notes: shout-out to tumblr for not being functional - this was originally a response to an ask from an anon asking for eskel smut! hi anon!! i hope this was what you wanted/is something you find sexy!

i feel like you weren’t quite looking for 5k of smuff (smutty fluff) but it’s uh. what you’re getting. sorry about that. and i could have written a whole nother scene. that’s probably show up down the line.

i’ve never written eskel before and hooo it shows. sorry anon!!

pairing: eskel/fem reader

rating: explicit (warnings: fingering, oral (f receiving), brief handjob, slight overstimulation, some self-esteem issues referenced/briefly mentioned. i think that’s it.)

word count: 5.3k one day, you think, Eskel will be able to hear the words you’re already saying.

You hear the galloping hoof beats too late.

They’ve been obscured by the churning rhyme you’re humming, the slow, steady song of home.

“Lil’ Bleater, no!” Eskel calls, his deep voice edged with a hint of panic. From the sound of him, his rambunctious goat has left him behind in a quick burst of speed. She’s a nimble little thing, you know, liable to dance around the broad Witcher as he tries to corral her.

There’s no time to turn, and you shriek with laughter as the small goat butts against the back of your knees. Her horns catch in your skirts for a moment, tangling like river reeds caught in the current. It sends you stumbling forward. You catch yourself against the heavy churn, still giggling despite the small sting of her horns, blunt though they are.

“I thought we were friends, little thief,” you tell Lil’ Bleater, who merely bleats at you around the mouthful of verdant green alfalfa sprouts she’s knocked from the pocket of your apron.

“Lil’ Bleater!” Eskel says, practically tumbling into the lean-to in his rush. The goat prances away, eyeing him warily as she continues to munch on her prize. “Don’t you - oh.”

“Well met, Eskel,” you say, turning to face him with a soft smile. You wipe at your brow with the back of your hand, knowing that you are likely shining with sweat from the heavy work of churning. “You were right, I shouldn’t have let her know I have alfalfa in my pockets.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, not meeting your eyes. You wish he would. You so often yearn for the sunlight of his gaze, the way his amber eyes go soft for you, like butter melting. His fingers flex. He scrubs a hand over his face, and you know his scars are pulsing. They’re vivid against his skin. It reminds you of the meadow near your birthplace, where the sorrel grew wild, leaves streaked with crimson veins. They are terrible scars, you know, but there is beauty in them too.

“Are you hurt?”

“Just a little sore,” you say. It’s a soft kiss of pain, something summery in it, the ache of slipping from a tree branch when you’ve climbed just a bit higher than you should have.

Eskel shifts, and you know the slight hunch of his shoulders. Before Eskel, you never thought a Witcher could look so small. You shake your skirts loose from their tangle and cross to him. His large hands flex, rising slightly as if to touch, and then he drops them back to his side. You catch your sigh between your teeth and swallow it down.

The Path takes him from you often, and you bear him no grudge for it, but sometimes he returns to you with unsure hands, as if he worries that you will fade away like a dream should he touch. It is still new, though, this thing between the two of you, a sprout unfolding into a stem, stretching closer to the sky. You are not patient, but for him, you will be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he sounds oddly helpless. “You’re sure you aren’t harmed?”

You trace a hand over the bulk of his shoulder. It’s a light touch, a gentle summer breeze ruffling through the wildflowers, slipping over their petals like silk, and something in him eases.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you say airily. “I’m hardier than you think. Though Lil’ Bleater may need to apologize to the chickens for stealing their treat.”

“I’ll get you more.”

You raise a brow. “I’ve a whole field of it,” you point out. “Besides, if you truly wish to make amends when none are needed, you can greet me with the kiss I’d like to have.”

That finally draws his gaze to you. In the light filtering into the lean-to, his eyes gleam amber, translucent like summer honey. His eyes always leave you greedy, feeling gold-drunk, a dragon coiled around her hoard.

“Only if you’d like,” you remind him, because you will take nothing that he does not wish to give.

Eskel cups your face in his large hands, draws you close, and drinks from your lips. You hum into the kiss, your eyes fluttering closed. His fingers gain surety, the rough pad of his thumb dragging over the sweep of your cheekbone, and you drape your arms around his neck. He’s so broad against you, steady and grounding, an ancient oak firmly rooted. You tease a sharp breath out of him with your tongue.

When you pull back, his eyes have darkened to the golden glow of a mostly-set sun. His hands slip to your waist, his fingers tight on the plush curve of your hips.

“I missed you,” you admit boldly. Sya often tells you that you have a brazen tongue. You aren’t quite sure of that, but you know you tend towards bluntness. A hammer instead of a blade, Sya tells you.

Eskel makes a soft noise that you can’t quite place. He slides the tips of his fingers into the small gap between your skirts and your bodice, his amber eyes tracing over you. You refuse to be embarrassed. It’s true, after all, and you will tell him until it is not. But you do not think it will ever be untrue.

He pulls you in for another kiss, and this time, you can sense the teeth in him. The hunger. Eskel kisses you breathless, the pads of his fingers slipping higher on your bare skin. He kisses you until the world fades around you, until it feels quiet despite the chirp of the birds and the rustle of the breeze.

You press closer still, tangling your fingers into his mahogany hair. He rumbles out a noise that arrows through you. You can feel his hand trailing up the ladder of your spine, leaving a blazing trail of heat behind it. Your bodice loosens as he tugs at the laces. The sweetly embroidered neckline dips low, catching on the thin fabric of the chemise, and you pull in a tight breath.

“Eskel,” you murmur. He dips his head to your neck, his breath whirling warm over your skin, and then - Lil’ Bleater makes herself known with a bleat and a headbutt. She mouths at your apron, trying to pull the pocket open for more alfalfa.

“Lil’ Bleater!” Eskel hisses as you laugh into his shoulder. He leans down as she butts against you again with another faint cry, dismayed to find your pocket ransacked and empty. She turns her attention to him, butting against his large hands, and even though Eskel is swearing under his breath, he is gentle as he shoos her away.

The goat squawks her displeasure and flounces out of the lean-to. You’ve no doubt that she’ll take her revenge against the rolling hills of your herb garden, particularly the large stalks of sweet fennel she favors, often gnawing them down to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel says, looking sheepish, but at least there’s a smile lingering in the corner of his mouth.

You press a kiss against the skin peeking over the neckline of his shirt. He’d shed his armor before coming to find you, clearly, and you hope he went into the cottage this time instead of leaving them outside, too polite to enter without you there to let him in. “It’s for the best,” you say with a low laugh. You nip at his skin, taste the salt of him. “Been a while since I’ve been tumbled in the hay.”

“A shame, that,” he says, and you are glad to hear the tease of it, to hear him start settling back into familiarity. His fingers trail low on your hips as you step out of his grasp. You catch his hand as it falls, wind your fingers between his thick ones like tendrils on a trellis. He makes a perplexed little noise, almost too quiet to be heard, and you glance back at him.

Eskel is sun-drenched, the light streaming through the window to bathe him, to swallow him in its incandescent touch. His deep brown hair gleams dark under the light’s touch, a shadow of a crown, and sometimes you think you will never have words for the color of his eyes. They are too many things at once: the soft shimmer of coin glinting in low tavern light, the glory of a sun peeking over the horizon, the golden drip of a noblewoman’s necklace. He shares them with other Witchers, you suppose, but you think you would find his different still, a treasure all your own.

Many women would not call him handsome, you know, too distracted by the scars carving canyons across his face. It is not something you understand.

You find Eskel attractive always, but like this, touched by light, gilded by the sun, he is something else. Your breath catches in your throat.

Eskel doesn’t seem to notice, his golden eyes fixed on where your fingers twine around his. You realize then. The breath caught in you grows thicker, and you ache for this man.

You tighten your grip on his hand. When his eyes flit up to you, a darting little glance that reminds you of the nimble flutter of a hummingbird’s wings, you smile, soft and slow.

“Come,” you say. “As I said - I’ve missed you.”

His fingers tighten around yours, and then he follows you out into the warmth of the afternoon.

The short walk to your cottage takes longer than usual, the two of you swept up into each other’s current more and more, like shells caught spinning in the ocean’s waves. Eskel kisses the breath from you, pinning you against your front door, his knee between your thighs, tugging you close until your clothed cunt drags across the length of his muscled thigh, until you can feel the hard length of him against your hip.

You fumble with the latch as he palms your breast, slipping his large hand down the front of your chemise. He kneads at the flesh as he mouths at your neck, scraping his teeth against the column of your throat. You whimper as he strokes a thumb over your nipple until it pebbles, the barest hint of lightning starting to flicker down your spine, like a summer storm still sparking on the horizon.

The door unlatches, and you yelp as you go stumbling backwards. Eskel moves like water, his large form impossibly fluid, hooking an arm around your waist and steadying you.

“Careful now,” he says lowly, a grin flickering at the edges of his lips like hearthfire.

You swat at him, but lean up to kiss him with a laugh as he sets you back on your feet. He nudges the door shut and pulls you back to him. You’ve never known a man so steady. There are moments where he reminds you of the stalwart rocks of the coast, unmoving despite the ocean’s howling waves, standing firm against the water’s pull. Instead, though, he is more the tide, sweeping into your life and then out again, an ebb and flow always.

“Stop thinking,” Eskel says softly, and promptly kisses the thoughts right out of your head. You clutch at him in the haze of it. He enfolds your senses like fog, the taste of him sweet on your tongue, the prick of his teeth catching on your lower lip spreading through you. It’s the heat of his hand that brings you back to yourself, his large hand slipping under your skirt and between your thighs to cup your cunt.

“Fuck,” Eskel groans, because you’re already wet enough to soak through your smallclothes, the cloth clinging to your cunt as he presses up against you until your hips jolt forward, chasing the friction of his palm. You grasp at his hair as he ducks his head to suck at your nipple, mindless of the barrier of your chemise, his mouth closing wet and hot around the stiff peak. His cheeks hollow slightly, and you can feel the rasp of his stubble. The sensation arcs through you, spitting sparks like forgefire.

You wind your fingers into his thick hair and pull him tight against you with a quiet moan. Eskel rocks his palm against your cunt, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. You clench, feeling your cunt pulse around nothing. “Off,” you say, tugging at his shirt, deeply grateful that he’d shed his jerkin earlier. You catch at the hem, start to lift it as best you can with him curved around you like a fern.

You can feel the smile on his lips as he tightens them around your nipple, his tongue tracing over the pebbled furl of it. He pulls back and the damp fabric goes chill without the warmth of his mouth. Gooseflesh rolls over you like a fogbank, skittering across your skin.

“Impatient,” he chides.

“Always,” you huff, because you have long demanded satisfaction in all aspects of life, and have long learned that sometimes you must push to get it. You shrug out of your loosened bodice, let it slip down you like a water drop slides across a leaf. Eskel pulls back to undress, his hand dragging across the length of your cunt, but you have greedy hands, and you don’t let him go far, slip your hands up the loose fabric. Your fingers skate against the defined planes of his stomach. The muscles jump beneath your fingertips, rippling, your touch a stone skipped over their surface.

Eskel’s thick fingers slip into the ties of your skirts. They give with one quick tug, puddling around your feet. You step out of the froth of them and into his arms, catching the hem of his chemise once more, urging it up until he finally strips it off.

He’s a sight, all coiled muscle, scars scattered across his torso like constellations. You corral him back towards your bed until he’s laid out on your linens, sprawled out like a feast.

You peel off your chemise and let it drop to the floor. Eskel pulls in a sharp breath, the sound like whistling wind. Heat rises into your cheeks as he gazes up at you with something perilously close to reverence, a supplicant at your altar.

“Beautiful,” he tells you, and you feel the same, gazing down at him, at the glow of his eyes and the carved sculpture of his body, and mostly - the tilt of his lips into something soft and sweet. You know better now, though, than to speak your thoughts aloud, at least for now. It turns something in him to stone.

“Oh?” you say instead, crawling over him and settling on the washboard of his abs, your wet smallclothes sticking to skin. “I think you’re too kind, good sir.”

“Nay,” Eskel says, and though he’s playing along, there’s a quiet solemnity glinting in his eyes. His scars burn bright against his skin, and gods, he is so lovely it makes something in you twist. “I only settle for beautiful as there are no adequate words.”

That shakes you. Oh, you think. Oh. You hide your fluster in his skin, leaning down to sink your teeth into the thick pillar of his neck. Eskel groans, his immense hands coming up to bracket your hips, and you push forward to suck marks into his tanned skin, to ruddy his skin like red wine lingering on lips. One hand slips down to palm your ass roughly, his blunt fingers squeezing and kneading. He rocks you forward with his grip, lets your cunt slide against the ridges of his muscled stomach.

The gasp spills from you like wine, and Eskel drinks it from your lips as he pulls your soaked smallclothes to the side. He swipes his thumb over your clit, sends sparks skipping through you, the pleasure going from strikepoint to strikepoint, lightning caught in your skin. He circles your hole with a blunt fingertip, teasing against the sensitive, wet silk of your skin, and you catch his lips once more as he sinks a thick finger into you.

You can’t muffle the whimper, and he moans against your lips at the sound of it, your voice thickened to slow honey. Your cunt pulses. Eskel kisses the curse off your tongue as he starts to thrust, each slide of his fingers rolling you against his hard muscles until you’re keening. The pressure of his abs against your clit makes you tremble, and then he sinks another finger into you, and then a third. You spasm around the fullness, dropping your head onto his chest to pant against him.

There’s sweat gleaming on your skin as you push back against Eskel’s fingers, driving them deeper in the clutch of your cunt.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He scrapes his teeth against the ridge of your shoulder. He pulls you down against him, your breasts soft against the hard plane of his chest, and the change in position grinds his fingers against a spot in your cunt that makes lightning arc up your spine. You clench, dripping around his fingers spreading you wide.

“That’s it,” Eskel says again, his voice silk rasping against stone. “So pretty, sweetling.”

He twists his fingers in the way you like, deft despite the size of them, and his other hand drops down to slip against the slick of your clit. White heat streak through you, pleasure like a falling star in the sky of your body, plummeting through you to burn hot in your cunt.

Your voice breaks on Eskel’s name as you shake apart on top of him. He pets at your back as you tremble against him, slowing the thrust of his fingers as you pant. Vaguely, beneath the ringing in your ears, you can hear him muttering sweet things to you.

He pulls his fingers from you. It sends steel-edged pleasure cutting through you.

You can feel the heat of his cock radiating against your inner thigh. Eskel catches your wrist as you start to reach for him, wanting to feel the weight of his cock in the palm of your hand, to feel the velvet drag of his skin against yours.

“Not yet,” he tells you, and he tilts you off of him with a shift of his powerful hips.

The yelp spills from you as you topple over onto the mattress with a small bounce. Eskel rolls over on top of you, cages you in. The corner of his lips is soft with a secret, and you squirm beneath the silk of his eyes, the way they trace over your features as if you are art.

“I want your cock,” you say, at the edge of a whine.

Eskel grunts at that, his eyes going dark. “I want to see you cum again,” he tells you, and then his mahogany hair is brushing against your collarbone as he ducks lower, pressing a biting kiss between your breasts, his mouth hot and sharp with pleasure against your skin. He licks and kisses his way down your stomach before setting his teeth against your hip bone, finally peeling away your sopping smallclothes. Your nerves buzz under your skin.

“Eskel,” you sigh, and he dips his mouth to your cunt. His stubble scrapes across the delicate skin of your inner thighs. He shifts your legs wider with a nudge, the barest hint of the strength that lies just beneath the sweetness of him. The flat of his tongue sweeps through your soaked folds and you grab at his hair without thinking. The sizzle of sensation is sharp-toothed, digs into your bones, and when you buck, you can’t quite tell if you’re pushing forward or pulling back.

He swings a heavy arm over your hips, presses you down like a flower between the pages of a book. You know you cannot move him with anything but your words. He peers up at you over the curve of your stomach and the swell of your breasts. “Okay?” he asks, and his lips are reddened and shining in the sunlight leaking through your shutters.

“Yes,” you gasp, because you have never shied from keen edges.

You can feel him smile against the wet of you. He leans back down and then his mouth is tight around your clit, until the pleasure cuts into the marrow of you. Eskel works you with his talented mouth, licks and sucks at you like summer fruit, the smallest hint of teeth gentle against your cunt. You jerk against the anchor of his arm, hips thrusting up as you toss your head back, sweat slicking the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Please,” you babble, fingers fisting tight in his hair. “Eskel, Eskel, please.”

He hums against your dripping folds, and the way it resonates through you makes you think of how you’ve imagined the snap of magic against your skin, prickling and intoxicating. Your skin feels too small. The sensation of Eskel lapping at you, one thick finger deep in your cunt, rides the knife’s edge, half-pain, half-pleasure. He closes his mouth around your clit and sucks, hollowing his cheeks, and it snaps through you.

“Fuck!”

Your trembling thighs clamp around Eskel’s head as you cum, back arching as much as you can beneath his firm arm over your hips. He lets you ride your orgasm out, still gently licking at you, just enough to keep the sparks rolling over your spine.

He kisses the junction of your hip and thigh as you calm.

“Gods,” you gasp. “You are a menace.”

Eskel laughs into your skin, low and sweet.

“Come here,” you demand.

“Impatient.”

“Always.”

He slinks up your form. You lean up to catch his lips, taste the tang of yourself on his tongue. You cradle the back of his head as he sighs into the kiss. Some part of you wonders if all Witchers are soft at the core of them, or if it’s just Eskel, kind, giving Eskel, who thinks he has little to offer based on the map of scars scrawled across his face.

His cock is heavy in your palm, all hot, silken skin. You stroke the length of him, relearn the heft and girth of him. Eskel moans into your kiss, his voice a deep rumble of noise. You huff a laugh against his lips, delighted at the noise, and twist your hand before thumbing at the head of his cock, smearing the wetness there down his length.

You trace your tongue over the pulsepoint in his neck, feel the slow, lazy river current of his heartbeat. His cock twitches in your grip. You feather your fingertips under the ridge of the head before dragging your thumb against the same spot, relishing the soft hiss that flows from Eskel’s reddened lips.

“You’re so good,” you dare to say, giving a quick upward stroke.

Eskel moans, his thighs trembling.

“Look at you,” you murmur, pressing your lips against the blade of his collarbone. He stiffens, just slightly, and you catch yourself, change the words before they leave you. “Always make me feel so good,” you say, and his shoulders unwind, the muscles of them shifting.

You would like him to weigh heavy on your tongue, close your lips around the thickness of his cock, to gaze up at him from under your lashes until he gushes hot into your mouth. Eskel shies from it, though, and you are wary of pushing him too hard. You know that your bold mouth sometimes hammers where delicacy is needed.

You can feel his abs flexing against your knuckles each time you drag your hand up the length of his cock. When you nudge at him, Eskel sits back on his knees. His amber eyes gleam gemlike in the light, and you are again struck by the beauty of him, the strong sculpture of his features.

Eskel’s brow knits as you push to your knees as well, your legs quivering like a newborn fawn. “Are you sure?” he asks

You drape yourself over him like a silken cloak, settling just over his hips. “Yes,” you say, guiding his cock to your cunt. “I told you - I want your cock. I rarely change my mind.”

The way the head of his cock spreads you knocks the breath from your lungs. Your nerves sing with starsong, something bright and vast trickling through you, crackling just under your skin. Eskel steadies you as you sink down on him, as he splits you around his cock. He gazes up at you with his sungold eyes, so stark against the deep brown of his dark hair, and you think of how the sun gives life, how it shines on others to nourish them.

He closes his eyes as you lean down to press your forehead against his. His lips part slightly, and you drag your thumb over the curve of them. Eskel turns just enough to press a kiss against your palm. Your stomach twists with something you can’t quite think about as you are filled with him, as your cunt flutters around his cock.

“Eskel,” you say quietly, softly sweet, but you lose the rest of your words as he kisses you, his mouth fervent and consuming.

You shift your hips. His cock drags against your walls, warms your veins with that biting pleasure, and his hands tighten on your hips. You remember the girth of him well, but the memories pale compared to the feel of him spearing deep, until it feels like there is nothing but him. His cock pulses as you flutter around him, clenching down tight on the weight of his cock.

“Please,” you breathe, catching his lips in a kiss, rising onto your knees until just his tip is caught in your hole, the thick head stretching you wide. You drop back down onto his cock and you are already trembling. Lightning crackles beneath your skin. Eskel huffs a breath as you tighten around him, your cunt velvet around his length.

You lean forward and press your face into the junction of his shoulder and neck. The rhythm of your hips is a slow current, rising and falling like the ocean tide. Your breath is shaky against Eskel’s sweat-slick skin. His hand nestles into the hair at the nape of your neck, and he guides you back up so that you are looking down at him, a witness to his worship.

“Eskel.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, gazing up at you as if you are the stars, something vast and unknowable above him. His fingers tighten on your hips, the pads of them digging into the plush flesh, and with a flash of that intense strength, he moves you.

Eskel rocks up into you, fucks up hard into the clench of your cunt. His hips are steady with each hard push. He feels immense, as if you are molten metal in his forge of his desire, his to mold and reshape. You can feel each throb of his cock, feel him swell inside you. Hazily, beneath the fog of it all, you think that Eskel will always be under your skin, will line the edges of you for the rest of your life.

You set your teeth against the salt of his skin, some part of you desperate to see that you sink as deeply into his skin as he has into yours. He grits out a moan. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you down into his thrusts, rolling his hips to catch the head of his cock on the spot deep inside your cunt that slides a knife of pleasure through you.

“So good,” you mumble breathily against him, tightening around him with each push of his hips. “Gods, Eskel, please.”

He whispers something you can’t quite hear, and then his hand is slipping between you both. You sob as he draws a tight circle over your clit, your nerves singed beneath the heat of his touch. Eskel presses a soft kiss against your lips as you clench viciously around him, the velvet of your cunt unrelenting, and you shatter.

“Fuck,” Eskel hisses, and underneath the lightning strike of your own consuming pleasure, you can feel the way his abs tighten against you. He pulses inside of you, each twitch of his cock searing through you. He spills hot and thick in you, your cunt fluttering around him, his thighs tense beneath you. His groan is long and heated, a bonfire of sound.

He catches your face in his hands, pulls you into a heated, messy kiss. There are little strikes of lightning still flickering across your skin. Eskel is throbbing in you, small spurts of cum still spilling into your cunt. The coiled muscles of his thighs flex and quiver beneath you.

The two of you spend a moment just breathing. He brushes his fingers against your jaw, his touch delicate.

“Menace,” you tell him, voice soft.

Eskel pulls you into another kiss to hide his smile.

It’s easy to get lost in him, to be carried off in the steady kindness of him. He kisses you sweetly, the corner of his mouth soft with something secret. You groan when he pulls out of you, the blade of sensation a true cut now.

Eskel coaxes you to curl up on the bed. He rises, and you only have enough energy to voice a wordless complaint, trying to catch him by the wrist and pull him back to you.

“Just a moment, sweetling,” he says, but you can hear the laugh lining his voice. You crack an eye open to glare at him.

You’d thought he would know, considering his enhanced senses, but you don’t think he’s expecting your gaze, considering the look on his face. Eskel is perhaps the most reverent lover you’ve had, but softness painted across his visage as he peers down at you steals your breath away. It’s something gossamer, a thin, shining spider’s thread woven into an intricate web of emotion that Witchers aren’t meant to feel.

He doesn’t seem to realize it, though, that he is laid bare to you for just a breath, and you close your eyes as he turns away. He returns to the bed with a cloth and you wipe each other as clean as you can.

You collapse back onto the bed, already aching, and peer up at him. Eskel slips into the bed and curls around you. His scars shine red in the afternoon light, and he is beautiful. You hope that one day, you can tell him that. But today, you cannot, so you simply say: “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Eskel says, his voice petal-soft.

You drowse in the patch of sunlight illuminating your bed, your fingers tracing soft circles on Eskel’s skin, feeling contentment settle over you like a blanket. It is quiet, and sweet, and in the silence of affection, the two of you are united.

At least until Lil’ Bleater expresses her annoyance with the front door being closed with a series of particularly loud bleats.

All you can do is laugh.

taglist: @witchernonsense @hina-chans-stuff @whitewolfandthefox @raspberrydreamclouds @riviawitch3r @tutuwho @restingnurseface @ambivertomnivore

#eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagine #nsft

396 notes · View notes

order-of-river-phoenix · 4 years ago

Note

I could use a good story. Can i ask for a little nix fic? Maybe one where his gf thinks hes cheating cuz hes been avoiding her but really hes super nervous about proposing to her?

Not According To Plan; Lewis Nixon

Fandom: HBO War; Band of Brothers

A/N: not me coming back from the dead with a 1K+ word imagine oop- anyway... My inspiration to write has been negative lately so I wrote this over the course of a couple weeks, and I’m so sorry this took so long! I hope you like it tho. Also, Y/N/N = your nickname

Warnings: none :) but it gets a lil sketchy on the angst front; FEMALE reader

Taglist: @liebegott @stressedinadress @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @teenmagazines @hbohmygodx @meteora-fc @punkgeekchic @vintagelavenderskies @hoosiers-hoe @mavysnavy @inglourious-imagines @warrior-healer @alienoresimagines @hannahbear1 @easy-company-tradition @wexhappyxfew

(Let me know if you either want to be taken off/added to the taglist; also let me know if you’ve changed your url so that I can be sure I’m tagging you)

__________

"I was thinking dinner," you said into the receiver. "And possibly a walk?"

"I'd love to, Y/N/N..." Lewis started.

You held your breath for the-

"But I'm busy tonight. I've got some things to finish up. How's tomorrow?"

"I've got work tomorrow," you reminded him, hoping he might give in.

"Right." He breathed a curse just barely audible. "I'll make it up to you, alright? Next day you don't work."

You sighed, realizing he was dead set in his own plans for the evening. The romantic urges that had been tugging at your heart began to gain some slack. "Alright. I'll see you then."

The next date was a spontaneous visit to his house with food.

"Y/N," he stammered, surprised by your appearance at his door. He kissed you in greeting before letting you in. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I missed you," you pouted, holding out the bags of food you were carrying. "I brought lunch, so you can't tell me to leave because I know you haven't made anything to eat."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." He took the bags from you and into the kitchen.

"More than one I hope," you scoffed.

He gave you a sly smirk and was about to say something else just as the phone rang, cutting him off. "I'll be right back." He kissed you before leaving the kitchen to answer the phone in the hall.

Taking the moment of his preoccupation to plate the food, you hummed to yourself as you scooped green beans onto two plates.

"Listen, not now," Lew's voice carried in from the hall. "This isn't a good time. I'll call you back later. Alright, bye."

His tone concerned you, but you weren't going to grill him. If he wanted you to know what it was about, he'd tell you.

Incidentally, he did not want to divulge because when he reappeared in the kitchen, he wore an unreadable expression but made no mention of the short-lived conversation he just had. "Lunch looks great, sweetheart." A smile stretched across his face and you momentarily forgot about what you had heard. "Don't skimp me on those potatoes."

__________

Another cancelled date. It was just supposed to be a night out to the movies, but Lew had called to say he needed to stay late at work.

"Babe, I'm sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine," you assured him, though once again, you felt yourself deflate. "You don't need to apologize for being busy. I get it. Don't work too hard, alright?"

"Next time," he said, "I promise."

"I love you. Be safe getting home."

"I love you too, Y/N/N." He waited for you to hang up before letting out an anxious breath. The idea of lying to you made his skin itch, and he was burning right now. He ran a hand over his face and got up from his desk.

"I didn't know you were staying late," Delia, the secretary, commented seeming to have appeared out of nowhere. "Is there some new project you're working on?"

Momentarily startled by her sudden presence, Lew shook his head. "I'm not staying late." He got up from his desk and grabbed his coat. "In fact, I'm leaving now. I've got reservations to make."

"But you just..." her voice trailed off just as her eyes widened. "Sir, not to pry, but does this have anything to do with the thing that I definitely did not see on your desk a while back?"

"Yes," he replied, slipping his arms into the coat.

Her jaw dropped. "Does Dick know?"

The look he gave her made her facepalm.

"What am I saying? Of course, Dick knows."

"Delia, I really do have to go," he reminded her. He stopped for a moment. "Please don't mention this to anyone."

"Mum's the word," she promised as he rushed out.

__________

It had been over a week since you had spent any real time with your boyfriend, and you were growing more nervous and self-conscious by the day. There were thoughts that you couldn't help but entertain, even against your better judgement. As much as you wanted to push these thoughts away, they gnawed at the pit of your stomach at any given moment.

But out of the blue, Lew called.

"I know you don't work today—I called and checked—so I'll be over in half an hour to come get you. I figured I still owe you that dinner and walk."

As happy as you were to accept, your anxiety grew as you got yourself ready. You shed a few stray tears but primarily held yourself together. Your thoughts persisted as you heard the knock at the door.

“How’s my best girl?”

You offered him a tight smile. “You mind stepping in a minute? I’m not quite ready to go.”

He followed you back into the living room of your small apartment.

Trying not to choke on your words, you finally managed to spit it out. "Why have you been avoiding me?" You feared the answer, and the look on his face didn't ease your anxiety.

"Avoiding you? Have I been..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the hurt you were trying to conceal. He closed his eyes, releasing a breath. "I'm so sorry."

"I want you to be honest with me, Lewis." Your expression hardened at the sound of what you thought was a confession. "Are you seeing someone else?"

He blinked incredulously at you before sputtering out, "What? You're joking right?" He wanted to laugh, but he knew it wasn't the time. Instead he pulled you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. "In retrospect, I see how you could have thought that, but I swear that's not it."

You pried free from his embrace, still not entirely convinced. "Then why the secrecy? Why the phone calls and late nights and cancelled plans?"

"There goes my surprise," he mumbled. He sighed before lightly sitting on the edge of the couch, beckoning you to join him. When you did, he looked pleadingly into your eyes. "I was... dammit. I was so nervous about asking you, and I guess subconsciously I avoided you to keep from doing it too early."

"Doing what?" It came out harsher than you had intended, but your patience was wearing thin. "What were you going to ask me?" The vaguest idea of what it could be formed in the back of your mind, but your skepticism was refusing to let it grow.

"I wanted to propose," he admitted gently. "I had the perfect spot picked out. Dick helped me practice the speech I was going to give leading up to it down pat. I've had the ring for... a while. But every chance I had to move in the right direction, I got scared."

That little inkling that had formed was yelling "Told you so!" And you felt your heart melt immediately. "You were going to propose to me?"

He nodded, suddenly looking more nervous than you'd ever seen him. "Would you say yes?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Are you asking?"

He gave you a sideways glance before moving from his place on the coach to bended knee in front of you. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Absolutely," you practically gushed. Even expecting it, your heart raced at the sound of the words. You flung your arms around him, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry for-“

“Shhh...” he coaxed, rubbing your back. “Don’t apologize, baby. Let this be a happy moment.” He loosened himself from your embrace to look at you. “I just want you to be happy.”

“If I get to be with you for the rest of my life, then I’ll be happier than I’ve ever been.”

#band of brothers #mariah writes: band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x reader #band of brothers imagine

60 notes · View notes

xhanisai · 5 years ago

Text

#LetMarinetteDrinkCoffee2K19

Uploaded on A03 and FFN.net

~(x)~

Thirty-six hours.

She has been awake for:

Thirty.

Six.

Hours.

She, along with the ever so loyal Chat Noir have taken down sixteen akumas in a span of three days. Just after battling the first five, the duo were knackered beyond words, grumpier than edgy brutes in Hollywood films and definitely stuck with panda eyes, covered by their masks. Chat Noir dropped the puns in exchange for a more...colourful set of vocabulary, which Ladybug would have scolded him for on a normal day; they're meant to be role models for children after all.

Moreover, her infamous clumsiness from her civilian side has gradually seeped into her vigilant half, making the fights harder to battle and probably causing her partner more distress than help. Scratch that- she definitely caused him a lot of distress. She collapsed from a roof into La Seine from exhaustion after releasing her cleansing light. The dirty, freezing water and the sound of Chat's desperate screams gained her another twelve hours of consciousness. (The ten minute lecture and yelling from him afterwards may have helped too but no way in hell was she going to admit that). "I can't go to sleep just like that Chat...I have school in a few hours..."

"Then skip it! Tell your parents that you're sick or something- just PLEASE get some sleep, Bug."

"I have an important test-"

"Important my ass- your health is top priority here!"

"So is yours!"

"I'm used to staying awake for so long,"

"LISTEN UP NOIR! IF I'M GONNA SLEEP, SO WILL YOU. IF YOU STAY AWAKE, SO WILL I. SO STOP YELLING AT ME-"

Of course, the pair were interrupted by another god forsaken akuma and they violently swore at Le Papillon and his never ending madness. Ladybug muttered out very morbid things such as how she was going to skin the old man alive once she gets his miraculous or something like that.

This was all two hours ago.

Marinette was on her last legs now as she struggled to get up the stairs to her form room. Quickly chugging on her tenth energy drink, Marinette disposed the can somewhere secretly (they're banned in school after all) and flopped down onto the nearest desk. She inhaled sharply, reaching for the travel mug she secured in her bag, filled with the most sweetest, sugary, coffee one could ever have. Tikki mustered up the energy to pat Marinette's collarbones with her frazzled paw, hiding in her dark turtleneck collar rather than the purse for once in order to warm up.

A few more minutes passed but they felt like seconds to the heroine in disguise, nuzzling her mug. She internally prayed that taking three showers in a row managed to get rid of the disgusting river smell out of her hair before dashing out of the house. That thought process was interrupted when she clipped the mug's lid off. She smiled for the first time in twenty-four hours and pursed her lips for a sip.

"Girl? You're early again? Wow!" Alya's energetic voice was like a slap against her face, almost causing the poor girl to drop her life saving beverage. She sent her best friend a pitiful pout, ignorant to the rush of her classmates heading to their seats. The mass majority of them gave their class president a surprised look, wondering if pigs will start flying next at the sight of her early presence. Though, there was some tension by the others, no thanks to the recent incident between Lila and Marinette's 'supposed' stealing and bullying.

"Mmhm..." Marinette warmed her cheek with the mug, hoping that the brunette could take a hint and let her indulge in the diabetes level of sugar. She almost didn't feel Alya's fingers smoothing against her pale forehead, brushing away the dark fringe with a frown on her face. She then placed a hand on her flushed cheek, shaking her head.

"Marinette, you don't look very well. You haven't been well for days. I think you should go home..." Alya was prepared for Marinette's spiteful snort, countering the blue eyed glare with her fond hazel pair. "I studied my butt off for this physics test and won't rest till I get it over and done with. Maman and Papa said that if I get full marks, they'll lift the energy drinks ban off me." The Asian pursed her lips childishly and ignored Alya's gaping face before going in for the coffee which has been torturing her poor nose with its sinful scent.

With a speed that could rival a blue hedgehog, Alya swiped the mug out of Marinette's hands. The latter reacted quite late, blinking a few times with confusion before realising what happened.

"Alya-aaaaaa..." Marinette flopped tiredly on the desk, chibi tears running down her eyes whilst she pathetically reached out for her saving grace. "Ple-eeeeeease..." "If your parents have banned you from energy drinks then I bet that they won't appreciate you drinking coffee either." Alya's frown deepened at Mari's cries.

"Let DC have her caffeine, Cesaire." Kim whooped from the back, joined by a few agreements by Nathaniel, Mylene and Rose. "She looks like shit, no offense 'nette." The boy only received a thumbs up from Marinette and a scowl from Alya. Alix simply observed with her lips sealed. Confusion wracked through her head as she evaluated the events so far. Marinette was too tired to give a damn.

"I don't know Le Chien, I've been tailing our heroes for the past few days with little sleep so I think maybe I should drink this instead and send my girl home." Alya chuckled and ate up the sight of Marinette's torn face.

"No-ooooooooo! You can't drink up the only thing I'm living for! Don't you understand? Without that cup, that specific cup of coffee, I will no longer go on. All my happiness and dreams will be crushed! My will to breathe this wretched polluted air will be dissipated and then you all will have to pay for my funeral and live on without me because ALYA DRANK MY SOUL!"

Marinette was so tired, she was delusional. The filter was gone and her limp form pretty much melted on the desk with sadness. Alya almost gave in.

"Well!" Nino's voice piped up from the doorway, walking in with a dead looking model following him like a chick. "Guess our lil' Dudette robbed my seat, again. What next? You gonna rob my locker too?" Lahiffe snickered when Marinette flipped out her middle finger at him, refusing to lift her head up from the table. A few others giggled as well whilst Nino dramatically fell to his knees, yelling how he was so 'wounded' and couldn't believe the sweetest girl in the world had the balls to do that to him!

Adrien on the other hand, let his lips upturn for the first time in a day, fondly and shook his head. He definitely knew how the girl was feeling- oh boy. If anyone could relate to her now, it was him.

He made way to her, encasing his hand over hers, beckoning her to lower her finger with a playful tut. Marinette shivered at the feel of his silver ring against her skin.

"Now, now, it's rude to pull a gesture like that. No matter how much Nino deserved it," Adrien ignored his best friend's betrayed 'Hey!' and laughed warmly. Seeing Marinette woke him up more than the pathetic cup of coffee in his hand. He felt his heart skip a beat when she slowly lifted her head up to meet his gaze.

"Can I toss him out of the windows instead?" Her tone was so innocent, it was like she was asking if she could borrow a pencil. Adrien giggled out a 'No', his smile never leaving and squeezed her hand. Marinette dropped her head back down with a groan that sounded like 'Coffeeeeee'.

"Alya?"

"No, Adrien."

"She looks like she really needs it,"

"What she needs is a warm, toasty bed with fluffy pillows and her giant cat monster teddy, Mr. Cat."

"Nino-oooo, please help me persuade your girlfriend. I'm too tired for this."

Adrien collapsed on the seat, right next to Marinette, playfully flopping against her. He sipped his cup, eyes still closed. On any other day, Marinette would have freaked out five minutes ago. Now? She's too tired to think let alone move or speak. Nino and Alya bickered whilst the rest of the class (save for Chloe who scoffed) cooed internally at Marinette and Adrien.

"I'd let you have my coffee but this is as bitter and black as Mm. Mendelieve's soul," He earned a cute snigger from his twin tailed friend. She unconsciously moved closer to the blonde, clutching his cardigan's sleeve, half asleep. Adrien relished every touch, beaming. Though he could have sworn that Rose piped out a 'So cute!' at the back. The thought left as soon as it came. He focused on Marinette's scent and her warmth, tempted to sleep against her again. That's what friends do, right?

"I wouldn't be...able to take a sip of that without...gagging," Marinette shook her head quickly to stop nodding off. "Mine has fifteen teaspoons of sugar, lots and lots of cream, caramel, chocolate sauce, whipped cream and sprinkles..." She admitted quietly, blind to Adrien's choked face. Maybe it's a good thing Alya took that away from her!

"Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack? Diabetes? A food coma?" His shock was quickly replaced by her pitiful eyes. "D-Don't cry please-" "I just wanted to stay awake..." She peered at her coffee in Alya's hand so longingly, bottom lip jutted out (Adrien had the urge to kiss it but he quickly knocked that thought back). "I also really like...sweet things..."

"You're sweet enough already, Princess," Quickly, Adrien slapped his hand against his mouth, eyes widening at how the words slipped out. He blinked rapidly a few times before sighing in relief. Marinette didn't seem to have caught it and the others were too busy watching Nino and Alya argue. Curse his sleep deprivation...

"Princess...?" The model gulped as Mari continued. "Heh...I really like that nickname...reminds me of Chat Noir," Her lips curled into a peaceful smile and her eyes glazed even further. Adrien's demeanour softened, the subtle 'o' of his mouth curbed into the sweet smile his lips love turning into when Marinette's around.

"He has good taste. It is very fitting for the most awesome, amazing, kind girl to have the title of a princess," The boy mused. He gave a cheeky wink which prompted Marinette to roll her eyes playfully.

'Yes! Look how comfortable she is around me now! This is what I've been waiting for ever since I came here! A proper one on one Marinette time~!' Adrien celebrated internally.

"Then, since Alya and Nino act like a married couple all the time," His eyes flickered to the still squabbling pair, fussing over Marinette, before back at the petite girl. "They could be your parents, the King and Queen,"

Marinette hummed with amusement, her lips turning into a familiar smirk. For some reason, he knew she was going to banter back. He couldn't explain why.

"Then Chat Noir could be my Knight, considering how he's always used the 'I'm your Knight in shining leather' comment," Adrien felt his cheeks involuntarily redden. "And you could be..."

The older teen leaned closer to her face.

"I could be...?"

"...my..."

"Your?"

"...my prince-"

"Marinette!"

Blonde boy and Noir girl snapped out of their bubble, along with the rest of the class. They all simultaneously gasped as the Italian transfer student leaned against the door timidly.

Her left cheek had a huge, purple bruise and her arms were covered in bandages. Everyone looked at her with concern whilst Adrien cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. Marinette merely blinked.

"You...you're de-akumatised now...right?" Lila clutched her arms, hugging herself to make her smaller. Almost the whole class flinched and gawked at the designer. Alya narrowed her eyes in confusion, Nino cocked his head but Adrien...

He was fucking livid. A solid ten minutes before class, six days after her last stunt, this brat dares to antagonise Marinette again!?

Marinette let out a dumb "eh?", blinking repeatedly.

"I-I know you were mad about how I caught you cheating a while ago...but I didn't expect you to be akumatised and attack me yesterday night!" Lila burst out crying. "Why didn't Ladybug's healing powers work...why am I still hurt!" She clutched her cheek, enacting how much pain she's in.

Perhaps a week or two ago, the class would have leapt for Lila's side. However, everyone had a feeling that something's not right, something's not adding up. This feeling has been building up ever since Lila's arrival but they all seem to have brushed it away.

"I got akumatised?" Marinette rubbed her eyes and blinked at Lila again. Any other day, the girl would have leapt for her own defense. Right now, she was way out of it.

Sweet, innocent Rose furrowed her eyebrows too.

"Hold on- hold up! I've tailed every single akuma that's happened so far. There's only been sixteen these past three or four days and none of them involved you or Mari." Alya slammed the coffee down on the desk, oblivious to the Asian girl's twinkling eyes and soft "coffeeeee~". Adrien kept a protective grip on Marinette's upper arms, venturing closer, trying to keep her behind him, as if shielding her. His eyes turned acidic and rage boiled over.

"That's because she lured me out in the outskirts! She had giant needles and she looked so scary-" Lila let out a loud whimper. "It took hours for Ladybug and Chat Noir to defeat her!"

"Oho? I want giant needles...then I can stab Le Papillon with it and then I can finally sleep at night~" Marinette was painfully oblivious to her class' incredulous stares as she made googly eyes with the coffee. Nino sighed and took away the mug, placing it on Mm. Bustier's desk and then glared at Lila. No one paid mind to Marinette's suffering.

"Certainly I can't catch every single akuma, however, we've only seen the cleansing lights sixteen times. Thus, either you were hallucinating-"

"I wasn't! Where'd you think I got these injuries from!?"

"-Or! It was a non-akuma that attacked you. Some freaky criminal from the sounds of it. Ladybug's powers can't heal you if you were injured from anything other than an akuma." Alya then marched towards Marinette, sheltering her slightly too. "This girl has a terrible sense of direction so it's impossible for her to have dragged you to the outskirts and make it in time for school." Marinette simply sighed, paying zero attention to them.

She tried using her mind to get the coffee closer to her but turns out, she's not telekinetic.

If Lila was smart, she would have agreed with Alya and made up a story of the supposed criminal that attacked her. It would have bought her the coddling she wanted at the very least. However, it seems that Le Papillon's akumas kept her up at night too, making words slip out of her tongue before her brain could fully comprehend them.

"I swear on my sweet, dead grandmother's life, Alya! It was Marinette! I know it was! Would I ever lie to you?" She clutched her chest. "Even Rena Rouge and Carapace fought her too. Marinette was so strong...so evil...I think she's working with Le Papillon..."

Silence.

Not a single sound was heard.

Everyone held their breaths.

Internally, Lila panicked. Why wasn't everyone jumping to her side? Why was everyone so quiet? Dammit- why isn't everyone berating that damn blue eyed bitch and catering towards her!?

"Now that I think about it," Max broke the silence. Adrien, Alya and Nino immediately whipped their heads towards him, eyes wide with multiple emotions. Each of them were coming up with ways to make his death look like an accident along with Lila's if he bought the lie.

"I think I saw that horse boy running around too...what was his name again? Peggy...Pugo..." Max could have fooled strangers with his confused, calculating expression but his close friends knew way better.

Game on.

"Yes! Peggy! He was there too!" Lila exclaimed and then whimpered loudly, bringing her arms together, as if she was in agony. "He saved me! Otherwise...I'd have...lost my head...Marinette was so close to..."

"Is that so?" Adrien's voice was like thunder. It wasn't that he was loud, no; he was very startling instead. A tone which no one but Lila has heard before when he threatened her not too long ago. An icy chill was sent down everyone's spine and his emerald eyes gleamed with bloodlust. "Please do tell us more, what did our everyday Ladybug do in her akumatised state?" He wrapped an arm around her possessively. Alya and Nino stood closer to them.

Lila's face almost darkened with indignation but she quickly fixed it with the kicked puppy expression. She took a step back, clutching a fist to her chest.

"W-Why are you guys acting like this...Max? Alix? Are you seeing this? I think those four are against me now too-"

"But at least that weird monkey one was around to help you, right? If Marinette was THAT strong then I bet Ladybug and Chat Noir called the entire cavalry." Alix rested her chin on her clasped hands, glaring at the four people down. Only Lila missed the playful bump Kim and Max gave on her back.

"Y-Yes! Also the lizard, the hare and the erm...pigeon? Marinette almost won...she could have devastated Paris- no...the world! I think that's why Ladybug wasn't able to use her cleansing light- she was beaten black and blue..." Everyone else started to mutter, causing Lila to almost smirk victoriously. 'Yes...that's right, keep this up,' She cackled in her mind.

"Excuse me!" Marinette finally shouted, standing up with hands on hips. Lila's heart almost burst in excitement. Finally some fuel for her fodder! More ways to isolate Dupain Cheng! "The only devastation here is how no one's letting me drink my coffee! Nino just give me it!"

She didn't expect the smack upside behind her head from Alya, making her yelp in surprise. The bespeckled girl grabbed Marinette by the shoulders and yelled.

"YOU IDIOT GIRL! YOU'RE BEING ACCUSED OF TRYING TO MURDER ROSSI AS AN AKUMA WHILST PULVERISING TEAM MIRACULOUS IN PROCESS YET ALL YOU CAN THINK ABOUT IS A PUDDLE OF CAFFEINE FOR A DUMB MOCK TEST THAT WON'T AFFECT OUR GRADES!?"

She shook her shoulders harder, muddling Marinette's mind up even further. Adrien stammered, trying to break them up whilst Nino and the class watched with delight. They didn't miss the appalled expression Lila threw.

The way everyone brushed her off...the poor, injured...pitiful girl!

"A-A-A-AL-Y-A-A-A!" Alya finally stopped her torture and let Marinette flop into her arms. Marinette let out a groan, swirls in her eyes and the class burst out laughing.

"You did it Alya! You beat the akuma! You're a true hero!" Rose squealed out as Juleka chimed with a "Way past cool". Playing along, Alya straightened out the collar of her polar shirt, mock pride on her face with a smug smile plastered on. She handed Marinette to Adrien's waiting arms and stalked towards the back of the room.

"W-What-" Lila didn't get a chance to finish her sentence.

"Miraculous Alya Charm!" The brunette hollered, tossing a pen in the air with a cheesy grin. Kim and Alix made whooshing noises, as if to mimic the sounds of rushing magic ladybirds and everyone else cheered. "Your injuries should all be healed up now Lila! Good on ya~ now, Nino, it's time to bring that Theo artist and get him to make a statue of me for the park-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

Lila was now huffing and puffing. Raw animosity shone in her eyes, hands clenched into fists by her sides, knuckles whitening and teeth gritted. Adrien didn't try to hide his devilish smirk and the oddly quiet Chloe folded her arms, awaiting for the girl to show her true colours. Alas, lack of sleep made a slower, more frustrated Lila.

"I'm here, injured, traumatised! Ladybug was almost killed! This...THIS WITCH-" She pointed venomously at the knocked out Marinette in Adrien's arms. "Tried to kill ME! And you all don't care!? You're all worse than Chloe!" More crocodile tears ran down her cheeks...

Though they ran down as purple drips, somehow cleaning away the bruise? My, what magical tears indeed. Mylene and Ivan quickly opened a group chat (sans Lila and Marinette) to arrange years worth of apologies for their class president. They could be old and grey at one point but they'll still find a way to apologise to the sweet angel.

"You see Lila, everyone knows that's not true," Adrien purred out, sitting down against the chair like a spoilt royalty with a beautiful girl in his arms- who would kick everyone's asses in one go. He summoned a bit more of his inner Chat Noir.

"How would you know!? You weren't there, Adrien!" Lila hissed, banging a fist against the door. Weren't her arms in agony again?

"I suppose, but," He tucked a hair behind Marinette's ear with a grin.

"I was with her, all night,"

Everyone let out a dramatic, yet fake gasp, clutching their cheeks whilst Chloe let out a little cry "Adrikins how could you~!", one arm over her head whilst Sabrina fanned her with a book. Lila paled and sweat dripped down her face. She shook her head slightly, taking a step back.

"W-W-What do you mean? What were you doing?"

"Well, what else would two, unsupervised teenagers be doing all night? Why do you think we're so tired?" He played with Marinette's hair, smile widening. His peripheral vision caught Alya with her phone whipped out, probably not too long ago.

"T-That's a lie...you're just saying that to protect Marinette...your father would never let you out of the house at night, let alone with a no named wench like her!"

"Do I need to show my hickies as proof?" Adrien had a big bruise on his collarbone from falling onto his roof when coming home, lack of sleep messing with his coordination. It was dark enough to be mistaken as a love bite and the boy was never more grateful for it than he was now.

"Whoa du-uuuude- keep it child friendly here!" Nino winked.

"Enough of my love life now," Adrien's smile was wiped off and the dangerous frown was back on.

Lila gulped as everyone else followed suit. Some were close to exploding on the spot whilst others wore a look of pure disappointment and sadness.

"Can't you see? The gig's up Lila. You've lost. We all know you've been bullshitting from the start- well some of us anyways," His gaze swept over the class who looked terribly sheepish for a moment before reverting back to their intimidating stances. "Take a seat over there," He beckoned to the lone chair that Chloe kicked out at the front, quickly adjusting Marinette to rest her head on his lap so that she remained hidden.

"What if I don't want to." The Italian sneered, itching to run down the head teacher's office and come up with a way to save her sorry ass. If there's one thing she refuses to do, it's to accept defeat. No matter how high the odds are against her.

"I believe you don't have a choice, Rossi." He admonished, hands clasped against his mouth similarly to Alix not too long ago. "Don't make me pull a Chloe Bourgeois here and make your fucking life miserable by getting my father involved. I'm tired as hell and no one has got the time to humour you anymore. Take. A. Seat."

Keeping her steely gaze on his frame, Lila made way to the chair, plopping down and crossing her legs, trying her best to look powerful and threatening.

"Now, you're going to sit there, keep your mouth shut till I've finished talking, you got that-"

"You think that crap's going to work on me, Adrien? Hah! My mother is an embassy. You can google that for all I care, not like the rest of you googled whatever else I've said," Her smile was like a snake slithering, making everyone else feel uncomfortable.

"Did I say you could talk? Did my earlier threats fall on deaf ears? Do you love the sound of your voice so much that you're unable to comprehend simple french words from anyone else?"

"I-"

"I said keep your mouth shut."

His tone felt like a cataclysm to her heart. Immediately she snapped her mouth shut and dug her fingers into her knees. The looming presence of everyone else didn't help either. The weight of the situation finally crept up on her and the girl realised...

She's not going to get out of this one.

"Alright, so where was I...? Oh that's it!" Adrien leaned back. "I'm going to cut the chase. We're not mad because you lied, we're mad because you hurt Marinette and tried to do so again. I want you to fess up every single thing you've done in order to hurt someone so that we can record it and send it to the teachers. We have no trust in you and we know for definite that you'll chicken out if we don't do this now." His eyes were like ice now. For the first time, you would recognise Adrien as Gabriel's son for his chilly aspects, not because of his brand.

"..."

"Lila."

"I..."

"..."

"From the moment I arrived, I kept touching you and clinging onto you,"

"I had to take ten showers that day-"

"I stole your book! And threw it away!"

"...you bitch..."

"I threatened Marinette in the bathrooms to take away all her friends, especially you. That I'd make them all turn their backs on her and she'll be alone forever. That almost worked, didn't it?"

Alix was seething on the spot, desperate to break Lila's nose. The grip that Alya had on her phone almost snapped the device in half, distraught with the suffering Marinette has been through.

"That was the day I gave her that stupid advice of taking the high road huh? Should have realised how much of a psycho you were back then instead of being scared for Marinette of you turning into an akuma and trying to kill her." His instincts screamed to cataclysm Lila right this second. "Regardless, your threat didn't really work, hm? She kept fighting,"

"And that's why I faked my injury, hid the cheat sheet in her bag and put my necklace in her locker. That's all you need to know." Lila was about to stand back up but a hand clasped her shoulder from behind. She didn't need to look up to know that the perfect manicured nails belonged to the mayor's daughter.

"I didn't dismiss you yet, and also," Adrien leaned forward. "You're hiding some things, you know why I know? Because I have connections. You're better off spilling it yourself than me getting my hands dirty, Rossi."

"..."

"Rossi."

"That day when your fencer friend got akumatised..."

"The day you lied and forced yourself into my house? Yes, carry on,"

"I teamed up with her akumatised form..."

"How and Why."

"..."

"Tell us."

Everyone took a bated breath, cold sweat dripping down their heads, anger grinding in the pit of their stomachs whilst Marinette remained blissfully asleep on Adrien's lap.

"I worked with her akumatised form to take down Ladybug and give her Adrien because I hate, HATE Ladybug! I don't regret anything I've done! Never have, never do and never will! I will rise to the top and take you all down one by one!"

The whole class erupted in an uproar.

Obscenities were roared out.

Threats were exclaimed.

Students were restrained.

Agreste watched Rossi with hate that could rival Le Papillon's for Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Chloe struck her hand out, poised to give the brat a good smack.

"Quiet!"

A hand grasped Chloe's wrist while another tipped the cool cup of coffee down her throat.

Marinette slammed the travel mug down, gently putting Chloe's wrists back to the girl and then turned towards the class. Her eyes flickered to Lila's bewildered form for a split second and then back at everyone else.

"First off, thank you Adrien, for bringing the truth to light. I suppose waiting and planning for the right moment was a better idea than going out yelling and screaming." Marinette gave him a smile full of saccharine, making his heart skip a beat or two.

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I'm the one who let it get this bad in the first place...besides, you'd have concocted up something similar had it been anyone else getting harassed by her."

"You're not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. Besides," She glanced back at the fuming girl behind her. "You've acknowledged it and sought a solution to fix it, rather than covering it up and lying," Lila's teeth were basically scraping each other.

"Marinette..."

"Second! As much as I'd love to beat her up for real like you guys, we are much, much better than this. Control your emotions or else Le Papillon will control you," Murmurs filled the room and everyone began to try calming down. "If I really was akumatised, Lila," Marinette began "I would have finished the job. So I think it's wise to not try and get me under Le Papillon's influences again," Her eyes were like ice, piercing Lila's weak frame.

"What do you mean again?" Adrien felt a rock hit the bottom of his stomach. The way Marinette flinched caused his paranoia to stir. "Marinette...?"

"Erm...when I got expelled? And also during the bathroom threat? But it's okay! I managed to outrun the bathroom butterfly- wait. I outran the butterfly but Lila got akumatised the next minute..." Marinette's eyes widened in threatening way, turning back to said girl. "You walked away all smug...so how did you get akumatised?"

Lila didn't answer.

"You're working with Le Papillon...?" Alya gasped out.

SLAM!

The force of Adrien's hands slamming the table as he shot up shocked the class once more. Alya moved in quickly to grab Marinette and keep her out of the way.

"Get out and never come back. If I ever see your face anywhere nearby, you're dead."

Lila immediately tripped out of the chair, feeling like she's been shot a thousand times by everyone's blood lusting looks. She scurried towards the door, only to crash into M. Damocles. No words needed to be exchanged by the looks of his infuriated eyes. A few other teachers, including Md. Bustier and Mendelieve crowded her. They all wore the same blistering look, beckoning Lila to follow them to the headmaster's office. They heard everything.

"I'll be back in a bit class," Md. Bustier spoke. Her voice lacked the usual cheerfulness and motherly tone.

With that said and done, the classroom door was closed.

Lila was gone.

Marinette has received justice.

Whoa...

A dizzy spell suddenly hit Marinette and Adrien, causing them both to stagger on the spot, quickly supported by their best friends as the event of what just happened came crashing down on them. Adrien was quick to recover, having managed to catch catnaps in between battles whilst Marinette took a few minutes to regain her bearings.

"Yo what the fuck just happened now..." Kim broke the silence. "The day started off good with DC getting all loopy and Agreste Jr. getting chummy with her and boom! Jr. turns into a kickass interrogator and DC pretty much admitted that she can easily kill someone!? I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE ALL SWEET AND INNOCENT!"

"Kim, you know Maman has been teaching me various forms of martial arts since I could walk. It will only take me five seconds to snap your spine in half from where I am...well, when I'm lucid anyways," Marinette squinted slightly, almost swearing that she could see stars. The others turned to Adrien for his explanation.

"...I guess watching Naruto does have its perks..." He itched his nose shyly, his cheeks flushed slightly at everyone else's groans. "YES I'M A FILTHY WEEB. DEAL WITH IT." He folded his arms defiantly. "And Father has rubbed off on me too," This, everyone accepted. Adrien turned around again to face his friends, eyebrows furrowed and sleep clouding his vision. He really was dead on his feet.

However, one thing didn't leave his mind.

"Marinette, why didn't you tell me?"

"Hm? What?" She yawned quietly.

"That you were almost akumatised when she threatened you?" Marinette picked up some cool anger in his words, recoiling back and then put her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know and I don't care. I don't need to tell you everything, hmmph!" Truth be told, Marinette didn't want to be seen as a scaredy-cat or a coward, so, she kept mum. She was also pretty hurt from everyone's actions and behaviour beforehand too and she felt really bad at the idea of making them even more guilty.

"What. Kind. Of. An. Answer. Is. That?"

"I don't appreciate your tone Monsieur,"

"And I don't appreciate yours either Mademoiselle,"

"Well tough."

Adrien sauntered towards her, hands in pockets and one eyebrow cocked. The stance and swagger was so identical to Chat Noir that Marinette swore for sure that she's hallucinating.

"It's okay to not be okay you know," He then gestured out to the rest of the class who observed. Everyone wore a weak smile. "In order to progress, we need to communicate. You're always looking after us, catering to our feelings. Let us do the same. We really want to make it up to you," He let a hand rest on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

With a sudden determination, he leaned forward and quickly brushed his lips against her cheek. Her face softened and her mouth opened in a cute gape.

"Please?"

Tears flooded Marinette's eyes, causing everyone to rush forward, hoping to calm her down. The tears never stopped streaming, no matter how much the girls dabbed her eyes with napkins.

"I...I..." Marinette began. Everyone leaned in eagerly.

"I..."

"I just realised how I never got to savour my coffee..." Marinette sniffed.

Everyone literally dropped on the floor with a groan. Of course, she wasn't lucid. She probably was never lucid from the start! Before anyone else could say anything, Alya pushed Marinette on Adrien's back, commanding him to take her home.

"Yeah sure...I think I need a day off too..." He held the snoring girl on his back, piggy style before letting out a yawn.

"Don't try anything funny with my girl~" Alya teased and ignored Chloe's bristled comments. On a normal day, Adrien would have denied this and claimed that Mari was just his friend.

This isn't a normal day.

And Adrien is tired and grumpy and sarcastic.

"Then perhaps I shouldn't mention about how yesterday was such a wild ride~"

"Agreste!"

"Bye!"

"I'm being serious!"

~(x)~

2K notes · View notes

brokutosan · 4 years ago

Text

Title. Quarantine Tales Or alternatively; Bokuto Tries Baking and Nearly Poisons His Two Roommates/Best Friends

Pairing. Bokuto Koutarou x Platonic!Reader x Kuroo Tetsurou + Minor BokuAka and Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Summary. In which a pandemic hits the world and tests the ten year long friendship between three roommates. Or; Kuroo enters quarantine as a cheeky bastard, and walks out of it as a cheeky bastard with a really pretty girlfriend.

Warnings. Manga spoilers, very strong language, and lots of sexual innuendos. Also lots of platonic cuddling and skinship. It gets kind of steamy at the end but nothing too bad. This is basically just a collection of short stories that also kind of has a plot. Fair warning: excessive use of the words ‘bro,’ ‘dude,’ and ‘man.’

Once the news of the pandemic hit Japan, the three roommates were confident they’d come out as better individuals. Maybe pick up on a new hobby, drop a few pounds (or in Bokuto’s case, gain some muscles), and just have a good time, making the best out of the worst situation. They were good at that.

At first, however, the three friends each had a different response to the news. Bokuto decided to splurge and buy everything they need and then some they didn’t (he was making bank from being a pro athlete). He was convinced that the apocalypse was going to happen soon, and that they’ll need all the rations they could get before it’s too late. Kuroo decides to confiscate his Netflix account and told him to stop watching The Walking Dead.

During the first few days Y/N easily got swept up in Bokuto’s bullshit, also convinced that the apocalypse was coming. (“Kuroo, look! The cases doubled over the last few days! Tell me that doesn’t mean something!”) But she was easier to snap out of it, mostly because she’s not as childish as Bokuto. She did, however, buy all of her favorite snacks and put them in a secret stash. (Although Kuroo figured out where it was within three days).

Kuroo is the mediator between them. He’s a man of science, so “no, Bokuto, there’s no way the infected ones are turning into zombies, now stop crying!” He also took the liberty to create schedules and laid out some ground rules on when and how they should shop for groceries and things of that sort. He also made the rule that no one joins their Zoom meetings in the living room after Bokuto walked in on his screen ass naked.

All in all, they (Kuroo) were able to set up a system that ensured Bokuto doesn’t lose his mind out of boredom and Y/N doesn’t try to kill them in their sleep.

“If aliens take over the planet do you think I could become their overlord?”

“Doubt it. You need to have the brains for it.”

“Hey! I’m pretty smart!”

“Explain the process of osmosis.”

“Fuck you, Kuroo.”

Y/N listens in on the idiotic conversation between her two roommates, not daring to speak up in fear of losing her much needed brain cells.

“Y/N! Listen to this, Kuroo doesn’t think I’m smart enough to become an alien overlord!” Bokuto sits up from his spot on their living room floor, one elbow propped up to support his body. Y/N sighs, closing her book realizing there’s no way she’ll get the peace she needed.

“Kuroo doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Bo.” It’s only been one week since the mandated quarantine started. If Y/N gives in now, then she’ll only spiral into madness as the months go by.

“Hear that, you bastard?! Y/N-chan believes in me!” Kuroo looks unamused. There’s a shit eating grin on his face that Y/N wants to wipe off. Or punch off. Whichever happens first.

“Y’know what they say, owls of a feather stick together.” Kuroo’s probably referring to the fact that both Y/N and Bokuto attended Fukurodani. Either way, he’s insulting her. Y/N is seething.

“Shut up you cocky cat!” Y/N screeches, flinging her book to his relaxed figure on the floor. Kuroo lets out a groan as the hardcover book makes contact with his groin. “Shit, there goes my future generations.”

Bokuto emphasizes with his bro, placing a protective hand over his ‘lil man.’

During the third week of quarantine, Kuroo comes down with a cold. Or maybe he got the virus. That’s what Bokuto and Y/N are currently trying to figure out.

“Kuroo, man, I searched up your symptoms here and it says you have network connectivity problems. What does that mean?” Bokuto grumbles, aggressively tapping the laptop screen. Y/N scowls at the way he’s manhandling her laptop before snatching it away from his hold.

“That’s not what that means, dumbass.” Bokuto pouts. “It means someone fucking forgot to pay for the wifi for this month.”

Y/N is glaring at her bedridden roommate through her face mask, but the rooster head throws his hands up out of innocence. “Sorry, I was too busy trying not to die!”

“So what now?” Bokuto asks, trying to cut through the tension between his two roommates. Y/N sighs in response, shutting off her laptop. “Now we just have to wait for him to sleep it off. If he has the virus then we burn his room with him in it.”

“Hey!” Kuroo tries to object. Instead what comes out is a garbled noise followed by excessive coughing and Bokuto screeching something about the ‘zombie virus infecting his home,’ and then he bolted out of Kuroo’s room.

“Whatever,” Y/N sighs, knowing Bokuto would have been useless in this situation anyways, “just try to rest. I’ll come in to check on you every now and then to bring you food. You better eat it!”

“Aw, Y/N-chan, you really care about me, huh?” Kuroo fake gushes, pressing one hand on his chest and another on his forehead. “It’s sweet how you try to act all tough.”

“Bo! Go find the lighter!”

Six weeks into the quarantine, Kuroo is over his ‘virus scare’ and now it’s Bokuto who’s sick. Correction, lovesick. It’s starting to test Y/N’s thinning patience.

“Do you think ‘Kaashi would get annoyed if I call him again?”

“Bo, you’ve been facetiming him every single day since this quarantine started. What changed?”

“He hasn’t been messaging me back the last three days! Do you think he got tired of me? Do you think he realized I’ve been in love with him and now he hates me? Do you think he hates my owl memes? Damn, I should’ve just told him before this whole thing started.” Y/N snorts. Clearly. One less headache for her. Even the sight of Kuroo breathing is starting to irk her. One time she nearly slapped him across the head for sleeping on the couch. Quarantine is doing something to her.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you answering? Oh my god, you hate me too, don’t you?” Crap. She was too absorbed in her hatred towards Kuroo’s existence that she forgot this big baby was lying down on her lap crying about something. What was it again? Akaashi hates him? Impossible.

“Impossible.” Y/N doesn’t realize she is running her hand through his two-toned hair. Bokuto hums in content. Y/N is suddenly reminded of her dog from back home. She wonders how he’s doing.

“Keiji’s like, in love with you. If anything he’s probably just drowning in work. You know how busy he gets.” Even Y/N’s not buying it. Busy or not, three days of radio silence from Akaashi has to mean something. She just doesn’t want to deal with an emo Bokuto. She decides to pass the responsibility to Kuroo.

“Bo, I bet Kuroo has some pretty good advice for ya. Remember when he had that crush on Akari-chan for all of highschool?” Bokuto shoots up with a new look of determination. He yells out a ‘you’re the best, Y/N-chan!’ over his shoulders before dashing straight to Kuroo’s room.

Y/N smiles in triumph as she receives a plethora of messages from one very angry Kuroo Tetsurou, ranging from ‘Why would you do this to me?’ to ‘I fucking hate you.’ Serves him right for finishing the ice cream.

(Later they find out that Akaashi simply broke his phone and had to wait three days to get it fixed. Bokuto was over the moon).

Sometimes Y/N wears their highschool jerseys because she thinks they’re comfortable. Some days she wears Bokuto’s. Other days she wears Kuroo’s. Today she’s wearing Bokuto’s, and Kuroo doesn’t know why it’s pissing him off.

“Oh man! That thing looks like a dress on you!” Bokuto squeals like one of his fangirls. He dashes to where she is, minding her business making toast in the kitchen, and picks her up from under her arms a la Lion King style.

“Bo! Put me down, you dumbass!” She wiggles in his hold, legs thrashing around. It’s all meaningless though. Bokuto is a pro athlete and is 190cm. Any attempts to free herself remains futile against this giant man-baby.

“Kuroo, look! So cute!” Bokuto gushes, showing her off like a baby. He lightly loosens his hold on one arm and extends his hand to bring a finger up to her cheeks. Y/N is emitting a strange aura. Kuroo suspects she’ll start tearing his ass into pieces within ten seconds.

Correction, three seconds. Because somehow she figures out how to kick behind her and shove an ankle deep into Bokuto’s groin. Now Bokuto is wriggling around on the living room floor as Y/N returns to her toast.

Kuroo finds this amusing, yet there’s a foreign feeling deep inside his chest. Is he getting sick again? He’s gonna need to check on that later.

“Ou! What ‘ya watching?”

“Your Name.”

“Huh? Bokuto Koutarou. Did you forget?”

“Dude...” Y/N stares at him in disbelief. Bokuto doesn’t notice but that’s because he’s Bokuto, and just about everything flies over his head. Instead he plops down on the couch next to her and hogs all the blanket.

“Get the fuck out! Get your own blanket!” Bokuto doesn’t reply, but he hums and opens his arms as an invitation. Ah, another platonic cuddling, as Bokuto puts it. Y/N is touch starved and she can’t deny it, so she slides closer to his lean figure and lets her head fall on his chest.

Eventually they settle in, huddling impossibly close to each other as the movie reach its tear-jerking climax. They don’t notice Kuroo walk in with a scowl on his face.

“Oh hey, bro. Wanna watch?” Bokuto notices him first, lifting his head up from the crown of Y/N’s head. Y/N finally looks over Bokuto’s chest and spots Kuroo moving around in the kitchen.

“I’m good.” Is his short answer before he trudges to his room with a loud bang! from his door. Y/N flinches a little, but pays no mind to it. Instead she directs her focus back to the movie, where another sad scene is unfolding.

The movie reaches its ending, but not before Bokuto could ask, “So, what’s the actual title of the movie?”

One peaceful afternoon Bokuto decides to take in a stray cat. Except...

“Bokuto, you fucking idiot that’s a racoon!” Y/N screeches as she climbs Kuroo’s back. The rooster head screams as he backs away from Bokuto and ‘Mr. Fluffles.’ Bokuto stares at his frightened roommates and the ‘cat’ in his hand and then back at his roommates again.

Realization strikes, and now Bokuto is screeching with the other two, holding the raccoon as far away from his body as possible.

“If you fucking drop it, I’ll kill you!” Kuroo threatens, holding onto Y/N’s arm that’s starting to dig into his throat. “Take it outside!”

“But it’s raining!”

“Bokuto!”

“It’s you or him, man!”

The two continue their little back-and-forth, not noticing the raccoon had escaped Bokuto’s grasp. But Y/N notices. And it’s heading into her room. And now she’s seeing God.

“Bokuto, gah-!” Kuroo is rudely interrupted by Y/N’s tight hold on his throat getting tighter. Before he could give her hell for attempted murder, he notices the look of horror on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Your fucking raccoon went in my bedroom!”

“Ah shit!” Both Kuroo and Bokuto scramble, the former forgetting all about the human person hanging onto his back. Said person is too scared of letting her foot touch the floor, afraid that it might be met by the furry abomination Bokuto brought home. So she kinda just...lets Kuroo run off into her room with her dangling off his neck.

“Where’d he go?!” Bokuto panics, not seeing Mr. Fluffles anywhere in his immediate vicinity. He starts flinging stuff off the ground and her table and her bed, making a huge mess in the span of ten seconds. Y/N takes one foot off of Kuroo’s waist and kicks him square in the back.

“Quit trashing my room!” She scolds like a mom. Bokuto pouts but continues looking, until they hear the quiet pitter patter of claws hitting the wooden floor. “Wait shut up!”

Y/N huffs but still complies, wanting nothing more than Mr. Fluffles gone from her room. Kuroo takes the liberty to start questioning Bokuto’s stupidity.

“How could you have possibly thought that thing was a fucking cat?!”

“In my defense, it was pretty dark outside.” Bokuto grumbles in his low and whiny voice, before firing back, “And stop calling him a ‘thing!’ Mr. Fluffles has feelings too!”

“Bokuto we’re not keeping it!” This time it’s Y/N yelling at him with fire in her eyes. The poor guy looks like he’s about to cry, but Y/N is far too gone over the thought of a raccoon making its home in her bedroom.

Bokuto lets out an ‘aha!’ as he emerges from under her bed with Mr. Fluffles. Y/N visibly relaxes knowing that the raccoon is safely contained. Until she remembers what was stashed under her bed.

“Ah, there’s something in his mouth.” Bokuto announces, holding Mr. Fluffles disgustingly close to his face. Her secret stash of snacks. The bastard got into it.

“Bokuto!!!”

(They later find out that at least four neighbors filed a noise complaint against them).

It’s two months in to the quarantine when Bokuto discovers TikTok. Within one week he’s dropped his towel in front of Kuroo, sat on Kuroo’s lap during his work Zoom meeting, smacked his gym bag across Kuroo’s face, and then some. Y/N finds humor in this, of course at Kuroo’s expense, but that’s even better.

Speaking of Kuroo and Y/N. Lately there’s been undeniable tension between his two roommates, and Bokuto doesn’t know how to resolve it. Everytime he tries to get them to talk they end up arguing.

He’s asked Akaashi for advice, but Akaashi simply told him to let them resolve it amongst themselves. Bokuto does not have the patience for that. He’s scared their meaningless arguments might rip a tear into their ten year long friendship.

So Bokuto does what he thinks is best, bake them cookies! No one could possibly be in a bad mood while eating freshly baked cookies, even Bokuto is drooling at the thought. So with a new resolve, Bokuto scrolls through his new favorite app (TikTok) to find some good recipes. Because TikTok has all the answers.

Except when he bakes the cookies he later finds out he used two cups of salt instead of sugar. He doesn’t know how that happened, but it could be because he grabbed the first white substance he saw and dumped it in the bowl.

Kuroo and Y/N somehow found a way to blame each other. Bokuto is reaching his limits.

Bokuto calls for an emergency meeting. He needs help deciding whether or not he should drop 40,000¥ on the Animal Crossing Limited Edition Switch that comes with Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

Y/N says go for it because she’s secretly plotting on stealing it the moment he gets tired of the game (which knowing Bokuto, would be fairly quick). Kuroo objects because Bokuto blew 50,000¥ last month buying shit he didn’t need for the quarantine.

And now there’s a fullblown argument between the two. Bokuto is reminded of his parents, except their fights never got this hostile and he’s pretty sure his mom never called his dad a “rooster-hair bastard!” He’s too scared to cut in. He thinks they might cut off his head. So he decides to sneakily crawl back into his room.

He ends up ordering the switch anyways, and when it arrives a week later Kuroo calls Y/N a bad influence. They argue again.

Bokuto has an epiphany.

Two days after Bokuto’s epiphany, they take a trip to the supermarket. Bokuto wants to drive but he can’t because his license got revoked after he ran through five consecutive red lights. Kuroo tells him this but he gets pouty so Kuroo had to buy him ice cream on the way there to get him to shut up.

So now Bokuto is slobbering up Kuroo’s car, much to the latter’s distaste. It isn’t until Kuroo brake checks him and Bokuto slams the ice cream on his face, does Kuroo show a look of content. Bokuto pays no mind, and decides to bring up his recent epiphany.

“So, bro, when are ya gonna tell Y/N you’re in love with her?” Kuroo slams his foot on the brakes again, this time out of shock. “I - uh - what - what did you just say?”

“Oh man,” Bokuto lets out a boisterous laugh while licking the ice cream that dripped down his shirt (gross), “you didn’t know?!”

“You two have had this sexual tension between you brewing for weeks! It’s like - I could actually cut through it with a knife, like a piece of pie or something!”

“I hate everything you just said.”

“Whatever man, just let me know if you want me gone for the night. I’ll even come up with a good excuse.” He winks, and Kuroo resists the urge to crash the car into a tree.

Bokuto’s words affect Kuroo a lot more than he would like to admit. Ever since that fateful trip to the supermarket with his owl-eyed friend, Kuroo’s been too wary of his other roommates existence. He wants to prove Bokuto wrong. He, Kuroo Tetsurou, is not in love with L/N Y/N, his best friend since his first year of highschool.

L/N Y/N is one of the guys! That’s like saying he likes Bokuto (Kuroo bites back his disgust). And Kuroo doesn’t like Bokuto, thank you very much.

Except L/N Y/N is not Bokuto.

L/N Y/N is his endless highschool memories that he always goes back to on a bad day. She is going to the beach during the summer and playing in the ocean until they tire themselves out. She’s like a warm hug that welcomes him after a long and tiring say. She’s like the rock that was flung at his ex’s window after she cheated on him with some other guy. She’s like the fun he’s had during the summer away games, where he got to play volleyball with his friends for one week straight. She’s like taking the long way home just so he could walk back with her. L/N Y/N is his best friend.

No, Y/N is not all those things. She is, however, the person he’s shared those memories with. The person Kuroo could say one hundred percent, without a doubt, knows him best (aside from Bokuto and maybe his mom). She’s the person that’s always been there through thick or thin, for ten years and counting.

Oh god. Kuroo Tetsurou is in love with L/N Y/N.

Bokuto has a plan in mind. A plan to help his two best friends hook up (and maybe date afterwards). Bokuto tells Akaashi his plans but Akaashi tells him all his plans are moronic, so he goes to his teammates Hinata and Atsumu, who says he’s a genius.

(The plan is simple: make Kuroo jealous. That bastard is as possessive as a dog over his food).

Which is how he finds himself seated at the kitchen table, phone in hand with a disgusted Y/N right across from him.

“No, you’re not giving my number to Miya Atsumu. That guy has shifty eyes!”

“Come on, you’ll learn how to love it! ‘Sides, Tsumu-tsumu is a nice guy! Did’ya really think I’d set my bestest friend in the world up with some sketchy guy?” If Bokuto’s normal talking voice is at a hundred, he’s talking at a hundred twenty now, just to make sure Kuroo can hear him from his room.

Y/N presses her palms to her ears, not really questioning why he’s talking so damn loud. Instead she blackmails him. “Bokuto if you don’t stop I’ll send Keiji all your embarrassing pictures from our first year.”

“You wouldn’t!”

But the look in her eyes says she would. And the ping! sound that came from her phone says that she just did. “Y/N!” Bokuto cries out, scrambling incredibly fast to his room where he left his phone plugged in, hoping he could stop Akaashi from witnessing the embarrassment that is Bokuto Koutarou as a fifteen year old.

Moments after Bokuto bolted to his room and is screaming out, “‘Kaashi! Block Y/N-chan right now! Don’t open her texts!” Kuroo steps out of his bedroom, having been shamelessly eavesdropping on their previous conversation.

“So,” He leans over the kitchen counter (he thinks he looks like hot shit but Y/N begs to differ), “Miya Atsumu, huh?” Her face contorts into something out of digust or discomfort, he can’t tell which one. Is it bad for him to say he likes that reaction? Probably.

“Don’t.” Is her short response, bringing up a hand in front of her body. “If Bokuto thinks I’m desperate enough to go for one of his teammates, then I’ve got a surprise for him. No offense to Shouyou.”

“So what I’m hearing is...it’s not the aspect of being in a relationship you’re totally against, but the guy himself?” Kuroo thinks out loud. Y/N throws him one of her infamous ‘what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about’ looks, but he feigns ignorance to it.

“I mean, yeah? I haven’t had a good fuck since-” Kuroo decides to cut her off there, not really eager to learn the name of the man she’s...well, you get it! (Bokuto was right, this man truly is possessive).

“Anyways, good choice. I heard the other twin is where it’s at.” Kuroo ends the conversation there, with new knowledge about his new found crush and confidence over the fact that he still has a chance.

A week goes by just like that. Bokuto makes it painfully obvious he’s trying to make Kuroo jealous. Except painfully obvious is not obvious enough for his slightly-frustrating friend, Y/N.

At one point, when obviously Atsumu didn’t serve much of a threat to Kuroo (curse that idiot for being too easy to mock), Bokuto took matters into his own hands and tried flirting with Y/N himself. And while Bokuto is a lot of things, being smooth isn’t one of them. There’s a reason why he hasn’t made whatever he has with Akaashi official yet, he’s terrible at relationships and anything related to it.

(Though Kuroo had a riot witnessing Bokuto’s failed attempts at heterosexual flirting:

“So, you come here often?”

“Bo, I fucking live here.”).

And as much as Bokuto wants to just go out with it and announce to Y/N (and the world) that his totally radical bro, Kuroo Tetsurou, is in love with her, he has just about enough self control and conscience to know that doing that could only result in his immediate death at the hands of a very angry rooster-head. So he’s just been beating around the bush. For a week he’s tried to drop subtle hints that were, sadly, left dropped by Y/N. She’s almost as helpess as Bokuto. Almost.

But when an opportunity like this falls on his lap, Bokuto just knows he has to take it.

It’s at one of their annual roommate-bonding, a tradition they’ve held since moving in together during college. This time Kuroo is unable to join due to some hold-up at work. He’s in his room furiously typing away at his computer.

“So...” He makes sure to drag out the last vowel to gain her interest. Though it’s pretty useless since Y/N is as easy to fool as Bokuto himself. They’re best friends for a reason. A very bad reason, one might say.

“So what?” She asks, shoving about ten pieces of popcorn in her mouth all at once. Bokuto realizes he is tired of beating around the bush. He decides to set the metaphorical bush on fire. “Admit it, Y/N. You like Kuroo, don’t ‘ya? You wanna screw him or something?”

“Shh!” Suddenly Y/N is more invested in whatever Bokuto has to say than the shitty movie he picked out. And now she’s launched herself off her side of the couch onto his, pressing a greasy, buttery palm to his lips.

Bokuto easily swipes her hand away with a shit eating grin on his face. “So I was right! Which one is it? ‘Ya like him? Or you wanna screw him?”

“Bokuto!” She warns. Her eyes dart to Kuroo’s closed bedroom door, suddenly too aware of just now thin these walls actually are. It also didn’t help that Bokuto’s normal speaking voice is about as loud as a race car engine.

She realizes there’s no point in hiding it, since he’s looking at her with those creepy owl eyes, just daring her not to spill everything. “How’d you even find out?” She sighs in defeat.

“Come on! You’ve been so irritated lately that there was only two possible explanations: ya either love the guy or hate his guts. I don’t think you’d be friends with him for ten years if you hated him so much.” Y/N blinks in surprise. That’s surprisingly perceptive, coming from Bokuto. She tells him this.

“Hey! I’m capable of using my head too!” He doesn’t like how she’s giving him that judgement look. Clearing his throat, Bokuto decides to skip past that.

“So? Since when did ‘ya like the lucky bastard?” Bokuto expects one month, maybe two at best. What he didn’t expect was this: “Probably since highschool.”

“Wha-?!” His outburst is contained by a smaller body flying on top of his, as well as two palms pressed tightly over his mouth. Eyes wide, he looks down to see a flustered Y/N, pink cheeks and all, looking menacingly at Kuroo’s door, trying to see if he heard any of that.

Once she confirms she’s in the clear, she lets out the breath she’s been holding and smacks Bokuto across his biceps.

“Idiot! Don’t just scream like that!” She huffs, arms crossed at her chest. “I told you ‘cus I trust you, Bo. Don’t do anything stupid with that trust.” The man simply nods, still too shocked to form coherent words.

Once he does however, Y/N is hit with an onslaught of whispered questions. “Since when? How come I didn’t notice? How come anyone didn’t notice? Why-” He pauses, realizing his questions aren’t being answered. So he waits as she brings her legs up to her chest with an unreadable expression.

“I mean it was pretty easy to hide it. We went to different schools, and whenever we hung out you were always there,” Y/N starts, but quickly adds, “I mean, not like I didn’t want you there! It’s just - it was easier to forget I even liked him whenever the three of us were together.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, probably still wary of the fact that Kuroo was only one room over. Bokuto notices this and turns up the volume of the TV, earning a small smile from his nervous wreck of a friend.

“At one point I was actually gonna tell him, but then he started dating Akari-chan.” Bokuto scowls at the name. Akari, the girl that Kuroo crushed on for a full year, but also the girl that ended up cheating on him with some guy in her painting club. “I wasn’t really the type to cry over a small crush, I had other things to do. Actually I was kind of relieved. Kuroo being taken meant I didn’t have to act on these weird feelings I started having.”

“And next thing I knew we were off to college. I started dating other people, and my feelings for him started shrinking. Even when we decided to move in together, we were all so busy with our separate lives, so I wasn’t really worried about it...until, y’know, we kinda got stuck here together. I guess seeing him 24/7 just caused my head to malfunction. I thought fighting with him would stop these weird...feelings, from coming back. But I guess that backfired on me since you ended up finding out. Wait - Bokuto are you crying?”

The said man tucks his head in his arms, mumbling out “No,” even though it was pretty obvious. Y/N softly smiles, finding his reaction kind of cute. It was nice to know he cares that much, no matter how infuriating he could get.

“I didn’t even know you went through that much, Y/N-chan. C’mere! Lemme give you a hug!”

“Bokuto, no! I don’t need-” The rest of her complaints are drowned out by a sturdy chest meeting her face. Great. Bokuto’s way too emotional now.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll help you tell him!”

“Wait what? I don’t want that!” Y/N tries to argue, but her voice is muffled due to being stuffed into his chest. Suddenly remembering that Bokuto has a tendency to be a loud mouth and could never keep a secret from Kuroo, Y/N shoots up, pressing her palms to his chest to release herself from his hold.

“Bo, you have to promise me you won’t tell him anything.”

“But -”

“Bokuto!” He slightly recoils from the sternness of her voice, before he bows his head and nods. Y/N relaxes a bit, settling back into her previous position and fixed her focus back to the movie playing on the TV as if their previous conversation never happened.

Unbeknownst to her, Bokuto is already putting the pieces together for his master plan.

Y/N comes to regret telling Bokuto her ‘dirty’ little secret exactly one week later, at their next roommate-bonding. This time Kuroo is there, with Bokuto right in between them on the couch. There’s another shitty movie playing in the background (curtesy of Bokuto’s horrible choice in films), but Y/N can’t bring herself to pay attention.

She does however, snap out of her little daydream when Bokuto shoots up, phone in hand and reaching for the door. Oh no. Both Kuroo and Y/N think to themselves.

“Ah! What’s this?! There’s an emergency at ‘Kaashi’s apartment?! Guys, I’ll be right back!” Bokuto is out the door before either of them could object. Y/N knows Akaashi. Akaashi is a safe guy. He’s not the type to call out of nowhere because of an emergency, and even if he did, Bokuto surely would not be the first contact in mind. Which means, Bokuto, that sneaky bastard, planned this with the single brain cell he had left.

Silence fills the air for the next five minutes, until Kuroo’s phone sounds off. It’s a text from Bokuto, reading: When I come back you two better be-

Kuroo decides to turn off his phone there, fearing the contents of the very explicit paragraph Bokuto sent following those words. Instead he turns his head to his friend next to him - or rather on the opposite side of the couch, avoiding him like he’s the plague.

He doesn’t like this awkwardness at all. Conversation between them used to always just flow, even if most of them end up becoming a heated debate over the most trivial things. Kuroo decides to man up. It’s now or never.

“Okay so -” “Hey -” The two pause, finally making eye contact for the first time in past week. All of Kuroo’s brain cells fly out his brain and out the window, leaving him to fend off for himself in this awkward situation. His head is like that one Spongebob meme. Oh god, he’s turning into Bokuto-

“So,” Y/N’s voice snaps him out of his train of thoughts, or rather his lack of it. This is pathetic. He’s a grown man and he’s acting like a highschooler over a pathetic crush. Except this isn’t a pathetic crush. This is Y/N - his best friend for the past ten years, who he’s just now realized is a lot prettier than he initially thought.

“I’m in love with you.” Yes, yes he is. Wait, that wasn’t his voice. And that definitely wasn’t his subconscious trying to patch up what’s left of his decimated ego, which means -

“Kuroo?” Jesus fuck, when did she even slide over this close? “You don’t have to answer or anything, I just thought I should tell you first before Bokuto breaks. I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“No!” She flinches at how loud his voice is. “I mean, fuck - wait. You gotta let me process this real quick.” Kuroo is suddenly aware he’s redder than his Nekoma jersey, and her face is super close to his, and her lips look totally kissable right now.

“I’m in love with you, too.” Kuroo finally speaks up. He notices how she goes stiff, and how quickly her face turns into a bright shade of red.

“You don’t have to say it just ‘cus you feel bad! This doesn’t have to change anything between us! I mean, I’ve kept it a secret for ten years, I can do ten more-”

“Y/N.” She finally stops her rambling, meeting his eyes. And she doesn’t know why, but suddenly she just knows he’s being sincere. She could probably die right now and she’d say she lived a happy life.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Kuroo waits for her confirmation, in this case a shy nod, before cupping her cheeks with his large and warm hands. He inches over slowly at first, but lets his lips eagerly meet hers with a smile. He feels her hands wrap around his waist, letting him deepen the kiss.

It starts of slow and steady, everything Y/N could have ever dreamed of, until needy hands start roaming her body. She has to crane her neck to meet his lips, and Kuroo probably sensed her discomfort because now he’s gripping her waist tightly, lifting her up gently and placing her down on his lap.

The new and more comfortable position allows Kuroo to deepen the kiss, and Y/N finds her hands grabbing the hair she’s been insulting so much for the past two months. Kuroo sighs into the kiss, with Y/N smiling a bit at the situation. As things escalate, a loud gasp breaks them out of their trance.

“Oh. My. God!” Bokuto is squealing like an idiot and Akaashi is behind him unamused. “Finally.” Is his short statement.

“What the fuck Bokuto!” Kuroo growls. Y/N, suddenly a bit too self conscious climbs off the spot she made for herself on Kuroo’s lap. Though her embarrassment doesn’t last long, before she joins Kuroo in glaring at Bokuto.

“I just came back ‘cus I forgot my wallet, but oh man! You guys are adorable!” Akaashi is still behind him, but this time he looks more apologetic. “Bokuto-san, maybe we should leave.”

“Nah, I kinda wanna stay.”

“Bokuto!”

“Get the fuck out!” Bokuto only laughs as he catches both the pillow and the remote control thrown at him. He drops both items back down on the living room floor and snatches his wallet from the counter before calling over his shoulders,

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure ya make me the best man and the maid of honor!”

A/N. Reupload! This fic was totally self-indulgent bc I am so bored of quarantine and am currently wishing I had a Bokuto and Kuroo to keep me entertained. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And as always, thank you for reading! Leave a like if you...liked it? Is that how it goes? - chuu

99 notes · View notes

skzcre · 4 years ago

Text

Cheeky

Lil somethin I threw together from a dream I had about Chan - 🤐 Anon

***

Chan reached out blindly, fumbling for his cell phone. His fingers finally finding it, he groaned, trying to find the appropriate button to make it stop blaring the stupid song Felix had programmed in as his ring tone. After a moment, he realized that he must have answered the call, because he heard Changbin’s voice through the beeps of his attempts to silence the device, instead of the ring tone.

Sighing, he lifted the cell phone to his ear, mumbling, “What?”

Changbin’s laugh met his ear, and Chan buried his face in the pillow, muffling his invectives. He was in the middle of a musical slump and in no mood to deal with people. As he was weighing the merits of attempting to smother himself in the pillow versus the odds of him being able to hurl his cell phone into the toilet from his bed, Changbin spoke.

“Do you do anything but hide in that hotel room?” his bandmate asked, his voice bright.

Chan glanced at the open door to the bathroom, and huffed out a sigh. He’d never make it. Giving in, he answered.

“What do you want?” he said, rolling to his back and tossing his free arm over his eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Changbin snorted, “Or good evening, I should say. Get up. You are coming with us.”

“No, I’m not,” Chan replied immediately.

He had no desire to be immersed in the masses any more than he had to. Chan couldn’t pinpoint when it had begun, but more and more he became the workaholic hermit everyone jokingly called him. And he enjoyed it. No autographs to sign. No pictures to smile for. No having to run from the less sane fans. Why the hell would he want to go through all that when he had a comfortable little niche carved out for himself and his music?

“Yes you are, mate,” came a new voice from the doorway of his hotel room.

Chan quickly sat up, dropping his cell phone. He fell back again almost instantly as he saw what his friends had done.

“Oi, how the fuck did you get in my room?” he sighed, shoving the phone off his bed and ignoring the laughter ringing from it once more.

With a puckish grin, Felix replied, “Easy. Changbin distracted you and I used the key card I lifted off you last night.”

Chan grimaced. He knew he hadn’t just lost his key. With a long suffering sigh, he closed his eyes. They were going to force him to leave his cozy isolation.

“Where are you wanting me to go?” he asked wearily.

Hearing a zipper open, he lifted one eyelid to spy Felix rummaging through his suitcase for clothing. Turning a sly smile over his shoulder to Chan, he winked and tossed a pair of jeans and a shirt at him.

“You’ll see. Get dressed,” he said, dropping to sit in a chair.

Chan pursed his lips, considering the possibility of getting out of this little outing, and finding it impossible. Emitting a growl of annoyance, he stood and gathered the clothes, making his way to the bathroom. As he slammed the door behind him, he heard Felix laugh. This was going to be a pain in the ass, he could already tell.

***

The car stopped in front of a glittering building, and Chan immediately shook his head.

“No way. You have to be joking,” he said, turning wide eyes to his friend.

Felix laughed, and replied, “Hey, this place is a legend. We can’t come to France and not take a peek.”

Chan’s eyes widened on Felix, doubting the sanity of his friend. If JYPE or the fans found out about this…

“It’s a strip club,” he said slowly, as if explaining something very simple to someone very stupid.

Felix only rolled his eyes and hopped out of the car, shooting back, “Yes, the finest damn strip club in France. Now get your ass out and come on.”

Chan opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of a proper response to this. Sure, they had snuck off to strip clubs before as trainees, but it had never been something Chan enjoyed, the reward certainly not worth the risk. There was a desperation in places like this that ruined any appeal it may have. And truthfully, Chan’d had enough of women offering themselves up to him. There was only one difference between the professionals and groupies. The professionals were more honest about what they wanted out of the deal.

Felix opened Chan’s door with a flourish. Chan let his eyes fall shut on a groan, then stepped out. There was no way out of this, he supposed. They made their way to the front door, and were met by Changbin and Jisung, walking from their car.

“How the hell did Minho get out of this little adventure?” Chan asked, eyes narrowing.

“He didn’t want to come,” replied Felix.

Chan snorted, and mumbled, “Neither did I.”

Changbin clapped him on the back, shoving him through the door behind Jisung and saying, “Yes, well, Minho isn’t a shut-in. Stop bitching and have fun for once.”

Chan muttered a few pointed remarks and allowed them to herd him inside. He would find some way to get them back for this.

***

Sitting at a table in a dark corner of the place, as far from the bar as he could get, Chan tore a paper napkin into tiny shreds. This may be the finest strip club in all of France, but it was still a seedy place filled with the scents of lust and money. Pressing his lips together, he glanced up at the girls scattered around the room. He found that none of them interested him in the least. The rest of his bandmates were happily cracking jokes and playfully tossing money at women.

They had given up on trying to make him join in on the ‘fun.’ He knew his company was less than enthralling of late, but he just didn’t really care anymore. Sighing, he slid further down in his chair, wishing he were back in his hotel room, happily making music. Scanning the room once more, he decided to slip out and get an uber. This place was just depressing him. Like he needed help with that.

He leaned forward to stand, but froze as his eyes found a woman across the room. She was draped across a brass bar, languidly gyrating her hips. She appeared to be either stoned out of her mind, or to have completely given up on life. He blinked, then leaned back in his seat. Cocking his head to the side, he studied her as she straightened a bit, turning around, her hips still moving.

She wasn’t the type of woman who usually caught his eye. She was plain. She was average. She was not fat, but certainly not thin. Her hair was a boring shade. There was nothing exceptional about her at all. So why was he watching her so intently? Crossing his legs, he leaned back and set about discovering why his eyes were glued to some stripper.

She seemed to ignore the men around her, writhing to the music with a flat expression. Her back turned to him, and his eyes wandered down. It hit him then. The reason he was so entranced… was her ass. A small laugh of surprise burst from his lips. Well, that was new. He had never been much of an ass man. Sure, they could be sexy, but never had one made him really sit up and pay attention. But as he watched the woman’s hips bounce to the music, he thought maybe there was something to that particular body part.

Sucking in a deep breath, he snickered at himself. The last thing he thought he’d be doing tonight was sitting in a strip club, trying to pry his eyes from some disaffected, boring girl’s butt. She slid in his direction, and he followed her movements. Attempting to think this out logically, he dissected her swaying behind with as much cold calmness as he could muster when his cock was finally deciding to come back to life.

It wasn’t a large ass, nor particularly round. But the skin above her gartered stockings was calling to him, begging for his touch. And the way she moved her hips… well, she certainly knew what her selling point was. As she drifted closer, Felix returned to the table, falling into a seat, with a laugh.

“Man, you are really worrying me. The girls over there are actually pretty nice to talk to, and you sit over here sulking,” he said, shaking his head at Chan.

Chan only nodded, leaning to the side to get a clear view of the ass around his friend. Felix’s eyebrows shot up, and he turned to see what Chan was so intently looking at. A puckish grin lit his face as he spied the thing that held Chan’s attention. Before Chan could even realize what was going on, Felix raised a hand and called to the stripper.

She turned her dull eyes in their direction, and danced her way to the table. Chan tried to work up some sort of denial, but all was pushed aside as the ass drew closer. She reached the table, turned around, and gave her hips a good roll. His cock, already taking notice, stood right up and saluted at that movement. Oh yes, he was going to have to thank Felix for this later.

Felix stood, laid some money on the table, and told the girl to give Chan a good time. Chan tried to look up in thanks to his friend, but the ass was slowly backing towards him, gyrating. Swallowing, he clenched his hands, doing his best not to reach out and touch. He wasn’t sure if the rules were the same everywhere, but the strip clubs he’d been in had always stipulated that the customer not touch.

But oh, how he wanted to touch. She bent over the table, her ass fluidly moving to the music so very close to him. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes heavily lidded, and watched him. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, chewing at it, doing everything he could think of not to either reach out for her, or to stroke the very insistent erection he had gained. It seemed that his dick had been feeling a bit neglected as of late, and was determined to remind him of its importance.

A small attempt at a smile flitted over her lips, and she said in a heavy, languid voice, “It’s okay if you want to give it one touch. I won’t tell.”

He glanced up at her face, and licked his lips nervously. She was not so plain as he had thought from a distance. His eyes narrowed back in on her ass. He wanted to touch. But if he did, he would only be teasing himself even more than was already happening. His member was already beginning to ache. She softly laughed, a tactile sound, velvety. Chan growled at the sensation of her laugh washing over him as her cheeks moved enticingly only a foot from him.

Glancing up into her eyes for a moment, he shot his hand out, gripping her hip, and sending the other hand to deliver a slap across one of the globes that was driving him mad. She sucked in a breath, looking up. He thought at first that he had broken through her calm reserve, but realized that she was simply making sure no one had noticed. After a moment, she turned her head slowly once more to peer at him through a veil of lashes.

He smirked, seeing the red mark on her ass, matching the flush creeping into her face. Leaning forward, he rested his elbow on his crossed knee, slowly cocking his head to the side to simply watch the show her ass was giving him. She straightened, moving to turn, and Chan glanced up at her warningly.

“Get back across the table,” he said in a low, commanding voice.

She paused, then slowly leaned back down, working her hips harder. Chan let a soft growl slip out, and she wet her lips, her hands splaying across the table for purchase as her ass did an elaborate dance before him. Chan quickly glanced around then leaned in closer.

“Lap dance,” he breathed, keeping his words to a minimum.

She stiffened a moment, and he found that he liked the fact that he was unnerving her. She seemed to be so distanced from her job, and he discovered that he wanted to see if he could wake her from that haze she seemed to be in. She slowly arched her back, keeping her ass on display as she raised her shoulders from the table.

Backing towards him, she twisted her waist, her entire body moving sinuously to the music. But he only had eyes for that one part of her. Just as his patience was about to snap, she straddled his chair, slowly lowering that captivating ass to his lap. Gyrating, she stroked it across his groin, and he jerked his hips up, involuntarily. He heard a soft laugh from her, and narrowed his eyes.

He wasn’t going to let her turn the tables on him like that. Gritting his teeth, he rolled his hips up, holding back a groan as his throbbing erection slid across the junction of her thighs. She let a moan slip out, and the tease was worth it. The clothing containing his cock scraped across his sensitive skin, and he cursed softly. She pressed down on him harder, and he knew that this was going to end painfully, but he was going to get as much as he could of her lush ass.

Reaching up, he put his hands over her hips hesitating as he looked around to see if they were being watched. She didn’t even bother to look. With an inaudible murmur, she pressed his hands down to grip her hips. Chan hissed in a breath between his clenched teeth, and began to rock up against her. He couldn’t get the friction he needed through the thick, tight material, but she was soon trembling under his palms, that alluring ass of hers moving quicker against him.

His eyes were still following the movement of the rounded cheeks in his lap, and he bit back a frustrated snarl. He was aching to find his release, but he just couldn’t, without pulling out his dick and stroking it right there. Even if that were allowed, he wouldn’t give her that much satisfaction. This had become a battle of sorts. Him trying to get a bigger and better reaction from her, and her trying to distract him back into a lusty fog.

But he would win. He could feel the pain in his balls from being hard so long with so little pleasure, but he would not give in. He wanted to break this girl, to crack open the veneer she pulled between herself and her customers. He pressed up harder, tightening his grip on her hips, his strong fingers digging into her flesh. He pulled her against him, unable to withhold a grunt as her fantastic ass pressed into him harder.

She whimpered, and he wanted to crow in victory. A shudder of climax passed over her body, her ass jerking against his crotch, and she hissed out a string of curse words, her hands flying out to grip the table, steadying herself. Chan panted, his triumph at making her orgasm dimmed by the insistence of his cock that he do the same as soon as possible. She weakly leaned forward, sliding from his lap to the chair next to him. Her hand trailed blindly across the table as she leaned back in the seat, her eyes closed. Finding the money Felix had left, she grasped it, and dragged it to her chest.

Chan quickly stood, wincing at the motion. He peered down at her for a moment, her eyes still closed, her face unguardedly relaxed in her satisfaction. A smirk flitted across his lips, and he turned to gingerly walk towards the door. He had a serious case of blue balls, but it was worth it. He nodded to his friends as he passed them. Felix cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly, and Chan just gave a tiny shrug and a knowing smile. Felix turned to the table where the stripper still sat, then burst into laughter.

Chan carefully made his way outside, hailing a cab to take him back to his hotel room. He told the driver to hurry. He needed to get to his comfortable bed and rub out the frustration that had built to a fever pitch in his groin. And he knew exactly what image would be playing through his head as he came.

#.submission 💒#okay good GOD #HOLY SHIT MAN #submission

52 notes · View notes

kaimactrash · 3 years ago

Photo

Okay first and foremost: if this flag is wrong lemme know! I have been googling but obviously, it can only go so far in trustablity since pages can be boosted.Anyway, heres my crew of lesbian OCs,

realise I have very few gay men ocs bc I've been in a real drawing fems mood lately, but theres a few there

info below on the ocs

other than Lith none of these women were born on earth, or even lived on it, so they don't have the exact same gender and physical sex rules we do, so this is more the closest term that fits all of my ladies who love ladies&enbees.up in the top left we have Lottie, she's not really into sex that much, but shes all about the romance, shes a very loving person, but deeply scared from several events leaving her with intense PTSD. She's a Frenrar native would was recruited as a demon, she was much more anthro as a human, but lost some of it on the transition to demon. She starts her story being rescued, while greatful, within a few months of world trecking she realised that this isn't what she wants to do anymore, she decides to hang out at Valentino, Skye, and Pipers traveling bar, called The Turkeys Tail. There she studies endlessly to solve a few magic issues on Franrar with the help of Valentino, it takes time but she ends up being the demon to be able to break the Elders curse, in the form of cuffs binding all lower (Hokey) demons, which prevents them running of flying away. She's a pacifist & would really like if there were no wars going on, but since she can't stop them herself, she tries to do so with her experiments. She's growing a lot as i write her and get to know her which is cool, I love when you can just almost hear a character coming together in your mind. all the inspo! Sorry for the ramble! it's good to get this stuff down when I'm in brain storming mind! Across from Lottie, top right, is lith! If you've followed me for years you know lith a bit, she was once a middle aged woman from earth, she made the transition over to demon at the end of a long fight with respiritory illness. Shes very busy lady being one of the two first primary protagonists, while she has some time to adjust to demon life, it didn't come with its own issues, and she ws soon through into a resistance for a place she arrived in not that long ago, she works it out over time. She also works out her sexuality, as a human, she pretty much burried her sexuality but the freedom of a while new world, one filled with many more queer people like her, haha.below her the giant elder Galo stands, due to her bullish attitude and hard headed focus, she struggles with this and the power battles in the Demon realm, often failing to see the wider issue as rilo refocuses her everytime she get close to figuring them out. Shes a bit new so a little under developed but shes going to be apearing quite a lot at the start of the story, then return later, so I'll have some time to get to know her. that tiny lil green triclops like thing, is Shihosu, my most precious and special baby, I wanna protect her even thou i'm the one writting the conflict in her world. She actually dies before she even apears, but shes brough back by octo ( the gold and purple octomaid lady.) and this essentially makes her speicies see her as some blessed chosen one, she has a big repuatation and after seeing and hearing other members of her speices die, she goes on the hunt for octo to find out why she was chosen...she has plenty of fun nights out during this, so she has a good life work balance. Shihosu is checking out Elviras butt. Elvira is basically an effigy brought to life by her father Emesh, She's a romantic at heart and can't help but coo and awe at any acts of love. Her father is very over protective and it takes a long time for her to be given true free reign of her life, shes thousands of years old by that point, so she gets out and finds the area outside her home is a semi-apocolyptic waste land filled with strange speicies and creatures, she quick decides she has left because she's to help. Her father is actually aware that he was to let her go off on her own as soon as she'd ask. He was inspired to create her while tripping hard, and the voice told him how to make her, and why he should....*mystery music.*Lastly we have the aforementioned Octo, and her wife, Beefy. By the time we meet them, they've been married a few years and they are obnoxiously in love. Beefy was earth child some how snatched onto Frenrar, she doesn'y know who did it, why, or even how, even though she meets others like her over time, none of them seem to know who did this, and no one on frenrar seems to know who could even do that. She was found in a box in the woods, no older than a year, and the Fleetfoots, a rabbit like spieces with multiple varients across frenrar, the spieces are known for strength, mentally and phsyically, hardiness, and determination, which ended up feeling perfect for Beefy, until Octovar arrived, Not immediately though. Octo was there over a summer at her father request, as she had gained a reputation for making scenes at big public royal family events, so as it is so oftem the rebelious princess is sent off out of daddys way, while he does his old boring bussiness. Beefy spent a lot of her time building and training physically, and Octovar would often be around. She's very curious as someone who lives mostly in the sea, being so far from the ocean, the lifestyles felt completely alien to one another. Over time awkward stares and little comments evolved in to longing looks and full on flirting. Always very opinionated, Octovar opened up to beefy about why she was here, why she was fighting them, and why she needed to leave before her father came back to collect her, Beefy agreed and talked about a Fleetfoot called Piper who had been here, but left after a visit from a powerful mage, beefy had kept contact via letters, so was now aware, Piper was an active member of the resistance. Beefy said her goodbyes, their culture never saw one set of parents, everyone raised everyone basically, so it was scary, but the elders reccomended beefy go try it out, reminding her, her burrow will always be there for her when or if she ever comes back.While we meet them at wives I'm 100% planning a prequel comic on them from meeting each other, to when they meet lith landon and the crew.OOf woops sorry these are meant to be silly cute lil pieces but I get all focused on lore! I'm still planningon doing more even though pride is over, I'm planning on doing one with gay men, then aro/ace. I may also do one with other mspec idnetities, but I do not have many ocs in those categories, YET! I will defo have more as more characters are created, I gotta make a whole planet of people. so theres gonna be variety.I may try and put all my trans characters together for a trans flag, but i may use the art I already made of them! Happy pride Lesbains*! (*and all the groups simailir or under that lable)

#kai art #oc art

3 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 5 years ago

Text

Complicated Boyfriends and Cute Waiters

Just a little something for @starkerchemistry for all the love she threw at Complicated Boyfriends and Kidnapping. Also, pls reminds Chems of how amazing her work is bc the lil shit disagrees >:( Also for @starkerintheparker because I keep converting her to WinterSpider >;D WinterIronSpider.

Tony takes one look at his waiter and sighs heavily.

Not because there’s anything wrong; no. In fact, the plush lips and the shaped jaw and the mop of curls desperately styled into something resembling purposeful mess is actually quite pleasing. The large, honey eyes that widen in recognition don’t hurt either.

No. It’s because Tony knows Bucky is going to take one look at this twinky little slip in his smart shirt and his tie and he’s going to want.

And Tony so had been looking forwards to a quiet evening. A little wine, some $80 salmon and perhaps even getting dicked down into the next fortnight by his boyfriend. The standard casual night in.

“Mr. Iron Stark” the boy whelped, and immediately flushed scarlet at his mishap. Tony could only smile quietly into his book, endeared if a little mollified.

“I think ‘Tony’ would suffice” he responded demurely, sliding the bookmark into place and setting his book aside. The boy was now stood bolt upright, and had obviously steeled himself into giving the Best Service Ever, though he looked a little like he might crumble if Tony so much as looked at him for too long.

“Oh, god. Right. Yes. Mr - I mean, Tony. Of course. I’m sorry, I’ve only just started this job and I’m not used to...” The boy trailed off, clearly trying to think of a way to say ‘people like you’ without it coming across as a little insulting. Tony flashed him an easy, warm smile.

“Breathe, kid. I’m just like anyone else in person, I promise. How about you start me off with a nice, fruity red bottle and two double Presidential 25′s, if that’s okay? Take your time; Lord knows my boyfriend certainly is” he teased, head tipping as he disarmed the boy with another dazzling smile.

His waiter could only gape, before he shut his mouth with a painful sounding clack and spun on his heel, fleeing to the nether-regions of the employee zone. Tony gave an amused sound as he checked his phone. It wasn’t like Bucky to run late; that was Tony’s thing.

And then, like Beetlejuice and undoubtedly because Tony had been thinking of him, Bucky came sauntering into the restaurant like some sort of underwear model. His suit was a deep, silken black with a slightly lighter floral pattern in the fabric, the jacket hanging artfully off his shoulders as he swept the room for his lover.

His hair was styled neatly, and Tony still loved the more modernised cut that he’d opted for; longer on one side, layered and fluffy with bangs that fell over one eye constantly. His stubble was a neat shadow on his jaw, and his eyes focused on Tony with such intensity as he approached that Tony lifted a brow.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to out-do me” Tony greeted as he leaned back in his seat, enough that Bucky could duck down and suck his lower lip into his mouth for a brief but promising kiss.

“Actually, I’m just trying to do you” Bucky shot back shamelessly as he slid into his seat, one leg immediately finding Tony’s under the table to press against. Tony gave an indignant sound, because it was both a truth and a lie, but let it go as movement caught the corner of his eye. Much as he wanted to watch the boy approach, he turned back to Bucky.

Storm-grey eyes slid away, following the path his own had left, and oh, yes. There it was. The subtle up-down of Bucky’s lashes as he sized up the boy, the curl of a smirk at the corners of his mouth. Bucky’s gaze drifted back to Tony in an undeniable stake of predator-prey. Tony could only tip his head in response, smirking slowly.

“H-here. I’m so sorry it took a while” the boy fretted, balancing a tray neatly on one hand as he set a tumbler of whiskey opposite each man, complete with artful glass freezer cubes and an empty, polished wine glass besides that, setting the bottle of red - freshly corked - in the centre of the table. He had to lean over a little to do so, and you would have had to be blind to miss the way that Bucky leaned back to sweep over his body.

“What did I say, darling? Treat me like any other rich shmuck in this place. And don’t mind him, he only bites if you ask nicely” Tony hummed, gesturing to his boyfriend, who eyed him both like he wanted to throttle him and kiss him senseless. In Tony’s experience they often came one with the other regardless.

“I - Sorry?” It came out as a question, but the boy was flushed from hairline to shirt collar and fumbled with his notepad, hands a little shaky as he produced a pen from his breast pocket. “Um, are you ready to order? Or would you like me to give you another minute?” He asked, and it was impossible to miss the way his gaze flit between them, eyes raking their bodies like they were two cuts of steak he was trying to decide between.

“Oh, I think Bucky knows what he wants, alright” Tony purred in obvious, gleeful amusement. Bucky smiled at him in a flash of canine, but didn’t miss a beat as he tipped his head back, eyeing the waiter with a charming smile.

“I’ll settle for the stripped, gold-crust steak served rare, and your name, since this moron was clearly too impolite to ask”. And ooohhhh, wasn’t that a low blow to gain favour? Tony pressed the toes of his Louboutin’s into Bucky’s own none too gently.

“Peter” the waiter blurted, eyes flitting between them as he scribbled down Bucky’s order in impressive short-hand, gaze drifting to Tony, who only smiled serenely at his boyfriend.

“You’re so predictable. Always going for the tender, high-class meat. Always liking it raw” Tony purred, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about the steak. Bucky only gave an elegant shrug in response; at a loss to deny it. Peter was looking between them again, vaguely like he might know they were talking about sex, but unable to address it.

“What can I say? I like something solid to sink my teeth into. I like a little juice to lick at and taste. And you of all people know I prefer it raw” Bucky replied steadily, gaze not leaving Tony’s.

“I’ll have the salmon, please, Peter.” Tony hummed, gaze leaving Bucky to look sweetly up at the boy, who nodded and turned, striding away like he was desperate to run away. Tony let his gaze drop back to Bucky. “Less wolf, more fox. He’s a skittish young thing. Haven’t I taught you anything about hunting?” He sighed in mock admonishment and Bucky reached across the table to cup his jaw, smirking.

“Doll, I was fucking people in back-alleys long before you were born. You taught me nothing, old man”. And, well. Rude. “You’re right, though. We might spook him off at this rate. Last time I saw someone that red it was Clint, and he was choking on a mint”. Bucky leaned back, picking up his whiskey and taking an indulgent sip.

They made comfortable small-talk over the time it took for their meals to arrive, Tony lamenting the boredom he’d faced at the quarterly performance review and Bucky noting the progress he and Steve were making with their veteran programs. Tony was proud of his man, really. He’d come so far since Steve had shown up at the Tower with him, both sopping wet and bloodied.

Peter came back no longer than ten minutes later, a plate upon each hand. He delivered Tony’s first, bending down to slide the plate onto the table, and Tony couldn’t resist leaning over, flashing a sweet smile at the boy up close, where he could see flacks of green in his eyes. “Thank you, darling” he murmured, and Peter’s cheeks went red yet again, like Tony simply speaking to him was an activation button for a blush.

Bucky, the brat, had to go one extra. Instead of giving Peter room when the boy bent down he crowded in close, practically licking the shell of the boy’s ear as he whispered a sultry "Thanks, Doll”. Peter’s gaze jerked to Tony, alarmed, but Tony only half-rolled his eyes and picked up a delicate mouthful of smoked salmon.

“You’re a pest” he noted, once Peter had stammered his way into retreating once more. “I had a quiet evening planned” he added, as though it mattered. It didn’t. This practically was his quiet evening, he just now had two desserts instead of one. By the way Bucky eyed him, he knew that, too.

“Shut up and eat your fish” Bucky drawled, popping a cut of dripping steak with tiny flecks of gold powder into his mouth. Obnoxious prat.

But Tony did as told, polishing off the salmon and whiskey both, and filling their wine glasses with a generous serving. It was sweet and rich, just his taste, and he wondered if another waiter hadn’t advised Peter on which choice to bring. “So. The choice is yours” he announced after a pause, when Bucky had finished his own meal and was sniffing daintily at the wine.

“You wanna play sheepdog, or am I?” Bucky asks in answer, lips curving into a wicked smirk that has Tony grinning in response, leg twisting around Bucky’s in a hidden touch. Tony shifted his wine glass in response, allowing a few measly drops to fall onto the edge of his jacket. Good thing he wore grey and hated this suit anyway, because that red wasn’t gonna come out.

Bucky only rolled his eyes, because they’d played this game before, and pushed to his feet. “Woof woof, bitch” Bucky murmured, low into Tony’s ear as he passed, and Tony resisted the urge to drag him back by his hair, to put him on his knees right then. Largely because of he had one more PR disaster this month Pepper got his custom Audi, and he only had four days to go.

It took another short collection of minutes for Peter to come practically skipping over; during which Tony had splashed a few more drops for good measure. “Oh, Peter. D’you think you could help a clumsy old man out? Buck’s gone on a phonecall and I tipped my wine” Tony pouted, putting on his best helpless, sweet aura. Peter’s eyes zeroed in on the red splashed at his hips, tongue peeking out like the solution was to lick it clean.

“Of course! I can - I’ll see if there’s any stuff behind the bar? I can be right back” Peter breathed, but Tony shook his head, pushing to stand. Peter’s eyes are wide now, like a startled deer. They’re stood close enough for Tony to note he has almost a full head on the boy. For a man who’s boyfriend towered over him, it made him rather smug.

“Oh, no need for all of that. Just come to the men’s with me to help me dab the wet patches, hm? At least I won’t reek like a wine cellar on the way home”. He added a charming smile for good measure, turning on his heel. He didn’t need to look to know Peter would follow obediently. Refusing Tony Stark wasn’t good for business, after-all.

Bucky is perfectly concealed when he swings the door open, shrugging out of his jacket and listening to the clack of another polished shoe on the tiles as Peter steps in after him, practically vibrating with nervous energy. Tony carelessly draped his jacket over the edge of the sink and begun to run the tap, because what was a story without details?

Peter hovered closer, clearly unsure of why it would take two men to wash a jacket. “I - What do you need me to do, Mr. Stark?” The boy asks not a moment later, and Tony can’t bite back a grin. Peter has wandered around to his right, which means when Bucky makes his dramatic entrance, it’s gonna be behind the kid.

“Oh, nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you do want to, then just stand there and let me make you feel good, hm?” He asked, head tilting as he turned off the tap and took a step closer. The hitch of Peter’s breath is audible.

He doesn’t step away, though. Interesting.

“Y-You’re here with your boyfriend” Peter whimpered, even as Tony’s hands came up to his shoulders and chest, petting gently. He trembled under the touch, but didn’t back away, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Over Peter’s shoulder Tony can see Bucky swing around the edge of a stall door, prowling quietly closer, but he doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t dare alert Peter of the predator at his heels.

“I wouldn’t worry about hurting my feelings, Doll” Bucky purred, low and raspy in Peter’s ear as he pressed up against Peter’s back, until the boy was a pretty little sandwich filler. Peter actually yelped, driving forwards into Tony’s chest, and Tony let his hands fall to slim hips, holding him steady.

“Now, Bucky” he chided, voice softening. “What do we do before we play?” He asked, arching a brow as Peter panted between them. Bucky cast him a pouty but gentle look.

“We ask for consent” he hummed, metal hand reaching up to gently brush aside a curl when Peter whipped around to face him, lips parted.

“Good boy” Tony murmured, gaze dropping back to Peter. They take a step away from him in unison, giving the poor thing some room to breathe. “So. That means you can tell us to stop, and we’ll walk out, pay our bill, and we won’t approach you this way again. Or...You can say yes, and we’ll be gentle, but we’ll make you feel good” he continued.

Peter shifted between them, looking cautious but also like he was two breaths away from sinking to his knees. His voice is small, rough when he finally speaks. “If...What will you do? To make me feel good?” He whispered, and Tony and Bucky wore matching, slow smirks.

“Well. I’m more of a practical person” Tony drawled, eyes roaming Peter’s face for confirmation. He found it in a weak nod, the boy’s pupils blowing as he advanced closer and reached out, him and Bucky closing Peter between them once again. Peter was small between them, lips bitten and eyes wild as Bucky reached down, sliding metal fingers along the curve of his ass and between his thighs, rubbing there like you’d finger a girl, his other hand winding around to press flat over Peter’s stomach.

A wrecked, torn sound slips from Peter’s throat, practically collapsing against Bucky as Tony’s hand dripped down, palming over the half-hard bulge there none too teasingly, the other hand cupping his jaw and tipping his head.

“We’ve maybe got five minutes or less” Tony breathed, licking into the corner of Peter’s plush, pink mouth as Bucky pressed up against him, dropping to mouth at his neck. “I can think of a few things to do”.

403 notes · View notes

chick-from-nz · 4 years ago

Text

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 3)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually)

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, spelling and grammatical errors. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo might not be cannon accurate for some as this is an AU. Flippy, floppy point of views (if it can be called that?), some oc x Army!oc

AUTHORS NOTE: hopefully y'all enjoy this chapter, sorry for the high amount of OC on OC content in this chapter, also i was writing this late at night so its probably a lil disjointed, but ah, yeah you’ll see why soon. More of the Colonel is this chapter, finally, but yeah. enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

CHAPTER: 3 OF ?

TAG LIST (OPEN) : @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

It seemed wishful thinking really did not pay off for Cadet Greyson, the next two days of training went by without so much of a sighting of the Colonel, who at this point, was still nameless to her and her fellow cadets. Maybe he hadn't seen someone worth his while within the current platoon and had instead decided to leave for the main base to find a more adequate soldier. Greyson dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. Surely he would want a fresh little soldier to mold into his perfect team member, why else would he be sniffing round the training grounds if not for that reason. But as it seemed, no one other than herself had seen the Colonel around. So maybe he was really just a figment of her imagination then.

Pffft, as if, you can’t make THAT man up. He is pure sin of the utmost devine kind Greyson giggled quietly to herself. She had definitely gone mad from the deathly amount of exhaustion they had faced since the assessment day. That or maybe I hit my head when I fell from that stupid wall. Again she giggled to herself. Nope , definitely gone mad.

Another thing that struck her as odd was that she hadn’t seen LT. Colonel Sinclair since their less than professional interactions two days ago. Hopefully he finally came to his senses and decided she wasn't worth the effort and that her rank was far below anything worthy of his attention. For some reason though, that thought struck a cord inside of her, one that frightened her. She was in over her head with this guy, way over her head and rank. Even if he was drop dead gorgeous. Definitely not as attractive as a certain handsome Colonel. A little inside voice reminded her. God, that was the last thing she needed, falling for a guy with an even higher rank, if she wasn’t frowned upon already she definitely would be then.

Shaking the idea from her mind, she stood up and continued packing up her kit. The company was to head back to the training base today. A welcome thought for all the recruits within the area. The thought of sleeping on a bed that wasn’t below zero temperature to the touch and fully functioning warm showers seemed to be pushing them to move faster and more fluidly as a team than ever before. There is never a more motivated team than a team that has a single goal in common . Sometimes she hated her father but she never knew that saying to be more true than it was now.

It took the recruits approximately thirty minutes to have the campsite return to the pristine state it was before they laid camp only four days earlier, despite the fact said week had felt like a month long mission. Despite all the recruits being overworked and their patience stretched thin with each other, all of the thirty recruits had passed their final assessment week, which would mean all of them would graduate together. An accomplishment for all and a first for a company of this size. Yet, it was obvious from an outsider looking in, that this company was definitely not a team of thirty like they should be. The distinct scores between the top three recruits and the rest had seemingly made the company into two teams. The twenty seven cadets who had done enough to pass, and the three cadets who had excelled beyond all expectations in every single area of the training. The elite cadets of the company some might say.

The next few hours flew by for the cadets, a long bus ride back to base, stowing away their kit and polishing boots to get their rig from exercise standard back to office standard. Rumors' had been passed around that tonight there was to be a big meeting for the cadets to attend. There was a palpable excitement coursing through the mess as everyone tried to guess what the meeting was about, many speculated that they would be introduced to the Colonel, while others thought it was a congratulations for completing their assessment week. Although, it was safe to say, that many of the recruits were hoping for the former of the two, and maybe if that happened one of them would be formally offered a spot on the Colonel’s intel squad.

Without even knowing the name of the Colonel there was already a bet running between the female cadets about the attractiveness of the foreign officer. Some girls bet that he was going old and undesirable due to his rank, while others bet he was a “young stud”. Greyson had kept her thoughts to herself but would often scoff at the descriptions the girls came up with, not one of them was even getting close to what the Colonel looked like, which instilled a strange sense of pride within the cadet. But also a high level of confusion as not a single recruit in the platoon had ever mentioned seeing an unknown officer with the instructors a mere two days ago.

As the evening progressed the recruits waited for an announcement to be made over the speakers for them to move to the scran hall or into the common area for the meeting. By eight o’clock the recruits finally heard the speakers crack to live, waking most of them from an evening of well deserved rest. The recruits followed the instructions given to them and made haste towards the common area a short march away from their barracks. Upon arriving, dismissing and gathering in the space many recruits seemed to deflate at the lack of an unfamiliar face.

“Good evening cadets, as you know there is a Columbian Colonel on base observing the ins and outs of some squadrons so he can choose a select few members from different corps so join his intelligence team. Over the past week he was in and out of the training grounds observing most of you knowing. By the end of your longest day he had made a tough decision between two of the cadets sitting in this room, along with choosing your squadron leader, Lieutenant O’Connor here to be a part of his squad. In saying that, the colonel is yet to inform us of which cadet sitting in this room is the lucky new member of his squad. I shall take it upon myself, as the commander of the unit, to inform you as soon as I know” LT. Colonel Sinclair’s speech seemed to drone on for most of the cadets in the room. They were tired, beyond so, and were just wishing he would allow them to leave as soon as possible, but as it seemed, he wasn’t finished yet.

“I will be taking time this coming week to pull each of you into my office to discuss your future in the force and what corps you are now eligible to join due to your overall scores gained from the past twenty weeks of your training. Once you have all been assigned to a core you shall receive your patches and berets and be formally welcomed into your chosen field before you graduate. The last week of training will consist of core introductions and briefs and finalization of drill before your graduation day. I will offer you all a very big congratulations for making it through training and wish you all the best for your futures in the force. You are dismissed”

At the dismissal most of the cadets all but jumped from their chairs, having been given no more orders for the night it was to be a peaceful night ahead. And many of them would be heading straight to the barracks for sleep. Greyson began to make her way from the room following slightly behind her fellow classmates only to be stopped by the LT. Colonel calling out to her. Stopping abruptly at the order she turned around and walked back towards him, the whole time wondering if this was gonna be another one of his ‘teasing moments’.

“Sir, not to overstep but I would like to get back to the barracks and back to my pit before I drop on my feet” Greyson said kindly to make it very clear to the LT. Colonel in front of her that she was suggesting and definitely not ordering him around, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“This will only take a moment Greyson, I assure you that...” the LT Colonel trailed off, waiting for his subordinate to acknowledge, before continuing on, “I wanted to congratulate you personally on you achievements over the cadets course, you have set multiple records with the scores you have obtained and I wanted to let you know that you are the top recruit from your intake”

Shifting on her feet awkwardly Greyson nodded in thanks, silently acknowledging her own achievements and also trying to stay awake for the conversation. The LT. Colonel took a step closer to her, again entirely to close from a professional standpoint, and placed his hand on her shoulder, steady and firm, making her whole body tense up at the initial contact before she subtly, or so she thought, relaxed far too much under his touch. She had, after all, had no contact from anyone since joining the army, as was protocol, but it had left her touch starved, and in her tired state, far too ready to throw rank out the window and do something that broke far too many rules.

The LT. Colonel noticed the way she relaxed under his touch and decided to push the boundary a little further bringing the cadet in front of him into a tight hug, to which she returned all too eagerly. While absorbed in each other's embrace they failed to notice one of the other cadets, Cadet Lewis, watching from the door. Lewis was Greyson’s roommate and had stayed behind when she noticed she wasn’t behind her like she should have been.

Greyson sank into the embrace, although knowing that this was highly against almost all rules put in place she couldn’t bring herself to care. Yes he was her commanding officer, and yes she was but a lowly cadet, but in that moment wrapped within his strong arms and snuggled closely into her chest, she had never felt more relaxed. She let out one long shaky breath, one that he definitely felt, and pulled away from him. She needed to keep the relationship professional till she graduated, and probably even after then, god knows her father wouldn't want her to disgrace his name.

As she pulled away from his warm embrace she dared a glance up, there was a look of what almost seemed like longing and affection in the eyes of the man before her, and a look of want, the emotions she found in his intense brown eyes made her shiver. She watched as his eyes glanced down towards her lips, then slowly back up to her eyes as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Shamefully her own eyes were then transfixed on his mouth, and for a small moment, she pushed the thoughts of rank out the window as his head dipped down and his lips captured hers in a bruising kiss. The shock that came from the kiss had her gasping into his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to tangle his tongue with hers, she felt his hands start to wander down her back, and further still to her ass. The shock of this seemed to finally bring her to her sense, cause not a second later she was pushing him away and taking a few steps back for good measure.

Standing there staring at the LT Colonel, chest heaving in time with his, sheer horror overcame her sense. What had she just done? Wiping a hand down her face to clear her thoughts she knew she needed to end this before it started, even if the kiss was better than nay she had had.

“Sir, I..” Greyson trailed off, she was struggling to find the right words for the situation, she didn’t want to reject him in a harsh way, or reject him at all if she was being totally honest with herself, but she knew this was the only thing that would save her career from being a shit-fight. “I’m sorry Sir, I can’t do this, I’m sorry” and with those final words she dismissed herself and promptly left the room for the safety of her barracks. In her rush to get away from an awkward moment, she failed to notice the LT. Colonel’s face fell and the way he had to refrain himself from reaching out to touch her.

Breathing heavily and overcome with emotion, Cadet Greyson finally made it back to her barracks, a room she shared with but one other cadet, the luxury of being an officer in training. To her shock her roommate, Cadet Lewis, was still awake, and by the looks of it, she had been waiting for her to get back.

“So, you're fucking the LT Colonel right? That's how you've made it to the top of the points board” Cadet Lewis hissed at her

“I... what the fuck are you talking about Lewis, I earnt my place on that board by beating the rest of you lazy fucks in the events fair and square. And what the fuck do you mean, fucking the LT. Colonel, what gives you that idea?!” In her already distressed state Greyson was finding it hard to process the accusation thrown at her by the cadet in front of her.

“Oh fuck off Greyson, don’t play dumb with me. All the cadets see the way he looks at you and how he treats you differently from the rest of us! And don't act like you weren’t just smooching up to him in the common room, I saw it all”

Greyson felt sick to her stomach, if Lewis had seen it all she could have just lost the right to be here if she decided to run her mouth. She forced herself to turn around before muttering, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Lewis”

Lewis just scoffed, “yeah right, what you think you are exempt from the rules because your daddy was in the force too? Fuck right off Greyson, you’ve got another thing coming if you think you’re gonna get away with this”

Greyson felt her stomach flip, god, the stupid cadet behind her really just pulled that card. She knew she came from an army background but she definitely was not sleeping her way to the top, no matter what the other cadets thought. But at the mention of her father, the sickness turned to anger and she rounded on Cadet Lewis, giving her the harshest glare she could muster, lips curled up in a snarl and a finger pointed in the direction of the other recruit she growled out, “You bring my fucking father into the mess that you’ve made up in that thick skull of yours and I’ll use my name to my advantage. I’m sure your family would love you to return home with Dishonorable discharge plastered all over your report, wouldn’t they?”

Greyson had to to hold back her smirk when she noticed the way the other cadet clammed up and how her face fell. Yeah that's right, bring my father into this and I’ll use it to my advantage you useless trash. And without so much as another word Greyson walked out of the room, slamming the door to their room for emphasis. She was sure almost all the recruits in the block had heard what had just transpired but she honestly couldn’t care less. She made her way out of the barracks building and towards the gym, she needed to get the tension out of her muscles and a workout would be the easiest outlet.

In her haste and far too deep within her own thoughts, Greyson failed to lift her head to see where she was going, and as she rounded the final corner that led to the gym she came to an abrupt halt, slamming into a wall, or at least that's what it felt like. It wasn't until a pair of strong hands moved to steady her did she realize she hadn’t in fact run into a wall at all, just the widest chest she’d ever felt the pleasure of being this close too. She presumed it was one of the infantry boys, they were usually in the gym this late so it would make sense. Except, as far as she knew, none of the boys had the last name Carrillo.

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x oc #horacio carrillo x reader #narcos fanfic #modern au #chapter 3 #paper scissors rank

23 notes · View notes

faefictions · 5 years ago

Text

Overworked

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Word Count: 1605

Request: Hey darling! If you are taking requests, could I ask for one where the reader is Harrison’s gf and she’s really overworking herself until she faints and it’s all flully and cute? It’s totally okay if you don’t take requests or don’t to do it! Thank you xx 💗

(Ok, I changed it a lil, just like always, but I hope you still love it!!! Thank you for this request, it killed off my current writers block)

Sometimes being forgetful had its downfalls. Birthdates were in one ear out the other. Plans almost never followed through because you could never recall the conversations in which you had them. You could memorize song lyrics like nobody's business, but anything else, you would forget in an instant.

Your forgetful nature, mixed with your new job as a PA on set for one of the new Spiderman movies, produced nothing but trouble for you. In hindsight, this probably wasn't the best career for you. You probably shouldn't have chosen a job that required you to remember things for more than 5 minutes. But you found ways to make it work.

The notes app on your phone was riddled with endless little reminders. You had alarms for every single event or meeting you had to get to. You even had pictures of coworkers that you had discreetly taken, all labeled with their names and any important information.

Despite your system, there were a few things you still often forgot. You could go entire days without eating, not because you didn’t want to, it was just because you didn’t even think about it until you were home late at night and realized your last meal was almost 24 hours prior. You would be running all day and the second you sat down, you would realize that you hadn't sat all day. You were exhausting yourself simply because you couldn’t remember to take the time to take care of yourself.

Despite this problem, you had made a name for yourself on set. Everyone loved you within the first week. Your sweet personality and willingness to do whatever was asked of you was something hard to come by. The only other PA that was as well liked as you was Harrison Osterfield himself. It was hard not to like him. Even if he weren’t best friends with the star of the movie, he was hard working and cared about the people around him more than he did his job.

The two of you became friends fast, and the longer you worked together, the harder it was to keep your feelings in check. The last thing you wanted was a workplace relationship, but he was irresistible. And little did you know, he felt the exact same way.

It didn’t take long for him to notice that you would wear yourself out. The circles under your eyes got darker every week, and you were losing weight a little too quickly. He was worried about you, but every time he would try to address it, you would brush it off. You knew it wasn't healthy, but you were too embarrassed to talk about it. It felt ridiculous, being so forgetful that you just forgot to take care of yourself.

It got worse when filming started up in a different city. The routine of being in your own apartment was replaced by a foreign hotel room. Not only that, but production was more demanding in the new location. You thought it was impossible to work any harder, but man were you wrong.

After the first week, you practically fell asleep the second you hit your mattress, but the second week, you had to work later into the night.

On that Thursday, Harrison was sitting at a table, eating with Tom and Zendaya as he watched you scurry from place to place. He could tell that there wasn’t a spring in your step, like usual, and he worried that they were overworking you more than usual. He couldn’t recall seeing you stop to take a breath since you had walked on set 10 hours ago.

As Tom was mid-sentence, Harrison excused himself from the table and jogged to catch up with you.

"Y/n, wait up," he called after you, but you just barely slowed down to let him catch up.

"Where are you going?" He asked when he caught up with you.

"Just need to get a few props to set, on my way to find them."

"Why don't you give me the list, I can go find them."

"Nah, it’s fine. It'll only take me a minute."

"Y/n, take a break, I can handle it."

"Harrison, I'm fine. I just need to do this really quick."

You were too stubborn for your own good, so Harrison gave you a half hearted smile and let you be on your way. At least he had tried.

He finished eating and went back to set with Tom. He stood off to the side, watching the scene play out, but that's not where his attention was. Instead, he was focused on you as you spoke to one of the director’s assistants. You looked like you were about to be sick, but you were acting just as you normally would.

Harrison knew you needed to rest, but there was no way you were going to do it.

After the director called cut, you parted ways with the other assistant and started to walk towards the door, but about halfway there, it hit you.

You stopped in your tracks and steadied yourself on the nearest table. Your hearing began to fade, and all you could feel was an uneasiness in your stomach. Once Harrison saw you stumble, he ran, and he was just fast enough to catch you as you fell and blacked out.

Surprisingly, it didn't catch the attention of anyone but him and another PA, but he let them know he had it handled.

After a few seconds, your eyes fluttered open, and you looked up to meet Harrison’s concerned gaze.

"Hey, just rest for a second, please," he pleaded as you tried to get up.

You simply nodded, too confused about what was happening to form a proper response.

"What happened?"

"You blacked out. I told you that you needed to take a break," he chuckled, but there was no humor behind it.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asked.

You blushed, too embarrassed to admit that it hadn't been since the night before. You were running on an empty stomach and 2 cups of coffee. And when you told him that, you expected him to roll his eyes, but instead, he offered his hand to you.

He gently helped you up and steadied you as you walked outside. Despite the embarrassment of the situation, you couldn’t help but be a little flustered with how sweetly and slowly he walked with you, glancing down at you every few seconds to make sure you were still ok in his grip. When you reached the caterer, he sat you down at a table and commanded you to sit and stay put.

"I swear to god, if you get up while I'm gone, I will hunt you down," he joked.

So you stayed put, and you had to admit, it was nice to just sit for a minute.

When Harrison returned, he had a bottle of water and a small plate of food. He set it in front of you and sat beside you, not saying another word.

You ate in silence, and when you were done, you shyly turned towards him and thanked him.

"No need to thank me. You really need to be taking time out of the day to do this, though, y/n. I-I worry about you."

Your eyes began to tear up out of embarrassment. You knew it seemed pathetic to let it get this bad, but you were just so focused on working, it was hard to take time for yourself.

"Hey, come here," he whispered at the sight of your tears, and he gently pulled you closer to him.

He shushed you, trying his best to avoid gaining any attention from the people passing by. He held you tightly until you stopped shaking, and when your sobs quieted, he pulled away to wipe a tear.

"I'm sorry," was all you could muster up before tears threatened to choke you again.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Love. I just want you to take care of yourself."

"I know. And I know that I can do better. But it's just hard to remember sometimes."

He was a little dumbfounded by this. He didn’t know you as well as some, but he knew you enough to know that you had alarms for EVERYTHING. You were the most organized person he had ever met, and you made double sure to remember everything. But he guessed it never occurred to him that that must have stemmed from somewhere.

"Give me your phone," he gently commanded. You gave him a questioning look, but unlocked it and handed it over.

You watched as he opened up your alarm app, chuckled at the amount of alarms that were there, and then began to add a new one.

"1:00 PM Lunch with Harrison" set for every weekday.

"There, now you cant forget."

"But what if someone needs me to do something at that time?"

"Then you send them my way, and I'll take care of it for you. You have no excuse now," he chuckled.

You tried to hide your smile, and luckily, just as a blush was about to creep up onto your cheeks, someone called his name, letting him know he was needed back on set.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at 1,” he smiled and gave you a side hug before he got up and ran back to where he had left Tom a few minutes prior.

Sure enough, for the next week, you showed up at lunch everyday at 1PM, and sat with Harrison’s company while you finally got some rest.

Tag List: @embrace-themagic @fanficparker @baconlover001 @chloe-geoghegan1 @chonisberonica @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @alwaysbenhardysgirl @ghostofdrfluke @calum-hoodwinked-me @bucky-newtlock

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #tom holland #harrison osterfeild imagine #haz osterfield #haz #harrison #harrison osterfield fluff #request

240 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 6 years ago

Text

No Longer the Same {Sokka x Reader}

Words: 9k

Summary: For years, Sokka thought you and him were the same. He was wrong.

Genre: angst

Warning: nooooothing

Notes: hello you lovely lil humans. if you didn’t have a good day, i’m going to be upset :):):)

----

Children could be so innocent sometimes.

Of course, you were a perfect example of this. Young and naïve, trying to make things happen that could never happen in a million years; it was the hope within you. It burned bright when you weren't aware of the corruption yet.

There was plenty of said corruption, especially within the water tribes. Growing up, it was almost an everyday occurrence for you and your friends to stand by the edge of the ocean, waving off boats as they drifted off to sea. You couldn't talk to anyone who didn't have a relative fighting somewhere else, or died in the battles that were being fought just so you and your people could have basic rights, basic freedom.

Back then, it was all you knew. You thought it was normal. You would wave and smile and run around like nothing was happening, when in reality, everything was happening. People were dying. People were getting injured, losing limbs, losing their abilities to a force that could have been settled if other people could just see equality for what it was – necessary.

You grew up eventually, though. Not too fast, not slow enough that you were left blind to the truth until it was too late; your parents tried their hardest to keep you away from it all, but they knew the point where the line was drawn. They could see you gaining more and more interest in the world around you, and they weren't selfish enough to keep you out of that for long.

It was at this point you realised you were different, though nobody told you that. You figured that out on your own, and it didn't take long. Growing up, you saw it. Sensed it, but not the hostility that came with it, the implications, the burning feeling of worthlessness that could have easily taken you hostage if you let it.

Your mother bent down, pulled you into her chest. The sofa furs of her cloak pressed into your cheek, and you remembered that feeling more than anything else. Her voice was a whisper when it grazed your ear. “You don't need bending abilities to be special. You're perfect just the way you are.”

At the time, you hadn't even understood what she was telling you.

Sure, you had seen it. Everyone in your class at school could make cool things happen – water sprouting from holes in the floor, shapes appearing in the air that they could control with their hands. You were never been able to do that, but you'd never tried. At some point, you were even scared of it, wondering what kind of brain power it took to be able to do such a thing.

You didn't worry about it until your mother was telling you not to worry.

“But Sokka can't do any of that stuff either,” you said to your grandmother one day, following her around the kitchen with a plate of fish in your hands.

She barely even looked at you. She never really did. Her eyes lost their warmth a long time ago, almost immediately after Granda hadn't returned. “Sokka might learn,” she told you. “His sister and his grandmother are very strong water benders.”

You had frowned at the time, because the idea of Sokka having powers was beyond your imagination. That was one of the things you two bonded over – the fact that neither of you could really do anything. If he suddenly learned how to water bend, that would destroy everything.

You told him this the following day. The two of you were sat against one of the igloos, sharing an ice pop. You only managed to steal one from your grandmothers home that afternoon, so you were forced to share it with him. You didn't mind, despite the argument you put up.

Sokka screwed his chubby face up in confusion, licking a stripe up the side of the ice lolly before handing it back to you and wiping his sticky little fingers on his coat. His mother wasn't going to be very happy about that. “I don't think I'll learn.”

“Why?” A common question for a ten year old; whywhywhy?

Sokka shrugged. “Katara got the powers. I missed out.”

“But you're older than her,” you pointed out, handing the ice lolly back to him. “Surely that means you should get first pick?”

“Katara didn't pick. She was chosen.”

He said it so whimsically, reminding you of some creepy mage in a forest, ushering little kids into their shrine.

Sokka caught your confused expression and shrugged again; that was something he did often. Whilst you were constantly asking why, he was constantly shrugging. An answer to a question. Maybe that's why you were best friends.

“Well,” you started, “if you ever feel yourself getting water bending powers, tell me. I want to be the first to know.”

“Nosy.”

---

That was when you were ten.

The world had changed since then. Your thoughts had changed since then. Nothing was the same.

Sokka's mother died.

Correction, was killed. Right in front of Katara.

Your parents fled the water tribe, heading for the Fire Nation in a battle they refused to give you any details on. You were left with your grandmother. You loved her, hated the life she provided. She was sad. Losing her husband and her daughter was too much for her, and she left you to raise yourself.

Raise yourself you did.

Your seventeenth birthday was just round the corner, and as per usual, Sokka was more enthusiastic about the date than you were. You enjoyed the celebrations that came with a birthday, but there was a certain responsibility to it that stressed you out more than excited you. Sokka, on the other hand, shouldered that rationed excitement and took it for himself.

He jumped at you when he saw you, the day before your birthday. He had turned seventeen only a few months prior. His training for the army had started, and it was clear in the fresh build of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, the way he walked as if he was constantly stuck in a line of soldiers. You had laughed about it multiple times, and he had waved you off with a, “You won't be saying that when I'm avenging our tribe.”

Now, though, he was all floppy hands and goofy grins. He grabbed you by the shoulders, whirled you around and yelled, “Happy birthday!”

“It's not my birthday until tomorrow,” you replied.

Sokka rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Details, details.” He let his hands drop to his sides, and you didn't fail to notice the small blush that crept up his face when he stuffed them in his pockets. “Are you still coming over for your birthday dinner?”

You nodded. “As I do every year. I can't believe your grandmother still cooks for me.”

“She loves you.” Sokka wrapped an arm around your shoulders and the two of you started towards the Ice Market. “Your grandma is welcome to come if she wants. The invitation is still on the table.”

You were barely able to hide your wince. It wasn't as if Sokka was oblivious to the state your grandmother was in – he was just too polite to take any notice of it. He gave you pitying glances every now and then, asked you how she was, even asked her how she was, even if she only replied with a faint grunt of acknowledgement. Not an answer, but typically more than she gave you.

But Sokka was a firm believer in letting things run their course. In his mind, your grandmother would snap back to reality soon enough.

Soon enough had dragged out through the last seven years. He still had hope, bless his soul.

“I'll tell her,” you lied. “How's Katara's training going?”

Sokka grumbled, his grip tightening on your shoulders. “It's all she talks about. All she complains about.”

“It's not going well?”

Sokka shrugged. “She doesn't let me watch. It's just her and Grandma, but she's always in a bad mood when she gets home. I don't think she's finding it as easy as Mum or Grandma did back in the day.”

You frowned, remembering your mothers words all them years ago: she said Katara was a natural, just like her Mum, just like her grandmother.

“Odd,” you hummed. “I thought she was pretty good back when we were kids.”

Sokka nodded. “She was. Mum was teaching her.”

You looked away at that, heat creeping up your neck. This happened all too often – your tongue would get too loose and you'd make some irresponsible comment about childhood and growing up, forcing Sokka to think about the mother he had lost to the Fire Nation when he was only ten years old. To you, talking about your childhood was nothing, a quick get-away, even, but Sokka didn't have that luxury. He had ten years of memories that he wanted to block out purely because his mother was no longer present to share them with him.

“I don't know if Grandma's just getting old,” Sokka continued, his voice a sigh. “I don't think she's teaching Katara the moves right.” He raised a hand in defence, even though you hadn't spoken. “Don't get me wrong, I haven't seen them training. Katara could just be being dramatic – but I don't know. She's never in a good mood any more, and Grandma's always tired. I think the two of them need a break.”

“So why don't they? Surely if it's that much hassle-”

“Grandma thinks Katara needs to learn so she can be like Mum.”

Sokka's words startled you. Your head whipped round, but his profile revealed very little. This happened when he mentioned his mother; he shut down. He tried to hide how much it really hurt to talk about her. The only sign he gave you that he was feeling anything at all was the twitch in his jaw and tensing of his arm slung over your shoulders.

“She hasn't said that to Katara, has she?” you asked. “Your Mum was an incredible water bender. Even the suggestion that Katara can-”

But Sokka was nodding before you'd even finished your sentence. “I know. I know. That's what I told her but she's old and I'm pretty sure she's going deaf, so she won't listen.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. His arms tensed again; he seemed to realise that his muscles were a direct give away to how he was feeling, as he uncurled his arm from your shoulders and dropped it back to his side. “Katara already compares herself to Mum. She thinks she needs to fill in the gap she left.”

“That's impossible. She's fifteen. It took your mother years to master what she's trying to do.”

“I know.” Sokka hollowed out his cheeks. “I know.”

The conversation died when the two of you entered the gates of the market. As per usual, it was full – as full as it could be when it was located in a water tribe. The population was fairly small, but so was the market. The cramped space helped you believe that perhaps not everyone had gone off to war.

“Do you even want to buy anything?” Sokka asked. His voice was grim now, that twinkle leaving his eyes and his mouth turned down only slightly – just enough for him to be assured that you didn't notice, even though you did.

“I'm gonna get something for my dinner tonight, I think,” you replied before nudging him. “And you, mister, need to get me something for my birthday.”

Sokka raised a brow, glancing down at you. “What makes you think I haven't gotten you something already?”

“I don't know. Maybe it's the years of watching you be an unorganized mess.”

He hummed. “Fair point.” He nudged your arm, took a step forward as if to start sprinting, but his track was blocked when a small, chubby kid appeared in front of him. The two of you froze, looking down at him because he was looking up at you and for some reason, his angry face wasn't as cute as it should have been.

It actually startled you a little bit.

Sokka straightened up, taking a single step back so he was beside you again. “Hello.”

The boy sneered. His black hair was sticking up in all directions and he wasn't even wearing a coat – he was what the world would often describe as a mini thug, because clearly he had some nerve walking round without a coat on.

You and Sokka shared a confused glance before Sokka repeated himself: “Hello.”

The kid raised his hands and water exploded in your faces.

You spluttered, stumbling back into the crowd before Sokka managed to reach out and grab you, pulling you into his side. Water dripped from your nose, the ends of your hair, soaking into the thick material of your coat. Sokka was even worse, his jaw already clanking up and down with his new found jitters. His hair stuck to his temples, his eyelashes dripping.

You would have laughed if you weren't also soaked.

The kid, on the other hand, had no such qualms as he immediately let out a bellow that was far too deep for someone his age. He kicked ice up at the both of you before saying – in a kid-like sneer - “What are you gonna do about it? You can't even water bend!” His voice rose at the end of his sentence before he turned on his heel and barrelled down the length of the market.

You wrapped your arm around Sokka's upper arm before he could even think of chasing after him. “Let him go. He's about seven.”

“I don't c-”

“Sokka,” you said, sterner this time. “It's not worth it. Let him go.”

Sokka's eyes fluttered closed. He inhaled deeply, exhaled in the way you had taught him to when the two of you were only seven years old – you used to get scared when he got angry, so you taught him how to not be angry. At the time, you thought you were some kind of scientist.

The fact that he still used them same exercises almost made you jittery. Almost.

“Are you alright?”

Flicking your gaze up, you saw he now had his eyes open. Your fingers were still curled around his upper arm. Now that he looked calmer, you let your hand fall back to your side.

You nodded, running a hand through your hair. “I'm fine. It was just water. Nothing I haven't dealt with before.”

“That's not what I meant.” He reached forward, plucked at your soaked hair. “What he said. That didn't bother you, did it?”

It did. Kind of. It was a subtle kind of bother, settling in your stomach rather than your head, or your chest. If you concentrated hard enough on something else, you could ignore it.

You shrugged. “He was just a kid, Sokka. He probably thought he was being clever.” You tugged on the fluffy lapels of his coat. “Besides, we're not the ones that are gonna die of hypothermia.”

---

The morning of your seventeenth birthday, and nothing felt different.

Seventeen wasn't a special age. This was made clearer and clearer as you walked around your home, opening cupboards in search of something to eat – your grandmother hadn't gone shopping again.

Damn, you thought. That's seven years in a row now.

Your stomach growled, but you ignored it. You got dressed. You brushed out your hair. You kissed your grandmother goodbye and walked out the door. It was a daily routine, and the fact that you were another year older didn't change that. It was almost sad.

Sokka was waiting for you in your usual hideout, back leaned against Old Man Partridge's igloo. The elderly man was a myth amongst this place; the igloo itself had been abandoned ages ago, with Sokka's grandmother throwing a story onto it for the kids to enjoy; that was how Old Man Partridge came to be, and why this igloo was the place you and Sokka met up at every morning.

His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his lower lip juttering out. It was colder than usual these days, and even you had to pull your fluffy hood on over your head to keep the chill from clipping at your ears.

“Took you long enough,” he called over when you finally emerged over the hill into view. “I've been here for a good ten minutes.”

“As long as they were a good ten minutes.” You grabbed his hand before he could retort with some stupid comeback. “Let's go to the river. I'm starving, and Grandma didn't get anything from the market.”

Sokka raised a brow. “Again?”

You shrugged as if it was no big deal, as if your stomach wasn't growling, as if you weren't starting to get a headache from early morning hunger pains.

You and Sokka arrived at the rivers edge and sat down on the ice mounds. The water tickled your toes through your sandals, and you smiled down at it, as if somebody was smiling back up at you beneath the waves. You had half a mind to dip your hand in, but you didn't get the chance to before Sokka was suddenly sliding a fishing rod into your palm.

You looked up, startled. You didn't own a fishing rod of your own, couldn't afford one nowadays. Fishing was always just something you admired from afar, watching Sokka and Katara play about in the water until they finally collapsed and took their wooden fishing rods out of their bags and started fishing; you often craved to join them, but sticking to the sidelines was all you knew how to do. It was all you thought you could do.

But this was a brand new fishing rod. The wood was freshly carved, sparkling with a fresh layer of sealer. It was slightly rounded, but there was edges to it that fit against your fingers perfectly – and in the handle, your name was carved into the wood.

Your eyes snapped up, jaw dropping open, words evading you. You were a jumble of thoughts and emotions and words, but your mouth wasn't cooperating and you were fairly certain the sentence you wanted to say would come out as nothing more than a babble if you were to even try and communicate what you were feeling.

But Sokka was Sokka. You didn't need to talk for him to understand exactly what you were feeling.

He smiled sheepishly and looked down at his lap, pulling at a loose thread on his brown trousers. “Happy birthday.”

You don't remember moving. You don't remember squealing, don't remember dropping the fishing rod and wrapping your arms around Sokka's shoulders. You remember the impact, though, of your elbows slapping against the ice, the sound of Sokka's amused and startled laughter echoing right beside your ear. You wanted to bottle the noise up and pocket it, a little birthday gift to yourself.

You squeezed your eyes closed, hugging Sokka closer. He wrapped one arm around your waist, the other struggling to keep his back away from the ice. Eventually, he gave up and flopped backwards, you resting on top of him with your head nuzzled in the crook of his neck. The threat of tears was much too fierce for you to even think about looking up right now.

“Happy birthday,” he repeated through laughter. “That's from Katara, Grandma and me.” He paused. “It was mostly me, though.”

You pressed a kiss to the space just above his ear. Maybe it was a little too intimate. Maybe you should have aimed for his cheek, but you didn't care. You got up, dragging him up with you by the lapel of his coat. He was grinning from ear to ear, cheeks bright red, hands working into the fabric of his coat.

“You like it?” he asked.

You picked the fishing rod up, running your thumb over your name. “I love it.” You looked at him. “How did you know I wanted one of these?”

“I see you standing by the edge every time me and Katara come down here,” he replied. “You think you can hide, but I notice you everywhere.”

You pursed your lips. “I don't really know how to use it, though...”

Sokka's face lit up. He scooted over to you, grabbed the fishing rod from your hands and said, “Well, this is where I come in handy,” and the lessons began.

Sokka's excitement dribbled through each of his words. His smile illuminated the waters surface, distracted you for moments at a time until strict, stern Teacher Sokka would snap his fingers in your face to bring you back to the present. You would only smile, watching him close as he explained the basics of fishing, lost himself in his own teachings.

You knew why he was so enthusiastic, even if the reason was sad. You didn't like thinking about it, but when the opposite side of the spectrum was so giddy and excited, it was difficult to ignore; he had never been useful.

Of course, to you, he was everything. Your best friend. Your rock. The person you could turn to when the world was grey and it felt like nothing was going to get better. To you, he was the world and maybe more than that.

But to others, he was Sokka. He was the boy with the dead mother, the cheeky little sister, the boy who wanted to follow his father to the ends of the earth just to prove himself. He was the boy who joked around to the point where nobody believed in him; his training was a joke to most people, a way to keep him busy, to keep his hopes up. You heard the whispers, and they angered you.

And yet here he was, finally teaching something rather than being taught. He was good at it. He explained things clearly. He made sure you understood until the two of you were sitting side-by-side, feet dangling over the edge, toes barely grazing the ice cold water, fishing rods dipped into the cool waves.

“Who needs water bending?”

The statement startled you. “What?”

“We certainly don't,” he continued, more-so talking to himself at this point. “We don't have an ounce of power in our system, and it's working out pretty well for us, don't you think?”

“Where is this coming from?”

Sokka shrugged. He didn't seem upset, just reminiscent. “What that kid said to us yesterday...”

“Sokka...”

He shook his head, waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the idea that was lingering in your tone. “I'm not upset. He just got me thinking. People really do think we're useless sometimes, don't they?”

You stared at the side of his face, willing him to look at you so you could see just what it was that was bouncing around in his head. You were good at that, catching his emotions, trapping them in little bottles like they were fireflies and you were in darkness.

But he didn't turn to look at you. He kept his hard gaze on the swaying ocean in front of him, messing idly with the handle of his fishing rod.

“I'm sorry,” he grumbled. “It's your birthday. I shouldn't be saying this stuff.”

“It's okay.” Your voice is hoarse, quieter than you planned. Maybe it's because it wasn't okay. Maybe it's because you want him to be quiet, want him to stop putting so much attention upon something a seven year old boy had said the day before.

It almost made you angry, though you didn't want it to. You turned back to the ocean and fiddled with the engraving on the end of your fishing rod, willing yourself to calm down before the storm erupted and you were unable to stop it.

You came to Sokka to stop the nightmares. You came to Sokka to get a break. You came to Sokka because he was your best friend, your light at the end of the tunnel. Having his words corrupt that safe place made you want to stand up and run as far from this as possible, because if Sokka has let society get to him, then there's no way in hell any of the other tribe members are making it out alive.

The two of you sat in silence after that. Sokka knew he had said the wrong thing. He didn't apologise. You didn't ask him to. They were his feelings, whether you wanted them to be or not.

---

The pain was unbearable.

It pulled you from your sleep. It dragged you into consciousness and didn't let go of you until you were arching your back off the mattress and gasping for air which was too cold to inhale and too important to ignore.

It started in your stomach, the right side of your upper abdomen. Like needles. Needles, needles, needles, prickling your skin, puncturing organs. You tried to stand up, but your knees were weak and your palms were slick with sweat. You reached for your lamp, ended up knocking it off the bedside table; all you could do was watch it smash. The pieces of glass were piercing your stomach – that's what it felt like. Your insides were a mess of feeling and jumbled pain and your brain was a mess of feeling and jumbled emotions.

You tried calling out for your grandmother, but the words came out as a scrambled groan instead. You pulled yourself to your knees, balanced on the end of your bed, doubled over in the hopes that some pressure would help – it didn't.

It really, really didn't.

The world tilted and you fell with it. You tumbled to your side and screamed into the mattress as tiny fire ants ambushed your stomach, crawled into your throat, lit your skin up with invisible flames that engulfed your entire body. Your legs kicked out against your will. Your bare foot slammed into your bedside table and the wood splintered, but you were twitching and you couldn't stop it and it was painful and you had no idea what was happening.

It lasted only minutes before the big finale. You felt it building, and for a minute you thought the rising pressure in your throat was a scream hauling its way to the surface. When you opened your mouth, nothing came out.

When you opened your mouth, the world exploded.

The wall, made entirely of ice, shattered into a million pieces. Water burst from the floor. The darkness outside illuminated with thunder as it ripped across the night sky, and it was then that the pain started to fade. It was gradual, allowing you to sink back into your mattress even as you stared up at the damage in shock; your mouth was agape, your heart beating to the point where you thought it was going to beat straight out of your ribcage and take off across the ocean.

The wall was gone. Entirely gone, nothing more than a few ice shards digging into the ground. The floorboards were also ripped up, tiny spurts of water shooting up from beneath them.

Your fingers trailed over your stomach. Your mouth formed words – a cry for help, maybe – but nothing came out. The stars blinked back at you, the sound of the ocean louder than ever before. Your skin was sweltering, sweat sticking your pyjamas to your flesh.

Your grandmother stumbled into your room, took one glance at the wall and grunted in what you could only assume was displeasure.

You gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

---

It was still dark when you stumbled into Sokka's house with your arm wrapped around your shivering grandmothers form.

Sokka's grandmother wasn't going to let you sleep in a house that had no wall. As soon as she heard about what happened, she insisted you both come over and spend the night at her house, spend as long as you needed in her house until things were sorted.

Sokka wrapped a blanket round your shoulders. You snuggled into its warmth, even though your skin was burning and your eyes were burning and your stomach was still reeling from the abuse it had taken moments before.

Sokka sat down beside you. His knee brushed your own. The touch was too much, and you flinched away even though you couldn't pinpoint why.

He was fresh out of bed. You could tell by the haze in his blue eyes, the slouch of his shoulders, the mess of his black hair. He tried to hide it, because he knew you would feel bad for dragging him out of bed at this time, but you saw right through it.

“You should go back to sleep.”

Sokka grunted. “How did I know that was the first thing you were gonna say?”

“I'm fine.”

“Grandma told me what happened.” He pursed his lips, looking away. Your heart clenched. Even though you told him to go to bed, you needed him to be there for you right now. You needed him to not be weirded out by whatever description of events his grandmother had given him.

You nudged him. He turned back to you, caught your eyes and looked down at the place where your knees met.

“So you were a water bender this entire time, huh?”

The words don't compute for a second. They were true. There was no other explanation. Even your grandmother in her deluded, unresponsive state was able to acknowledge that something had happened – something explainable, something that made sense but something you didn't want to admit to because it was terrifying to think that the self-loathing you had relied on for all these years was going to be ripped away.

“M-my Grandma can help you, you know,” Sokka continued. “If you want to learn how to control it, she knows how.”

You shook your head. “I don't want to use it.”

“It's a part of you.”

“It hasn't been a part of me for seventeen years. I've never needed it. I've never wanted it. I especially don't want it now.”

“You sound awfully ungrateful.”

Your head whipped round. Sokka raised his hands in mock defence.

“I'm just saying. I would do anything to wake up one morning and be able to bend. Do you know what this means?”

There was genuine excitement in his eyes. It broke your heart.

He shook his head dumbly, gazing out at the living room – his living room. The living room you had infiltrated because you had lost control of yourself and destroyed the only home you ever had.

“I'm happy for you, Y/N,” he said. “This is gonna be the start of something awesome for you – I can tell.”

“It won't be.”

He frowned, forehead creasing. “Stop being so negative-”

“I don't want it.” Your tone was harsh, but you didn't reign it in. “I liked what we had before. I liked that we didn't have bending powers. I liked that we didn't have the responsibility.”

Sokka was silent for a little while. “If it's me you're worried about, don't. I'll be fine.”

You wanted to believe that. In every sense he had showed that he didn't care what others thought. He was perfectly happy being himself, with or without bending abilities, and yet when you looked at him now, you couldn't miss the twitch in his jaw, the way he clenched his hands, the way he refused to look back at you.

He was more hurt about this revelation than he let on. He was realising that maybe he was more on his own than he originally thought.

---

You knew word would get around fast. That didn't make you want it any more.

The onslaught of curious eyes and questions was nauseating. People popped up from nowhere, asking you howhowhowhow and you wanted to answer them, but there was no answer to give; you didn't know. You didn't want to know, because coming to the conclusion that you had gone from one end of the Weird Spectrum to the other was too much for your mangled brain to take right now.

Sokka glanced over at you, biting his bottom lip. He had been oddly quiet since the two of you woke up, though he tried to hide his emotions through smiles and hand-waving and pretending everything was alright when you knew it wasn't. Both of you knew it wasn't. Something was going on with you, and you didn't want to admit it.

“We can go back to my house,” Sokka said after yet another person had come up to bombard you with questions. “We don't have to stay out here. Grandma and Katara have gone to train-”

“It's okay.” Your words were abrupt, leaving no room for argument. “I'm fine.” Sokka nodded. He had the decency not to push you any further than you were comfortable with, but the thrill of confusion buzzed off him just as much as it buzzed from everyone else; the thing with Sokka, though, was that he knew you better than anyone in the entire world. He could take one look at your expression and just know then and there that talking about last nights mishap was the last thing you wanted to do.

So he let the subject drop.

He let the subject drop, and silence consumed you, and you were engulfed in the feeling of your fingers fizzing up, bubbling over with the need to do something.

It had been like that all morning. From the moment you opened your eyes, you felt different; in the beginning, you blamed it on the exhaustion. You had been woken up in the middle of the night with an indescribable pain, hadn't managed to go back to sleep until Sokka had crawled into bed behind you. But it was more than exhaustion that was clawing to the centre right now – it was power. Pure power that had waited seventeen years to finally be unleashed; it wasn't waiting.

His hand covered your own. The feel of his fingers dragged you back to reality, forcing you to release a breath you hadn't even realised you'd been holding. Slowly you shifted your gaze until you were looking at him, and he looked right back. There was a tilt to his head, a small smile on his lips that just said Sokka.

You flipped your hand around until your fingers were intertwining with his. “Maybe we should go and see Katara and your grandmother.”

---

“Oh, Y/N, sweetie, it's so good to see you out of the house.”

Sokka's grandmother slapped a kiss to your face, wrapping you in her arms before she had even glanced at her grandson. He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out as if to say gross before she pulled away from you and he forced a smile.

“And you,” she said, pointing a knobbly finger in his direction. “You shouldn't have kept them hidden away in your room all day. The poor thing probably has no idea what to do with their new abilities.”

You winced. “Actually, I don't plan on doing much with my abilities.”

His grandmother froze, her lips inches away from Sokka's cheek. Her grey eyes snapped round to look at you, and never before had you felt so under the scope. Sokka often wore his emotions on his face, but his grandmother's expression was made of steel.

That made it even worse.

You shifted awkwardly, glancing to the floor. “I just came here to ask if there was anything I could do to make this feeling go away.”

She slowly peeled herself away from Sokka, raising a brow. “Feeling?” “You know.” You showed her your palms as if that would explain it all. “The feeling. Like there's fire ants crawling up my skin or something.”

His grandmother stared at you. She wasn't looking at your fingers, wasn't interested in the awkward shift of your demeanour as you tried – and failed – to make yourself seem comfortable in her presence. Once upon a time, Sokka's grandmother had been almost like a second grandmother to you, but things had changed. She looked at you with a glint of appreciation in her eyes that wasn't there before – to anyone else, this would have been a good thing, but to you, it was different. It was strange and you didn't want to deal with the unfamiliarity of it all.

“It's normal, right?” Sokka stepped up beside you, grabbed your hand and inspected your fingers for himself. “Y/N isn't going to combust all of a sudden, are they?”

“The power wants released,” his grandmother replied. Her eyes were still burning holes into your own. “You can live with this feeling forever by not giving in, or you can learn to control your abilities.”

Bile rose in your throat. You squeezed Sokka's fingers, even though you didn't want to, even though he could already tell exactly what those words did to you. “I don't want to.”

“I can help you,” she said. “This isn't a journey you have to take on your own.”

“Yeah, Y/N!” Katara exclaimed. Throughout the conversation, she had been busy practising her own water bending abilities. “You and I can train together.”

You shook your head. “I don't want to.”

“Y/N, don't get-” Sokka began, but his grandmother cut him off.

“You're afraid of who you are, Y/N. That in itself is going to rip you apart from the inside out.”

Your breath was ragged. Your hands were trembling. You balled them into fists, tried to breathe, tried to remind yourself that none of this was a big deal. Water bending wasn't extinct. It wasn't going to kill you. Just because you were unfamiliar with it, didn't make it dangerous.

And yet you couldn't stop the images of dead bodies flashing through your mind. Battle fields. Faces of people you knew twisted into screams of agony as water burst from their insides and the world collapsed around them; having bending powers wasn't a blessing, and it certainly wasn't something you wished for.

Sokka leaned in. His lips were inches from your ear, his breath making your hair whisp around your face when he spoke. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You swallowed, brought yourself together before you squeezed his fingers again and turned back to the friendly old woman. “So there's nothing I can do about this feeling? I'll just have to put up with it?”

Her wrinkled face fell. It was disappointment, and it made your heart squeeze, but you couldn't take her offer.

“If that's what you choose to do, then yes,” she said. “It will only get worse.”

“Okay, that's enough now,” Sokka exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and turning you towards the exit. “This was a lovely little chat, but I'm afraid Y/N and I have places to be, people to impress, a failed birthday to celebrate! See you at dinner!”

You stumbled after him, hissed his name no matter how grateful you were for his distraction. He sent you a cheeky, knowing grin before the two of you disappeared. You pushed all thoughts out of your head, deciding then and there to just enjoy your time with Sokka.

---

You were going to die.

Fire ants. Fire ants. Fire ants, living in your skin, burrowing in your veins, sinking their teeth into your flesh. Fire. Fire. Fire. It burned. It ran up your arms. It sprinted through your system, snapping open your sweat ducts until your mattress was damp and your hair was glued to your forehead.

You tried to keep it in, tried to bottle up the scream that was fighting its way to the surface, but it was impossible. It ripped from your throat, sounded out through Sokka's bedroom, bounced off the walls and echoed back to you. It taunted you. It teased you, called you cowardly, made fun of you-

Sokka's fingers splayed across your stomach, pushing you back into the mattress even as you writhed and arched away from it.

“Y/N? Y/N, oh god, what's happening? What's going on?” His voice was distressed but distorted in your ears.

You shook your head ravenously, unable to form words that could answer his question. There was an answer there, playing on the tip of your tongue because you knew what the problem was – you felt it intuitively, scratching at your insides, refusing to let you think it was anything other than exactly what it was.

Sokka scooped you up in his arms. He ran. Your head bounced against his chest. Your fingers prickled. The fire ants were loose. They were loose and hungry and refusing to show you any mercy – you didn't deserve mercy. You knew you didn't. You made this choice, the choice to ignore what was building up inside of you, and it was finally coming back to bite you.

“Sokka,” you choked out, gripping his shirt. He didn't stop running, but his blue eyes flicked down. “Sokka, you need to let me down. This is dangerous. I need – I need to – I need to-” Your words were blocked by a scream.

Sokka winced, but did exactly as you told him. He set you down on the sofa, immediately ran his hands through your sweat soaked hair, pushing it away from your forehead. His hands were cold – they always were – but it did little to soothe the all-consuming burn that engulfed your body.

“What's going on?” he whispered, voice trembling. “Tell me what to do. Please tell me what to do.”

“I don't – I don't know what to d-do,” you choked out. “I think it's the – the w-water bending.”

His eyes lit up. “You ignored them. You said you didn't want to-”

“I know.” You winced, curling a hand around your stomach. “I know w-what I said, b-but I d-don't t-think ignoring th-them is an o-option any more.”

“Then you won't. I'll go get Grandma. She can help you.”

He stood up, darted towards the door before turning to look at you over his shoulder. He opened his mouth. There were words there, but he did not speak them. He didn't really need to. His blue eyes softened. He offered you a smile, and then he started back down the hall in search of his grandmother.

---

Training was difficult and tiring, and far from what you wanted to do, but it was the only option, and you were slowly learning to get used to it being part of your daily routine.

You trained alongside Katara, her grandmother yelling orders and directions from the corner of the river. Katara was good, but you were getting better and better everyday – Sokka's grandmother claimed it was because your powers had been waiting for the moment they could release themselves, whereas Katara had been gradually building throughout her entire life.

It was a relief. You no longer went to bed feeling one hundred pounds heavier, no longer woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Your grandmother was no longer scared of you. Everything was working out exactly how it should have.

But Sokka was a different story.

He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well. He was a sensitive man, whether he showed that to the world or he didn't. You could read him like an open book, and the fact that he was doing everything in his power to avoid the topic of your new-found water bending abilities spoke volumes.

He was feeling more worthless than ever before, and it broke your heart to see.

You invited him to watch you train that afternoon, purely because you knew he had nothing else to do. The idea of him walking around on his own, waiting for you to finish up with that sad expression on his face made your heart clench; having him beside you would be refreshing, would maybe open his eyes to what it was you were actually doing.

He stood by the waters edge, hands stuffed in his pockets and head tilted back. His eyes were closed, the sun beaming down on his already golden skin, illuminating it even more. His throat bobbed every time he swallowed. It was mesmerizing.

Water crashed into the side of your face.

You stumbled, just barely managing to grab on to a branch and tug yourself back onto the rock you were balancing on. A single look at Katara told you she found her surprise attack very funny.

“I wasn't ready,” you grumbled, waving your hand and tossing water back in her direction. It didn't hit her face; you didn't want it to. It soaked the bottom of her dress, made her frown, and that was good enough for you.

“He looks like a lost puppy over there, you know,” Katara said. “Why did you invite him here in the first place?”

You raised a brow. “He has every right to be here.”

“I never said he didn't. He just looks like he doesn't actually want to be here.” You frowned and glanced over your shoulder; there he stood, still as a statue, eyes darting to and fro. He did look incredibly awkward. As soon as he saw you looking at him, he forced that fake smile onto his face and waved. You waved back slowly before turning back to Katara.

“I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been like this since-”

“Since he woke up to see you dying at the side of him.”

You winced. “I didn't think it scared him that much...”

“He was terrified.” There was disbelief in her tone, as if she couldn't believe you would think any differently. “Like, terrified. I've never seen Sokka like that – trembling, crying, barely able to talk kind of terrified.”

Your heart clenched. “It was a crazy night.”

“Plus, it can't be very nice to be in your shadow now.” She said this casually. However, your heart jumped.

Your head whipped round, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean? Sokka isn't in my shadow – he's never been in my shadow.”

“He is now,” said Katara. “You're all anyone talks about nowadays. People don't even care that Sokka went up a rank in his training. They don't even care that he now knows how to tie fourteen different types of knots in five seconds flat, and then undo them in ten seconds flat. He was really proud of himself, and nobody else was.”

Your mouth was running dry, mind reeling at a thousand miles per hour. Of course you had listened when he was talking about these achievements. You were the first person he told, and you had given him the exact same enthusiasm back – that didn't mean everyone else had, though.

You swallowed down the golf ball sized lump in your throat, flicked some water up before you mumbled, “I think I need to go and talk to him.”

Katara's eyes lit up. “Now? We're still training!”

But you were already jumping from rock-to-rock, back towards the waters edge. “I'll make it up to you. I promise!” For now, you had more important things to worry about.

Once you made it back to land, you headed directly for Sokka. He raised a brow, opened his mouth to say something but you gave him no chance; you looped your arm through his and dragged him back into the trees.

“Woah, woah, woah!” he exclaimed, stumbling to catch himself. “Is your training over already?”

“I can tell when you don't actually care, you know,” you said.

He frowned. “Alright then... what's wrong?”

“You know I love you, right?” It was the first thing you could think to say, the first message you needed to make exceptionally, exceptionally clear.

Sokka blushed, stuffed his hands back into his pockets. It made your heart ache with fondness. “I know that.”

“And you know I'll keep loving you no matter what happens, right?”

“Y/N, what is this about?”

“Right?”

Sokka looked up and nodded. “Right.”

“The fact that I've got water bending abilities doesn't change anything between us. And it doesn't make you any less of a person.”

His face fell. It was the moment he realised what this conversation was really about, the moment he understood that these emotional mood swings he had been dealing with weren't as subtle as he thought – at least not to you.

“Y/N...,” he mumbled, flicking his eyes over your shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

“You're incredible,” you said. Even you were startled by your own words, but pushed on because you were telling the truth. “You're brave, and talented, and you have every bit of potential to do whatever you want to do, whether you do it with water bending or not.”

He blushed again. Your heart beat raced. “It would be better if I could do it with water bending-”

“Sokka, no. Get that out of your head right now.”

“Don't be so bossy.”

You closed your eyes, inhaled slowly. “I just – I hate the thought of you thinking you're less than amazing just because you can't water bend.”

For the first time in a long time, Sokka's breath caught in his throat. You heard it, the sharp little gasp that he tried to cover with a cough, failing miserably in the process. His eyes burned holes into the side of your head until you were all but forced to look at him, get a glimpse of what was going on behind the false emotions he put on show.

He stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Why do you care about me so much?”

The question startled you, because the answer was obvious. It was a light constantly flashing in every word you said, a little kid yelling for attention – that was what you always set it up to be.

“Because I love you,” you whispered, and maybe the words meant more than you let on, and maybe he knew, but he said nothing and you were okay with that.

Sokka's eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. He was quiet. His hand drifted up, gently cupped your jaw, his thumb trailing beneath your eye and it was only then did you realise you were getting emotional. The tears were dotting your water line; you blinked to get rid of them, but they were already seen.

Sokka smiled lightly. It wasn't much, barely a hint of what you knew he could show you, but you didn't complain. It looked real. It was real. You hadn't realised just how much you craved to see a genuine look of happiness on his face these past few days.

“I'm sorry.”

Your eyes snapped up. “What?”

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, voice still soft, hand still pressed to your cheek. “I should be happy for you. You're a water bender – that's such a big deal, and all I could think about was the fact that I'm on my own now.”

“You're not on your own.” The words were ripped from your chest, desperate.

He chuckled breathily. “I know. I know that. Of course I know that, god, but I already felt so useless before – at least I could feel useless with you by my side.” He looked away, smile fading. “I can't do that any more.”

“You're not useless. You've never been useless.” You reached up and pressed your hand over his own. His palm was firm against your cheek now, but his touch was still soft, still full of care. “Remember when we were younger, the night your mother died and your father went away?”

Sokka stiffened. You gripped his fingers a little tighter, urging him not to let the memories whisk him away, urging him to stay with you.

“Do you remember?” you whispered.

Sokka bit his bottom lip, nodded anyway.

“Katara was distraught. She was paralysed, Sokka, and you can't tell me she wasn't, because I saw her that night. I saw her curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth – and I saw you gathering up all of her stuff, grabbing the canned goods and the good fish. I saw you doing everything you could to make sure she was okay.” Your other hand came up and rested on his heart. “I see you nowadays, training and doing what you love, and I know you're gonna make this world a better place. You're gonna be part of the reason we finally find peace in the long-run. I know you are.”

Sokka's heart raced beneath your fingers. His eyes never left your own. He didn't once step away from you; it was weirdly perfect. The weight of words could sometimes be crushing, but Sokka stood up straighter now, pulled up by the reassurance that he was enough, always would be enough, always had been enough.

“Do you think Mum would be proud of me?” His voice cracked. Your heart shattered.

“More proud than I will ever be able to tell you,” you whispered.

“Are you proud of me?”

Your breath hitched. “God, yes.”

And he kissed you.

Unexpectedly and unpractised but perfect in every sense of the word. His lips fit over yours, his nose brushing your own, his eyes fluttering closed once he realised that you wanted this just as much as him; it was a risk. Years upon years worth of friendship could be destroyed in a matter of seconds, but as soon as his lips met your own, as soon as his hands were curling over your waist and dragging you into him, you knew that couldn't happen because you and Sokka were different, and the world was just going to have to put up with that.

Water exploded from the river, tiny droplets spilling over the trees and dousing you and Sokka, but neither of you pulled away. Sokka merely grinned against your mouth, water dripping from the point of his hair which had now fallen loose from the bun he always had it in. You giggled, breaking the kiss – Sokka had the nerve to groan at the disconnect.

“That was you, wasn't it?” he whispered.

You nodded, still grinning brighter than you ever had before. “I think so.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “My talented little water bender.”

#avatar the last airbender #atla #atla fic #atla fanfic #sokka fic #sokka fanfic #sokka atla fic #sokka atla fanfic #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar the last airbender fanfic #avatar fic #avatar fanfic

716 notes · View notes