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rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip · 4 years ago

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Trade ya

based on this ask

TW//Slight violence and a mention of blood

Macaque slipped back into the theatre after his little chat with the Monkey Kid.

Boy howdy, that kid had some explaining to do, to his companions. If only he could stick around and watch that mess unfold. But he had to retrieve his lamp.

Honestly, that was easier than he thought it would be.

Wich was concerning.

As Macaque walked over to the stage he paused for a moment, where was (y/n) is all this?

The Monkey King was off doing his own thing for a while, and he'd assumed his kid would be hanging around Mk and his friends, yet the amber-furred monkey wasn't with them when they had entered the theatre.

Did Mk literally forget one of his friends? damn, he was starting to become like the Hero...

despite everything that's happened between them since the whole 'I stole the Monkey Kings powers from Mk and broke his trust leaving him emotionally distressed' thing, he actually wanted to get to know his kid(and maybe convince them to join him)the week of stalking wasn't enough for him to say the least.

Disregarding the thought (though not entirely) he make is way back to the remains of the lap.

And with a little magic it was good an new!

Fuck ya!

As he admirered his handy work for s little longer and sound of clapping caught is attention. Wiping his head around he saw the wired guy in a pin strip suit form the play, if Macaque remembered correctly this was the guy that game my the *Skeleton Key.

"My my, that was such a magnificent performance!"

"Ha, ya well it's over, t-this was the last show actually"

Oh he did not like this for a single second. His fur was standing on there ends screaming for him to just leave.

Just as Macaque was about to use the shadows to escape, in a flash of icy blue light the guy was now behind him, and the next thing he know he was being picked up by the neck and for some reason couldn't, fucking move.

What the actual hell is happening???

"Lady Bone Demon would like a word with you~"

In the blink of an eye, the scenery changed form the damaged auditorium he'd rented out to and underground cave with mechanical parts and machines everywhere.

Just one wif of the musty roten air and he knew he was in the Spider Queens lair. But it looked different then it had been that last time he was there.

Then again it's been centuries since he was last there.

He was shortly let go by the insane suite wareing guy and rubbed his neck where it had been grabbed. And just like that the guy disappeared, leaving the Lady Bone Demon in his stead.

"Why greetings Macaque, its beet long since we last spoke"

" not long enough if you ask me"

The white haired lady let out a hum of acknowledgement as she circled the monkey.

...

"Soo any particular reason why you got one of your brain dead servents to get me?" Macaque questioned, pulling back a bit not wanting to be in her immediate range.

Up purely tactical.

"Ah, well it's come to my attention that you poses something of grate use to me" her icy gaze fixed on the lamp.

"Ya not happening" Macaque said flatly, he went though a lot to get his hands on this thing and he wasn't going to part with it so easily. Besides what ever the Lady Bone Demon was planning, would spell doom for the world as they know it.

Macaque my be a bad guy in some sense, maby even be considered an antihero-that was just more of an ass on a good day- but he wasn't one for wold domination.

In the past he just wanted to wreck heaven with his dear beloved friend befor his change of heart, not enslave mankind. They just wanted to prove there worth nothing more. But this bitch, na she was jack shit crazy. It took the combined forces of Demons and celestials alike to seal her away, himself being one of said demons.

"Ohh what a shame, looks like I'll be keeping this little one then"

In a puff of smoke (y/n) collapses on the foor to her, there fur slightly matted with blood and a visible gash on the left eye.

Similar to where his was-

It wasn't deep and wouldn't cause damage, but it still needed treatment.

Holy hell is this where (y/n) was all this time?

Macaques mind was going a mile a minute but he kept his poker face.

"And I sould care about some random kid because?"

"Oh~ Don't play dumb with me, Six Eared Macaque. You know exactly who this little one is" she started using her powers for lift the amber-furred monkey off the ground there one good (color) eye glosed over and hazy.

"After all this is your child"

"Hate to brake it to ya, but I don't have a kid"

"My sources say other wise"

Several screens descended for the walls and around them, all flicked to like to reveal footage of Macaque during his little stalking mission when he first planed to steal the Monkey Kings powers and found out about his long lost kid, and then some other footage of his watching them from the shadows.

Oh, oh no.

"I had my suspension on the Luner New Years, but your reaction solidify's my assumption"

Wha- shit his poker face slipped! Shiiiit

"So I'll ask again, the lamp or your child- they won't die persay, but I think the underground market would pay a hefty sum for one of such unique lineage"

His heart was beating faster than he thought possible, wait why would it be doing that! He shouldn't care! Should he?

Glancing between the lamp and (y/n)'s beaten form Macaque made a decision he might soon come to regret.

(Y/n) was having a good evening, well that was until the Spider Queens minions jumped them while on there way to the theater to meet up with the others(minus Sandy, what he had cats to take care of!)

When the first woke up it was in a dingy cell. And the next thing they knew the Spider Queen tried to get information about the Monkey Kings whereabouts.

"Ya right like the peach loving old man tells me anything! So if you could kindly let me on my marry way that would be fantastic"

You realy needed to know when to such your mouth or just give total bullshit information because Queeni had gotten pissed, and tried to beat the information out of you.

The Lady Bone Demon had to pry the spider off you. Saying you still had a use befor you blacking out.

When they woke for a second time everything was hazy, and there was muffled talking almost like they where under water.

Water was nice, you should learn to swim! It seems like fun! Maby you could get Mk or Mai to teach you.

After all the Monkey King was a shitty swimmer- wait no he was crap as under water fights, but wouldn't that require swimming as well-

Uh oh, was you being moved? Nooo das no gooood stop!

Ughhh why won't the muffin voices stop! And why can't I feel my eye!

E-y-e

Y E S spelles yes

E Y E S spells eyes how did that one guy get that confused, and you is moving again ST 0 p

Wait this was more comfy than before, is that red? Oh my moons it is! It's so soft!

And soft it was and you drifted to a more comfortable rest this time.

The third and final time (y/n) woke, they weren't in a cell, or had a hazy mindset. Areas not that hazy, but this time it was more so due to medicine than pain.

In fact they lay on a plush mattress, with equally soft pillows and nice heavy blankets tossed other them.

As (y/n) sat up they winced in pain slightly.

Looking down they take notice of the bandages, and a slitting head- and there are bandages on your eye as well fucking perfect.

"Good to see your up" a voice greated. Wiping their head to the side, there stood Macaques with a slight concerned look on his face.

Wha- owowowowowowowow

Probably shouldn't be moving so fast as (y/n) winced in pain again.

As (y/n) tried to steady themselves again and think of a retort, and side of the bed diped and a hand was placed oh your forehead, whilst the other heaped your arm.

"What are you-" "checking to see if you're fever spiked " "I has a heaver?" "Fever, and yes it set is last night after a particularly nasty infection" "oh"

"Wait, why are you-"

"The Bone bitch had you, i-i couldn't just let her harm you any more than she already had"

"That's dumb, you're dumb"

Sigh

"Okay back to sleep with you"

"Where am I?" "One of my safe houses, now sleep"

Sleep but what if...

"I-its okay, it'll be okay I'll be here when you wake again"

(y/n) blinked at him.

"I promise" he said softly as he guided you back down to the pillow, he retucked you in and was about to leave when (y/n) caught his hand.

Well fuck

Uhhh, you know what he's had a long fucking day himself he needs some sleep too.

So discarding his scarf to the side, as well as some armor plating and his shoes, Macaque got into the bed himself and just used himself. As he made himself comfortable, back tuned away for his pup a single thought echoed in his head.

'Im a fucking dad now, geat'

*Skelton Keys are said to open any door, plus the cannon key had a skull on it so why not?

UwU Anon you have no idea what this means, you have water my crops cleared my skin and my mind is sane!

I was originally planing to have this thing where the spider queen captured the reader/oc and used the robo parasight to make them a follower, but this, this is so much better sksksksksksk

I did most of this on mobile and my auto correct is bitchy 🙃

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #six eared macaque #macaque #lego monkie kid au #monkie kid problem childern au #problem childern au #au #this is the really good angst #anon your brain is huge #rip a dip dip wrights

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 5 years ago

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Let Me {Katsuki Bakugo}

Quirks were just like any other physical ability in that overuse lead to strain. Training was always the preferred method of avoiding that strain, extending the limit to which pain or side effects would begin, but support items were also a viable option for the modern pro hero. Oftentimes, support items were used in conjunction with training so that if the item were to be lost or damaged during combat, a hero would still be able to perform their duties.

Katsuki Bakugo had spent years training his body to push past its natural limits for his quirk, and his mind to withstand the pain of overdoing it. He wasn’t stupid, though, he knew that adding in the bracers for his hero costume were an excellent idea to help him fire off explosions larger than what he could handle on his own. It worked well for him, and he had put a lot of villains behind bars thanks to the combination of skill and enhancement.

Even when the bracers were destroyed, disintegrating right off of his wrists and forearms, he got the job done. Ground Zero was a pro who did not take kindly to losing.

Which is exactly why his wrapped arms and shoulders were throbbing painfully as he stood on the platform of the train station near his agency, the late afternoon sun at his back. His messenger bag felt like lead as it dug into the muscle of his right shoulder. Every so often, his fingers would twitch from the strain throughout his arms.

He stepped on to the local train to head home, his mind only fixated on resting for the rest of the night and for the weekend upcoming. As he sat down, he let out a soft sigh of relief at the fact that the train car was essentially empty, allowing him to let his bag rest on the seat next to him. He legitimately didn’t think that he could manage moving it onto his lap.

Eyes half-lidded, he watched the LED screen scroll through the stops until his own displayed. With a deep breath to ready himself for the weight of his bag once again, he stood to exit the train.

“Shit,” he mumbled tiredly. He continued out of the station and trekked the final three blocks home, grateful that only his arms were out of commission; he could at least make it home without them.

That thought was immediately rescinded when he came to his apartment building and realized that he needed to scan his keycard to enter the lobby. His keycard that was in his wallet, which was somewhere in his messenger bag.

He glanced down to his bag, defeat overtaking his features as he stiffly moved his arm to dig around the main compartment. He fumbled through the contents, his muscles awkwardly uncooperative as he bumped against his empty bento box and the tangled headphones he could’ve sworn were neatly put away after his morning commute. Once his fingers felt the smooth leather of his wallet, he plucked it from the depths of the bag, slowly tapping it against the reader to enter the building.

Pushing the door open with his hip, he sped to the elevator and jammed his finger into the buttons hard, his arms tingling uncomfortably. The numbers ticked higher until settling on 17, a quiet ping sounding out when the doors parted. Stepping out onto the blue carpeted hallway, he moved towards the apartment marked 1701 at the opposite end of the hall.

The sight of his girlfriend lounging on the couch greeted him once he opened the door and between that and the knowledge that he could finally rest, he felt his aching shoulders sag in relief as he dropped his bag to the ground by his kicked off shoes.

“Welcome home,” she greeted quietly, sitting up to make room for him next to her. “I have the heating pads ready for you if you want those first, but I can grab some ice packs if you prefer. Oh, and your compression sleeves are clean and sitting on the night table.”

He stared at her, not registering her words at first, but when she stood up and crossed over to him, her soft hands cupping his face, he snapped back to the moment.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” she said, pecking him on the lips. “All thirty-five hostages rescued and not a single casualty other than the bank building about to undergo renovations anyway.”

Bakugo’s brows furrowed. “I don’t need a reward for doing my job.”

“Katsuki, I’m not rewarding you for doing your job, I’m giving you what you need to feel better since you overused your quirk. My plugging in two heating pads and pulling your compression sleeves out of your drawer was to save you five or ten minutes of dealing with your pain. Forgive me if I’m not interested in seeing my boyfriend suffer any longer than he has to,” she said coolly, lips pouting slightly.

He sighed. “That’s—I’m not trying to be an asshole. The last few hours have been hell, but I really do appreciate you helping me. Thank you.”

That allowed the pout to reform into a smile.

“You really have to learn to let me take care of you. You’d think after three and a half years together you’d get it through your head,” she teased, tapping two fingers against his forehead, secretly tickled that he couldn’t swat her hand away. “Now, heat is usually what you prefer first, so do you want me to grab those heating pads to put on your shoulders after we unwrap your arms and put the sleeves on?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled in agreement, watching as she disappeared into their bedroom. He crossed over to the couch, the plush cushions encouraging his body to relax as he sat down.

She reappeared with his compression sleeves in her hands and plopped onto the couch next to him, setting one sleeve to the side as she reached for his arm closest to her.

“You need to fire whoever wrapped your arms for starting at your wrist and going up. It’s usually easiest clipping the end at your wrist so your shoulders aren’t limited in their mobility,” she explained, gently pulling his arm out towards her and letting his hand rest on her thigh as she set about unwinding the fabric from his arm. As she worked, she could feel the tightness of his tendons and the heat of overuse, his muscles twitching every so often beneath his skin.

Once he was finally free of the bandages, she slid the compression sleeve up his arm and adjusted it to the proper position before standing and moving to his other side to repeat the process on the opposite arm.

“Shoulda been a nurse,” Bakugo mumbled as the second sleeve was put in place.

“Nah,” she disagreed. “You know I’m not good with blood. Plus if I were a nurse, who knows if Ochaco and Izuku’s wedding would’ve actually happened, honestly.”

“Got that shit right,” he said. “I still don’t know how you got green and pink to look nice together.”

She waved a hand flippantly as she got off the couch. “The right shade of mint and the right shade of blush aren’t that hard to come by; any good wedding planner knows that. It just takes some time. I’m gonna grab the heating pads for you.”

He watched her leave the room once again, gingerly bending his arms now that the compression sleeves were securely in place. They still felt heavy as he moved them around to try and work out some of the soreness, and he grimaced at the pull of his tender muscles.

“Now that pink on your cheeks would make a good color for my clients,” she mused from his left, startling him. “Maybe we should save the stretches for after dinner, yeah? Rest up with the heat on your shoulders and I’ll get cooking.”

“You don’t have to cook,” he said, reaching for the heating pads. “We can just get takeout from the ramen place on the next block.”

She held the heating pads out of his reach. “Nope, I’m making stir fry while you rest your arms. Now pick a comfortable position and let me take care of you, asshole.”

“You sure you’re quirkless?” he grumbled as he settled down into the couch cushions and she arranged the pads on his shoulders, the heat making him relax slightly. “They had to have missed your stubborn ass attitude when they diagnosed you.”

“The extra joints in my toes don’t lie; your girl’s quirkless,” she chuckled, kicking her foot up and turning to the side, wiggling her toes within her sock.

He grunted, allowing his head to tip backwards to rest on the back of the couch.

“Rest up,” she murmured, running her hand through his hair. “I’ll take the heating pads off in about ten minutes and get you when the food is done. If you wanna fall asleep, I’ll wake you for stir fry.”

An overwhelming part of him hated being told what to do to feel better, like he was some little kid who needed his parent to watch over him so he didn’t hurt himself even more. But he paid attention instead to the smaller voice within his mind that told him to listen to her, to let her take care of him. It wasn’t that she thought he was weak, he reasoned, but just as she’d said when he had snapped when he came home, she wanted to help him feel better because she cared about him.

Sighing as her hand fell away from his hair, he blinked up at her. “You gonna make it spicy?”

“I’ve got everything to make the Szechuan style we saw on that cooking show. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, closing his eyes and allowing the heat of the pads to soothe the ache in his shoulders.

He heard her soft footsteps retreat into the kitchen, and then the quiet bangs of cabinets opening and closing. The background noise lulled him to sleep before long, the comfort of being home and knowing his girlfriend was nearby making it that much easier to relax.

The next thing he knew, the heated weight of the pads had disappeared from his shoulders and the spicy scent of dinner was hanging thick in the apartment. Blinking open his eyes, the first thing he saw was a familiar, warm smile.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said happily. “I hope you enjoyed your cat nap.”

He hummed, sitting up straight and assessing his arms’ condition. Stretching didn’t hurt as much but it still wasn’t pleasant; at least eating wouldn’t be painful.

Rising to his feet, he followed her to the chabudai that was already set with a bowl of stir fry and chopsticks for each of them.

Bakugo had never been overly impressed with mealtime gatherings that seemed to only be had to make small talk and have the “how was your day, honey?” questions he’d been a reluctant party to when he was growing up, but when it was just the two of them alone in the apartment, he liked it. It was enjoyable to recount his day’s events and watch her reactions to the gritty details of his job that he admittedly only threw in to get a rise out of her, and even better when she’d stroke his ego with praise. Listening to her tell of her days planning the arrangements of who knew how many weddings was something he looked forward to hearing, too. With as many roles as he played and tasks he had to complete at the agency, there were moments where he was in awe at everything she managed to accomplish for the people who hired her.

Quirkless as could be, she was one of the most sought-after wedding planners in the country because of her involvement in executing both the Shinto and Christian ceremonies of Deku and Uravity. With the endorsements of two new, rising heroes on her resume, she had attracted a lot of attention of other pros who were willing to pay a handsome amount for her services. Bakugo’s attention was also caught during the planning phase and the actual ceremonies, but not for her wedding planning services.

Three and a half years later, he was grateful that the damn nerd had brought her into his life, but he would be absolutely damned if he’d ever admit it out loud.

Even as she waved off his loud insistences of helping clean up their dishes, he was grateful.

“For heaven’s sake, Katsuki, it’ll take me like five minutes to get the leftovers cleared away and our bowls washed!” she sighed. “Go wait for me on the couch, I’ll be right there. Queue up that movie about the spies we need to watch.”

Grumbling the entire time, he set to work arranging the few throw pillows on their couch into a small pile that he would inevitably end up draped over while she curled against him. He grabbed the fluffy grey blanket that he knew she would want too despite the heat in the apartment and the natural warmth his body produced.

With the remote in hand, he took his place on the couch against the pillows he had set up, the blanket to the far side so that she had room to press against him, which is exactly what she did as she came in from the kitchen. She pulled the blanket around herself as he tucked her under his arm, the blanket over his arm and partially covering his chest. A quiet mumble to begin the movie came from her and he obliged.

The plot, he quickly realized, was predictable and stupid. He should have expected that really since it was Kirishima and Kaminari who had suggested the movie during their last get-together and of all the movies they had suggested to him since their time at UA, he had only ever enjoyed three. So, he checked out of the scenes on the screen and let his mind wander—the day had been long enough that he probably deserved some more time to not do or think of anything important.

His eyes closed as he moved to lay more on the pillows he had gathered earlier, but his face contorted into a grimace as it sent twinges down both of his arms.

Her weight against him disappeared, gingerly guiding his arm from around her shoulders. “Are you alright, Katsuki?”

“Yeah,” he gritted out, the dull throb that had appeared distracting. “Kept them in one position for too long. They locked up on me.”

“You want me to grab ice this time or should we go with heat again?” she asked. “I can try massaging your arms if you think that’ll help?”

He shook his head. “No, its fine, just… keep watching the movie.”

“This movie sucks, the guys were full of shit when they said we’d like it, so let me help you instead.”

“You don’t—”

“If you’re about to tell me that I don’t need to take care of you or do something that’s going to help you, I will fucking scream,” she warned, cutting him off. “Can you just let me do what I can to take care of you? I don’t like seeing you in pain and if there’s something I can do to help alleviate it, I’m going to do it!”

He took a heavy breath before speaking. “I swear that I’m not trying to piss you off, I just… you know I’m shitty at asking for help or whatever. And I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

She sighed, lifting a hand to thread through the hair at the base of his neck. He was a complicated bastard on the best days, but he was her complicated bastard and she couldn’t ever imagine a time when she wouldn’t want to make their relationship work.

“I know that you’re able to take care of yourself, Katsuki,” she said softly. “You’re great at taking care of me and I appreciate it more than you know, but sometimes I can help you too. Relationships are a two-way street; we take care of each other, you know?”

He felt her tug on his hair lightly, small zings of pressure a better feeling than the pain he’d been experiencing so far that night.

“Maybe a massage would help,” he relented, voice quiet.

She smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Let’s leave the tidying up for the morning and head into the bedroom where you can sprawl out more.”

Bakugo hummed, once again ignoring the large part of him that was uncomfortable with being tended to, and stood up, stretching his back before heading into their bedroom. He fell face first onto the mattress, the once-pristinely made bed flying askew with blankets rumpled under him and the two throw pillows flopping over sadly.

“What a view,” he heard followed by a low, playful whistle.

He turned his head so that she could see his exaggerated eyeroll, a few giggles escaping from her as she moved to climb on the bed with him.

She tossed a leg over his torso and settled into the dip of his lower back, her hands splaying out across his shoulders. The tension was still radiating through him like it had earlier and she was determined to help ease his pain however she could.

“I’m gonna take the compression sleeves off,” she said, hooking her fingers into the band at the top of his left arm. When he gave a quiet hum of consent, she peeled the sleeve down as gently as she could and slipped it off of his wrist. Repeating the process on the other arm, she tossed the sleeves on the bedside table and traced the reddish indents on his skin softly.

After a moment, she returned her hands to his shoulders and started to knead into the muscles there, working up the amount of pressure she used to work out the tightness. His skin still felt warm from the overuse of his quirk, but it was much better than when he had first come home.

She worked methodically to massage down his arms, varying the pressure she used when he would wince or suck in a breath, unable to let himself show the pain and soreness she knew he had to be feeling. Once she reached his wrists, she started at his shoulders and repeated the process again, happy to not have as many signs of discomfort from her boyfriend. The tension beneath his skin was considerably less when she finally pulled her hands away from his wrists for the second time.

“I hope that helped a bit,” she murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of his neck.

He let out a content breath. “Sit up.”

She straightened back up and raised up onto her knees from her sitting position on his back. Bakugo flipped over onto his back beneath her and she settled back down to sit on his thighs while his hands came to land on hers. His arms were still sore with a dull ache, but the soft touch of her massage had helped soothe the pain to something more than manageable.

“That definitely helped,” he told her, looking up at her through the hair that had fallen into his face. “I should be good after getting a decent night’s sleep, but you worked out most of the tightness. Thanks for that. Thanks for everything you did tonight.”

She brushed the hair out of his eyes with a tiny smile. “I told you, I don’t like seeing you in pain. I love you way too much to let you suffer if there’s something I can do to help.”

Bakugo sat up at her words, one hand sliding up to her hip and the other going to the back of her neck as he kissed her. Her hands wrapped loosely around his neck and she kissed him back, feeling him relax even further.

Breaking apart, he let out a happy sigh and rested his forehead against hers with both of their eyes still closed. “I know I probably don’t say it enough, but I love you too.”

“I know you do, even if you don’t say it out loud; you say it when you let me take care of you like you did tonight,” she said quietly, nudging her nose against his. “You’re a man of action, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He smirked, then pressed his lips back to hers. Curling his arm around her waist, he used the placement of his hands to gently maneuver her off of his thighs and down to lie with her back to the mattress, his body covering hers. He braced himself on his forearms and continued kissing her, deepening it with a soft bite to her bottom lip and feeling his skin heat for a different reason when she allowed him into her mouth. It was short lived, though, because his arms started to tremble, and before they could completely give out to make his full weight fall onto her, he rolled off of her and onto the other side of the bed, their kiss breaking far too soon for either of their tastes.

“Damn it!” he snapped, the tremors fainter without needing to hold himself up.

She grasped his hand in hers as they laid side by side. “Katsuki, it’s okay if you need to rest. We can pick right back up with this tomorrow when you’re not as sore.”

“After having a shit day like this and coming home with a piss poor attitude, you did all this shit to make me feel better and I can’t even thank you by taking care of you in bed,” he ground out through gritted teeth. He glared off to his left, not wanting to show his disappointment in himself. “Some man of action I am.”

He felt the bed shift and a hand cup his jaw, slowly moving his head to turn and look at her. Their hands still clasped together between them, he realized that she had moved to lie on her side and face him.

“Have I ever told you how goddamn self-depreciating you are?” she asked with a pout to match the one he had unknowingly adopted in the past minute. “Because it’s definitely one of those things we need to work on.”

She then sat up and once again tossed a leg over him, settling herself down firmly in his lap, causing a low groan to slip past his pout. Eager to hear it again, she smiled and began to slowly grind against him.

His eyes fell closed and his hands landed back on her thighs. “Is this about to be another moment where I’m supposed to let you take care of me?”

“My man is so smart,” she praised, leaning down to kiss him and pick up right back where they had left off moments ago.

He lifted his hips slightly to gain more friction, her slow motions not nearly enough for how worked up he was feeling, and his fingers found the hem of her shirt, pushing it upwards until she had no choice but to break the kiss to toss it aside.

With her bare skin exposed, he ignored the heavy feeling in his arms to run his fingertips across her stomach and up the expanse of her back, popping the clasp of her bra with more precision than he expected from his formerly fumbling digits. He then worked the straps down her arms and threw the fabric aside easily, his kisses moving along her jaw with the intent of finding the best patch of skin to mark as his hands came up to cup her chest, kneading the soft skin.

“Your shirt too,” she gasped out as he scraped his teeth across the side of her neck. Her hands snuck beneath his t-shirt and glided up his torso, the ridges of muscle all too familiar under her fingertips. Within a minute his shirt joined hers on the floor and she pressed their bare chests together as he continued to create a mark on her neck, her small whines filling in the silence of the room.

He pulled back once he was satisfied with the mark he had left, smirking when she let out a soft moan as he moved his hips harder against hers. The quiet, breathy moans she let out were all the encouragement he needed to tuck his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and underwear, tugging them down slightly.

Pushing herself up and off the edge of their bed, she slipped both pieces of clothing down her legs and kicked them off to the side before climbing back onto the bed as Bakugo stared at her, his joggers and underwear also shed in the time she took to stand up and discard hers.

She reclaimed her place in his lap, feeling his excitement against her thigh as she leaned down to mold her body against his, cupping his jaw to reconnect their lips in a hard kiss that only became deeper when his tongue ran across her bottom lip. Her hands threaded through his hair as they continued to kiss, a low whimper escaping her when one of his hands left her hip to press between her legs.

“Katsuki,” she panted, breaking the kiss and burying her head in the crook of his neck as she felt two of his fingers rub her clit with slow but firm strokes. His pace could almost be called lazy, but she knew that he was anything but when it came to their intimate moments, ever generous and attentive.

Her heavy breaths changed to quiet whines as he worked his fingers lower, gently easing both of them past her folds to get her prepared. The noises she let out were perfect to him—even though they had the freedom to be as loud as they wanted in their own home, it just wasn’t how either of them expressed their pleasure. Low murmurs and breathless moans were their language in those moments, only the other able to hear and understand.

“You’re the best part of bad days,” he whispered, rhythmically curling his fingers in search of the one spot he knew would cause her whimpers to become even sweeter. “Coming home to you means I fuckin’ won, no matter how shit the day was.”

The end of his sentence was punctuated by a higher pitched moan when his fingers hit just right.

“Please, I’m ready, Katsuki,” she said quietly, shifting to kiss below his ear as her hips bucked into his hand. “Let me have you.”

Bakugo groaned as he withdrew his hand and she sat up to position herself over him, thankful that they had taken their precautions that made condoms unnecessary. Each time they were together, he felt closer to her, but once they were intimate without any barriers, he had no desire to ever go back and risk the newfound level of closeness discovered when it was only the two of them and their passion.

His hands went to her hips to guide her into place, and she moved to lower herself down onto him, each of their eyes falling closed at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he breathed out as she took him completely, his already waning self-control growing even thinner, “I… you feel so good.”

She let out a choked laugh, placing her hands on his stomach for stability. “You do too. But I can make it feel even better.”

Lifting her hips almost completely off of him, she paused for only a moment before dropping back down with a gasp. She rolled her hips to start a rhythm as she began to ride him, every few movements lifting up and dropping back down. With the firm grip on her hips and the placement of her hands on his stomach, she kept her balance to make sure her movements remained uninterrupted.

Bakugo began to buck his hips up into hers as she brought herself down onto him, both of them moaning at the new rhythm’s intensity. His right hand left her hip to once again apply pressure to her clit, knowing she needed just a bit more to reach her orgasm.

“Y-you always know what I need,” she said breathily. She was close, and she knew he had to be too.

He smirked, his half-lidded eyes making it that much sexier, and let his fingers make fast figure eights to get her closer to the edge than she already was.

“Cum before me or with me, your choice,” he said lowly, feeling his muscles tense, coiled and ready to reach the high he was desperately chasing.

Her cheeks flushed, she rushed out, “I’m-I’m c-“ but cut herself off with a whimper of his name as she bent forward to press her body against his tightly as her orgasm shook through her, drawing out his release at the sudden tightness around him. After a few moments when the initial sensitivity began to disappear, she pulled off of him and lowered herself onto her side to face him. Immediately, he turned to her and his arms came around her back to pull her close as hers curled around his biceps, his skin prickling slightly at the feel of her nails digging into him and concentrating the dull ache in one area. They were both panting heavily, her body trembling against his. The afterglow was starting to hit them both, and as their breathing came more slowly and evenly, they sank again into slow, deep kisses that were sure to extend the time they could float on their own cloud nine.

Uncurling her now-loosened fingers from his biceps, she ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair and pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. He watched her, one hand tracing an easy up and down pattern on her back.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

“I love you too,” he returned quietly. “Thank you for always being here to take care of me. I promise that I’ll always be here to do it for you too.”

She smiled. “How do your arms feel?”

“Still sore, but I’ll be alright,” he replied with a shrug.

Hugging him to her, she pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks and his forehead before giving him a lingering kiss on his lips, one he eagerly tried to chase when she finally pulled away to stand up. He grunted in annoyance but couldn’t deny that the image of her in front of him looking very blissed out and sporting a red and soon-to-be purple love bite on her neck was one he would be happy to stare at for the rest of his life.

“I gotta clean up,” she said as she walked into their bathroom.

Bakugo took the moment alone to reflect on his day. He would for sure chalk the work part of his day up as shit, no two ways about it. Any time he overused his quirk was a bad time, but also the paperwork he had to submit to get his spare bracers upgraded so that the same situation didn’t happen again in the future was frustrating and repetitive. Well, that was most paperwork he had to do, but his extremely sour mood didn’t do much to help.

But then he came home. He came home to a beautiful, hardworking, and thoughtful girlfriend that did every goddamn thing in her power to help him and make sure he was okay after overworking his power to the point of pain. She took care of him in quite literally every way possible and fuck, was he just so damn grateful.

Her voice stirred him from his thoughts as she came out of the bathroom and announced, “Your turn!”

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he bent down to scoop up his underwear and sweatpants from earlier to place in the laundry hamper on his way to the bathroom. As he crossed the short distance, he watched her grab his discarded shirt from the floor and set it aside on the bed. Typically she would wear his civilian clothes to sleep in, and he would bet any amount he had in his wallet that those were her intentions.

After cleaning up and brushing his teeth, he shut off the bathroom light and made his way to his drawer to find a pair of shorts to sleep in, easily plucking them out and slipping them on as he threw himself back into their bed. He settled down into his pillow and watched her put her hair into her preferred sleep style, naked still except for a pair of tiny shorts.

“Anything you need me to grab before we turn in for the night?” she asked, turning around to face him as she slipped on the dark shirt he had worn home to sleep in.

Fuck, she looked so good in his clothes and for heaven’s sake, he couldn’t take it any longer.

He raised a single finger from where his hands laid on his stomach. “Just one thing. Can you go into the closet and get my UA blazer?”

She leveled him with a curious gaze, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Please?” he added with a pout.

“Now I was told that fantasy was going to be a one and done type of deal,” she teased, walking towards their shared closet to retrieve the blazer.

She easily found it, slightly dusty from being smushed against the wall with the rest of the uniform he hadn’t touched in years. Maneuvering it off of the clothes hanger, she draped it over her arm and turned back to him. When she started to shift it over to him, he stopped her.

“Look in the right-hand pocket.”

Dipping her hand into the pocket, she felt smooth leather at her fingertips as they curled around the object.

“C’mere. You can toss the blazer.”

She kept her palm closed around the black box as best she could as she shakily set the blazer aside. When she turned back to him, he gestured her towards him, and she complied, slowly moving back onto their bed. Gently, he took her free hand and pulled her closer so that she was sitting on his lap once again.

“I’ve had this in that pocket for two months,” he said, tapping the exposed side of the box from where it lay in her hand. “Been trying to think of the best way to go about this because you plan weddings for a living and hear so many engagement stories… I wanted ours to be perfect so that anytime you hear your clients tell theirs you just think ‘yeah, but ours was better.’ Knowing you, though, you wouldn’t want any of that fancy or elaborate shit, you’d just want something us and honestly, what’s more us than stir fry and sex on a Friday night? So, after talking about letting you take care of me and me taking care of you, how about we just take care of each other until we’re old as fuck? Marry me?”

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

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I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Four

Ao3, Masterpost, C.1 C.2 C.3

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

tumblr edits out my italics when i copy/paste, and its midnight on a school night, so. italics arent in the tumblr version of this chapter cuz im not manually replacing them rn :P

Warnings: Taxidermy, swearing, fights (verbally, not physically), mentions of death, sexual innuedo (thanks remus), sympathetic everyone but there is Conflict.

Word Count: 2,645

Patton had learned, in his many years of emotion-filled life, that every person interacted with others uniquely. An obvious thing to learn, maybe, but in his younger years he felt like it really wasn’t made clear enough.

When it finally hit Patton that other people didn’t feel things in just the same way he did, it came with slow disbelief. Shocked was he to learn that not only were people so vastly different inside, but that he might’ve been one of the most different of all- even with the other sides. After all, each of them had seemed to understand all their differences like it was second nature, while Patton tried to come to terms with the information.

And come to terms with it he had, throughout Thomas’ late teens to early twenties. It was just Patton’s nature to try and learn about his friends, and that didn’t change when the task got harder. If anything, he’d become furiously determined to know how to care for all his family better than anyone, even if it more than once sent him spiralling in thought.

Logan, for example, was at his best when he was around other people; calmly talking, debating, doing work in the same space, anything that amounted to time spent together. So, even when Patton didn’t know what he was going on about, he did his best to at least be someone Logan could talk at. Which must’ve have worked somehow, because Patton couldn’t even count the times anymore he’d realized it had been hours after starting a conversation with his best friend, the both of them grinning and talking and enjoying each other’s company. Color Logan understood!

Roman, an even easier case to crack, didn’t really care what kind of attention he got- as long as it was positive. Which Patton was of course happy to provide! Though Roman became easily suspicious of any signs of friendship, Patton liked to think he’d weaseled his way into being a close companion, if the amount of times Roman dragged him off on adventures was any indication. Roman, too, was a check!

Virgil had been harder to figure out; not enough support and he got nervous, too much and he’d get overwhelmed. Fine balances did not come easily to Patton, so there had been more than a little trial and error. He’d eventually landed on treating him not unlike a wild cat: to just exist in the same space and let Virgil do whatever he wanted in his own time (a method that had found resounding success!). Virgil, much as he wanted to seem mysterious, was also marked off the list of understanding.

Janus was deceptively easy to work out. He just needed someone to challenge him, all in good sport, to be friendly and frustrating at the same time. Call it environmental enrichment, but with people! Patton was more than happy to be one of those people, pushing and pulling in equal parts banter and genuine conversation. Janus, surprisingly, was clear as well.

Patton wondered if it was weird to think about it so much. He thought about all of them, and he wondered if they took time to decode him, too. Or maybe they just knew already- they saw the heart on his sleeve (or chest, as it were) and had him all figured out right then.

He liked to believe they did spend time thinking about it, though. It was nice to think he wasn’t the only one that cared enough to take the time, and he knew that they cared about him already! Even if they didn’t say it as much as he did, even if they showed it all differently, and even if sometimes it felt like they didn’t understand him…

They still cared. The hoodie around his shoulders said so. The card framed on his wall said so. The stray dog dander on his clothes said so. So long as he had that, who needed the luxury of understanding?

Patton shook his head, no, he wasn’t worrying about all them right now. Right now, there was someone else to worry about.

Remus. Remus, who always chatted on and on, but sometimes went dead quiet for no reason at all; whose expression never seemed to match his words, who laughed when he was happy and when he was angry, who yelled when he was bored and when he was overwhelmed. Remus, who threw himself around a corner for a cheap jumpscare every five minutes, limbs broken and wrapped in ragged, punk-style clothes. Who would also drape himself all the way across Patton gently and calmly, wearing something baggy and impossibly soft (but still neon as ever), talking and talking and acting like it was all perfectly normal. Remus, who Patton wasn’t even sure was officially his friend yet.

Patton wanted him to be. But there was still… something in the way. Some kind of frustrating, tense, unknowable barrier that left him on edge around the trait. If Remus could just tell him something, anything, or give him any hints at all about what Patton was supposed to make of him, then it wouldn’t be so downright impossible. But he was inscrutable, an open book written in a language Patton didn’t know.

Whenever Remus walked into the room, it was almost like nothing had even changed since his acceptance.

Speaking of-

Patton barely had time to dodge out of the way as Remus leapt onto the couch, landing in a sprawl and taking up as much space as possible. He looked out of breath, so he’d probably booked it down the hallway and stairs, too. Just as probable was him having no reason for doing so at all.

“Hello,” Patton said.

Remus, from his laid down position, arched his neck up until he was peering upside-down at Morality. He had a reserved look in his eyes, but it was obvious he was fighting not to grin.

“Guess what I did.”

Patton paused. There were… a lot of ways that could go. Most of them weird.

“Um-”

Remus made a disturbingly accurate buzzer noise, exclaiming, “Took too long!”. He flipped over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his palms, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, and rocked back and forth excitedly. “I made you something!”

The worry slipped out of Patton’s mind, replaced by curiosity. He hummed, smiling, and asked:

“Like a gift?”

Remus beamed.

“Something like that!”

As Patton laughed by response, he ran his thumb compulsively over his bead bracelet (that he hadn’t taken off even once since getting, of course).

“That’s so sweet!” he chirped, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The Duke puffed out a breath, ruffling the white section of his hair. He rolled his eyes and shifted around, pushing up until he sat upright.

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t we done this dance before, Morey?”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Patton shrugged, his expression turning sheepish, “What is it, then?”

Remus’ grin widened in that almost impossibly way of his, and something about the glint of his teeth was distinctly threatening. It probably wasn’t intentional, but Patton could never really tell, when his claws tapped impatiently against his leg and something mischievous wormed into his expression.

“Well, you have to close your eyes, first!” Remus clapped his hands together, and there that glint seemed to get brighter.

“Oh, uh-”

“It’s not gonna be my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Patton yelped, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Well I wasn’t worried before you said that!”

Remus shrieked with laughter. Patton didn’t move his hands from his cheeks, a flush of discomfort starting at his ears and pricking his skin.

“You’re hilarious, but no- not this time, at least,” -Remus winked- “But just close your eyes, okay?”

Patton took a couple deep breaths, glancing up to give Remus his best approximation of a stern glare. He then let his hands drop to his lap, palms up, and squeezed his eyes shut.

There was a soft whoosh, and something small was dropped into Patton’s waiting hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over its surface, tracing something like fur. Soft, short fur, but when he pressed it was far too stiff to be a plush animal.

“Remus,” Patton felt along the object with both hands, jolting when he felt something scaly at the end, “What-”

“You can look now!”

Patton did as told, staring down at his lap.

There laid a rat.

A dead one, to be precise. A dead, taxidermized rat, posed up on its hind legs like some goofy little cartoon character. It’s eyes were impersonal glass orbs, but its skin was perfectly, horribly real.

Patton looked up, his eyes wide with disgust, to see unfiltered excitement shining on Remus’ face.

“I made it myself!” His pride echoed in the words, that grin stretching his lips looking all the more unnatural.

It was then that Patton’s body caught up with his brain, and he realized what exactly he was holding. He dropped it- all but threw it, actually- kicked it and scrambled back and anything to just get away.

The gift fell to the floor with a dull thump, toppling under the coffee table and out of sight. Patton pressed his hand against his mouth, the other one tightly fisted in his lap. He felt sick- sick enough that his brain was leagues away from rationality. Because he’d really touched- held- that corpse, that thing that used to be a cute little critter, what was now a homemade trinket of horror.

He turned his attention back to Remus, and a million thoughts and feelings rushed him. Betrayal, horror, fear- and weirdest of all was surprise.

Remus’ smile twitched, and he tipped his head from side to side.

“You dropped it,” he pointed out, “I thought you liked rats?”

The noise Patton made was something between a gasp and a cry.

“I like alive ones!” He exclaimed, pushing himself back until there was a good cushion’s distance between himself and Remus.

Remus’ smile dipped lower.

“Well, this way you don’t have to take care of it! It’s all of the cute with none of the trouble!”

“You think this is cute?!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything- he hadn’t gotten through to Remus even a little? It was all still a game for him to terrorize Patton? To shove dead things into his lap and laugh about it?

But Remus wasn’t laughing, strangely. In fact, he was very still.

“You don’t like it?”

In hindsight, Patton would look back on what he said with remorse so strong it gave him headaches. He had scores of memories like that, of course, but this one’s sting would never fade, not even long after they’d moved on from it. But in that moment of fear, of revile, he could not think about anything else but the feeling of being tricked by his almost-friend laying heavy in his stomach.

“Like it? Is this- are you joking? Remus, you made me touch a dead animal! I thought we were starting to be friends, but- oh my God, what is wrong with you?!”

Patton was sure he stopped breathing right after he said that, his voice choking out. In the silence that followed, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Remus stood up, and everything about the way he moved showed a woundedness that didn’t suit him. He looked at Patton with an awful intensity, his ruby-red eyes practically glowing. There was nothing vulnerable about him when he was hurt, nothing at all like how Patton would respond to something like an argument. There was only anger and tension.

He didn’t smile, but his voice stayed pitchy. Gleeful.

“Everything,” Remus hissed, “I thought you’d catch on before now, but.”

Remus spun on his heel, and the floor beneath him bubbled with oil and acid and plague as he sank into the ground and out of the living room. The carpet shriveled, sick-green, in his wake.

That was when the understanding hit him. A lot like a train.

“Oh, no,” whispered Patton, “Oh, no.”

Patton struggled to his feet, as if on autopilot. Was he going to go after Remus? No, no, that definitely wouldn’t go over well. He was probably halfway into the Imagination by then, anyway, ready to take his anger out on his creations and not do any talking at all.

Patton tore his eyes away from the spot where Remus had sunk out, stumbling over to the coffee table instead. He crouched, reached his hand under it, and let his fingers touch the fur of his discarded present. He grabbed it, looked down at it. The wave of nausea when he saw the little rat was now less disgust, and much more regret.

He cradled the preserved creature in his hands with all the gentleness he could. There was a slip of thick, yellowish paper attached to it, that in all the upset had gone completely unnoticed. It was folded in half, tied with twine to the rat’s neck.

Patton looked into the rat’s shiny, empty eyes for far too long, watching his reflection be distorted by the spheres. He took a shuddering breath, then, and thumbed the edge of the paper, felt its grain, and flipped it open.

“This is Jenner. You can have him, because even if you’re a priss, if you can handle me you can handle having cool shit like this. Plus, you’re weirdly nice to me, so I guess I don’t mind being nicely weird to you.

-R (the funnier one <3)”

Patton read the note once. Twice. Three, four, maybe six times the words ran over each other in his head.

The paper slipped from his fingers. He held his rat in both hands and stared down its coffee-brown snout. Patton couldn’t help bringing the figurine to his chest and hugging it tightly, like it was the thing he’d hurt so badly, serving as surrogate. Its sharp fingers and tail poked through his shirt like needles, but he ignored it, holding the irrational hope that the inanimate object could forgive him somehow.

Jenner was creepy, that was probably intentional; his proportions and pose were so uncanny it couldn’t have been an accident. And it was so, so very Remus of a thing that Patton couldn’t stand to hate it. His shift in view was so sudden, and in some sad way he realized that the conflict had been the final piece he’d needed. What let that understanding crash into Patton’s mind, painting the picture of somebody layered.

The picture of Remus, who he was, had finally clicked into place- and at the exact worst time for it to do so.

Patton had fucked up. Massively.

He didn’t react how he thought he would when he realized it. He didn’t grow weary and exhausted, desperate to apologize and then collapse into unthinking sleep for days. Gone was the emptiness of making promises that he hoped he could hold true on, just wanting to have gotten it right the first time. No, Patton felt something burning under his skin, something itching him to take action because he’d learned from a mistake. He knew exactly what he’d done, and he was ready to do better right damn now.

Patton breathed in deep and exhaled sharp, because first…

He sunk out to his room, Jenner tucked into the crook of his elbow. He rose up at his bedside and shoved a handful of knickknacks off the nightstand. With enough space cleared, Patton set his rat down on the table and stood it up on his alarm clock, facing the bed. And then, as just a final touch, he smoothed back the fur of its head and gave it a peck on the forehead.

Now, he had some planning to do.

Chapter Five

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

#sanders sides #ts #intruality #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #platonic intruality #qpr intruality #patton #remus #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

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cythieus · 3 years ago

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Any Port in a Storm Part I

Peach’s thin fingers leafed through the pages pinned to the clipboard, her eyes scanning the information in each blank and bubble. The lanyard, that she had gotten to fight her bad habit of losing pens, had actually ended up nudging her toward a new propensity to chew on them. She fought the instinct for now and at least she was always sure where the pens were.

She flipped to the front page, her vision tracing a path over the patient name and general information. Slipping the clipboard neatly into the slot at the footboard of the bed, she let the pen drop from her mouth to hang from her neck and dipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. The coat was such a shade of pink that it seemed it might have once been white and was just washed with something red by accident. She never replied to inquiries about whether its color was intended or not.

“Your charts are trending really well, Mr. Meeks,” Peach said. “The swelling has dropped off tremendously and you’re more alert than you were just a few hours ago.” She was sure to flash a smile, but she didn’t let it linger on her face for long. This visit wasn’t all good news.

Meeks replied with words too garbled to mean anything to anyone other than him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke, letting Peach know the desperation behind whatever it was he was trying to get across. It was to be expected that speech would suffer given the severity of the stroke.

“I know that you’ve got a lot of questions,” she said. “I will be here to answer them as soon as things are a little better,” Peach said stepping around to the side of his bed. Her hand touched his forehead and she smoothed back the dark brown hair plastered to his skin.

“I’ll come around and check on you in a bit,” Peach said. It was best not to give exact times, the expectation might of her showing up might upset him and his mind was still foggy. There was no telling if he would be napping when she came back or if he would remember this conversation all that clearly. These first few days were bound to be a haze, but there could be some crucial developments too.

She waved curtly at him before turning to leave the room through the wide, mauve colored door. There was a sink in the center of this wing of the hospital, just across from the nurses station. She washed her hands in it, rolling up the sleeves of her coat to scrub halfway up to her elbows. A small group doctors and nurses passed, walking in a tight group and talking in hushed tones.

The whole world was hushed tones. It had been a sixteen hour shift so far and though there were times where she could take a short rest, most of her time had been spent on her feet. It would be several weeks before there were any relief either.

Absently, she dipped into the on-call room to grab a cup of water and just rest in one of the huge plush chairs. Peach didn’t know exactly when her eyes shut or for how long she was out. If someone had needed her they knew where to check on days like this. That was part of the problem.

“Peaches!”

Daisy’s excited scream was enough to rouse Peach, but not enough for her to open her eyes. Maybe if she pretended to be sleep Daisy would move on or was that bears…

“Wow, you smarmy bitch, I know you hear me,” Daisy said.

Peach could hear Daisy’s footsteps as she crossed the on-call room. The light from the hallway cut through her eye lids, causing a dull pain in the front of her forehead.

“The whole floor can hear you,” Peach said finally, shutting her eyes tighter against the light.

“Heard you were in here.” Daisy was standing right over her now, half-silhouetted by the light pouring in through the door. She wore a loud orange, yellow and white sundress with a frilly skirt and high heels. She always stood out against the beige and white tones that lined the halls of this hospital.

“Are you working today?” Peach asked.

Daisy cracked a little smile, her bronze skin had a luster to it even in the in the darkness of this room. “I’m always working, but no, I’m here seeing Luigi. I’ll be on the road for a bit with this new launch coming up, I might not get to see him for a while.”

“Do you need the room?” Asked Peach.

With a flick of her hand Daisy dismissed the question. “Nah,” she said before she folded her arms over her chest. “If we’re going to screw in this dreary place I’d rather do it in one of the empty rooms in the children’s wing.”

“You’re the worst,” Peach said.

“I know, but the little pictures of parading Goombas and Mushroom people they plaster on the sides of the beds make me smile,” Daisy said.

They had both gone through medical school together. Long before even that they were best friends, in fact Daisy they had known each other since before either of them could talk, but part of the way through their residency Daisy had chosen a different route in the industry: she was a sales rep for Gadd Pharmaceutical. It was her job to travel the region and teach hospital staff about new drugs or update them on treatment options afforded to them by drugs available to them.

Peach yawned, her arms and legs jerking out out so that she could stretch. There was no point trying to get Daisy to filter herself. “Have you found him yet?”

Daisy shook her head. “No, but I saw your little boy toy,” Daisy said giving the front of Peach’s chair a series of rapid kicks.

“Stop it,” Peach said, her fingers pressed against the sides of the bridge of her nose out of sheer frustration.

“He always asks about you and, like, he works in this place with you. How’s that going?” Daisy asked.

“I don’t fraternize like that here--” Peach said.

“—you’re definitely not fraternizing anyone and haven’t for a while. When was the last time you went out?” Daisy asked.

Peach sighed. “Half your job is taking people out and buttering them up,” she said. “It’s different in here.”

“You’re not only in here though, Peach. I might as well buy you a big crate of D-batteries and four weird cats so you can just settle down to be one of those old women who’s only source of sexual tension is the weird bag boy at the grocery store.”

“Hey, my life has sexual tension!” Okay, maybe that was too loud.

“There’s more sexual tension in nursery rhymes without people in them,” Daisy said. She crossed the room and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she produced a small flask from a pocket hidden in the ruffles of her dress and poured a splash in with her coffee. “Talk to Mario. We can go on double dates.”

Daisy took a sip of coffee and then dumped the rest of the flask in. “We’ll be dating twins. Twins that are doctors. We could swap stories about them over mimosas and you can tell me if I’m right about Mario’s crank—“

“—Ew, Daisy no. I don’t—I don’t have time for those things right now.”

“Meow.” Daisy said after another, longer drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Meow,” Daisy said again. “I’m going to meow like a cat when you make excuses for not having a life. I’ll come to your apartment and just slap your stuff off shelves and pee in your shoes too until you get your personal life together.”

“You know I have other friends, right?”

“Sure you do.”

“Luigi and I get along well. And Doctor Bowser is a little, extra, but he seems nice and he always rushes any pathology results when I really need them.”

Daisy laughed. “I wonder why,” she said smiling as she tilted the cup up to her mouth again. “I notice that you’re not mentioning Mario in all of this.”

“Mario and I are…just fine. Why are you so concerned with all of this?” Asked Peach.

“You’re so happy,” Daisy said. “I mean I want you to be happy.” She took another big gulp of coffee. “But you’re happier every time I see you.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I just loved work?” Asked Peach.

Daisy shrugged, her blue eyes fixated down on her cup. “It smells bad here, like all of the time and people…people die,” she whispered the last part.

A little chuckle escaped Peach, she was sure it was not out of crassness, but other than that couldn’t tell where it came from. “The work is very hard. Occasionally I lose a patient or I have a really bad day, but my day is never as bad as the ones these people and their families are going through. And more often than not I get to make sure their day gets better…and that they have more days at all.”

Daisy eyed her for a long enough time that she was able to take several more sips of coffee. “You’re hiding something. I’m just here to let you know Peaches, I’ve known you too long for you to outsmart me for long. Im going to go find my man, you want the rest of this?” Daisy held her coffee cup down to show Peach the bit of dark coffee sloshing around at the bottom.

Peach shook her head. “Can’t drink—I need to be alert; I could use some food. It’s been hours since I’ve eaten anything.”

“I’d love to grab lunch with you, but we’d have to—“

Peach cut her off. “—no, you’re here to see Luigi. I’ll be fine,” Peach said.

“Are you sure?” Asked Daisy as she tossed her cup and the remainder of the coffee and liquor mix into the trash.

With a little smirk plastered on her face, Peach nodded.

Daisy closed the gap between them and reached out to touch Peach’s forehead, her thumb brushing back the flyaway bangs that were too short to make it into Peach’s haphazard bun. Daisy swept a blonde tendril of hair back behind Peach’s ear. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” said Peach.

Daisy bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “See you later, love.”

She was careful to close the patient’s door before starting up, but the entire time Peach kept eye contact with Lemmy. He was one of the newer nurses in this part of the hospital, but he had worked in other places supposedly. She really didn’t know him that well, he hadn’t been around long enough. Peach knew she had to nip this in the bud.

“Why am I seeing that you held my patient down and started a Phenytoin drip?” Peach asked.

Lemmy was an odd looking man, even for a Koopa. He had rainbow colored, dyed hair and his eyes were a little crossed. His arms seemed too long for his body, like he had to bend them awkwardly when he scratched the back of his head. “It’s one of the most common anti-seizure medications.”

“Maybe sixty years ago. It’s never a first choice now and an IV is inadvisable due to the risk of cardiac or local toxicity.” Peach kept her tone even. She didn’t make it a habit of laying into nurses and other hospital staff, but this whole situation rubbed her the wrong way.

“I made the call I thought was best and look, the patient is getting better.”

“They’re getting better because you got lucky. We don’t hope for our luck to hold out in a place like this because when it doesn’t people die. We do our due diligence to make sure that we don’t end up staring down the barrel of a malpractice law suit or, worse, having to tell a family there’s nothing more we could do,” Peach said.

“No disrespect, but you’re being hysterical, Dr. Toadstool,” he said.

Peach brushed the hair out of her face and glanced around to see if the inevitable attention of nearby staff had found them. She pushed her lanyard and stethoscope aside to reveal her identification badge. “Can you read that word right there under my name?”

Lemmy glared down at the badge and then back up at her. He knew what it said before he read it, but had looked anyway. “Neurologist.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought it said too, but I wanted to get your opinion since you’re such an expert.” Peach fumbled with the door charts. “Look, you’ve obviously been at this long enough that you feel you know better than everyone even though I spent more time doing my residency than you’ve been doing this job. Do what you want. And when someone has adverse effects I’ll treat them. When they code I’ll do my best to bring them back, but remember someone won’t always be there to pick up your slack.”

Peach tossed the clipboard back into the slot in the door and trotted off down the hallway, unsure of where she was going. She knew that others would be staring at her now, she had raised her voice just a tiny bit, but she had been here too long and there was no excuse for how that nurse was talking to her, especially not after that.

She thought it might be best to end her day here. Maybe this was the end of her rope; she had been burning the candle at both ends for some time now and the more exhausted she was the more dangerous it became for anyone placed in her care.

One of the break room doors was down the hall was open and she heard the sound of Daisy’s voice before she could even see what was going on inside. She didn’t feel like stopping, but she spotted Daisy and Luigi curled up on the couch together watching the TV, he must have been off. It wasn’t unusual for him to hang around the hospital when he was done.

Peach passed by, heading into the wing opposite her own. As she passed through a set of double doors and the cold air of the next hall washed over her she spotted a familiar face coming her way.

The mustached doctor and Luigi’s brother, Mario. He smiled as he noticed her, but stopped a little ways down the hall in front of the elevator. She strolled up to meet him. “Dr. Toadstool,” he said.

She gave a little nod of acknowledgment. “Dr. Mario.”

“Where are you headed?” He asked.

“Um, this elevator. I think I’m ending shift I’m on,” she said.

“Must be a Hell of a shift, weren’t you starting when I left yesterday?” Mario asked.

Peach chuckled. “It’s possible, my days are kind of blending together,” she said. Then she leaned down and pressed the button on the elevator. “One of us should probably press this.”

“You’re going up?” Mario asked.

Peach glanced up and down the hallway. “Yeah. I mean, you were. We’re having a conversation, so I’m going with you.”

“I mean we were but…” he trailed off. “Your drug rep buddy stopped by my office today.”

“Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, she was mostly cordial.”

The silvery doors of the elevator opened and a soft robotic voice spoke. “Floor three, going up.”

Peach followed Mario into the elevator and when the door shut he asked. “Did you tell her about us?”

“No.”

“Really?” Mario grazed the side of her leg, just below her skirt and her skin went tight and hot. “Why not?” He asked.

She crouched down to his level, resting her back against the metallic elevator wall. Peach clenched his wrist, holding it up and pressed her body to his, their lips almost missing each others in the collision, and his hand trapped between them.

Peach grabbed his necktie, through the top of his coat to pull him closer. He groaned, the sound coming from somewhere in his throat or upper chest. His mustache scratched at her upper lip, but his mouth seemed softer than she remembered each time they did this.

The ride to the tenth floor and Mario’s office was never long enough for anything too exciting, but it still left her in a hazy stupor. When the doors opened the stumbled out of the elevator with hands linked, giggling like school children until they made it to the door of Mario’s private practice.

Mario struggled getting the key into the door and turning it, the lights in the office clicked on automatically when they stepped into the waiting room. The walls were lined with chairs except for the spots where a decorative plant or magazine rack was. Below some of the chairs were baskets with toys for the children. The area seemed much larger at night when no one was there.

“Mind if I take some time to wash my hands?” Peach asked.

Mario shook his head. “Course not.”

Peach slipped the coat down over her shoulders to reveal the plain white button down blouse she wore under it, she tossed the lab coat over a chair and headed for the restroom. Even before she started to wash her hands and the moment the door was closed behind her, the sink was running. The dark sacks of skin puffed up beneath her eyes in the mirror were the true sign that she had reached her limit for the day, she probably had some hours ago.

She rinsed her hands in the warm water, adding soap, and then rinsing them again. Peach splashed some of the water up into her face and dried it off with one of the beige paper towels from the automatic dispenser.

Her gaze met her reflection’s in the mirror. “Mario and I will get there soon, but today’s not the day. Best not to rush these things.” Every secret date and little meet up they managed, this was her mantra. Mario was going to be there, he wasn’t going anywhere and she didn’t see a reason to push things too fast with him. There was a lot of emotion tied up with that part of a relationship. It all seemed like a seriousness that she didn’t want at the moment.

For all of Daisy’s talk of Luigi, things were easier for her just by virtue of being a drug rep. She wasn’t chained to the same building as Luigi, constantly worrying about how every little interaction with him went. She had prep time!

Not that Daisy worried about anything like that—she seemed to drift through life on extremely fortunate luck.

With a small sigh, Peach undid the top button of her blouse and, using a paper towel, turned the knob to open the door. Mario had left the waiting room, but she knew where he would go. She made her way through the hall where his smaller examination rooms were until she reached his office. The first thing that she noticed every time she entered this room was the view, it was overlooking New Donk Medical Plaza, but in the distance was midtown and city hall sparkling like constellation.

Mario was perched on top of his desk with the dull purple of the city lights filtering through the window at his back. It was enough that Peach could make out his eyes, it was enough that she could see in his face what he wanted her to do. She pressed herself into the apex formed by Mario’s legs until the hollow sound made by her knees bumping the desk echoed through the room.

They both had to stifle their laughter, but it was that awkward kind of chortle that snowballed into a more infectious, out of control laugh. The electricity between them had been stretched so taut that Peach heard all of these sounds that weren’t there. At least them laughing covered that up.

The chuckling tapered off until they were standing there staring into each other’s eyes. Peach rested her hands on Mario’s legs, just above his knees. He lifted her chin, stroking the side of her face with his thumb and kissed her cheek. “Do we want to stay here or go somewhere else?”

“We just got here,” Peach said in a very small voice.

His lips brushed against her ear, his mustache ticking the side of her face and catching at the stray tendrils of hair. “But you didn’t eat today, did you?”

How did he know? “No,” Peach said out of breath. “It’s no big deal, I was going to pick something up on the way home.”

“We could pick something up together.” Mario pressed his face into the nape of her neck, sucking at the skin just where her shoulder began to curve up. He fumbled through heir hair, undoing the ribbon that held it up.

“We could.” Her body responded by curling to the side, resting her weight against Mario’s leg as she let out a little gasp.

“It wouldn’t take long.” The words were spoken against her neck, barely audible, but she vibrations of each syllable across her skin was like lightning. “We’ll just—“

Peach spun, locking her lips to his forcefully and pushing her tongue into his mouth. Their chins jabbed at each other as they rocked together against the desk. He groaned so low and so deep that it felt like it was coming from within her. She moved her fingers back through his dark hair, the bits at the front were damp from where he had probably splashed water in his face the way she did.

It didn’t occur to her that her eyes were shut for a while, that they had closed themselves out of habit and all of her senses seemed to meld in to cover the gap. She could smell the dying embers of his cologne, something strong and astringent with a citrus hint. There was a smell just peeking through that one, like an iceberg out of the ocean, it was the smell of clean sweat and just him. His mouth tasted slightly sour, in the natural way anyone’s probably did after being in this place all day. She didn’t mind because it was Mario.

“I had a really, really awful day,” Peach said, pushing her hand into his chest to separate them. Behind him, the sky outside the window had changed. It seemed cloudier, buzzing with a kind of static.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mario asked.

“Not really,” she said. “Come here.”

Across from the office from his desk, set against the wall was a small couch. Peach slipped out of her shoes before folding her legs onto the couch, so that she was sitting on them with her butt rested on her calves. Mario trailed behind sluggishly, pausing before the leather couch when she moved to pat the spot next to her.

“Are you sure?” Mario asked.

Peach leaned out, grabbing his hand and pulling it into her lap. “If you want me to be.”

“I want you to be sure for you—we had that talk before and—“

“And we decided that when the time was right we would know, but let’s be realistic: you want me, right?” She asked.

Mario’s eyes zigzagged along her body tracing a line from her toes, around the bend in her knee and all the way up to her face. “How could I say no, Peach, I—“

Her foot brushing the side of his leg stopped his words, his eyes widened and then Peach was unbuttoning her blouse, slowly revealing a flimsy pink tank top she wore underneath it. Mario watched, his heart beating so loud that she could hear it, could feel it where his hand rested in her lap.

Mario clambered up onto the couch and crawling over her, his hands sunk into the couch on either side of her waist. Her mouth rose to meet his helplessly and Mario’s lips responded by pushing her head against the arm rest, smashing her hair into a knot behind her head.

That little cautious voice in her head was in a veritable screaming panic, but the thundering of her heart and the soft moans drowned out any want she had to stop herself. Peach wasn’t above just going for it and this was a calculated risk.

A flash of light filled the room followed by the tremendous rumble of thunder. Peach caught Mario’s chest with both hands, her nails tracing little lines over his smooth skin. Around and between his nipples. “It would be dangerous for me to drive in this weather—I didn’t even bring an umbrella,” she lied. She always had an umbrella. Any reason to stay like this.

“I guess we’ll just have to stay here.” Peach rocked forward resting her butt on the leather sofa just in front of Mario’s crotch. Her hands trembled with anticipation causing her to fumble with his belt, managing to free the clasp from the puncture holes that held it after a few attempts.

Mario was rigid beneath his slacks, she could feel him when her arm brushed against the bulge beneath the fabric. He twitched sending a positively seismic shiver through her very being. Peach reached through the v-shaped crevice of his unfastened slacks and under the waist band of his boxers to grab his cock. He let out a stuttering sigh and arched his back, pumping against her grasp involuntarily. His skin was so warm and smooth and he glided through her palm.

Peach laughed, biting down softly on her lip and then glancing into Mario’s big blue eyes. “Is this okay?” She said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” he moaned.

“Yeah,” she repeated. “Are my hands too cold?”

Mario shook his head.

A dopey grin stretched over Peach’s face. She pulled his cock up over the waistband of his pants. He was engorged, the skin being stretched so taut had smoothed any wrinkles there might have normally been. It wasn’t like she was some kind of cock connoisseur most of her experience with them recently had been related to her work. Feeling one in this context without latex to separate skin from skin and with it heavy and erect was caused her to think things she’d usually gripe at Daisy about saying.

Peach looked down at it, running her thumb along the gentle, rounded rise of the crown of his cock at an excruciatingly sluggish pace. Mario nails raked at the leather couch when she finally reached the ventral side where a little divot that marked the beginning of the frenulum led her thumb up to the hole in his penis. Mario sucked on his teeth, wincing at the sensation.

“Does it hurt?” She asked.

Mario shook his head.

She thought the better of blowing him. It had been a long time and she was tired. Probably tired enough that she wasn’t thinking clearly, but more so she had been at the hospital over a dozen hours. If she went down on him and he felt compelled to do the same for her—no it was best to keep things simple.

Peach’s hand grazed his face, the stubby hairs dotting his face catch at her skin as she makes small circles around his chin. “So…”

He leaned in to press his lips to her neck. The air conditioner for the area of the building kicks in with a thunderous hum that seems to shake the sofa and drum through their bodies. Everything is so secluded, cut off. They’re in a building with hundreds, maybe thousands of people, but they’re alone.

The second that his fingers touch the inside of her thigh every rational part of Peach is gone. Even with all of the room afforded to them, they stay confined to the couch, fumbling to stay in contact, never not kissing for more than a few moments while trying to strip to the minimally required clothes.

He got her underwear down and she could feel the damp fabric move past her leg. Peach moved to mount him, straddling and pushing him back into the couch. Her pressed against his upper chest, almost in his face. Mario pushed his way inside of her slowly, rising up to meet her body halfway. Peach grunted, her eyes shut against the sensation, but she after a second she began to rock her hips against him.

There was a warm satisfaction in the way that they were grinding together. Why did she wait so long to do this? They rocked together on the couch while the lightning outside erupted into a full fit that lit the darkened room for full seconds at a time. Thunder undercut her soft moans, his desperate grunts.

Mario mouthed something against her ear, and though she couldn’t hear him just the brushing of his lips on her ear exhale her answer, a breathy, “yes.”

He gripped her hips tighter, pulling her down hard onto him as if trying to get every inch of himself to go into her. His breath caught and his teeth nipped at her ear. Peach felt the hot explosion inside as Mario came.

Peach clenched her thighs around him and turned her head against the back of the couch, biting at the leather to muffle her little moans. She hadn’t actually quite come, which was normal. She didn’t typically cum without a lot of lead up or something other than vaginal sex, at the very least.

But then it seemed Mario wasn’t done with her.

He moved from between her legs, leaning against the couch with his left arm and then tugged her upright with him and spinning her so that she was pressing her bare back into his chest. She let out a sharp yelp as his lips touched her neck.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Peach said, holding up a hand as if to steady herself.

Mario wrapped an arm around her thigh, bunching her skirt into knots between her legs and began press against the folds of skin between her legs. Peach’s body jerked forward when he brushed the fabric against her clit. Air caught in her throat as she went to make a sound but was cut short by the surprising intensity of the sensations. He mimicked the motion that had gotten the reaction out of her, massaging with a little more pressure now and pushing the cloth of her skirt against the sensitive area.

He steadied her with his other hand, pulling her back to his chest and cupping her breast.

She tried to encourage what was happening, but the only word she could get out was his name. Something warm and wet and slow dripped down the inside of her thigh. In the kind of brief moment of clarity that can only be recognized in distant hindsight, she thought about what had happened: I let him cum inside me?

That was her last true bit of her self-awareness before Mario’s fingers, wrapped in the textured fabric of her skirt, caused her to melt into him. She was reduced to a moaning mess of jerky hip rocking mixed with sharp yelps.

Despite the embarrassingly small size of the styrofoam cup, Peach still held it with both hands as she swiveled it beneath her nose to take in the aroma. Mario definitely bought better coffee than they had back on her floor. She could tell by the heat against her cheeks that it was still much too hot to drink.

She stared out over the misty morning skyline of New Donk through the huge window in Mario’s office. They slept, naked and bundled up in their discarded clothes on the old leather across from his desk. The blinds had been up and the sun’s light burned across the room into their eyes at its very first chance. What was she thinking? In all her years she had never had sex with anyone from work, especially not at work.

Actually, she hadn’t had sex since she worked here. The length of time since her last relationship slowly dawned on her. Still, things with Mario came so naturally. Through months of courtship leading up to this her heart continued to flutter when he first spoke to her. It had happened when they woke up together.

The door to the office opened and Peach spun around, frightened that they hadn’t locked it and it was some parent and their child coming early seeking medical help, but Mario stepped in with plastic grocery bag dangling from one hand.

“You got them?”

“Yeah. The lock on your locker is a little finicky,” he smiled. “And don’t worry, no one saw me.”

“I would only worry if Daisy was still snooping around,” Peach said before finally taking a drink of her coffee.

He handed her the bag and Peach placed her cup on his desk to open it. She stared down at the bottom to see the fresh pair of scrub pants folded neatly. “Thank you. Pretty sure my skirt can just go in the trash now,” Peach said moving to wrap one arm around him. “Um, sorry about your couch—it must be pretty old.”

“Are you kidding, it’s a leather couch in a pediatricians office, it’s seen some shit. I’ll get some leather wipes and it’ll be fine,” he said. “It was actually already here when I moved into the office.”

“Oh,” Peach said putting a shocked hand to her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have put my mouth on that…”

They both froze before bursting into boisterous laughter that last far too long for what wasn’t even meant to be funny.

“What did you decide to put back on?” Mario asked. “Are you just wearing the coat?”

“No,” Peach said pulling the lab coat open so he could see. “I’m just wearing the blouse beneath the coat and…yeah the coat.”

He hugged her around the waist. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are standing around in just a blouse and lab coat?”

“If you say so…” Peach giggled. “But…don’t start that now, you’ve got appointments—and—and a secretary coming in a half hour. How do you think Shokora will feel about me being in here with my naught bits all exposed?”

“So you have to go?” Mario asked.

“Yes. I need to nap and shower and try to salvage this skirt too.”

While Peach changed into the scrub pants and finished her coffee they chatted some more about mundane things. When it came time for her to go she was insistent that she walk alone.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay walking down to the car yourself?” Mario asked.

“Yes. I usually do it at night. Plus it would ignite rumors.”

He still walked her as far as the elevator, stopping to lean against the doors to hold them open, he checked both ways down the hall before leaning in to kiss her. “Goodbye, Doctor Toadstool.

“Bye, Doctor Mario,” she kissed him on the lips and he stepped back letting the doors close between them.

The moment she was out of sight, Peach jumped up and down with her hands balled into tight little fists at her sides. She wanted to scream or dance, maybe even while screaming, but the elevator dinged and came to a stop for an old woman in a wheel chair to roll in. She nodded at Peach, but said nothing on their ride to the sub level.

The parking garage was bustling with people, more than she was used to seeing. This wasn’t a time when she normally arrived at or left the hospital, which turned out to be lucky for her because most of these people wouldn’t really know her. She opened the back door of her car, throwing the bag of clothes she’d brought down onto the floorboards.

“Peaches!?”

Oh no.

“Peaches? I know goddamn well you hear me. Is that your cute ass in those awful scrubs?” Daisy rushed over and hugged her, pressing her against the side of the car roughly.

“Hey Daisy.” Peach folded her arms around her body to keep the lab coat closed.

“Hey to you too. Since when do you work in the mornings. I mean are you just getting here or…wait what’s that smell?”

“There’s a lot of cars around. It could be a gas or something, you should go tell the guard.”

“No, it smells like sweaty leather and sex,” Daisy said. She sniffed the air, leaning in close to Peach. Peach leaned back in return. “Why do you smell like you’ve been having sex?”

Peach tightened her arms around herself, averting her eyes from Daisy’s gaze, until the phrama-rep reached out and poked her in the sides, just below the ribcage. She used to do this all of the time when they were in school. It was a surefire way to tickle Peach quickly and make her loosen up. The moment Peach’s arms jerked away, Daisy threw open her lab coat and gasped.

“Same shirt, shitty old scrubs! You and Mario?” Daisy asked before twirling in a quick circle like an excited puppy. “You and Mario!”

“This is why I didn’t tell you things had been…progressing,” Peach said.

“That’s not fair. I tell you about all the weird shit I get up to,” Daisy said.

“Yeah, you tell me too much, honestly.”

“Well now you’re going to spill it. We are going for breakfast cocktails right now and you’re going to spill it,” Daisy said latching on to Peach’s arm and closing her car door.

“It’s like seven in the morning and I have to get home,” Peach protested. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Oh please, I’m one of the top sales reps in the country, I make my own hours. Now come on, I know a bar that makes a mean omelette.”

#alternate au #hospital au #super mario #mario bros #princess peach #princess daisy #daisy #peach #mario fandom #mario fan fiction #fan fiction #adult fanfiction #fanfic #mario #mario and luigi #luigi

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brunhiddensmusings · 5 years ago

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year in review of parenting

thought i would try and record a few prime interactions ive had with my kids so i remember them as my 3 daughters are just so out there - daughter says shes interested in becoming an animator so i have to line up a list of animations on youtube i know were made by one person, including ‘no evil’ by betsy lee, dingo doodles sips and the karaoke of doom, ‘witches on tinder’, and piemations as examples of the kind of thing one person can reasonably do with a lot of dedication and if you pay close attention you can see how each of the animations are done differently - explaining what skaa was, twice - spending time at gamestop just discussion how some funko pops make sense and some are super dumb. makes sense funko pop would be one of the main characters of a movie thats well loved, dumb ones would be the same but for a movie literally nobody likes but funko pops were released before the movie was so they will never sell, or having 40+ differnt versions of rick and another 50 of morty. even having 15+ different batmans doesnt make sense because given the choice do you want orange batman or classic batman? - no i cannot go to your school to beat up the kid who was mean to you. i mean technically im physically able to but thats not the point - explaining what the music style ‘scat’ is and why its unrelated to the same word used to mean ‘wild animal poop’ - i dont know how to explain to you who freddie mercury is because were in a car and i cant show you a youtube of bohemian rhapsody while im driving - explaining why i am irritated at the kid friendly versions of classic horror monsters, they dont get it so i have to go into detail a- is the wolfman scary? like just a dude thats hairy? no. no he is not. however imagine that someone you know, and you dont know who, may at some point in time turn into a ravenous monster who will attack their friends ruthlessly, its already happened at least once so everyone is on edge wondering who it is. however, secretly it is you that is the monster, living in fear that you could loose control and kill the ones you love most b- the frankenstins monster, just a big green dude with bolts in his neck? scary? no, hes just a larger zombie basically. however imagine someone at college going nutty and then starts to raid the morgue, the cemetery, butcher shops, and surgery wards at hospitals for the human parts he stitches together into a rude parody of a human being and brings it to life. but it doesnt stop there, because he abandoned this new creature that thing now stalks him out of revenge, one by one killing everyone they know - the kids now understand why the majority of the classic monsters are supposed to be scary as balls - explaining COPPA to them because several youtubers we watch together have started loudly announcing ‘not for children’, at which they unprompted start complaining about a youtuber called ‘ryans world’ where a very annoying screaming child tells everyone to buy shit and is repeatedly recommended to them by the algorithm because it knows theyre kids. i should have taken that as a warning so i wasnt surprised at just how much ‘ryans world’ merchandise was in stores this year, like ye gods theres more of it then there was starwars and harry potter merch combined he has his own cereal which is apparently frootloops and disturbing plush animals. we agreed its weird when on his merch theres four different characters but the pink cat girl looks like she was made by someone different then the others because shes got way better detail - explain to kids that ‘green eggs and ham’ was made on a dare, which requires me to recite the whole thing for them to count that there are exactly 50 different words 5 year old- “wheres my sister” me- “in the bathroom, why” 5 year old- “imma hug her” me- “nn.... wow youre - 14 year old in the bathroom- “GAAH!” me- “-fast” - i can do a perfect impression of the ‘huhuhuhuh’ sound sans undertale makes - its been 3 years of me using the phrase ‘sans undertale’ specifically and my daughter who has spent the last 3 years dressing like him and listening to his music hasnt caught on that the way im phrasing it is in fact a joke - kids accidentally stumble uppon a history meme i was part of and i have to explain thats a thing i do - explain to kids what the emu war was - explain to kids who rasputin was - explain to the kids what the problem with hitler was, given the 11 year old is supposed to only get this in the school curriculum this next year i can understand why she was shocked. 14 year old was also shocked becuase she is in the between part of ‘we briefly touched on that war’ and ‘okay now that you are old enough we can explain how shoving people into ovens works’ - they asked, they really did, and only then do i realize that despite it being something everyone should definitely be aware of... figuring out how old and how to explain it really is a tricky matter cause ho-damn most adults get queasy when you explain it and im sure those kids had bad dreams for a week - theyre also aware of the trump concentration camps and were able to draw the connections real quick - pun contest - kid asks me to acquire a daft punk song for her so i can put it on her mp3 player, i have never heard of this song despite her spending 5 minutes describing it and how their eyes are freaky. have to explain to her that when i was about her age daft punk released an entire movie made of music videos. we have to show each other different daft punk videos to understand each other - no, daft punk are the robots, not the blue eye people. literally nobody knows what they look like under the helmets they even show up to music award shows wearing them. the helmets can actually make words and emotes theyre really rad songs we have erupted into together - spooky scary skeletons - narwhals narwhals - another irish drinking song - hubba hubba zoot zoot

#dad things #year in review #dorks

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writingsofadream · 6 years ago

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Masterpiece | Part II

Pairing : Yoongi x Reader

Story : He’s looking for heartbreak and inspiration, and you’re just looking for a new laptop.

Set during the writing and recording period of Love Yourself: Tear. Involves angst, fluff, and smut. Multiple chapter series. 5.9k words in this part :)

♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬

Staring at the stranger beside you indignantly, you couldn’t help but show your surprise at his words. This earns a smirk from him, which you can’t decide if you love or hate.

“I’ll buy it for you, Y/N. If you’ll let me buy you a coffee too.” His words follow the smirk just as confidently, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously. The dingy store’s owner gives a low whistle of disbelief, seemingly just as confused as you were.

“What’s your name?” You demand, crossing your arms to close the open air between your body and his. His hard, no doubt fit body…he certainly wasn’t chubby like the blonde guy.

“Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” At this, he extends his long-fingered hand to you, waiting for you to slip yours into his. Swallowing, you reach out and grip it lightly. His hand is cold, and smooth. His skin seems to electrocute yours, and after a moment in his firm grip you wrench your hand back.

“And why exactly are you buying me a laptop, Mr Min Yoongi?” You arch an eyebrow, pulling your arms back into a somewhat stern cross again. It feels childish and no doubt looks it too, judging by the amusement dancing in his deep, dark eyes.

“Because I’d like to interview you, and paying you for your time seems only natural. Plus, I have the money for it.” He throws the last sentence out like an easy addition, shrugging his shoulders naturally.

“Yea, I noticed the ring.” You scoffed at this, unable to hold it back at how ridiculous it was to be smug but not show your wealth until someone asked. What a…snob?

His jaw hardens and a sliver of the amusement drops from his eyes. Whoops. He breathes in deeply before addressing you again. The words that come back out sound no longer lighthearted, but annoyed.

“Look, take it or not, I don’t care. Just make your mind up. Either I buy it for you and get that interview, or I can pay for it and walk away with it. I was here first.” His gaze is intent on you, and you feel your cheeks become hotter with embarrassment. How did you always manage to make yourself seem like a fool, you thought to yourself quietly. No wonder you’d been single for over a year; you didn’t give off good girlfriend vibes, whatever the fuck they were.

“I’ll take it.” The words are out of your mouth before you can properly consider it, and once they were out they sat in the cold air of the shop. A smile crept across Yoongi’s face, and then the shop owner broke the thick silence.

“So, Yoongs, I’ll ring it up?” Yoongi nods to the man, and peers at you as though inspecting you. Feeling as though you’re compelled to say something, you clear your throat and thank him. He shrugs again, as though buying strangers laptops was something he did all the time. You were certain it wasn’t. Somehow, between his dark clothes, demeanour, and his steeled gaze, you didn’t pick him for the type of guy to hand out MacBooks like Oprah.

“Where are we having coffee?” You direct towards his shoulder, as he faces the machine to swipe his Platinum credit card. Without glancing back at you he answers, throwing the words over his shoulder in your general direction.

“Wherever you want, Y/N. My shout.” The last two words come out with a wink, and he tugs his card from the machine and faces you once again.

“Here you are, Y/N. I’m Chaen, by the way.” The store’s owner hands you the bag with your new laptop in it, a grin on his face though still obviously a little confused. Thanking him and promising to come back next time you needed anything electrical, you took the bag from his hands and made your way out of the store. Yoongi followed behind you, shaking the man’s hand as though they were good friends. Grabbing your raincoat from the stand, you pushed the heavy door open into the small alleyway. Noting the rain had stopped, you shoved it into the bag with the MacBook box. It was still overcast and chilly, so you were thankful for the warm jumper you’d been smart enough to pick out. Whipping around, you faced Yoongi and bit your lip. Where should you two even go? He seemed to be thinking the same thing as he stared at you, clearly waiting for you to voice your decision.

“The cat cafe.” Pleased with your decision, you attempt to throw a friendly smile his way, only to be met with a bemused one.

“A cat cafe?” He laughs. “I could’ve guessed, Y/N.”

___

Why had he invited her? Well, he supposed, she was as good as any person to ask. A pretty girl like her? Surely she’s had her heart broken by some obnoxious jock at least once in her lifetime. And if he wasn’t any good at the questions, it was only a loss of a few thousand won that he wouldn’t miss. Plus, he would know not to do any more of them. That’s what this is then, he decided. An experiment.

She sits across from him, a white and brown kitten on her lap. Sinking into her oversized lilac jumper, the kitten seems to be falling asleep, much to her delight. Looking down at the little animal and stroking its small ears with her delicate fingers, Yoongi feels something tighten in his chest. A strand of her hair falls into her eyes and she tucks the unruly piece back behind her ear. Looking up, she meets his eyes and he coughs in a not-so-subtle attempt to hide his blatant staring.

“So, what’s this interview anyway?” Her voice is pretty and light, and Yoongi thinks for a second before answering. He has to be careful with what he says, especially since she seems unaware of who he is. She’d been a little confused at being ushered to the back and tucked away in a little booth - luckily he’d managed to convince her the rest of the cafe was too loud to record properly.

“It’s for a project I’m doing. On heartbreak.” She cocks her head and furrows her brow a little at this.

“Oh…and they’ll just be a few questions, then?” Yoongi nods at her question, perhaps a little too enthusiastically as she scoots herself and the kitten towards the window. Shuffling over so she’s directly facing him again, he tries to set her mind at ease.

“I just need reliable answers and it won’t take that long. I promise.” She seems convinced, or just like she’s giving up. Settling back into the plush of the booth, she sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. Yoongi watches her, enthralled by the way her delicate collarbones peak out from the top of her jumper. She opens her eyes again, and his own jump back up to her face.

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans he pulls out his phone, opening the recording app and setting it in between them. Pressing the record button, he starts.

“So, Y/N, have you ever had your heart broken?”

He’s pulled his hoodie back, and you can see now that his hair is black and makes him even more fucking handsome. His question is calm and controlled as he watches you from across the small booth’s table. Nervously stroking the kitten in your lap, you paused before answering.

“No.” He doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his seat. As he does, his hands lay out on the table and his jumper is pulled up. Sitting on his wrist shines a Rolex, brand-new and gleaming. You instantly reach out to touch it, stopping yourself just before making contact.

“Is that a Rolex?” You ask, eyes wide. You hadn’t actually ever seen one in real life before, and no one you knew owned one, that was for sure. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure anyone bought them other than celebrities and business men with too much time on their hands…or rather, wrists. Definitely not dark, brooding guys like the one sitting across from you.

“Yea, it’s a Rolex. Says so on the face.” His smart-ass comment and smirk annoys you, and you pull your hand back quickly. He definitely was fond of smirking, you’d give him that. Frustratingly, it made him even more attractive.

“I can read.” Your retort sounds stupid as it leaves your mouth, and you regret it instantly. Hurriedly, you switch the conversation back to what it’s supposed to be about.

“Why heartbreak?” Your question seems to puzzle him, and his eyes leave yours to look out the window into the pouring rain. Outside, the trees swayed heavily with the weight of the wind, Seoul’s streets a mix of green, grey, and various lights shining through the haze. It was beautiful.

“Why not?” He’s turned his attention back to you now, resting his chin in his pale hand. It framed his face, and for a spilt second you wondered what they’d look like around your neck. Shaking the image from your mind, you motioned for him to explain.

“Love is a difficult emotion. That’s all.” He brushes it off nonchalantly, then turns the questioning back around.

“What do you do for a living? Between school, that is.” His question doesn’t seem to have anything to do with his chosen topic, but you answer it anyway. Lucky for him, you’re starting to feel a little more comfortable in the warm cafe. The kitten on your lap purrs softly, the hot hazelnut mocha relaxing you.

“I work at a cafe. It’s a little quaint, but it’s okay. It’s the best I can do for now.” Hoping he’ll leave your life at that, you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.

“Do you like working there?” His face seems genuine, and the question is natural enough. You shift slightly in your seat, and the kitten stirs.

“I do and I don’t. I guess it’s just one of those things.” The kitten bounces off your lap, and you pout a little as it prances across the cafe to a couple walking in from the rain.

“One of those things?” He really won’t give up, will he? You look down into your coffee, bringing it up to your lips for a quick reassuring sip.

“Yea. Life. Have to get money somehow.” He sips his coffee, which he took black, unsurprisingly. Setting it back on the wooden table, he licks the drink from his lips. You instinctively stare at his mouth, the way his tongue darts across the soft pink. Feeling a familiar warmth in your crotch, you bring your eyes swiftly back down to the brown beverage in your hands.

“I love what I do. Do you want to see?” You peer up at him. What the fuck? That probably wasn’t safe, right? Then again, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by his proposition. Besides, you had nothing better to do, and the man did buy you a MacBook.

“We can continue the interview there, if you like.” Your answer is greeted by a gummy smile, and he suddenly looks soft and inviting. Just as quickly as it appeared, though, it’s snatched away as he brings his mouth back to a smug, subtle smile.

“Cool. I’ll call a taxi.”

Why was he bringing her back to his studio? He had no fucking clue. As he paid the taxi driver and stepped out into the rain, he pulled his hoodie back onto his head. She reached into the MacBook bag for the scrunched-up raincoat, wrapping it around her body but leaving the hood down. Maybe she just didn’t care about how she looked, he thought, and the rain started to wet her hair. Grabbing her arm, he tugs her into the building. Unmarked, BigHit logos are nowhere to be seen. The company had agreed to keep it clear of anything that would bring attention to the building that held all their personal studios; that way they could work in peace, without the incessant fans and management. Keying in his personal code, the door swung open. The lobby inside was marble and modern, and he heard her gasp at the presentation of it. He hated it, to be honest. It felt cold and uninviting, though ironically people said the same about him.

Walking up to the elevator, he pressed the button to his studio’s floor. In fact, all the boys’ studios were on the same floor. It was a big fucking floor.

The silence in the elevator was palpable, but Yoongi simply felt like he didn’t know what to say. She was chewing her plump bottom lip, and between her slightly damp hair and delicate features he felt stumped on what to say. Usually he never wanted to say much at all, but now he kinda longed to say something to her. It’d be great if he just knew what to say.

He wasn’t sure why he’d suggested it, like the cafe, but he definitely wanted to show her what he did. That much was clear. He liked her sense of humour, her way of putting things. She seemed almost…whimsical.

The ping of the elevator jerked him from his thoughts, and he pointed out into the extending hallway.

“Those are a lot of rooms. Which ones is yours?” She looks at him, eyes wide at the length and breadth of the expensive-looking way ahead.

“Follow me.” He sounds smooth and his pitch is normal, thank god. For a second he thought he’d choke on his words looking into her eyes. He wanted to fuck her, dammit.

Walking into the room was a stark contrast from the marbled floors and walls of the rest of the building. It was unlit, save the grey light of the late afternoon rain shining in from an open window on the end wall. There was a couch, big enough to double as a bed pushed against one of the walls. The rest of the room contained computers, a keyboard, microphones, and a whole array of other recording devices you couldn’t even begin to guess at. The monitors were massive, and when Yoongi shook the mouse the screens displayed various softwares, all seeming to do with music. He ran a hand through his hair, then turned back to look at you. He looked almost nervous, as if searching for your approval, and you felt that feeling in your stomach again. Lit up in the grey, rainy light and the soft white of the screens, he was so good looking you thought you might pass out right there and then. Instead, you felt arousal prick at your body. Fuck. Trying to push it away, you finally spoke.

“You’re a musician?” His shoulders relax, and he leans back against the desk on a rare spot that isn’t covered in sheet music and other scribbles of paper.

“And a producer. I’m in a group.” He points at the small couch underneath the window. “Wanna finish the heartbreak and shit interview?”

“I hope it doesn’t involve literal shit.” The joke is bad and poorly timed, and you cringe at the bluntness of it. “Sorry, my jokes are…well, shit.”Surprisingly, he bursts out laughing. You join him, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders as the two of you fill the air with the sound.

“Nah, no shit.” He walks over to the couch, clearly amused. Plunking down, he pulls his phone back out again. As you sit down next to him, you accidentally read the top message on his screen as he turns it on and goes to lock it. It’s from some guy named Namjoon, and the only words you made out were ‘tear’ ‘soon’ and something about dinner with the guys tonight. Interesting, you thought. So this Yoongi guy apparently has at least two friends, Chaen and this Namjoon. And who were the rest of the guys? Before you could think more on it, though, he turned to face you.

“Can I propose we do something else instead?” He looks nervous again, but this time his eyes are…fixed. He knows what he wants. His stare runs through your whole body, and you push back a little further away from him.

“What do you suggest?” Your voice is barely a whisper as his eyes cut through you, trailing down from your face over your breasts and down to your hands in your lap. Bringing them back up, he stares at you intently from his spot just a metre away.

“I want to fuck you.”

Yea, he’d just said it out loud. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. Looking at her, watching her, showing her something so intimate to him. Her stupid little joke, her loud and shameless laugh. He wanted to fuck her, plain and simple. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a good fuck. It had been some girl from another idol group, and she’d been tight and compliant but…not quite what he’d needed. He’d booty called her a few times, sure, but things had ended once she’d figured out he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Of course he wasn’t looking for a fucking relationship, why the fuck would he?

You froze at his request, realising he said it in all seriousness. Shifting on your butt, you tried to push a little further away from him but your back hit the wall instantly. He spoke again, less intensely this time.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. It would just be sex, though. I’m not looking for anything, and don’t feel obliged because I paid for that laptop.” His words take a moment to sink in, you feel nothing but shock throughout your body. But then, something else creeps in. Those lingering feelings of attraction and lust all hit the critical points in your being. Basked in the grey of the rain, hearing it pour down outside, it mixes with the soft whirr of his computers and various electronics. Looking at Yoongi, wearing his black clothes with his black hair, his handsome face with a sensual expression. You couldn’t believe it. You were actually contemplating fucking him.

He seems unnerved by your silence, and moves back on the large couch.

“The back goes down and we can pull it out, so it’s like a bed. I sleep here sometimes.” His confession barely makes its way into your ears as you continually toss about his proposition. Over and over it whirls around in your head, but finally you start to think clearly. Why not? You hadn’t had sex in over a year, and this was one of the only days you hadn’t had class, study, or work in literally weeks. Why not take the opportunity, you thought.

Heart pounding in your chest, you bolted your body towards him, practically throwing yourself on top. Inches away from his face, you nodded fast before you could back out.

“Yes,” you heard yourself say, “I’ll fuck you.” There it was, that smirk of his. This time it was more implicit than the others, the presence of sex hiding behind it.

“Just this once.” You add with a rush at the end, just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas. He turns his smirk into a grin, then brings his smooth hand up to cup your face. His long fingers take a disobedient strand of hair, tucking it back into place with a calculated slowness to it.

“Works for me.” He gives you a dark wink, then suddenly his hand is gone from behind your ear. Your skin feels hot where he’s touched it, and despite any reservations you had you felt your panties become a little wetter. Dammit. Your body was almost betraying you.

Standing, he started clicking something on the side of the bed. You stood too, realising he was pulling it out so it could become an even larger bed. So you could fuck.

Pushing you back with one arm, he grabbed the underside of the furniture and tugged hard. It pulled back from the wall, the back falling to become the top of a bed. Clicking the buttons back into place, he then reached up into a higher cupboard to pull pillows down. Throwing them down onto the plush now-bed, he also pulls down a single white sheet.

In an instant, his lips are on yours. Kissing you hard, he places his hands on your hips and pushes you down onto the bed in a rush. Bouncing against the soft mattress, you both shimmy up to the top. He pushes a pillow under your head, still feverishly kissing you. He nipped playfully at your bottom lip, his hands now exploring up under your jumper. You could taste the coffee on his tongue, in his mouth, and no doubt he was tasting your hazelnut mocha. As he ran his tongue across yours you gasped a little, and he smirked against your mouth. You felt as though your whole body was on fire, particularly the spot between your legs. It felt like a distant, yet all-too-familiar ache.

He shifted his hard body above you, moving his top half off your body. Pulling off his hoodie, he threw it to the side with abandon. Coming back down, he supported himself with his elbow beside your head. You bit your lip, expecting more hard and rough coffee kisses. Instead, he slipped a hand between your thighs, meeting the denim of your cuffed blue jeans. He groaned a little, closing his eyes for a split second before rubbing a little harder, hard enough to meet your pussy through the fabric. Suppressing a soft moan, you bit your lip a little harder, tasting a small amount of blood in your mouth. Pulling his hand from your jeans and between your thighs, Yoongi reaches up and pulls your bottom lip out from your teeth.

“Take off your jeans, now.” The ‘now’ is said like an order, and a shiver of anticipation runs through your core. He rolls off you, sitting next to you patiently.

“Hurry up, Y/N.” That one was definitely said like an order. Unbuttoning your jeans with shaky hands, you pulled them off your body without a second thought. Throwing them to join his hoodie, he suddenly brings his body back on top of yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, hot breath in your ear tickling your senses. “You’re good at taking orders.” Fuck, his words ran from your ear straight down to your heat. His head comes back down, his lips pushing against yours again. Opening your mouth for him, the tip of his tongue curls around yours. Now, his free hand is running along your inner thigh, slowly making its way closer to your wetness. Each inch feels antagonising, and the closer he gets the more you feel as though you’ll explode without his touch.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His order is directed into your mouth, and you murmur back quietly.

“Touch me.” You don’t have to elaborate; Yoongi gets the message. His long fingers start to rub you through the thin fabric of your panties, and you moan against his swollen and wet lips. Through half-lidded eyes he brings his mouth from yours, his lust-filled eyes staring right into yours. It sends a twitch through your whole body, and he presses harder with his fingers. The pleasure is intense but manageable, just hard enough to feel good but not hard enough. He’s teasing you.

“Press against me.” He utters the words so lowly you could almost swear you’d imagined them if you hadn’t seen his soft lips shape out the words. Every nerve in your body is electric, tingling. Rolling your hips, you push harder against his hands and he rolls his fingers less gently. The pressing feeling becomes more intense, and you whimper against his touch.

“You’re so fucking hot.” His words are said roughly, and he latches his mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck. He sucks hard on the skin, and you can’t hold back the deep moan that comes up from your throat. The sensation of his sucking paired with the rubbing friction of his fingers pushing your panties against your clit bring you close to the edge, and you know he can sense it. His mouth leaves your skin with an audible pop, and he looks down at his handiwork with a gleam in his dark eyes.

“That’s gonna leave a mark.” You press harder against his hand, getting closer and closer to your peak. Slowly, he runs his hand away from your soaked panties and back down your inner thigh, and you let out a dissatisfied grunt. Dropping your hips back down to the mattress, you hum against his ear.

“Not gonna let me cum?” You’re bold, but you don’t care. You catch his lobe in your mouth, running your tongue over it and around his piercings. You hear his sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth, and his hand hovers over your inner thigh. Without warning, he slaps it. Not hard, but hard enough for you to bring your mouth away and yelp softly. He chuckles, nuzzling into your neck a pressing down a kiss.

“Not yet, baby.” His words vibrate against you, and he lets his teeth graze over your new hickey. Already turning a dark shade of purple, it was very…him.

He starts kissing his way down your body, making his way to your collarbones before grabbing the end of your jumper and pulling it up your torso. Arching yourself against the bed you lifted your arms up, allowing him to pull the jumper from your body. Beating him to it, you reached under yourself and unclasped your bra, pulling it off your arms and throwing it off somewhere onto the floor. He started down at your breasts, looking mesmerised and hungry. That tantalising smirk returns to his lips, and he wastes no time in latching his lips to your right nipple. Rolling the hard bud around with his tongue, he flicks at it and pulls the other with his hand. They’re erect at his movements, and he runs his tongue over your breast moving down to your stomach. Kissing past your navel, he reaches the line of your panties and breathes out softly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Hooking his index fingers into the waistband of your panties, you feel the cold of his silver ring against your skin. He pulls the fabric down slowly, and you close your eyes to savour the moment. Slipping them over your feet, you hear them join the rest of the clothes on the wooden floor. Daring to peak your eyes open, you look at Yoongi perched on the edge of the bed, looking directly at your pussy. His mouth was open a little, his eyes hazy, and his breath was long and deep. He glanced up at you, and you started to shut your legs.

His hands instantly grab your thighs, pushing them back apart. He winks at you, and chuckles lightly at your sudden display of modesty.

He pushes you further up the bed, and you adjust the pillow under you. Between your legs, Yoongi brings his mouth closer and closer to your wet and waiting cunt. Then, he licks you.

The wetness of his tongue brushing against your clit softly brings a moan up through your lips, and you press against him a little harder. He obliges, softly licking longer strokes until he’s passing over your hole with each one. Sucking on your clit, he brushes a finger against your opening, holding your right thigh back with his other hand. He starts to suck harder, and you mewl in pleasure at the feeling spreading from your lower half.

He slips one, long finger in, reaching his knuckle then curling up inside you. As he swipes your g-spot, you grip the white sheet hard in your fists. Arching your back, you push your pussy closer to him, begging him to give you what you need. The bastard grins before sucking hard, so hard you clit sends shockwaves through your body at the sensation. Locking your thighs around his head, you start to pant and let out a whispered curse as you feel yourself reaching towards your climax.

He slips another long finger in, stretching you a little as you realise how much you’ve missed the feeling of sex. And this was already the best fucking sex you’d ever had.

Slamming and curling his fingers inside you, Yoongi sucks relentlessly against your swollen clit. Like a champagne cork popping from a cold, fresh bottle into the air, you cum hard around his fingers. Pushing back against the sheet, you can’t stop the heavy flow of moans that leave your mouth as he continues to suck you gently through your orgasm. Curling your toes, your eyes roll back a little as you let it completely take over your whole body. Every inch of you feel intense, electric, dangerous.

As you come down from your high, he pulls his lips from your pussy and withdraws his fingers. You feel empty without them, but exhausted from the experience. Looking at him, you see your juices glistening wetly around his mouth and on his chin, Swiping with the back of his hand, he wipes it off, giving you a cheeky grin and looking down at you heatedly.

“Get on your hands and knees.” His voice is breathless but commanding, sultry-sounding to your ears. His black jeans are tight, his cock obviously swelling against the rough material. Seeing you staring, he cocks his head to the side with a smile.

Without a word, he slowly undoes the top button of the jeans. The zipper follows, the noise crisp in the air. Your breathing is still heavy, and you lick your lips at the sight of his bulging cock pressing against his black Calvins. He slips the jeans down first, and they pool down at his knees. Then, he teases you with a knowing look and he tugs down his underwear, his dick bouncing out. Holy. Shit.

Remembering his order, you flipped yourself onto all fours, pushing a pillow under your elbows. Feeling nothing, you look back over your shoulder at Yoongi. He’s pulling his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans, fishing a condom out of one of the compartments. Wishin a couple of heartbeats he chucks the wallet to the floor, ripping open the foiled packet. Staring, you felt yourself get even more turned on at the sight of him rolling it down his length, all the way to the base. Seeing you watching, he moved forward and grabbed your hips roughly, jolting you back. He slapped your ass, lightly.

“Can I slap your ass hard?” The question is new to you, something you’ve never really done with your exes. Without hesitating or thinking, you agree. You want it. You want it so fucking badly.

The slap to your ass stings, and you cry out a little but bounce back towards his cock. You hear the soft murmur of “fuck” escape his lips, and he smacks you again. This time is harder, enough to bring tears to the corners of your eyes. As if knowing this is enough, Yoongi runs himself along your soaked slit, making sure to rub over your abused clit. Grabbing the pillow hard, you push back against him in a desperate attempt to have him finally fill you.

Grabbing your ass cheeks and squeezing hard, he pulls your body back and buries himself in your pussy. Slamming in all the way to the hilt, you both exclaim loudly at the explicit feeling. You moan sensually, while he grunts deeply. He doesn’t take more than a second, knowing you can handle it, before he’s slamming in and out of you hard. The slapping sound of your bodies meeting fills the studio, matching your moans with each harsh thrust. Gripping your hips, his fingers dig into your flesh as you bounce against him.

“Holy…fuck” you manage to gasp out, your eyelids fluttering at the feelings rushing from your core. He takes a hand from your hip and grabs a handful of your hair instead, pulling you even further back. His pulling is light, and doesn’t hurt your skull, but it’s enough to encourage you to move back harder.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” His words are said through gritted teeth, and you realise you’re closer to your second orgasm than you thought. Whispering “me too” into the thick air, you feel him drop your hair as he brings his hand down on your ass, slapping it harder than the previous ones. The mix of pleasure and pain brings you right over the edge, without him needing to even brush against your clit. Clenching around him, you cum, screaming your release. He reaches under you and grabs a handful of your tit as he finishes, banging in and out of your trembling pussy as it clenches him tight. He starts to slow as he rides out the end of his own orgasm, breathing heavily. His long breaths continue as he pulls out of you, hopping off the end of the bed. You feel a tinge of sadness at the loss, almost wanting him to have stayed in you; even if only for a few more minutes. Collapsing against the bed, you flip over exhaustedly and prop yourself up on your elbows. He pulls the condom off, scrunching his nose up at the feeling. You hold back a giggle at the his sigh of annoyance towards the rubbery mess. Throwing it in the bin, he makes his way back to the bed, watching you with a fondness you assumed could be accounted to the satisfying sex you’d just had. He rummaged through the clothes on the floor, bringing up your jumper and his underwear. Sliding them back on, he tosses you your jumper.

“Just in case you didn’t feel comfortable staying naked.” He gives you a crooked smile and you return it, pulling the warm jumper back over your skin. You feel sore, your pussy stretched and your butt burning a little from his punishing slaps. You feel good, really fucking good.

He crawls up into the bed, lying next to you on one of the extra pillows. You both slip under the sheet without a word, facing each other in the soft glow of grey floating in through the window.

“It’s still pouring rain.” You say, hearing the drops falling outside in a calming torrent.

“It is.” he says, smiling at you with softer, less harsh eyes.

“Tell me more about yourself, Y/N.” Smiling and rolling your eyes at his predictable request, you snuggled deeper into the blanket, still facing him.

Looking at the girl he had just fucked, with her messy hair, her jumper slipping off her shoulder, the blanket tousled around her body, and her head resting into the soft pillow while she told him about her frustrating housemate and workmate, Yoongi could only muster up three words to sum up his state of mind.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

134 notes · View notes

mintyjin · 7 years ago

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royal au: im jaebum

i! don't! know! what! this! is! also everyone writes jaebum as a bad boy but im not buying it. he’s soft. his ideal date is eating ramen by a river, for gods sake. let the boy be soft.

jaebum is the youngest king in your kingdom’s history

and he hasn’t yet made himself look stupid or anything

which is pretty incredible considering how young he is

you’d think that he’d still be growing up, learning how to be the king his people need him to be

but he’s always impeccably composed… except for that one time he got mad at the senate and his chin grew two inches

to be fair, they were trying to cut funding to educational facilities

jaebum is silent and looks pretty intimidating, but he really does care about the people relying on him

he doesn’t care much for wearing any of the royal jewels

you’ll never catch him in a crown

but he does wear a few rings around his fingers and occasionally simple earrings will frame his face

and they look so good on him, but they also elaborate on the ‘rough around the edges’ look he has going

like, he’s a kind king who leaves his palace open to stray cats that need food and water, but he also looks like he would mess you up if you got into a fight with him

and you,,,, well, you’re not really sure what to make of him

but you were hired to paint his portrait, so... maybe you’ll figure it out?

to be honest, you’re not really sure why the palace decided to hire you, of all people

you’re just a young, aspiring artist who happens to live in the area

but it’s not like you were going to turn down a royal commission

you’re not crazy

shortly after you accepted the job, the palace sent a messenger to you with an envelope of money to fund your purchase of a canvas, paints, brushes, etc

but it was way more money than you needed

“um, should i just return the spare change?”

“no, the king insists you keep all of it”

you’re not complaining! money is nice!

so you do your job and find the best materials for the job

you always put your all into your work, but damn it y/n, you can not mess up even a little on this one

it has to be perfect. p e r f e c t.

and a few weeks later, you gather your materials in a bag, having already sent the canvas to the castle, and start the journey to the gates

you grab a danish on the way, the sweet pastry melting away some of your apprehensions

like what will the king be like? what if you make him mad? ahgdkhdsah

calm down, y/n, he’s dealt with more annoying people than you. he has to talk to senators on like, a daily basis

it’ll be fine

this will help your career so! much!

with that thought in your head, you come to the gates and state your name to a guard, who motions you inside

where a butler bows his head and asks you to follow him to the painting room

which is... definitely more grand than the usual places you paint in

your canvas is propped up in front of a plush chair facing a window

perfect! natural lighting! the palace knows its stuff!

the butler tells you that the king will arrive shortly, so you start to arrange your paints and brushes in a way that you can easily reach and see each one

you pull your hair back in a headband to be absolutely positive that you’re getting the best view of the king

as you steady your nerves once more with a few deep breaths, you hear the doors open and the sound of footsteps walking towards you

you turn and, upon seeing who it is, fall into a bow

when you come up, king jaebum is gazing at you without much expression in his face

so, off to a great start

“i’m y/n. i’m honored to have the opportunity to paint your portrait” you say, unsure of what else you could do

when he doesn’t respond, you offer a nervous smile

which softens something in his stare

“just don’t paint me on a horse, please”

and believe it or not, the smallest smirk is tugging at his lips

“roger that- no horses! actually, i was going to ask you to just sit on that chair and do whatever makes you comfortable. so, you could read a book or write or just look out the window if you wanted.”

and at first you’re kicking yourself for speaking so casually to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all

well... you are close to his age...... and it’s probably been a while since someone spoke to him like.... a person

“i’ll go with the window”

“alright! go ahead and sit, then, and i’ll adjust you if i need to”

and sure enough, when you go behind your canvas and look over his position, you decide to readjust

but instead of just telling him to move his head so that he was facing you a bit more and to hold his shoulder slightly off the seat like a normal person,

you walk over to him and lightly touch the side of his face to turn it towards your canvas

the butler clears his throat and you’re like woAH

“i’m sorry, i wasn’t thinking-”

“it’s fine” jaebum says, a small laugh escaping his lips

and heyheyhey he’s attractive as hell when he smiles

especially now that you’re so close to him

“....anyway, if you could hold you shoulder ever so slightly away from the chair and turn your head a bit more towards me- yes, exactly like that!”

and you start painting, unaware that between glances you take of him, the king takes his eyes off the window and watches you

the way you squint over the tiny details or shuffle around to get the right angle

how you brushed a piece of hair out of your face and unknowingly trailed just a tiny bit of green paint across your hairline

you’re... the most unique person he’s encountered in a long time

until two hours pass in this fashion and his butler announces that he has to get back to his more demanding royal duties

you finish up one last detail and step back, setting your brush on a table and bowing again to the king

“you don’t have to do that”

... what? did the king just tell you not to bow to him

he clears his throat a bit and elaborates “we’re going to be here for a week or so, so we may as well be friends.”

“i-i’m fine with that”

he smiles, his eyes squinting “then i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n”

it’s the first time he’s said your name and it feels like a shiver running slowly down your spine

oh no no y/n, you’re not developing a crush on the king, of all people. no nonononono

“you, too...”

“call me jaebum”

“i don’t think i shoul-”

“it’s an order”

and this time he’s not hiding his smirk or the mirth in his eyes

who knew the king was so mischievous?

“alright. jaebum”

he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your palm, his eyes never leaving yours

and just like that- as if he hadn’t just left you stunned- he turns on his heel and walks out of the room

well, as far as first days at new jobs go, this one wasn’t terrible

not even a little bit terrible

also... can any job be that bad when you get to stare at someone as attractive as the king.... jaebum... and get paid for it?? that’s a pretty sweet deal

and then you get home and see the green paint on your hairline

you’re like Oh MY GOD this has been the most embarrassing day of my life

but like... jaebum doesn’t understand why he can’t get you, with that little dab of green paint on your face, out of his head

or the way your touch had felt against his face, so feather light

it’s been a while since anyone had the courage to touch him so blatantly... it’s cute

and over the next few days, you gradually grow more accustomed to and comfortable with jaebum

when you call for a break, not only for you but for jaebum (sitting that still is hard, ok), he orders some tea and cookies and talks with you

and you’re bewildered as to how you ever thought he seemed intimidating

because yeah, he can seem cold from afar, with his intense stare and quieter nature

the way he stoically delivers orders to his subordinates

or how he still greets you with just a thin-lipped smile and a nod

but then he’ll like... miss his mouth when eating a tangerine and just kinda boop his chin

and then he’ll give the tangerine a little glare

as if it’s the fruit’s fault

or he’ll see you shiver in the cool palace air and ask one of the butlers to fetch a jacket for you

lately, he walks you to the palace gates when you’re done with your session for the day

and it’s then, in those quiet moments to yourselves with no butlers around, that you get him to laugh and smile like he means it

once, you picked a dandelion and blew all the seeds into his face

“oops” you said, smiling

he blinked at you, breaking into a smile, himself

“did you at least make a wish?”

“a wish?”

“aren’t you supposed to make a wish when you blow those things away?”

the tips of his ears turned red

“i did make a wish, actually”

“what was it?”

“well, i can’t tell you! then it won't come true”

“i’m the king, i’m sure i could help it come true”

“it’s magic! you can’t mess with it! everyone knows that”

you bend down to pick another dandelion, handing it to jaebum “here, make your own wish”

he laughs “you want me to make a wish?”

“well, you’re the youngest king we’ve ever had- that’s got to be stressful. you might as well get to wish for a day off or a vacation or, i don’t know, maybe you just want me to finish that portrait already”

at that, he looks at you, a curious expression on his face “i don’t want you to finish it”

“what, never?”

he doesn’t answer, instead blowing the dandelion seeds into the air and takes a step towards you

and for a second you imagine his kiss against your lips, his hands roaming

how his hair would feel between your fingers

but then he takes your hand and kisses the back like he always does

“tomorrow, y/n”

“... right”

the next day, everything went how it usually did

jaebum sat, looking regal, and you painted him

you were nearly done, actually. probably only needed another session or two and you’d be done

you were going to miss it, if you were being honest

jaebum turned out to be a part of your day that you looked forward to

and now... would you ever talk to him again?

at the end of the session, jaebum ushered his butler out of the room with a telling glance and approached you

he was silent for a second, his tongue probing the corner of his mouth

“y/n- the palace is hosting a gala to honor a visiting diplomat next week. will you come?”

“oh! i’d be honored to attend!”

“to be clear, i was asking if you would attend at my side”

“oh,”

“if you don’t want to, that-”

“i do, i do! and i will! go with you, i mean” you clarify, flustered

jaebum bites his lip, obviously trying to hold back a smile

“ah, good, i was hoping you’d say that”

but you have to know if this means what you think it means

“why me, though? not that im not excited-”

“i like you, y/n”

and now you’re really smiling, a blush dusting your cheeks

“ah, good,” you mimic his statement from earlier “i was hoping you’d say that”

he laughs, taking your hand to lay a kiss on it like he always does

but afterwards, instead of dropping your hand, he leans forward

and you can smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body and woooah boy

he tilts your head so that he’s looking into your eyes and your lips are practically aching with the thought of what could happen

he leans down so that his lips are brushing your ears

and he speaks, his voice low

“you’ve got paint on your face”

you pull back a bit, shocked, your hand flying up to find it

jaebum laughs, his hands pulling you back to him

“it’s right.... here”

and then he kisses your forehead

“tomorrow, y/n?”

“tomorrow.”

and you can’t wait.

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landofsomethingsomething · 7 years ago

Note

ooo how about john trying to pull a prank on roxy but she either catches him in the act or pranks him back since shes been bffsies with jane for years and nothing surprises her anymore

Roxy woke to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand. Half awake and grumbling to herself, she flipped over onto her back, reached blindly out with one arm, and flopped her hand around like a dying fish until it connected with something hard and square and probably her phone. Somewhere nearby her on the bed, an indignant cat meowed a rebuke, and there was a distinct thud as the jostled animal fled. Roxy called out an apology to the affronted cat and simultaneously unlocked her phone with a quick swipe, held it up before her squinting eyes, and frowned.

One notification, from John. A simple text containing one ominous emoji: 🎭.

So. It was gonna be that kind of day, then.

She didn’t bother to reply, but she did open it up so it’d mark as read on his end. Stew in that one for awhile, Egbert. She tossed her phone beside her on the bed, sat up, and stretched. Let’s do this, she thought, grinning. Another cat peered in from the bedroom door, green eyes blinking slowly. Roxy blinked slowly back.

Phase one was easy; bedroom to bathroom. She kicked off the covers and swung her legs over the bed – and hopped lightly over the waiting tub of sopor slime plunked down on the floor, right where she’d normally be standing. No sweat. She took three steps toward the bathroom, ducked without even bothering to look, and easily cleared a roll of transparent plastic wrap fastened expertly between her vanity mirror and an old wizard clock taller than she was. Her favorite slippers (cats, of course) were discarded on the bathroom floor, kicked off before bed last night, and she bent and picked them up and carefully shook them out one by one.

Nothing. She frowned, quirking an eyebrow. Bullshit.

She felt around the plush soles, and – “Hah!” A telltale square chip, slid into the padding. She fished it out with a finger, shaking her head. “Got you,” she muttered, peering curiously at it. She pressed it between her fingers just to see what it would do.

The answer, apparently, was emit a pressure-trigged garbled tinny mishmash of meowing sounds through a miniscule speaker. Perfect. Laughing, she pocketed the device and continued to the toilet. Seat down. Suspicious. Behind her, a cat pranced into the room, eagerly anticipating its early morning toilet scritches.

She went to one knee. With one hand, she gave the confused kitty the scritches it had come for, and with the other, she lifted the toilet seat, cringing back – but nothing happened. She examined every inch of the porcelain throne and found absolutely nothing, and in fact, was about to just go ahead and do her damn business already, when she thought to check the fucking toilet paper.

Tinfoil. Not a tinfoil covered roll of toilet paper, oh no. Just a goddamn toilet paper shaped roll of tinfoil. She snorted. Went to the cabinet to pull a fresh one out. Found six more tinfoil toilet papers. Muttered a few choice oaths under her breath.

Whatever. Who didn’t piss in the shower every once in awhile? He’d love hearing all about it, next time he was over in the morning. She pulled the tinfoil roll still up by the toilet out a bit and crinkled it, and Mr. Morning Bathroom Scritches happily took the bait, pawing at it.

To the shower. She saw the device on the head plainly – he didn’t even try to hide it. Curious, she turned the water on just to see what would happen.

Pink water shot out. Food dye? Probably. The little bastard had probably filled her hair shit with it, too. It was almost tempting to just use it – who had a problem with pink hair? But the truth was, she didn’t trust John’s choice of dye material. Besides, this shit was meant to turn all of her pink, obviously, not just the hair.

– Actually, she was kind of tempted to just let that happen, too.

Maybe later.

She disabled the food coloring (or whatever) device and took a quick shower – and a long piss – and remembered at the last second to check the towels before yanking one off the rack.

She lifted the edge of one, gingerly.

It stained her fingertips pink.

She laughed.

The towel itself was already pink, of course, that was its natural state… all the easier to hide whatever the fuck this pink powder was all over it. And they were all like that, of course. Naturally.

She stood in front of the mirror and resolved to air dry. It wasn’t that cold, anyway. Nothing in the hairbrush, but the blow dryer had what looked like the dessicated remains of a feather duster shoved up the barrel, so she set that down for another day. She’d make his enterprising ass pick them all out, later. Only fair.

Back out and back under the wall of cellophane, and off to face the wardrobe.

As it turned out, all her clothes were gone. Except her favorite dress. Which also happened to be his favorite dress. Which was a damn good dress, for like, a date. Not that it was horribly indecent – John wasn’t that kind of guy, which was usually charming – it was just, you know. Sequins. Ruffles. Showy.

“I guess,” she said, pulling it off the hanger, “In Egbert land, prank day counts as a special occasion.”

Another cat wound itself around her ankles, purring agreement.

By the time she retrieved her phone, she had three more messages. Two were from John – the same emoji as before, but in greater numbers – and the third was Jane. Roxy opened that one eagerly.

GG: Miss Roxy. GG: Might I inquire why, on this lovely spring morning, all of the clothing in my closet has been joined by what I can only describe as the most Roxy-like attire I have ever seen? TG: i would invite uTG: on this lovely spring morningTG: to ask ur fuckin son about that cause i guarantee you at this point he knows more than me GG: Oh my. GG: Prank day? TG: he was gonna turn me pink janeTG: pink from head to toeTG: pink dye pink powder and also he put a meow speaker in my meowcat slippersTG: might keep that one tbhTG: its p cuteGG: I gather from your phrasing that his dastardly efforts have been thus far unsuccessful. TG: hmmTG: actually not sure if i can trust you on thisGG: Roxy! TG: prank day is kind of an egbert AND crocker thing and u know thisGG: I cannot believe you would accuse me, your best friend, of collaborating with John to turn you pink. TG: the clothes ARE in your wardrobe apparentlyGG: And if I was in on this, why would I tell you so? TG: fuckTG: uhhhTG: idk but im sure theres a reasonTG: plots within plotsTG: wheels within wheelsTG: cats within catsTG: sec i gotta scritch a cat right fuckin nowGG: Of course. GG: Well. Since I am apparently suspect, I shall leave you to face your trials in peace. Please pick up these clothes in at least a halfway timely fashion, if you please. Closet space is an asset to be cherished, thank you very much. TG: pfft TG: u got like 15 closets all to yourself dont give me thatGG: Even so. TG: alright okayTG: if i survive this ill be by later maybeTG: maybe tomorrowTG: depends ;)GG: Not another word. GG: Tomorrow will be fine. Thank you. GG: And remember what I taught you. TG: he aint got me yetGG: Good.

She pocketed her phone, checked her shoes five times for hidden gimmicks, found nothing, and sidestepped three buckets of glitter assembled above three separate doorways on her way out. He’d be cleaning all that up later, too, along with any cats who happened to inadvertently roll around in the glitter piles.

… After she took pictures.

The front door seemed strangely bereft of mischievous devices, and having found nothing, it was with some trepidation that she turned the knob and pushed the door open, squinting out into the daylight.

A series of loud pops and flashes nearly blinded her, as apparently an entire newsroom’s worth of photographers got to work snapping pictures. She recovered herself quickly – of course she did – and turned the arm she’d thrown up over her eyes into a dramatic wave, instead, swaying her hips as she descended the steps. The effect, she thought, was only magnified by the entourage of bounding cats spilling out around her.

“Are you serious!” John’s voice in the crowd, and then John himself, hovering up above it, arms crossed. “Not a single one?”

She waved her phone at him. “Not a one, and Janey’s already spilled the beans on where the clothes are, so you don’t even get to lord that one over me this time around.”

The cameras weren’t stopping – probably because the two of them were famous gods and the tabloids fuckin’ loved them, but whatever. She leapt up into the air and lunged after John, who made a not very sincere attempt to lunge away, only to be yanked back by Roxy’s fist bunched up in the back of his shirt. She spun him around in the air, laughing.

“What’s with all the pink, anyhow?” She elbowed him, and he caught her arm, trapping it in his. “First Jake with the blue, now you with the pink, is this kinda fetish a genetic thing I should know about?”

He wrinkled his nose – it was fucking adorable, actually – and stuck his tongue out at her. “It’s not like that,” he insisted. He was lifting her higher, high enough that the sound of the cameras was fading off into nothing. The boy did love to fly. She followed him up, smirking. “I was trying to pick something obnoxious, that you would hate, but also that you would secretly kind of like.”

“Pink kinda is my color,” she conceded.

“Exactly!”

“I liked the slippers.” She slipped the chip out of her pocket, holding it up. John laughed.

“Dirk made that just for you,” he said. “He said you’d find it, though. Guess he was right.”

She pressed the panel down and the tiny speaker erupted in heavily compressed meow-sounds, mingling with the wind. They were far, far up, now, with damp little wispy cloud trails swirling around them. “Hells of cute,” she said, waving it under his nose. He laughed and slipped an arm around her and shot up through the clouds, pulling her with him. It should have been cold up here, especially in the damn dress she was wearing, but godhood came with a number of pretty good perks.

“Tell you what,” she said, grinning, and he looked back at her curiously, eyebrows shooting up. “One day I’m gonna get you so good, you never try any of this prank day shit on me again.”

He scoffed at her. “Yeah right. That’s what they all say.”

She stopped cold in the air, and he drifted to a stop a few seconds later, looking down at her, hands on his hips. Curls of cloud stuff danced between them. Roxy grinned devlishly at him, darted forward, and –

“Hey!” John gasped, as she shot past and grabbed his legs, turning him over in the air. He reached up to grab her, missed, and she worked his shoes off with ease. “Knock it off!” He kicked at her, socked feet far too slow to actually connect, and she laughed a wild laugh and shoved him forward, somersaulting him in the air. “This is not a prank!” he insisted, righting himself and huffing at her, cheeks red. “It doesn’t count! Give me back those shoes.”

“Not a chance,” she said, sweetly, dropping them. He gasped, and predicably, he dove for them. Simultaneously, Roxy dove for him.

She caught him by the waistband as he went darting by, and momentum did the rest. He made an absolutely hilarious yelping sound, gave up on catching his shoes, and spun upward to witness her hovering above him, waving his pants in one hand like a flag.

“Roxy!” He shouted, flushing crimson. “Give those back, come on! This is not how pranking works!”

“Says you,” Roxy said, blowing him a kiss. “See you later! And remember: I love you very much.”

“Roxy, wait –”

He shot for her, but she was already gone, pants in hand, in a rush of wind and void. She laughed uproariously as the blue and white folded around her and changed abruptly to starry black.

Sucker.

#roxy lalonde #john egbert #jane crocker #roxygen #johnroxy #text #asks #op #Anonymous #ficlet

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prepare4trouble · 8 years ago

Text

Star Wars Rebels Fanfic - No Worse Than Before (But Now You Know) (3)

Little By Little AU

Taking a little break from Hera to catch up on what Ezra’s doing. Spoiler alert? He’s not been doing much.

part 1 | part 2

On any other day, Ezra might have been enjoying the feeling of having nothing to do; it was a rare luxury to get a few hours to sit around doing nothing at all without having to feel guilty about others picking up the slack. Today was different. Today, having nothing to do gave his mind the opportunity to spin back and forth, replaying the conversation from earlier in the day, watching Hera’s reaction, over and over again.

Next time he had to have that particular conversation, he was going to make sure he had some mindless, menial task lined up for afterwards. That way he could disappear and lose himself in it, not think about anything for a while.

Of course, when it came down to it, the chances were pretty good that he would find himself right back here anyway, not doing anything. The last thing he felt like doing right now was work, even if he did think it might help.

He reached into the closet and pulled out the loth-cat plush given to him by Noisi, then climbed the ladder up to his bed. It was so soft; his fingers glided easily over the silky synthetic fur, and as he held it, it somehow appeared to grow warm, absorbing the heat from his own body until it felt almost as though he was petting a living, breathing creature. It looked perfect too, right down to the glass eyes that almost appeared to hold life behind them.

It was too soft, though. A real loth-cat only felt that soft as a kitten; once it grew to adulthood on the streets and on the grass plains of Lothal, its fur grew coarser and more wiry. This was a children’s toy, and that was why it was so embarrassing that this was the third time he had reached for it for comfort. He kept it hidden to avoid awkward questions or, more likely, mocking laughter from Zeb, but while Zeb was away, he could allow himself that.

Stupid droid. Why did it have to have come from him?

He held the toy a little tighter, and lay down on his side, staring out into the room but looking at nothing. His hands unconsciously worked at smoothing the already impossibly smooth fur. It didn’t help, not with the problem itself, not even with making him feel better about it. But it made him feel better in general. Even if just for a few moments.

Stupid droid.

The door opened unexpectedly. Ezra jumped in surprise, instinctively throwing the loth-cat behind his back and sitting up, adopting an nonchalant expression. Nothing to see here, certainly not Ezra lying on his bed hugging a toy. He relaxed incrementally when he realized that it was Kanan standing just outside his door. Well, at least he knew he hadn’t seen the loth-cat. Of course, there was a good chance that Kanan would have known what he was doing from outside the room, and probably sensed the panicked attempt to hide it too.

He shuffled back slightly, adopting a more comfortable position with the toy still behind him; pulling it out again now would be too conspicuous anyway. "Oh, uh… Hey, Kanan.“

Kanan stepped inside the room, and waited for the door to close behind him before he responded.

He wasn’t wearing his mask, and although with the damage to his eyes it was difficult to see the exact direction of their gaze, they were open and, Ezra was sure, aimed right at him. Or, maybe a little to his left, but the effect was the same. “How are you doing?”

Ezra gave the question some serious thought. He wasn’t sure. He could feel the soft form of the loth-cat plush pressing into his lower back, and he was certain that Kanan knew it was there. He didn’t care. Except for that he did.

“Ezra?” Kanan asked.

He took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. “I’m fine,” he said.

Kanan looked unconvinced. Well, that was understandable; he was lying through his teeth, after all.

“Better, I guess,” he amended. “Than before, I mean. Not better better, but…” At least it was done now. At least it wasn’t hanging over his head. Of course, on the flip side of the coin, it was done now, and Hera knew. Everything had changed after Kanan knew, everything was going to change even more now. But it had needed to be done, and now it was, and that had to be a good thing, right?

Right?

Kanan nodded, as though he was agreeing with the thoughts in his head. It wasn’t that, of course. Kanan could do a lot, but he couldn’t do that. A fact for which Ezra was eternally grateful.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Ezra asked.

Kanan took a step closer. “With Hera,” he said. “She had some questions, things she needed to talk about. Which you would have known if you hadn’t decided to disappear without telling anybody.”

He had known. That was part of the reason why he had left. That, and he had reached the point where he didn’t think he could take any more. The important bit was over and done with, he hadn’t needed to be there for the rest. “Wait, disappeared? Does that mean I managed to get out of there without you noticing?” He grinned at the achievement, but it faded quickly. Getting past Kanan was impressive, but on the other hand, what hope did Ezra have, if it was so easy to do that with someone as skilled as Kanan?

“Neither of us noticed,” Kanan told him. “In our defense, we were both a little distracted.”

Ezra smiled again despite himself. Kanan took the last couple of steps, turned and sat down on Zeb’s bunk, below Ezra.

‘So, what did Hera say?“ he asked. "After I left, I mean.”

Kanan sighed deeply. “She’s…upset.”

That much he had known. That much he would have been able to assume even if he hadn’t been in the room at all, but the tears hadn’t gone unnoticed. She hadn’t even tried to hide them, not really. He had a feeling that that was going to be one of the worst things about this whole experience — well, other than the obvious, of course — being responsible for other people’s pain. Because he was responsible, even if he had been given no choice in the matter.

He reached for the loth-cat again; the fact that Kanan was no longer standing in a position where he would have been able to see him made a difference, apparently. He placed it against his chest and squeezed it tightly with both arms, the soft fur tickled the skin of his lower face. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t see Kanan from where he was. His position, seated on the bunk below, shielded him from Ezra’s view, unless he decided to turn upside down and peer at him over the edge of his bed. He had been known to do that from time to time, with Zeb, but mostly not for any practical reason; just to be silly. He didn’t feel like being silly right now, and Kanan wouldn’t be able to see it anyway.

Still, it was uncomfortable having a conversation with somebody he couldn’t see. He couldn’t decide whether that was something he had always felt, or a more recent development. If he had the energy, he would have climbed down from the bunk, but he didn’t, so he stayed put.

He was going to have to get used to that particular discomfort sooner or later, anyway.

“But what did she say?” he asked, after waiting an appropriate amount of time for Kanan to expand on his response.

Kanan hesitated before answering. “Nothing im…” He stopped. “The thing about Hera,” he said, “it’s not what she says that matters, it’s what she does.”

Ezra thought about that for a moment, but he wasn’t sure what exactly Kanan was getting at. Did he want him to ask? He loosened his grip on the loth-cat slightly as curiosity overrode his desire for comfort. “What did she do?”

“Nothing. Well, she… we… went to visit the med droid; she wanted more information.”

That… felt like a violation, somehow. If it had been anybody else, he would have been angry about that. As it was Hera… “Why didn’t she just ask me?”

“You? As in the person who had disappeared because he didn’t want to talk about it?”

“Or you?”

Kanan sighed again, and Ezra thought he could imagine the expression on his face — just irritated enough that it showed. “It’s not exactly my area of expertise. She’s looking for things that she can do to help.”

Ezra slumped slightly; if she had really thought there might be something, she would have been disappointed at what she discovered. His fingertips brushed the soft fur of the loth-cat’s head. “So, when she figured out there was nothing she could do..?”

Kanan didn’t respond for a moment; through the Force, Ezra detected the slightest hint of confusion from him, but it faded almost instantly as he understood the meaning behind Ezra’s words. “I didn’t mean… she wasn’t looking for a cure, she understands that. She wanted to find out what she could to to make things easier.”

He remembered that from before, from Kanan’s injury; the new rules she had instigated, keep the ship clear of any and all clutter, everything goes back in its proper place so that Kanan can find it, if Kanan needs help with something, help him without drawing attention to it. All that would be relevant one day, he supposed, but for now he didn’t want help, and he was okay with a little disorganization. He welcomed it, actually.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Magnifying glasses, large print, adaptive technology, stuff like that I guess.”

Right. Yeah, Kanan was right, definitely not his area of expertise. “Great,” he said. He hadn’t really meant to sound enthusiastic, but his tone of voice came out even more downcast than he had intended.

“It will help,” Kanan assured him. “The thing with Hera is, she doesn’t like to be powerless. I know nobody does, but she… if she can’t fix a problem, she has to find something to do to try to make it better. It’s how she copes.”

Ezra sighed. Whatever she was going to come up with, he would try it. He was already increasing the font size on his datapads, the idea of peering at something that he couldn’t alter through a magnifying glass was excruciating, but given the choice between that and not seeing it at all, it might be the least worst option. Anyway, Hera was nothing if not resourceful, she could probably come up with something better than that. Kanan was just guessing, after all.

“You… might find she acts differently around you now,” Kanan added.

Yeah, that was going to be a thing with everybody; tiptoeing around him, watching their words, feeling sorry for him. He remembered seeing it with Kanan, now he was going to experience it from another angle. Subconsciously, he increased the speed of his hand stroking the loth-cat.

“Not like that,” Kanan said, appearing to read his thoughts again, but more likely filling in the gaps between what he could sense of Ezra’s emotions through the Force. “But she did change the way she acted around me. She… well, it’s not important right now. The point is, it helped. Most of the time. The rest… if it gets too much, you need to tell her.”

Ezra released his grip on the loth-cat and pushed it to the back of the bed. He shuffled forward slightly, allowing his legs around to hang over the edge of the bed, just next to Kanan’s left shoulder. Looking down, he could see him from above. Kanan sat facing out into the room, as though talking to an invisible someone. Which he was, in a way.

“What did she do?” he asked.

Kanan shrugged. “At first, she would talk. She told me everything, narrated it; what she was doing, the expressions on her own face, the weather, the color of the sky.” What little Ezra could see of Kanan’s expression appeared to be far away, lost in the past. “She touched me more, held my hand, touched my shoulder… like she wanted me to know she was there, like she thought I might forget because I couldn’t see her.”

“But you wouldn’t,” Ezra said, unnecessarily.

“No.” Kanan smiled. He couldn’t see it from where he sat above him, but he heard it in his voice. “But it helped her.”

Ezra couldn’t think of anything to say to that. He reached for the loth-cat again, hesitated, and then left it where it was.

“Come on,” Kanan said. He got to his feet and waited.

Ezra looked at him, puzzled. “Come on… where?”

Kanan shrugged. “Not sure yet, but anywhere is better than sitting around here with…” The loth-cat. “Your thoughts for company. Let’s take a walk.”

He thought about it, seriously considered the offer, and decided against it. You didn’t take a walk with someone without talking, and any talk at the moment would necessarily come back to… that. Plus, there were any number of people out there that he considered friends; people that might come over to chat, and he wasn’t in the mood for that kind of a talk either. Interacting with anybody at all felt like it might be a bad idea right now.

He shook his head. “Thanks, but I have some stuff I should be doing.”

It was a lie, of course. He wished he had something to do. That way at least he could feel bad about sitting there for hours.

Kanan turned to face him. “What stuff?”

“Uh…” honestly, he had expected Kanan to let that go.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay, it doesn’t have to be a walk, but there’s no point wasting time, we might as well get some sparring practice in.”

He was trying to give him something to do, something to take his mind off things, some easy task, just physical enough to be tiring, just taxing enough that he had to concentrate on that instead, just easy enough that he would still be able to do it after the events of the day. “I know what you’re doing,” he said.

Kanan smiled. “You do? Great. Come on then.”

Ezra gave a mental sigh, and pushed off from the top bunk, landing easily on the floor below. Kanan didn’t wait for him as he turned back to the door and walked away, leaving Ezra trailing behind him.

(part 4)

#little by little #star wars rebels #swr fanfiction #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #comments are love

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