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jj-babebank · 3 years

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Room 107 // chapter I // JJ Maybank (smut)

I have started my first JJ story, which will consist of several chapters that I will constantly be updating. The story picks up where season 2 leaves us. TW: Contains mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence.

Chapter 1 can be found below. Oh, and - please feel free to submit requests, I tend to write a lot ;)

Enjoy xx

Chapter 1 - La Guardiana

Days had passed since the Pogues had last seen civilisation, maybe even weeks. The sun was hotter than ever, with close to no wind to mask the warmth. JJ was taking this particularly badly.

“I’m so done with eating bananas, man,” he moaned, kicking a pebble as he trotted a little behind the rest of his friends, “Can’t we just stumble across an oasis or something and end up in, like, an actual city?”

As if on command, his friends stopped in their tracks, the girls awing and the guys smiling happily.

“We just might, JJ,” said John B, looking at the city unfolding itself in front of them in the distance, “We just might.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m actually starving,” laughed Sarah, nudging John B’s arm, “Don’t tease!” “Hey, so am I,” he cooed, “First joint we find, we’re going in for food.” Kiara rolled her eyes, “As much as I would love to accept that offer, let me remind you that we have no money.” Sarah nodded, “Mhm, nothing at all.” “Nada,” John B looked at the two girls sternly, “And when has that ever stopped us exactly?” Kiara rolled her eyes once again, smirking at her friend, “Alright, I suppose a good meal would give me the energy I’d need to run a marathon after getting caught not paying.”

The group continued walking down a not too busy street, studying the buildings, looking for a restaurant, cafe, diner - anything, really. They hadn’t had a proper meal in God knows how long and they were famished. They couldn’t help but notice how all the buildings on the street were of the same height - no more than four storeys each, all painted in different colours. If they hadn’t known any better, they’d have thought that they had left the United States of America altogether, although one thing was certain - they were definitely not in the Outer Banks anymore.

The street wasn’t crowded at all, there were hardly any cars or people lurking about. JJ concluded that this was probably an unpopular area of whichever city they were in. This would also explain the lack of supermarkets and restaurants. He really wanted to ask his friends to stop for a little break - his throat was so dry and his legs could barely hold him up anymore, but he knew better. The longer they walk, the faster they’ll find what they are looking for. Having no indicator of the time on them wasn’t helping either, hell, they could have been walking for 12 hours for all he knew, and with no result.

“Maybe we should just ask someone,” Pope suggested, “Neither of us is a wanted criminal anymore, I’d say we have nothing to worry about.” John B smirked at his friend’s remark, but ultimately agreed to ask the first person they ran into where the nearest food joint was. Turns out, they were standing right in front of it.

“La Cubanita Hotel and Restaurant” it spelled out in bold, red letters. The building was narrow and a light shade of blue, totally contrasting the obnoxiously coloured sign planted in front of it. Much like the rest of the buildings on the street, it had no more than four floors, each consisting of a row of Spanish windows with brightly coloured frames. The Pogues looked at each other with a hint of uncertainty before John B lead the way into the building.

On the inside it looked like a typical diner - tiled floor, red and blue booths, a long bar accompanied by bar stools and, cheesily enough, a boombox. JJ guessed that the way to the hotel was through the back, but he didn’t put too much thought into it. The place seemed dead, with only one of the booths being busy. It was either an off-peak hour or this city was actually a ghost town.

The group sat at one of the booths on the other side of where the other people were and JJ took a second to observe them. A group of bikers, all wearing stereotypical biker outfits from leather jackets down to bandanas. They were in their mid 50s and were all smoking indoors, drinking what looked like whiskeys, despite of the blazing sun still very much being out. JJ had to give it to them though, they did look pretty darn cool if he did say so himself, and those cigarettes looked eerily appetising to him at this given moment. Oh, what he’d give to have a sip of whatever they were having and a long, much needed drag of one of their cigarettes. He was so lost in his daydream, he barely realised Kiara poking him in the arm.

“JJ,” she urged, “Waitress is here!” In this moment JJ turned his attention to the new subject in question, their waitress. She was standing at the foot of their booth, wearing her uniform, black and red, holding a pen and a notepad, chewing a piece of gum, waiting for his order. Could this place get any more stereotypical? JJ thought to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, handsome?” She said, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Uh…” JJ fumbled with the menu, “I’ll just have whatever they’re having.” He said, pointing at the bikers in the booth across from theirs. The woman rolled her eyes, popping her bubblegum. She took the rest of the Pogues’ orders before disappearing somewhere behind the bar. JJ followed her with his eyes, blocking out the conversation his friends were currently having. The waitress came back out of what he assumed to be the kitchen and handed the paper with their orders to another girl behind the bar. JJ guessed she was the barmaid, and boy was she a bit of him.

She was wearing the same uniform as her colleague, although JJ had to admit - it looked a whole lot better on her, at least from what he could see from above the bar. Her hair was long and brown, half of it tied up effortlessly, and slightly messily, although JJ didn’t mind one bit. He watched her as she took the paper from her colleague and went to fetch the drinks written on it. He couldn’t make out what exactly colour her eyes were, and quite frankly - he didn’t really care, she was gorgeous regardless of what her eyes looked like, and she looked around his age. Had the sun and heat gotten to his head, or was it just the fact that he hadn’t touched a female in so long, he didn’t know, but if there was one thing JJ Maybank was notorious for, it was his ability to pull any girl his heart desired effortlessly. This is why he excused himself from the table and, albeit his friends’ confused looks and comments, he made his way towards the bar, sliding into one of the stools directly across from the girl.

She looked up at him, “Can I help you?” “Brown…” JJ mumbled to himself. “Excuse me?” She said, this time sounding slightly annoyed. Her eyes were brown, JJ thought, brown and sexy. He coughed, trying to compose himself and gave her his signature Maybank stare. It worked wonders back home, surely it would work wonders now again. “Name’s JJ,” he said suavely, “I’m not from around here-“ “Clearly,” she muttered, picking up a bottle of whiskey. JJ assumed it was for him, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, JJ?”

JJ smirked, “What can I say, I have the face of a boy but the body and mind of a man.” The girl snickered under her nose, “Sure. Well since you’re here, make yourself useful and bring your drinks over to your friends,” she gave him a fake smile, placing a tray with their orders on it in front of him, after which she turned her back to him and walked towards the back of the bar. JJ was too busy observing her behind to notice the other waitress standing next to him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Should I take that or will you?” She said, waking JJ up from his everlasting daydream. “Oh, uh, don’t sweat it…” he said, picking up the tray and carrying it over to his friends’ booth. “So much for customer service,” Sarah laughed. “And to think my dad says I’m hostile to our customers,” Kiara muttered out. JJ took his seat next to her, his eyes never leaving the bar. “La Guardiana,” Pope read out loud, “This place is called La Guardiana, and apparently we’re somewhere in Florida.” “Florida?” John B said, confusion dripping through his words. Pope nodded, pointing at some text on the bottom of the menu.

La Cubanita Hotel & Restaurant **, 97 Diego’s Crescent, La Guardiana, FL

“Holy shit, we’re in Florida!” John B whisper yelled. Sarah laughed at his reaction, “Calm down now, Sancho, let’s not draw any attention to us,” “Yeah, you might wanna tell Casanova here that,” teased Pope, nodding his head in JJ’s direction, “Was it really worth it to potentially blow our cover just to talk to that girl?” JJ snapped at Pope, “Hey, man, just ‘cuz you don’t have the nuts to go over there and talk to her yourself,” “Yeah, I really want to attract the staff’s attention, you know, even more than we already are, seeing as we’re the only other busy table at this place.” “Your food,” the waitress from earlier was back with some of the Pogues’ orders. They waited for her to be out of earshot and JJ spoke up, “Relax, P, I bet you I can charm the pants off that girl and we won’t even need to sneak out without paying!” Pope gave JJ a fake smile, “Mhm, I’m sure she’s gonna be so deep under your spell she won’t even notice us leaving without paying a cent." JJ rolled his eyes, picking up a toothpick from the table and placing it between his teeth. “Might even offer us a place to crash, you know, because she’ll be so captivated by you.” Pope continued to tease. “Yeah, chicks totally dig this whole I’m homeless and I haven’t properly showered in like 15 days look you're going for,” Sarah joined in on the teasing. Kiara laughed and added, “Yeah, and the bit that’s gonna fully seal the deal for her is that you have literally nothing to offer her, like 0 dollars.” Everyone was laughing while JJ just crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to look out the window, “Talk all you want, guys, but once we get that gold back, you’ll see who’ll dig what.” “The rest of your order,” he recognised the girl’s voice. It was her bringing their food over this time. She placed John B’s plate in front of him and then made her way around the table, next to where JJ was sat. She handed him his plate and bent down slightly, so that her lips were on the same level as JJ’s ear, “Next time you decide to share your criminal plans, you might wanna talk a bit more quietly.” She whispered, setting his cutlery down for him, “Oh, and, you might be charming wherever you come from, but your friend’s right. That shit doesn’t work around here.” She said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away. JJ didn’t waste time sitting around to listen to his friends pass comments about what had just happened, he downed his whiskey and practically chased after the girl. “I’m guessing you’ll want another one?” She said, not even turning around. JJ wondered how she knew that he was there. When she turned to face him, the bottle of whiskey was in her hand. “Let’s see… Do I pour you another one and close my eyes about you planning to leave without paying, or do I do what anyone else in my position would do and call the police on you? Hmm…” she pretended to think, her eyes never leaving JJ’s now panicking ones. “Please don’t call the cops,” he blurted out, the whiskey hitting his brain and making him stress out more than he wanted to admit to, “Look, we - we were in a boat accident, we don’t even know how we got here, hell - we didn’t even know where we were up until 10 minutes ago! And we - we don’t have any documents on us, we don’t have any sort of identification, what would you -“ “Relax, kid,” the girl smirked, picking up two glasses and pouring a generous amount of whiskey in both of them, “I won’t rat you out.” She said, handing JJ one of the glasses and raising hers for a toast. JJ clinked his glass with hers, a large smile growing on his face, his dimples becoming very prominent, “Thank you, really… That means a lot.” The girl took a moment to observe JJ, then to look at his friends having a heated conversation at their booth, all of them practically stuffing their faces with food in an almost animalistic sort of way. Could this boy really be telling the truth? Could these kids have been lost at sea with no place to go? She looked back at JJ who was also looking at her. Despite the smile plastered on his face, she could clearly see that he was extremely nervous still. “Hey,” she said, “I told you to relax, didn’t I. I won’t charge you for your food, in fact… I might even have a place for you to sleep and clean up tonight.” JJ’s eyes grew wider at her words, “You what?” She leaned in closer to him over the bar and lowered her voice so that he would be the only one to hear, “Hotel upstairs, my aunt owns it. She’s currently out of town with my cousin. Should be back next Thursday. I think I can fit you and your friends in. You just have to promise to be on your best behaviour.” She said, pulling away and taking another sip from her drink. JJ couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was too good to be true. She was hot and she was willing to help? This must have been his lucky day. Sarah could suck it, and so could the others. Clearly this girl was into him. Why else would she be offering to help? “So, uh, what’s in it for me?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. The girl opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the other waitress groaned from behind her. “Samara, how many times do I have to tell you?” Her croaky voice rang. The girl, who JJ had just learned was called Samara, rolled her eyes and repeated with her colleague, “No drinking on the job, yeah yeah, I know. But Heather’s gone and so is Conner, so who can tell me what to do, really?” She said, finishing what was left of her whiskey, “Besides, Georgia, as far as I’m concerned, since they’re both gone, that leaves me in charge, no? Now get back to work,” she said, making her colleague roll her eyes at her. Samara turned around to face JJ again, giving him a wink, before disappearing into the kitchen. JJ couldn’t believe his luck. He swung his arm over the bar and picked up the bottle of whiskey to pour himself one more drink before returning to his friends. “Guys-“ JJ tried getting their attention. “So what are we supposed to do now? We’re totally screwed!” “They’re gonna call the police on us, hell, they probably already have! The cops could be on their way!” “Guys!” JJ yelled, catching even the bikers’ attention. His friends looked up at him, worry filling all of their eyes. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to tell you, oh, and Sarah? You can eat your words.” He smirked before telling them what had just happened. “Hold on,” said Kiara, her face revealing her confusion, “So this random girl in this random place just randomly said that we can crash here until when?” “Next Thursday, or was it Tuesday? What day is it today?” JJ scratched his head. “JJ!” Kiara slapped his arm, “What if this is a trap? It sounds too good to be true doesn’t it? Like, what’s in it for her? We don’t even know her! What if she’s a murderer or something?” “She’s right, you know,” Cleo chimed in. “She is,” said John B, “But we have nothing to lose, literally.” Pope nodded, “I’d usually agree with Kie, but John B’s right. We have nothing to lose. And what if she calls the police? What could even happen then? We get put in jail for agreeing to sleep in a hotel for free? Come on, guys, I’m sure we can all agree that a bar of soap and a normal bathroom would do us good. I mean, we stink.” Everyone laughed at Pope’s remark before Kiara turned to JJ again, “So what’s the plan?” Realisation just struck JJ that he didn’t in fact know what the plan was. Samara had told him virtually nothing about how any of this would go down. Where were they supposed to meet? Was she going to take them to their rooms? Would they all be sharing one room? He was so busy thinking about how all of this would go down, he barely noticed Samara herself passing him a note. It was taken out of her colleague, who JJ now knew to be Georgia’s notepad. The note read in messy handwriting:

Bring your friends to the lobby. Straight down the hallway by the bathrooms.

JJ turned the piece of paper towards his friends and they all got up, rushing towards the hallway by the bathrooms.

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx #pope heyward #kiara carrera #jj one shot #jj smut #obx smut #sarah cameron #john b #jj x oc #netflix #love #smut

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melisusthewee · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday - Let’s Talk Music

Thank you to @cleverblackcat @kittynomsdeplume @noire-pandora and @morganlefaye79 for tagging me!

I don’t have any writing to really offer today. I’ve been trying to work on that Haven fic but unfortunately Aloysius hasn’t been co-operating with me despite all my best efforts to make him speak. I may take a break from writing and pivot towards completing some art memes, but Wednesday just sort of crept up on me and here we are. So instead, I’m sharing something that both is but also isn’t a work in progress?

It’s “in progress” because while I’m happy with where it currently is, I’ve said that about playlists and soundtracks before and later changed them. I’ve worked hard on this and talked several friends’ ears off about songs I’ve heard or artists that seemed to work and thanks to their feedback I think this is a really good one. It’s gone through several edits as well, and may potentially even go through more down the road. So I’m saying this counts for today.

If you give it a listen (and I hope you do because I’m very proud of it so far), I hope you enjoy it and maybe discover an artist you didn’t know before. It clocks in at around 51 minutes and features 13 tracks which span Quinn Trevelyan’s story and important events of the main game through to Trespasser.

If you are interested, below the cut is a list of tracks and a brief blurb or description about who or what they’re meant to represent. I was going to go into things in more depth and talk about how I built it, why I picked the songs I did, and the B-Sides that were left on the cutting room floor, but after realizing I had written nearly 4 pages about just as many songs, I realized it was too much for anyone to read. So below is just a very brief summary and I think that most of the music would speak for itself, but I’m happy to expand more on anything that anyone finds either interesting… or confusing. (There is also Solas content because I knew a few of you love that.)

You have to click on this sentence to go to the playlist because Tumblr’s coding for “Read More” seems to be conflicting with the HTML code to embed a functional playlist. Because of course it is.

Quinn’s tarot card is the Wheel of Fortune as his story is a series of unpredictable highs and lows. What the Maker giveth, He also taketh away. The playlist follows that trend of highs and lows with upbeat songs followed by darker or more mellow ones. Whenever I create a playlist, I try to think of a general tone or sound that I want to be carried through the soundtrack. I want the overall genre or sound to tell the story as much as the individual songs. Because of that, you’ll see artists repeat a couple of times, and when they do it’s always intentional. You’ll also notice that most of the vocalists are male. This was again intentional because this is Quinn’s story, and he’s a man. They are his songs and I wanted the vocals to reflect that.

The Cult of Dionysus - pre-Conclave Quinn

Quinn at his most basic and stereotypical before any character development happens whatsoever - poppish, upbeat, and maybe just a little obnoxious. He smokes, he drinks, he fucks, and nothing else matters.

The Sound of Silence - Aloysius’ Theme

I like Aloysius as a more practical view and examination of Quinn and the cult that grows around him. He affords an opportunity to look at Quinn both as the Herald but also as just a person. He is stoic and mild-mannered, a dutiful soldier, and an excellent foil for Quinn. This is also absolutely a reference to an Arrested Development joke.

Isle of Dogs - Quinn’s true theme

Quinn is a walking disaster constantly falling victim to his own hubris. There’s a morose sort of resentment to the lyrics, of someone who is constantly struggling against the tide. In a lot of ways, this is basically a reaction or push back to all the crap I have put him through.

Providence - “In Hushed Whispers”

There are no Templars here. The first few lines relate a lot to the dismissal the fledgling Inquisition receives from what remains of the Chantry, but the rest of the lyrics are very much about the mages and Fiona’s dealings with the Venatori.

Seven Devils - “In Your Heart Shall Burn

No male vocals in this one to symbolize the change in perspective. This is both a bit of an easy and obvious choice for this story beat. Female vocals for Corypheus might seem strange, but when I created my Warden’s soundtrack I tended to use powerful choruses and female vocals for anything related to Blight, Archdemons, or the darkspawn. I carried that idea over to this as Corypheus is one of the seven Magisters.

Caesar - becoming the Inquisitor

This is a softer and quiet interlude in the wake of the loss of Haven and struggle through the snow. If the previous song marks the end of the first act, this song marks the beginning of the second.

King - “Here Lies the Abyss”

In my written world state, Alistair is both the king and the Grey Warden contact (this goes back to that longform fic I am working on). I suppose it’s a bit unfair because in the end that has a major impact on why Quinn makes the decision he does at Adamant (a rather threatening letter from the Warden helps too). Think of this as a duet between Quinn and Hawke.

My Type - the love interest

“Here Lies the Abyss” was completed first, then a romance triggered, then “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts”. This is that sort of inbetween interlude and is very much inspired by how I may have flirted with multiple characters a little too much and basically triggered several romances at once. I also went into Quinn’s playthrough having no idea who I was going to romance and just let him shop around. And it came down to a coin flip in the end, so “you have a pulse and you are breathing” is pretty much the only standards he has.

Boheme Supreme - party at Halamshiral

All I have to say is that I love techno swing, every single lyric in this song is perfect, and I want you all to picture Quinn Trevelyan walking into the Winter Palace with his Inner Circle entourage around him, dressed up in that outfit I drew with that peacock feathered cap and having a drink in his hand throughout the entire night’s affair.

Hell’s Coming With Me - “Doom Upon All the World”

This is the climax of the main game, the rematch between Quinn and Corypheus which I have to imagine is more impressive in concept than it was in game. I chose the dialogue option when Corypheus calls Quinn an imposter, “I am the Maker’s chosen” as his final challenge. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that this main is actually very Andrastian. But he is, and the lyrics, “I am the righteous hand of God/And I am the Devil that you forgot/And I told you one day will see/I’ll be back I guarantee/And that Hell’s coming with me” are the perfect declaration.

Paradise - Jaws of Hakkon & The Descent

Another interlude song. If the previous one is triumphant than this one is the beginning of a bad turn. In the interim between the events of the main game and the Exalted Council, things begin to go wrong in little ways. His relationship with Cassandra begins to break down, eventually ending in the two of them having frequent spats and going their separate ways after returning from the Frostback Basin. This song is deceptively sarcastic about how good things are.

I Still Love You, Judas - Solas’ Betrayal

Solas… oh, Solas. Does this song indicate a very complicated and layered relationship between Quinn and Solas? Yes! Have I attempted to unpack any of this? Nope! Have fun with this one!

Tagging for this week: @kita-lavellan @silvanils @nivenor-krosis @drag-on-age @rosella-writes @inquisitoracorn

Battle Cries - Quinn and Cassandra

I saved this one for the very end because it is a story within a story. It is sad and bittersweet, but also not. This entire thing feels to me like a duet between Quinn and Cass on what was good, what could never last, and that it’s all over now but that’s okay. Because “this isn’t a breakup, dear heart, it’s a season finale.” Does this mean that Quinn sounds like Joey Batey when he sings? Sure, why not.

#wip wednesday #oc: quinn trevelyan

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riasei · 4 years

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Fuck Buddies

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem! reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 5,093

note: I honestly didn’t expect to be back so soon with more filth, but here we are. I’m definitely going to hell for this one, considering I wrote most of it while my family was watching Easter mass downstairs :) but hey, I’ll see ya’ll there considering you guys are reading this. This is pure self-indulgence, and I have no regrets.

summary: Despite only being fuck buddies, Katsuki feels the need to remind you of your place.

°✩❇✩°

The heavy boom of bass resounds off the walls of the club, sending fire alight through your veins. Multicolored strobe lights flash across sweaty bodies on the dance floor, illuminating everyone in a provocative glow. Off to the side, you occupy a seat at the rather empty bar, fidgeting with a half-empty glass.

Suddenly, a hot body slams into your side, sweaty skin pressing against your own exposed flesh. A loud giggle explodes from the culprit, and you turn to see your close friend, Mina, has come up next to you. The pink-haired girl stumbles slightly before hoisting herself up into a seat and grinning at you toothily.

Mina is quick to order herself a drink, downing half of it in one go. Your friend turns to you and shouts your name to gain your attention over the music. “Where’s Blasty? Has anyone heard from that guy?” She asks, referring to a certain explosive blonde.

You take your bottom lip in between your teeth, chewing on the already chapped flesh. Katsuki was supposed to meet you and your friends here almost an hour ago, but he hasn’t arrived. According to your phone, he hasn’t read any of the messages you’ve sent him either.

With a little shrug, you give a halfhearted answer. “I have no idea. Why the hell would I know?”

The pink-haired girl flashes you a knowing smile. “Oh, I don’t know… You two have gotten pretty close lately.”

You grumble. “The hell we have!”

Thoughts start running rabid around your head. Obviously, you’re lying to Mina. Over the past few months, you and Katsuki have certainly gotten close. At first, it was nothing more than late-night drinking together, ranting about the struggles of hero work.

After several nights filled with booze and an absurd amount of yelling on the blonde’s part, things changed. Katsuki had a particularly rough time at work one day, and he needed to take his intense frustrations out on something. That something just happened to be you. For hours, the explosive hero ravaged you, his calloused hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he thrust his delicious cock into you. The mere thought of that night is enough to make you throb.

From that time on, the two of you formed a mutual understanding. Essentially, you and Katsuki became fuck buddies. Whenever either of you needed to let off a little steam, you would go to one another. Apparently, the increasing amount of time you and Katsuki started to spend together didn’t go unnoticed by your friends, considering the way Mina is currently eyeing you.

“You keep telling yourself that,” The girl mutters playfully, the corner of her lips rising in a devious smirk.

In the seat next to you, Mina finishes her drink and abruptly stands. She stumbles again, falling into your body and placing her hands on your very exposed thighs for support. The girl giggles an apology before straightening herself and grabbing your hand. “Well, let’s go dance!” She announces, lifting you up. “You can’t just wait at the bar until that idiot shows up. Let loose and have fun!”

Your eyes widen slightly, and Mina cackles at your expression. Before you have a chance to pull away, the girl has already hauled you towards the dance floor, thrusting you into a circle made up of your other friends that had come along.

Denki and Hanta cheer at your arrival, coming up to either side of you and pulling you into a ridiculous dance. Their laughter can be heard even over the obnoxiously loud music, and without realizing it, you are joining them in their fun. Briefly, Eijirou comes up to ask where is best friend is, and he looks crestfallen when you say you don’t know.

Filled with newfound energy, you stay out on the dance floor, swaying your hips in time to the music and running your hands down your body. Feeling daring, mostly due to the alcohol you ingested earlier, you begin to grind back, accentuating your physique. With your free hands, you run them up your body, and along the curves your outfit emphasizes. Eventually, Mina comes up behind you, playfully smacking your ass, and you play along, grinding into her further. Around you, your friends whoop and cheer at your antics.

Towards the edge of the circle, Shouto is off to the side, halfheartedly moving to the music. Grinning, you head over to him, mischief playing on your delicate features. The boy immediately becomes suspicious but has no chance to do anything as you swiftly grab him by his sleeve and drag him forcefully into the middle of the dance floor. Off to the side, your friends laugh at the reserved boy’s confused and slightly startled expression.

Denki shouts your name behind you. “Help him loosen up! Show Shouto how to have some fun!”

Your lips curl into a devilish smile as you instantly realize what Denki is suggesting. Shouto stiffens when you turn around, and start dancing, your backside hovering dangerously close to his crotch. Coincidentally, the music changes to something with a more sensual beat, and that only eggs you on further. Shouto nearly jumps back when you brush against him, but you’re quick to grab his hands and put them on your hips.

“Like this, Shouto,” You guide the lost boy, trying to get him to move his body in sync with yours. When you feel him slowly start to relax, you take your hands away from their place on top of his and begin to dive further into the music.

Off to the side, Mina is recording the two of you dancing, laughing maniacally at the sight. The remainder of your friends stare in shock at the sight of the usually cold Shouto dancing with you in such a provocative way.

Becoming bold, you harshly press your ass against the man’s groin. Rather than pull away like you expected him to, Shouto just barks a loud laugh, holding your hips tighter. “Not that I’m complaining, but do you have a death wish?” Shouto whispers into your ear.

With a confused expression, you angle your head to meet his bicolored eyes. The man nods his head in the direction of your group of friends. There, in the middle of everyone, stands a very pissed off blonde.

Katsuki dons a formal suit, and he seems to have taken off the matching jacket. The thin fabric of his dress shirt stretches deliciously over his muscles, highlighting his body in the best way possible. The blonde’s gaze meets yours, a deep fire burning within his crimson eyes.

You immediately straighten up against Shouto, and the man laughs again. He pats you on the shoulder as if bidding you good luck before walking off. Gulping, you meagerly make your way over to Katsuki. On the sidelines, your friends watch in amusement. It is painfully obvious to them that the two of you have something going on, and it was honestly hilarious to see you guys try and hide it.

When you make your way over to Katsuki, you feign confidence. “Where were you?” You question with a small frown on your lips.

The blonde looks you over, drinking in your form. His breath hitches upon seeing the scandalous outfit you had chosen. The tight black fabric hugs you beautifully, not to mention the several slits in the fabric that expose your supple skin. “I got stuck at a damn press conference.” He grumbles, annoyance brimming in his ruby eyes.

“Oh,” You groan in sympathy. Press conferences were the worst, and you know how much Katsuki hates them. As a top hero, the media is always hounding him with dozens of questions.

With a click of his tongue, Katsuki is dragging you off the dancefloor and lugging you towards the bar. He takes a seat in one of the stools and forces you into the one next to him. The blonde is quick to order a drink. He then turns to you, mouth twisted in an unfriendly scowl.

“What the fuck were you doing with Icy Hot?” He demands, lazily taking a sip from his glass before placing it back down on the counter, eyes never leaving yours.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “We were just dancing,”

“Yeah, no shit,” Katsuki sneers in response, eyes narrowing.

You roll your eyes. “Well, then why did you ask?”

Katsuki turns in his seat so that his body faces yours. He reaches out a hand and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him head-on. “I just wanna know why the fuck you were grinding on that bastard like a little slut.” He spits.

Shuddering in his grasp, you smirk. “Sometimes I think you forget that I can do whatever the fuck I want, Katsuki.”

An animalistic growl erupts from the blonde’s chest, and he leans in closer to your face. “Do you wanna rethink that statement, Princess?” Katsuki demands, fingering the space in your dress where a small slit opens directly below your bust.

A shaky breath escapes you. “Shouto is just my friend… it’s not like he got handsy with me, not that it would even matter if he did. We were just having fun.”

Katsuki licks his chapped lips. “I think you need to be reminded of your place,” He snarls.

The hero’s fingers slide further into the slit in your dress, lightly grazing your breasts. Katsuki catches your soft gasp with his lips, pressing a searing kiss against your delectable lips.

You whine when the blonde pulls away, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “Look at what a slut you are, moaning for me in public. Just a moment ago, you looked ready to fuck Shouto. Are you that much of a whore that you can’t even wait for me? Are you so desperate that you’d even fuck one of our friends?”

Katsuki swipes his calloused thumb against your sensitive nipple, feeling it harden under his touch. His other hand remains at your waist, keeping your body close to his. “Katsuki, please,” You beg, arching into his rough hands.

Roughly, the explosive man chuckles. “I think we need to leave. You need to learn just exactly who you belong to.” He whispers, hot breathe fanning against your ear.

With a low groan, you nod. Katsuki removes his hands from your body and takes your wrist in his hand. He drags you out to the front of the club and takes you to his car. You had initially gotten a ride from Mina, so you made sure to text her that you were leaving with Katsuki. In response to your message came an onslaught of very suggestive emojis.

While the blonde drives to his apartment, he keeps one hand on the wheel and the other firmly planted on your inner thigh. Every so often, he slides his hand closer to your core. His mere touch is much more intoxicating than anything you drank while at the club.

Before long, Katsuki is parking the car and leading you into his apartment. As soon as the door shuts, rough hands are aggressively pushing you against the adjacent wall, pinning your wrists above your head. Katsuki peers down at you, eyes dark with lust.

The blonde dives down, lips locking with yours in a passionate kiss. Katsuki fervently tries to force his tongue into your mouth, but you coyly deny him entrance. With a grunt, the man thrusts his knee between your legs and presses it against your heat. You gasp at the sudden friction, and Katsuki takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch of you.

You moan hotly into the kiss, unconsciously rocking onto Katsuki’s knee that remains pressed against you. The blonde pulls away, chuckling darkly. “Look at what a fucking slut you are, getting off on my knee. Like a bitch in heat.” He taunts, pressing searing kisses against your jaw, slowly trailing down to your neck and biting harshly.

Desperate to touch the gorgeous man in front of you, you try to wriggle your hands out of his iron grip. Unfortunately, that only makes Katsuki hold you tighter and bite deeply at the base of your neck. “Please, Kat,” You pant out, desperation lacing your voice.

You whine as Katsuki drops his knee from its place in between your legs, the loss of contact only making you crave him more. The blonde also releases your hands, placing both of his to grasp your thighs. “Jump,” He mutters against your skin.

You yelp when the hero lifts you up, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist. Katsuki attaches his lips to your collar bone, sucking with bruising force. The man carries you all the way to his bedroom, throwing you down onto his plush bed.

When you look up, Katsuki is standing over you, panting slightly. He brings one of his hands up to the stuffocating tie around his neck, and he aggressively loosens it, tossing it somewhere on the floor. He takes his time looking you over, nimble fingers undoing the top few buttons of his dress shirt to reveal a toned chest underneath.

The man smirks as he sees your eyes trailing hungrily over his body. He quickly climbs on the bed, planting himself over you. With a hum, he runs a hand along your body, starting at your breast and slowly making his way down to your thigh. When he reaches the edge of your dress, he yanks it up, exposing you to him.

Katsuki immediately groans at the sight of your bare pussy. “Oh? Were you hoping I’d catch a glimpse of your pussy at the club and take you right there?” he growls, spreading your legs.

“No, I just didn’t want any panty lines-“ You’re interrupted by a sharp slap to your clit.

Your back arches and you hiss at the rough treatment. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Just admit that you’re a slut.”

Katsuki runs a finger between your folds, coating his fingers with your slick. His thumb pays close attention to your clit, rubbing painfully slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your wanton moans fill the room, pleasure slowly consuming you. You rock your hips against his hand, hoping to gain more friction.

Another slap comes to your core, causing you to yelp. “Did I say you could fucking do that?” Katsuki grumbles, fury etched on his face.

You shake your head timidly. “Since it seems that you still think you can do whatever the fuck you want and get away with it, I’m going to have to teach you a lesson, Princess.” He sighs into your ear, hand abandoning your pussy and reaching up to practically tear your dress off.

Once your clothes are removed, Katsuki takes you by the waist and turns you so that you’re on your stomach, ass up in the air. The blonde delivers a stinging smack to your ass before dragging his thumb through your wetness, watching your pussy quiver under his touch. “So fucking wet for me, and I’ve barely done a thing to you.”

Behind you, Katsuki begins to undress until he’s just as naked as you. If you look up, you can see the blonde through a mirror placed in front of you. His thick cock stands proudly, the tip red and weeping with precum.

The man spots you ogling him through the mirror and grins, landing yet another harsh slap to your behind. You groan, arching your back, the shocks of pain morphing into an intoxicating pleasure that courses through your veins.

Katsuki laughs before dropping down and licking a strip up your core. You gasp at the feeling of his hot tongue on you, eagerly pressing yourself closer to him, begging for more. The blonde obliges, his tongue returning to your mound, moving expertly in ways he knows will make you lose control. He fucks you with his tongue, every now and then going down to suckle softly on your clit, slightly grazing you with his teeth.

The blonde moans into you, the taste of you inebriating. His guttural sounds send sweet vibrations through you, eliciting gasps and whines from you. Suddenly, Katsuki has his lips locked around your clit, his fingers plunging into your pussy, curling into you deliciously. Pressure begins to build up in your core, threatening to release. “Oh, fuck, Katsuki!” You nearly scream as he grazes his teeth over your clit.

Just as you’re about to come undone, Katsuki removes himself from you, lips and fingers leaving your trembling body, mercilessly denying you your release. Katsuki brings his hand down on the side of your ass, activating his quirk the tiniest bit. Heat blooms along your body, and the blonde continues to run his hands over every inch of your skin, keeping his quirk activated.

You press your head into the mattress, helplessly moaning as Katsuki continues his blissful assault on your body. When he finally pulls away, you are wrecked, thighs shaking, and a string of drool escaping your mouth.

Katsuki grabs your waist and turns you around to face him, groaning when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face. You look him over, and your eyes are soon trained on his dick, the way it looks painfully hard, almost begging to be sucked.

Peering up at the blonde, you weakly crawl to him, wrapping your hand around his shaft. Deftly, you stroke him, spreading his precum around his length. Katsuki nearly whimpers, watching your every move.

You start with small kitten licks, kissing your way up his cock. Your hand remains on him the whole time, pumping him painfully slow. Katsuki throws his head back at your ministrations, a low groan rumbling from his chest. You can see the muscles in his thighs flex delightfully as he tries to control himself.

Before the blonde forces your head down onto his cock out of impatience, you sink your mouth down onto him. Your tongue laps at the underside of his cock, and your free hand goes to stroke his heavy balls.

You bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks out. When you start to use your tongue on the head of his cock, Katsuki sifts a hand through your hair, grabbing a handful and forcing you down onto him. You gag at being forced to take him all at once so suddenly, and Katsuki groans when you flatten your tongue against his base. The blonde loosens his grip on your hair but keeps his hand on you as a guide while you blow him. A silent reminder that he’s still in control.

Slowly, you begin to pick up speed, bobbing your head up and down faster and faster. You use a hand to pump whatever length you are unable to fit into your mouth; your other hand still preoccupied with fondling the hero’s balls. Katsuki curses your name. “Shit, just like that, Princess. Keep going,” He praises, his eyes never leaving you. His rough hand still remains tangled in your hair, slightly yanking the strands as you continue to suck him off.

As you are about to deepthroat the man, he suddenly pulls your hair, stilling your movements. Instead, he keeps you still while he starts to thrust his hips, fucking himself into your mouth. His pace starts nice and even, but he soon begins to pick up speed. Your eyes water as Katsuki’s cock hits the back of your throat, spilling onto your cheeks.

Katsuki’s pace reaches a relentless speed. He’s moaning loudly, your name spilling out of his mouth like a mantra. The sound of you choking and gagging on his dick makes the blonde go wild as his thrusts become erratic, losing every sense of rhythm. The muscles in Katsuki’s thighs are contracting, and his lower abdomen is tightening. When you think he is about to come, you thrust your head down onto his cock, enveloping him down to the base.

The blonde yanks you off of him, growling and panting at you as he denies himself his own climax. “Do you want my come?” He asks you cockily. “That’s too bad, only good girls get what they want.”

Before you can choke out a lame response, Katsuki is turning you around once more, getting on his knees as you raise your ass to the air. The man positions himself directly behind you. Two fingers prod at your opening, slowly sliding into you. You gasp as he begins to scissor his fingers in your cunt, no doubt preparing you to take his dick.

The hero’s calloused fingers slide against your walls so fucking good, you can’t help the filthy moans that escape your mouth. Soon, Katsuki is removing his fingers, and you whine disappointedly at the loss. He takes his cock in hand and rubs it mercilessly against your pulsating cunt, spreading your wetness along his length. You moan at the feeling of him teasing you so ruthlessly.

“Please, Kat,” You whine, fingering closing around the plush bedsheets under you.

The blonde laughs at you. “Beg for my cock, Princess. Show me how much of a good girl you can be.” He taunts.

You nearly sob into the sheets, the need to have him inside you overwhelming. “Fuck! Please, Katsuki, I need your cock. Fuck me until I can’t walk anymore, please, just use me.”

A sharp inhale sounds from behind you, followed by another crude laugh. Katsuki leans down, his mouth next to your ear. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” He whispers, licking the shell of your ear.

“I’m your slut Katsuki, you’re the only one who can fuck me like this. I want you so fucking bad. Please, I need you inside of me. Please.” You cry out, eyes glazed over with desire.

Katsuki slams into you all at once, his thick cock stretching you out deliciously. You moan obscenely, fisting the sheets beneath you. The man gives you no time to adjust as he pounds into you ruthlessly, delivering slaps to your ass as he sees fit.

“What a fucking greedy slut. Your cunt is practically swallowing my cock.” The hero pants out, the way you clench around him elicits a lewd groan from his mouth.

The man sinks his fingers into your hips as he fervently fucks into you, his grip will definitely leave you with bruises tomorrow.

His full balls slap against your sensitive clit as he rams into you, stimulating you to no end. Katsuki bends down once more and leaves a trail of searing hot kisses down your spine. He eventually makes his way to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, which he latches on to with fervor.

Katsuki bites down roughly, then changes to softly suckling on your bruised skin. From your position, you take one of your arms and wrap it around his neck, pressing his mouth further into your neck. Every sweet sound Katsuki let out is like music to your ears, much like your moans are to him.

When Katsuki starts to thrust into you even harder, you lose all strength. Your hand falls from around the blonde’s neck, and your other hand supporting you collapses. The side of your face presses into the mattress as Katsuki fucks you brutally.

The hero brings himself up from his position on your back, and he straightens his posture. When he notices the mirror in front of him, he groans and stills at this sight of you looking absolutely wrecked as you take his cock.

“Look up for me, Princess,” He instructs, looking at you through the mirror. “That’s a good girl. Watch as I ruin your tight little pussy.”

You groan loudly when your eyes meet in the mirror. Katsuki is positioned behind you, his muscled body covered in a sheen of sweat. His hair is mused, and you can see his muscles ripple through his body with every powerful thrust he gives.

The sight is fucking obscene, and yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. The way the blonde looks crazed with sex, his crimson eyes dark and swimming with desire all directed towards you. The thought that you’re the one who made him this fucking needy and drunk on sex lights a fire in your veins.

When Katsuki’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, he gives sharp, punctuated thrusts, hitting your cervix with every time. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, pressure building up in your core. The blonde growls as he feels your cunt clamping tightly around his cock, sucking him into you.

Katsuki looks down, reveling in the way you seem to swallow him up. Carefully, he takes his thumb and collects your juices from your pussy and spreads them against your puckered hole. You still, feeling the man rub against your ass.

“Kat, what are you doing?” You manage to pant out.

The man shushes you softly. “Just wait. It’ll feel good, I promise.”

He lightly prods against the tight muscle, his thumb slowly working it open with the help of your own slick. The feeling is foreign and slightly strange, but you make no effort to stop Katsuki. Gradually, he manages to work the entirety of his thumb into you. You groan at the new sensation, your pussy clenching around Katsuki’s cock when he begins to move his finger inside of you.

“Shit! Katsuki, fuck,” You groan, biting your lip.

Lightly, Katsuki moves his thumb, only to replace it with his index and middle finger. The blonde curls his fingers inside of your tight ass and you whine at the feeling of being stuffed so fucking full.

The man continues to curl and thrust his fingers into your ass, all the while ramming his big cock into your sopping cunt.

“Oh, fuck, please don’t stop,” You sob, breaths erratic.

Katsuki snarls at you, pulling his fingers out of you to your dismay. “Don’t you dare fucking come, I’m not even fucking close to being done with you.”

He brings a hand down to your hair, yanking you up and making you cry out. Your back is now flush with Katsuki’s chest, the new position allowing him to angle himself perfectly inside of you. With every thrust, Katsuki pounds into your sweet spot, nearly sending you over the edge.

“Remember what I fucking said, you don’t come until I say you do.” The man reminds, his grip on your hair never faltering

Katsuki’s other hand comes down from your waist, and he rubs figure eights on your clit, making you scream. “Fuck!”

The sound of skin slapping on skin resounds off the walls of the bedroom as the blonde continues to roughly fuck into you. In the mirror, the sight is absolutely filthy. With every snap of his hips, your breasts bounce, and every inch of your collarbone and neck seems to be covered in marks.

The blonde notices you looking in the mirror and removes the hand pleasuring your clit, reaching it up to grab at one of your tits. He fondles it softly before taking the nipple in between his fingers and rolling it expertly. He slows down the speed of his thrusts as he plays with your body, reducing you to soft whines. Katsuki stares at you with an expression of pure lust as he touches you, and the sight of him enjoying touching you so much is enough to make you whimper.

Upon hearing your noises, Katsuki finally removes his hand from your hair, snaking it down towards your neck. He applies a light pressure before becoming more firm with his hold. He audibly moans at the sight of you in the mirror. You submit to him so fucking easily, almost as if it’s natural.

“Look at you, fuck, finally being a good girl for me.” He murmurs next to your ear, panting in between his words.

While his thrusts are still slow and languid from when he had been exploring you earlier, he gradually picks up his pace, returning to a bruising speed. You nearly scream as his cock slams against your g-spot.

“Katsuki, fuck, I’m gonna come,” You manage to choke out against the pressure of his hand on your neck.

The blonde grunts and increases the speed of his hips, dropping his hand from your chest to have it return to your clit. He circles the bud deliciously, bucking his hips wildly against you. Katsuki tightens his grip on your neck and presses small kisses to your jawline before coming up to your ear. “Come for me, Princess,”

Stars shoot across your vision as you come undone, pleasure shooting through your veins. The feeling is euphoric as Katsuki continues to thrust into you, chasing his own climax while fucking you through yours.

Sensitivity soon overcomes you, as the hero continues his assault on your sweet-spot. Katsuki loosens his hold on your neck, and eventually, his hands drop to your waist, holding you in place. You angle your head back and reach and arm to grab Katsuki, pulling him into a searing kiss of tongue and teeth. When you pull away, a thin string of saliva connects your lips. Against his mouth, you mutter, “Come inside me, Katsuki.”

With a loud growl, Katsuki gives one last thrust deep into your core, and he moans sinfully as he empties himself into you. Hot ropes of come spill into you, filling your cunt.

The two of you pant heavily, still coming off the high of your orgasms. It takes a moment before either of you move. Slowly, Katsuki pulls himself out of you with a hiss, groaning when he sees his come begins to drip out of your pussy.

A dull ache settles itself between your legs, and you are quick to collapse with your back against Katsuki’s chest. He chuckles softly. “Are you okay?”

You grin. “I just got my insides rearranged. Give me a minute.”

Katsuki barks out a laugh, taking you tenderly in his arms and laying you down on the bed. He kisses your temple softly before entering his bathroom. The blonde returns with a small washcloth, and he cleans you up.

Just as you’re about to fall victim to exhaustion, Katsuki picks you up in his strong arms and takes you into his bathroom. He had started a bath and delicately places you in the very soothing warm water. “Thanks, Kat. You’re the best.” You praise tiredly, half out of your mind.

The man grins at you cockily. “Trust me, I know.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bnha #mha #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #reader insert #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #x reader #smut #bakugou imagine #bakugou smut

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Foreign Languages (standalone)

Summary: Rus always thought he was a pretty likable guy. Everyone in Underswap always thought so. So why was it Edge hated him so much?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Enemies to Lovers,Getting Together, Misunderstandings

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Rus took the wet dish from his brother’s hand and dried it carefully, making sure to get any damp places that would leave spots when they dried. On the counter in front of him were stacks of already dried plates sitting next to the glasses and Rus added the current one to join its brethren. Because despite what some people might think, and say, loudly and frequently, Rus could and did actually help out with the housework.

Okay, it was possible he played up the laziness whenever some people were here, come on, it was funny. That was the joke! And sure, he got some chuckles out of it, but in the end, the fact remained. He helped, thanks, he did have jobs, he put money towards the bills, and he wasn’t some lazy, good-for-nothing jackass sponging off his brother’s goodwill, he wasn’t—

“You can quit brooding about it now,” Blue told him. Rus looked down at him. The sink was at his bro’s level and unless Rus wanted to sit on the floor while he washed, they usually went with Rus at the drying end of the line. Blue rinsed another plate and handed it up. “They’re gone and they won’t be back for another week.”

“they may be physically gone, but i swear, their presence lingers like a rancid fart in an elevator,” Rus grumbled. He rubbed away the droplets of water with more energy than was probably necessary, but it was probably better the plates took the bulk of his irritation than where he really wanted to shove it. “the Fell brothers seemed to bring their version of trouble with them wherever they go.”

“What I don’t understand is why you let him get to you,” Blue sighed. He scrubbed at the casserole dish, attacking the dried-on bits and ugh, gross, there was another reason to be grateful he was tall. “I’m aware you two simply don’t get along, but you’re usually so much better than that! How can you ignore every other Monster in the Underground, all with a smile on your face, except him?”

Rus sighed, sagging against the counter. “bro, i dunno. he’s worse than the mating call of piece of styrofoam.”

That was a kind way of putting it as far as Rus was concerned. His undersized clone from murderworld was flat-out fucking obnoxious. Rus could handle insults, hell, when he was doing standup, Rus could handle any heckler from the stage with the finest level of panache. But somehow, that guy managed to find his very last nerve and pounced on it with the kind of accuracy that Robin Hood would envy.

Ignoring that shit was seriously above and beyond the call of duty. The only other option would be going out whenever they were over, but fuck that. This was his house, thanks, and Rus wasn’t getting chased out of it by some overblown copy of himself that needed heels to look him in the eye sockets.

Blue rinsed off a handful of silverware and handed it over. “Things are different in Underfell you know that.”

The forks jangled as Rus tossed them roughly on the counter, “so what, that gives him blanket permission to be an asshole?”

“No,” Blue pulled the plug and wiped his hands on his apron, “but it also doesn’t mean you have to rise to the bait every time.”

“why are you only bitching at me and not him?” Rus whined. Honestly, it was so unfair. Just because he was taller didn’t mean he always had to be the bigger skeleton. He tossed the rest of the mostly dried silverware in with the forks and flopped down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his bro from behind and hauling him in for a hug. Blue snuggled in obediently, but that wasn’t enough to save Rus from the scolding.

“Because he isn't my brother,” Blue said firmly. “You are. And if you're waiting on Red to reel him in, I'd suggest not holding your breath.” That was the fucking truth, Red never joined in on the fun, but he tended to sit back and watch the show with a smirk on his face. That was the Underfell brothers, wasn’t it, the asshole and the whole ass, and they shared the titles between them. “Now, promise me that you won't let him get to you this weekend.”

Rus grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?”

"I promise," he sighed. He really did hate letting his bro down. He let Blue go and sank back on his heels while he tried very hard not to sulk, because that only made his bro unhappy and didn’t solve a thing.

This wasn’t the first time Blue begged him to tone it down for a while, but fuck, it was like that asshole was deliberately needling him, seriously, he was begging for an insult. The real problem wasn’t that he couldn’t control himself, but the simple fact that Edge wasn’t gonna make it easy for him.

This past movie night was a case in point. Nothing but jibes, back and forth, from the second Edge walked through the door ‘till the moment he set those high heels of his back into the snow.

“Tell me, how many piles of filthy clothing did you need to wade through before you found that sweatshirt?”

“only two, edgelord, wanted to make a good impression. and how many emos did you have to kill to put together that outfit, good on you for getting all the dust out.”

“My apologies, I suppose having clothing that wasn’t scrounged from a vomit-inducing dumpster is offending your sensibilities. I’ll be sure to wade through some filth before our next visit.”

“shouldn’t be too hard in underfell, all you have to do is take a stroll outside.”

“Do you think so, I wasn’t sure you knew what a stroll was, considering that the couch cushions are sunken in your shape.”

And that was just what Rus remembered from the top of his head. If he could give Edge grudging credit for anything, it was that he was quick with a comeback. Too quick, and constant to boot. By the end of the night, Rus was seething and Blue was exhausted from playing monkey in the middle, trying feebly to keep the peace.

If Edge had ever pointed any of that shit on Blue’s direction, this wouldn’t even be an issue. Rus would’ve shoved their pointy asses back into the portal so fast, the void would be spinning. Whatever problem Edge had with him, though, it didn’t extend to Blue. They were chummy as hell, thick as thieves, whatever other fucking metaphor the undernet could spit out.

Seriously, though, if he’d been even the tiniest bit as rude to his bro, this whole movie night thing would’ve been dumpstered a long time ago.

Only he wasn’t. And he wasn’t to Papyrus either, or Sans, or any other fucking person he’d seen Edge interact with. Doc Jekyll was perfectly kind and polite to anyone else and only pulled a Monsieur Hyde whenever Rus was close by.

Seemed like Edge saved all his vitriol for him. Lucky lucky him.

Well, this movie night was gonna be different. This time Rus wasn’t letting that asshole get to him and that was final.

~~*~~

If Rus knew that ignoring Edge was going to be this amazing, he would have tried it months ago.

It started from the first moment they walked in the house, like it always did. Edge barely kicked off his boots when he called out, “Have you been wearing that same shirt all week, Swapshit? Are you experimenting on whether it’s actually possible to wear something to rags?”

“Guess so,” Rus said absently. He didn’t elaborate on it, didn’t ask whether Edge shook all the dust out of his ensemble before coming. He only stayed where he was, slumped on the sofa while Blue began the entire convoluted ritual of bringing out popcorn and drinks, chattering about what movies they were planning on watching today and what was for dinner.

Usually Edge would step in and help, but Rus’s lack of reply seemed to have thrown him for a loop. He wavered for a moment then rallied with, “Perhaps you let your brother wash it this week after all, since I doubt you’ve laid a hand on a washing machine in months.”

Rus only shrugged vaguely, and the look that flitted across Edge’s face, a weirdly twisted configuration of confusion, was some sweet shit.

He tried a couple more, adding to the clothes and lazy insults with a coupla digs about his intellect for seasoning and this time Rus didn’t even bother with the shrug. He was a tree in the wind, bending beneath the gales, and laughing it the fuck up on the inside. Now this was entertainment.

Sans seemed to have caught on to the deal and he only settled next to a scowling Red on one of the sofas, watching as Edge stood alone in the middle of their living room, fumbling for another insult for Rus to ignore.

Blue and Papyrus were always tall and smol balls of trying to get along, and when Blue gave him a look, Rus only looked back innocently. Hey, he was following his promise to the letter, not letting Edge get to him. If Edge was gonna get worked up into a froth about it, hey, wasn’t his fault.

Blue still looked like he wanted to give him a kick in the shin, but didn’t seem like he came up with a good excuse for it. He settled for accidentally/deliberately treading on Rus’s foot even as he said, brightly, “Here we go, popcorn and drinks!”

“thanks, bro,” Rus took his bowl and immediately started crunching the salty, buttery goodness.

That seemed to be the ammo Edge was looking for and he latched on quickly, snapping out, “Always have to be first in line, don’t you. Consider leaving some for the rest of us.”

Rus had to resist the urge to scoff, that wasn’t even a good one, boo, all the judges give ones, even the Russians.

“Here you are, Edge, popcorn,” Blue said with almost desperate cheer, thrusting a bowl at him.

That seemed to be enough to call for an intermission. Edge took his bowl of popcorn without so much as a thank you and went to sit between Sans and Red. The movie was an old one they’d all seen before and Rus snuck a couple discreet glances Edge’s way. He was glowering at the screen as if that laser gaze of his might kill all the actors and spare them this nonsense. Every once in a while, Edge sullenly ate a single kernel of popcorn and holy shit, this was the funniest thing Rus had ever seen, and if he laughed out loud now, he’d never get to see the end of the show.

He managed to jerk his eye lights back to the tv and kept the glances to a minimum, the better to savor it, hell, yes. Sipped on the Edgelord’s annoyance like the fine vinegary wine that it was.

Halfway through the movie, Blue paused it and picked up the half-full popcorn bowl, holding it up to ask cheerily, “Does anyone need a drink or refill?”

“I’ll take a glass,” Edge announced. Instead of waiting for Blue to bring it, he stalked over, arms crossed over his chest as he stood waiting, glowered at absolutely nothing.

That got some looks. Edge never drank soda, he always stuck with water. Hell, he’d sneered about the soda before, what was that one, something about Rus drinking so much soda that if he dared eat a Mento, he’d probably explode.

“Oh, uh, of course!” Blue recovered admirably. He poured out a cup and handed it up to Edge. Who took it with possibly the fakest looking fumble Rus ever saw, but there wasn’t time to even wonder what the fuck because the soda was less in the glass and more dumped directly on his head.

Stunned, Rus looked up at Edge through the sticky liquid dripping into his sockets.

“Oops,” he said, blandly. His eye lights were bright, a smirk curving up the side of his mouth. “My mistake.”

“you—” Rus bit off what he was going to say hard enough that his teeth clicked together painfully. He’d fucking promised, and he was keeping his promise, no cheap pleather knockoff clone was going to stop him. He stood up, slowly, and for one long moment he faced Edge. Without his boots on, Edge was inches shorter than him, staring up defiantly, daring Rus to say something, anything. Then Rus turned away and stalked towards the kitchen.

“Papy,” Blue called anxiously as he went through the door. Rus ignored it and went right to the drawer with the towels, wiping off as much of the sticky wetness as he could, ugh.

The door swung open behind him and Rus turned enough to catch a glimpse of black and crimson, too tall to be Red.

Rus wasn’t the fighter that Edge was, but he did have two things in his side. First, the element of surprise and second, he was pretty sure Edge wouldn’t actually hurt him. Blue probably wouldn’t be very happy about having to shake Rus out of the rugs.

That anger he’d kept banked all night under his sense of humor surged and Rus reached out and took hold of Edge’s soul with his magic, turned it blue with a cheery ting and shoving him back against the cupboards. Edge didn’t even struggle or try to fight back and somehow that was even more irritating, what the fuck was wrong with this guy?

Seemed like there was only one person to ask. Rus stalked over to Edge and stood in front of him, his soda-soaked sweatshirt clinging uncomfortably as he snarled out, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Edge had no right to look as furious as he did. “Me?” he spat, “What the fuck are you trying to pull?”

“i’m trying to end all this bullshit!” Rus snapped. His anger wasn’t sustainable, hell, Rus never liked being angry, and it drained away, leaving behind exhaustion. No one else ever got treated to the weekly roast, why the hell was Edge so damned focused on him. He didn’t know and couldn’t even care, let his magic recede so that Edge came down in a controlled slide, his feet back on the floor.

Only, Rus didn’t expect the way Edge’s expression changed along with it, from cold fury to…to…it almost looked like yearning, what the fuck--

“Finally,” Edge breathed, and Rus only stared dumbly as Edge stepped in close and kissed him.

Rus’d been kissed plenty of times before by other, fleshier Monsters and wasn’t that always a learning curve. Somehow this was even worse, mostly because he was cycling through various levels of shock, hands flailing as if he were trying to fly away from this whole awful night.

A skeletal mouth was something different, hard, sharp teeth pressed almost painfully to his own. Rus was pretty sure he only opened his mouth to ask Edge what the fuck he was doing, but the moment his teeth parted, he had an extra tongue inside, long and clever, curling around his own, and for one brief, baffling moment Rus found himself leaning into it. The mouth against his own knew what it was doing, tongue dipping inside, teeth nibbling teasingly, riding the tantalizing line of pain and pleasure.

It was the slightest prickle of those sharp teeth that reminded him of who exactly he was kissing, and Rus jerked away, stumbling back and covering his mouth with a humiliatingly shaky hand. “what the…why would you…what the fuck?!”

Looking to Edge for answers only got Rus more questions. He looked bewildered more than anything, maybe even a little hurt. He reached out, his hands settling on Rus’s shoulders. “But, you said—"

“let go!” Rus tried to lurch away from those grasping hands.

Edge did immediately and Rus scrambled away from him, not looking back as he fled out the kitchen door. The others were still on the sofas, but Red was sitting next to Blue now, of course he fucking was, probably kept his bro out here to let Edge chase after him for whatever the fuck that was.

His shoes were laying jumbled together by the front door and Rus stuffed his feet into them, ignoring the way his boney feet protested the rough treatment.

“Where are you going?” Blue called, distressed.

“someplace to get my dick sucked,” Rus snarled, ignoring the way his bro sputtered at his crudeness. He slammed the door shut behind him hard enough to shake clumps of snow loose from the gutters, the Gyftmas lights swaying as Rus started off towards Muffet’s, already reaching for a cigarette.

~~*~~

Hours later, Rus was still sitting at the bar, alone. Aside from a scattering of greetings when he’d come inside, everyone took one good look at him and let him be. The place was mostly empty by now, only a few regulars clinging on, most of them sitting alone, too, or may as well be, cause this wasn’t the hour for laughter and chatting. This was the time for drinking, and everyone here was getting to the task, tout suite.

Muffet was behind the bar, endlessly wiping the glasses. Aside from refilling his glass, she’d left him alone and that suited Rus’s mood just fine. He was engaging in a particularly useful coping mechanism known as ‘trying not to think about it’ and after three honey whiskeys, he was doing a pretty good job.

Behind him, Rus heard the door open, didn’t think much of it. Until the footsteps headed his way and the stool next to him got a new occupant. Red didn’t look at him, only gestured to Muffet and soon he had a drink of his own, something vile and sour, Rus would sure, to match his shitty personality.

Red looked down at his drink, tipping the glass this way and that in his hands. “i dunno what the fuck you’re trying to pull,” Red said, coolly, “but flaunting it when you’re fucking other people is over the line.”

“who i fuck is none of your business.” Rus drained his glass and held it out silently for Muffet to refill. He hadn’t actually intended to find someone to spend the night with, but the idea was getting more tempting by the second with someone trying to stuff up his ass what he should or shouldn’t do.

The entire bar winced as sharp fingertips scraped across glass, dark liquid slopping out over Red’s hand as his grip tightened. Red finally looked at him and his eye lights were burning like coals in his sockets. “it is when you’ve been leading my brother on for months!”

Rus choked on the mouthful of whiskey he’d taken, coughing it back out. “whoa, back that shit up, what?”

The heat of that glare didn’t drop a single digit, Red glowering as he snarled, “i’ve been keeping back. if you two want to play the long game, it’s no skin off my bones, but you’re playing a little too rough!”

Okay, maybe he’d had enough to drink for now. Rus set the glass carefully on the bar top and glanced at Muffet. Who was only polishing a glass and giving a great impression of someone who wasn’t hanging on to their every word. A quick glance around the rest of the bar got him a lot of matching nonchalant expressions and wasn’t that wonderful. Rus always loved being the best gossip on any given night. “red, i have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

That fiery anger dimmed, morphing into the same bewilderment he’d seen in Edge. “but…come on, you’ve been insulting him for months.”

“So?” Rus said, defensively. “he’s been insulting me!”

“yeah, exactly!” When Rus only stared at him in confusion, Red looked even more agitated, shoving his drink away. “you’ve been getting in each other’s faces, arguing and…” He slowed and trailed off, leaning to peer disturbingly close into Rus’s face, his sockets narrowed. “you really got no idea what i’m talking about, do you.”

“no fucking clue,” His whiskey-clouded thoughts were slow to catch up, but when they did, it was like a slap across the face, sharp and stunning. “you think I’ve been flirting with him??”

Red threw up his hands, “yeah!”

Rus could only shake his head, torn between being amused and appalled. Amusement was currently in the lead, of course Underfell would do things with a weird, assholish tilt. “red, we don’t flirt like that here. ask anyone.”

Red turned to look around the bar where everyone immediately found something better to look at. But every one of them was sitting peacefully, sipping a drink and munching on pretzels.

It made Rus remember the time Red dragged him to Grillby’s in Underfell, where a fight seemed to start every two minutes, attacks constantly flying and Rus was so nervous, he barely finished a single drink. Red seemed unperturbed the whole time, slugging the shots back, business as usual for him. The next time he invited Rus out, Rus decided he had about a hundred other ways he’d rather die than sipping cheap booze in the murder café.

Red was starting to get the picture, too, in high-definition. He looked honestly upset which was probably the most real emotion he’d ever seen in Red, his sharp phalanges clattering against his skull as he scraped a hand over it, muttering out, “ah, fuck.”

“that pretty much sums it up,” Rus agreed. He took another swig of his drink, may as well not waste it, chuckling to himself, “fuck. you both thought i was flirting…and he was flirting…back.”

Oh.

That…was actually not funny. At all. If Edge thought he was flirting by insulting him and he’d been giving it right back hard, going all out until Rus had been in a goddamn rage and—

It turned everything he knew about Edge on its head, meant he hadn’t been an asshole, the exact opposite, actually, he…he’d been…

Yeah. Fuck seemed like a pretty good summation.

Processing all that through his whisky-soaked head wasn’t going so well. Rus sank down, resting his head on his folded arms and staring blurrily at the bottles lining the shelves behind the bar.

Next to him, Red shifted uncomfortably, slowly turning the glass in his hands. “look, i’ll talk to my bro about this,” Red said haltingly.

Rus nodded distractedly. “yeah, okay. that…that’d be good.” Suddenly the bar seemed too hot, claustrophobically so. “i need to go.” He dug a G out of his pocket and left in on the counter, ignoring the way the other patrons gasped in shock. To hell with them, he wasn’t about to let Red start using his tab.

He stumbled out the door, the cold stinging against his hot cheek bones. Wandered in the direction of their house and kept going, until snow faded to slush and dripping water. He was in Waterfall in the middle of the night, echo flowers everywhere ready to repeat his woes to the next person passing through.

Yeah, how about no.

Rus sidestepped into a shortcut and his head might not be on straight, but he could find that secret bench blindfolded and backwards. One of the quietest places Underground, only the soothing rush of water around him. Nice and quiet, too quiet, nothing to distract him from the tangle of his thoughts and Rus flopped down on the bench while his mind started picking at it.

Edge had given back every insult Rus had ever given him, in spades. Which run through an Underfell filter made it sound like Edge had been an adoring suitor, gah, Rus wasn’t even sure there was a name for what knowing that made him feel. A wild blender-drink of emotion turned into a smoothie of confusion.

But that was almost business as usual. He’d always been confused and maybe a little hurt by Edge’s attitude. Why was he so friendly with his brother and so cold to him? Sometimes after movie nights he’d be lying awake in bed, wondering what the fuck he’d done to make Edge hate him so much.

Only to find out now that Edge didn’t hate him. At all. Maybe even the opposite of that.

All that whiskey was settling into his magic sourly and Rus rolled to lay on his side, breathing through a wave of nausea. His thoughts seemed trapped in a circular haze, repeating over and over, worse than the most persistent echo flower, and finally, he fell asleep staring at the lapping water.

When he woke, the amount of artificial light trying to pry its way into his closed sockets told him it was morning. Rus groaned and slung an arm over his sockets, but before he could drift back off came a prickling sense of awareness.

Someone was close by.

Cautiously, Rus lifted his arm and squinted out into the day to see Edge standing in front of him. At least he thought it was Edge, Rus wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Edge in jeans and a plain t-shirt, and his boots were simple with a low heel. None of the elaborate wardrobe he usually showed up in. With a sickening jolt, Rus realized that every time Edge came over, he’d been dressing up to see him. How did that make his typical hoodie and track pants seem, was the insult of not dressing up part of the flirting? Who the fuck knew.

The clothes weren’t the only thing different about him. Gone was the arrogant Captain who marched into their house on movie nights. This skeleton’s hands were tucked into his pockets, his expression bleak, like there was a deciding battle lost and now he was trying to deal with the aftermath.

“hnng,” Rus managed, groaning as he sat up. He cleared his throat, trying to work a little moisture into his mouth as he mumbled, “um. hey.”

Edge looked past Rus at the stony wall behind him with determined focus and said stiffly, “I’ve been made aware that there has been a misunderstanding.”

“yeah, a little.” Only a fucking lot.

He nodded tiredly, “My apologies. I won’t trouble you any longer.” Edge started to turn away and that was abruptly the last thing Rus wanted.

“wait!” Rus blurted. He reached out weakly and wasn’t even sure why, but somehow seeing Edge, arrogant, asshole Edge, looking so downcast, so damned broken, it…it hurt, worse than the hangover throbbing in his skull.

He remembered Edge coming over a few weeks ago to work on cooking with his bro. So patient and understanding with Blue, who could be a little overzealous at times, okay, maybe even a lot and Edge was never anything but kind to him, as kind as he’d been vicious with Rus and if he could swap that around, change it, flip it on its head and why not, they were in Underswap.

Edge hesitated, some unnamed emotion flickering across his face, and Rus added, coaxingly, “please? sit down, okay? can we talk while we’re both on the same page?”

He looked like he was considering making a break for Underfell, even glanced in the direction of the path. But finally, he sighed heavily and sat on the opposite side of the bench, spine held so rigidly he looked like he might shatter with a single touch.

They sat there with the sound of falling water around them, Rus struggling with what to say, fuck, he didn’t even know how he felt. His head ached and Edge looked so damned sad, and he’d seen those smiles of his before, usually directed at Blue or Papyrus, but still, he knew they were in there somewhere.

Maybe…maybe Rus could find one?

“look,” Rus ran a hand over his skull, fingers clattering against the smooth bone. “um, we’ve been flirting your way for months. maybe we can try my way for a change.”

Edge jerked, his head turning Rus’s way and his sockets wide. Guess that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. Haltingly, he said, “I’m not sure how but…I am willing to try.”

He sounded so damned hopeful. Rus’s soul twisted in his ribcage. He took a deep breath and reached over to take Edge’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. Edge’s phalanges were soothingly warm, slim and scarred.

“let’s start with this,” Rus said softly. The fingers around his own tightened cautiously, a thumb tracing down into Rus’s palm, making him shiver.

“This is nice,” Edge admitted. And there, there it was. He smiled, little more than a faint curve upward at the corners of his mouth that sent an unexpected flutter through Rus’s soul.

“yeah, it is,” Rus hesitated. Welp, in for a G, in for a bundle, “can i…?”

“Yes,” Edge said immediately. Probably didn’t even know what he was agreeing to and Rus smiled a little himself, helplessly.

They’d already had a first kiss, couldn’t get that back. Rus was hoping a second would be just as memorable, for a different reason.

He leaned in, carefully brushing his mouth over Edge’s. The teeth beneath his own parted in invitation and Rus took it, tongues gliding lightly together as Edge moaned shakily, his free hand coming up to clutch at the back of Rus’s neck, and yeah, okay. He could work with this.

One kiss became two, three, each one a little more desperate than the last and holy shit, he’d been cockteasing for months and hadn’t even known it. Or maybe some part of him had known, and Rus hated it for not cluing him in sooner because he wanted more of this, wanted to sink into Edge’s kisses, lose himself in this desperate eagerness, the urgent little noises that Edge was starting to utter.

Only, that would probably be a bad idea right out of the gate and Rus regretfully pulled away, shelved the temptation.

And almost snatched it right back up because Edge was unfairly enticing, teeth parted as he panted and a bright flush of crimson tinting his cheek bones.

Rus licked his teeth, watched as Edge’s eye lights followed that little movement. “i think, um. maybe we could go on a date. together.”

“If you can drag your lazy ass out of bed.” Slipped out, and Rus saw Edge wince, fumbling for a way to take it back. But hey, this was a language Rus thought he could learn. Maybe if they kept this up, they could both learn a thing or three.

“i can get moving when i’m properly motivated,” Rus smirked. “real question is can you get the stick out of your ass long enough to enjoy it.” Edge’s eye lights flared, nearly filling his sockets and by the Unnamed Angel, Rus must’ve been blind not to see that for what it was. Excitement, delight, eagerness, and shit, good or bad, this was going to be something, wasn’t it.

‘Enjoy it,’ Came from the solo echo flower sitting nearby, its ghostly voice encouraging.

Yeah, okay, Rus decided, cupping Edge’s face in his hands as he leaned in for another kiss. That seemed like a good enough place to start.

-fin-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #Underfell Sans #underswap sans #standalone

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goffilolo · 5 years

Text

Revival of Midoriya Izuku chapter 3

It’s been 84 years huh? As always the fanfic is up on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929483/chapters/52652386

also im aware of like some formatting issues with the fic when it comes to tumblr, so reading it on ao3 might be better if you particularly care about like italics and what not, but otherwise it’s all the same stuff.

“Move your ass Boom Boom Bitch, I wanna get there early!” shouted Izuku, as him and Bandit sat on rather stylish, but uncomfortable couch in the Bakugous’ living room that was probably worth more than both of them put together, which probably wasn’t even that much anyway since they’re both garbage, but it’s about the principle of the thing.

“Shut your mouth you Trash Twink, I’ll get there when I get there! And what the fuck are you doing in my house?” screamed Bakugou all the way from upstairs, although with his voice being as explosive as his quirk he might as well be standing right next to you considering the damage he does to everyone’s eardrums.

Speaking of hearing damage “Katsuki!!! Is that how you talk to our guest you rude brat?! Get over here!” exclaimed Aunt Mitsuki.

“Shut it old hag! Deku’s not a guest, he’s just an annoying cockroach that invites himself wherever he wants and does whatever he wants!” which is a fair point, considering Izuku has invited himself to Bakugou’s first day at UA for less than wholesome reasons. Some people might see it as the ultimate bitch slap to Bakugou’s ego (partially true), but for the most part it’s merely a testament of how far Izuku has come, considering he now only sees UA as a place where he can flirt with Tensei’s hot brother, rather than a means of accomplishing some bullshit dreams... But it’s not like Kacchan knows any of this, so he can fuck off.

If you were to ask Izuku what his deal with Bakugou was, he would reply “Best friends, duh” with enough sarcasm to last you the next ten years. If you were to press for any specifics his reply would be more along the lines of “I dunno, get the fuck out of my apartment” followed by having Trash Bandit sent after you. The bottom line was, his relationship with Bakugou was complicated, as were most thing in Izuku’s life, but that’s not unusual.

Izuku’s presence at the Bakugou household though? That’s quite unusual, yet more likely than you’d think.

And although the screaming match between the two Bakugous was ever so entertaining Izuku had places to be, and guys to seduce, so “Leave it Auntie” he exclaims in a dismissive manner “We don’t want to rile him up too much, otherwise he ain’t gonna get that 30-day chip from the anger management that he’s been gunnin’ for” he adds half-jokingly.

“I know, I know” she says “But you’d think he would act a little nicer by now, after all these months of therapy.”

“Wouldn’t expect miracles if I were you Auntie, you know what the say; Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree ” replies the boy with a shiteating grin as he motions towards Bakugou descending down the stairs, not missing the way Mitsuki flinched ever so slightly at his rather obnoxious comment.

“And to think you used to be such a nice boy yourself, I used to always tell your mother how great it would’ve been if Katsuki was more like you” she says in a mix of bittersweet nostalgia and regret.

“Yeah well, considering the shit I got for being nice , I think from now on I’d rather be a bastard and then some” exclaimed Izuku as he got up from the couch with Bandit in tow and made his way towards Bakugou. The other boy was getting ready to leave as well and his excitement for the day was concealed even more poorly than his mother’s discomfort at the current conversation “Have a good one Auntie!”

And with that, the two teenagers and one (1) sheep were on their way.

“Kacchan please , not everything is about you” said Izuku exasperatedly, hurrying over to the only empty seat on the train.

“Like hell it isn’t! This was supposed to be MY DAY, my first day at the school of my fucking dreams, and you’re trying to ruin it by following me around dressed like a dollar stripper!” replied Bakugou in a whisper-scream. He may have anger issues but he wasn’t a dumbass and the two of them were already drawing enough attention as it was. It wasn’t exactly easy to remain unnoticed on a train while carrying a green sheep; a task which fell on Bakugou, because Izuku was a weak-noodle-arm-bitch.

“First of all, I’m flattered that you think I’m worth a dollar” said the weak-noodle-arm-bitch in question “And second of all, this is my best outfit.” Said best outfit consisted of a worn out tank top that had THE HOES written on it in what once was a glittery pink; a pair of booty shorts with ENEMY OF STATE hand stitched onto the backside and rainbow patterned knee socks. The look was completed with a pair of pink platform crocs, because Izuku had standards ... and because he was short.

“God I hate you” murmured Bakugou.

“Don’t I know it Kacchan?”

The rest of the train ride was spent in silence.

It wasn’t until they actually reached the gates of the school that Bakugou had a thought; one that he probably should’ve had before they even left his house, but having a coherent thought while carrying a sheep and bickering with the sheep’s owner about whether the sheep should be referred to as a dog or not is in all fairness not possible.

“They won’t let you in” he said, voicing the sudden epiphany.

“Sure they will” replied Izuku.

“Oh yeah? How? Deku, you don’t fuckin’ go to this school, you don’t go to ANY school!” shouted Bakugou, because they were no longer on the train, therefore arguing with a lunatic stripper looking guy was now acceptable.

Izuku for the most part did not have a problem with that, because not only did he love having petty fights with people, he also loved proving them wrong, especially when everyone and their grandma accuses him of being a high school drop out.

“Shinjuku Metropolitan would beg to differ” he says, dropping the metaphorical bomb on the unsuspecting dipshit that is his childhood friend, after which he continues to walk, crossing the gates of UA High like he owns the damn place.

After about a minute of Bakugou standing frozen in shock, he finally snapped out of it when Bandit decided to start chewing on his uniform “Oi, hold the fuck up!” screamed the blond as he followed Izuku inside, while the sheep was being dragged along like a betrayed ragdoll “Did you just say Shinjuku Metropolitan?!”

“Kacchan, you know I can’t hold you, you’re too heavy” replies the other teen, while pointedly ignoring Bakugou’s question and the looks he’s been getting from the students.

“Don’t change the subject shitty Deku! How the fuck did your ass get into a top non-hero high school in the whole damn Tokyo you bitch?”

“What, like it’s hard?”

“I fuckin’ swear to God-”

“Do it! Pull the trigger piglet!”

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

Their pointless quarrel, which was on a steady way into becoming a straight up brawl (Izuku having already pulled out his axe and lighted a cigarette using one of Bakugou’s warning explosions) came to a stop when they were interrupted by one of UA’s teachers, although in Izuku’s opinion she made a wrong career choice, considering being a Dominatrix probably paid more.

On another note, when someone asks you ‘what’s going on?’ that doesn’t mean they’re actually interested in whatever is happening at the moment, it means ‘stop’, therefore Izuku’s answer to that question, which usually involves something along the lines of “You see, I’m small, horny and full of rage, and I have no outlet for these emotions” is rarely appreciated. That is not to say that the lack of appreciation is going to stop him from spawning whatever dumb shit comes to his mind when faced with the judgement from authority figures. If anything it makes everything worse.

“That’s just how we flirt” replied the teen instead, all the while looking THE Pro-Hero Midnight dead in the eye and putting out his cigarette on Bakugou’s uniform jacket. Bakugou, for the most part was unable to even be mad at the cigarette burn considering he was busy recovering from being metaphorically punched in the kidneys by that line.

“And why aren’t you wearing uniform?” she asks suspiciously, pointing at Izuku’s attire.

“Oh, I don’t go here” he replied casually.

“Then pray tell , why are you in this school?”

“To get laid”

“TO WHAT?!” screamed Bakugou in surprise.

At this point Midnight took out her phone (no, her costume doesn’t have pockets, please don’t ask where she keeps it) and clicked on one of three contacts she keeps on her speed dial.

“Principal Nedzu, we got a situation…”

After telling Bakugou not to worry and that he will see him later in class, Izuku was dragged to the principal’s office by Midnight.

On the way there he tried cracking up another joke, telling her that his safe word was ‘avocado’. She did not appreciate that one either. For those of you wondering what happened to Bandit, the sheep ended up following Bakugou, much to the blond’s dismay.

Now, being sent to a principal’s office, especially of a school that you don’t even attend is usually a sign that you have royally fucked up. Not for Izuku though, because he had a plan! Contrary to the common belief, Izuku is not dumb. The fall didn’t kill off any of his brain cells, only his ability to give a shit, which made life much easier since he no longer had to worry about things like: people’s opinions, social norms, laws and heteronormativity.

Anyway, back to the plan. Izuku was not dumb, therefore even he knew that wandering around UA while not attending the school would not fly. He needed a way to stay, and for that he needed the guy who runs the whole shitshow; Nedzu.

Which is why the moment Midnight opens the door to the office Izuku stomps in like a man on a mission and stops right in front of an animal of questionable origin in a suit that is allegedly UA’s principal. A little unusual, but if a scumbag like Endeavour can hold the title of No. 2 Hero in Japan, then an animal can run a school.

The principal in question was calmly sitting on a couch and drinking tea, totally unconcerned with whatever bullshit Izuku was about to throw at him.

“Now, what seems to be the issue with this young man?” asked Nedzu.

“This young man-” said Izuku, pointing to himself in a rather cocky manner “has a message for you!”

“And what would that message be?”

The principal’s question was answered with what Izuku can only think of as the ultimate power move, or in this case; a literal ace up the sleeve. The boy proceeded to pull out a Monopoly “Get out of Jail” card out of his shorts (since he technically wasn’t wearing any sleeves) and slam it on the table right in front of Nedzu.

While to an outsider the current situation might seem absurd, it is important to remember that Izuku had a plan; one that could’ve never come to a fruition without a little help from the most unexpected person, which is why that card was no ordinary Monopoly card, but a very specific reminder that only Principal Nedzu would know the meaning of, and when he picked it up and flipped it around, the neatly written message on the back made its presence known.

It read: “You owe me one. - Hisashi”

“My dad says ‘Hi!’ ” exclaimed Izuku, taking one look at Nedzu’s face and knowing that he already won.

Was cashing in on a favour that his dad secured like 10 years ago a morally good decision? Debatable, but it got the job done so he’s not gonna complain. All that mattered was that Izuku now had a pass to enter the UA grounds whenever he pleased and nobody could stop him, and so here he was about to enter the classroom where Kacchan is supposed to be in. The bell hasn’t rung yet so he still had some time and who knows, maybe the handsome guy from the police station was in the same class?

With that in mind he opened the gigantic door and made his way into the classroom and was met with what looked like a pissing contest between his crush and his childhood friend.

“REMOVE YOUR FOOT FROM THAT DESK! SUCH AN ACTION IS INSULTING TO THOSE WHO CAME TO UA BEFORE US AS WELL AS THE CRAFTSMEN WHO MADE THIS DESK!”

“LIKE I CARE! WHAT MIDDLE SCHOOL ARE YOU FROM, YOU EXTRA ?!”

Ah yes, pissing contest at its finest, which meant that Izuku had options . The most obvious course of action would be siding up with Tenya and taunting Kacchan, which is not something Izuku would ever say no to. However , it also happens that the object of his affections had a massive boner for rules and authority, which is the exact opposite of everything Izuku stands for, so siding up with Kacchan it is.

And so he made his way to the pair of bickering teenagers and promptly pushed Kacchan’s feet off the desk, earning a scoff from the blond and an approving but baffled look from Iida, which only lasted for about 2 seconds, because Izuku being the gay disaster that he is simply HAD to ruin it all by claiming the desk as his sitting spot and giving Tenya the most ridiculous bedroom eyes that had Kacchan fake gagging like his life depended on it.

“Umm...Izuku, was it?” asked Tenya, feeling awkward under the other boy’s intense gaze.

“It sure was” replied the boy, feeling happy about leaving enough of an impression to be remembered from all those weeks ago “Fancy seeing you here, huh?”

“Indeed-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Deku!” exclaimed Bakugou, completely fed up with the cringeworthy display in front of him “Just tell four-eyes that you came here because you wanted to see him and be done with it!”

“WHAT?”

“Kacchan, not now! I’m trying to put on some moves!”

“Well your moves are shit-”

“Hey, aren’t you that guy from the news who stabbed a villain in the eye with an axe?!” shouted one of the students while pointing at Izuku. There was something ironic about the fact that it was his stunt on live TV from 2 weeks ago that got everyone’s heads turning and not his iconic outfit, or inappropriate behaviour, or literally anything else about him. Like that’s just rude ok? And interrupting him while he’s trying to flirt? Also rude.

“Bitch, I might be” he replied anyway, because his reputation was on the line and because at this point literally everyone has gathered around the desk that he sat on, so things were way past the point of return. People were throwing questions and accusations at him left and right, Trash Bandit is nowhere to be found and his quil flask is not full enough for this bullshit. At this point Bakugou simply got up from his seat and sat at the back of the room, as far away from this nonsense as possible.

“It’s you!”exclaimed the boy with dual coloured hair and equally mismatched eyes “You’re the guy who keeps T-posing in front of my house. Can you please stop?!” he asked with the most deadpan face Izuku has ever seen despite his voice being filled with desperation.

“Look, I T-pose in front of a lot of houses so you’re gonna have to be more specific” he replied sarcastically — despite knowing exactly who he was talking to — since it probably wasn’t a good moment to mention that you’re besties with that person’s mom because you were both stuck in the same loony bin and so you already know all the family drama and have dedicated a good portion of your time to harassing her abusive piece of shit husband…especially with like 20 people around you.

“You’re the one who egged my limo!” shouted one of the girls at the back. She was a very tall girl with long, dark hair tied in a seemingly gravity defying ponytail and a kind face. She had an air of a distinguished lesbian about her, which Izuku could respect even if she was rich if the limo comment was anything to go by. He egged several limos in his lifetime because seeing rich people out in public makes him go apeshit, as it should, so really how is he supposed to remember everyone?

“And I will egg it again!” promised Izuku “When I see rich people out and about it triggers my fight-or-fuck response”

“Don’t you mean fight-or-flight?” she asked.

“No”

“Are you ok?”

“Not in the slightest”

And with that more people joined in on the conversation, including a particular girl who very much looked like an alien with her bright pink skin and black sclera who ended up complementing his outfit, which thank fuck someone here actually had good taste , as well as a guy who ended up being Ms Shouji’s son, and the only reason he found out was because the guy recognised his antics based on the gossip his mom told him and isn’t that a small fuckin world? And in the middle of it all laid an inconspicuous yellow sleeping bag that has been conveniently ignored by everyone for the sake of the plot up until now.

The sleeping bag began to seemingly unzip by itself and soon enough Bandit’s head poked out of it.

“Bandit! There you are”

“Baaah!”

“Guys! Look at this dog!” exclaimed one of the students who Izuku thought looked like a personification of weed, but he wasn’t going to say that. At least the guy knew what he was talking about.

“I’m pretty certain it’s a sheep-” added Tenya, taking his role as the last standing voice of reason in this room very seriously, even though his voice has practically drowned in the sea of teenagers chanting ‘good doggo’, similarly to how one might feel if they were standing at a dance floor while Baby Got Back started playing.

It’s also important to note that while all of this was happening, Bakugou who has sat himself at the back of the room was forced to witness the chaotic force that is Izuku interacting with multiple people at once while being able to convince about 20 of them to refer to his sheep as a dog, and in that moment he turned around staring into the void and asked himself “Am I having a fuckin stroke?”

“Nah, he’s always like that” replied the one person who was sat at the back along with him that Bakugou previously did not bother to notice.

“And how would you know, you damn extra?” asked Bakugou somewhat offended, because sure him and Izuku were not on the friendliest terms and the whole incident from last year really changed him and what not. But they still knew each other their whole lives, so really that had to count for something and Bakugou was not willing to compromise on that with some random extra who looked like a Tinky Winky humansona on drugs.

Unfortunately Bakugou was not able to get an answer because the entire class was interrupted by a homeless looking guy coming out of the yellow sleeping bag to shame student kind. “If you’re here to socialise, then get out” he said. Soon enough the room was filled with a tense silence as the students were unsure of what to expect next.

“It took 8 seconds for you to quiet down. Time is a precious resource. You lot aren’t very rational, are you?” asked the man as he walked to the front of the classroom, making it very clear that he was in fact their teacher. The man was rather tall and unkept, his hair was long and slightly curled, similar to Izuku’s own and the outfit he wore could only be described as a goth onesie. There was something very familiar about him but Izuku couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be.

However, just because Izuku’s memory aligns very closely with a slice of swiss cheese doesn’t mean that the same can be said about the teacher in question. As soon as he turned around to get a good look at his new class his eyes fell on Izuku and his face has swiftly shifted from that of practiced disinterest to shock and recognition that Izuku honestly was not expecting.

“What are you doing here problem child?” asked the man with a certain degree of disbelief in his voice. Once again there was something very familiar about him and the way he addressed Izuku and wait a minute did he just call me a problem child? That can’t be-

“Uncle Shouta” exclaimed the boy in a way that felt uncertain, yet childishly hopeful “Is that you?”

“Of course it is brat, who else would I be?” he replied with a hint of amusement.

#revival of midoriya izuku #demise!au #bnha #fanfic #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #trash bandit #aizawa shouta #iida tenya

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ssnakey-b · 5 years

Text

Square-Enix announces FFVIII remaster. I wish I could be excited about it.

Me desperately trying to convince myself that I'm happy we got some acknowledgement of the 20th anniversary.

So Square-Enix just announced that Final Fantasy VIII is getting a remaster and first things first, in case you haven’t seen it yet, here it is:

youtube

Many of us FF8 fans are of course very excited about this announcement and even though I made sure not to set my expectations too high when I first heard the rumours, I too was happy to learn that Square-Enix was acknowledging the 20th anniversary of our favourite game, and that it was finally getting some recognition outside of crossovers and the occasional cameo or reference.

But then, I watched the trailer again and as the euphoria of the original announcement faded, I started noticing some things I was less than impressed by, and within an hour, I came to the realization that... I just plain don’t like the direction where this thing is going.

Let’s look at the characters one by one and let’s immediately address the elephant in the room:

Squall’s stupid Dissidia face. This was an immediate disappointment. At least they stuck to his original outfit, I suppose, but man, I cannot comprehend this decision. Why? Why can’t they leave the original design alone? Everyone loves that design, even the people who hate Squall. And why mess with the character’s design in a product that’s made solely as fanservice for long time fans?! Why must Dissidia replace every. Goddamn. Thing whether the fans like it or not?!

That’s actually a joke I made to myself. “Man, can you imagine if at E3 they announced that they’d just replace Squall’s model with the Dissidia one! HA HA HA!” and I actually didn’t even bring it up in the Discord because I didn’t want to be obnoxious with yet more bashing of Squall’s Dissidia redesign. And yet, here we are, they actually fucking did it. They actually just took the original FF8 and fucked it up by putting Dissidia Squall in it. Guess I am justified in my bashing (and I do like the Dissidia games a lot, make no mistake, I just can’t stand that stupid and pointless redesign of Squall).

And it’s not just that it’s different, and it’s not just because it’s blatantly a recycled asset that’s been retooled slightly, it really does look terrible to me. I really don’t like his overly thin face, his overly soft features, and the fact that he generally looks like he’s 14. Yes, I know he’s a teenager, but he’ still not THIS young, and his original design really gave you the impression that it was someone who trained to be a professional fighter, as opposed to a shoujo manga character.

The hair also looks off. It looks less like hair and more like a plastic helmet or something.

And I know people made jokes about how spiky it was in the original game due to the technical limitations of the time, but it still looked good in my opinion, and it was designed in such a way that it actually looked like his biggest bangs rested naturally on his ears. Here his hair just makes weird solid spikes because... I don’t know, he’s related to Phoenix Wright, now? I used to joke that Squall must be the type of guy who spends hours making it look like he spends no time on his looks, but here it really looks like the dude is just slathering his hair in gel to create these spikes and make them fashionable.

And speaking of the bangs, I have no idea why they thought making the ones on the sides of his head all curvy was a good idea. To me, it just looks like armpit hair, or really unkempt sideburns. I’m just amazed by how not a single strand of hair on that model wants to obey the laws of physics.

These changes are especially jarring to me considering they apparently haven’t touched the CGI cutscenes, making it blatant that it’s not what he’s supposed to look like. So at least it’s creating inconsistencies that didn’t exist in the original game, so that’s a bonus.

Also, looking at the folds on his jacket, they... really don’t look good. Looking back at the original model, they really knew how to work with the limitations of the time, so the folds are more understated, yet at the same time, there was more of a contrast with the rest of the jacket, making it again look more real in spite of the lower resolution.

Oh and it looks like they gave him skinny legs like in Dissidia because Heaven forbid that a professional mercenary looks like received para-military training.

Next on the list is Quistis and she does look a lot better than Squall. I especially like how serious she looks. All business all the time. But again, the hair is where it falters. It looks weirdly... poofy, for lack of a better word, compared to her original self and much like Squall’s jacket, the texture of it feels far less sharp than originally, especially when you look at where the bangs meet the pulled back part of her hair. It really feels like there should be a bigger contrast in the shading to highlight the shape of it and give it more volume.

Again, compare with the original, which had a much sharper contrast between the shadows and the highlights, and so made it look a lot more voluminous and lively. Also notice that there was more shading on the original model, giving it a more defined shape. And much like with Squall, the hair gives me that weird impression of just being clipped on and not actually connected to the head, which wasn’t a problem with the older models. This will continue to be a trend, but more on that later.

The same goes for the clothes. Again, in spite of being lower resolution, you can see folds and you can easily imagine the texture of it, but in this trailer, everything is completely smooth and flat. It really takes away from the personality this outfit shows.

Then, there’s Linoa, and she too I’m pretty sure is based off her Dissidia design, though there’s a bigger chance they actually made a new model seeing how Dissidia NT models have a much higher polycount than the PSP games. Now, I actually liked her Dissidia redesign. It wasn’t quite the same as in the original game, but I liked how they made her look more mature and even a bit curvier, which makes sense since it’s set after the events of each character’s game.

So even though the rounder face seems a bit odd in the original game, I can could have been happy with it and besides, there seemed to be quite a few differences between her CGI model and her battle model in FF8 anyway, so I’m not gonna complain about it looking a bit different. But then, once again, there’s the hair...

So... what happened to her caramel strands? You know, the signature part of her looks? If you look veeeeery closely during the video, there’s what might be a couple very faded strands, but the fact that I’m not sure should tell you everything you need to know, as they’re pretty much gone. And overall, the modeling just isn’t very good and much like with Squall, her bangs just look weird, overly stiff and spiky. Unlike with the original model, it feels like it was cut out that way like cardboard or something rather than naturally following the shape of her head.

One positive I’ll give it is that we can clearly see the two rings on her necklace, and I’ll give them bonus points if there’s only one before Squall hands her his ring.

On to Selphie.

...

She actually looks fine and is definitely the one who comes out the best from this whole thing. No complaints there, even though we don’t get to see much of her. Even her wristband/bracelet thing is more detailed, which will come in very handy for fan art.

Next is Zell. Now, I’ve seen people mention/complain that they gave him a babyface, but I actually don’t mind that. Zell’s whole deal is that he’s trying to act tough and dangerous even though he’s clearly a loving mama’s boy, so it fits in that he’d look more youthful and innocent. Hell, one could even argue it explains why he wanted to get a face tattoo. No, I have far more of an issue with everyone else having baby faces as well.

And last but not least, we have Irvine. Now face-ise, I don’t have much of a problem with it, looks pretty good. The bangs are a little weird and again give me that cardboard/wood cutout feel, but still, doesn’t look bad.

What does look bad is Irvine’s shotgun:

The barrels look weird, right? Well that’s because as you may have noticed, the texture for the holes isn’t aligned with the 3D model. That’s also why you can see a bit of wood texture on one of the cannons. And you can’t see it very well on this screenshot, but the chamber also has mismatching textures.

That’s right, in the trailer announcing a remaster that's supposed to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the game, a product whose only purpose is to make the game look better, they felt comfortable showing us graphical issues that weren’t present in the original game.

Now sure, this will probably be fixed by the time the remaster gets released (at least I hope it will) but I cannot stress this enough, the one thing this remaster is supposed to do is make the game look better and the big announcement trailer cannot even promise us decent texturing.

It also says a lot about the different treatment of fandoms that on the same day, FF7 fans get more insight on an awesome remake of a game that’s already been ported to pretty much every current system in existence, has had multiple sequels, spin-offs and adaptations and constantly gets referenced in other games, with all the love and care that one should expect from a major AAA project but for FF8 fans, proper texture mapping is too much to ask.

It just boggles my mind that a major publisher would create a trailer blatantly showing broken graphics, but to do so for a remaster is just incomprehensible to me.

And speaking of the textures, this leads me to my main issue with these models, which is that they just plain don’t look good. Final Fantasy VIII had a really strong visual identity and compared to the rest of the games, it looked extremely realistic, to the point that even the more recent games that do go for a more realistic feel, like XIII or XV, still have a more overtly fantasy feel. And FFVIII pulled off that realistic style amazingly well. Even though it was made using technology that wasn’t anywhere near as advanced as what we have to day, they still felt like flesh and bone people, and that made them that much more relatable.

But here, that strong identity has been completely neutered. Everything looks way too soft and clean. The textures have no definition to them and are overly smooth; they look airbrushed. And look, I’m not gonna pretend that the characters in the original looked gritty or anything, they were still pretty boys and girls, but they were believable pretty boys and girls. There was still something about them that made it feels like they could be people you’d meet in the streets. Here, their uncannily smooth and featureless skin looks like plastic. They look like action figures.

These models not only look bland and boring IMO, but they just do not fit with the style of FF8, which is going to be especially jarring considering they apparently don’t intend to upgrade the backgrounds. Hell, these models don’t even fit with one-another, as Squall and Linoa really don’t look like they belong with the rest of the team, IMO.

To really ram home how badly this remaster fails to understand FFVIII’s aesthetic, just look at this comparison, which just made me go “Urgh!” when I saw it. Just look Squall and Quistis don’t fit in with this environment. See how especially out of place Squall looks. Behold how stiff and awkward his hair is. Marvel at his collar made of crumbled up tissue paper! Admire how his once intense expression now looks bland and boring! Behold how what few folds left on Quistis’ overly smooth outfits no longer follow the shape of her body! Gaze in wonder at how lifeless these soulless mannequins look.

It’s just so sad and what makes it worse is that just a few months ago, we had the FF8 Mobius event which gave us an HD version of Squall and Ultimecia and that looked amazing! Now obviously a full game with that look wasn’t gonna happen, but I really would have hoped that they’d at least use it as a guideline for the direction to take the art in. Instead, all we get for the 20th anniversary is a remaster that can’t even promise to look as good as the original.

It’s just so sad, and some people are already defending it by saying that we should be happy we got anything at all, or that we shouldn’t be “ungrateful” about it. No! We shouldn’t be content with mediocrity just because it’s better than nothing, especially when I’m not convinced it is. It’s a terribly apathetic to have, and I’m pretty sure it’s the exact sort of attitude AAA companies want to cultivate: be happy with what you get because you ain’t getting anything else.

As for being ungrateful, that’s just laughable. They’re not giving us a present, people, it’s a re-release of a 20 year-old game and as far as I can tell, all they’re doing is change the 3D models, and we’re still gonna have to pay for it. It’s a glorified mod and yet it barely competes with fan-made ones.

Add to this how quickly slapped together the trailer blatantly was, using what is hopefully an early build of the remaster and being half made of CGI footage despite the fact that they don’t appear to have done anything new to it, and it really doesn’t give me the vibe of something made with love.

Honestly, I used to think I was gonna buy it either way, partly because I still wanted to see how it was, partly because I wanted to support Square-Enix but honestly, seeing how this is shaping up, I don’t want to support this any more. I already bought the game on PS1 and PC, why should I buy it a third time in a worse-looking version?

Look, I really wanted to get excited for this. I really wanted to celebrate some new official FF8 content with everyone, but I can only judge it from what I’m seeing, and what I’m seeing is an unfitting art direction, recycled assets and mismatched textures. I just cannot bring myself to cheer on something that really doesn’t seem

So unless they really show us stuff that blows me away before release, I think I’ll stick with the PC version (or maybe the PS1 version on emulators if I’m feeling REALLY nostalgic), even if there is no good reason why it should still be doing such a better job of improving the game’s graphics than an official remaster. Oh and by the way, let us not forget that this is something that console players don’t get the luxury to do since FF8 was infamously not ported to modern consoles, unlike all the other ones. So if you play on consoles and want to play the original without the remastered graphics, fuck you, I guess.

Yep, still the best looking guy here.

#Final fantasy #Final Fantasy VIII #Final Fantasy 8 #FF8 #FFVIII #remaster #E3 #Square-enix #trailer #redesign #disappointment #underwhelmed #rant #déception #PC #PS4 #Xbox #Switch

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anxstiel · 5 years

Text

Black Eyes Surprise

Author: @anxstiel

Prompt: She pulled the knife from her chest and smiled.

“Was that supposed to hurt?”

Pairings: Dean Winchester X Demon!Reader

Words: 2K

Warnings: A bit of making out, Dean blushing, Humorous towards the end, Crowley and Dean Bromance

Summary: You’ve been Crowley’s right hand in Hell for a very long time and you both consider each other as not-exactly-friends-but-more-than-just-colleagues. You’ve been a bit out of the loop from everything happening on earth though so you have never had the pleasure of knowing about the Winchesters. Now, Crowley is letting you back onto earth and he has a job for you.

The music coming from the bar in front of you was so loud you could hear it from a mile away. Lights were flashing and making everyone within the city know that there was some serious partying going down in the building. You grimaced at the sight, not a fan of loud music or large crowds.

You hear a man walking up from behind you and you roll your eyes. “You didn’t have to come and check on me, Crowley,” you turned and glared at the King of Hell. “I’ll get the job done. This isn’t my first time.”

The demon sighed. “Yes, well,” he made his way to stand beside you, causing you to turn back around as you both stared at the bar. “This job is a bit different, Darling.”

This caused you to huff in annoyance. “So? What do you want me to do then?”

A smirk slowly crept its way onto Crowley’s face. “The target is my best friend and I –”

You snorted, causing him to glare at you due to your interruption. “I’m sorry, but,” you let out another bark of laughter. “Friend? Since when did the King of Hell have friends? Does he even know you consider him your friend?” You put your hands on your hips and raise an eyebrow at him. “Is this a one-sided relationship?”

“Oh, knock it off Y/N!” Crowley snapped causing you to give off a slight chuckle. You always loved messing with him. “My friend is currently … “ he paused, looking for the right words. “Upset with me. He won’t talk to me or even listen to my voicemails. He doesn’t even reply to the emoticons I send him!” He sighed, trying to calm down from his built up frustration. “I just need you to go in there and talk him up, Y/N. Don’t let him know that you’re a demon or that you work for me. Wait until you’re both outside.”

“Easy enough,” you replied in a boring tone, shrugging. “I mean, if he’s a friend of yours there must be something wrong with him. What is he? A monster? Stupid? Ugly?”

Crowley gave a thoughtful look as if he was considering your questions. “Stupid, a bit. Not exactly a monster, though. He’s completely human, at least.” He turned and gave you a smile. “Definitely not ugly. He’s possibly one of the most handsome men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled at him. “Well, that’s all fine and dandy but how will I know what he looks like?”

His smile was smug as he reached into his coat and pulled out a picture. “Here you go.”

You looked at him suspiciously as you snatched the photo from his hand. Looking at the photo, you couldn’t contain your laughter. “What the – ?” You broke off into more laughter. “Crowley! What were you doing? Why are you both in those ridiculous hats? And why is he so freaking hot?”

The King of Hell grimaced at her onslaught of questions. “Yes, yes, I know that he is, as you say, ‘hot’. And about the hats, don’t judge us, or at least not me. The hats and photo was his idea.”

Still grinning and with tears of laughter lingering in your eyes you asked, “Who exactly is this guy, boss?”

Grinning, Crowley gestured towards the bar, “You’re about to find out, Darling.”

You frowned at the door, extremely unwilling to go inside. Turning around, you were about to ask your fellow demon something only to find that he was no longer there. Scowling, you huffed in frustration and shoved the photo into your pocket before making your way to the door.

You instantly regretted it.

As soon as you opened the door, the loud music with the mix of all the people nearly caused you to go deaf. Grimacing, you tried to push your way through the crowd, trying desperately to catch sight of the man you were searching for. After about thirty minutes of searching through the crowd, you were about to give up. “Maybe Crowley got the wrong bar. Or maybe he just already left.”

You let your eyes slide over the crowd once more before finally resting on the bar. And there he was. You knew it instantly. Just by looking at that one photo you had you could immediately recognize his scruffy stubble, his sharp jaw, his perfect hair, and his perfectly sculpted body. The only issue? Man, was this guy wearing a lot of flannel.

He seemed to be lost in thought as he tapped his empty glass on the bar. The bartender came up and looked to be asking the man if he wanted some more. This made him jump slightly, shaking him out of his thoughts before replying. The barman nodded and took his glass.

“Excuse me?” A rude, snobbish voice from behind you made you jump. Turning around, you glared at the platinum blonde in four-inch pumps and wearing a dress that hugged her curves, came down to her mid-thigh, and showed way too much cleavage.

“Can I help you?” You asked in a strained, polite tone.

The woman huffed and flipped her hair. “Yeah. You could help me by getting off the dance floor. People are trying to have fun over here and you’re just standing there staring at a guy at the bar like some stalker! Move please!” She flipped her hair once more before spinning around, soon disappearing into the crowd once more. You gaped after her incredulously as you internally fumed at the woman.

Now miffed, you turned back to the man who was now holding a full glass of what seemed to be whiskey. You quickly looked down at your outfit. You were wearing a white, button-down blouse with black leggings and black flats. Sighing, you reached up and unbuttoned your top three buttons to try and show off your own cleavage in hopes that it will help you get him outside.

You started to walk over, grabbing a martini from a waiter passing by and put up the act of being a bit tipsy. You put a goofy smile onto your face and let out a few obnoxious giggles to help get into character.

Stumbling over, you sat down on the stool beside the intriguing man. You sat patiently, smiling drunkenly as you observed his handsome features until he finally realized you were there. He raised an eyebrow as he sat his drink down and let his eyes wander down your body before resting them back onto your E/C eyes.

Raising a hand for him to shake, you introduced yourself. “Hey, handsome!” You grinned excitedly as he shook your hand. “The name’s Y/N! How ‘bout you?”

The man shifted in his seat before replying. “Dean. My name’s Dean Winchester.”

You smiled. Even his name was intriguing. “So, Dean,” you let your hand trail down his arm as he shivered under the touch. “What do you do for a living?”

His mind seemed to go blank as he finally tore his eyes off of you and back to his drink. “Uh … Well … I …” He stopped his stuttering and cleared his throat, taking a quick drink of his whiskey. “I work in Insurance! It’s, uh, a pretty boring job but it pays alright I suppose.” He stopped talking as a blush started to creep it’s way up his neck. You smiled at this and rested your elbow on the bar, your head resting upon your fist.

“Hmm, that sounds interesting.” This only seemed to cause him to blush harder and it was quite obvious that he was internally scolding himself.

Leaning closer, you talked into his ear. “How about we get out of here, Dean?” Your hand made its way to the front of his shirt where you began to tease at his top button. “You and me? Get away from the noise?”

Dean let out a strangled moan at your closeness and quickly swallowed the rest of his alcohol. He spluttered as the strong beverage slid down his throat but he was finally able to nod in your direction. You grabbed a handful of his shirt and began to tug him away. He pulled back slightly so he could pay for his drinks but then followed you willingly.

Stumbling, you both made your way out the back and into the alley. You weren’t entirely sure what you should next but seeing that slightly dazed look on Dean’s face made you want nothing more than for this to be real and not just a job. Before you knew it, it was as if your body wasn’t in control anymore. You pushed him against the wall of the dark alley and shoved your lips onto his.

Now, it’s been a long time since you’ve done anything remotely like this, and especially to someone that you just met, but you had to admit that the kiss was amazing. He was seriously a really good kisser. It seemed as if he had a lot of experience. A lot of good experience.

While you were lost in thought, Dean was able to take control and spun the both of you around to where it was now you pressed against the wall and Dean pressing his lips forcefully against yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and his into yours. Neither of you was willing to let you go but you both had to breathe - well, Dean had to.

As you were both panting for breath, you looked into each other’s eyes in a daze that neither wanted broken - that was until Dean let out a shout in surprise and stumbled back in shock. You looked at him in confusion until you realized, that in the heat of the moment, your eyes had turned black proving to him that you were actually a demon.

You went to explain yourself but instead found yourself being impaled with a knife. You couldn’t help but laugh at his failed attempt at killing you. You pulled the knife out of your chest and gave him a smug smile. “Was that supposed to hurt?” You teased.

He cursed and scolded himself as he started to back away from you some more. “The one day I forget the demon knife at home!”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the fact that your moment was over, but you knew it was a moment you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. “Okay, yeah, I’m a demon,” you admitted. Your eyes briefly flashing black before turning back to your bright E/C ones. “I was sent to retrieve you for Crowley. Ya know, your bestie?”

You stood patiently as he gawked at you and tried to process the situation. He finally seemed to understand and began shaking his head frantically. “Crowley is not my bestie!” He shouted. “I hate him! He’s the King of Hell! I’ve never been his best friend!”

“Not true, Dean.” The voice from behind him made Dean nearly jump out of his skin.

“Crowley!” He barked. “Quit doing that!”

“My apologies, Squirrel,” the demon replied in a sarcastic matter. He turned towards you. “Good work, Y/N. Wasn’t really expecting -” he waved his hand lazily in the air trying to find the right words. “- That, but whatever. What’s done is done.”

You blushed slightly at the thought of your boss watching you make-out with a guy. That was embarrassing.

Dean scowled at Crowley and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want?” Crowley frowned at this question and looked at Dean as if the answer was obvious. “It’s simple, Squirrel! You weren’t talking to me and this was the only thing I could think of to get my best friend back again.”

“Oh really?” He mused. “Having one of your demon employees come down and make-out with me a dark alley was the only thing you could think of, huh?”

Crowley shrugged. “Well, her job was to just seduce you into coming outside. She was the one that wanted to kiss you and such. Besides, who cares about the details, right?”

The Winchester rolled his eyes, and turned around, beginning to make his way out of the alley and back onto the street. “I am not putting up with this right now, Crowley.”

The King of Hell’s face flushed red in frustration as he watched Dean walk away. “You can walk away all you want to, Winchester!” He called. “But no matter what, you will be mine once more!” This time he flushed in embarrassment. “Oh! Wait! That came out wrong! I meant you would be my friend once more! Dean! Come back!”

Before Dean disappeared from sight he flipped Crowley off without looking back or saying a word.

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck, appalled by the words that just came out of his mouth. He turned towards you. “That sounded a bit gay of me, don’t you think, Y/N?”

You were too distracted to reply as you stared at the spot where you last saw Dean and smiled. Not exactly knowing why, you hoped to see the man again. Real soon.

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #demon!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #mine #my writing #dean x reader #one-shot

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sailorportia · 6 years

Text

Three Englands and an American

Ficlet Valentine for @cwjhunt

Roses are red Bamboo is for pandas I think you’re a star So here’s some Hamanda!

Fandom: Little Witch Academia Pairing: Hannah England x Amanda O’Neill

approx. 1650 words, rated T

In which Hannah receives some unexpected assistance taking care of her two younger cousins.

One kid? Hannah could handle that just fine. Two kids? Pushing the limits, but still manageable. But three kids?

"Kill me now."

Hannah had been press-ganged by her family into taking care of her younger cousins for an afternoon during their visit to Blytonbury. The girls were pleasant enough to spend time with, but they needed all of her attention. The last person Hannah wanted to see right now was Amanda O'Neill, who happened to be walking toward them.

The girls noticed that their cousin recognized Amanda.

"Who's that, Hannah?" The younger of the two girls, Gabriella tugged at Hannah's sleeve. Like all the Englands, she had auburn hair, tied back in two pigtails, and dressed in clothes as similar to the Luna Nova uniform as she could get—Gabriella couldn't wait to go to the same school as her cousin. The eight year-old was Hannah's favourite of the two, sweet, well-mannered, and shaping up to be a proper witch.

"Is that your girlfriend?" The older of the two girls, Danielle, had learned the previous summer that Hannah was bisexual and brought it up at every available opportunity. The twelve year-old had developed an attitude and was old enough to resent having a babysitter, on whom she took out her frustrations through relentless teasing. Danielle couldn't have been more different from her sister; she had recently shorn her long hair into a rough pixie cut in a gesture of rebellion against her parents, and her current outfit was a pair of artfully ripped jeans and a black t-shirt with a crude slogan plastered across it.

"Absolutely not," Hannah protested. "She's nothing but trouble." Particularly what she did to Hannah. And her feelings. Hannah would never have expected that she would actually look forward to Amanda's attention. Unfortunately, the American's interest in her seemed to be strictly intended to frustrate her.

Amanda spotted the three of them, smirked and made a beeline for them. "Kids already?" she said. "I heard teen pregnancy was on the rise but this is ridiculous."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "They're not mine, jackass. They're my cousins."

"I'm Gabriella England. How do you do?" She held out her hand and Amanda shook it solemnly.

"I'm Amanda O'Neill," the American replied. "Coolest witch at Luna Nova."

Hannah elbowed her other cousin. "Introduce yourself, Danielle."

"Ugh," Danielle scoffed. "My name is so frickin' girly. I hate it."

"Danni, then," Amanda said. She held out her first for the twelve year-old to bump. Danni smiled and obliged.

"What are you doing here, Amanda?" Hannah asked. She hoped that she was in Blytonbury for something important so she'd go on her way and leave her alone.

"I was just killing time looking for something to do," Amanda said. "And look what I found." She laughed. "Three Englands? Is this the War of the Roses or something?"

"That reference almost makes sense, so I'll give it a pass," Hannah said. "Now get the hell out of here."

Gabriella tugged at Hannah's sleeve again. "Hannah, you said a bad word."

"Yeah," Danni said. "And earlier you called Amanda a jackass." Gabriella reprimanded her sister for repeating the word.

"Urk!" Hannah had forgotten to watch her mouth around the two younger girls. Amanda really did bring out the worst in her.

"Wow, Hannah," Amanda said, smirking even more obnoxiously. "Looks like you don't have what it takes to take care of kids."

Hannah put her hands on her hips. "And you do?"

"I'm actually great with kids."

"Yeah, because you are one!"

"As fun is it is to watch your lover's spat," Danni said, "I thought we were going to the park."

"Yeah!" Gabriella said. "You said we were going to see the ducks and go to a café!"

"We are not having a lover's spat!" Hannah blushed.

"Like I'd be having a lover's spat with her!" Amanda said, forcing a laugh.

"Amanda should come with us too!" Gabriella grabbed Amanda's arm.

"Yeah," Danni chimed in. "Amanda seems like way more fun than you." She grabbed Amanda's other arm.

"I've been captured," Amanda said dramatically. "I guess I have no choice."

"No way," Hannah said. "I'm not watching three kids."

"Please?" Gabriella and Danni gave Hannah their best wobbly lip

Hannah considered her options. She didn't need Amanda complicating her task of taking care of her cousins, but on the other hand, Gabriella and Danni rarely agreed on anything, and if she could mollify both at once, that was a win. And if Amanda was as good with kids as she said she was...

"Fine," Hannah sighed. "But you better behave yourself." She pointed at Amanda accusingly.

"Yes, mom."

The group of three became four and made their way to the park. Hannah led the way, holding Gabriella's hand; Danni trailing at Amanda's heels like a puppy. Once at the park, Gabriella went straight to the pond to feed the ducks, and Amanda magicked up a ball for her and Danni to kick around. Hannah noticed that Amanda had intuited Danni's boundless energy and chosen an activity that would tire her out. In theory. Danni ended up climbing a tree to show off to Amanda. While Hannah chased her back down to the ground, Amanda gave Gabriella a piggyback ride. Once the energy was wrung out of the two girls, they lazed around on the grass in front of the lake—Hannah chastised Amanda for her unladylike sitting position.

"I wish Amanda were my cousin," Danni said wistfully. "She's so much cooler than Hannah."

Hannah frowned, but before she could respond, Amanda chimed in. "You have no idea. Hannah's such a bossy-pants."

"I know how bossy she is way better than you," Danni said competitively. "She's always lecturing me on manners 'cause she's the queen of being ladylike."

Amanda scoffed. "Hannah? Ladylike? She challenged me to a duel for pulling a prank on her." She neglected to mention it was the eighth prank that week.

"Whoa!" Danni looked at Hannah with stars in her eyes. "You challenged someone to a duel!?"

"That's nothing," Amanda said. She smirked at Hannah. "Didn't you spit at Chloe after she trash-talked Diana?"

"That was supposed to be a secret!"

"Hannah, spitting is bad," Gabriella said earnestly.

"Well," Hannah scrambled for an appropriate answer. "If someone is being rude, they aren't deserving of a lady's finer manners and should be treated accordingly."

Gabriella considered this, while Danni stared at Hannah incredulously, apparently reassessing her opinion of her cousin.

Their time in the park came to an end and Hannah ushered the others in the direction of the café. As the girls walked (Amanda joking with the girls along the way), Hannah tried to puzzle out Amanda's behaviour. Not only was she actually being helpful, her revelations that Hannah wasn't as stiff as she seemed gave her a huge boost in Danni's books. Was Amanda trying to make things easier on her? Naturally Hannah appreciated the effort, but the thought of Amanda going out of her way for her put butterflies in her stomach.

They got to the café and Amanda took the others' orders. When it came for Hannah's turn, Amanda put a finger on her lips before she could speak.

"I know exactly what you want," Amanda said before walking off mysteriously.

"Ooh!" Gabriella and Danni voiced in unison. Hannah shushed them and herded them off to a table.

Amanda returned with their orders; she handed Hannah a scone and a coffee with a single cream—just how she liked it.

"How'd I do?" Amanda asked cockily.

"H-h-how do you know what I like?" Hannah spluttered.

"I asked Barbara and she said that was your fave." Amanda waved her phone.

"You have Barbara's number?"

Amanda smirked. "Jealous?"

"As if!"

"Damn, I try to impress you and this is what I get?" A crack appeared in Amanda’s suave facade at that slip of the tongue.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about impressing anybody?"

"That's the thing," Amanda replied nervously. "You're not anybody; you're nobody!"

"Hey!" Hannah felt her face grow hot with indignation. And then she processed that, posturing aside, Amanda had admitted to trying to impress her, and her face grew even hotter out of embarrassment.

"Awww, you two are so such a cute couple," Danni said, taking a self-satisfied bite of her donut.

"We are not a couple!" Hannah yelped.

"Amanda, Hannah won't tell us if she has a boyfriend," Gabriella said. "Does she have a boyfriend?"

"Does she have a girlfriend?" Danni asked.

"Not yet," Amanda said, winking at Hannah, who made a strangled noise in response.

Is Amanda flirting with me!? The thought was more than she could bear. Is that what she's been doing all along!? Or is just trying to annoy me? Did she come along with us because she wanted to spend time with me? Impress me?

"Just have your snacks, children," Hannah said in a high-pitched voice. The girls grinned and did as they were told. Even Amanda.

For a while, anyway.

"Admit it," she said, nudging Hannah with her elbow, "you're glad I'm here to help you out."

Hannah couldn't disagree. Amanda had made the afternoon easier on Hannah. She was good with kids after all, and they actually made quite the team. Taking care of kids. Together.

And following that line of thought made Hannah choke on her coffee.

"I had lots of fun with Amanda," Danni said.

"Me too!" Gabriella added.

The hopeful tones in their voices pushed Hannah to make a decision. She ignored her own apprehensions and the jittering of her heartbeats and pushed forward. "I'm in charge of Gabriella and Danni tomorrow too," she said. "I... I would appreciate it if you helped me baby-sit them again."

"It's a date." Amanda smiled so sincerely that Hannah was left speechless.

"I guess I'll be getting Amanda as a cousin after all," Danni said slyly.

"Danni England!"

#ficlet valentine #little witch academia #lwa #hamanda #hannah england #amanda o'neill #heckin' ocs my dude #gabriella england #danni england #fluff #sass #valentine for cam #ily cam!#💙💙💙#my fanfiction

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swanslieutenant · 6 years

Text

from the sea - chapter five

Summary: When Emma becomes sheriff, the pressure of running a department with a dwindling budget becomes nothing but an exercise in frustration. That is, until she finds an unlikely ally in the town treasurer, a man who her kid Henry is convinced is not an ally at all, but rather a villainous enemy. Season 1 AU, Cursed!Killian.

Rating and Warnings: Teen.

Catch up: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4

Read on AO3

On the Sunday morning following Emma’s coffee outing with Newport, she is awoken by the shrill ringing of the loft’s landline telephone. Emma nearly topples completely out bed at the sound, grunting in surprise. As if it wasn’t loud enough, the piercing sounds of the telephone are soon followed with a sudden clattering of dishes, echoing and crashing throughout the loft.

“Sorry!” Mary Margaret calls from downstairs, her voice breathless as if she’d just run a marathon. “I dropped all the pots and pans.”

“All of them?” Emma mutters darkly, reaching up to her bed to grab her pillow, stuffing it over her face to try to muffle some of the ringing that is still screeching throughout the apartment. “How is that even possible?”

Finally, the phone’s shrill rings cut off, and Emma can hear Mary Margaret talking in hushed tones to whoever is on the other line.

Emma lies there, pillow over her face, and briefly considers hauling herself back into the bed and burrowing her nose back into the warmth of her covers rather than just getting up and on with her day. This Sunday is one of her rare days off, and she’d been looking forward to having the morning to sleep in. But now that she’s awake, there’s no point pretending anymore.

Untwisting herself from the blankets, she rises from the floor and grabs her glasses from beside the clock on her bedside table. She never wears them out anymore, but her eyesight is still so bad that they’re needed to get from the bedroom to the bathroom to put her contacts in without an incident of cracking her knee against a bedpost or completely wiping out down the stairs.

By the time she’s dressed and on her way downstairs, Mary Margaret is off the phone. She meets Emma at the bottom of the stairs, phone still clutched in her hands, an eager shine to her eyes.

“Do you want to come to the farmer’s market with me?” she asks, her voice so quick that her words jumble together.

Emma blinks at her, still half-asleep and incapable of translating the muddled words in her current state. “To what?”

“The farmer’s market,” Mary Margaret repeats, forcing her voice calmer. “It’s just down the road, right behind the cannery. It’s where all the local business set up booths and they’ll sell cute little knickknacks and –”

“I know what a farmer’s market is,” Emma interjects dryly, and opens her mouth to agree to come, but then frowns in thought.

Newport’s words about how the farmers and artisans aren’t pleased with her due to the budget shuffle echo through her mind. Her instinct is to deny Mary Margaret’s request, but as quick as she thinks that, she’s changed her mind. If she wants to go to the damn market, she’s gonna go, and not let some bitter townspeople ruin her day.

“Emma?”

She shakes herself. “Yeah, sure. But I have to shower and have breakfast first.”

“Shower only,” Mary Margaret replies firmly, grabbing her arms and steering her away from the kitchen. “They have fresh scones and fruit and all sorts of things at the market.”

Emma’s eyebrows raise at this very un-Mary Margaret-like behaviour, but she can demand to know what the hell is going on, Mary Margaret pushes her into the bathroom and slams the door shut right on her startled face.

“Be quick!”

Emma blinks at the closed door, before shaking her head and getting to her routine. She showers, puts her contact lenses in, and brushes her teeth. She thinks she’s making pretty good time, and is towelling her hair dry when there is a sudden sharp rapping on the door that nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

“How’s it going, Emma?”

She sighs, and opens the door, showing her roommate her damp hair, the towel still around her shoulders. “I’m almost done, but if you’re in a rush, just go without me. I’ll meet you there.”

“No, no, I’ll wait for you, don’t be silly,” Mary Margaret says quickly, her voice too casual. “Just – you know, hurry up.”

Mary Margaret pads away from the door, her cheeks flushed, and Emma gets dressed again in the same outfit she had put on just a few minutes ago – warm white sweater and dark blue jeans. After drying her hair only briefly with Mary Margaret’s obnoxious old hairdryer, she stares longingly at her curling iron, but has a feeling that Mary Margaret will have a fit if she delays them too long with that. Instead, she quickly braids her still damp hair, and hoping that it not being totally dry won’t come back to bite her in the ass – in her experience, wet hair and chilly weather aren’t the best partners.

When Emma emerges from the bathroom, Mary Margaret is seated at the kitchen bar stool. She’s changed her outfit in the time Emma was occupied, and now sports a looser white blouse, paired with a simple grey skirt, instead of the plain sweatpants and old t-shirt she’d been wearing earlier. Emma raises her eyebrow at her, unused to seeing her get dressed up so nicely on the weekend.

She jumps to her feet as Emma exits the bathroom, swinging a bright green scarf around her neck and rather hilariously hitting herself in the face with the other end.

“Ready? Let’s go.”

She is halfway out the door before Emma has even taken a step further.

“Whoa, what has gotten into you?” she demands, striding to the door and pulling on one of her warmer leather jackets, a deep burgundy one with zippered sleeves, and plopping a knit gray beanie on top of her head, and adds, more to herself than to Mary Margaret, “Seriously, what is the deal with people in Storybrooke and this market?”

“Nothing’s up with me,” Mary Margaret says, her flushed cheeks saying exactly the opposite. “I just don’t want to miss the market.”

Emma is certain that they’re nowhere near the end time for one of these things – it’s only 9:30 after all – but keeps that comment to herself as she and Mary Margaret leave their apartment and make their way down the street to the parking lot next to the cannery.

Emma can hear the sounds of the market far before they can even see it: loud chatter, folk music, the idling engines of cars. When they finally come around the corner of the small hotel that blocks their view of the parking lot, they are greeted with five spacious rows of ten booths each that take up the majority of the paved area. The whole market area is packed, families browsing through the many stalls full of fresh fruit, wooden houseware, and various knickknacks.

“Aren’t you glad I dragged you along for this?” Mary Margaret sighs happily, and she links arms with Emma, tugging her along to the first aisle of vendors.

“I suppose so,” she replies grumpily, tugging at her beanie to pull down lower over her head at the cold sea breeze off the ocean. “I wish you’d let me get some coffee beforehand, but –”

“You drink too much coffee, Emma,” Mary Margaret says brightly. “One morning without will do you some good.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Who are you, my mother?”

Mary Margaret comes to a stop then, and Emma nearly dislocates her elbow at the sudden stop in movement. Muttering a curse, she looks around to see what has stopped her roommate, and then she spots it.

Or rather, who.

David Nolan, standing innocently beside a flower stand and peering at the bouquet of red roses in front of him.

Of course.

Immediately, Emma searches for Kathryn Nolan somewhere around him too. But David is alone, his wife nowhere to be seen.

“So, this is why you wanted to come here so badly,” she mutters, and earns herself a sharp elbow in the ribs in response.

“I didn’t even know he’d be here!” Mary Margaret shoots back quickly, but her cheeks are flushed pink, reddening even more as Emma catches her gaze.

Emma snorts, and shakes her head, unsure whether to be amused or saddened (or worried, frankly) about her friend and the married, recovering amnesiac.

“Where are those scones you promised me?” she asks instead, looking at the stalls around them. “I’ll go get one of those while you talk to your Prince Charming.”

Mary Margaret ignores her and simply points out a baked goods stand a couple of booths down the current row. Emma, still rolling her eyes so hard she wonders if you can get an eye injury from over rolling, de-tangles herself from Mary Margaret and heads down there while her roommate teleports to David’s side as soon as she’s stepped away.

Pointedly ignoring them behind her, Emma purchases a strawberry scone from the vendor. She’s a grumpy woman, who glares pointedly at Emma’s sheriff badge pinned to her jeans and makes a big fuss about how Emma doesn’t have the exact change to make the $2.47 that the scone costs. It’s almost more trouble than it’s worth, but Emma’s rumbling stomach makes her grit her teeth and shift a bit more in the depths of her wallet until she finds enough change to make it work.

She munches on the scone and strolls along the vendors. The next stand over is a jewellery one, full of pretty little trinkets of the kind she thinks Mary Margaret would like, but the owner has such a nasty expression on her face when Emma approaches that she feels distinctly unwelcome to even browse. The next stations are similar stories, the owners standing aloof and glaring pointedly at her, when Emma reaches the fourth one in a row like that, she’s nearly lost her patience.

She knows they are angry about the budget cuts to the market, but seriously? She’s a citizen of Storybrooke now too, and they’re glaring at her for daring to show her face here?

Seriously, what the hell is up with this town and markets?

Taking a breath to calm herself so she doesn’t snap at the vendors and make things worse, Emma skips the rest of the booths in that row, heading to the next aisle over and hoping she’ll see some friendlier faces over there.

And, to her surprise, she spots one.

Standing at a fruit stand half-way down the aisle, examining boxes of peaches and nectarines with a furrowed brown, is Wes Newport. He’s dressed more casually today, his formal suits gone and replaced with dark jeans and a black sweater that makes his dark hair look even more striking. Like her, the owner of the fruit stand is eyeing him coldly and other passing customers take one look at him and then retreat to another stand with irritated expressions.

Well, at least they can be outcasts together.

“Newport!” Emma calls, moving towards him. “Hey, Wes!”

He glances up, and he smiles when he notices her. “Swan,” he calls back in greeting as Emma strides up to join him. “Nice to see you. What are you up to?”

She shakes her head with a small snort, slipping her hands into her back pockets as she comes to a stop in front of Newport. “Apparently coming to the market is a mandatory event when you live in Storybrooke.”

Newport chuckles at her sarcastic tone. “It is something of a big deal.”

“As I can tell.”

Emma steps in beside Newport, and she joins him in browsing through the rest of the aisle, leaving the fruit stand behind with no purchases when it became clear the owner was in no mood to even address him or Emma. The dirty looks continue as they go down the row, seeming to only increase now that the vendors see Emma and Newport together, but it’s somehow easier to ignore the dark glares with Newport at her side.

They walk nearly the length of two aisles, pausing here and there to browse, chatting pleasantly and laughing easily. The pause in front of one of the booths, which stands out significantly from the others. It’s gorgeous, the sign declaring it Game of Thorns, and the booth is overflowing with roses, daisies, violets, carnations, and other flowers Emma can’t even name, the fragrant and beautiful smell spreading delightfully throughout the surrounding area.

The owner of this booth is more pleasant than any of the others. “Sheriff, Mr. Newport. Glad to see you two here – can I interest you in any flowers this morning?”

He holds out a bouquet of white flowers to Emma, and Emma accepts it from him, so surprised at his warm tone compared to the rest of the market that she doesn’t think twice about taking the bouquet. She sniffs the flowers – sweet buttercups – but she’s hardly had the opportunity to enjoy them or pass them to Newport for a smell when a cold voice speaks from behind them.

“Glad to see you’re still in business, Mr. French. I wasn’t sure, as after all, I haven’t got this month’s rent yet.”

Emma pulls away from the buttercup, scowling, and Newport tenses beside her. Mr. Gold is standing opposite them, leaning on his cane with a serpentine smile, and staring at the man who’d given Emma the flowers.

He swallows deeply, beads of sweat beginning to dot his forehead. “My – my apologies, Mr. Gold. As – as I’ve told you, I’ve paid you what I can, but the markets are down to only once a month now and besides that –”

“That is not my concern,” Gold interrupts coldly, and Emma’s dislike of him escalates at the callous tone to his voice. “The only thing I care about is getting my rent on time, Mr. French, and on that you are sorely delayed.”

“Give the man a break, Gold,” Newport snaps, his hatred sharpening his voice into a cutting tone. “You heard him – he’s paid you what he can already.”

“Did I ask your opinion, Mr. Newport?” Gold asks coolly, finally sliding his eyes over to acknowledge their presence for the first time. He glances at Emma too, and the flowers in her hands, and he smirks, looking back to Newport and then her again. “What pretty flowers you have there, Ms. Swan. Buttercups, are they? They suit you.”

Emma narrows her eyes, and she sets the flowers down, resting her hands on her hips instead, shifting her weight so her badge gleams in the sunlight.

“Do we have a problem here, Gold?”

“Of course not, Sheriff. I was simply dropping by to remind Mr. French of his dues.”

“And he told you he’s paid you what he can,” Emma says flatly. “So perhaps the two of you can come to some sort of agreement in the meantime?”

French nods eagerly, but Gold just glares at them all. He doesn’t speak, but when it’s clear that neither Emma or Newport are leaving, his face twists angrily, and he spits out, “I have nothing to discuss with Mr. Newport here.”

Emma narrows her eyes and braces herself for a fight. She knows Newport well enough to know he’ll hate being spoken to by Gold like that, and he doesn’t disappoint.

“Fine,” he grounds out. “I’ll take my leave then. Good luck, Mr. French; you’ll need it with this slimy bastard.”

Emma winces as Gold’s face flushes with rage, but Newport turns on his heel before the pawnbroker can reply. He nods to Emma as he departs, and Emma turns to face Gold and French, crossing her arms over her chest. So much for her day off and fun morning at the market – back to keeping the peace it is.

Newport grinds his teeth together as he walks away from Emma, Gold, and Mr. French. He knows Emma is perfectly capable of handling things on her own, that he doesn’t doubt or question, but he’s furious at the mere presence of Gold.

He continues down the aisle, but doesn’t go too far, loitering by a jewellery stand several stands over to wait for Emma. The stand is chock full of silvery necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings. They’re mostly feminine designs, with jewelled pendants and heart-shaped lockets. His gaze falls on an outlying piece of jewellery at the edge of the table, and he peers at it, suddenly taken.

He’s not a jewellery man (a single pierced ear remains as a reminder of his once rebellious phase when he was a younger man), but there’s something about this necklace that makes his gaze linger over it. It’s got two charms, a skull and a sword, strung together on a thick silver chain. The necklace is obviously second hand, the charms worn and chipped in places, and he’s a bit surprised to see it amongst the rest of the pristine jewellery.

“Excuse me,” he says, and the attendant, a younger man with a pierced ear and a thick navy coloured cravat turns to him. “Can you tell me about this necklace?”

The man lumbers over, and nods as he takes in the necklace in Newport’s hand. “Ah, yeah. Looks a bit different than the rest, eh? I actually got it from Gold’s pawnshop.”

Newport’s hand curls into a fist at his side, blood boiling at the man’s name, but the vendor pays no notice.

“Nice, eh? Traded it in for a couple kerchiefs; thought it would add a little spice to the rest of the collection.” The man pauses for a second, eyeing Newport up and down, and says, a bit incredulously, “You interested in it?”

And Newport knows what the man is thinking – what does he, the orderly town treasurer want with a rather gothic and piratical-looking necklace? But something strange has come over him and he knows he cannot leave this booth without the necklace in his possession. Perhaps that it used to be Gold’s possession, but whatever it is, he has to have it.

“I’ll take it.”

The young man looks surprised for another brief moment, but nods quickly, clearly not willing to lose the sale by asking any more questions. He wraps the necklace up in tissue paper, slipping it in a velvet baggie while Newport fishes out his wallet.

“Thanks very much, Mr. Newport,” the man says, bestowing a small smile as Newport nods in turn. “Have a nice day.”

Newport slips the baggie into the back pocket of his jeans as he steps away, resisting the urge to pull out the necklace and slip it on over his head. Shaking his head, a bit unnerved at what’s come over him, he glances over to see how Emma’s getting on, trying to distract himself.

She’s standing with her back to him, hands on her hips, as Gold and French argue in front of her, and Newport can see her irritation in just her stance. His return to her side won’t be welcome now, and he turns back, eyes roving down the rest of the aisle to see where else he can waste some time, when his eyes fall on the beginnings of an altercation brewing down the row.

Mr. Casolare, the man who had strewn his papers about at the town hall meeting, and another local farmer named John Badger, are standing toe-to-toe in the centre of the row, both men’s hands clenched into fists at their sides.

Newport sighs at the sight, glancing behind him once more to Emma. He’d told her he was just there browsing and enjoying the day and, while that’s not a complete lie, there is more to it too. No matter that it’s the weekend, Newport’s duties as Regina’s employee are never done.

Regina never attends these community events herself – ‘peasants’ affairs’, she calls them – and while Sheriff Graham had often been her eyes and ears here, now that he’s gone, the task has fallen to Newport.

Her orders of ‘make sure everything stays civil’ echoes in his head at seeing Casolare and Badger arguing, and he sighs again. He’s not one for conflict – these days, at least – but he’s been sent here on a specific mission and there’s a form of steel in Regina’s words that make him step forward towards the two men.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

Casolare and Badger tear their eyes from each other to turn to him, and Casolare scowls immediately. Badger doesn’t look pleased either, but he at least doesn’t give Newport a death glare as he instantly starts speaking.

“Casolare here is accusing me of stealing his customers. Which is utterly ridiculous as –”

“It’s true, and you damn well know it,” Casolare snarls back. He looks away from Badger, his rage turning to Newport, and he steps towards him instead. “And, if this was any other day, any other market morning, I’d not care so much. But now because of you –” he jabs his finger angrily into Newport’s chest and a fiery rage erupts from that spot, shooting hotly through Newport’s blood like lightning – “I need all the sales I can get, and if Badger here keeps snatching up all the customers as they walk by just cause he’s closer to the entrance of the aisle, it’s not gonna happen and then –”

“It’s not my fault that my cherries are better than yours,” Badger retorts then, balling his hands into fists. “Yours are half-rotten already, look at them –”

That sets Casolare off, and he lunges forward at Badger with a roar of anger. Newport, with quick reflexes he wasn’t aware he had, jumps forward and grabs Casolare’s collar, stopping him from tackling Badger to the ground.

“Knock it off, Casolare,” he snaps, the hot rage sparked by Casolare’s shove to the chest starting to bubble over now. The feeling of such an unbridled fury coming upon him so quickly startles him, but it’s also a strangely familiar feeling, though one he feels like he hasn’t felt in eons.

“I damn well won’t knock it off –”

“Are you serious, Ron? You’re going to attack me?” Badger demands face white in fear, and he steps back, looking horrified. “Over cherries?”

Casolare snarls, face flushing with anger, and tries to lunge out at him again. Newport tugs him back once more, shoving him a bit further away from Badger.

“I said knock it off,” he growls. “Or you won’t be welcome at the next market. Mayor Mills doesn’t tolerate any sort of –”

Casolare laughs out loud then, spraying Newport’s face with cold spittle, and Newport falls silent in surprise.

“So that’s why you’re really here, eh, Newport? Mayor Mills can’t do her own dirty work? And now that Sheriff Humbert’s dead and the new sheriff won’t do it for her, you’re up?” He shakes his head, and spits onto the ground, barely missing Newport’s shoes. “I always knew you were nothing but her mindless slave.”

Slave.

The word seems to echo around Newport’s head, reverberating and growing louder, twisting into another man’s voice, a darker, crueller voice. A voice that shouts the word at him over and over, emerging as if from memories long buried. And suddenly the rage he’d been trying to quell overwhelms him, rushing through him and boiling his blood, and he snaps.

Casolare has turned back to Badger, arguing again and ignoring Newport totally, but he steps forward and shoves Casolare away from Badger. Casolare stumbles, caught completely off guard, and nearly topples right over as he yelps in surprise. Newport grabs hold of his shirt collar, yanking him upright and closer so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose.

“What the hell is wrong with –”

“You listen to me, Casolare,” Newport snarls, and his voice sounds foreign to even his own ears – rougher, angrier, darker. “I am no one’s slave. If you ever say such a thing to me again, or even think such a thing, you’re going to find out just how cruel I can be of my own accord.”

“Alright, alright, cool it,” Casolare chokes out, eyes widening in alarm. "I didn’t mean to get you so riled up, Newport, Jesus –”

And then, as suddenly as the anger had swelled up, it drains out of Newport in one fell swoop. It’s as if hearing his name has flipped a switch somewhere internally, locking that anger and rage back into whatever cage it’d been contained in, and he’s left cold and empty.

“Sorry,” he says, abruptly releasing Casolare, who stumbles away from him. “I don’t – I don’t know what came over me.”

Casolare just stares back at him, and Badger is lost for words now too. The two men look at each other, their own argument forgotten, and take off without another word towards their respective booths.

Newport watches them skedaddle only superficially; his thoughts are too muddled with shock to really process much else. That reaction he’d had to Casolare’s words … he doesn’t remember ever becoming so angry so quickly ever in his life, ever having felt such deep rage so furiously fast. It alarms him how quickly that anger had come up on him, how easy it had been to just give over to it and to let it course through him, to let it consume him.

Where the hell had that come from?

He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, and steps back into the main aisle of the market. Luckily, it seems that none of the other customers had noticed his altercation with the two farmers, or if they have, they’ve looked away again, back to pretending he doesn’t exist.

He’s so out of sorts, staring at the end of the row stand with knit tea cozies on every possible surface and not even seeing them, that he doesn’t even notice when Emma comes up to stand beside him.

“You okay there, Wes?” she asks, her voice curious and cautious. Her business with Gold and French is clearly over, the men nowhere in sight, and her attention is fully on him, eyebrow raised and a peculiar expression on her face.

“Aye,” he says, a moment too late. “I’m fine. Um, how – how did you end up? With Gold and French?”

She narrows her eyes at him, and he knows his attempt to change the subject hasn’t fooled her for a moment. “Oh fine. I think we figured something out, though I think Gold left more pissed than when he got there.” She tilts her head at him. “And you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Not a ghost, he thinks grimly. More like a demon, and more like he saw it within himself.

“No, no. I just ...” he hesitates, not sure how to explain what came over him. “Well, there was some trouble with two of the farmers. They were arguing about customers, and then saw me and got annoyed with the budget cuts, and I lost my temper with them.”

Emma frowns, clearly surprised. “Really?”

He hesitates again, and then shakes his head. “Yeah. I don’t know why. One second Casolare was just talking and then –”

“Casolare?” Emma interrupts, and her eyes immediately search for the man in question over Newport’s shoulder. He looks too, seeing the man fuming at his stand and pointedly not looking anywhere near them. When Newport looks back to Emma, her eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched into a dark scowl. “The man from Town Hall? The one who knocked those papers over?”

He sees easily that Emma’s misread what happened, that somehow Casolare antagonized him like he’d done at Town Hall and that’s why he got angry. And sure, that’s true on a surface level, but Newport himself is the one at fault here. He’s the one who overreacted, who acted like a raging monster. Not Casolare.

But he doesn’t answer, doesn’t correct Emma’s thought, before she’s speaking again, straightening and dropping her hands to her hips.

“This is ridiculous. If you think there will be trouble next time there’s one of these markets, I can come to the next one in uniform. First Gold and French, and now this. This is getting out of hand.”

Newport is hardly listening to her, and it’s not until Emma taps him on the arm that he breaks out of it. She’s frowning at him, and he can tell she must’ve asked him something, something he has no idea about.

“Pardon me?”

Her frown deepens, and she doesn’t remove her hand from his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay, Wes?”

“Yes,” he answers. At her unconvinced expression, he adds, “I’m fine, really.”

Emma nods after a moment, though her brows are still knitted together, and she removes her hand from his arm.

“Okay.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence, their ease of the morning fading as the silence continues. Newport can’t think of what to say, to bring back their earlier camaraderie, feeling rather like he just wants to leave the market, to return to the safety of his flat and figure out what the hell came over him.

His intentions must be easy to read because Emma sighs then, and looks away, rubbing her arms. “Well, I better go find Mary Margaret and make sure she’s doing okay,” she says, and her eyes flicker back to him, a tiny lilt of hopefulness in her tone in her next words. “I guess ... I guess I’ll see you around?”

He nods, and smiles. “Of course, Swan. It was – it was very nice to see you this morning, even amidst all the ... tension.”

She smiles back in return, and then with a wave and another smile, Emma turns and disappears into the crowd with the rest of Storybrooke, and Newport’s alone. Though he’s been lonely for as long as he can remember, somehow, watching Emma walk away makes him feel its sharp hollowness as if he never felt it before and it’s all he can do to scurry away home instead of just running right after her.

That night, Newport falls into bed still fully dressed. He’d gone into the office after returning home to an empty apartment and loud thoughts, with suddenly no desire to face either. Work had calmed him down, but the sudden rage from the market has spooked him and it lingers at the back of his mind, lurking and prowling.

Luckily doing some work also exhausted him, and by the time he had trudged home, he was so tired, he didn’t even bother changing, asleep on the covers before his head had barely hit the pillow.

Dreams overtake him immediately. They’re restless, occupied mostly by a sneering man named Silver, who screams at him for his slow work, laughs at him for being a drunk, mocks his inability to hold onto any of his money, taunts him with his lack of freedom.

He senses that he’s younger in the dream, not more than a teenager, and in that state, it’s hard to restrain the tears of fury and pain in his eyes at the cruel treatment. He cowers from Silver, feeling afraid of what’s to come, and it’s when the man reaches out to strike him that Newport finally wakes from the dream, awake like a bolt of lightning before the man gets a chance to touch him.

His apartment is quiet in the early hours of the morning, calm and restful. Newport can hear his heartbeat loudly in his ears, and he shakes his head, trying to clear the dream.

A slow worker, a drunk, a gambler ... none of the things that Newport is.

But why had it felt so familiar?

Fair enough, there had been some issue with alcohol in the past, but that was long ago. But Newport has always prided himself on his quick work and, hell, Regina made him treasurer because of how good he is with money. Gambling, laziness, an alcoholic ... they aren’t words he’d used to describe himself, but they settle eerily in his mind, far too familiar.

He shudders, and throws the covers off himself, trying to force away the lingering unease. His clothes are uncomfortable now after hours of sleeping, and he rises to change, flicking on the side lamp as he goes. As he tosses his jeans onto a chair, the pirate necklace he’d already forgotten about tumbles out onto the soft rug, spilling out of its little pouch and gleaming in the dim light.

Goosebumps raise on the back of his neck as he picks it up, the metal cold in his hand. The uneasiness returns, the necklace feeling as familiar as the strange dream had. Spooked, he clenches the necklace into his fist and opens the bedside dresser drawer, tossing it inside. He stares at it for a moment, the skull and sword gleaming, and he slams the drawer shut, unnerved once again.

#cs ff #captain swan #ouat #cs mc ff #from the sea #hope you like it :)#i had fun writing this chapter #getting some of Killian's POV in the story now too!#cs fic

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

Text

The Great Ex-Aid Rewatch: Ex-Aid & Ghost, Part Two

Okay, back to it for part two of who-know-how-many of my Dr. Pac-Man liveblog!

Time for more gamers, doctors, ghosts, and terrible examples of science that people should in no way, shape, or form try to emulate!

––– –––

When last we saw our doctor heroes, they were escaping from Dr. Pac-Man with the victim-of-the-week, and the Ghost team was coming to their aid, leaving Shinnosuke back at the precinct.

We pick back up with Emu, Asuna, and Tougo running, but being blocked from one direction by Doral and Giril, and a still very glitchy Dr. Pac-Man on the other.

Turns out, the Pac-viruses aren’t technically bugsters at all – they’re just… er. Viruses, I guess, that Dr. Pac-Man used to set up a virus detection program. Specifically, to track the Bugster Virus, so that he could hunt down Tougo, who’s a carrier of a new strain.

Wait, so, the fevers that are hitting the people throughout the city aren’t the game disease, then? Or are there more forms to it than the bugster virus? …I may have to go into this in my fics at some point, but not now.

But anyway, it’s a new strain, one that comes from Hatesate Puzzle, so naturally the GenmCorp systems wouldn’t have any information on it – it’s not one of their products, so there’s no reason to expect it to spawn a bugster of it’s own.

Takeru, Akari, and Onari show up, with Takeru accusing Dr. Pac-Man of being Zaizen Michihiko. Fortunately for all of us, he is, and admits such as soon as Takeru brings it up. This means I no longer have to type ‘Dr. Pac-Man’ nearly as often, and we don’t have to deal with his squeaky voice changer anymore.

That thing was obnoxious.

Zaizen, who should have died six years ago, has managed – somehow – to revive as a Bugster. Which, as we know now, is foreshadowing for what happens down the line in-show. (Actually, this might be where Kuroto got that particular plan from in the first place.) He’s come back to finish his plans from back then.

He and his ‘team’ were working on a ‘genome project’, to create a new life form via operating on a patient infected with the game disease. A project to create a bugster.

But things went wrong.

Something happened, and we see the ‘patient’ – his face tactfully hidden by scenery the entire time – bucking on the table, the four ‘doctors’ drawing back in surprise. As a swarm of orange lights emerges from him and form into the shape of a person, lines of light form a game area around the room, while the four ‘doctors’ are dissolved into fragments of data.

And now? Now they’re back from being banished to the shadow realm game world, and ready to fulfill their ‘master plan.’

Emu – sweet, blissfully unaware, ten-episodes-in Emu – says that he may not know anything about this so-called master plan, but to use Pac-Man for this, to endanger all of these people… how can they call themselves doctors?! Doctors are supposed to help people!

Zaizen declares that anyone who stands against him must die, and Hatena – the latest Bugster – summons a massive number of enormous falling blocks. That would be bad enough, since said blocks are approximately person sized, and could easily crush someone.

Except that Hatesate Puzzle is a match three puzzle game. When three blocks of the same color line up? They explode.

Makoto and Alain show up from… somewhere, just in time to see Takeru make a dive to cover Akari with his body to protect her from another wave of blocks.

They are both caught up in the explosions. When the smoke clears, Takeru manages to wake Akari up, barely.

They both start to turn transparent, bursts of static crackling across them, at which point Akari passes back out.

Takeru, having had some very traumatic experiences with being transparent, makes the very natural assumption that they’ve both just died.

Fortunately, Emu is there, and able to yell that no, no, you’re not dead, that’s the bugster virus, please calm down!

Well, they’re not dead yet, according to Hatena, who says that unless someone manages to defeat him in the next 24 hours, they’re done for. This, naturally, pisses Makoto and Alain the hell off, and they go on the offensive.

I love civilian outfit fights, because you can get more of a sense of how the characters really move. I hold to the theory that putting on Rider armor, in any series, enhances the wearers usual abilities, so while you can see how they fight, you can get a far more accurate idea of it when they fight out of suit.

Against Giril, for all that the first part of the fight is more of a dance between her, Makoto, and Alain, you can tell that they’re skilled at this – that they’ve been through battles. They do eventually wind up getting hit – her fighting style is very different from the ones they’re used to facing, and Alain in particular takes some nasty palm strikes and kicks to the chest, but they’re still putting up a good show. (Especially for a pair who lost the majority of their effectiveness in battle once they joined up with Takeru, but that’s a complaint for a whole different season.)

On the other hand, Emu’s fight against Doral can barely be called a fight. He’s getting beaten, badly. Doral barely has to move to dodge Emu’s punches, and when they do connect, he doesn’t even flinch, moving with the punch to soften what little damage there would be.

Emu takes numerous blows to the torso, and I’m pretty sure at one point he just barely avoided a groin shot. He does manage a sweet flip and a roll, but it looks to have been accidental, given he then very quickly gets thrown several meters through the air.

Compare this to his first fight in-show, when he’d just gotten the belt, and had no idea what he was even getting into. In level one, he didn’t take a single hit from the Bugster Union, and when he fought Salty directly, he got hit maybe two or three times, but no more than that, and they didn’t effect him at all.

Early Emu has no idea what he’s doing in a fight, without actively being Ex-Aid.

Onari and Asuna carry Akari off to the hospital, escaping, while Makoto and Alain manage to literally hold Giril back, telling Takeru to ‘take care’ of Hatena.

Takeru’s punches do nothing, aside from make his knuckles hurt, and make Hatena chuckle. CHUCKLE. Not even LAUGH, just a quiet chuckle.

Emu gets grabbed, and Doral is trying to choke him out, when freaking Tougo – who is, admittedly, in a bit of a bad way, seeing how he’s rather see-through at the moment – yells at Emu. He’s a doctor, right?! Then why isn’t he saving him?!

You know, never mind that you said it was pointless earlier, or that Emu’s getting his ass kicked and currently is having a bit of trouble breathing, just go ahead and guilt trip him. That’s totally a way to make people like you.

Oh, and then Zaizen tells this asshole that nobody can save him, and pulls Tougo into a bugvisor. Because that totally makes sense.

All four riders present – Emu, Takeru, Alain, and Makoto – get hurled down by their respective opponents, Emu internally apologizing to Tougo. Doral advances on Emu…

And is met with a spin-kick to the face.

Kiriya, Hiiro, and Taiga have arrived. Here’s their basic reactions to the scene:

Kiriya: More research data! Yes! (Also, time to save the Ace, because he’s the only person in this show who has even remotely tried to be a decent person, and was the only one who bothered trying to trust me.)

Taiga: Okay, shows over, freaks. (Why do people keep using Protogashats?! Are they all just stupid?!)

Hiiro: You look pathetic, intern. Also, here’s the new Legend Rider Gashat, the CEO wanted you to have it, for some reason.

Doral’s all ‘oh, so you want to fight, do you?’, and he and Giril pull out their gashats. Kiriya gives a sarcastic whistle, before Makoto and Alain shove their way in front, saying that this is their fight. I mean, it’s not, technically, but I get their reasoning. Also, Makoto literally shoved Hiiro to the side, and Hiiro takes a moment to come back to facing front, looking incredibly offended. Kiriya tries to point out to them that they’re already pretty beat up, and maybe they should take a back seat for a bit, but let if never be said that Makoto and Alain are anything but stubborn.

Giril takes off one way, Makoto and Hiiro in pursuit, while Doral goes the other, with Alain, Taiga, and Kiriya chasing after. Emu is still on the floor, slightly dazed, and presumably very confused.

–––

Hiiro and Makoto Vs Giril.

Makoto’s fighting style here is very… I dunno, like he’s a brawler? I guess? It’s not really refined, there’s a sort of brutality there. He uses the mooks momentum a lot, at one point pulling one of those ‘roll with the grab and use it to do a spin kick while on the mooks back’ tricks.

Hiiro, meanwhile, is quick and efficient, focusing on disabling mooks by going for the torso. Once again, he’s weaponizing CPR, just like when he originally used Doremifa Beat. At one point, he actually just flat out does a chop to the back of one mooks neck, which I find hilarious coming from Hiiro, of all people.

Eventually, Giril transforms, and Makoto hastily follows suit. Heh, suit. Because they’re transforming heroes. Hiiro, who saw full well that Specter isn’t exactly in prime condition, tries to tell him to wait, and heads into level two to join the fight.

–––

Taiga, Kiriya, and Alain vs Doral.

Taiga and Alain’s fight styles aren’t too different, outside of suit. They both favor quick blows that are still slightly showy. The main difference is that Alain’s more willing to rely on both his arms and legs for attacks, while Taiga’s more likely to dodge attacks. Kiriya… may as well be street dancing. Like, there’s a lot of streetdance type moves going on there.

…Dark Toei, give me the forbidden streetdancer Kiriya lore.

Eventually, Alain starts getting into a slightly more berserker style, Kiriya is getting somehow even flashier, and Taiga…

Taiga stole the sword off of one of the mooks.

…SWEET.

Doral transforms, and Alain angrily follows… and immediately starts doing worse. Seriously, the Necrom suit is a definite hindrance for Alain. He was great when he was in civilian attire – because he could move. Loose fitting clothes are far better suited for his personal style than the tight, controlled movements he has to use as Necrom. I mean, he really shouldn’t keep the scarf on in battle, but it doesn’t seem to slow him down, so I guess it’s okay.

Taiga looks a little disappointed that Alain just rushed in there like that, and once again it’s Kiriya who says that he’s getting ahead of himself.

The two of them transform, and Taiga visibly enters level two, doing a sweet flip over a fire projectile before getting into the battle. Kiriya says he’s leveling up, but we don’t actually see it, or him.

–––

Takeru vs Hatena.

This fight is not going nearly so well as the others. Takeru is getting shoved around like a ragdoll by Hatena and his staff, but still struggling back up, despite the copious pain he’s in, because he’s going to save Akari, dangit!

Emu’s still down on the floor, just barely getting around to picking himself back up in order to stop Takeru from advancing.

Zaizen says that all these struggles are useless. Without Ghost’s power, they can’t possibly beat Pac-Man, and he’s going to make them fear just how powerless they are!

He then proceeds to fire his bugvisor into the air, a massive swarm of Pac-viruses emerging from it… and then they all form into a GIANT PAC-MAN. The version with arms and legs, no less, before it pulls those into itself and becomes the more classic Orb Pac-Man.

Then it sort of… shudders, and glows a bit red, and oh look, everyone, Pac-Man’s got a mouth of fangs now!

Wisely, Takeru and Emu realize that being faced with a two-or-three story Pac-Man, who is clearly intent on eating them, is the point where they should be running away.

–––

Pac-Man chases them outside. They manage to avoid his barreling into them, but also he takes a bite out of a building, so there’s that. They’ve both fallen from their dodge.

Takeru pushes himself back to his feet, struggling to walk forward to fight.

Emu tries to hold him back, because it’s too dangerous, he’s too hurt, if he tries to fight like this, he could die-

Takeru shoves him off, saying it doesn’t matter if he can still transform or not. Yes, he doesn’t want to die, but if he can save Akari, then that is far more important. He’s going to do this. He has to do this!

Ghost’s powers are intimately linked to Takeru’s emotional state. They always have been, as far back as his first episode. His resolve summons the Ore Eyecon back to him from Dan Kuroto’s desk (because of course he didn’t give that to Hiiro to bring back), and the Ghost Driver reappears around Takeru’s waist.

(The, uh, the handle on that thing’s looking a little worse for wear. You guys couldn’t have, I dunno, wiped it down or something? Given it a little touch up?)

“HENSHIN!”

:cue fangirl grin:

Takeru gets to fly again! In base form, no less! …You know, outside of the first episode, and his guest previews in Drive, I don’t think Takeru actually got to use his levitation in his base mode more than maybe once or twice until after his season. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even get to do it in his own movies, outside of the finishing blow to the giant Ganma from the Ghost & Drive film. I don’t recall him levitating at all during Ichighost. If he used that power outside of the final battle in 100 Eyecons, I don’t remember it, and I know that time it was in Infinite.

Basically, I’m in the ‘Let Takeru Use His Powers’ camp. Also, I’m thinking that this might be where he basically… re-unlocked that for his base form? I dunno, just a thought that I might use in ReUnited, might not. Hard to say.

Anyway, Ghost! He’s flying around, kicking Angry Emoji Pac-Man while dodging storms of Pac-Viruses. Emu, in the meantime, is having a slight crisis of personal faith. He’s been getting his ass handed to him all day, even more so than usual, with people berating him left and right for not being good enough at his job – as a doctor or as a Kamen Rider.

Screaming to the sky, he somehow finds his resolve. Pulling out the Kaigan Ghost gashat, a breeze blows his hair back, and he transforms.

…Okay, yes, it’s a level ONE form right now, but he still gets to fight in-air with Takeru, both of them with that cool orange glow effect, so it’s worth it!

–––

At the Next Genome Hideout, Zaizen and Hatena arrive just in time for… Uh. What was his name again? Ah, there we go. Kuruse Soji, also known as the Robol Bugster. For consistencies sake with the rest of his group, I will be referring to him as Robol from here on.

So, those two arrive just in time for Robol to finish the… I don’t even know what it is, some sort of genome re-mapping design.

Hatena is the one to ask Zaizen “Hey, are you sure about this whole ‘using yourself as a lab rat’ thing? You’re putting your life on the line, here.”

But nope, Zaizen’s determined to carry out his plan, and he’s fully intent on becoming a life form ‘to surpass creation.’

Hatena’s response is basically a silent “Well, okay then, it’s your funeral,” before raising his reality-warping staff up, and starting what is basically a reprogramming process on Zaizen.

Additionally, Zaizen seems to very quickly have at least a few regrets with regards to his haste, or at least didn’t think Hatena was going to just go ahead and start immediately. Having ones genetic structure re-written is not exactly painless.

The thing is… I don’t know what Zaizen doing this to himself would prove for any sort of proof of concept. We find out later on that his plan is to do this all over, and yeah, most people won’t survive, but the ones who do will be stronger for it. Which is all standard mad scientist stuff. However, he’s already a Bugster. He’s said as much, so his base makeup isn’t the same anymore. He has no way to prove this will actually work on a normal human! I mean, yeah, he’s trying it on Tougo simultaneously, albeit a little differently, but Tougo’s infected with the bugster virus already, so there’s good odds that the alterations are working with that more than anything else.

Basically, Zaizen, you’re a terrible excuse for a doctor and a scientist, and you should be ashamed of yourself for so many different reasons.

–––

Back at the Giril fight, Makoto uses all three of his regular Legend Eyecons to try and take her down, and even at one point using Houdini’s chains as whips! It gets to a point where we have Specter with Nobunaga preparing a finisher, and Giril sending energy slashes at him, only for Brave to use the ice mode of his sword to freeze the attacks in place so that Makoto can shoot through them.

Seriously, Hiiro, why can’t you use tactics this cleverly more often in show? It’d have gone a long way toward making me like at least watching you fight, even though it wouldn’t do anything for you as a character. The only times I can think of that were anything like this were the few occasions you used the sword to make an ice path to hold enemies still, your first time using Doremifa beat, and the way you got Taddle Fantasy by basically emulating some of Emu’s tactics, in using the energy items to your advantage.

But I digress. The two Riders switch into Deep Specter and Doremifa Beat to try and finish the fight.

–––

Brief cut to the Doral fight, where everyone is still in base forms, until Necrom gets knocked down and swaps into Grimm. I am reminded of why I would vastly prefer him to be using an eyecon at all times, because the helmet for Necrom is AWFUL without a cover.

Lazer and Snipe are still in level one and two respectively.

–––

Back to Giril.

Everyone launches finishers, starting with Specter, who doesn’t have much effect, but knocks her back a bit. Brave and Giril launch simultaneous ones, which create a huge chain reaction explosion that results in all three participants getting kicked out of their transformations.

Giril is still okay enough to run away.

Hiiro and Makoto are struggling on the ground. Makoto tries to get up to give chase, but collapses. Hiiro, in not much better state, tries to wake him.

–––

Back to Doral.

Necrom is using Sanzo for a bit, before getting dropped back down to normal. Okay, so, I may hate the transitional phase of Necrom, but it’s not fair to Alain for him to go the whole series without an upgrade. It’s even less fair for him to finally get one after the show… in the Specter V-Cinema. At which point he gets his ass kicked. By Specter. To make matters even more devastating? The single upgrade Alain gets is called Yujou Burst. FRIENDSHIP BURST. It’s ugly as all get out, and he only uses it in a single scene, in which, as mentioned earlier, he gets his ass kicked by Makoto. And you can’t even really see it in that scene, because it was so dark, which was not helped by Yujou Burst being black and gold.

ALAIN DESERVED BETTER, IS ALL I’M SAYING.

Okay, okay, lost potential complaints aside, the fight scene. Lazer and Snipe both enter level three, and I’m fairly certain Kiriya curses the day he blackmailed his way into getting a Driver, because he still has to go through the bike form anyway to get to higher levels.

Necrom and Lazer launch their finishers – Necrom with an energy punch projectile, and Lazer with that gloriously massive rain of arrows. This is followed by Snipe’s finisher, which involves a jetpack and LOTS OF BULLETS.

Man, if Jet Combat weren’t so hideous, I’d probably love it.

Doral gets knocked out of his transformation, and runs off. Necrom and Lazer drop theirs willingly, at which point Alain apologizes to Takeru, and drops to the ground, out cold.

Taiga lands. Specifically, TAIGA lands, dropping his transformation MID DESCENT and landing in a three point touchdown. He sneers, saying that Alain’s an idiot who over did it.

Well, at least the three of you came out of your transformations on your own, unlike the actual secondaries of the two seasons, who both got knocked down.

I mean, I really didn’t expect to find more evidence that Hiiro’s not nearly as good at this Rider thing as he thinks he is, but it sure looks like I did!

–––

Okay, over at the FIRST main fight, with Ex-Aid and Ghost versus a literally two story tall Pac-Man, two lads in black and orange land.

Ghost pulls out the Ex-Aid Eyecon, and we get an incredibly chaotic shot of Takeru entering Ex-Aid Damashi, and Ex-Aid leveling up his Ghost form.

Hnnnn I don’t like either of these legend rider forms. I think it’s in the eyes. Takeru winds up with Ex-Aid’s eyes on his faceplate, which makes sense, because that’s what his Legend Rider forms do. He gets their helmet’s appearance on his. It’s just weird with Ex-Aid’s eyes, is all. I’ll give credit to the jacket for being way better than his one for Drive, though.

The Ex-Aid Legend Rider forms, though… are so incredibly cursed. His chestplate takes on the appearance of whatever’s there on the OG rider, which. Okay, fair. I went to go look at his form for Drive, and the tire just Does Not Translate well to 2d. But the real problem is the helmet.

See, I’m okay with the helmets in Ex-Aid. I don’t care about the anime eye aesthetic, I’m all for it, because they manage to make something this ridiculous look good. Right up until that’s not what’s there anymore.

The helmet takes on an appearance similar to a slimmed down version of the legend rider, which I would be fine with… if it didn’t keep the frames from around Ex-Aid’s eyes. It’s unsettling, and invariably cuts across the eyes of the helmet it’s imitating, which just makes the whole thing uncomfortable.

And, of course, he still has the duplicate faceplate on his back, which makes it really weird when he’s facing away from the camera in the upcoming scenes, because we’re still getting Ghost looking at us. I don’t know why it doesn’t bug me nearly this much with Regular Ex-Aid, but this is really unsettling with a different rider’s helmet.

–––

Okay, okay, sorry, back to the show.

Emu’s gotten Ghost’s ability to levitate, and Takeru’s picked up Ex-Aid’s jumps. So they’re still able to bounce around Pac-Man, but they aren’t both flying anymore.

And then he eats them.

Like, I’m not even kidding, Pac-Man opens his mouth, they get pulled in, and WHOOPS suddenly they’re falling toward a suspiciously familiar maze!

Oh, man, I wish I were better at screencapping, but this goes by too fast for me to catch it. When they land? Takeru has a color-burst effect right out of one of Ex-Aid’s special effects. Nice touch!

Oh, and the walls of the maze, along with the dots, are an appropriate size for a two story tall Pac-Man. So, you know, the lads are a bit dwarfed by the scenery.

If you look carefully, you can see that when Pac-Man’s chasing them through the maze, the dots he passes by aren’t there anymore! He’s still actually playing by his own rules! … right up until they jump out of his way when they’re backed against a wall, and he just plows on through.

(Pac-Man, noooo! You can’t do that! That’s illegal!)

So they just start trying to slash at Pac-Man amid the rubble from the wall he just broke through – and then he starts shooting out beams of light every which way?

I don’t remember that being part of the game…

While they’re jumping and dodging, Emu’s still got Ghost’s glowing effects, and Takeru still has Ex-Aid’s impact stars, so that’s cool. They do that neat cross slash, where one rider goes horizontally around the Giant Kaijin and the other goes vertically… and it’s still not the finisher.

Emu, sweet, game-loving Emu, tells Pac-Man that it’ll just be a little longer. (Emu, he’s currently trying to KILL YOU. You don’t even know if the Regular Pac-Man is IN THERE, for all you know this is just an evil duplicate!)

So, actual finisher time.

Interestingly, the visual flairs when Emu puts the Kaigan Ghost gashat into his finisher slot and pushes the button are all orange. Nice touch. Even nicer is the touches on the emblem that appears behind Takeru when he does his finishers. Usually it’s a glowing orange, or rainbow, in the case of Infinite. But this time it’s pixellated and pink.

(please ignore the awful neon blue lines in the background, those are part of the maze.)

I’d say that “lasers don’t chase people like that” and “jumping doesn’t let you curve in mid-air”, but I don’t think the laws of physics actually apply to these two in most battle circumstances. Also, they’re about to kick Pac-Man in the face because that’s just what we’re doing today, I guess!

They land back out in the real world, where Pac-Man slowly changes back to normal.

(THE BACKS OF THESE SUITS ARE SO CURSED)

Pac-Man dissolves into the air.

Takeru, sweet precious cinnamon roll that he is, is still only thinking of saving Akari.

“I have… to save Akari…”

He falls to the ground, out cold.

–––

Asuna and Onari make it to the hospital, with him carrying the unconicious Akari, to see specks of yellow light streaming down to the infected patients.

Asuna thanks Pac-Man for curing those who were hit by his strain of the Game Disease.

–––

On a nearby rooftop, music from 2012 plays as a man with rings steps into view.

––– –––

Well, that seems like as good a place as any to cut off, narratively speaking! I’m about halfway through the movie at this point, so this should only take one or two more installments to finish.

I have work the next three nights, so I’m not going to be able to pick this back up until Saturday, at the earliest. It sucks, because I really, really wanted to watch this movie again, preferably a lot faster than this whole “three to four hours to get twenty five minutes” deal, but I guess that’s just how I’m watching Ex-Aid, now!

(Disclaimer before anyone gets on my case: Yes, I switched order of those last two segments. Partly it’s to have a better liveblog ending, and partly because that’s the order they should have been in, dang it! It flows way better to have the Pac-Man Fever subplot end before Haruto first shows up, instead of awkwardly inserting him between the last two related scenes.)

#kamen rider ex aid #kamen rider ghost #sailorcressy says

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a-corndog-named-schibbs · 6 years

Text

Operation Beach Day

It’s the dead of winter where I am, so here’s my take on a Voltron beach episode.

Canon compliant up to season 6. Kind of an au where the crew return to earth, but rather than having to deal with a big mess, they get to relax a bit when they get there.

Enjoy!

“Almost there, guys,” says Lance, making a final turn onto a side road.

“Still not gonna tell us where we’re going?” says Keith.

“It’s a surprise,” says Lance, “Don’t worry, guys, you’ll love it.”

All his friends are piled into the old family van with him. Shiro’s in the navigator’s seat next to him, Keith, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran, Krolia, and Romelle all squished into the back rows. Technically, this van wasn’t meant to carry this many people, so Pidge is currently sprawled out over Hunk and Keith’s laps while Lance tries his best to drive carefully and not hit the brakes too hard. Even Kosmo is in the trunk, turning circles and whining nervously at the new sensation of being in a moving car. Every once in a while, Krolia will reach back and give him some reassuring head scratches.

Finally, Lance pulls into a small parking lot, “We’re here!”

Everyone presses their faces against the windows and stares at the soft white sand and immaculate blue water that awaits them.

“It’s a beach!” says Hunk, his face lighting up, “I haven’t been to a beach in forever!”

Lance grins, “I told you you’d love it.”

“Uh, Lance?” says Shiro, “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“Don’t worry, I brought extras for everybody. And sunscreen too, Pidge, don’t panic. Now, everybody out! Operation Beach Day begins now!”

“How the hell is this place not crawling with tourists?” Keith asks as they all climb out of the van.

“It’s a private beach,” says Lance, grabbing bags from the backseat, “My parents know the owner, he’s always been chill about letting us use it. We just have to not blast obnoxious music or leave a bunch of trash or anything like that.”

There are small changing booths near the parking lot and everyone claims one to get dressed in, some pulling out swimsuits from their own bags and the rest going to Lance for an extra one.

At one point, Lance taps Allura on the shoulder just before she goes into one of the changing booths.

“Princess, I got something for you. A little gift to celebrate your first time at an Earth beach.” He holds up a pair of black swim bottoms.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, Lance, but I already have a bathing suit.” Allura holds up the pink two-piece swimsuit she thankfully remembered to pack.

“Don’t worry, they’re not for you to wear. Hey, Shiro!” Lance says, louder this time, “Did you say you needed an extra swimsuit?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks, Lance!” says Shiro, catching the suit as Lance tosses it and stepping into his own changing booth.

Soon, everyone is milling around on the sand, admiring each other’s swimsuits. Everyone except Shiro, who hasn’t left his changing booth yet.

“You okay in there, Shiro?” says Keith, knocking on the booth door.

“Just having a little trouble getting my suit on,” says Shiro, “Lance, I think you got me the wrong size.”

Lance suppresses a laugh, “No, they’re supposed to be like that.”

Shiro opens the door, clad only in a black speedo.

“Oh!” says Allura, unabashedly admiring her boyfriend’s toned physique.

“Enjoying your gift, Allura?” says Lance, grinning.

Allura grins back, “It’s the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received.”

Finding a place to set out their beach towels and umbrellas isn’t too hard considering they’ve got the beach to themselves. Lance is practically bouncing with energy the whole time, eager to get into the water.

“Come on,” he says, waving to the others, “Everybody in!”

Hunk is also ready to burst with excitement, “Yes! I’m so ready for this!”

Pidge crosses her arms, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Wrong answer, Pidge,” says Hunk. He scoops her up easily in his arms, “Come on, this way to the water!”

“No!” Pidge shrieks, suddenly panicked, trying to squirm out of Hunk’s grip.

Hunk stops, surprised, immediately setting Pidge back on her feet. “You okay?”

Pidge scowls at the ground, cheeks red with embarrassment. I don’t know how to swim,” she mumbles, “I don’t want to fucking drown.”

“Aww, Pidge…” says Hunk, putting an arm around her, “Lance and I have both been swimming since we could walk. We’re not gonna let you drown.”

Lance nods, putting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder, “We’ll stay in the shallow water the whole time. And hey, maybe we can even teach you how to swim!”

“Right, and if you don’t like it, we’ll come right back to the beach. Sound good?” says Hunk.

Pidge nods, hesitantly, “Yeah, I think that’d be all right.”

“Sweet!” says Lance, “Keith, you coming in too?”

“Sure,” says Keith. He turns to Krolia, “Mom, do you want to swim with us?”

Krolia shoots him a look over the tops of her sunglasses, “And get my fur wet? No thank you. Besides,” she holds up a paperback book, “I’ve got some Earth literature to entertain me.”

The book has the title Ranch of Romance written on the cover in a flouncy font and features a rugged man in a cowboy outfit, his flannel shirt almost completely unbuttoned, holding a swooning woman in his arms, her dress dangerously close to slipping off.

Keith’s entire face goes red, “Uh…okay, Mom. Coran, what about you?”

Coran’s currently dressed in an old-fashioned striped one-piece bathing suit and holding a sand pail, “Oh, I think I’ll pass, my boy. I’ve been meaning to try my hand at building one of those sand castles you Earthlings sometimes talk about. I figure if my grandfather can build the Castle of Lions, I can surely build its miniature in sand form.”

“Suit yourself,” says Lance, “Come on, Keith, let’s see if Hunk and Pidge want to have a chicken fight.”

Over the course of the next hour or so, Lance and Hunk attempt to teach Pidge how to swim, first getting her used to having her face in the water, then trying to teach her how to float. It’s not easy, her skinny frame making it hard to stay buoyant, but eventually, she can manage a doggy paddle with relative ease.

Once she’s comfortable in the water, Keith suggests pairing off for a chicken fight. They start out Arms vs. Legs, with Pidge on Keith’s shoulders and Lance on Hunk’s. Team Arms wins, but only because Hunk stepped on a shell and lost his balance (at least, that’s what Team Legs insists happened). Then, they switch to Left Side vs. Right Side. Right Side wins that time, though it’s a hollow victory for Lance, since Keith’s strategy seems to be to use him as an actual lance. Eventually, the game devolves into a four-way splash fight.

“Hey, guys,” Shiro calls from the shore, causing the four paladins to cease splashing for a moment, “Anyone up for a volleyball game? I think I found a net.”

Once the others have waded back out of the water and toweled off, they all gather around the volleyball net Shiro found, joined by Allura and Romelle, who have been enjoying some sunbathing. Romelle, especially, is looking quite a bit pinker than normal and Lance makes a mental note to remind her to reapply her sunscreen later.

“So,” says Shiro, “How should we divide into teams?”

“Boys vs. girls!” Lance says quickly.

“No fair!” Pidge protests, “There’s more of you!”

“No duh, Pigeon, why do you think I suggested it?”

“We should have one of you join our team then,” Romelle points out.

“Yeah! We deserve a fourth honorary girl on the team!” says Pidge.

“Fine, fine,” says Lance, “I’ll let you have it. Pick an honorary girl.”

Pidge’s grin is downright devious, “We want Shiro.”

“Pick another honorary girl.”

“You never said any of your teammates were off-limits,” says Allura, as precise as any lawyer, “If you didn’t want us to choose Shiro, you should have said something before hand.”

Lance crosses his arms, “Well, maybe Shiro doesn’t want to be an honorary girl.”

But Shiro merely shrugs, good-naturedly, “I don’t mind, really.” He ducks under the net and joins the girls’ side.

“Oh, no,” Keith groans, “We’re so screwed now. Lance, you’ve screwed us.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Shiro’s a monster at volleyball. He’s gonna wipe the floor with all of us.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and grins, “Stop trying to scare them, Keith.”

Keith turns and glares at him, “Shiro remember when they had that volleyball tournament at the Garrison and you spiked the ball directly at some guy’s head and he went to the hospital for a concussion? ‘Cause I do. It’s actually a very vivid memory for me.”

Shiro shrugs, “What’s a game without a little risk? Now are you gonna serve or what?”

In the end, the girls’ team wins soundly. Pidge and Romelle might not be athletically inclined, but Shiro and Allura very much are, and competitive to boot. Keith puts forth a valiant effort, but is no match for both of them in the end. Lance and Hunk spend most of the game trying their best to not die.

Once the boys’ team is done licking their wounds, everyone decides to swim a bit more to cool off. Even Pidge agrees to it, though she spends most of the time hanging onto Hunk’s shoulders while he does the actual swimming.

Meanwhile, Keith finds a piece of driftwood and he and Lance decide to play fetch with Kosmo. Kosmo seems more interested in splashing around in the ocean than actually chasing the stick, so it’s mostly Lance and Keith who have to retrieve it when it lands further out and begins to float away.

At one point, Lance throws the stick a little too hard and it lands in the deeper water where the waves are breaking.

“Dang it,” says Lance, knowing there’s no way in hell he’ll convince Kosmo to swim all the way out there, “I’ll get it.”

“No, I got it,” says Keith, “I’m closer.”

Lance watches him wade out into the water, almost slipping at one point as he hits a small drop off. Eventually, it’s just his head and shoulders visible above the water. He reaches the stick and holds it up in the air, waving it at Lance, completely oblivious to the huge wave about to break behind him.

“Keith!” Lance yells, “Keith, there’s—“

Before he can even finish his sentence, the wave hits Keith, knocking him over. It must flip him completely upside down because at one point, Lance can see his feet briefly stick out of the water. Just when Lance thinks he’ll have to go rescue his dumb boyfriend from drowning, Keith surfaces again, a shell-shocked look on his face.

“You know what,” Lance calls over to him, “I think that’s enough fetch for one day. Why don’t you come back to shore?”

“I can’t,” Keith calls back.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t. I’m naked now.”

“What?!”

“The wave took my stupid trunks off!”

“Oh my god,” Lance has to bite his hand to keep from laughing too hard, “Hang on, I’ll get you an extra suit. Just stay there. okay?”

“Like I have a choice!”

Lance sprints back to the van and digs through his bags to retrieve an extra pair of red swim trunks. As he runs back to the shore, the others seem to have noticed Keith’s predicament.

“Keith, if you wanted to go skinny dipping so bad, you should have said something,” Shiro calls, between bouts of laughter.

“Don’t let the sharks bite you!” says Pidge, “You won’t be able to sit for weeks!”

Keith flips the bird in their direction.

“Don’t worry, Keith, I’ll save you!” says Lance as he bounds into the water, holding the swimsuit over his head. Kosmo, wound up from all the excitement, follows him into the water, barking and teleporting at random.

“Oh, sure,” Lance says to him, “now you want to chase stuff.”

He reaches Keith and tosses the suit to him and Keith ducks underwater briefly so he can shimmy into them. Once he’s decent again, Lance scoops him up in his arms and carries him back to shore.

“Is the princess carry really necessary?” says Keith, “I’m not injured or anything.”

“Keith, buddy, you’ve gotta let me exercise my god-given right to be as dramatic as possible. Besides, am I not allowed to cradle my own boyfriend?”

Keith snorts, “How the tables have turned.”

Krolia’s waiting for them on the shore with towels and a lecture for Keith to be more careful. As the sun begins to set, the others wade back to the beach and get dry. Hunk and Shiro find an old fire pit and build a bonfire. Lance, fully prepared for the possibility of any beach activity, brought plenty of food to be roasted. The group enjoys a delicious meal of hot dogs and s’mores. Soon, they are all full and beginning to feel drowsy, the especially satisfying kind of tired that comes from running around outside all day. It takes all the energy they have left to pack up their stuff and get it back into the car. At one point, Pidge actually falls asleep on her feet and has to be carried to the van by Shiro.

Eventually, Lance starts the car and makes the drive back to where they’re staying, this time with Krolia in the navigator’s seat, since she’s the only one among the group not in imminent danger of falling asleep. Lance can hear soft snoring coming from the backseat.

There’s something deeply satisfying, he thinks, about coming back to his old home and sharing it with his new family.

#voltron #vld #klance #shallura #lance #keith #allura #shiro #pidge #hunk #the gang's all here #my posts #my fanfictions

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stansrichie · 7 years

Photo

“Don’t you have to be a dick somewhere else?” “Not until four.”

pairing: stozier (richie x stan)

prompt by: @finn-got-tall

requested: yes

summary: richie annoying stan, as usual

warnings: none, besides a big trashmouth

not my gif

a/n: stan and richie are both aged up in this, hope that’s okay!

“Richie come on, we’re gonna be late. You know how my parents are and how much they hate you, do you really think it’d be a good idea to give them another reason?”

Stan was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, waiting not-so-patiently for his super slow and super obnoxious boyfriend, Richie Tozier.

Today, Stan and Richie were supposed to go to the Uris household and have dinner with Stan’s parents, which doesn’t happen often. What scared Stan the most is that he and Richie were invited by his parents, which doesn’t happen at all considering they aren’t the biggest fans of Richie.

“Stop shitting yourself, Uris, it’s 2:30. We don’t even have to be at your parents’ house until 4 o’clock, why are you losing your goddamn mind?” Richie yelled throughout the house.

Richie was currently stepping out of the shower which, according to Stan, should’ve been done hours ago.

Stan sighed loudly, climbed up the stairs, and banged on the bathroom door. Richie banged back on the other side and laughed.

“Listen, you little shit, if you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m going without you and telling them we broke up this morni-“

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a soaking wet Richie with a towel hanging loosely around his torso.

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence,” Richie said, poking Stan in the chest, splashing a small spot of water on his shirt.

“Richie are you fucking kidding me, I JUST ironed this shirt,” Stan yelped, frantically making his way back to their shared room.

Richie took his place back in front of the bathroom mirror and began to style his hair, smirking while listening to Stan ramble on.

“I swear I can’t have anything nice in this fucking house, if it’s not you ruining my clothes it’s you making a mess in the bathroom, or you leaving cereal on the counter in the mornings, or you taking my hair gel and leaving the cap open, WHO LEAVES THE CAP OPEN,” Stan complained.

Richie let out a loud laugh and walked into their bedroom to find something to wear, just as Stan was changing from his previous shirt into a purple button down, causing Richie to watch the boy closely.

“Look, Stanley, Stan the Man, Stanarooni,” Richie hummed. “It’s a small speck of water. You’re acting as if I rubbed Eddie’s mom’s underwear on your shirt or some shit. As far as the rest of those go, you love when I make messes because it gives you something to do throughout the day.”

Stan tilted his head to the side in confusion. “What are you saying? That I ENJOY your messes?”

“‘Course ya do, honey, because if I didn’t create said messes, you’d have absolutely nothing to clean around here. Then you’d be bored out of your mind for HOURS and HOURS. Hell, if I didn’t create messes you’d probably be in the woods so often, watching birds, that people would mistake you for Sasquatch!” Richie threw his hands in the air dramatically.

Stan blinked. “You know what, whatever, just put some clothes on and stop gawking at me while I change, I’m not in the mood. It’s already three o’clo- THREE O’CLOCK?” Stan screamed, checking his watch.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, RICHIE PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON, BRUSH YOUR TEETH, AND PUT ON SOME FUCKING DEODORANT WE HAVE TO GO NOW,” Stan panicked, frantically moving across the room.

Stan was moving so quickly that Richie started to get dizzy. Acting on impulse, Richie stuck his foot out in front of Stan, and Stan was sent flying onto the floor.

“THE FUCK DID YOU JUST- DID YOU JUST TRIP ME?” Stan yelled, looking up in disbelief. By this point, Richie was doubled over in laughter.

“Sorry babe, my foot must have a mind of its own,” Richie explained, in between laughs. Richie got dressed and threw on his usual Hawaiian shirt, much to Stan’s disagreement.

”I can’t believe I waited that long for you to wear the exact same thing you do every single day,” Stan sighed, shaking his head and sitting on the bed.

“Why did your parents invite us to dinner if they don’t fucking like me anyways,” Richie mumbled, shoving his foot into a worn out pair of shoes.

“I don’t know, but I’m not letting you walk out of the house like that. You have much better things to wear, so change,” Stan said, rummaging through Richie’s clothes and throwing a dress shirt he bought Richie on his birthday at the pouting boy.

“No, fuck you,” Richie said, crossing his arms and turning away from Stan.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Stan muttered. “Stop acting like a 5 year old and change, dipshit.”

A smile played on Richie’s lips, highly amused by the entire situation. “I don’t see why I should change my outfit to impress your parents. They hate me either way, what I wear doesn’t matter and I sure as hell don’t have any-fucking-thing to prove to them,” Richie explained, now looking right at Stan.

“Could you stop being an ass and just change? For me?” Stan said, losing hope.

Richie thought about it for a second. More than a second, actually. So long that Stan sat on the bed and waited for him to respond. Stan was desperate at this point and decided to try one last thing.

“Don’t give me the fucking puppy dog face, asshole. I’m wearing what I want,” Richie said, looking away from Stan.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I fucking said n-“

“PLEASE!”

“FUCKING FINE, I’LL CHANGE, JUST STOP GIVING ME THAT LOOK, YOU ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME,” Richie said, grabbing the shirt and changing.

“I’ll be downstairs waiting,” Stan called, smirking as he walked down the stairs.

A few minutes passed and Richie walked downstairs to meet Stan, smiling mischievously.

“You ready to go?” Stan asked, opening the door.

“Of course I️ am, Stan the man,” Richie mused, hopping out the front door, but not before placing a big, wet kiss on Stan’s cheek.

Stan wiped his cheek with a handkerchief and placed it back in his shirt pocket. Following Richie out to the car, he noticed one small thing.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Richie? You didn’t change your shoes!”

“I know, but don’t you like them?” Richie said, smiling cheekily and tapping his feet together.

“THEY’RE LIGHT-UP SKECHERS!” Stan exclaimed.

Richie laughed as Stan had a fit on their front lawn.

Stan leaned against the car, glowering at Richie. “Don’t you have to be a dick somewhere else?”

“Not until four.”

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8bityeol · 7 years

Text

Three Is Good Company [m]

Genre : Smut / Threesome

Summary : In a series of perfectly placed moments you witnessed something you probably weren’t supposed to see.

First of all, you didn’t mean to see it. It just happened. Literally. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time…maybe right place but still, you weren’t supposed to see it. But then why was his door open!?

Shaking your self sane, you wandered into the shared kitchen. You needed to do something, anything to distract yourself. Quick! You opened the fridge and took a loaf of bread out. You’d make a sandwich and pretend everything was peachy. So what you’d seen your flatmates kissing? You thought yourself as you slathered far too much mayonnaise on the bread. Shit.

You flung the soiled bread into the bin. You shoved the loaf back into the fridge and settled on pouring yourself a glass of water.

Kissing was normal, super normal. It’s not the action that had you so well…flustered; it was you. You’d stood there for a considerable amount of time, watching with bulging eyes and the faintest tinge of heat on your ears. If you had to be honest, it was hot. Really hot.

Your hands coiled in horror as you recalled the kiss. Their messy hair, reddened cheeks. Why the hell was the memory so clear!? You needed to erase it from your mind. One should really not think of their friends in such comprimising positions. Sighing, you grabbed at your jacket and car keys. You’d take a quick drive around town, maybe pick up some groceries and then you’d come home, mind clear and ready to take on the world.

You opened the apartment to the smell of garlic and onions. Chanyeol had cooked, and probably spaghetti judging by smell. You fixed a smile on your face as you slipped your shoes off. You’d go in there, enjoy dinner, have fun, talk then straight to bed.

“Oh spaghetti!” You exclaimed, your voice was too cheery for liking but what could you do now?

Chanyeol looked up. “Hey you. Call me crazy but did come home earlier on?” He said as he poured the sauce onto the plated pasta.

You blinked at him, contemplating what your answer should be. If you said yes would he know you’d seen him and Sehun? Not taking any chances, you shook your head. As far as he was concerned, you were never there.

“Nah, I just came back from shopping.” You said.

He furrowed his brows, “Really? I swear I heard someone come in.”

“Oh, wow. You sure it wasn’t uh... Sehun?” You said, dropping the groceries onto the counter.

He shook his head. “No, he was home.” He paused for a moment.“ Maybe I was hearing things.”

You nodded, pulling out a chair on the dining table. “That’s probably the case.”

“I’m going crazy, anyways, eat up,” he said, placing a hot plate of spaghetti in front of you. “We’re gonna watch a movie later, you joining?”

You picked up your fork. “Sure. What movie did he choose?”

Speaking of the man, you’d noticed that he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d left the apartment earlier. Oh wait, you’d seen his car in parking lot.

“Some thriller, I don’t know the plot but I’d told him to get a comedy,” chanyeol said, pulling up to the chair beside you. “It better be good.”

“Are you guys talking about me?” You heard the voice say. “Again.”

And there he was the man of the hour. He was dressed in that casual outfit he loved to wear after a shower, sweat pants and a random shirt, not to mention the still wet hair.

“Yeah, we’re talking about your lack of ability to listen,” Chanyeol said. “Just sit down and eat.”

“There’s always room for better choices,” sehun said, sitting in front of him.

You kept your eyes on your plate, putting far too much focus into the spaghetti. You couldn’t bear looking up right now, especially considering you were sandwiched between both of them. If it wasn’t for the ‘incident’ this would’ve been fine, normal even but alas it wasn’t so.

You ate your meal in relative silence, only adding the odd 'hmm’ and 'yeah’ when the conversation called for it. You were now sat on the sofa, feet curled into the side of the loveseat and Sehun sat across you.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Sehun said, breaking the near perfect silence that had come over the both of you.

You turned to him, “nothing wrong with a bit of quiet right?”

He nodded, but still his eyes pierced into yours as though he knew you were hiding something. That’s one thing you didn’t like about Sehun, he’d always have the knack of making you twist uncomfortably and pour out your secrets and what not.

“Hmm…sure, I guess you could say that. Did something happen at work?”

You shook your head. “I wasn’t at work today.”

He mulled over your words, inherently making you shift. God, why did this feel like an interrogation!?

“So, you were home earlier, I swear heard keys.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly shook your head. “No, I wasn’t. I was out… shopping.”

He stared at you, unblinking. “You shopped for that long? Wow.”

You stayed silent as tension increased by tenfold. He’d caught you out. It was like those nature videos were a cheetah chased down a impala. You being the impala. You could see the faintest upturn on the sides of his lip, he knew it. In the most subtle yet obnoxious power move yet, Sehun turned to the DVD case and begun setting up the TV.

“You could’ve just asked to join.”

Chanyeol came in then, face wide with a smile as he sat down on the sofa. Truly naive to the current situation.

“Sehun, this film better not be scary,” Chanyeol said. “Next time I’m picking the movie.”

“Don’t worry, it’s super tame.” He said. “Just be quiet and enjoy the movie.”

The movie watching went without a hitch and the moment it ended you scrambled to your room with the excuse of being tired. You couldn’t deal with Sehun’s piercing gaze and Chanyeol’s absent minded self any longer. It was far too much for one person.

You laid on your bed, pinching yourself the moment your mind began to wander to the 'incident’. You sighed into your pillow, angry with yourself and all the little instances and events that led you to be in the hallway that afternoon.

“Morning,”

You turned off the running water and wiped the excess foam from your face. “Morning. Slept well?” You asked as you patted your face dry.

“Sure,” Chanyeol said, suppressing a yawn. “Neighbors thought it be a good time to start an argument but yeah, it was good.”

You squeezed a smudge of moisturizer into your hand and smeared it all over your face. “You going into work today?”

He shook his head,“ I wouldn’t be if I woke up this late.”

“It’s barely late besides- ah wait…you’ve got something on your neck,” you said, having noticed a purplish blotch of colour his skin.

He stepped into the bathroom, immediately turning to look at his neck in the mirror. “Oh…that!” he slapped a hand over the mark, face turning pink as he laughed nervously. “That’s nothing.”

“Is it from Sehun-” the words came faster than you could stop them. God, had all rationale up and left this morning!?

He stared at you wide eyed. “Huh?”

“Huh?”

“You just said-”

You gathered your towel and made a dash to the door, but had a hand barring the doorway to stop you. “What do you mean sehun?” He asked, towering over you. Like a large tree. You’d never found Chanyeol scary but something about him today struck a twinge of fear in you.

“Um, I-I saw-,” great, now you couldn’t get your words out. You took a deep breath. “OK, I saw you and Sehun kissing.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why were you watching?”

You blinked twice. Was there really an answer for such a question. No matter how you answered you still looked like the slimiest individual ever.

“Who said I was watching?” You countered.

He shrugged. “How would you know we were kissing if you weren’t watching?”

“It was a quick glance.”

“Then why lie about not being there? I knew I heard you.”

You refused to be cornered. “Why should I tell you I was there?”

“Still odd to lie about a simple glance.” He said. “Alas, keep fooling yourself.” He pulled his arm away.

“I’m not fooling myself,” you muttered under your breath. You had one foot out the doorway, but then you stopped. “So are you and Sehun a thing now?”

He tipped his head back and let out a howl of a laugh. “God forbid! It was just fun.”

Fun?

“Oh alright…fun, so just casual?” You said.

He nodded. “Uh huh.” He stopped and threw you a smirk. “You know, if you want you can join us.”

Join them? As in a threesome? Your face flushed at the thought. The mere thought of having both Chanyeol and Sehun’s eyes on your bare body had your body had your nerves alight. You’d seen the girls they’d brought home, basically models they were.“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself, but the offers still up.”

You snorted and walked back to your room, leaving Chanyeol to do what the hell ever in the bathroom.

You wandered into the dining room after following the smell of breakfast being made. Sehun was behind the stove, making scrambled eggs. Chanyeol was sat at the island, … through cereal whilst scrolling on his phone. You couldn’t help but not notice the silence that overcame the room when you walked in. Chanyeol looked up from his phone and Sehun paused.

“What?” You said, opening the fridge and getting a bottle of orange juice.

“Nothing,” Sehun said, turning back to the stove. “Do you want some eggs?”

“Yes please,” you said.

You poured the juice into the glass and took a small swing before sitting down onto the island.

“Are you still up for it?” Chanyeol asked.

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol asked, pulling away from the kiss. You guessed he’d finally noticed how much your leg was shaking.

You nodded, willing your leg to calm the hell down. “I’m just nervous, I’ve never really done this before. But yes. ”

Sehun’s hand was still there under your shirt, snaking it’s way up your torso. “We can stop if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” You confessed, immediately feeling your skin flush after you’d said so. “I want this.”

“Whatever you say Princess,” Chanyeol said. His words lined with a grin that did far too much to your body, more than he probably ever hoped.

Sehun slipped your shirt off of you with ease only an expert could have. You’d often found yourself thinking about Sehun’s hands, they were very dainty, long and lined with thick veins. They were made touch other people. He made quick work of your bra as Chanyeol plastered his lips along your jaw, sucking and biting the skin as he moved down your neck.

Everything seemed to be moving fast and you certainly couldn’t keep up. Chanyeol was doing god knows what to your neck, but it whatever it was, it had your body buzzing silently. Meanwhile, Sehun’s hands were all over breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers earning him a small mewl whenever he pinched too hard.

You felt two hands pushing you down till your head landed on the pillow. Two ysets of eyes stared down at you, feeling yourself growing self-conscious, you attempted to place your hands over your body. As though you weren’t already bare.

“What are you doing?” Sehun asked, swiftly moving your hand to the side. "Don’t get shy now, besides, you look amazing.“

You said a small thanks to which Chanyeol laughed. "I don’t know why you’d be embarrased, you’re beautiful…too fucking beautful.”

You’re certain if they’d said anymore you would’ve exploded right there on this bed. If this was somewhat of a game between the both of them, you’re certain it was already game over for you.

Chanyeol’s head bobbed down and placed a kiss at the centre of your chest, whilst Sehun’s finger played with the lace trimming of your underwear. You could feel your stomach dipping on instinct as you felt his hand begining to travel under the fabric. As you felt Sehun’s hand cupping your mound, Chanyeol’s index finger trailed across your bottom lip, seeking entrance betweem your lips.

Your muscles tensed as you felt the pads of Sehun’s fingers making delicate circles around your clit, collecting the wetness as he worked. “Hey…relax,” you heard Chanyeol say from beside you.

“I’m relaxed,” you said, taking a deep breath and trying to loosen your limbs up.

“Not enough,” he said, his index finger sliding into to your hot wet mouth.

Your tongue tentatively slid across the digit, whilst your eyes looked into his for confirmation. Were you even doing this right? You wondered as you watched a small smile grace his face.

“Princess…don’t stare at a guy like that,” he said, momentarily closing his eyes and sighing. “You know what? You’re dirtier than I thought.”

A second finger proded your lips and so you welcomed it in wholeheardtly. You watched as his eyes grew darker the moment you’d begun sucking on them.

“Chanyeol…You talk too much,” Sehun said. The small ministrations on your clit were beginning build up to a gentle heat. "Let her enjoy the moment.“

You whined against Chanyeol’s fingers as you felt Sehun’s hand moving out from your underwear. He then hooked fingers on the sides of your underwear and procedded to pull the material down from your legs to a random spot in the room. You felt the bed dip as he moved and got off the bed, but you could only see so much considesing that Chanyeol was blocking most of your view.

"Open your legs wider,” You heard Sehun say, and of course you obeyed his request.

The first touch of his lips on your inner thigh had your legs instinctvely moving close but his firm hand was there to push them back. The next kiss you were barely prepared for but still you knew it was coming. You could now feel his warm breath along your pussy. If only you could tell him to hurry up, but your mouth was currently occupied.

As though both men were mind readers, Chanyeol slipped his fingers out of your mouth and you felt the ever so sinful touch of Sehun’s tongue. You’re certain if this were movie that something classical had to playing in the background…probably Canon In D.

You gulp as you feel Sehun’s needy tongue moving against your pussy, lapping eup your wetness as your clit throbbed against the muscle. This truly was heaven, you thought, as a series of moans spilled from your lips. “Sehun’s doing a great job, isn’t he?” You jumped, you hadn’t noticed Chanyeol’s mouth was so close to your ear.

“Yes, he is,” your voice was becoming all too breathless.

You could feel the heat in your stomach begining to grow, you were so close but then, Sehun moved his mouth away. You now laid on your elbows, staring at him through narrowed eyes. Of course he’d do this. He was now looking at you with the world most smug look on his face.

“I couldn’t let you come that early,” he said.

He moved up from the floor and made his way back onto the bed. “Chanyeol, time to swap.” he said, patting the other guy on the shoulder.

“Wait, you’ve got something on your lip,” Chanyeol said, handing coming to cradle Sehun’s jaw.

“Really…if you-”

I guess you could say this is the part when the violions and the cellos came in. You could only stare in pure amazement and awe as you watched Chanyeol’s lips moving almost maddeningly slow against Sehun’s own. You couldn’t do much to squash the flourishing flame in your stomach as you watched them pull apart.

Chanyeol looked down at you, “You taste a lot sweeter than I imagined.”

Sehun slapped him on the arm, “Stop it, she looks like she’s about to combust.”

You swallowed hard. You certainly were about to combust.

With a chuckle from both, Chanyeol moved off the bed. “I’m gonna need you to go on all fours, Princess.”

Once you were balanced on your hands and knees, you could hear the sound of Chanyeol pulling his shorts down and the snap of boxers too. Sehun was already in his boxers, for a man who loved to test others patience, he was never one to wait. He came to sit at the head of the bed.

One of your hands came to trail along his leg, feeling the stiff muscle underneath. You were deadset on giving him a taste of his own medicene, but his strong grip was already around your wrist. “I don’t think so young lady,” he said.

You pouted at him, “You’re mean.”

“Yeah Sehun, you’re mean,” Chanyeol repeated from behind you, enunciating the word with small slap on your ass. “So mean.”

Smiling to yourself, you began to palm the prominent hump in his boxers. You felt sense as pride as you felt his cock twitch under your touch. It felt nice to know you had such an effect on him. The head of his cock was strained against the fabric, just dying to be let out.

You felt one of Chanyeol’s thumbs enter you with ease. He moved the digit around, coating it in your jucies before slipping it out and replacing it with two of your fingers. You moved against his hand, it was innate movement.

As his fingers moved in and of you, you began to pull down Sehun’s boxers and let his cock spring out, it’s flushed head was right infront of your face. You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, squeezing the his girth as you placed small kisses on his head. He released a deep groan that nearly sent you off the edge. You could certainly get used to doing this.

You had to resist the urge to whine the moment Chanyeol slipped his fingers out, you’d already done it far too much and you’re certain their ego’s had been stroked far too much. You heard the sound of a plastic wrapper being opened.

“Alright…you ready?” He asked, stroking your hips.

You hummed in against Sehun’s cock, earning you a sharp intake of breath from him.

“Ahh- fuck,” Rasped out as you felt Chanyeol’s cock sliding inside you. His width pushed up against you walls as you wriggled closer to him.

You could tell you weren’t the only one affected, Chanyeol had dug half moons into your hips at the moment. You’d surely be reminded of this moment the next morning.

“Please move,” you said, after catching your breath.

You tightened your grip on Sehun’s cock and all he could do was squirm under your hand. You wrapped your lips around his length, taking what you could of him into your mouth. Meanwhile, Chanyeol began to move against you, slowly building up moment as he buried himself into you. You moaned against Sehun’s length.

You lifted your head up, catching some much needed air before going back to work on Sehun. His hands had released the duvet and were now nestled in your hair, pushing and pulling you up and down him.

Somehow, you’d never imagined Chanyeol as the type to move rough, but your expectants were certainly trashed as you felt him slam into you. The sounds of skin on skin began to fill the room, but you didn’t have it in you to be embarrased anymore. You were loving it.

Sehun pulled you up and you ran your tongue along the underside of cock, feeling the thick vein that spanned the length of him underneath your tongue. “Keep d-doing that,” he said, capturing his lip between his teeth. You could feel it, he was ready to come undone.

One of Chanyeol moved under you and came to rest on your clit. He rubbed the small bud in almost perfect synchrony with his thrusts. You muttered a slew of explatives as you started to rock against his hand. Now you were close too.

“Argh..please…just,” Sehun’s words came in small fractures as his hips began to thrust upwards. You wrapped your lips around his head, sucking the tip as you stared up at him through hooded eyes. That was really all it took. He emptied himself in your mouth, eyes screwed shut and muscles bound tight. You swallowed quick.

You could feel your own orgasm quickly rearing it’s head. Chanyeol’s hand never relented in its torture as you shook and groaned against him. You whined as you rode out your orgasm and his hand never left your centre. You writhed as you felt his own thrust loosing moment and becoming deep and hard.

“Fuck…Princess,” he said as his cock twitched to a halt.

You sprang up, eyes wide and scanning the room. “Hey, you slept through the whole movie,” Chanyeol said from beside you. “Next time I’m picking the film.”

You looked around the room - wait, you were in Sehun’s room. You turned to Chanyeol. He stared back, chin jutting before he broke out in a loud laugh. “I got you didn’t I?”

“Huh what-”

“Shh.. You feel asleep. Come on, you need to shower. Sehun’s making something to eat.”

A/N

Lord! This fic is fucking 3.5k words (3.5k words of pure sin). I know you’re thinking this isn’t that big but I, a lazy writer, tends to keep my fics under the 2k belt. This is probaby the second longest fic I ever wrote for my blog.

Oh and a big Chanhun thanks to everyone that tried to help me with a plot. This plot was an old one that I’d kept in the back of my mind but suddenly it popped but still, thank you babes!

#sehun smut #chanyeol smut #chanhun #exo smut #exo scenario #chanyeol scenario #sehun scenario #kpop smut #chanhun smut #chanyeol one shot #sehun one shot #sehun #chanyeol #exowritersnet

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