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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years

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Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 25:

You blinked blearily, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

For a minute you were disoriented, head spinning in confusion until you pieced together where you were. Who’s apartment you were in. Who was currently still fast asleep in your lap.

You flushed, still just as affected by his proximity as you were earlier. Except- it was slightly different now. Those little kitten snores? The ones you’d previously only heard over the phone? Well, now they were falling from his mouth in real time- in real life. In front of you. He was so close and warm and soft and uncharacteristically quiet and all you wanted to do was kiss him.

The past few days, you’d been so focused on how he’d lied and his injuries that you’d almost forgotten just how much you liked him. You couldn’t forget now. Not with the way he had a hand under his cheek, fingers just barely curling your sweatshirt in his sleepy grip.

Your fingers itched with the need to touch him- to somehow expel all that rolling fondness and affection that was boiling over in you. You couldn’t help yourself, your fingers beginning to once again move lightly through his hair, scratching idly at his scalp as you went.

You knew he’d be mad at your actions if he was awake- or flustered and embarrassed at the very least. But you just wanted to be nice to him. To show him how much you cared about him, and you were determined to do that- even if he seemed absolutely allergic to it.

So you sat and stared shamelessly and soaked up the proximity and warmth radiating off his body. And it was perfect and serene and so sugary sweet for a while- until you realized how much your legs hurt.

They hurt and ached and were sore because Katsuki was heavy.

Absurdly heavy.

And the thing about him was, you were only supporting his head and his shoulders! On your legs too- not even your arms! Even so though, the honest to god weight of him was just ridiculous. He was a solid mass of nothing but strength and power and, quite frankly, ludicrous musculature. And if he wasn’t murdering your legs right now, and not in the fun way, you’re absolutely sure you’d be much more thrilled about these facts.

As it stands now though, nothing but an escape plan was on your mind. Even if the rest of you was only screaming to pull him closer.

“Katsuki.” You tried once more, prodding at his cheek lightly. “Katsuki, c’mon-time to get up.”

He had no reaction. Not even an eye twitch when you ghosted your hands over his face. In all honesty it seemed like he was dead. His breathing was so deep and slow it was almost non-existant and when you called him name, no matter how many times you said it, there wasn’t even a mumble- now whether that was effect of the pain meds or just him ignoring you, you had no idea.

Sighing with finality, and a genuine apology, you lifted his head. It was a struggle, and his unresponsiveness surely didn’t help, but eventually you escaped. You slipped a pillow under his head, patted his cheek fondly, and left towards his kitchen.

Now, was the easy part. Or was supposed to be the easy part- but considering this was Katsuki you should’ve known better.

His fridge was packed to the brim, overflowing with ingredients, but they were all ridiculous health foods. You wanted familiarity and comfort and grease- not green. Not the terrible, bitter, dark green vegetables that seemed to be the only thing he had.

What kind of guy doesn’t have junk food? You thought, shaking your head in utter disbelief. And he tells me I’m the weird one?

With a sigh, you begin rifling through the drawers for something at least a bit fattening, and you can’t kid yourself, it does soothe that itch from earlier. That weird, tingling, constant itch to pick apart every little detail and mix and match them together until you knew every possible thing about Bakugou there was to know. Until you knew things about him that no one else did- until you knew him better than he even knew himself.

And maybe that was selfish, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care all that much. If talking to him, knowing him was intoxicating before, just over the phone, than it was an addiction now. Here in this apartment, surrounded entirely by pieces of him, Katsuki felt real. He felt tangible and honest and complete, and you’d never be satisfied with just texts and phone calls again.

Grinning widely, you grabbed the blocks of cheese, and a few different freshly-cut herbs. Inspiration had struck, and within the weirdly hearty contents of his refridgerator lied your saving grace.

Grilled cheese- because at the end of the day, you were a child through and through.

Gathering the rest of the ingredients, and searching for a pan, you couldn’t contain the warmth in your chest. Not only were you going to be eating good food, but you were sharing it. With your soulmate. It was a weird little bit of domesticity, preparing a meal for him, but you couldn’t say you hated it.

Apparently, you’d made too much noise with the pan, because suddenly you hear shuffling. Glancing behind you, Katsuki is grumbling under his breath as he clambers into the kitchen. He’s all loose limbs and sleepy grunts, grumpily throwing himself down into a seat at the counter, just a few feet away from you.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sunshine, could you be any goddamn louder?”

You’re not sure if it’s the combination of the nickname and his crackling sleep-laden voice, or maybe it’s the way his cheeks are stil warmed from sleep, but you melt. Practically dissolve into the floor beneath you. That feeling- that aching one from earlier where all you wanted to do was kiss him silly? Yeah, it’s back now. Back in full-force and unleashing a hellish barrage of butterflies in your stomach.

“Nothin’ to say? Yeah. Thought so. Idiot.” He barks.

“Not a morning person?” You recover, quickly turning back to the stove. Hopefully it’ll cover up the absolute hearts you currently had for eyes.

“It’s 8 PM.”

“It was a joke, angry man.” You laugh. Turning back, you sneak a glance at him, completely unable to help yourself. “Don’t be so grumpy.”

“I’m not fuckin’ grumpy.”

Bakugou mumbles it so quietly and petulantly that you almost can’t hold back your squeal. There he is, just feet away, currently holding the title for World’s Most Adorable Pout and you couldn’t do anything!

Well, maybe you could- if you were bolder and stronger. But you weren’t. Right now you felt weak.

“You could just go back to sleep, you know.” You finally say.

“And let ya fuck up my kitchen unsupervised?” He yawns widely, rubbing at his eyes. “No fuckin’ thanks.”

“It’s only grilled cheese, I think I’ll manage.”

“Grilled cheese? Am I five or some shit?”

“No- but I am. And it’s what I’m making.” You supplied, an easy smile gracing your lips. “So it’s either you have one too, or you starve to death. Your choice, Katsuki dear.”

He blushes when you look at him, hiding it behind his hand. “Yeah. Whatever. Just make sure it’s fucking edible.”

“That’s a tall order, angry man. I might not be able to do it.” You say teasingly, terribly high on a mixture of him and your own fuzzy feelings. “We’ll see, huh?”

Katsuki just nods, dropping his head into his hands. He still looks tired, his eyes half-lidded and eyebrows drawn low, but he’s fighting sleep. Every time you turn to glance at him, he’s blinking himself awake, and every time you turn away you can feel his eyes on your back. It was sweet- until it wasn’t. Until he ruined it.

“Your knife skills are fuckin’ terrible, idiot.”

“Wow- thanks.” You snort, but your motions don’t cease. You’re steady and sure with your chops, even in the face of his ridiculous criticism. “And to think I went to all this trouble for you.”

“You’re just chopping stupid onions.”

“And caramelizing them!” You defend, adding the diced onions into your pan full of oil. You turn back to him, brandishing your knife playfully. “Which you’d know if you let me get that far!”

“A knife! In my own fuckin’ kitchen? That supposed to be a shitty ass threat or somethin’?”

“No, if I was gonna threaten you, I wouldn’t use a knife. That’s just a bad battle tactic, really”

“Yeah?” He takes the bait, perks up a little bit as an easy smile rolls across his face. “What’d you fuckin’ use then, idiot?”

“Fire extinguisher.”

Katsuki’s amused- you know he is, can see it in the way his eyes shine, but he’s fighting it. He’s pulling his mouth into a half-hearted grimace and scowling at you when he replies.

“You’re not fuckin’ funny. That wasn’t funny.”

“I am and it was, but that’s okay.” You shrug, going back to carmelizing the onions. They’re nearly done now, and you add a few spices and a dash more oil in with them. “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”

“You’re talking like you can win any.”

“Hey! I’d be careful there, angry man. I know where you live, you know.”

That does elicit a snort from him, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “You plannin’ to kill me in my sleep?”

“Now if I told you that wouldn’t very much of a plan, would it?”

“No. Guess even a dumbass like you can understand that much.”

“Katsuki,” You sigh dreamily, turning your head to bat your eyelashes at him dramatically. “You have such a way with words! Makes a girl feel so special.”

He seems stunned for a moment, before he blushes and averts his eyes. Recovery for him takes a second- but only just a second.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re so fuckin’ funny.” He grumbles, mouth drawn into a thin line. “What’s got you so goddamn cheery anyway?”

“Took a nap. Feelin’ energized.”

“When?”

“When you took one?” You say, idly stirring the ingredients in the pan. “What- you thought I was awake the whole time? That I did nothing but just pet your hair and watch you sleep? For hours?”

He doesn’t say anything, and that seals it for you.

Katsuki had to be the cutest thing on Earth. Just the most adorable little rabid thing who you wanted to keep forever and hug super close and maybe kiss all over. He was precious, and when you looked over to see that he was indeed blushing- well, those feelings only multiplied 1000x over.

“N-no! I didn’t! Fuck no! Don’t be fucking stupid!” He defends, all sleep now gone from his features. “I didn’t! I didn’t and I don’t so shut the fuck up about it!”

You’re not sure if it was the nap or his flustered state that gives you strength, but you’re crossing the room before you can help it. Standing just on the other side of the counter, you lean across it on your elbows, catching his gaze. There’s feelings fluttering wildy in your chest- warm, blistering, uncontainable feelings threatening to burst through your skin and you find you just can’t help yourself.

“Would you like me to pet your hair and watch you sleep for hours? Huh? Katsuki?”

He damn near jolts in his seat- back ridgid and jaw set and eyes so very, very, alive. Flushing, red gathers around his cheeks and his neck and the tips of his ears. Your ears ring prematurely in anticipation, in pure sympathy for the way your ear drums are seconds away from being burst entirely.

“Why the fuck- I didn’t! Why the fuck would you even say that?” He screams, voice tearing from his throat with a feral growl. “You think your funny or some shit? Asking weird shit and being fucking weird in my goddamn kitchen? Tryna start a fuckin’ fight with me? I’ll start a fuckin’ fight!”

Bakugou square his shoulders, mouth set into a determined line through his harsh words. He’s pushing away from the counter, just barely swinging his legs over the chair when you reach him.

“Sit back down, angry man.” You laugh, the sound uncontrollable as it tumbles from your mouth. You push at his rising shoulders until he relents. Watching as he sinks back into his seat, you smile widely. “No fight! I was joking!”

“Well I don’t think your jokes are very fuckin’ funny!”

“Mhm, I know.” You say indulgently, unable to keep the fondness from your tone. “But don’t worry, grumpy, I think that’s all I have. No more jokes for tonight.”

“Now you’re just fuckin’ lying to me.” He barks, but even through the bite you can hear his smile. “You really are askin’ for a fight, aren’t ya?”

“No, I’m not. Seriously.” You soothe.

He doesn’t say anything, just goes back to watching you cook. You’re dropping bread into the pan, watching it brown and adding cheese. Some of the shredded cheese hits the pan, burns quickly- makes a popping sound.

The smile captures your face before you can stop it. Again, you find that you really just can’t help yourself around him.

“And even if I was starting a fight,” You start again, laughing lightly with your back turned to him. “I wouldn’t get very far now, would I? You’d blow me up in a second, huh, angry man?”

You hear him shift in the chair, hear his sharp exhale and his arms hitting the counter. You expect an angry retort, hell, maybe even a cocky one- but that’s not what you get when you turn to face him.

“I would never blow you up.”

His eyes widen, shoulders tensing immediately. You weren’t fairing any better- just as surprised by his quick statement as he was.

In all your life, in all your soulmate fantasies, you had never imagined the words “I would never blow you up” to be the tipping point for you. You never imagined that those words would be what sent you over- what broke the weird dam of feelings that had been welling in you since the day you texted him. But it was.

You were crossing the kitchen before you knew it, careful, sure, strides carrying you to his side. You hands fell around his cheeks, tilting his head up to meet your eyes, and suddenly, all at once, it hit you.

“I like you.” You admit breathlessly, your fond laugh erupting from your chest and raw and unfettered and real. “I- I like you so much, you asshole. You know that? Right?”

He looks winded, his eyes widening as you draw slow circles with your thumbs on his cheeks. You can just barely see it, he only just hardly lets you, but you watch the way he leans into your touch. Just the barest bit of extra weight in your hands, only for a moment, before he pulls back just a bit, smirking up at you.

“Fuckin’ said that already, dumbass.”

“Katsuki!”You whine in protest, rolling your eyes as you let go of his cheeks. “I was being nice!”

You had planned to retreat after that, but the way he suddenly smiles keeps you rooted where you stand. It’s confident little smirk, sitting just at the edge of his mouth- it’s so coy and immature and playful and so very much him that it pulls you in. You’re stepping closer, just a little, and that only makes him, as if he understands, smirk a little more.

He’s like a magnet, you realize, blushing wildly. A dangerous magnet- and I’m an idiot for letting myself get this close.

“I was bein’ nice.” He finally says, grin absolutely shit-eating at this point. “What the hell are you complain’ about, woman- that was nice. You don’t like me bein’ nice to you?”

“That was not nice!”

“I think it was.” He shrugs, so very self-assured and taking the piss. “Think maybe you’re just too fuckin’ sensitive? Hah?”

It’s the way he says it- so cooly and calmly and almost smugly. Like he’s got you backed into a corner and just waiting under his finger. And, truthfully, he does, but you’re much too competitive to just accept that. Much too familiar with the way he’ll blush and scream and fluster at even a hint of pushback. So even with shaky breaths, and a heart fluttering out of control, you challenge him.

“Out of the two of us,” You start, a shaky hand ghosting feather-light under his chin, just barely tilting his face up. “I’m not the sensitive one.”

He takes the bait, just as you knew he would, and rises to it. Even blushing as he was, Katsuki only inches closer in challenge, catching your gaze in full. “Big fuckin’ words, sunshine. Be careful.”

The nickname was playing dirty, and he knew it. You could see it in the careful set of his jaw, the way that incredibly irritating smirk was still sitting unbidden across his stupid beautiful face. You couldn’t let him win. You just couldn’t.

“Yeah, you’re so angry, aren’t you? So scary, pop rocks.” You tease, desperately trying to move past your breathlessness. Your hand moves on it’s own, threading carefully through his hair. “But not around me.”

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’ve gone soft, Katsuki.”

His hackles raise at that, and he clenches his jaw, eyes raging like wildfires. Bakugou doesn’t move away though, only gets closer, his hot breath hitting your face. “I’m. Not. Fuckin’. Soft!”

“Really?”

He nods, so very determined and offended and focused that you laugh. Your giggle makes him angry, you can see it in his eyes, but that only draws you closer. Only a few inches separate the two of you, but it’s like you can’t get close enough. It’s his magnetism, the way he’s still provoking you -despite being so red- that has your hands dropping from his head, crossing together behind his shoulders. You giggle again, warm, happy, heat flooding you at the proximity.

“Prove it then, Katsuki.”

Your defiance only seems to make him angrier. To make him boil because then he’s snarling, eyebrows creasing sharply, and he’s surging upwards, pressing his lips to yours. There’s no grace to it, no soft romance, just brutal pressure and his sharp teeth and his rough hands on your face. All things considered, it was the most aggressive kiss you’d ever recieved, but maybe you should’ve expected that. Still, it takes your breath away, nearly knocks your feet out from under you.

“Still think I’m fuckin’ soft?” Bakugou pulls away, so red he’s about to explode, but he’s still sitting there smirking like he’s won. “Hah?”

You can’t help it- you’d never heard his voice, felt it against your skin this close before. You shiver. That only seems to amuse him more, but then he’s looking past you.

“Bread’s gonna fuckin’ burn.”

“Y-yeah!” You’re shocked out of whatever hold he had you in, shoulders straightening as you backed away. “Yeah. I know. I got it.”

You felt winded, nearly weightless and fuzzy and flying as you turned back to the food. Your lips still tingled, fire sitting unrelenting in your cheeks as you finished. Part of you wondered where the hell that Katsuki came from, but then again, you figured that was part of him all along. He wouldn’t lose to anybody- and definitely not to you.

You plate up the food, and when you turn around he’s still smirking. You want to kiss the smugness right off his idiotic gorgeous lips and you promise yourself you will. Later.

“It’s hot, so be careful.” You say, sliding his plate across the counter to him.

“Obviously, dumbass. You think I’m that fuckin’ stupid?”

“No, but I’d hate for you to burn your taste buds off before you could really eat.” You smile, rounding the counter with your own food and taking a seat next him. “You’d really be missing out!”

“What- you make it special or some shit?”

“Mhm. Just for you, angry man!” You laugh. “Figured you deserved something good after all your hard work and heroics.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, so comically large and bright as he blushes and bites his knuckle. He turns away so quick, nearly cracking his neck with how fast he averts his eyes. “D-don’t just say that shit to me. Fucking weirdo.”

You took a deep breath, physically willing yourself not to turn away and squeal as loud as you could. He just had no right to be that adorable. Katsuki had fully kissed you, hands on your face and biting pressure, but he drew the line at being served food? At being served kind words?

Oh- oh. You realized. It was words for him- affirmation. That was his real weakness. You filed it away, incredibly excited for the next time you got to test that little theory out on him.

Dinner was an interesting affair- it was quiet and relatively calm, at least for everyone but the poor grilled cheese you’d served to him. He’d torn into it the second it was cool enough, nearly demolishing it in his sharp teeth. You figured you should’ve guessed that, that he’d eat the way he did everything else- aggressively.

“You want anything else?” You ask, gathering the plates and cleaning up the counter.

“No. I’m good.” He grunts. “Thank you for the food, but if I want anything else I’ll get it my fuckin’ self.”

“A simpler thank you would’ve worked just as well.”

“It’s- I’m not,” He grumbles, stubborn as ever. “The food was good. Thank you. I’m just saying you didn’t have to go to all the fuckin’ trouble. If I need somethin’ I’ll get it. I’m not a fuckin’ invalid who can’t do anything.”

“Oh my god.” You mumble under your breath, spinning around to face him. “Will you please just let me help you?”

“I don’t fuckin’ need it.”

“Katsuki- c’mon, just let me take care of you. Help you. Please.”

He looks stunned, maybe even vulnerable, as you near. You take one of his hands in yours.

“Don’t be so stubborn, angry man. I just want to take care of you.” You plead, not letting him look away. “Somebody’s gotta right? Especially since you’re still sore.”

“‘M-’m not that sore. I’ll be fuckin’ fine. Done it before.”

“Yeah, maybe, you have, and I’m sure you still could. I know you’re strong.” You supply. “So strong- but you don’t always have to be strong all by yourself anymore. We can be strong together. I’m here for you, you know?”

Something in his eyes seems so tiny and small and unsure at your words, and it breaks your heart. There aren’t enough words in the world for all you want to say in that moment, so you just take his head in your hands, kiss him with every bit of care and concern you hold for him.

Well you pull back, he won’t look at you, his cheeks gone nearly as red as his vulnerable eyes. His shoulders shake, and he takes a deep breath, turning his head to place a tiny little kiss into the palm of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but the tiny action communicates almost everything you need to know.

“I saw that fall, alright?” You soothe, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks. “It was pretty nasty, and you’ve gotta be feeling shitty right now. I get it, and I don’t think less of you for it, and I’m not taking ‘pity’ on you or whatever you’re thinking so much about- I really just want to help you feel better. Because I care about you, and I’m so proud of you of saving that kid, and you deserve so many nice things. You gotta let someone help you, okay?”

He nods slowly, but you can see the resistance in the grimace of his mouth. It wasn’t easy for him- accepting help and admitting to any sort of fragility. You’d knew he’d fight you every step of the way- but that was okay. You’d never backed down from one of his challenges before.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you again, and I want you to just listen. Just listen and answer.” You tap a finger against his cheek. “What can I do to help you right now?”

“I-I fuckin’- I can’t.” He breathes, stuttered and anxious, frustrated eyes flitting between every object in the room. “Embarrassing- you’re fuckin’ tryin’ to- I don’t need stupid special treatment! I’m not weak!”

“I know. I know. I’m not saying you are.” You close the distance, pressing a light kiss into his hairline. “Being hurt isn’t the same thing as being weak. Being injured doesn’t mean you’re weak- and accepting help due to those injuries doesn’t make you weak either. You survived that fall because you’re strong, but you don’t have to be right now. Not unless that’s what you really want- not unless being alone right now is really what would help you best.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares up at you with eyes so guarded that it makes you want to cry.

“Is it? Is that what you want?” You ask tenatively. “If you’re really not feeling up to it, just want to shut down and sleep instead, I don’t have to be here. I want to, because I care about you, but I won’t force you. I can leave if-“

Bakugou suddenly grasps at your wrist, fingers twitching on your skin. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are pinched, but he presses your hand into his burning cheeks.

“Yeah. Okay.” You whisper, the fondness and affection dripping from your words, thick and heavy as they leave your mouth. “I get it. I understand- you don’t have to say it.”

He just nods tightly, eyes still closed.

You stay there for a moment, just breathing in the rare vulnerability that was rolling off of him. Then you find it’s not enough- that you need more contact. You’re surging forward, tucking his head into your neck as you wind feather-light arms around him, careful to avoid his injuries.

Bakugou fights it, going rigid and stiff and resitant at first. He hardly looks at you, just barely, but you catch his gaze and nod. It’s all it takes before he’s allowing himself to sink into you, his arms pulling you closer.

It’s hesitancy, than acceptance and than desperation, and suddenly he’s holding you so tightly, clutching at you like you’re gonna fade. Like you’ll slip through his calloused fingers. It makes you ache. Sends volts of throbbing pain through your chest that have you squeezing him tighter.

It makes you want to sob- the way he seemed so resistant to softness despite being so obviously starved for it. You wondered if anyone else had stuck around this long; if anyone else had noticed just how desperate he was for someone to finally hear him.

It was alright now, you figured. He had you now and you’d listen for as long as he allowed you to.

“You don’t have to say anything,” You start, voice quiet, turning your head to whisper against his hair. “But I want you to know that I think you’re good. That I think that you’re so strong, the absolute bravest, and that you did a really good thing saving that kid. I believe you- when you said that you were working on it. You’re not so angry anymore and I get it. I know I haven’t know you that long, but still, I’m so proud of you for it.”

He just melts into you further, a shuddering breath against your neck. You think you can feel a smile- just the tiniest little twitch of his lips. A hesitant, honest, thing that has unbridled fondess tearing through your chest.

You stay like that for a few minutes, so close and warm and connected, before he’s pushing you away. Just barely pressing away from you until he can look you in the eyes.

“I- uh, I fuckin’ like you too.” He stutters out, so very red and exposed and genuine. He seems to struggle with the eye contact, but he holds it anyway. “And think you’re okay. Or whatever.”

Truthfully, you wanted to tease him. Wanted to giggle and laugh and pick apart the words because he just added a “Or whatever” to the end of his declaration. It was quite possibly the lamest possible phrase to tack onto the end of an emotional statement and you wanted to say something- but now wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t even want to imagine the walls he’d put up if you laughed at him right now.

So you didn’t, you just pulled him close again. Hugged him tight and hid your pleased smile where he couldn’t see it. Bakugou stills then, resting his head against you and shutting his eyes. His anxiety fades from his shoulders and his breathing slows; if you you didn’t know any better you’d swear he was falling asleep.

“You want more pain meds?” You ask after a while. “Think it’s probably about time.”

He just nods. You begin to move away, and he follows you for a second. Just a second though- and then he’s catching himself and fisting his hands tightly shut in his lap, cheeks flushing.

“The nightime ones look pretty intense.” You comment, reading the label on the bottle. You give it a playful shake. “You wanna get high, angry man?”

He’s scoffing and rolling his eyes but he’s smiling too. Katsuki holds a hand out and you toss him the bottle.

“Not a fuckin’ baby.” He grunts, twisting open the bottle. He dry-swallows the pills; you he does it just to prove a point. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, those pills kinda look like horse tranquilizers. Worringly so.” You refill his glass of water, shoving it towards him before he can protest. “Now drink up. Then you’re spending the rest of the night on the couch, where you should’ve been. The whole time. Resting.”

“Jeez, pushy woman. I get it. Chill out already.”

“How am I supposed to chill out when you keep not listening to me, huh?” You take the empty glass from his hands. “Now, c’mon, go- back to the living room. I know you’re not gonna let me help you, but I swear to god, if I don’t see you hobbling away in a few seconds, I’m gonna be really angry at you.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, all petulant dramatics and huffy sighs, but gets up anyway- actually listens to you even if it seems like it physically pains him. Actually, knowing him, it probably does.

He collapses into the couch as you bring another water over- just in case. You meant it when you said you didn’t want him getting up again.

“So, I’m thinkin’ you’ve got, max, maybe 30 minutes? Possibly 45?” You say settling in on the other side of the couch. “So pick a movie.”

He looks at you a little weirdly. “Why?”

“Because those meds are gonna knock you the fuck out.” You laugh, unable to hold it in. “And because watching movies is a relaxing activity. And that’s what you’re supposed to be doing right now. Relaxing.”

“So you’ve fuckin’ said. I get it, woman. Put whatever you want on, I don’t care.”

“Really? No preference at all?”

“No.” He puffs out his cheeks, averts his eyes. “Normally don’t have time for that shit.”

You can’t help it- the way you find yourself sidling right up next to him. You’re careful, sure to avoid all his sore limbs, but you take a chance and poke at his chest lightly.

“No time, huh?” You say, catching his eyes. “I’ll find a way to change that.”

His eyes widen and his cheeks redden, and as usual, he doesn’t say anything. Katsuki just hides his face over your head, tucking you into his chest as he huffs.

“Course you fuckin’ would. You’re the most irritating woman I’ve ever met.”

“I’m gonna choose to take that as a complement.”

“You fuckin’ shouldn’t. It’s not.”

“Well, I think I will anyway.” You giggle, sinking into his hold. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you like me- you did kiss me first, you know.”

Bakugou goes ridgid at that, face heating as he forcibly shucks you from him. He looks appalled, absolute disbelief covering his features.

“T-that’s not! I fuckin’- I did that shit to win! Because you said I was soft! I’m not fucking soft, you shitty woman!”

“Mhm. I know.” You laugh, nearing him again and stopping just inches from his red face. You’re blushing too, horribly so, but you can’t help teasing him. Nothing could stop you from riling him up further- it was your favorite past-time after all. “You wanna try winning again? I’ll promise I’ll let you. Katsuki.”

Pop.

He shrinks back in his seat, jolts like he’s the one who just got shocked. He isn’t. You are- and you’re laughing and smiling and breaking the tension all at once.

“That’s- Don’t fuckin’ do that to me! Goddamn witch! What the hell is that? Fuckin’ breaking my quirk? What the fuck?” He roars as he tucks his hands under his legs. “You know how long I been workin’ on controlling that shit? Just to have you walk in and fuck it up? Stop it! I fuckin- you make me so mad! Stop laughing!”

“I-I’m not. I’m not! It’s just,” You begin, breathless and gasping. “I was wondering, you know, why that hadn’t happened in a while, but now I know why. And it’s adorable.”

“Shut up! It’s not and I’m not- I’m fucking cool as shit so don’t go running your fuckin’ mouth about it! You don’t know what you’re talking about, damn dumbass, you don’t know shit!”

You sober a little bit, admiration shining clearly in your eyes when you look at him. When you look at his red face- the way he flustered. Because that’s the secret, you discovered; he only popped when you embarrassed him.

“Stop yelling already.” You giggle, pressing closer to him. “It’s not a bad thing, angry man. You make me nervous too, you know?”

He spares a look at you, blinking dumbfounded at your statement. Like he couldn’t believe it. It was such a ridiculous, oblivious look on his face that you couldn’t stop yourself- you just had to kiss it away.

As much noise as he was making, it all dies away the second you meet his lips. All the resistance fades and he melts into it, hands grasping under your chin to keep you close to him.

The first kiss was about winning, and the second one about validation, and those were good, amazing, but this one was nothing but fondess. A torrent of burning, boiling, affection as your lips moved against his. It was a tender kiss, much softer and slower than the first one, and a lot more delicate but you liked it just the same. Liked being able to finally act on all the feelings you’d been storing up for weeks.

The completion you’d felt from this kiss far surpassed the charged kisses from earlier. This was kissing him just because you could, because you wanted to, and you were sure this was heaven- at least, as close to heaven as any one human should ever be allowed to get.

It felt like flying, like hurtling above the earth and surging through the clouds. Like you were Icarus and you breached the atmosphere to soar against the surface of the sun. His hands fell to the base of your spine, pressing you firmly against him, and suddenly you knew. Knew it for sure, in your bones like it’d always been carved in there-you might’ve been Icarus, but he’d never let you fall. You would get to blister and scorch and burn for as long as you’d wanted but your wax would never melt. There was no fear when falling with him. Falling for him.

You pull away, but you don’t go too far. Don’t think you could separate even if you tried. Katsuki was an addiction, a powerful, potent thing and the only salve for that itch in your skin was being close to him. As close as you could possibly manage.

He didn’t say anything, just ragged breathes as he pulled you close. That was alright, you figured, you already knew he wasn’t a man of many words. At least not of many nice ones. The thought made you giggle.

“What the fuck are you laughin’ about, idiot?” He huffs, cheeks still bright red. “What’s so fuckin’ funny, hah?”

“Nothing. I just like you. A lot.”

The statement was easy, falling from your mouth like it was seared into your tongue. You’d knew the affect it would have- that he’d jump in his skin and go shy under your touch. That was half the reason you said it after all.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, dropping a quick kiss to his heated cheek just because you could. He only seems further embarrassed by your action, hands unconciously scrunching the material of your sweatshirt. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.” He mumbles juvenilely, looking anywhere to avoid your eyes. “Die then. Fuckin’ burn, you witch.”

The laugh that tears from your chest is full and heavy and so very filled with joy that it sucks the air out of you. Has you grasping for breath as you clutch your stomach, a hand braced on the cushion behind you as you absolutely lose yourself. When the tears finally clear from your eyes, you see him smiling, apparently very pleased with his joke. Which, to be completely honest, you were too. It was a very funny joke, after all.

“You can’t- you shouldn’t call your soulmate a witch, Katsuki!”

He just shrugs, smile still stretched across his face as he watches you.

“Jesus christ, what am I gonna do with you?” You ask, heaving a breath as your last giggles fade. “You’re a real handful, you know?”

He nods, looking once again all too pleased with himself. You see his pupils though- the way they’ve slowly dialated from the meds. You had to hand it to him, being that present while fighting heavy narcotics? He really was the best at everything.

“Alright, alright, enough jokes from you, Mr. Funny Man.” You say, standing quickly to grab the blanket across the room. You sit back down, setting it to the side as you pat your lap. “Lay down.”

“I’m not-“

“Just lay down, you stubborn idiot.” You sigh. “I can see your eyes. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Not that fuckin’ tire-“

“I said, you’re tired, aren’t you?” You interrupt sternly.

He just looks at you, rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night, and collaspes into your lap. You spread the blanket over him, nearly cooing when he pulls it up to his chin and closes his eyes. He then abruptly shifts, movements jerky and aggressive as he turns onto his side and wraps his arms around you stomach.

“Aww, Katsuki-“

“Shut the fuck up, woman.” He bites out, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Say a goddamn thing and I’ll fucking bite you.”

“Ooo kinky.”

True to his word, he does bite. Not a cute bite either- it’s all pressure and sharp teeth and locked jaw against your stomach, all ridiculous force through your sweatshirt, and you swear to god if he wasn’t so cute you’d slap him.

“Katsuki!” You shrill, hands pushing his head away. “Ow! Stop! That hurts, you bitch!”

“Told you. Fuckin’ warned ya.” He grunts, relenting with a smug smile as he nuzzles back into your stomach- this time without teeth. “Now turn on the TV. Need background noise to drown you the fuck out.”

“You’re so mean!” You whine, but you’re still petting his hair fondly, shifting as minutely as you could to grab the remote.

He doesn’t say anything as the TV clicks to life, filling the room with soft instructions as the cooking channel drones on. You watch it for a while, perfectly content and sated as you scratch at his scalp. You wouldn’t pick the cooking channel on a normal day- but let’s face, you weren’t really paying that much attention to it.

Katsuki shifts suddenly, sleepily prods the base of your spine with a single finger until you jump.

“God.” You huff. “What?”

“You should stay.”

“S-stay?”

“Tonight.” He slurs, eyes just barely sliding open to display his glazed pupils. “Here.”

He’s trying to blink himself away now, hardly able to keep his eyes open. You see his blown pupils and feel his sluggish limbs- that medicine really was doing a number on him. Turns out, even the great Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t stronger than literal drugs.

Your stomach sank as you continued to look him. You wanted to stay- truly you did. But you couldn’t. It was a sunday, you had class in the morning, and your university was over in the next city.

You should stay.” He insists again.

“I’m can’t stay.”

“Fuckin- why?” He pokes your cheek with a sluggish limb, just barely missing your eyes. His own are coated in mild irritation. “Hate me that much or somethin’?”

“No.” You laugh fondly, batting his hands away and gathering them in your own. “I have class tomorrow morning, angry man.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but you watch his lips pull into a pout. He pokes your cheek again. “Drop out of school.”

“I’m not gonna drop out of school.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m almost finished.” You supply indulgently, cradling his sleepy face in your hands. “I can always visit tomorrow.”

“No. Now.”

“Katsuki,” You giggled, unable to contain it. “I really can’t. I can’t just do everything you say, you know.”

“Never fuckin’- never do anythin’ I say.”

“I know.”

He’s quiet again, head lolling to bury itself back into your stomach. You look at the time, and laugh- you guess 9:47 was past his bed time even when he wasn’t sky high off of pain meds.

“Stay.” He orders again, arms winding tighter against your stomach.

“You’re so loopy, my dear angry man.” You coo, catching his face in your palms, tilting his head until you meet his glazed eyes. “God, I can’t wait to tell you about this tomorrow morning.”

“When you’re still here.”

“I’m not- Katsuki!” You giggle. “What has that medicine done to you, oh my god.”

He just shrugs, closing his eyes as he drops his head back further into your palms. At this point, so flustered and outright giddy at his adorable actions, you were sure that your hands had to be shaky- but if they were he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you serious, right now? It’s- that’s all your weight! What’re you gonna do; just break your neck if I move my hands?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ probably.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“Mhm. Don’t move ‘em then.” He slurs. “World’s- world’s gonna be real fuckin’ mad if you kill me.”

You want to retort, want to argue with him and his ridiculousness, but he wouldn’t be awake to find out. He’s fallen asleep almost as soon as he finishes the thought, head falling completely into your palms, even more dead weight than before. Surpressing a squeal, you set his head back down on your thighs, heart pounding wildly when he nuzzles into your stomach.

His kitten snores start again, those same adorable little ones from earlier, and it’s like you had no choice. Mid-terms were coming up soon, and it was a terrible choice to skip class tomorrow morning, and your back would kill you when you woke up, but your grave was dug the second he’d cuddled into you.

Bakugou Katsuki always got his way after all- always won, even when it came to you. So you didn’t fight the sleep gathering in your eyes, letting your head fall heavy against the cushion behind you.

You stayed. You would stay, and you knew it was just because he asked you to, because he had you wrapped so tightly and completely around his explosive fingers- no matter how much you wanted to deny it.

//-//

enjoy the fluff kissy kissy :))

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou soulmate textfic #bakugou soulmate au #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou series #soulmate au #bnha soulmate au

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

the shakes | p.d.

summary: “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.” Or, you’re experiencing the terrible side effects of being horny and Poe Dameron knows just how to fix it.

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+), oral (fem!receiving) and just a whole lot of banter, bruh poe is just feastin TONIGHT, sprinkle of plot pairing: poe dameron x fem!reader word count: 5.1k

a/n: uhhh so,,, heh,,, enjoy. bc smut.

“Ow, fuck.”

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

“My bad. It’s not like we’re stuck in a fucking closet.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Yours.”

You breathe out through your nose, struggling to contain your annoyance as you try to back up away from man but no dice. Instead, your back jams awkwardly against the busted control panel.

Said control panel is one of the reasons why you’re stuck in a closet with a man you met only twenty minutes before. Other reasons may or may not include you, the man mentioned, and a certain droid both of you are supposedly waiting on.

“You said that droid is coming?” you grunt as he lets out a heavy sigh against your collarbone. You’ve been squished in a four by four foot supply closet for the past twenty minutes at least and there’s barely enough room as he reaches around to jam the button again. “That’s not going to work,” you say pointedly and he scowls at you, pressing the button again.

“BB-8’s coming,” he growls. “He’ll know I’m missing.”

“Oh, thank the Maker for that!”

“Do you have a problem?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re breathing in my air, in my general vicinity.” A pause, and then: “Can you breathe in any other direction?”

In response, he sucks in a huge breath and lets it out in one big exhale towards the vent above them before glancing down again and arching a brow as if to say, Happy now?

You are most certainly not.

“At least this gives us a moment to breathe. It’s better than being arrested,” he says as if offering a ceasefire. The man leans away from you and you sigh, readjusting the strap of your short dress. His eyes are determinedly staying on yours but even you know they’ve dipped the few times your back was turned. “We can get to know each other.”

Not that you haven’t been thinking about his ass all day either. You spotted him earlier in the markets today, even if he hadn’t noticed you, with that orange and white droid rolling around behind him. Cute and memorable.

What can you say? A good looking guy tends to stick out in a crowd.

“I think I’d rather be arrested,” you say as you lean against your own wall and tug at your dress where you think it doesn’t fit too well. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“You mean, you don’t lock lips with any random handsome stranger?” he fires back. “I’m hurt.”

“Right. You know what I meant.” You nod to the chip in his pocket. “What do you wanna do with that?”

“Top secret, Snatch.”

“Snatch?” you repeat, frowning. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s a secret you can share with me.” At this, you push off the wall and, by the limitations of the closet, stand in his space. Dameron straightens up, an unimpressed smirk printed on his face. “So?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It could be.”

“It really couldn’t.” His nose brushes against yours and his soft breath tickling at your lips makes a hot spear shoot into your gut. You can taste the sunfruit on his breath, the sweet swipe of his tongue across his lips and your eyes narrow as his chest presses against yours. You don’t budge from your spot as a curl of his dark hair falls into his eyes. Almost automatically and before you can register what you’re doing, you reach up to brush it back and he catches your wrist before you can, grin growing. “I knew I recognized you.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you reply dryly. You shake his hand free from your wrist and back up against the wall, crossing your arms. “I’ve seen you in the markets a few times. The only eye-candy way out here,” you admit grudgingly, thinking of the weird fantasies you had about the guy you dubbed ‘The Man from the Market.’

Not your most graceful or catchy nickname, or your most dignified moment, waking up to soaked panties and a flustered sensation glossing over your skin, but you also didn’t expect to see him again. At this party, no less, of some merc bastard and his friends.

“Likewise,” he says, eyes dropping from yours to your lips and then darting up again. He chews on his lip, as if fighting back that cocky smile before he adds, “You’re the only thing that’s caught my eye in the past two days.”

“Charming.”

“Hm. Poe Dameron.”

You glance at the unopened door, sighing out a, “Good for you,” as you cross your legs at your ankles. Dameron only frowns, turning to the door and you observe the darkness around you. You can’t really make out anything but the solid shape of your fellow closet companion. You can’t even make out his features too well unless he’s extremely close to you, and even then, it’s a guesstimate.

You’re going to kill Yvonna. If she wants the intel, she’s going to have to pay you double the credits.

The darkness seems to crowd in on you and you take a deep breath, the heat of the room getting to you. You feel sweat gather underneath your arms, in the creases of your thighs, and maybe it’s the alcohol getting to you, but you swear your feet aren’t attached anymore. They’ve been strapped to some stupidly high heels to accentuate your legs and it's gathered in a trembling pain in your calves now that you’ve a moment to stop moving. You want to keep moving. It’s the dancing in your stomach, the strange flutter in your lungs, the involuntary clenching between your legs.

Normally, you’d be fine but right now…

God, it might’ve been something you ate. You don’t know, but right now, you feel like you’re a hollowed out piece of scrap.

“C’mon, BB-8,” Dameron murmurs as you let your head drop back against the wall. Your eyes slip shut and it’s not too different from the darkness surrounding.

Maybe it’s cause you haven’t seen Krieg in a moment which is part of the reason you’re here. Hasn’t given you a chance to take the edge off and you’re so full of this energy that needs to be spent or you’re going to die in this closet, in that ship…

You needed to do something.

Your eyes open and see the shape of Dameron’s head.

Or, someone.

Yes, you had kissed him first, pushed him into this closet, let his hands wander, but that was because a guard was coming and you weren’t about to get caught red-handed.

This fucking sucks.

“My friends call me Y/N,” you say glumly, your fingers gingerly tugging at the hem of your skirt. An uncomfortable slickening is occurring down there just thinking about that kiss that occurred in a time when you weren’t stuck in a closet, and you can’t help but think that Dameron was a good kisser.

Give credit where credit is due, all that bullshit.

“Y/N, huh?”

“I said my friends,” you reply pointedly. “Associates and otherwise know me by my callsign.”

“Which is?”

“Bandit.”

“How original,” he mutters almost under his breath and you roll your eyes. The burning in your gut spreads like a fan of fire, following where your knuckles press against your thighs as you try to adjust your dress to fit comfortably, but it’s too damn hot and you shift again, catching his attention. “You okay? Not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“No. It’s just… it’s just hot in here,” you mumble with a scowl directed at your own body betraying the way his arm bracketing you on one side of your head is radiating a heat you want to choke on. “When did it get so hot?”

“When they started serving spiced whiskey?” he tries and, this time, your scowl is directed at him with another poison to kill a small snake. “Maybe you’re having the Shakes.”

“The…” You blink, and you’re not sure if your eyes are adjusting to the blinding darkness or if you can actually see him clear as day when he bends his arm and leans against the wall by his elbow. You don’t move away and his breath, searing, tingles at your sweating neck. The drawling exhales only serve to send more thigh-clenching spasms into your stomach and you shoot him a weak glare. “The what now?”

“The Shakes,” he repeats as if he’s totally unaware of what he’s doing to your body. Maker, he must be able to smell it. There’s no way he can’t because you can feel just the effect of him being so close to you has done and— “You know.”

“I, uh, I really don’t.” If he knew a fraction of what his voice did to your panties, he would not be talking right now. Or he’d be talking more. You don’t know which one you want more.

“Oh, you know, when you haven’t had sex in a long time. I call it the Shakes. Every little thing sets you off, you get cranky and flustered, you’re all wired up and your gut feels like the first time you go into hyperspace.” He sighs, and you hear the quiet thump of his head resting against the wall. Y’know, darling?”

“Hm?” you hum, distracted by the index knuckle running over your cheek.

“It makes you distracted.” You can hear his smirk and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “It’s why I call ‘em the Shakes. Throws everything off, doesn’t it?”

“Stars, you love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

“You know, I see the it often enough that I can recognize any poor soul suffering from a mile away,” he says, ignoring you. “And you’re sick with it, Snatch.” Casually as if he isn’t lazily tracing the shell of your ear with his hand now, he chuckles. You close your eyes as if you’re not critically aware of every desire to pull him into another hard kiss, every little movement of his body from the way he leans to the way his fingers flutter around the curve of your jaw.

You’re a fucking fighter, though. You’re not about to hook up with some random motherfucker in a closet.

Even if the random motherfucker is the hottest thing you’ve seen in who knows how long.

Holy shit, you think your gut might explode with how hard you’re trying to keep it together so you say the first thing you can think of related.

“I didn’t get sick the first time I flew into hyperspace. I didn’t get sick the first time I did an aileron. I, uh, I really don’t get sick when I fly at all,” you say, eyebrows rising skeptically. “Do you?” Confused: “No. I’m a pilot.”

“Oh. And you get the Shakes often, then? Wedged in the seat for hours on end,” you ask conversationally, managing to keep your tone in check. Dameron chuckles at your question, but he pulls back. Your thighs press together and something lurches at his withdrawal, wanting him near again but you silently push those urges down. “If you’re so wise to depart your knowledge with me, that is.”

“You’re a funny girl. Nah, you just get used to it when you’re busy doing other things.”

“Other things?”

“Hm, well, let’s say I have a busy job, and that’s pretty much my whole twenty-four-seven schedule.” He comes close again, close enough that his lips brush against the delicate skin before your ear and shivers shoot down your spine like waves of electricity and you stiffen. You know he hears you suck in your breath, the tiny hitch of your chest and he chuckles again, almost amused.

“I think… it’s…” Maker, please forgive me for my utterly hedonistic will that has the strength of melted bantha cheese. “Fuck, I think it’s physically impossible to ignore that you’re horny.”

“I didn’t say that,” he corrects, lips whispering over your skin. He tilts his head. “I said you get used to it.”

“Well… n-normally, I’m pretty fucking good at that.” You bite your lip and lift your head to the ceiling, thighs pressing together and straightening up but the sound of your dress dragging against the wall gives you away. “When... people aren’t around.”

“People?” he echoes. “You alright, Snatch?” Fuck him. He is definitely enjoying this.

Well, fuck. Might as well, right?

“The Shakes,” you say in a very steady tone that is betrayed by the absolute ocean swimming between your thighs, “may have found residence here.”

“Hm.”

“That funny to you?” you ask, feeling his smug fucking smirk against your cheek and turning to look at him. His dark eyes glint somehow in the non-existent light. You just know it’s there. A cocky spark.

“Explains why you kiss like I’d melt away between your fingers. It was a good kiss, by the way. You’re a good kisser,” he adds, “but more passionate than I thought you’d go for, considering all we were trying to do was evade the guards and that fact that up until that point, you were trying to pickpocket me.”

“I was trying to get the chip. And I think the pushing into the closet was a good touch,” you defend as he rotates around and cages you against the wall. You stare defiantly back. “He went away, didn’t he?”

“But that just implies something.” His elbows are on either side of your head and he leans in, low enough that you can feel the sound of his voice, his sweet breath against your aching mouth. It’s one thing to admit it but another thing to act on it. Maker, are you really about to—

You know what?

Fuck it. Your panties are ruined, you need this fucking annoying heat out of your system and he’s fucking right about one thing: you’re hornier than a Lucrusian fengrill in heat.

What do you have to lose?

“Why just imply something?” you ask innocently as his lips brush against the corner of your mouth. You sigh in relief when the heat seems to sink, spreads through your body instead, and his shadow brushes against your skin as he moves lower, lips finding your chin, the curve of your jawbone. “Oh, fuck…” you choke out, your hands finding his hair automatically, threading through the dry locks and his name slips out in a breathless moan. “Fuck, Dameron.”

His body jerks at the sound of his name coming from you and your eyes widen when his hips press flush against your thigh. His bulge is hot and hard, the fabric of his pants silky against your bare skin and you let out a soft sound when he nudges your head up. His hands run over the walls, find your shoulders, your waist, tugging at fabric that sticks to your skin before continuing elsewhere, and you’re not even breathing as he licks at the pulse point, the sweat, the alcohol glazing your skin.

“Shit,” he breathes against your neck, teeth running along the vein as his hand sneaks underneath the hem of your dress, skirts around the edge of your panties and it’s the brush across the absolutely soaked spot that does him in, does you in because you know he felt you clench around nothing. “Fuck, I can feel it—”

“Shut up,” you groan, wrenching his head up and smashing your lips against his. He sighs into your mouth, hips grinding against yours as you take a handful of his curls. You yank him back, your lungs seizing for air. Everything tastes like sugar and starfruit as you push him down to his knees, your calves burning. “My feet. Ow. Fuck these heels, honestly.”

“I got ‘em.” His hands immediately find your ankles, running smooth circles into your skin but before you can tell him the strap is on the outer side of your leg, he lifts your foot up. A protest stammers in your throat as he reaches up and presses you against the wall with a large hand flat against your tummy, but he merely smirks against your thigh, letting your knee hang off his broad shoulder. “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.”

“Dameron—”

“Relax,” he drawls as your back meets the wall flush and cold. You grab onto the handle of one of the mechanical drawers, wincing when his hand digs into the sore muscle on its way up to stabilize your thigh just as the other on your stomach travels down. “Got a nice view, don’t you?”

“Would be better,” you grit out, “if I could see.”

“Need me to pull out my glow-in-the-dark condoms for you?”

“Dameron.”

“Kidding. Well, only half. I do have some back on the ship.”

“Dameron.”

“Alright, alright. Next time.”

You can’t even see the silhouette of his face anymore, gone underneath the hem of your dress, but you shake your head anyway, lip caught between your teeth as you feel his hand slide up and down the one calf still planted firmly on the ground.

You take a breath and let your head fall back, your ravaged neck pulsing, your entire world spinning.

It happens all at once. When his grip on the thigh resting on his shoulder tightens, when he lifts your other leg over his shoulder, when he surges forward, his lips finding your soaked panties immediately, teeth nipping lightly at the fabric.

Your entire system shuts down.

He noses up higher and your thighs wrap around his head, ankles hooking. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clutches at your ass really, and your fingers in his hair tighten when the dress begins to ride up higher, revealing more of the gorgeous man between your legs.

Oh, how you wish there was some sort of light in here so you can just—

There’s one shaky breath, then another, and there’s no movement which you’re only painfully aware of and your eyes open—when did you even close them?—as you look down. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wish I could see you, darling,” he breathes, kissing the top of your slit and sending a warm shiver through your gut. “Fuck. The way you’d look when I finally chase the Shakes out of you—I’d ruin you. Ruin you and then some. Eat for days.” And then his teeth return, barely skimming the soft flesh of your navel as they hook on the waistband of your panties and tug, his breath following down your thigh as he works on pulling it down, slowly, luxuriously, his lips soft as they press teasing kisses in the crease of your thighs, land tiny nips to the juncture of your hips. You spasm at every turn, wiggle and squeeze until you’re sure you’re cutting off the circulation in his neck, but he doesn’t give any indication that he cares.

No, he just holds you against the wall, your legs tossed over his shoulders, and grins.

You don’t know how you know.

You just do so you don’t know why you stutter out, “You g-good?” anyway.

“Fucking perfect.”

Maybe it’s so you can hear that voice, low and deep in his chest, between your legs.

He leans forward and his nose bumps into your clit, and, as if on reflex, a warm, strong tongue darts out and licks a solid stripe through your heat. “Fuck, darlin’.”

Definitely so you can hear that voice between your legs.

“You’re heaven, y’know that?” he mumbles but you can’t quite focus, your hands gripping at anything you can—one in his hair, the other on that handle and your back arches when he just goes for it, mouth to clit contact, tongue probing and licking and stroking all at once. “Think ‘m gonna die if you don’t drown me first.”

“W-way to i-inflate a girl’s—fuck…” Your voice goes hoarse midway, as if he sucks it out of you, and you can feel the air in your lungs going with it as your back arches off the steel wall. You can feel his jaw, sharp and strong and warm, flexing against your thighs as he works, tongue velvet, lips teasing and he inhales deeply as your legs tighten around his head.

His fingers dig deeper into your ass and you choke back a pathetic moan when his teeth raze your swollen bud lightly, just enough to tease you and keep you on edge. Everything is cotton. The shadows, his hair, his rough hands that are full of calluses you don’t know the meanings of.

Your nails scratch his scalp, tug him impossibly closer and you’re biting through your lip right now, your moans bundling in your chest as he pushes deeper, pushes you closer against the wall as if he wants more of you but can’t quite reach and you want to just let him continue, let him have his fun because you’re sure he can go down on you for hours but—

You’re only human, and the tide comes so quickly you fucking know for sure two things: Dameron knows what he’s doing and Dameron knows what the fuck the Shakes are.

A slight brush of his tongue at your clit and you’re gone. You’re on that downhill slope that sends a spiral of chain events through your body. Your thighs lock around his head and your fingers tighten as lightning shivers and lances through your limbs, sending your heart up into your throat and pulsing between your legs. Your gut clenches, so desperate to hold on that you can’t even breathe, that the only thing you can stutter out is some bare semblance to his name followed by ramblings of “fuck” slewn with more “close… close… so, so close…”

Your eyes are screwed shut, your mind scrambling to concoct an image—an image that would be reality if the lights were on and you can almost see it. Poe Dameron, with his dark eyes, raven hair, plush lips and a beard that scratches against your skin, on his knees with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his hands, huge and veined and strong, grabbing at what flesh he can, head gone underneath the hem of your dress and you can only feel what he’s doing—

You don’t even recognize him chuckling until you can feel the vibration of it through your knees, against your leg.

“Darlin’,” he pants, drawing back just enough to breathe and he tilts his chin just enough to press a sloppy, slick kiss against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and he laughs again, entertained at the desperate little whine that comes outta your throat because the image would’ve been just enough if he kept going for a second more, “gotta let me fuckin’ breathe if you want me to stay down here.”

“That’s…” You struggle for words because you’re heaving so hard, so out of breath because you didn’t even know you weren’t breathing for several seconds. “That’s—it’s, oh, shit.” Your thought process is disturbed by another teasing lick at your swollen folds. “Dameron, if you don’t let me just fucking—”

He nips at the juncture between your thigh and your soaking, swollen cunt.

“Watch it.” You retaliate with a sharp tug of his hair and he only laughs again, soothing the bite mark with a few gentle kisses.

“Just keeping you on edge, darling,” he whispers, peeking up from underneath your dress for the first time in what feels like hours. You run your hand blindly down his face and feel the slickness on his chin, swiping it off but his teeth catch your thumb, and then it’s his tongue wrapping around your fingers, too, sending fluttering shivers through your stomach. He licks them dry before he lets go and your hand finds his hair again as he sighs, disappearing between your legs again, and you barely hear it, a nearly indecipherable mumble that sounds more like it’s coming from inside your head that his own mouth, “Anyone ever told you… you taste like heaven?”

“And how would you know?” you gasp, feeling a little giggly yourself as the crest begins to rise, your chin tilted up as his tongue flattens against your slit. He hums to himself, the curve of his jaw brushing against your tender thigh as he pulls back just enough to speak.

“‘Cause I just tasted it, darling. And I know I could just feast on you for days.” Your entire body tenses as he laughs into your cunt, the ripples of it against your sensitive skin shooting through your spine and you’re on that downward spiral again as his smiling mouth attaches to your bud and his tongue dips into you again.

You’re dripping. The sounds are obscene, filthy to the nth degree, and you’re so close that it aches. You want to thrust but you can’t risk toppling the man you’re resting on the shoulders of, but at the same time, you know he’s teasing the ever loving shit out of you with his shallow passes, his fluttering kisses.

Taking his sweet time, indulging in it. You’re pretty sure if he could make do on his promise to eat you out for however long you’d let him, he would, but you’re half-aware of where you are, that the droid is supposedly coming, and having half-a-brain is half-a-brain too much to lose all common sense.

“Dameron,” you whisper, and he pauses, looking up and you wish you could see his face, the face of a man who stopped at the mere utterance of his name that it sends a thrill through your overstimulated system. “Please.”

There are no further words needed.

He works you up to it slowly, until your fingers are clamped so hard and you’re seeing stars despite there being nothing but shadows around you. The only sound is the wet slop of his mouth working against your drenched pussy, your moans and his heavy breathing that fans out across your navel.

It’s when his tongue pushes so much deeper, and curls, that your thighs clamp down around his head and your fingers are gripping so hard you’re not sure you’re going to make it without a few nail cuts in your palms that you know the Shakes are gone.

Your entire world flips as your vision goes black. Your fingers curl tighter, your thighs begin to quiver, and everything snaps inside you. Your back arches off the wall and you feel like you scream but it’s because your voice is so utterly broken that it seems so as he continues to drink through the floods, drawing out the aftershocks for as long as possible and the euphoria that shoots through you like a blaster is both molten and cool as spring water.

Your vocabulary is nothing but his name, soft breathes of “fuck” and “shit”, and the unrelenting “thank you”.

Your heart rattles against your ribs, beating so quickly you think it might burst from your chest and you feel another quivering sigh escape your lips as Dameron gives you a few more gentle sucks to your messy centre before he’s slowly running his hands up your thighs, to your knees, and gently sliding your legs off back to the floor.

Your body is trembling so hard that your knees nearly give in immediately, but, luckily, Dameron’s hands find your waist and ease you to the ground just as you let go of the handle of the drawer.

“Fuck,” you croak ungracefully once your ass is on solid ground and you gulp down nothing but air as you try to open your eyes. It’s not that different from your closed vision and there are a few white stars blinding you in the dark, but you can still make out the shape of your partner, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand before he’s leaning over your leg to check the control panel. It’s then that you can feel it, pressed against your shin. He’s hard as a fucking rock. “Y-you need—” But your voice is a garbled mess, exhausted from the alcohol and the Shakes, and he turns to you, fingers dancing up your calves before slowly pulling your ruined panties back up your thighs.

“Up,” he orders quietly, and you lift your hips up enough for him to slip them firmly back onto your hips. “And it’s fine. I told you. I’m good with the Shakes.”

“Yeah, but, y’know…” you mumble, “could be good.” You can feel him smiling as he leans over to kiss your neck blindly, still finding that tender juncture of your shoulder. You grin, your hands finding his shoulders and roaming his back, feeling the curved muscle of a military man. You know his type.

Continuing downward, down his sides…

“You do owe me,” he murmurs and you nod as he pulls back just as the sound of beeping on the other end of the door.

“Mhm, don’t wanna stay in debt,” you say just as the sound of whirring fills the heated silence and your grin grows as you expectedly raise one of your hands to shield the light about to fill their little closet. You pull your other hand away and you begin pulling the loops out on your heels, sliding your aching feet out of those torture shoes. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again in the future, huh? Pay you back then.”

The door slides open and you stand as he scrambles to his feet as well. At least, you can see his features clearly, and you grin because he’s just as handsome as the first time you saw him.

Absolute score.

With your fingers hooked on your shoes, you wipe the bit of slick he missed on the corner of his mouth. He grabs your hand before it drops, pressing a cheeky kiss to the center of your palm and you roll your eyes.

“That’s fine with me,” he replies, squinting against the light and you tap his cheek. “See you around, Flyboy.” You flash him one last smile before leaving the closet first and walking down the hall. Your knees are still trembling and you feel like you’re a complete mess as you stagger through the metal hallway. Exhaustion is telling you to just go the fuck to sleep right then and there, but you can’t. Not until you get back to your ship and get into hyperspace.

As soon as you’ve rounded a corner, you run with everything you have.

It’s only a matter of time before Poe Dameron realizes that the chip that was in his pocket is making its way to another buyer.

Yvonna totally owes you.

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0hcicero · 3 years

Text

Rules: Tag 9 people you want to know better.

I was tagged by @roamingbadger :D It's been so long since I've been tagged in anything! Thanks babes!

Three ships: I am woefully not in massive shipping mode right now, and it's weird to ship characters from a book you're writing, so here are the ships I love in the shows I've watched recently - Ted/Rebecca (Ted Lasso), Gregory/Janine (Abbott Elementary), Rosaline/Benvolio (Still Star-Crossed) -- also, honourary mention to Perc'ahlia from the Legend of Vox Machina (because I've just finished watching the series) First ever ship: I feel like I'm going to date myself very badly here, but it was two ships, Eowyn/Faramir (obvs), and then uhhh in Smallville, Clark/Chloe. I'm pretty sure the first two fanfics I ever wrote (under a terrible pseudonym bc being 13 yrs old will do that to you) on fanfiction.net were Lord of the Rings. *grizzled Sam Elliot voice* Ahhh, the old days of the fanfiction wild west, when you couldn't tag for shit and 12 year olds were hunting twee little plot bunnies and announcing they didn't own characters, but had definitely taken them hostage to force them to kiss, just like their older sister's barbies.

Last Song: Round & Round by Common Tiger, Sir Bishop, Nathan -- It's kinda downtempo indie hiphop and it's been in my headphones a lot lately - it's got a great vibe for working and doing stuff and it's just delightful! Fully recommend. Last Film: Scream 5!!! It was SO GOOD GUYS! Total redemption from Scream 4, Solid script, great story, super funny, and amazing acting. It was done by the same guys who did Ready or Not, with Williamson as a producer, so you know the quips were great and also there was clearly big love for the franchise and for horror as a genre. The kills are brutal but not over-the-top gore, the soundtrack works so well, and the storytelling choices were clutch. It was a truly fantastic fucking film and it was everything I hoped it would be!

Currently watching: Ahhh I'm gonna show my whole nerd ass here, but Campaign 3 of Critical Role (Bell's Hells). I'm not currently obsessed with any scripted TV shows at the moment, so livestream dnd shows are really my jam right now - tons of great character development, hilarity, and a weirdly enticing format, which creates this sort of metadialogue between the actors at the table and the characters in the game. Also the use of mechanics and chance as part of the tools of storytelling is such a wild thing, and its crazy to see the Dice decide the nature of the story FOR YOU. I just find it all really fascinating, the stories fresh and interesting, and because they tend to be reaaaaally long and stretch over multiple years, they're incredibly well-developed and full of depth. And because of that, I will also plug Critical Role's animated TV show about their first campaign, The Legend of Vox Machina, which is an adult animated fantasy series, and its hilarious, doesn't take itself too seriously, is full of gags, gore, and is fairly raunchy at parts. It's fun! The music is great!! The animation is incredible, the fight scenes are golden, and the story is *italian chef's kiss* Season 1 is out on Amazon Prime!

Currently consuming: I'm gonna take a note out of @roamingbadger's playbook and go with food/drink here - Coffee with milk and sugar, and a slice of banana coconut coffee cake with espresso coconut glaze. I made it last night, this is the first slice, and dang, it's tasty!

Currently craving: dnd and writing...I'm kinda burnt out at the moment with work being truly crazy right now, so my original fiction fantasy novel that I'm working on is not getting the kind of attention I hoped it would, having taken a week off work for recouperation. I'm also building a dnd game world based on the worldbuilding I'm doing for this novel, which I also love a lot, and mostly I just crave spending time in this world I created and enjoying all the cool things about it, either running a game in it, or writing a story in it. For a writer, I think when I found dnd I stumbled into my personal crack den - story telling? as a game? with friends? and booze? and like fun little miniatures? YES PLEASE. Tagging (Totes ignore if its not your vibe): @mrbadwitch, @criticalrolo, @typicalbrunette, @wildnoutinwildemount, @quietstorm-thundathighs, @randomfandomteacher @nerdlove4thewin, @jessiecrimefighter, @imeeshuu

#tag game #have fun!

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honey-dewey · 4 years

Text

Game Night

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,722

Warnings: none

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

It’s game night in the Morales household. The boys and you all sit down with drinks and snacks and decide to play one of the most friendship ruining games on the planet. Who will win the cutthroat game of monopoly?

“Babe, can you get the door?” You shouted, hearing Frankie shuffle around the living room. “The boys are here!”

Frankie eagerly bounded to the door, almost falling on his face on the slippery wooden floors. He quickly righted himself and pulled the door open, embracing Benny, Will, and Santiago in one go.

“Boys!” You said cheerily as they entered the house. “C’mon! I made dip, and there’s drinks in the fridge, and there’s also a secret dessert.”

“If you weren’t married, I would get on one knee, here and now,” Benny said, pulling you into a hug. “You are the best!”

You laughed. “Yeah? Let’s see how that holds up. I distinctly remember cleaning my carpets for a week after our last game night.”

“Excuse you!” Will called from the living room. “Benny called me a dumb whore for charging him money! I couldn’t let that slide!”

Laughing, you cleared away the coasters and remotes from the living room table, leaving it blank for tonight’s game.

Frankie grabbed a box from the supply closet and set it down on the living room coffee table. The box in question was beat up and held together with packing tape, but the name of the game was still legible. Monopoly.

“Are we playing teams?” Frankie asked as you all gathered around the table, you setting the snacks down and going out to grab beers for the boys.

“If we are, I call Frankie!” You shouted from the kitchen.

Will snorted. “You’re married. Of course you’ll be a team. Benny?”

Benny fist-bumped his brother. “Hell yeah!”

“And me?” Santiago said, amusement making his voice light.

“Pope,” Frankie said. “Every time we play, you kick all our asses. You don’t need a team.”

Santiago snorted. “Sounds fair,” he said. “Although, I would appreciate a partner to teach my secrets to.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. Ever since you and Frankie had gotten married, Santiago had been bugging you for a baby. You had no idea why he wanted you to have one so bad, but he did.

“Pope, if I do end up pregnant, I promise you’ll be the second person I tell,” you said, leaning towards the table and grabbing your favorite piece. The horse and rider. “Right after my husband.”

Santiago grabbed his piece, the battleship, and smiled. “Of course.”

Benny and Will took their piece, the cannon, and you all set the pieces down.

“Who’s rolling first?” Frankie asked, grabbing the dice and holding them out.

Will rolled for his team first, getting a solid 8. Santiago went next, rolling a 10.

“Good luck,” you said to Frankie, leaning on his shoulder as he rolled the dice. A quick count of the dots gave you an 11.

“Fuck yeah!” Frankie said happily, scooping up the dice again. “We get to go first.”

Nothing much happened for your first go around of the board. Everyone knew the strategy of ‘wait to see how the game would play out’ and that had led to plenty of long monopoly games. You and Frankie agreed on the light blue and pink properties, and managed to buy Vermont and Virginia in two turns. You also, after a quick discussion, bought Illinois when you landed on it, knowing that the reds and the yellows were Santiago’s strategy.

Another go around of the board, and the strategies began to emerge. You and Frankie got two railroads and another two properties in your target area, and it seemed that Will and Benny were too busy trying to outsmart Santiago that they didn’t even realize you and Frankie were very slowly taking over half the board. Santiago, in true Santiago fashion, kept his strategy as hidden as possible, buying properties from the entire board instead of focusing on one area. By the time you’d all passed Go again, tension was still, surprisingly, low.

That changed quickly. You and Frankie bought what was affectionately referred to as ‘the slums’ but was actually just the two brown properties with a lucky roll of snake eyes, and through a well timed chance card, Will and Benny ended up in jail, both agreeing that it was complete bullshit while Santiago laughed.

“Houses?” Frankie murmured in your ear as he added the second brown card to your stack.

You glanced at what Santiago had and what the brothers had. “Wait. Santi’s trying to edge us off those orange properties, but give it another go around. He’s got that last blue one, Connecticut, but we’ve got Illinois, which he needs. And I’ve got no clue what Will and Benny are doing.”

Frankie nodded, taking the dice and rolling again, getting you two the last pink property.

“I’m gonna go grab more food, anyone want anything?” You asked, standing and looking around.

“Another drink?” Benny asked, holding up his empty beer bottle.

You took it, scanning the table for anything else you could recycle. “Of course,” you said. “How about I bring out the prize tonight, hm?”

The boys cheered. Monopoly wasn’t a game where you often congratulated the winner. In fact, half the time Frankie managed to beat everyone, you jokingly refused to kiss him. But tonight, you wanted to up the stakes.

Grabbing another beer for Benny, you balanced a covered pie tin with your other hand and walked back into the living room, where Frankie was happily arranging what had been collected in Free Parking.

“Boys!” You announced happily. “Tonight’s victor will be awarded the grand prize of,” you pulled the tin foil off the pie tin. “A homemade cherry pie.”

Immediately, everyone went wild. You laughed, covering the pie back up and setting it down on the kitchen counter. “Shall we keep playing?”

The game continued, a few more go arounds of the board securing the final few properties. You and Frankie had almost every property you wanted, along with three of the four railroads.

“Uh, guys,” Benny said finally after you charged him for a railroad. “Team lovebirds are destroying us right now. How’d we let that happen? How did no one notice?”

You laughed, grabbing the dice and rolling them. “I guess we’ll be keeping that pie.”

“Not if I can help it!” Santiago held up the final light blue card. “Suck it!”

“Mhm, we’ve got that last red one,” you pointed out, moving your piece and reluctantly handing Benny and Will some money. “Whenever you’re ready to trade, we’ll be here.”

Will whistled, pushing the dice towards Santiago. “Dude, that’s rough.”

Santiago leaned forward. “Nah. I want that damn pie.”

Not long after that, Benny and Will went bankrupt, much to their disappointment. However, it meant they could man the bank and they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire that would become your game.

The game continued to drag on, neither you nor Santiago willing to back down. Money was exchanged, Will and Benny’s properties were bought, and houses were built.

By the time anything interesting happened, you and Frankie had a solid chokehold on half the board. It was a war of attrition, a simple back and forth of the money. And then, by some miracle, you rolled the dice and landed on free parking.

It was a crushing blow for poor Santiago. Suddenly, you and Frankie were up by almost five thousand dollars, able to afford a bunch of houses and, very slowly, you were able to drive Santiago to bankruptcy.

“Damn!” He yelled, realizing he was done. “Good game, damn I cannot believe I lost.”

You grinned, standing. “Pack all of this up. I’ll go cut the pie.”

While the boys cleaned, you got five plates, putting a slice of pie on each one. Using old waiting skills and going very slowly, you carried all five plates out.

“Jeez babe!” Frankie said, jumping up to help you. “Gimme some of those! You could’ve asked for help.”

“I had it,” you reassured, sitting on the couch and sinking your fork into the pie. “Fuck, that is beautiful.”

For the rest of the night, you and the boys ate, drank, and pulled out a deck of Uno cards to keep the fun going. Of course, Benny kicked all your asses, but he was the only one who ever actually strategized Uno. Everyone else enjoyed tipsy fun, laughing when someone got screwed and groaning when someone won.

Eventually, some time well past midnight, you sent everyone to bed, or the couch in Santiago’s case. That included Frankie, who pulled you into your shared bedroom and grinned. “Babe, I got a question.”

“Fire away.”

Frankie came up behind you, putting his hands against your belly. “When are we gonna tell them?”

“Tomorrow,” you murmured, resting your hands overtop Frankie’s. “I wanna watch Santi spit coffee out his nose.”

Chuckling, Frankie led you to bed. “You’re evil.”

The next morning, you gave each of the boys a coffee cup, smiling as you received sleepy murmurs.

“Hey Benny,” you called, opening the fridge and peering into it. “You got any use for a perfectly good bottle of wine?”

“Uh, why?” Benny asked, looking up from his mug.

You shrugged. “Frankie’s not a wine guy and I can’t drink it.”

“Yes you can,” Will said. “You drank a whole bottle with Benny last month.”

“Bitch, I wasn’t pregnant last month.”

As you’d guessed last night, Santiago choked on his coffee, coughing so violently that Frankie had to thump him on the back a few times. “What?” He yelled when he was finally able to talk again.

“I’m pregnant,” you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Surprise. You’re all gonna be uncles.”

Santiago fist pumped the air. “Hell yeah! I get a monopoly partner!”

You laughed, doubling over the counter. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“I have my priorities,” Santiago said with a smile.

Benny stood, looking you up and down. “Can I touch? Please?”

You shrugged, gesturing him closer. “Nothing to touch yet, but yeah.”

Benny’s hand was warm on your belly, and he grinned at the expanse of exposed skin. “Hey,” he said directly to the baby. “I’m your uncle Benny.”

“Ben,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re talking to a month old bean.”

But now Will was beside you, and so was Santi, and there was Frankie behind you. Surrounded by your boys, you grinned. “I love this family.”

#Triple Frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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hobiwonder · 4 years

Text

Bloom | 01

Genre: Hybrid!Namkook. fluorescence by @jincherie AU

Pairing: foxhybrid!Namjoon x Reader x bunnyhybrid!Jungkook ;(

Warnings: language. mention of hybrid trafficing/being sold into sex trafficing, fluff holy shit, angst, Smut (future), very cuddly and shy jungkook, stuttery shy BOYS. I really just wrote this for me.

Words: 5k+

Summary: In a world where humanity is increasingly motivated by how much cash can be made off of... well anything, you’re a human and hybrid rights lawyer. You will do anything to save the ones that never had a choice right from the date of their conception. Even if that means, adopting two hybrids that you absolutely did not mean to.

a/n: hello hello im back from the dead iuhbIUHBUYBGUY okay so, yes this isnt baby baby but i am a bit behind on that so i really hope posting this instead can satiate my sluts for a few more days until i have that done. I have a lot of this written so I will post this on a semi-regular schedule. rest of the schedule i posted will stay the same. it’s just baby baby that’s kicking my BUTT!!!! Lastly, I started writing this before Goo Hara passed away. Opening this document made me a little sad and also happy when i remember Hara and her love for eco-friendly fashion. I guess, this is kind of a tribute to her? anyhow, I hope you guys like it. please please please, validate me. :>)

"Y/n they're going to be sold to this man who works for a black market. What do I do? Oh god. I-I didn't know our company was into that business."

Your best friend is nearing the point of tears and you can understand her frustration. "Listen, Hara, take a deep breath and tell me when exactly this is happening."

A deep breath is taken as you'd suggested, before you hear Hara's voice again through the phone. "Okay... Okay. I was just told by Minseok that there is an auction for the remaining two from the past failed batches. Apparently two others have been adopted and the rest have been pawned off somewhere. I'm not sure. From our division of the company, these two are the ones that have not gone for further testing to be open to the regular public. A-And so now there is a super secret auction happening tonight. It's not open to the regular public as you already know but staff members are able to attend. What do I do y/n? I can't afford them. I have my own to deal with. These poor boys will go to some horrible owner who will use them f-for god knows what."

Now Hara was crying. Openly and brokenly for the possible fate of these 'failed' hybrids that her company had produced. This was a sticky situation and even you, a Human and hybrid rights lawyer, had limited ideas as to what could be done on such a short notice. But you were not about to give up.

"Hara, don't. They will not be bought by some hybrid trafficker okay? I won't let it happen. I will... I will at least try. It's my job, remember?"

Your optimism is convincing enough. And you wholeheartedly believed that something would give. These big corporations had their toes in everywhere and you didn’t yet know if they had already had a designated buyer on the black market they pawned their hybrids off to. Where there was money to be made - no company had morals rigid enough to stop themselves from the temptation. You already lived in an age where human trafficking was no longer a cause for activism or big debates. Not when more species - man made or not - had been created to take advantage of.

“Okay yeah. You’re a badass lawyer, you must have something up your sleeve right?” Her voice is shaky but you confirm with an enthusiastic nod she can’t see.

“Of course! I’ll kick their asses. Surely this can’t be legal? No blackmarket is. Let me have a look at what can be done. I’m assuming you can bring a plus one tonight?”

“Yeah I-I was given a ticket. You’ll be coming with me right?”

“That’s why I asked, silly.” Her relieved chuckle brings a smile to your own lips.

“I’ll see you there. Don’t give up hope until I do, alright?”

“Okay... You’re right.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Fuck this. Fuck my life.” The curses escaped your mouth left and right as you looked over the dozens and dozens of papers splayed out on your oak desk.

Even your comfortable office chair couldn’t stop the knot building up between your shoulder blades. This was bad. Really bad. Corporate law allowed unfit materials to be sold to third parties. What these third parties did with those materials - the company of origin was no longer liable for. In short: These hybrids were going to be bought by someone sketchy with a crystal clear profile and no paper trail unless someone bid higher and bought them.

None of these bastards were rookies. They had solid paperwork where necessary and it would be near impossible to prove their illegal activities when all of them took place on the dark web. A place that opened up more threats and risks than solutions. No legislation covered hybrid rights that weren’t even registered yet. Whoever bought them would have to register them and then the hybrids would be able to receive the minimum protection they had a right to.But you can bet your father’s company that whoever bought them will never register them. Essentially these hybrids will be wiped out from the system.

Fingertips tapping against the wood, each passing minute was precious time lost. it was already 5pm. You had to leave for the dreaded auction in less than an hour and hour and yet here you sat in your chair. Hands itching to do something other than pick up the phone and tell Hara that you were at a loss. What could you do? Who would take them? You didn’t know anyone that was ready to add not one but two hybrids to their household. And ones that were not fully approved to be released. You couldn’t just lie and pawn them off to just anyone. Then you would not be any better than the company trying to get rid of them.

Sighing, you pack up the papers and documents you had initially thought would help. They were of no use anymore. All you could do was go and offer support to Hara. Or Maybe you were going because you still had hope that there would be someone who would save those hybrids. Hope was a dangerous thing for a woman like you but you had it. This was no time to wallow. So you smooth your skirt, touch up your makeup and put on your heels that had men double take.

Maybe you could scare and/or seduce these people in changing their mind?

You laugh at your absurdity, glancing in the mirror one last time before you leave with stacks of files in your hands. You could at least stall them.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Y/n! Thank god you’re here.” I’m not so sure about that. Though you opt for a gentle smile and meet her embrace enthusiastically.

You can hear the sniffles coming from Hara who has her head buried in your shoulder. “Hey, no crying okay? No matter what happens.” The comment has her pulling back just as quickly.

“What do you mean? You have a plan for tonight r-right? Y/n..”

How could you do this? Lie to her? This was not fair on her. On anyone really. It wasn’t your fault and neither hers for whatever would happen tonight. She needed to know what to expect. As much as your heart clenched and ached to say the words you were about to; it was important to mentally prepare for the worst.

“Hara... I couldn’t find anything.” Your frown is apologetic. Trying to convey how really truly sorry you were but it doesn’t stop the tears from brewing up in her eyes.

“Oh.. I thought- thought they had a chance y/n.” You reach out for her hand, wanting to alleviate her hurt as soon as possible.

“I will at least try to see who will buy them okay? Don’t worry. We can keep an eye out on who gets them. They will be alive at least, right?” Your attempt at finding a silver lining doesn’t make her look any more reassured than you felt.

Glancing at your watch, you motion towards the building. “Come on. Let’s go before they try and kick us out.”

Hara nods, numbly leading the way towards an auditorium where several people had already taken their seats. You’re not sure how many people you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t... this. There were at best 10 people here. All ten seemingly looked like they knew each other. This could only mean one thing. That this sale was to some degree, arranged. As in, multiple buyers were from the same company posing as separate customers to maximise their chances of acquiring the hybrids.

“Hara, have you seen any of these people before?” Your whisper has her craning her neck to have a good look at all of the men sitting in the front few rows.

“No, I don’t think so.” Her furrowed brows turn to you instead, “Do you recognise any of them?”

Shaking your head, you follow her down the stairs to sit in the row behind the last pair of buyers who were sitting.

“Whoever they are... they don’t look like they are all strangers.” Hara is gripping on to your arm when she hears you, visibly nervous once again. “I’m just speculating, okay?”

Your attempt to ease her, once again, is not enough. But you don’t try again since you don’t even believe your own words. The auctioneer however, stops you from thinking further about the impending events of the night. The man stands in a lab coat, glancing at his watch before he brings his mouth closer to the mic on the dice.

“Let’s begin gentleman... and ladies.” He seems to be surprised to see you and Hara sitting at the back. And before he begins further, he motions someone. Another man approaches the auctioneer and listens carefully as the other whispers. A few seconds later, his eyes fall back to where you sat with your best friend.

Hara’s grasp on your arm tightens once again when the man heads to your general direction. On instinct, your back straightens, posture more solid than before so as to not give anyone the wrong impression that they can mess with you unwarrantedly.

“Excuse me Miss.?”

“Yes?” Your curt reply surprises him but he recovers fast, glancing towards Hara before talking to you again.

“Are you a guest of Ms. Hara?”

“Obviously.” Your unwavering gaze visibly unnerves him. It was obvious to anyone there but you had an idea this was some sort of test.

“May I see your ticket please?” His bogus smile annoys you more than it should. Nonetheless, Hara is fishing out the ticket from her purse and showing the man. He inspects it longer than he should and finally walks back to the auctioneer to let him know you had the right to be here.

“Who would do that if they weren’t running a hoax?” You ask Hara before you can stop yourself.

“Alright. Apologies for the delay. We will now begin. As you are all aware, we are auctioning two of our very elite hybrids from a rare batch. They have not progressed to the next stage of screenings and tests due to some technical difficulties. Thus, we are here to give them a chance at a new home rather than a painful end.” He looks in the audience for effect. Euthanasia is what he meant.

“These hybrids are fully functional however lack a few abilities they were initially designed for. Due to these technical issues deeming them failed to proceed, they are available for purchase at a much lower cost than what they are sold for on the market.” The auctioneer looks so smug the urge to smack his across the face is almost irresistible.

“Right, bring them out Wonho.” Everyone is watching carefully, waiting for the ‘failed’ hybrids and you don’t know what you were expecting.

Not what you see though. Definitely not. Because the two - tall - hybrids entering the stage are not what you expect. Peach and silver tones greet your eyes as well as incredibly sculpted faces. The peach haired hybrid seems to cling to the silver haired one. The man leading the two hybrids seems to be frustrated with their slow pace, giving the peach haired hybrid a little shove and there is only so much you can do to not yell at the top of your lungs for him to get his hands off of them.

The man sighs, letting the two hybrids to just stand in the middle when the peach haired one does not stand apart from the other hybrid. While the shorter of the two hybrids - and much, much shyer - looks around anxiously at the people in the auditorium, the silver haired one has his features set in stone. His eyes don’t look alarmed, they don’t seem scared. He just looks numb. He stares ahead at the people sitting in front of him while the peach haired boy visibly shakes, breathing fast and eyes flitting across every surface. He takes a step back, hiding part of his body behind his silver haired companion for comfort.

“There you have them. The peach haired specimen is a Oryctolagus cuniculus or - a bunny in more simplistic terms. The silver haired specimen is an arctic fox, Vulpes lagopus. Both hybrids are off a rare species and very sought after on the market. Due to technical issues, once again, unfortunately, we are only able to sell them in a pair. They are useless on their own.”

The candid way the auctioneer speaks of them has your blood boiling. But what gets you more is the laughter that sounds in the auditorium. Did these assholes think they were funny? The hybrids - entirely human or not - were present in the room with them. Did they not have any ounce of respect for them? Hara was not faring any better. Watching with a frown as chatter continued among the buyers. The bunny looked even more disturbed, looking around at every man in the front few rows - before his eyes landed on you.

The gasp that leaves you is abrupt. His pained expression holds your gaze, eyes wide and chest heaving. The bunny jumps when the auctioneer speaks again.

“We will now start the bid at $1000. $1200 anyone?” Several hands go up before the auctioneer raises the price to $1400.

Bald, greasy men exchanging glances and crude remarks as they talk amongst themselves. Your heart is thumping, your blood thinning. With each passing second, your throat seems to be closing up. There was nothing you could do to save them, was there? The further the price went up, the more panicked and distraught the bunny looked, gripping his fox companion harder, hiding behind him even more. The silver haired fox looked much like what you had stopped Hara from looking only this morning. Hopeless. His mouth was set in a thin line - just taking in the scenario in front of him. It was obvious he saw his fate before his very eyes and instead of futilely hoping that someone would save them - he stares his aggressors in the eyes.

“Brilliant! We’re at $3000 for the gentleman in the first row. Anyone for $3500?” The said man looked positively smug, sitting with his legs spread lewdly. Most likely sure that no one would contest that price.

Definitely not you.

“$4000.” Your voice yelling above everyone else is even foreign to your own ears. An outer body experience as you watch yourself look the auctioneer straight in his eyes, daring anyone in the room to go higher up on the price. But most of all, you watch the silver haired hybrid’s gaze waver for the first time - looking at you in such surprise like it was the first time he was noticing you.

“Ah... Anyone for $4500?” Only one other hand goes up. The man that had been the prospective buyer before. His face is ballooning with the amount of blood that’s rushing to it.

“Y/n? What are you doin?!” Hara’s frantic whispering flies over your head as you call out once more.

“$6000. Final offer.” You look at the other men in the seats beneath you, challenging them to dispute your offer.

The atmosphere is tense, thick with the tension brewing inside the auditorium and yet you don’t shy away from the angry glares being shot your way. A minute passes. No more offers.

“Sold to Miss?”

“Y/n.”

“-Miss Y/n. Thank you all for participating.” The loud chatter is instantaneous as the auctioneer motions the other lab rat to, assumably, gather the hybrids and their things.

“Y/N! Oh my god.” Hara has all but engulfed you in a tight hug once more. Shaking you slightly out of your own shock. This was not what you had planned but it was done.

She finally pulls back, checking you over like you were ill. “A-Are you sure about this? Oh god, okay we need to head up to the podium.”

Just like she doesn’t wait for your answer, you had not waited for your own either. You hadn’t even asked yourself the question before you had so blindly bid on the two hybrids. You’d been waiting for someone to save them. Someone to come barging in and take them away from these cruel people. Never in a millenia had you thought that someone might be you.

“Here you are Miss. You can deposit a check right now or eftpos the payment. Up to you.”

Benumbed, you take out your phone to open the phone banking application. When you’ve made sure there are sufficient funds transferred from your savings account, you wave your card in front of the auctioneer wordlessly. From the corner of your eyes, you can feel the two hybrids watching you. You wished they had at least let them wait in some sort of waiting room and not witness the jarring experience of several people bidding over them.

“Excellent! The transaction has been approved and a receipt will be emailed to you if you can fill out this form here.” Glancing at the hybrids standing a few feet away from you, clutching a duffle bag each, you try and put down your details as fast as you can.

They had already looked like they wanted to be as farther away from this place as possible and the feeling was mutual. Hara was beside you the whole time, waiting for any cue from you to provide some sort of support or whatever you needed her to do. And if your tongue worked - you would thank her as you filled out the space on the form asking you of your email address. It was sickening how easy it was for you to just... buy them! Would they not do a security or police check on you? Make sure that these hybrids are going to at least a safe home?

You were aware of the long process of hybrids that were ordered from the company. The company had a thorough process of making sure their clients were reputable and trust-worthy. That they wouldn’t do bodily harm to the hybrids but that was a facade so these companies wouldn’t have to spend money in compensation if a client had abused their hybrid in any way and had not been satisfied with what they had ordered. It was a guise. These people didn’t give two shits if the hybrids were not of expectation and couldn’t make them money.

“Am I done here?” Your tone was curt and the auctioneer could sense it.

The fact that you’d fished out more than enough cash for some ‘failed’ hybrids - he was interested in you as a potential future client. You were aware that hybrids of their breed went for $5000 - maximum. The previous greasy bald man had been close to closing a deal for $3000 until you had butted in. So obviously, they were going to kiss your ass.

“Yes Ma’am. That’s all we needed. The hybrids are good to go. Their bags have their guidebooks with them. Thank you for shopping with us.” his bright smile makes you want to hit him with your designer bag.

But even this leather was too good to be wasted on these assholes. “Y/N? Please look a little more friendly. You’ll scare the bunny away.” Hara is speed walking besides you, trying to convince you to soften your stance when you stop right before the bench they had been sitting on.

“Follow me, boys.” You’re not rude. You don’t sound mean either. But you don’t particularly sound like you wanted them. And as much as that was the truth to some degree, you didn’t not want them.

The silver haired hybrid hesitates - watching you with wide, curious eyes. Not the harsh way his eyes had scanned the room before but not exactly friendly and enthusiastic like the bunny. The bunny that was currently tugging on the silver fox’s sleeve wordlessly. His doe eyes silently ask his friend to follow you. But when his feet stay rooted to the same spot, you can’t help but sigh.

“Is there a problem?” A moment’s silence. Then finally the silver haired boy shakes his head, grasping the bunny’s hand and follows you out of the building.

Hara is gripping your hand, relieved tears in her eyes and you can’t keep looking. Because you couldn’t promise her that you would take good care of them. “Thank you Y/n. You didn’t have to do that but... but you did. You’re a good person and these boys are lucky to have you.”

Her eyes are earnest. You know she means every word and she can sense your inner turmoil at your own ability to take care of them. The boys can’t hear you both talking since they are standing near your car, obediently waiting for you. Taking a look at them huddled in the back seat, you turn back to Hara.

“Thanks Har. I will try my best. They deserve a shot at a normal and secure life. I won’t let you down.”

“And you,” she cups your face, making you look back at her. “You deserve love too. I have seen the bunny hybrid in the lab. He will heal all your wounds too. Please be happy and patient with them, okay?”

You nod, a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but genuine nonetheless. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”

You just wave her goodbye, standing until her car pulls away. Looking back at the two boys waiting patiently in the car - you take a moment to gather yourself.

“Fuck... fuck. Fuck!” You don’t scream out loud. not really. But anyone walking by would be able to see you were stalling something. That something is going to your car and then going home.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to bite the bullet and face the reality. Getting in the driver’s seat, you look back at the two hybrids watching you from your rearview mirror. Giving them a small smile, you notice the bunny hybrid’s shoulders relax a little.

“Let’s go home.” Your voice is light and airy. Hoping to put them at ease. They were yours now.

You were their saviour.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Home sweet home.” Letting them pass you, entering the condo, you let them take in their surroundings.

The bunny is still latched on to the taller hybrid’s flannel, hiding behind him when the fox hybrid comes to stand beside a couch. Both of them look at you - as if waiting for you to allow them to sit. The silver haired fox is holding on to the bunny’s hand, watching you with a dour look.

“Go on.” You head motions towards the comfortable three seater couch. “Have a seat. No need to be shy.”

Of course, you want to palm yourself after your remark. Of course they were shy. Well, the bunny mostly. The fox looked to be very suspicious and not exactly friendly. Though you could understand his apprehension. He was about to be sold to some very nefarious people. He seemed to be a bit older than the bunny and had a look of ambiance that only came with experiencing harsh times. Your heart felt for him.

The bunny doesn’t wait too long, sitting on the couch - well plopping is more like it - whereas the fox takes his time, battling with himself if he should or not. When you keep watching him, waiting for him to sit, he thankfully gives in and sits besides his friend.

Once you can tell that they are comfortable - as comfortable as they can be, you ask your first question. “So, what are your names?”

You smile at them gently, letting them know you are their friend. At least hoping that they can conclude that from the fact that you told them about their new home on the car ride over.

The bunny’s eyes are wide, face heating up as if you asked him a rather scandalous question and not just his name. Your heart skips a beat when the lovely blush blossoms across his face that’s hiding in the fox’s shoulder.

“Well? Can you tell me, bun? What’s your name?” Your question being directed to the bunny only makes the blush more visible. You could see his face reddening further in embarrassment and the colour being rather more visible on his neck too.

The smile doesn’t diminish from your face. Not even after seeing the way the fox is almost glaring at you but you were positive that the bunny wasn’t hiding because he was afraid of you.

“J-Jungkook. ‘m J-Jungk-kook” The answer proves to be too much for him to mumble, lips catching his plumper bottom lip as he peeks at you through one eye that isn’t hidden in the fox’s shoulder.

“Jungkook. That’s a lovely name, bun.” Your smile widens when you see the corners of his mouth stirring up a little at your compliment.

Your heart was so full. Never did you think you would feel these dizzying emotions at a pretty boy merely muttering his name. His name. If this was your reaction at finding out one of their names, you were not going to survive getting to know them before you went full mother-hen mode on anyone that tried to harm them.

“What about you, hm?” Your smile is a lingering effect of just looking at Jungkook’s adorable blushing face and you don’t let it falter even if the fox hybrid is visibly more aloof.

‘Be patient with them y/n.’ You remind yourself of Hara’s words over and over.

“Namjoon.” The smile halts briefly at the deep timbre of his tone. You had not been expecting him to sound like molten chocolate and sweeter than honey. You realise you wanted to hear him more. Hear him speak about mundane topics over and over because that’s how good he sounded to you.

“Namjoon.” the name rolls off your tongue smoothly, just like his voice. You’re still watching his face, waiting for any sort of reaction even if it’s not as endearing as Jungkook’s. Just something. But his face remains passive. A slight twitch of his lips but that’s it. The pessimistic part of your brain convinces you that it could have been a frown and not a smile that he’s fought away.

But you needed to remain positive.

“T-That’s… a very nice name too.” He doesn’t look convinced at your reply though. Namjoon continues to watch you and now you’re the one blushing from the heat of his stare.

Jungkook is watching Namjoon just as cautiously as you. Like he expected him to be like that. Austere and unwilling to be forthcoming with information about himself. Telling yourself that he’ll adjust with time, you opt for a smile that’s sent Jungkook’s way - making the bunny hide behind Namjoon again. Almost like when a child is cautious and shys away from a stranger they meet. That’s what it was. A childlike innocence to Jungkook which awoke every instinct in you to protect him. Maybe that’s why his eyes had convinced you that you needed to take them home with you.

“Okay boys. I’ll show you to your rooms.” Furrowing your brows at the way Jungkook clutches Namjoon harder with panicked eyes, you turn around to look at them again.

“You don’t need to stay in separate rooms if you don’t want to, okay?” Namjoon regards you with a look before nodding - eyes cast down once again.

“Good. You both are very quiet but that’s okay - I can talk enough for the three of us.” The wink that you send Jungkook’s way only has him sputtering with embarrassment as the lovely rose tints his full round cheeks.

“But you do have to tell me when you are not okay with something, alright? I can’t read your pretty little heads.” As you say the last few words, your hand reaches out to shuffle the bunny’s peach hair.

What you don’t expect, is him flinching away so violently that even you are startled, taking a step back. Jungkook is hiding behind Namjoon completely now, shaking and you want to reach out. Say sorry and take it all back.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“Hey, kook, it’s alright. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s voice reverberates through the quiet hallway, soothing the bunny’s shaking frame, whispering gentle assurances and you’re about to choke up.

What happened to him? Who did this to him. For him to be this scared. Watching Namjoon hug the shaking bunny tightly, sniffling away in his chest, only makes you feel more guilty at your brash treatment. Were you coming on too strong? God you were so out of your depth.

“I didn’t mean to scare you Jungkook. Honey..” You’re trying your best to reach out to him but the way Namjoon stands between you and him like a wall - it’s obvious he was waiting for something like this to happen. He was cautious of you and now his beliefs have been reinforced to not trust you or whatever nonsense he’s thinking.

You couldn’t blame him though. You really couldn’t.

“Please be careful, miss. He’s not a toy.” Namjoon’s voice trembles. Just the way - you now notice - his bottom lip does. He’s holding back tears and you really don’t know what to do. Except try your best to take their pain away.

“I’m.. I’m really sorry Namjoon. I didn’t mean to upset him.” You open the door to the room quickly, making sure there are blankets and pillows on the bed before coming out to tell them.

“Take him inside Namjoon. I’ll… I’ll leave you two alone, for now. Let me know if you need anything?” Namjoon merely nods, not being able to look you in the eyes but the bite of his lip tells you he’s trying to hold it together.

Jungkook’s hiccups catch your attention and you pull yourself out of your self-pity session. Only wanting to make sure that both of the hybrids are comfortable and just not feeling the way they are right now. Gesturing your head forward again, you nod at Namjoon when he looks at you one last time before heading into the room. The bunny holds onto Namjoon tightly, letting him walk into the room and when they are fully in - you close the door behind them. Giving them their privacy and also because you had a feeling they needed to be by themselves to really understand their current situation. That you were their new owner and this was their home.

A permanent home.

#bts smut #bangtan smut #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #btsghostie #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook fluff #namjoon fluff #ok hopefully this works #pls provide feedback i am hongry

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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #171

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the Berserker of El Dorado, a.k.a. the CEO of Amazones, a.k.a. yet another reason why Type Moon should stop designing teenage characters. Like several other servants from Agartha her true name is hidden when you meet her, so expect spoilers below the break.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: The reason they call him that is because you have to resist punching him in the face.

Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons, is a Zealot Barbarian for a whole lot of anger issues and godly boons.

Race and Background

Penth’s the daughter of a god and also fuckign terrifying, so that’s why she’s a Fallen Aasimar. When she fell she got +1 Strength and +2 Charisma, as well as Darkvision which explains the black sclera, Celestial Resistance to radiant and necrotic damage, Healing Hands to keep her golden body in top condition, and the Light Bearer cantrip. Your weapons are glowy, this’ll take care of that for now.

You’re queen, but a queen of the amazons, so modify that Noble background to get History and Intimidation proficiency.

Ability Scores

If you want to be the daughter of a war god you’d better be able to war good, so make sure your Strength is as high as possible. Your Dexterity also better be good, I know jumping is strength-based, but running around in half a suit of armor is dex based. It definitely doesn’t look like armor, but it’s spiked, and a +2 to dexterity will let you use medium armor efficiently. After that is Charisma, you’re a shrewd businesswoman and also fucking terrifying for anyone vaguely greek. Your Wisdom’s also pretty solid, you’re good at sniffing out Achilles, and you’ve got an even keener business sense. Constitution isn’t that solid, you’re kind of a glass cannon, but you’re still pretty solid. Finally, dump Intelligence. Half the time you’re a raging ball of teeth and spikes, the other half you’re a CEO. Neither of those make me want to put much faith in your smarts.

Class Levels

1. First level barbarians start of strong (pun intended) with Rage, beefing up as a bonus action for advantage on strength checks & saves, damage resistance, and a bonus to attack damage. You also get Unarmored Defense, making running around in that outfit a slightly less bad idea. Or it would, if your constitution modifier wasn’t +0.

You also get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two barbarian skills. Athletics because you’re literally an amazon, and Perception to help you find that damnable greek hero.

2. At second level, your Reckless Attacks will help you pierce through that jerk’s magic skin, giving you advantage on all attacks for the round, at the cost of taking attacks at advantage. To be fair, your AC’s probably like 12 right now, so it’s not like it makes him more likely to hit you.

You also get a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saves you can see coming, like a fireball. Or a giant careening chariot. Either or.

3. Your brand new Primal Knowledge gives you proficiency with Survival. It’s a dog eat dog world, and now you know how to cook that dog. You also get a Necrotic Shroud as a bonus action, adding necrotic damage to your attacks once per turn for a minute and when you transform you scare the crap out of people nearby if they fail a charisma save. You can transform once per long rest.

On top of your divine blood activating this level, your divine blood activates this level, making you a Zealot barbarian. Your Divine Fury adds even more damage to your attacks once per turn while raging. Pick either necrotic or radiant damage, I’m not your mother, it’s your choice. You also become a Warrior of the Gods, so now reviving you doesn’t cost money. You don’t have a guts skill, so this’ll come in handy.

4. Use your first Ability Score Improvement to become a Dual Wielder, letting you attack with both sides of that giant mace thing using your bonus action. It also gives you +1 AC while dual wielding, that’s nice. Some barbarians have to die to attack with a bonus action, and you got it as a feat.

5. If you want to attack even more, Extra Attack lets you attack twice with your action, so now you can attack three times per turn. Your Fast Movement also adds 10 feet to your movement speed to catch up to that carrot.

6. Your Fanatical Focus lets you re-roll a failed save once per rage. Your golden rule means it’s hard to mess with your body, and this will help with that.

7. Seventh level barbarians get a Feral Instinct, giving you advantage on initiative checks. You can also ignore being surprised if you rage immediately on the first turn of combat. You also get an Instinctive Pounce, moving half your speed when you start a rage. Your rival is basically a manic the hedgehog humansona, so you’ve got to be able to keep up.

8. Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for more damaging and accurate attacks.

9. Ninth level barbs get Brutal Criticals, giving you an extra die of damage when you deal critical hits. Shockingly, giant metal balls hurt when slammed into people. Wild.

10. Tenth level zealots have a Zealous Presence, spending a bonus action once per long rest to inspire nearby creatures to get advantage on attack rolls and saves until your next turn.

11: Eleventh level barbarians get a Relentless Rage to avoid death while raging. If you pass a DC 10 constitution save, you drop to 1 hp instead of 0 and the DC goes up by 5. When you finish a short rest, it goes back to 0. I guess you do have a guts skill after all.

12. Use this ASI to grab the Mobile feat for even more movement speed and the ability to ignore difficult terrain and opportunity attacks. Achilles is really going to have to step his game up here.

13. Another level, another Brutal Critical, making your critical hits even more brutal. Don’t really have a joke for this one, it’s pretty self-explanatory.

14. Fourteenth level zealots can Rage Beyond Death, meaning you can’t die until you stop raging. Damage that takes you to 0 hp still starts the death save train a-rolling, but you don’t die until your rage ends, and even then only if you’re still at 0 hp. It’s a good thing you don’t have the ability to heal yourself right before your rage ends, or that would be busted. Wait...

15. Fifteenth level berserkers get a Persistent Rage, so now your rage only ends if you want it to, or if time runs out, making you immortal for a full minute of combat. Or until someone casts Sleep, a first level spell.

16. For this ASI we’re getting a little experimental with Flail Mastery, a feat from an old Unearthed Arcana. Technically it only applies to flails, but if you can convince your DM to use UA this old you can probably convince him to extend the definition to morningstars too. Anyway, you get +1 to attack rolls, can use your bonus action to negate a shield’s defenses on your attacks for the turn, and your opportunity attacks force a strength save, on a failure the creature gets knocked prone, which eats up half their movement. Not a big deal for a halfling, very big deal for Achilles.

17. Did somebody say Brutal Critical? I did, just now. Speaking of, you get another one of those, meaning your critical hits now deal double the amount of dice plus three extra.

18. Your Indomitable Might means all your strength checks are now at least your strength score, which is pretty freaking good. It’d be even better if we could bump that up higher though...

19. Your last ASI is going towards your str- no, sorry, it’s another feat, now you’re Menacing. This rounds out your Charisma, doubles your proficiency in Intimidation, and you can replace one attack from your action with a contested Intimidation v Insight check against a humanoid. If you succeed, the target is frightened for a turn. Really we’ve just been giving you better versions of the Berserker class features. Shame we couldn’t get that strength up one last time though.

20. Just kidding! Primal Champions get +4 to their strength and Constitution, and your maximum for both scores increases by the same amount so you don’t have to worry about capping out. You also get unlimited rages, so just pop a new one whenever the old one’s about to run out.

Pros:

Your race, plus all those feats you took, give you a lot of options in the middle of combat, even while raging. You can heal yourself, scare people, attack... okay, it’s three things, but that’s two things more than most berserkers.

By the end of the build, you have unlimited rages, and you can’t die while raging. Tack on your healing hands at the end of a battle, and you’re effectively immortal to anyone not packing Sleep. It’s a first level spell, so a lot of people will be packing it, but by the time this combo comes together most people will be using 9th level spells, so they’ll probably overlook it.

You’re also pretty speedy, even compared to other barbarians. 50′ of movement speed and the ability to ignore difficult terrain will make it hard for your to get space between you and it. Even moreso when your opportunity attacks knock it flat on its ass.

Cons:

Before you become an immortal rage machine, you’re pretty squishy thanks to your low constitution score. I mean, squishy compared to other barbarians. You’re still rocking almost 200 HP and rage protection, but it means you’re not quite as tanky as Herc. Until you hit level 20.

We picked up a lot of Feats in this build, so that’s a good part of the reason why your ability scores are so low compared to other builds. Your fighting style only cares about strength and charisma, but if you get in a business meeting you can’t scare your way out of you’re going to have a rough time.

You have absolutely no way of dealing magical damage. You might be able to eke out some chip damage with Divine Fury and Necrotic Shroud, but if you go up against something with resistance or immunity to nonmagical weapons you’re going to have a bad time. It’s lucky you’re not super pissed at someone who literally has that as their defining feature, huh?

#fate grand order #fgo #DND #D&D 5e #berserker of el dorado #Barbarian

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scandeniall · 4 years

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cooking with the boyfriends

With Osamu, Atsumu, Suna, Iwaizumi

notes: I was forced to help cook tonight and thought about cooking with some boys and right now i find drabbles to be very fun to writeso here we are with another disaster by ri :)

Osamu: Can I start this list without putting osamu first. Now y’all may think he’s the perfect bf to cook with? WRONG. Now he’s not the worst (ie his brother or suna) but he’s not the best. Will always be the one to offer to cook and if you be like “let me help” he’ll say yes but end up taking over 90% of the time. Ask him 1 question about the dish and he’s like “ok let me show you how babe,” and you never end up completing the task yourself. If he wants to humor you into thinking you helped he’ll ask you to pass him ingredients. But one good thing is that depending on the thing he’ll be the type to kinda just press his body against yours and guide your hands for a solid 3 minutes before he’s like ok this isn’t comfortable and kinda just lightly moves you to the side to do the task himself. If you offer to cook for him one night he’ll try to not intrude he really will but will probably ask like a million questions. “Did you level the flour?” “Do you have all the ingredients out already?” Please get him OUT of the kitchen so you can do your thing like damn. Criticizes your chopping skills but at least offers to show you how to do it better (not that you ever learn). When it comes to music he either cooks in complete silence or like something smooth and sensual. Overall I’d give him 7/10 because control freak in the kitchen but he tries to be considerate and is still really sweet. Plus food always comes out 1000/10

Atsumu: LMFAO OK. Now I head canon him as not being the worst cook in the world but he isn’t the best by a long shot. Like he can make maybe 3 meals. Pretty useless when it comes to helping you though. Mostly just distracts himself and you. Ask him to prep the meat and like he’ll do it for 2 seconds before mentioning something completely off the wall and before you know it y’all are involved in some dumb ass conversation about what if you created your own food fungi and how would you do it and what if you made cotton candy kombucha with it? Also criticizes your chopping skills but unlike his twin he can NOT do better. “Babe yer supposed to dice those look like blocks” “You do it then” *pause* “I cant right now I’m busy but just know I can do better” he cant. Tries to recreate some dish osamu made for him with you and y’all end up calling the twin like 100 times because Atsumu kept forgetting the steps. Very proud when y’all do make the dish and he literally scarfs it down so fast. Unless it’s gross y’all both looking at each other like 👁👄👁 and blaming the other. Type to eat while cooking. Like as soon as you take one piece of meat off the stove he’s eating it and you gotta swat his hand away. Cooks with the music loud as hell and it’s something very upbeat which can add to y’all getting distracted. I’d give him 6/10 because while it’s lowkey a struggle he’s kinda fun and most of the time the food comes out edible

Suna: now this man is absolutely USELESS. First of all you literally have to beg him to come cook with you “why” “because it’s romantic you jackass.” And eventually he agrees. Does not know how to cook any hot meal. Burns the water because he puts it on then walks away and forgets. Acts like he can’t fucking read when you ask him to go get an ingredient. “Which one is that?” Like baby read the label. Might follow you around the kitchen for a little but does nothing helpful. Just stands to the side leaning against the counter and watches. Occasionally makes some comment like “are you doing that right?” You: points to something and asks him to reach over and get it. Suna: 🤨 lol. He doesn’t move a muscle so you’re like ok annoying and when you reach around him to get it the type to lowkey grab you by your waist to stop you from even doing what you were gonna. “Fine I’ll get it” he really couldn’t have done that from the beginning huh? If he does actually get something for you and it’s on the other side of the kitchen the type to be like: catch. Cooks to trap music lowkey although i use cook lightly. Just bobs his head and raps along occasionally feeling annoying enough to literally come and do it right in your ear. Another that eats off the food before you finish cooking and will lowkey laugh in your face when you glare. Yeah just push his ass out the kitchen not like he was doing anything useful anyways. I can also see him as the type to jokingly cheer when you’re finally like: ok get out. Overall 3/10. Utterly useless but he is appreciative and will thank you for being the best while y’all eating

Iwaizumi: the perfect man really. Takes initiative if you want him to. Also really cool with falling back and just helping. Pretty much does whatever you ask of him. Pretty decent cook. He has a few dishes in his arsenal, but has burnt food more than once. Anyways need him to go get the ingredients out? He’s on it. Ask him what the recipe calls for? Will print out the whole thing and even read it out to you if you want. Cooks in sweats and a tight tank so that’s pretty hot too. Once y'all are comfortable with each other (and obvs if y’all in the kitchen cooking together) gives the back of your shoulder kisses. Puts his hand on your lower back when looking over your shoulder to see what’s going on and it do be 🦋. Makes jokes about “please don’t poison me” He cooks with whatever’s on your playlist really. Has some favs with heavy drums but no real preference. Sometimes he finds himself just standing and watching too but will also be considerate enough to be like “you need anything?” Most likely to just check you out the entire time though. Love him. Perfect man that does what you want and he’s very hot. Arms be OUT so you staring respectfully too 🥵. Anyways meals come out pretty good so overall Iwa 10/10

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu x reader #suna rintaro x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #suna x reader #osamu imagine #atsumu imagines #suna imagines #iwaizumi imagine #hq imagines

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paper-cloud · 3 years

Text

i. the crushing weight of what happens next

part of "(there will be a) tomorrow"

fandom: prospect (2018) characters: ezra, cee rating: T words count: ~3K context: post-canon general warnings/tags: see series masterlist warnings/tags for this chapter: ezra's pov. angst. not graphic descriptions of wounds, blood and amputated limbs. mentions of minor characters' death. (probably very) inaccurate but anyways vague descriptions of medical treatments and post-anesthesia symptoms. taglist: @ravensmutty @buttercup--bee @thegreenkid (again, thank you all for your interest and encouragement! :3) @krissology @ezrasarm @bonktime (please forgive my nerve, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you'll explicitly ask me to! just thought about someone else who might be interested and you guys are AMAZINGLY talented and inspiring "prospect"/ezra writers. it's not my intention to waste precious moments of your time! 🤡

[SERIES MASTERLIST] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

He'd have thought it was almost ironic – opening his eyes to the light only to see nothing. To feel pain.

He'd have laughed about it, most likely. A bit later, he'd have acknowledged it was a reasonably fair compromise; for him and any other wretch that'd ever dared play dice with darkness and miraculously made it out alive.

And in the very end he'd come to laugh at himself, too.

He knows the drill. Someone who trades their own life with the contract of the highest bidder doesn't see the universe in black and white, let alone is in a position to draw the hypothetical line between the two of them.

Must be an even more wicked universe than he's ever cared about, then.

At least, that's where the struggle of opening his eyes made him stumble upon; when a blade of light thrust through that hint of a gap he'd pushed himself to create in the middle, resonating through the dark coils of unconsciousness like a harsh, unforgiving bell.

A skilled mariner over silky rivers of natural redundancy and rapids of professional edges, Ezra is a man who can appreciate a sharp wit when he recognizes one.

That was too much even for him.

Floundering in between a blinding whiteness and a black hole that wasn't even completely black, but permeated by a thick, suffocating haze that filled every ghost haunting his mind with its stench. With the color of diabolically lush leaves.

Forest— spores— poison— death.

It hadn't been enough to let him dangle in apnea above a roaring vortex of lifeless emerald; take him away from the grey flow whose elusiveness he'd come to appreciate more than he'd ever hated to endure its chaos— from the bubble built on the routine series of one last jobs that, in the end, never really were.

There'd been a moment when, from the higher parts of the room, his pupils tumbled down, tripping over a patch of green discreetly lurking in a corner.

He almost threw up.

It had taken him a while to clear out the misty grit clotted in his corneas— focus on white walls, light wood paneling... a harmless seedling in a pot.

He'd breathed heavily, deeply. He sure hadn't got much relief from it. Still, he'd been able to hear its sound, louder than he'd ever heard it before, the musical, cooling mesh of oxygen particles in and out of his lungs almost begging his fingers to be touched.

Oxygen.

Fresh air.

Had he been less sore – less convinced it was just the residual effects of anesthesia pulling pranks on him –, he would have burst out laughing. Even more so if some poor soul of the medical staff nearby would have called for reinforcements from the other side of the space station before storming into his room.

He'd be laughing now, too. The best he can manage is sitting on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard – which is what he's struggling to do right now— and well, sometimes the room lighting still slightly bothers him. Of course, with all the painkillers and antibiotics they've given him, he wouldn't feel like the wound on his stomach is swallowing the entire arsenal of stitches and bandages.

He just wouldn't like her to get the wrong idea.

He blinks several times, like a man who no longer trusts his eyes. How can he, when they're burning like that, in such a different fire from the one from days before – damp and flickering? For reasons he can imagine, she seems to be faltering. Totally beyond his comprehension, he could swear she's smiling at him. Something inside his ribcage creaks oddly, while the curve of his chest arches upward.

"Birdie."

It's just a huff of breath, weak and hoarse, yet scratches his throat all the same, in a way that its walls feel studded with rock spurs. Actually, Ezra doesn't remember talking since they left the Green behind – which, being him, is saying something – and it's like an eternity has passed since their pod docked up there.

The nurse who let her into his room has just left and Cee sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She's still smiling— just the faded shadow of a smile, now that he takes a better look at her.

"How's your wound?"

It sounds a lot less plain than he expected.

She hasn't moved towards him any further, and for now she's not showing any hints at wanting to. In her irises, Ezra recognizes thumping stars and cerulean clouds, all clustered in the black circle cut by the large porthole next to his bed. All before catching the thin mist veiling them. As if she did want to reach those stars, let herself get carried away by those streams of bluish dust, but she had no idea how or what to do there.

He looks down, the borders of the bandages over his abdomen slightly raised under his black short-sleeved tee. He clears his throat.

"S'healin' nicely", he says, with a deliberate lightheartedness that costs him a sharp, bizarre inflection in his voice. He closes his eyes soon after, tilting his head condescendingly. "That's how the nurse feels about it, anyway... S'not like I can feel much more right now."

This reminds him of those vacuous moments between brief, chaotic waking states and delirious dreams. When he'd managed to reconnect some essential key points scattered around in the talks of surgeons and nurses; the weariness he felt from simply gathering he was on a space station due to enter the orbit of Mesos in three cycles and something standard hours. All while his only solid reference point – the only indisputable proof he was still alive – was the sequence of beeps chirped by the medical monitor perched nearby. Constant, not monotonous. Friendly, even. Sometimes, he actually comes to miss it.

"A trust fall to the extreme, I'd guess", he snorts, a sly laugh as weak and heavy as the words trudging out of his mouth. As the whole rest of him.

Whatever answer she's considering, Cee freezes it in a quick purse of her lips – maybe a nod, but for his own good he'd rather be doubtful. Then she starts looking around.

There's a chair under the board firmly anchored to the opposite wall – probably a desk or something he's never needed to test, whatsoever. She grabs it and puts it next to his bed. She sits down, bringing her legs to her chest, squeezing them in her arms.

Waiting for what, Ezra has no idea, and he's afraid she doesn't have any, either.

He doesn't speak, though, nor does he encourage her to do the same. Her pearly gaze roams steadily but unhurriedly from him to somewhere beyond him, her nose buried in the gap between her knees. He studies her carefully, two purple crescents above her cheeks, a few hair strands swinging down her face without her wiping them out. The nights she's slept through haven't been any more peaceful than his.

Trust, he recalls in the meantime.

It sure brings an odd taste to his mouth. Something close to sweaty spacesuits, grimy paths and gone-off ration bars. A single word for two human beings forced to share the same air filter for days; that, and the image of a dead body left to rot miles behind and the desperate commitment not to end up in the same way.

His gaze just happens to trip over his right side, taking in the deflated sleeve over the emptiness that saved his life. When he lifts it back to the girl, meeting her eyes just before they can flutter away, he realizes they were both looking at the same spot. And he realizes something else— something he's already understood, yet not quite.

There is no tube binding them now.

"Why d'you do it?", he mumbles a split second later, almost like somehow the thread of his question has immediately knotted to the one of his previous thought.

He huffs. He shouldn't even have asked her, in all honesty. Seeing her like this, at least he should have put it in another way, danced around it, it's not like he’s never been good at stalling, after all—

"Comin' back", Ezra says instead, and when he swallows, he mainly does it to send his heart back down his throat. If he'd died without being given the last chance to be this straightforward on this matter, he would have probably kicked his ass all the way to the other side.

This time, Cee doesn't avoid his gaze. He shouldn't be surprised by how collected she looks, given the calmness she handled his infected arm with and then told him about when she used to slip into Jata Bhalu carcasses. But he can't help it when he thinks she can't be much older now than what she was then.

He watches her breathing in, wobbling her pupils here and there, seemingly considering his words. She's not afraid, not any more than what she seemed to be when she walked into his room. Maybe she's just better than him at playing pretend – but this, he can't tell whether it's more of a good than a bad thing. Especially for her.

One thing he can tell is that she's not the same girl who pointed a trembling gun at him before running away into the woods. He knows she's not afraid.

He knows...

So is it the hunter's instinct he has to blame if he feels she is?

"Guess I've seen too much death on that forsaken moon to just... turn my back on one I can help– one I can do something about."

If he was standing in front of an entire mountain crumbling down into the ocean, he wouldn't hear its sound. ‘Wouldn't even be the worst he deserves. She did hesitate before adding the last few words, but Ezra refuses to believe she did that because she was afraid of hurting him. He may be a wretch, but not a fool.

Kevva, for a man who's always managed to untwist himself from far tougher situations with the tangles of his tongue alone, he's sure having a deal of trouble – and he wishes he could put all the blame on his current physical condition.

There is no word he doesn't have to weigh carefully now, to prevent it from taking too sharp edges once out of his lips. He may float around it forever. But once he's let her go without saying anything, he'll hardly find the courage to look within himself again, more than after any other job that hardened his hands with calluses and tarnished his eyes with blood.

He doesn't know for sure. In fact, everything he was sure to know – about the turning direction of the universe and the one of the wheels in his head – has already collapsed in front of him, tracing a flaming tail. An unforgiving meteor following a trajectory far beyond his grasp.

He just knows silence scares him, in a way that a wrong word will never do again. It terrifies him. More than as a talkative person, as a castaway on a hostile moon for too many cycles to keep their count – with the only company of a mute. Silence is green; the green of the most poisonous pollen, lethal in his brain just like toxic spores enveloped in his lungs. The green of snake scales ready to stand and scratch his flesh until liquid crimson pours out of it.

And at the end of the day, this is the only fucking thing he can tell himself to know without having his guts churning and chest heaving a beat later.

"Stop looking at me like that."

It's more of an exhausted prayer than an annoyed remark. Ezra blinks, stunned by the sudden return from the shapeless stream of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking for the words to thank me", Cee settles back into her chair and this time she lets one leg touch the floor, "Tell me you owe me, and you– you're sorry about what you did."

Ezra sniffles. "Would it be bad?"

"No, it—". She closes her eyes for a moment, clenching her jaw. "Just no good", she breathes out, calmer.

And the discordant note in those words conjures up ghosts not yet vague enough for Ezra to be able to tolerate them without something twinging inside him— like a violent flutter of wings. Voices groping their way up ravels of compromises. Damon, deep in the forest. Himself, with the mercenaries in the Queen's Lair. Cee, days before that. After he—

She's right— those words she hasn't said yet, but whose shadow he feels looming every time he catches her wetting her lips.

Some things just can't be split evenly.

"This is not the Green", she states, suddenly more confident but no less exhausted. "If you're going to hang around just because you need to, once we reach Mesos¹ you'd better be on your way."

Ezra doesn't interrupt her. A faded echo starts making its way into his ears. A former prospecting partner, many years ago. An easy job on a forgettable Fringe moon.

Gems don't have an expiration date. Deals do. Strike 'em if you need to, get rid of them as soon as you can. Unless you care to dig a quicker way to your grave.

He didn't pay attention to it, then. He'd thought it was just the empty rhetoric prospectors drop absentmindedly to fill the time between an unrewarding digging and the next. All the more so under the rickety advice of a couple too many.

His eyes still wide open, hands shaky, he merely reciprocated the awkward bottle lift of his partner, whom he didn't know more than the meanders of that quarry. A toast to a faceless future – a nothingness still more reassuring than what was all around and behind them. Not to the darkness of the cave, basically unbreakable if only for the red halo thrown by the twinkles of sharp, sinister Prystines². Not even to the two poor bastards that had set out with them, ending up skewered a few hundred paces behind – one by mistake, the other to return the favor of saving him from the clutches of a furious Aiu³.

Like an idiot.

Several contracts later preventing him from missing a beat in front of similar hiccups, the logic of that statement no longer sounds so absurd to Ezra. Luckily for him, Cee understood it long before him.

"I was just lookin' for the words to tell ya you'll be better off without me—"

Half a truth. Half a heartbeat. After all, she isn't the only one of them who knows how to sell it.

He leans his head back against the headboard, eyes half-closed, a sly grin baring a couple of his upper teeth. It would almost be intimidating, except that the glint hitting them doesn't quite match the dying one in his eyes.

"—But you beat me to it", he finishes, and he sounds like he's about to fall asleep.

He slowly turns his head away, looks through the porthole. His gaze clutches to the passing asteroids outside, distant nebulae spraying the sidereal black with hues of purple, blue, red— then green, again. A climbing plant squeezing him from the inside, discomfort starts creeping on him an inch of his body – what's left of it – at a time.

He doesn't want her to think he's angry at her, and it's the only concrete foothold emerging from the fluid, magmatic chaos in his mind.

How could he be, when she came back to get him?

She didn't have to.

She doesn't have to be here, either...

"I'm sorry", she suddenly blurts out.

He meets her eyes again, a mix of bewilderment and disapproval shading his own. He shakes his head.

"Don't."

"I just—". She starts fiddling with the extra fabric created by the folds of her sweatpants. Then she sighs deeply. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do now."

He snorts. "Not that it's s'pposed to make you feel any better, but... neither do I."

He doesn't have a hazy helmet choking the glimmer in his eyes, an air filter breaking some frequencies in his voice— maybe just those making him sound sincere, while saving those trapping him into the swamp of self-loathing.

He was nothing but honest when he told her the rules of the game on the Green. When he openly admitted he was a killer, and when he assured her he wouldn't trade her for the Sater's Aurelac. And she's always seemed to believe him, maybe for that kind of desperate inertia that washes over people when they need something to cling to. Whatever the case, Ezra can only hope she wants to believe him now. But she doesn't speak, and for a moment his fear of not saying enough overcomes that of crossing her boundaries.

"But w—", he immediately bites his tongue, "—you still have three cycles to figure things out. Someone up here will be able to help you. Even so, please know you'll always have my most sincere gratitude."

The effort of lining up all those words and so few pauses to catch his breath casts a thick fog over his ears. His eyes suddenly hurt again and he finds himself squinting.

What happens next, he just records it, hardly managing to follow each cause-effect relationship. A series of events softly raining on him without making a noise, while he can quite imagine them to be way more prolonged in time. Cee leaning towards the lighting panel on the wall, sliding her finger counterclockwise, and the white coating the walls turning less painfully bright; her getting up, walking away, dwelling just before the door. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow", she says, sniffling.

She tilts her head, holding his gaze in her watery one for an agonizingly slow while – Please, don't ask me why.

He blinks once – Of course.

Then, the automatic door is once again engulfed by the wall, closing behind her with a metallic rustle.

Tomorrow.

His heart is taken by a spiraling jolt that leaves an empty cave behind. When it falls back into place, Ezra finds something has tripped in there, shapeless and quivering like the nucleus of a newborn star.

Hope, terror and everything that lies in between.

___________________

NOTES:

1) Mesos — Invented planet. Its only raison d'être is that "mésos" in Greek means "middle" and my intent was to frame this story in a moment of transition (after those of movies) for both Ezra and Cee. 2) Prystines — Invented kind of crystals. They're implied to be huge, red and very sharp, thus endangering the path through the cave. 3) Aiu — Invented predator, ideally a big feline.

A/N:

Yeah, uhm... at this point, if someone was ever to give me any kind of feedback, constructive criticism or random thought, I think I'd just melt into a puddle for the attention alone. And to all those who came all the way down here, your bravery shall not be forgotten. ♥️✨

In my defense, it's (almost) all P**** P*****'s fault & of his habit of taking orphans under his wing from one planet to another.

I know people in the fandom generally tend to make Ezra and Cee go along straight away after the movie, so this will be a slightly different take on things, I guess... But even if I don't know if I'll keep this series going atm (life & maturity exam suck), a final reconciliation is definitely on the way. ;)

Oh, and any beta reader that should feel like helping me out for when I'll have the next chapters ready is warmly welcomed! My DMs are always open and I swear I don't bite! :3

#prospect (2018)#prospect movie #ezra (prospect)#cee (prospect)#pedro pascal #sophie thatcher #my writing ☁️#geez what tf did i write this so long for?#it's all sadness and insecurities and introspections #hopefully i'll fit more dialogues in for the next ones...#which means kevva help me when i'll have to put my hands on that verbose space rascal's dialogues #i already know i'll ruin him but i really don't want to but he's so fucking intimidating but—#*goes hiding in her cave*

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter five: home

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 2.9K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: i've never had so much anxiety posting an update. next time i decide to fly by the seat of my pants and turn a one-shot into a full chaptered fic, just punch me in the face, okay?

all kidding aside, standard smut warnings apply to this chapter and i really hope you guys like it.

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

*****************************

“You broke into my house.”

It takes you a solid minute to find the breath to power that shaky sentence.

Your legs are already like noodles from your run and at this point they are threatening to come right out from underneath you. You reach a hand out to the wall to stop yourself from hitting the deck.

Jungkook stands slowly from where he’s seated on the couch, a careful smile on his lips.

“You gonna call the cops?”

You stare at him.

Jungkook is in the country. In Los Angeles. In your living room .

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a t-shirt and jeans and his hair is cut short again. He is alive and in one piece and looks somehow even more handsome than he did the last time you saw him. How does he do that?

You’re so distracted by Jungkook -- in your fucking house -- that you miss the look of concern that comes over him the longer you stand there without saying something. It’s like your brain is hung up -- glitching -- trying to process the scene in front of you.

“You okay?”

“You broke into my house ,” you say again, as though that should answer his question.

“That is a matter of semantics,” Jungkook argues. “I would say that I let myself in because I knew you wouldn’t want me just standing around outside. Aren’t you the one always telling me to keep a low profile?”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up your chest.

His sarcasm is comforting, even right now, when your heart is still racing and you can’t seem to stop sweating and you’ve just realized that you’re pretty fucking pissed that he dropped off the radar and didn’t contact you for weeks.

“So we should probably talk, huh?”

“You think?”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. He sinks back down onto the couch and gestures for you to join him.

You don’t.

“How the hell did you get here?” you demand.

“Same way I got out, pretty much,” he shrugs. “Mexico. Hitched a ride to San Diego and Yoongi was able to pick me up there. Good thing I’m not from Iowa or some shit, huh?”

He aims a hopeful smile at you like he’s searching for a way to connect but you don’t return it.

A flash of disappointment crosses his face.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Good thing.”

You look down to his lap. His hands haven’t stopped moving, fingers winding together and unwinding over and over. He’s nervous.

Well, good.

“I’m gonna turn myself in tomorrow,” he says after a long moment.

He knocks the wind out of you with that.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

“Yeah. Turns out, I’m being represented by some incredibly-connected, high-dollar attorney.” He looks up and fixes you with those dark, hypnotic eyes. “Any idea where I could have gotten one of those?”

Seokjin, you fucking angel.

“Maybe,” you murmur. “What did he say?”

“Well, he told me to get my happy ass back to the States. Said the Marshals would appreciate me walking in on my own as opposed to having to drag me back. Said I’m going to have to eat some crow if I expect them to listen to anything I have to say.”

He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, against the grain of the now short hairs at his nape.

“Told me to get a haircut, too.”

That makes you smile. Jin is nothing if not thorough.

“So what does -- “ you clear your throat, “ -- your attorney say about what happens after that?”

“No way to know for sure,” Jungkook admits. “They could lock me up and throw away the key or they could decide on something else. Kind of a roll of the dice at this point.”

Your chest squeezes at the thought of Jungkook walking into that Federal Building and leaving in a transport van. You shut your eyes like that will somehow stop the mental image.

“And you’re turning yourself in anyway.”

He fidgets with his ear like an anxious kid.

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” you say on a shaky exhale. “Okay. Wow.”

A tense silence falls between you.

“I need you to talk to me,” Jungkook says after a moment. “I need to know where your head is at right now.”

Do you know how hard I went to bat for you? you want to scream, which is unfair, really. He’s never asked you for your help. Everything you’ve done, you’ve done on your own. But now he’s here and in front of you and you are practically buzzing with the urge to vent your frustration at him.

“Why didn’t I hear from you?”

You hope like hell you’re the only one who can hear the thread of insecurity in your voice. “You had the burner number and I just -- never heard from you again. And now you’re in my house.”

“I know,” he admits. His fingers keep lacing together, unlacing. “I know it’s really fucked up to just ambush you like this. It’s just that shit got really hairy for me in Nicaragua. These guys stole my phone.”

“But you managed to call Yoongi,” you snap.

“Well yeah,” he fires back. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I’ve had his number for years. I got in touch with him as soon as I could get my hands on a new burner.”

You tell yourself to relax.

You tell yourself that it’s a totally plausible explanation and put a hand to your forehead as though you expect to be able to feel your temperature coming down. As though you’ll be able to feel the anger draining out of you until all that’s left is the relief that he’s here, that he’s okay.

You take a deep breath, release the tension that’s had you wound so tight.

“I left the bureau.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, “Did they -- Did I -- “

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you cut in, rolling your eyes. “It wasn’t really about you. Not all of it, anyway.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it. There is a melancholy in his eyes that unnerves you.

You’ve seen him cocky and arrogant and unrepentant and flirtatious. But this — this hat-in-hand version of him, devoid of his trademark bravado is so disconcerting.

He looks away from you, back down to his hands. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a moment to just look at him, to appreciate his striking face. You think back to the first time you saw that face, how dumbfounded you’d been by his physical appearance.

Then he opened his mouth and your fate was sealed.

One way or another this debacle ends in just a few short hours.

The rational part of you craves a conclusion to this insanity, an end to the near-constant anxiety you’ve felt for months now. But there’s the other part of you that worries this will end with Jungkook behind bars for the rest of his life. You don’t know if you’re ready to accept that just yet.

“Can you um --“ Jungkook wets his lips, “-- can you come sit with me?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly.

You cross the room and slide next to him on the couch.

He reaches for your hands, but does not meet your eyes. His fingers stroke over your wrists and not for the first time you wonder how he manages to make the most simple touches feel so good.

“You asked me one time,” he starts quietly, “about why I quit school. And I -- “

“Don’t -- ” you interrupt, “-- you don’t owe me an explanation.”

He shakes his head.

“Uh yeah,” he chuckles cynically. “Yeah, I do. I owe you pretty much any explanation you want at this point.”

You look down at where your hands are joined, down to where Jungkook is rubbing the calloused pad of one thumb against your palm.

“My mom got sick. And it didn’t feel right to stay in school when I could be working and helping to bring in some money.”

You remember the dig you made at him -- the way his face had shuttered -- and you feel an acute pang of guilt.

“I’m so s --”

“No, listen to me please,” he says adamantly. “She’s doing a lot better now and I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. But I need you to know that for every good thing I’ve ever done, I have done something equally as fucked up. And I just want -- “

He exhales heavily, scrubs one hand along his jaw.

“ -- I just want you to know that this shit with the money and the running is just some of me. I’ve done some really stupid shit but that’s not all I am.” He leans closer to you, pins you with that bottomless gaze. “I need you to understand that. Am I making any sense?”

You swear you can feel your heart squeeze in response.

“Yeah, you are,” you say softly. He reaches one hand out to cup your cheek.

“So can I kiss you now or are you still mad at me?”

You’re tempted to tease him but he looks so unsure of himself in this moment that you resist. You look down at yourself, remember you are still in sweaty running gear and cringe imagining what you must look like at this moment.

“I’m gross,” you protest in a whisper.

He leans closer, mouth hovering just over yours.

“Ask me if I care.”

******************************

Jungkook at least has the decency to let you shower before taking to you bed.

But just barely.

The second you are clean and dry he’s on you, mouth and hands everywhere at once. Your skin -- already warm from the hot water -- heats even more under his touch.

He’s different tonight you think, as you lie back on your bed and his lips work up the column of your throat. There’s a determination to the way he’s holding you, an urgency to the way he’s pressing his body against yours.

You stroke your hands down his back, feel the answering ripple of muscle underneath your fingertips. His body is leaner than it was in Puerto Rico and the realization sparks a sad throb in your chest.

Nicaragua must have been a lot tougher than he’s letting on.

But then his lips skate across your collarbone and you force yourself to push the thought from your mind. Whatever happened to him there is over. He’s here and he’s okay and he is literally on top of you and that’s the only thing you want to think about right now.

“I missed you,” he whispers and a shudder runs up your spine in response.

You rake your nails against his nape, fingers teasing his freshly cut hairline and he makes a satisfied groan against your mouth, pressing his hips firmly into yours.

It’s impossible at this point to ignore the nudge of his hard cock against your stomach. You snake a hand between your bodies to wrap warm fingers around his pulsing length and he pulls back to suck in a pained breath.

“Jungkook, I -- “ you start to speak, but an uncomfortable tickle in the back of your throat stops you. He opens his eyes to look down at you.

“You okay?”

Hell no, you’re not okay.

It feels like if you open your mouth to answer him, you’ll cry and you are not a crier and he’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something -- anything.

“Yeah, I just…um,” you stumble over your words and it takes a moment for that uncomfortable feeling to subside long enough for you to speak. You have to wait until your voice comes out even and controlled before you can finish.

“I missed you, too,” you say, finally.

His lips curve into a small smile.

“I know you did.”

He drops his mouth down to pull at one soft nipple with his lips and teeth. You sigh, arching into his touch.

The soft exhalation seems to set Jungkook off, makes the steady grind of his hips pick up in speed. He tongues at your nipples until they are aching and hard then slips a finger into your channel to test your wetness.

He brings his mouth close to your ear, breath warm against the shell.

“I can feel just how much you missed me,” he teases in a low voice.

Arrogant bastard. He’s right, though.

You huff a laugh as his fingers work in and out of you slowly, drawing out your wetness. He covers your mouth with his as his thumb rubs slow circles against your clit and you moan into his kiss.

“Fuck me,” you say quietly and you feel the tremors that run down his back at your words. “Please,” you beg, “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Jungkook kisses you again -- long and hard -- before pulling away to grab a condom from his jeans.

You take the moment to appreciate how handsome he is, chest covered in a sheen of sweat, lean body tense with the need for release. You watch the corded bands of his arms move as he crawls back onto the bed, sheathed and ready. He leans his weight on his forearms and the muscles in his shoulders become even more prominent as he lines his body up with yours.

You lift your head to suck at the hollow of his neck just as you feel the blunt tip of his cock nudge your entrance.

“Do it, Jungkook,” you moan, rolling your hips against him. “ Now.”

He groans as he obliges you, pushing slowly inside and you brace your hands around the tight muscles of his arms until you can feel him anchored deep.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Every time it’s like I forget how good you feel.”

Strange how you were just thinking the same thing -- thinking about how no one else has ever pulled these responses out of you. It’s like your body knows this man -- like it knew him way before your brain ever did.

He rocks into you slowly, deeply, pelvis flush with yours each time he strokes to the hilt. His pace is languorous and it makes your entire body feel heavy with pleasure. You wrap your legs around him tight, willing him deeper even though you know that’s not possible.

The painfully unhurried rhythm is so, so good , but it’s not enough.

Not when you can feel the threat of your release building between your legs and you need more to get you there. You angle your hips up, trying to capture more of the friction.

Jungkook takes the hint, moving one hand to cup your ass. He pulls you into each snap of his hips, forces you to take every inch on every thrust.

“Come for me,” he pants. “I can’t hold out much longer.”

You can only whine your response, too fucked out at this point to form sentences. It takes just a few more deep, desperate thrusts to make you start to unravel. Jungkook lets go the instant he feels you start to quiver around him and he doesn’t back off, lacing his fingers into yours and pinning you down into the mattress with the full force of his body.

Once the loud moaning and desperate movements slow to a stop, he drops his forehead down on yours.

The two of you breathe each other’s air for a while until your chests stop heaving and your hearts stop pounding.

***********************

“When does this all go down?” you whisper, cheek pressed to Jungkook’s chest.

You’ve spent the last five minutes enjoying a warm, comfortable silence.

But that hasn’t stopped your mind from wandering back into worry.

Jungkook presses the length of your body into his side with one firm hand. You feel him tense when you ask the question.

“10 AM.”

“10 AM,” you echo numbly.

“Yeah,” he whispers, stroking lazy patterns with his fingers down your back.

“So,” he clears his throat. “Are you...ready to talk about what’s going on here?”

You’re glad that from this angle he can’t see your reaction, can’t see the flush that spreads over your face.

“No,” you mumble childishly.

“You’re such a brat,” he teases, dropping a kiss on your hair. “So fine. I’ll do the talking then. I met someone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s got her head on straight, and…” he trails off for a moment. “...she’s got me thinking about how I can get my head on straight, too.”

You smile into his skin.

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s a lot of different things at once. Kinda feisty, super smart, very cool,” he murmurs. “Unemployed, but hey — no one’s perfect.”

Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Is she hot?”

“Nah,” he teases, and he jumps when you pinch his stomach. “Way better than hot. She’s beautiful. And she’s into me. Really, really into me.”

Your cheeks heat but you keep the tone light.

“How do you know she’s not just using you for sex?”

“Well in the beginning she was,” he chuckles. “But then she showed up for me in a big way. A really big way. So even though it’s really hard for her to come out and say how much she likes me, I already know. She’s already shown me.”

That uncomfortable itch in your throat returns when he says that. It’s so weird to be understood so thoroughly by someone you barely know.

“She sounds pretty amazing,” you say after the sensation subsides long enough for you to speak.

“Yeah, she is,” he whispers. “So I’m gonna go to this meeting tomorrow morning and try to fix the mess I’ve made. Cause maybe now I have a reason to stop being such a reckless asshole.”

You screw your eyes shut and will the unexpected tears that spring to your eyes not to fall.

“10 AM, right?”

He drops another kiss into your hair and pulls your body in closer.

“Yeah. 10 AM.”

**********************

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

ao3

Alex knew he picked a good choice of best friend when Kyle's response to Alex being dumped was to haul him into the car and start the 11 hour drive to Las Vegas.

The whole drive was spent full of Kyle distracting him and hyping him up, stopping by a daiquiri shop on the way there and getting him the largest size. It was a little weird, but Alex found that he was endlessly grateful. He needed this.

"You were too hot for him anyway," Kyle said a few hours in, "You deserve someone who could at least be a model, but not more of a model than you, you feel me?"

"Yeah,* Alex laughed, smiling at him as he sipped his drink, "I feel you."

"But it's all good. We're going to find you a hot piece of ass to rail," Kyle declared, "Or get railed by, I don't judge."

"Jesus Christ, Kyle," Alex laughed, but he just flashed that charming smile and went on with driving.

When they arrived in Vegas, the city was already lit up for the night and Kyle got a hotel room that they didn't stay in for long. He immediately led the way to a casino and paid Alex's way. Whenever Alex tried to refuse the handouts, Kyle insisted and said it was his idea so he would pay.

They spent the next few hours getting drunk and winning little sums of money. $20 here, $5 there, nothing fancy. But Alex was having more fun with Kyle than he had in his entire relationship, so it was easy to get lost in it.

"Alex," Kyle called, catching him by the belt loop and tugging him closer, "Blow on these for good luck."

Alex felt his face flush and a few sets of eyes were on them, but he blew on the set of dice Kyle shoved in his face nonetheless. He watched him throw them onto the table afterwards and a few separate things happened that he didn't quite understand having never been the gambling type. People cheered, though, and Kyle kissed the side of his face without hesitation.

"Told you!" Kyle exclaimed, "Good luck charm. What's his face didn't even know what he had."

Alex felt his face get even hotter and soaked up the praise without question.

Kyle kept him close as they eventually left the casino when they had a solid amount of winnings, taking their tipsy asses to a drag bar a few blocks away. They were let in surprisingly easy for not being dressed up in the slightest. They drank more, talking closer over the loud music and getting absolutely lost in each other's company. Alex felt like the luckiest man in the entire universe.

A few times, Kyle tried to introduce him to men he thought he might be interested in, but Alex always found Kyle significantly more interesting. He didn't mind going to bed alone if it meant just having Kyle. He eventually got that and stopped sending other guys his way, instead accepting drinks from interested parties and sharing them with each other.

"Men suck. All of them. Except maybe you," Alex said confidently, drunk enough to speak his mind but not enough to mess with his balance (for the most part) as they walked down the lively street. Kyle seemed to be on the same level because he smiled, squeezing Alex's hip since he had a grip on him so he wouldn't lose him as they headed towards the hotel. "God, I wish you were gay."

Kyle laughed loudly, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Alex exclaimed, "You're, like, the only man I've met who understood what, like, growth is."

"What can I say? Therapy is a recommendation in my hospital," Kyle said. Alex snorted. "But glad I could be a good example."

"Yeah," Alex sighed, "You're my favorite person."

"Good," Kyle said, kissing the side of his head for what felt like the billionth time that night, "'Cause you're mine."

They were a block away from the hotel when they came across a 24-hour chapel. Kyle slowed as they neared it and came to a complete stop as he stared at it.

"You wanna get married?" Kyle asked. Alex blinked twice and looked at him.

"Seriously?" Alex said. His mind instantly started trying to be rational. Was he drunk? Was Kyle? What exactly did him asking that mean? Was it a joke? Would it be platonic? Would it be crazy to say yes even if it was?

"Yeah, why not?" Kyle said, looking at him with a fairly reckless smile. It reminded him of young Kyle who had talked him into sneaking into an abandoned house or had spontaneously learned how to do a backflip because he wanted to. He'd gotten a little more responsible since then, but it was nice to see. "Alex Manes deserves to give a nice fuck you to society and I'd love to do the honors of being that fuck you."

And, before Alex could even convince himself to ask questions, he nodded.

"Okay, sure."

Both drunk of hours of alcohol and each other, they found themselves standing in front of a tacky alter with a bouquet of faux flowers in Alex’s hand. They only partially listened to the guy who got his ordination credentials online, instead making teasing faces at each other. Alex felt like he was going to burst out of his skin, feeling a little confused and a little overwhelmed and a lot eager to understand what this meant. Would they frame their marriage license to put his dad’s grave and drink champagne in front of him? Would they use this for shared financial benefits? The healthcare between an Air Force officer and a doctor would be pretty sweet.

Except when the officiant said that they could kiss, Alex didn’t actually expect to Kyle to go for it. Or maybe he did because Kyle seemed to go in for a cheek kiss and Alex turned his head to meet his lips and Kyle just pulled him closer. And then Alex didn’t actually remember the kiss ending.

It was like he blinked and they were back at the hotel, pressed into the corner of the elevator as they shared the alcohol still on their tongues. Then they were in the hotel room, two queen sized beds with a single nightstand between them and Kyle led them towards the one closest to the door to share.

It only stopped when Alex had to take his prosthetic off and, even then, Kyle pressed kisses across his shoulders and up his neck and certifiably destroying Alex’s ability to overthink anything. All he could think about was Kyle and how he wanted to touch him and how they had fucking signed a marriage certificate.

After the prosthetic was off, Kyle grabbed his jaw and sealed them in another kiss, pulling him to lay back on the bed. He seemed like he knew what he was doing and that was equally as confusing as the rest of the things that were happening that night, so he stopped questioning it. He welcomed Kyle’s skin and his touch and his kisses and he only had to help him out with an angle here and there.

It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning plastered into Kyle’s side, naked and warm and finally more sober, that he realized he didn’t understand. More than just that, he was outright confused about everything that had happened. Kyle, his straight friend, had just casually married him and slept with him after he got dumped. Did he do it because he felt bad for him? Did he do it because he was drunk? Did he even remember it?

Alex sat up and looked at him. He was sound asleep still, eyes closed and chest rising and falling with each breath. Tiny bruises that Alex had accidentally put on him were partially hidden under his facial hair. He was gorgeous. And so, so, so not into him like that.

Alex quickly got his prosthetic on and pulled on his clothes before he went into the bathroom, avoiding his reflection as he splashed water on his face. He didn’t want to look at himself, didn’t want to face the fact that he felt like absolutely garbage for what he’d done. The whole “marriage” was blurry, but Alex probably guilted him into it somehow. He didn’t remember, though, and that made it worse.

But, honestly, whatever happened was bad. Kyle was his best friend, the main person he could rely on, his safe space. And he fucked it all up by letting it go too far. He was going to lose his best friend because he couldn’t be responsible.

“Alex?” Kyle’s voice called. Alex’s whole body ached in response, a flood of guilt and shame and desire all hitting him at once.

Kyle was his friend and he ruined it and, yet, he wanted to ruin it more. With him, he had fun and felt wanted and safe. No matter how stupid they were being, Alex never felt like the rug was being pulled out from beneath him. He was just safe. He wanted more of that.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Kyle asked, knocking gently. Alex squeezed his eyes closed. “You hungover? I can go get you something to drink. You like red Gatorade, right?”

Alex huffed a laugh and caved, swinging the door of the bathroom open. Kyle stood on the other side in all his naked glory and, honestly, it was a goddamn trap. It had to be. No one just looked like that casually.

“What happened last night?” Alex asked. Kyle stared at him, blinking a few times in confusion before his eyes widened slightly.

“You were that drunk?” he asked. Alex shook his head.

“No, I remember, I just... don’t,” Alex said, scraping his hands over his face, “I don’t get it. I don’t understand. Why did any of that happen? Did I make you feel like you had to or something?”

“You think I would marry you because I felt like I had to?” Kyle asked, a disbelieving tone in his voice. Alex didn't answer. "Look, it was a stupid ceremony and, and I don't think the license is even notarized officially or filed or whatever, so we can just rip it up and pretend it didn't happen if you want."

"Okay, so we pretend that didn't happen," Alex said loosely, his voice tightening as he got a little more upset and be gestured to the bed they'd shared, "How do we pretend that didn't happen?"

Kyle looked away from him for a second, falling so quiet they could hear the footsteps from the people in the room above them. Alex didn't know what to do.

"You want to forget that happened?" Kyle asked cautiously.

Alex huffed a laugh, “You don’t?”

Kyle was quiet for a long time, so long that Alex was beginning to feel sick. He felt like he drastically misunderstood something or maybe Kyle just was incredible at confusing him. Alex liked kissing him and, sure, the thought had crossed his mind more than once that Kyle would be the perfect boyfriend. Kyle was nice and thoughtful and cared about him. But he never in a million years thought Kyle might’ve thought about it too.

“Yeah, if you want to, sure. We forget it happened,” Kyle said, walking back towards the heart of the room to search for his clothes. Alex’s eyebrows were pulled together as he cautiously followed.

“Kyle, what the fuck is going on?” he asked. Kyle seemed to put an ample amount of attention into buttoning his jeans. “Don’t you want to forget it? I mean, I’d figure you’d want to forget sleeping with a guy.”

Kyle dropped his shirt and turned to face him.

“You must think real highly of yourself if you think I just decided to be bisexual because I wanted to make you feel better,” Kyle stated blatantly, “And you must think really highly of me if you think I was that good on my first try.”

“Wait,” Alex said, holding a hand up as he tried to process his words, “Wait, you...”

“I’m bi? Yes. And was it stupid to hook up with you knowing you just got out of a relationship? Also yes, but I’m not known to make good decisions when it comes to my romantic or sexual relationships, so,” Kyle said, throwing his arms out and letting them fall to his side pathetically.

Alex thought back through the last few months, trying to think back to any of the signs of Kyle realizing that about himself. He couldn’t remember when Kyle ever started acting differently. He was always just Kyle.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alex asked. Kyle took a long, deep breath.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “Probably because I knew if I did, I’d have a lot less things keeping me from trying to marry you on a whim in the middle of Las Vegas.”

“Okay,” Alex said, slowly sitting down on the bed. A few seconds passed before Kyle sat beside him, sighing. Alex eventually looked at him after he processed his words. “You didn’t have to tell me if you weren’t ready. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I’m in love with you, Alex,” Kyle said, so openly that Alex’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, “I have been for a long time and I’m tired of hiding it. Especially after last night. And if you’re not into me like that, okay, fine, I can take it. I-I need a little space, but we’re friends first and I can learn to stop loving you like that. But I need you to tell me because if you don’t, I’m going to sit and wait for the rest of my life.”

“You know, I didn’t expect this whenever you suggested we drive to Vegas,” Alex said, mind swimming with a million thoughts at Kyle’s confession. Kyle huffed a small laugh, but he didn’t try to add anything.

They sat there for a long time, Kyle letting him think over what he said. It was strange to think that, while Alex was dating idiots who didn’t treat him right, Kyle was just there and waiting for him to notice. It made a mess of the last year, a slew of overthinking every interaction. Was Kyle being nice because he was Kyle, or because he wanted to sleep with him? Or was it just because he loved him? Genuinely, truly loved him and didn’t make him feel like that was a bad thing? Was that a thing someone could do?

“Do you really love me?” Alex clarified after awhile. Kyle gently nudged his knee into Alex’s.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have said that if I hadn’t thought about it every day for months,” he promised, “I love you and I want what’s best for you, whatever that means. So if you want me to fuck off, I will. If you want me to stay, then I will. Ball’s in your court.”

Alex took a deep breath and looked at him seriously. His handsome features, his honest eyes, the little hickies hidden in his facial hair. Alex wouldn’t mind looking at him forever, especially when that wasn’t all he had to offer.

“Can we do something in the middle?” Alex asked. Kyle waited. “Can we spend this weekend in Vegas being stupid and reckless, but when we got back to Roswell, give me some time to actually get over my last relationship. And then we start from square one? I don’t want you to be a rebound.”

“You don’t want me to be a rebound, but you wanna sleep with me again first?” Kyle clarified. Alex blinked innocently and gave a short nod in response. Kyle just laughed, moving forward back into his space and kissing him again.

Alex wasn’t sure if it was the sobriety, the love confession, or just the lack of confusion in general, but this kiss seemed to transcend all the previous ones. He leaned into it more, letting Kyle just love him openly and honestly.

And he liked that feeling.

#kylex #kylex fic #kyle valenti #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #this is based on a tiktok i saw like a month ago

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