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angryschnauzer · 3 years ago

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Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom.

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised.

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind.

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker smut #henry cavill

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kittydemon9000 · 3 years ago

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The Beginning of Heatstroke, aka Red's Villain Origin

* crashes down from the ceiling * I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED ONE OF MY 5+ CURRENT WRITING PROJECTS! BEHOLD, A WRITTEN VERSION OF THE 'Red's Villain Origin AU', also known as RVO / Heatstroke AU

To summarize the AU for SPBNR for those that don't now it:

“Who'd be the biggest conspiracy theorist out of the M!Ninja? The one who drinks 5 hour energy at 3am and spits off the craziest theories and then actually gets it right but nobody gives the theory any merit because the rest of the theories are too crazy?”

The answer: Red / M!Kai

Red: Okay hear me out: Smith is actually an alternative version of one of us sent here from another dimension.

The other M!Ninja: You’re just saying that because Smith’s cool and you want him to be your counterpart

Based on the M!ninja making red cork boards trying to figure out ‘What Is Up With Smith’: Red gets increasingly accurate and nobody will believe him (all pre shogun reveal) and he eventually snaps and takes up a secret villain persona to fight Shogun like 'if they won't believe me I'll do it myself' and it gets awkward when he accidentally does too much damage and catches not only Shogun's attention like planned, but also the rest of the Ninjaforce, and now he has to keep his own identity a secret

So, without further ado, I present... Heatstroke

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Red blamed the 5-hour energy coffee blend at 3:00am for this.

It was no surprise that between ‘Operation: What’s Going on with Smith’ & the sudden appearance of Shogun that the resident Bounty red-stringed ‘joke’ cork-board doubled in size and seriousness. It also was no surprise that Red had a corner all to himself and that his theories were… in the words of the others, ‘wildly inaccurate and implausible’.

But this time, he was sure he’d gotten it right.

Smith is Shogun sent here from another continent/planet/dimension with the goal of protecting Ninjago City.

The latest string of laughs and scoffs at his theory was the last straw. He’d show them. He’d prove it!

Which was why he was currently standing on the roof of a noodle house, awkwardly adjusting the spare motorcycle helmet he’d ‘borrowed’ from Nya and painted black and orangey-yellow (red had seemed too obvious). He’d exchanged his Ninjaforce outfit for a soot-burned cross between a bomber jacket and a leather jacket. Down his back jutted a row of flames like the spines of a monster, courtesy of one of Nya & Jay’s unfinished inventions Red had modified- surely nothing bad would come of that!

For tonight, the Red Ninja was off-duty. For tonight, it was Heatstroke’s turn.

He fiddled with one of the weapons he’d ‘lent out’ from Master Wu. It resembled a small arm canon, like a smaller version of the Ultimate Weapon. The plaque under its post had read ‘Elemental Focuser’, which, in cryptic Wu speak, probably translated to ‘you can use an elemental power like something out of Avatar: The Last Airbender’. So far he’d only figured out how to activate a focused jet of fire. Well, at least it was on brand. He hoped it would help him catch Shogun’s attention so he could unmask him.

He’d tried confronting Smith at school, of course. But there were only so many ways of saying ‘are you the new vigilante helping the ninjas’, and Smith has a genuine talent for dancing around the topic. Red could confront him with the name Shogun to get a proper reaction, but that would mean explaining how he knew the name and outing himself as the Red Ninja.

So fake villainy really was the only way.

His plan was to use the Elemental Focuser to cause some minor petty damage, just enough to attract the new vigilante. Perhaps set a trash can on fire, block an alleyway with rocks (if he figured out how to change the setting from fire to earth), small things that could easily be repaired.

Of course, plans were never actually stuck to. One way or another, something was always improvised.

Red’s improvisation just happened to involve him accidentally setting the entire alleyway on fire.

He’d only been aiming for one dumpster, honest! And maybe he’d spotted a couple fliers for a SoG meeting on the ground and happened to burn those too. And a newspaper article blaming Lloyd for the recent Garmadon attack, again. And an article about those ‘Damn Ninja Menaces’ by a S. Sonah Sameson. And-

Okay, so maybe Red had aimed the fire at a few small targets. But just a few! And with good reason and good care, but…

Well, fire liked to burn. Give it enough kindle and it’ll continue to grow, stretching like reaching branches towards each other to join in a massive bonfire.

So now the entire alleyway was on fire, and Red was panicking.

He’d luckily chosen an abandoned part of town near the beaches where Shogun sightings seemed most frequent, but with the stupid Elemental Focuser not switching from fire mode to water mode or ice mode or something that didn’t have the potential to burn Ninjago City to the ground, Red had no way of stopping the flames.

And more flames meant more destruction which meant a bigger audience.

Which was why his previously muted comm suddenly flared to life, the only warning Red had before Nya’s water strider mech slid around the corner.

Red scrambled onto a roof as the mech drove past, spraying water at the bonfire to dose it. His sigh of relief was just as quickly dosed as Lloyd’s voice came over the comms; “Status, Grey?”

“Flames are out,” Nya replied. “Pursing the joker that set it ablaze.”

Uh oh. Red took off across the roof, leaping from building to building. Tiles creaked, pebbled and dust scattering underfoot. The sounds of the mech’s engine roaring behind him echoed through alleyways below to create the illusion the mech was everywhere at once.

As the chase grew on, more mechs started to join in. Red ducked into a narrow avenue to avoid Zane’s tank, then under a cafe overhang to throw off Jay and Lloyd. His heart hammered in his chest and he groaned, filling the inside of the motorcycle helmet with steam. Saying this was going ‘bad’ would be the understatement of the century.

What had he been thinking? Oh wait: he hadn’t. Seriously? ‘Oh I’ll just pretend to be a villain real quick, that should get Shogun’s attention and not the attention of literally my entire team of fellow ninjas!’ Stupid, impulsive, this was why everyone was always calling the red ninja the ‘hothead’ when he really tried not to be- Lloyd’s voice over the comms snapped him from his thoughts. “I can’t catch them! It’s like they know our every move!”

Red winced as he climbed up a banister and leapt from balcony to balcony. Sorry, Lloyd.

He didn’t miss how the others asked Nya where Red was. And how she made up excuses the others bought so easily- granted, he’d told those excuses to his sister before setting his plan into motion, but still, ouch. They acted like he was simply being at best too busy and at worst lazy and selfish.

He just wanted them to know the truth! Why couldn’t they at least try to believe him when-

Of course, that was when Shogun dropped out of the sky and tackled him.

Red shouted with surprise as he tumbled down from the second floor, slamming into a few softer bags of garbage to break his fall before rolling and slamming into the unforgiving concrete. A crack formed in his vision as the visor of his motorbike helmet smacked into the concrete ground. One of the fire jets on his back sputtered and sparked, sending a thin wisp of smoke into the air.

Shogun pinned his wrists to the ground and growled. “Who are you?”

Red tried to break free, agony turning his muscles and bones to fire with the movement after his fall, but the vigilante was too strong. Damn, how often did this guy train?

“Who am I?” Red said, a nervous tinge to his voice. He quickly smoothed it over with faked confidence. “Who are you? Who are all of us, really?”

Shogun narrowed his eyes behind his hood. “Did Garmadon send you? Or someone else?”

Red sputtered. Really, the nerve! Garmadon? The thought turned his insides to disgusting mud. “Nobody sent me!”

“Then why are you here?” Shogun spat.

“Why am I here?” Why was he here again? Oh right, the bright idea on how to reveal that Shogun was Smith. “It’s, uh… a valid reason! That I don’t have to tell you!” He tried for a villainous laugh. Stay in character, don’t blow your cover, you got this!

Shogun was unimpressed. “Nearly burning down my home was a valid reason?”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to set everything on- wait, WHAT?” Uh oh. “You LIVE here?”

Now it was Shogun’s turn to look uncomfortable, though the expression was quickly wiped from his face. “Nothing wrong with this district.”

Red nodded. “‘Course not. Uh, sorry about that… wasn’t my intention, I swear.”

Shoot, he could hear Jay’s jet getting closer. He had to get out of here, but Shogun, annoyingly, didn’t seem to be in the mood to simply let him go. “Then what is your intention?”

“Well, for starters, it’s getting out of here. This really isn’t going to plan and I’d rather just be home right now, or even inventing a time machine like in that book ‘Hands of Time’ to slap my past self in the face for even thinking about this stupid idea in the first place-“

Jay wasn’t the only one that could ramble under pressure, it seemed.

Shogun leaned closer. “What idea?”

Red shrugged as best he could with how he was pinned to the ground. “Well, for starters, I just wanted to prove to my friends that you’re Smith, and things just kinda escalated from-”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said.

Shogun lurched back, letting go of him. His eyes betrayed a kaleidoscope of emotions; surprise, worry, suspicious, hurt, fear, realization.

“…Kai?”

Well, f!ck.

“I-“

Red was about to badly attempt to bullsh!t his way out of his identity reveal before it suddenly dawned on him that Shogun had not denied his theory.

Which meant Shogun was Smith.

And it also meant Smith instantly recognized him as Kai, which, considering his disguise, was aptly concerning. Sure, he was the first one in his group of friends people would think to do something this extreme but give him some credit! Zane was a regular detective, he’d do the same if it meant answers! Or, well, at least something similar. And Nya could be an adrenaline seeker. And Lloyd- well, maybe not Lloyd. Or Jay, either. Cole had his head just enough on his shoulders that he probably wouldn’t do this either.

But come on, instantly guessing it?

Well, at least Smith/Shogun didn’t know Kai was the Red Ninja. That would be a catastrophe.

Right. Back to the current catastrophe at hand.

Shogun- Smith- still had a look as if he’d been slapped, and Red hated it. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend. Shogun… Shogun hadn’t wanted them to find out his identity. And then Red had gone and done it, just to prove that he could be the smart one, or a leader, or the protector so they didn’t get hurt, or literally anything but just the ‘hotheaded one’.

…And he’d done it in the most hotheaded, impulsive way possible.

He really was an idiot.

The cracked helmet hid the look on his face, a twisted mess of distraught and shame. But it didn’t help hide how he took stumbled to his feet and away from Smith, nervous that any second he’d spill another mistake and mess up again, like how he always freaking messed up on everything. Don’t pick this fight, interject there instead, no, not there, idiot, there, FMS why are you so useless-

Focus, focus.

Lloyd’s voice, sharp in the intercom and full of static from his tumble, snapped him from his thoughts. “Anyone got eyes on the arsonist?”

Red caught Smith’s eye as he raised his hand to his own communicator. He was so screwed, so busted, so doomed… Smith would report it, and the others would know, and they’d think he was just messing around in an alleyway with some stolen devices and weapons out of curiosity or rage, - and-

“None yet, still looking.”

…What?

Smith stared at him, gaze searching. He looked shaken, more so than Red- who’d just taken a fall from a second story, mind you, it was a miracle he wasn’t more injured than a couple small scrapes and some future bruises-, yet everything from the set of his jaw to the softening of his furrowed brows suggested a change in emotions. Well, not quite change; more like repress and replace.

“You wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you.”

Red flushed, hand instinctually clamping into a tight fist at his side. The still-working fire jets on his back ignited without him pressing any buttons; faulty activation from the fall or something.

Palms up and hands raised, Smith silently asked to defuse the situation. “Didn’t mean it as an insult. This wasn’t about venting some anger, was it.”

Red’s lack of response only confirmed it. Smith continued. “I won’t say anything about this if you don’t tell anyone my identity. Deal? I know finding it out was important to you, but-“

“Deal,” Red interrupted. Guilt ate away at his core, like a wave of water dousing a candle. “Smith, I-“ He swallowed hard and stared at the alley floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… to…”

Smith’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder and he flinched before relaxing as Smith didn’t move further, nor did the grip tighten. “I’m a little hurt, you’re right. But I’m not mad. And I won’t tell the others, so you can relax. But you better get out of here and get yourself an alibi. We can talk at school or something.”

Wow, he was handling this rather calmly. Red was struck by the sudden memory of- what did Jay call the word? Right. Compartmentalizing. That… wasn’t healthy. But at the roar of Lloyd’s mech somewhere nearby, he didn’t comment further. Instead, he shot Smith a grateful nod and ran down the alley, sticking to the shadows and blind spots of the flying mechs and the tight alleyways where the land mechs couldn’t reach him.

When he got home, miraculously without further incident (though Shogun leading the others on a wild goose chase over the comms certainly helped there), he ditched the outfit in a bag hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the shed. He’d return the weapon to Master Wu’s ship later, and… well, hope Nya never searched for the missing supplies. There wasn’t a way of fixing it without involving her or Jay, and neither was an option.

Heatstroke was back off duty, and so was the Red Ninja.

For now, he could just be Kai Smith. And there wasn’t any issue with that.

…

Right?

—————

yooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THIS IS AMAZING REHJJGFHDESFXJVZ

and ah yes, good ol trauma and compartmentalizing, we love to see it

#We love ourselves some good ol aus #same people but not really #Spbnr #spbnr aus

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bostonbashers · 4 years ago

Note

Hear me out.. How do mercs behave around a person they have a huge crush on?! :D

AAAAAA this one is so cute, i’m in love!! 🤩❤️

Scout:

literally a fucking DORK around you. tries to impress you constantly with anything and everything he has, ranging from his skill set to his appearance to his personal belongings and much more.

always finds excuses to spend time with you and it can be the most asanine ones in existence. oh? you have free time tomorrow? let’s go take a run down the street. you miss your puppy that got lost when you were a kid? let’s go to the ends of the earth to find it.

made you borrow his jacket/shirt once because he accidentally spilled a drink all over your shirt. once he saw you in it, he nearly died and didn’t want it back. takes it back anyway due to his pride and though he seems outwardly okay with it, he secretly doesn’t wash the clothing for a long while.

his flirtatious behavior around other people goes down immensely. scout becomes strictly loyal to you once his crush grows stronger and can’t bear the thought of talking with someone else, even if you don’t like him back. it just doesn’t sit with him right.

Soldier:

soldier is much softer and kinder around you. he restrains himself from using any harsh words that could hurt your feelings and tries to slow down on your training.

shows you his pets!! one of his prized possessions that he won’t allow anyone else to touch, like ever. he trusts you to love and take care of them the same way he does.

everyone has to respect you. if they even give you a slight problem, he’ll get on their case about it and probably give them hell before they could even mutter out an apology. you deserve respect and he’s gonna make sure you get nothing less.

lots of supportive comments from him! even if it’s something small, he’ll grin at you proudly and yell out a, “good job, cupcake! you did great!” while giving you a strong pat in the back or an approving nod.

Pyro:

pyro is usually sweet and kind with a certain crowd and tries to do the best they can for others, but with their crush? it’s a whole different story. they’re absolutely head over heels for them.

like a lovesick puppy; they will follow you wherever they go with a skip in their step. like, i mean they’ll follow you everywhere. “no, pyro you can’t follow me to the bathroom-!” they don’t really listen but patiently wait outside anyway.

one of the many mercs who won’t hesitate to show affection and sees nothing wrong in it. runs up to them and holds their hand firmly with a happy hum, hugs them more than usual, and just straight up gives you all their attention.

Demoman:

oh boy, if tavish has a crush on you, he’ll show it when he’s absolutely wasted. demo will literally smother you with affection regardless of where you both are and literally latch onto you every second he gets a chance to.

lots of drunk ramblings; he’ll lay his head on your shoulder or lap while he mindlessly slurs about how amazing you are, what his favorite thing is about you, and so much more.

it’s pretty obvious at that point demo likes you so you admit your liking to him pretty quick and it’s funny how shocked he gets. “ya knew i liked ya?!” yes, demo, they did.

when he’s sober, he’s much more shy with it and controls his actions a lot more. apologizes for his behavior while drunk. tavish exhibits more gentleman behavior, from opening doors to making you a decent dinner and just basically ensuring your comfortability.

Heavy:

heavy is very mature and will accept his feelings pretty quick compared to the others. it’s a 50/50 chance with him; if they feel the same, that’s great! if they don’t, then.. he’d have no choice but to move on. that’s how life works.

once he does accept it, be expecting a lot of mother hen behavior; he literally watches your every move to make sure you’re safe and healthy. even if you are, he goes out of his way to give you things whenever he knows you’re around; a homemade meal, a blanket, probably some candy. your smile is already more than enough to make up for the little things he does for you.

no one will ever dare to hurt you around heavy (or just in general, really). he senses danger and issues pretty quickly, so it’s easy for him to detect any bad intentions. he’s like that scary bodyguard who looms behind you, glaring at anyone who radiates rancid vibes to scare them away.

Medic:

probably takes a while to accept or realize it cause he’s always so preoccupied in his lab, being busy and all. but once he does realize it, it’s sort of foreign to him at first, so of course, he goes to heavy to speak about his emotions. after being told it was a crush, he pays attention to you a lot more than usual, sometimes even without him noticing.

he gets all giddy when you’re around and although it’s not the jumpy, squealing giddy, it’s certainly one shown through happy greetings and continuous conversations that seem to be never ending. (you don’t mind though)

makes up random appointments and checkups for the smallest things just to see you and gets very, very excited whenever you decide to come to visit him without his knowledge. nearly drops everything just to attend to you.

he talks to archimedes so much about you that his precious pet basically knows who you are based off his owners reactions and automatically flies to you whenever you enter his lab. that bird is a lot smarter than you think. they get along with you pretty well and medic melts whenever he sees you talk to his birds like he does and play with them.

Sniper:

bless his heart, the poor man will literally faint around his crush. just the sight of them flusters him to his core, and don’t even get me started on their little habits and that godforsaken smile. [hes literally almost died when they grinned at him]

he’s already so reserved and quiet as he is, but around them, it’s even worse. he’s always so scared he’s gonna scare them away or say something stupid, but he eventually lets go of the fear and tries to muster up the courage to talk to you.

once he does, he spends a lot of his time with you, often inviting you out to drive around with him or just simply sit outside and enjoy the breeze. he talks a lot more than usual and though he doesn’t completely open up about his past just yet, he does indirectly hint that he trusts you more than anyone in his life.

lots of sleepless nights when he realizes he’s in love. he does everything to take you off his mind but all fails in the end and he’s kept wide awake thinking about what you two could be. from then on, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep his cool around you and silently begs you’ll confess one day or he’ll lose it.

Engineer:

sweetheart mode: activated. like it’s not a big switch up, since he’s naturally a gentleman but it’s noticeable enough. you’ll notice that your nicknames will start slowly forming to more romantic ones and how he blushes with a smile everytime it leaves his lips.

the other mercs can tell when dell has a crush; he blushes a lot more than usual and they catch him smiling more than once by himself. they realize it when you approach him and he automatically fixes himself to look presentable without a second breath. his voice also changes to a much happier and giddy tone, it’s so cute!

stares at you from a distance a lot or whenever you’re distracted with something. half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing so but once he catches himself, he blushes and looks away, silently telling himself to quit it. often you’ll catch him staring at you, but you ignore it for his sake and laugh to yourself when he smiles back and waves shyly.

Spy:

takes a long while before he actually accepts the crush, seeing that he’s a very secretive and reserved person but once he does, you best believe you’ll be spoiled and loved by this man. lots of gentleman behavior!! opening doors, buying you gifts, giving you his coat, and all that fancy stuff.

teases you a lot more than he should; he enjoys your reactions. he’ll lean in close enough where your fingers brush slightly, tilt your chin up when he talks to you and makes intense eye contact while doing so. whenever he gets too close or the moment gets too tense, he backs away with a smirk and pretends as if nothing happens.

he listens to you and anything you have on your mind. his door is literally open for you 24/7 and even if you come knocking at 3 am, he’ll let you in and listen to what you have to say. you think he’s not listening cause he’s very unresponsive but when you’re finished and about to leave, he gives really good advice and tells you quietly that he’s there for you in an indirect way. depending how close he is to you, he’ll let out an experience or two about him to put you at comfort and as thanks for confiding in him. he then walks you back to your room with a simple nod and goodnight.

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satingrove · 4 years ago

Text

tracing the route

pairing: javier peña x gn reader (no y/n)

word count: 3.3k

summary: he visits your desk in the evenings and misses you when you leave. he wants more time.

warnings/content: mentions of smoking, language, mild physical descriptions of anxiety, p i n i n g, kissing

a/n: thank you to my darling cris for your help and for letting me chat you up about this, as well as a thank you to jojo for the lovely gif :)

gif credit: @nobie!

“Hey,” Javier’s wide palms press themselves into the edge of your desk, his weight leaning forward into your space of disorganized papers. With the movement, a brief wafting of his scent fills your nose — he’s fresh, not dirtied or sweaty from the chase — it’s been a slow day, coffee mugs with drips long dried on their outer edges, exasperated sighs at the pace of which things are finished, getting nowhere. The open collar of his shirt hangs loose beside you, the tan skin of his torso hiding underneath the rest of the lavender fabric, “You look tired.”

You exhale through your nose, your foot catching on the leg of your desk as you swivel to face him properly, raising your brow.

He clears his throat, “You know what I mean.”

“Mhm,” you sigh, resting your cheek in your palm, “hi, Javi.”

It’s late. It doesn’t necessitate a glance at the clock; he always comes once the majority of the others have gone home. He has that soft glint in his eye, like he means to tell you something important — something that never makes it past the barrier of his lips when they’re pressed together in a lopsided grin.

Like he’s grinning now.

“How are those papers coming along?” He nods toward them with his head, leaning even closer to your shoulder, his voice quieter when he continues speaking, “you're allowed to leave at a decent time.”

You hum your acknowledgement, catching your thumb on the edge of a stack and letting the papers slip past it. It’s a failed attempt to ignore the rush of butterflies from the gentle, rich timbre of his voice.

“I don’t want to fall behind,” you tell him, brave enough to catch his eyes that look softer than usual, perhaps brighter, flitting their focus between your left and right.

“Is that worth your sanity?” Javier gives a subdued chuckle, eyebrows pulling up in the middle. You can tell it’s just a poke at you, but there’s a tone of concern laced in there somewhere. “You've been staring at that sheet for a while.”

He turns his body until he’s half-seated on your desk, his long legs extended past the wheels of your chair.

You want to swat his arm. You’d do it lightly, playfully, show him you’re not shy of being in his space... you don’t. Any step forward with Javier is more like a mile forward; it’s elevated with him. Everything is more meaningful. If he lets you in, you’ll fall right to the bottom.

Instead, you let your shoulders slump, staring at the mess you hate so much. All that time spent filing and reporting, signing lines — there’s nothing to show for it. There’s so much left.

And Javier is more insistent tonight. If it were any other day, he’d be sauntering away by now, glancing behind himself for one last look at you. This is a look you’ve yet to notice; he smiles when he turns his head back — taking a step just out of line into someone’s shoulder, or gathering the strength to pull his gaze off of you in time to avoid it.

Today is different; he stays a moment longer. Is it because he can’t help himself? It’s a question he pushes to the back of his mind for later. Now, you’re in need of a push.

“Stop,” he whispers, grabbing the pen from your grip and tossing it from your reach.

“Javi, I was gonna finish—”

He’s right. You’re allowed to leave at a decent time.

His throat tightens, thinking of the exhaustion you’re under, hating that you drive yourself into these situations of reddened eyes and the incessant bouncing of your knee.

And he’s right about before, too. The sheet of paper at the top of this pile is one you could have finished filling out at least fifteen minutes ago, but the fog in your brain cuts off the ability to form any thought other than I don’t feel like doing this.

But Javier, you think, Javier could learn from this too. He’s allowed to feel something other than that deep aching he excels at hiding everywhere but in his eyes.

You know he’s been smoking more lately. His packs empty at a pace just quick enough to earn your worrying. And it’s no secret his sleep is an afterthought too; he’s here with you every night you’re not sleeping either.

“You okay?”

Fuck that question.

Fuck that question and the way it threatens to rip your stability apart.

“Yeah.”

“Look at me,” he taps two fingers on the wood, “and try again.”

“Yes.” The furrow in your brow speaks more for you than your own voice. His expression changes, from the whisper of a smile to that of stony sympathy, the truth of your lassitude hardening his presence.

Christ, he feels it too, but he’s not as nice to himself — he’s never as nice to himself as he is to you. It’s fucking hypocritical what he does, and he carries that awareness deep in his belly when he tells you things like this, like how you should give yourself a break, because he knows he needs it just as much.

Reaching to pat a comforting hand on your shoulder, he stops himself just short of you. Too much? His words are enough, he tells himself.

“Go home,” he speaks soft and slow, whispering your name in a deeper tone, “it would do you some good.”

And as perfectly as life and timing go, your protest — a dig back at him, a “what about you?”— is swallowed by a louder shout, requesting Javier.

He looks down at you, mouth twitching at the corner, and pushes off your desk, “Think about it.”

———

He... didn’t expect you to take his advice.

His eyes fall down to his feet. Shit.

It’s been, what, thirty minutes? And you’ve finally decided to listen to him after weeks of this gentle urging to take care of yourself?

His fingers twitch at his sides. Silent, lazy snapping. Your papers are tucked away in the drawers of your desk, that pen he flicked out of your reach back in its cup holder, the chair neatly pushed in.

Javier should be able to go on with his night, to keep working to ease his mind, but it unsettles him too much to see your desk vacant without saying goodnight first. He’s grown accustomed to this — this stream of feelings you started within him, caring about you — it’s not that he doesn’t like it. It’s that he worries even more now, and it’s not something he could mention to you in all your conversations.

You’re doing fine how you are. You’re managing, you’re getting things done. When he sits at your desk, it’s as much time as he can bear to allow himself without feeling too guilty.

But he questions your safety.

As you key the door to your apartment, hoping you’ll last long enough to brush your teeth before passing out, Javier shrugs on his jacket, the lining cool over his skin. He walks briskly to the exit, giving an unceremonious wave behind him as he slips out the door, heading for his truck.

If you can listen, he can listen.

———

You feel sorry, disappearing like that.

He told me to do it, you reason, so why does your chest feel so tight, like you can’t get enough air? Javier is a capable man, he could last without your goodbyes — he can’t miss you that much.

He comes to visit with his free time, or maybe it’s not free — he needs a distraction — and maybe his brief touches aren’t as meaningful as you think. And that’s enough for you. It’s what you tell yourself when you kick off your shoes and head to the bathroom to wash up — it’s enough. Perhaps, if you had him whole, you couldn’t handle it.

Perhaps, if touching him unapologetically was something you could do, you’d stop yourself too. Knowing his mind is different than knowing his body.

You know his mind; it’s quick and witty and his mouth is smart, (like when he’s perched on your desk with his shirt hanging loose) but his body is something you could learn with your hands — the most you’ve allowed yourself is to brush your fingertips against his when passing him a file, or a pen he doesn’t need.

As you brush your teeth, you think of his hands — you’ve seen the way they handle a gun with such ease and yet care at the same time, the way they press into the edges of your desk, and how his thumb brushes his pouty lower lip when he’s deep in thought. This is the time when you look at him and he doesn’t notice.

His lips — they curl into those half-grins around his cigarette, and his hair, fluffed up by the end of the day, falls over his brow. His shoulders broad, his back strong.

You want to know his body by touch — at least, after finding out why his visits have become so frequent, why his stares are drawn out (this, you know only because you’ve worked up to holding his gaze long enough).

Shit, you mumble as you settle not onto your bed, but the couch, without thinking that this is the wrong place. It’s all Javier in your head. Laying down over the cushions, you close your eyes and hope for a restful sleep.

To thoughts of him, you doze off, picking apart little instances where he’d shown something just beyond friendly affection. Is he always like that? Was he always like that?

It’s been a gradual thing. The first time he’d interrupted your work was purely for professional reasons, and back then, he still took your breath away. It’s more delicate now, the way he speaks to you — different than the pushy yet soft tone when he urged you to find an important piece of information. His words got cheekier, his body closer to yours in those polite intrusions.

You know, when you watch him through the windows in his office, when he doesn’t want to be bothered by others — but even on those days he ends up chatting with you, pain dissipating (and that, you can tell by his fading frown).

He’s eased his way into you, bit by bit, and bit by bit you would fall apart if he ever stopped interrupting you.

———

At first, you don’t wake up to the noise. You stir, your body shifting over the couch cushions, ignorant of the gentle rapping at the door. It stops, for a moment, before coming back harder, louder.

It’s incessant by the time your eyes finally open, your heart an overwhelming weight, pounding in your chest. Fuck, who is that? It’s enough of a scare waking up to a racket like this, but someone is out there, you remind yourself, someone’s knocking, and it’s really fucking loud.

There’s a shout of your name, you’re sure; it’s not just your startled mind making you hear it. And it sounds like his voice, worried.

Rushing to the door and brushing the hair from your face, you lean to the small spyhole in the middle of it.

You see the same shirt you’d had your eyes on for nearly half the day, under a leather jacket — of course it’s Javier. You almost forget he’s waiting for you, distracted by the way he’s standing, hands on his hips and his head hanging low between his shoulders. He’s thinking — lip caught in his teeth and his chest heaving slightly, as if he’s trying to suppress another shout of your name.

Your mind comes back around, hand jumping to the lock and then the handle on the door, twisting it frantically. As you push it open, his head snaps up, wide brown eyes flashing to your face, to your thigh, back to your face.

You rub your eyes, “Javier?”

His chest falls with an exhalation of relief, fingers pinching his nose as he shifts his weight to the other foot, “Shit, I didn’t realize you’d be asleep already—”

“—It’s okay... are you okay?” You ask shakily, stepping further from the door, and in your diminishing haze, you miss the way he cautiously eyes you a second time.

“You took my advice,” he starts in disbelief, the look of concern softening to something proud, his hair tousled with the breeze from open windows during the drive. “I... wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

Oh, god, your heart is beating too fast for you to keep up with it.

His look is sad and sincere, brows pulling up in the middle as he watches you through his eyelashes for forgiveness; he’s pleased you’re safe, yet he’s beating himself up for interrupting the sleep he’d talked you into getting.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, wrapping your arms around yourself. It’s not something he had to do, and he looks like he could use a longer break than yourself, but he’s still here.

Javier walks closer, “Were you, uh, sleeping well? Before I woke you up?” His hand lands beside your head on the doorframe, body leaning intimately near yours.

“I was, I— how’d you get here?”

As he’d expected it, Javier’s response is honest, though the same thing he always tells you when he’s surprised you with his doings, “Pulled some strings, dug through some files.”

He’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghosting your shoulder, that same fresh and heady scent washing over you.

Pulling strings; it’s what he does.

You try to think, with his eyes ceaselessly roving over your face, whether to invite him in or not. It’s not what he came to do.

But it’s late, you’re both tired, there’s drinks to offer him — for being so kind, you rationalize.

“How far out of your way am I?” you ask, unable to tear your eyes away from his. He’s boring into you. Mercilessly so. You try not to breathe too hard, let your cheeks burn too hot — he makes it impossible to control.

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismisses the question, “I know nothing happened now.”

“I get home safe every other night,” you smile at him, teasing, his face returning that same look; he knows this. Your early absence was just an excuse for it.

“What if it had been different?” He slants further, and it’s a great fucking struggle not to brush a strand of your hair back. He instead clenches the fist around the door frame, patting the side of his leg with the other, just for something to do with himself in place of pressing his hands to your hips and risking your disapproval.

There’s nothing to say to that. You giggle, maybe nervously, maybe just from his softly pressing nature, but he’s retreating now, fingers sliding down the wood as his body leaves yours.

“’M sorry I woke... you should get back to sleep.” He speaks lethargically, a heavy energy settling on his shoulders at the idea of leaving you, especially in those soft clothes where your thighs peek out, the endearing way you lean against the door in your dying sleepiness.

His hands are back on his hips when he says your name and tells you goodnight, a minor frown on his face.

If Javier stays any longer, he might not leave without kissing you, at least, not without some indulgent touches he can hardly pass up on anymore.

Except you call his name back, returning the polite farewell, Goodnight, Javier — still buzzing that he came all this way, and your heart falling that it hasn’t gone further than what you do when you’re at work, with people watching.

No one else is here. You could do anything — he could do anything he wanted.

He stills. Calculates. Makes his eyes big at you.

No, he can’t leave.

He returns steadily, weary of this ceaseless watching, noticing, knowing you and not having you. He looks left and right over the other doors, lowering his head and sighing, “You’re killing me, baby.”

The first touch is his warm hand cradling your neck, thumb brushing lazily over your jaw, the other hand finding a home on your hip and tugging you to him. As your breath catches, his lips close in on yours, velvet, warm, and full. Wanting, needing, but not greedy.

He walks you back inside with his body, the door swinging further open with the force of your bodies shoving past.

"Is this okay?” he murmurs deep into your mouth, earning your consent in a single word and breath, yes.

Javier is gentle with you, pulling back as little as he needs to tilt his head the other way, your arms wrapping wantonly around his neck. None of it is rough or forceful — it happens like it should, like it’s meant to for a number of arduous weeks. There’s small sounds coming, quiet whimpers and relieved sighs each time you break apart to come back together.

Javi, you breathe, before you’re swallowed in him again, tenderly, your lungs begging you to gasp for more air. You hold on as long as you can, till he’s lost it too, parting to watch your face and to see you shyly smiling up at him.

His hold moves to your waist when he kicks the door closed behind him. A moment, of sharing your breaths, his nose nudging along your cheekbone, turns everything to shades of pink. He shrugs his jacket off, letting it slip from his arms and, keeping his face nestled to the side of yours, he lets it fall.

“Fuck,” he whispers, mouth open until you kiss him again, your fingers running easily through his silky hair, resting at the nape of his neck.

Nothing, nothing, has felt this good in years; Javier fights to keep a semblance of calm, expressing desperation through a tight embrace.

He’s your only anchor, though he doesn’t weigh you down — he supports you, keeps you from drifting. Hot and smooth and selfless. You could topple over, but the wall of his chest and the hold of his arms are too strong and firm.

For him, and you, it doesn’t need to go any further tonight. Kissing you is everything to him, hands never prying past your clothing or sliding over the more sensitive parts of you — but he needs as much of this as he can get, going slightly hazy at the thrill and bliss of touching you like this.

His lips are an incessant, delicate brush against yours, his top lining with your bottom when he nips at you. It’s nothing if not forgiving, and through the kisses from his warmth, he unwillingly whispers, “Baby, we should sleep.”

“I know,” you agree, his proposal sounding like a habitual thing between you, “I don’t know if I can.”

Sleep is far away from your racing mind. He makes a pleased sound when your fingers brush over his collarbone where his shirt lays unbuttoned.

“You will.” He cups your face in his hands, this time kissing you with less urgency and a higher sense of quietude — it’s happened. It’s you and him now, in your living room that borders the kitchen, feeling each other. It’s you and him, confessing through affection the ache of wanting one another.

Javier tells you, in a hushed and kind tone, that he’ll stay tonight, if it would help you sleep. If it’s what you want.

tags: @queenbbarnes @ayamenimthiriel @princessxkenobi @filthybookworm @mitchi-c @jettia @bookofbriar @nomanchesnoncreator @harrys-stan @meshlamando @jabbajambler @nakhudanyx @lycheemi @kj-holmes @goldengubs @mandoclan @lady-of-glass-and-bone @thehippiequilter

— if your user is on here but not properly linked, your blog was not able to be tagged! :(

send me a message if you’d like to be added or removed!

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal #narcos #my writing #narcos fanfic

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peach-the-owl · 3 years ago

Note

I loved seeing the Gentlemen saves Jester's kid in the Rescued piece you wrote, could we have some more of the Gentlemen and Jester's kid? Maybe them calling him Grandpa?

Sorry this took so long, it started as one thing and then turned into something I didn't originally plan for… Hope you still like it 😁

The Little Things You See

Child of the Nein (Jester & Child!Reader)

(More of The Gentleman & Child!Reader but you get the idea)

As much as you’d like to help the Nein in their missions there were a few exceptions here and there were you would have to stay behind, one such reason being the group getting tasked by the Gentleman to look into a… as Jester put it, bad version of her mother’s job.

"This is for grownups only okay, no sneaking along." Jester re-informs, you give her a nod. "I mean it, this isn’t just a fight the bad guys and win, we have to be a little more sneaky and I don’t want you to get caught in something really inappropriate."

"Okay mama, I promise not to follow." You say holding one hand up and placing the other on your chest to show her you didn’t have your fingers crossed… this time.

"Good good," she hums happily, "and don’t worry you'll be looked after here, right dad!" She calls over to the Gentleman, who rubs at his temples and lets out a groan. He quickly straightens himself out more and goes on to give one more quick briefing to the Nein before they depart, leaving you there with him.

"So now what?" You tilt your head up at him curiously.

"Now I have some business to attend to, while you stay here and don’t cause any trouble." He simply says, making you pout as he turns and walks away from you. You hobble over to a chair and sit yourself down at a table and make a few doodles in your journal as you wait for time to pass, it’s not long however before you start to get bored and fidgety, feeling the need to get up and do something. You slide off the chair and have a look around, something catches your eye and a mischievous look crosses your features…

"What did I not just tell you!?" He looks at you with strong annoyance. The bar fight behind you finally calming down.

"It’s not my fault this place can get boring, I was just trying to add a little more fun." You give a smile, a hint of deviousness still behind it.

"This is not your playground, this is a serious business." He groans, rubbing at his temples.

"Yeah and I’m bored, I wanna do something with my grandpa!" You hop in place, hoping he'd take a hint. His eye twitches a bit as he turns away from you, placing a hand to his forehead and taking a audible breath.

"I don’t know what's been placed in your mind but I've already discussed this. I am not Jester's father, and I’m certainly not your grandfather so just… stop!" It goes quiet between the two of you for a very long time, you shuffle off to the side and pull out a toy from your pack to mindlessly play with it, there was a strong question on your mind but decided it best to give the Gentleman some peace for a while to cool off first.

"Why do you act like you don’t want to be my mama's dad?" You ask suddenly, catching the Gentleman off guard from your softer tone.

"Wha… I… this is a very complicated subject I don’t think you’d quite understand." He says slowly, you let out a sigh.

"I pay more attention to some things then people think I really do, I’ve seen how you'd get this look of… I don’t know what to call it… sadness I guess, when mama would talk about wanting you to be with grandma again." You say, fiddling with the toy in your hands.

"See you don’t understand, I’m a wanted man and stepping into the public eye would cause trouble. So you see now, even if I did want to I couldn’t. Not that I care much anyways." He try’s explaining, while also trying to brush your to the side.

"Why are adults so dumb and hide their feelings so much." You’re now the one sighing in annoyance at him. "It’s like you’re scared of being your real self." You finish.

"I beg your pardon." The Gentleman looks at you, quite offended by your words. "Did you not hear what I just said? I am a powerful crime boss, with powerful connections and blood on my hands, wanted for so many different things."

"And you’re scared to be yourself." You say both nonchalantly and matter-of-factly, all while still playing around with the toy in your hands.

"I cannot believe I’m having this kind of conversation with a child. Why do you think I should care about what you say." He says, sounding irritated.

"Well, why did you bother to help me from my caretaker?" Finally, finally you make eye contact with him. "They weren’t completely wrong when they’d said I didn’t have anyone else, before I met Jester they were the only one I had. If you don’t care, why would you help me and not do your business stuff like you normally do?" A long silence falls between the two of you.

"You are something else." He starts, quietly. "I never would’ve guessed a normally spritely child could pick up on so much."

"I love having fun and exploring! But I can also notice things you adults don’t seem to, which is weird because it seems obvious to me." You mutter the last part more to yourself. He looks like he’s about to say something but you cut him off and quickly change the subject when you hear your stomach growl at you. "I’m hungry. Got any snacks?" He stares at you a second before placing a hand to his head, a more amused look on his face this time at your quick change in behaviour.

"Something else indeed." He mutters, before straightening his posture. "Very well, but you’ll have to assist me in something."

"Like what!?" Your eyes light up in excitement and curiosity.

"You said it yourself, you notice things we adults apparently cannot. I have caught wind of a mole amongst our ranks, with your observational skills and innocent charm perhaps you’ll be able to help identify them." He sounded much more relaxed, like some invisible weight just lifted away, if only just a little bit.

"Really? Cool! I know how to use Zone of Truth if you need it… wait no, Caleb's told me I can’t unless it’s like a really important thing."

"This is important, for me." He pauses a moment. "I won’t tell if you don’t." He adds, placing a finger to his lips, there's a minor hint of playfulness in his voice making you beam and nod. With that you not only got some tasty snacks but also got to spend some more time with the Gentleman, it was a win win. He certainly still held his formal face in front of everyone else because business is still business and there was the mole situation that you were helping sort out but he was able to drop some of that facade for you, though not by a lot. It was funny to you how stubborn grownup were, seeing how they’d always call you the stubborn one.

It may have taken up a day and a half but surprisingly your hunt for the mole was a lot easier then you thought, you sat in a separate room from the bar, set up a Zone of Truth spell and put on an sweet, innocent act so that those affected by the spell would quickly fall into a false sense of security around you and hopefully forget about the spell in general. You’d then ask specific questions the Gentleman had given you, paying as much attention to the person's actions and tone when they'd answer, even if they could only speak the truth that didn’t mean they could work around their words. Once you found someone suspicious they’d be brought elsewhere for further questioning, or at least that’s what you were told, as it turns out there were a few moles working together to try and bring down the Gentleman’s operations (red was looking pretty sus…… I’ll stop). You were just glad you could help, like your own little mission. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was closer to 4 days the Nein return having completed their mission, without hesitation you run over and get swept up into a hug by Jester.

"Your back! How was it? Did you stop all the bad guys?" You bombard her with questions, she laughs and does her best to answer them as best as possible, leaving out anything you were too young to know about yet.

"What about you? How was your time here?" Jester asks you which you happily recount what you all did to her, pointing to a corner of the wall where you’d made some drawings for the Traveler making her smile. She secures her grip on you and the group starts to make their way out, but not before she looks over at the Gentleman. "Thanks for looking after them dad." She calls, he looks away and sighs.

"Yeah, It was a lot of fun. Thanks grandpa!" You also call.

"Please don’t call me that." He says, rubbing a hand down his face. You catch the slightest twitch of a smile on his face before it goes back to being neutral, you giggle at this, grownups really were weird.

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #jester lavorre #jester & reader

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aquafolia · 3 years ago

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Sokai Day Fic 1: True Love’s Kiss(es)

So yes, I am a Classics/ancient history blog, and this is obviously super different from the content I normally post on this blog. Please forgive me, but I’ve recently become OBSESSED with Kingdom Hearts and I have nowhere else to post this stuff at the moment. So please forgive me, normal content will resume soon!

Anyway, as I said I just started playing the KH games for the first time this summer and it’s been so much fun. And seeing all the amazing stories and artwork in this fandom has inspired me to write some stuff too. Anyway, I’m Holly, and I hope y’all enjoy :)

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True Love’s Kiss(es)

‘Ugh!’ Kairi groaned, unceremoniously setting down the basket she held in her hands. ‘I forgot that when you pick apples, you have to actually carry them all back, too!’

‘Your basket’s not even half full, Kairi,’ Sora remarked, ‘and we’ve only just started!’

She grinned. ‘Well then, it’s a good thing I have a strong, manly boyfriend to help me carry all of these.’

He could hardly argue with that. Sora feigned displeasure by rolling his eyes and letting out a dramatic groan, which made Kairi giggle. But then he walked over to her, grabbing one of the basket’s handles as she grabbed the other, and the pair made their way deeper down the rows of apple trees. They could hear the distant shouts and laughs of their friends echoing through the orchard as they went. Apparently, Twilight Town– a world basically in perpetual autumn– was known for its fall festivities, including its legendary apple orchards. Once they’d visited the orchards, the gang hoped Remi would help them make apple pies, apple cider, and all sorts of goodies during their visit. To that end, the group had decided to break up into teams in order to pick as many apples as they could carry. Today, Sora and Kairi were paired up. But Sora knew that if they only returned with a measly half basket of apples, the others would surely tease them, accuse them of slacking off.

They wouldn’t be totally wrong, Sora thought with a grin. Sure, Kairi was determined to focus on their task: she was deep in concentration, examining each apple carefully before deciding to place it in her basket. Sora, on the other hand, was much more determined to get Kairi off task. It wasn’t that Sora didn’t want to help out, but this was an opportunity for him and Kairi to spend some time alone– that was a temptation greater than any fruit, in Sora’s world.

Kairi set her sights on a shiny red apple that hung high on a nearby tree. She stood up on her tiptoes, making adorable little noises as she tried to grab it. Sora was staring intently, but not at the apple: Kairi’s form was stretched out in front of him as she reached high over her head, accentuating her curves, and Sora was mesmerized. It was only when she said his name that he snapped out of his trance: ‘Sora,’ she called out, not taking her eyes off the fruit, ‘would you come over and help me with this one? You should be able to–’

Kairi shrieked as Sora, having silently moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her legs and hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

‘Tall enough now?’ he asked casually.

Her surprised squeak was the only reply Kairi could muster. Once she’d successfully picked the apple, Sora released her hips. He held her by the waist as her body slid down his until she landed gently on the ground. Even in the autumn chill, Sora could feel his cheeks burning.

Having regained some of her composure, with a giggle, Kairi said, ‘Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?’ before she turned to the next tree. Sora tried to hide it by replying with a level ‘Absolutely,’ but inside, he was beaming: watching the effect he had on Kairi just never got old for him– but given how hard he had to try to appear cool and unfazed, it wasn’t like he was much better than she was.

Now that he’d had his fun, Sora walked up next to Kairi to help out. The pair picked apples side by side, happily chatting and admiring each other's finds, and over time, their basket filled with bright red apples. While they worked, something about the orchard nagged at Sora’s mind, but he couldn't place it. As he studied a large, blood-red apple in his hands, it finally clicked.

‘All these apples remind me of Snow White,’ Sora remarked. ‘Aqua told me how Snow White’s evil stepmother tried to kill her by getting her to eat a poisoned apple. The dwarves thought she was dead, so they placed her in a beautiful glass casket,’ Sora recalled, his eyes still fixed on the apple. He found himself absentmindedly tracing the spot on his chest where a scar marred the skin over his heart: the permanent reminder of his sacrifice for Kairi– well, his first one, anyway.

‘But she wasn’t dead,’ Sora continued, thought bleeding into memory. ‘She was asleep, and she couldn’t wake up…’

‘Until her true love saved her.’

That broke Sora out of his reverie. He looked up to find Kairi already gazing at him, her eyes soft and sincere. Sora replied, ‘Yeah… Reminds me of another princess I know.’

Did she really mean…? They’d talked about their first adventure numerous times before, but she’d never said it like that.

‘I would have killed for a nice bed to sleep on,’ she continued. ‘You and Riku took me on quite a journey– napping peacefully in a meadow sounds pretty good to me,’ Kairi said with a grin.

A breeze drifted through the orchard, rustling the leaves over their heads. ‘I remember your dad telling us all those old fairy tales when we were kids,’ Sora said. ‘After all the adventures we’ve had… it’s strange to think we sort of became one ourselves.’

‘They’re not always as fun to live as they are to hear…’ Kairi remarked, almost to herself, ‘when you don’t know if there’ll be a happy ending after all.’ Her eyes grew distant, drifting aimlessly down the row of apple trees. ‘I… I still remember waking up at Hollow Bastion, seeing that Keyblade in your chest… And then how you–’ she started, but then faltered, unable to bring herself to say what came next.

Sora gently placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. She still seemed lost in thought, not meeting his eyes. ‘I know what you mean. But we did get one, didn’t we, Kairi? It took a while, and we’ve had to find each other again and again, but now you’re here. And thanks to you, I’m here. We’re finally together, and nothing is ever going to change that. That’s the best ‘happily ever after’ I could have wished for.’

The pair were alone, the trees standing sentry around them, but his voice grew softer all the same: these words were just for her. ‘All that doesn’t really matter anymore,’ Sora continued. ‘What I mean is… what matters is that we’re here now. That means it was all worth it.’ He took her hand, interlacing their fingers. ‘Back at Hollow Bastion, when I saw your eyes open just before mine closed, when I knew your heart was safe… it was worth it, Kairi.’

She finally looked up at him. Sora hoped his eyes conveyed the sincerity of his words: It had all been for her– and it had all been worth it, every moment. Every time Sora got to see her sweet smile, got to hear her lovely laugh, it was worth it. And now, he wasn’t just connected to her across the worlds by promises and oaths– if he wanted to find Kairi, all Sora had to do was reach for her hand. How was that not a dream come true?

A small smile forming on her lips, Kairi gave him a look of such love and gratitude that Sora knew she felt the same. ‘It just makes our time together now even more precious to me,’ she finally said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m never going to take this for granted.’

Sora decided then to gather her into his arms and bring her close, her head resting in the crook of his neck, his cheek on her soft hair. ‘You know,’ he started after a pause, ‘I have to admit, when I heard Snow White’s story, I got a bit jealous.’

Kairi pulled back just enough to shoot him a quizzical look. ‘Jealous?’

‘Yeah, of Prince Florian. All he had to do to wake up Snow White and save the day was kiss her– pretty nice deal, if you ask me,’ Sora explained. Kairi smiled, but her eyes were still a bit sad. So he continued, a grin spreading across his face, ‘Don’t know why I didn’t think to try that first…’

‘Oh, Sora!’ Kairi giggled, giving Sora a playful smack on his arm, her face brighter. ‘What, does that mean you thought about kissing Ven at some point, too?’ she countered.

‘I was getting so desperate to find the Power of Waking, I just might have!’ Sora replied, and they both laughed again. Keeping one arm around Kairi, he took a bite from the apple still in his hand. It was crisp and fresh, and amazingly sweet– it was just right, like everything else in this moment.

Suddenly, with a smirk on her face, Kairi plucked the half-eaten apple from Sora’s hand. She lifted the fruit to her lips, holding Sora’s gaze as she took a large bite next to where he’d just bitten, a small drop of juice running down her chin as she chewed. All Sora could do was watch her, hopelessly mesmerized. It was bold, yet playful– Kairi to a T. Before Sora’s brain could fully resume normal functioning, Kairi said, feigning innocence, ‘What? Isn’t sharing fruit kind of our thing? It’s no paopu fruit, but still…’

Staring into her eyes, the radiant sunset bathing them in soft, warm light, Sora grew bold himself: They’d spent so long in silence, so long apart, why waste any time? He’d fought so hard to find her, to come back to her, over and over again. She was right here– if he wanted to kiss her, what on earth was there to consider? Sora reached a hand forward to cup her cheek, wiping the juice from the corner of her lip with his thumb. Kairi let the gentle pull of his thumb part her lips. ‘It is pretty good,’ Sora said, ‘but… you definitely taste better.’ And with that, he lowered his head and kissed her. He heard the sound of the apple landing on the ground, utterly forgotten, as Kairi’s arms wound around his neck.

And Sora had to admit, kissing Kairi felt pretty magical– Maybe those fairytales were onto something after all.

But of course, the distant sound of Aqua, Ven, and Riku calling out in search of them forced the pair to break their kiss, albeit begrudgingly. Sora expected Kairi to step away, pick up her basket, maybe call out to their friends– but she didn’t. She stayed as she was in Sora’s arms, one hand resting on his shirt, over the scar. Sora could feel his heartbeat racing under her touch. When she looked up at him again, something in her eyes was different. Still happy, but mixed with something else– not just happiness, but a determination to be so.

‘This is a pretty large orchard,’ Kairi remarked, her eyes bright. ‘Our friends probably won’t find us for a little while longer…’

‘We’d better not make them wait too long, or Axel will use his chakrams to–’

Kairi grabbed Sora’s hoodie with both hands and pulled him back down to her lips. For a moment, Sora stood frozen, eyes wide with shock. But as she melted into him, his eyes fluttered closed and he wound his arms around her, each kiss between them less ‘Fairy Godmother Friendly’ than the last. Traditionally, in all those fairytales, the heroes only ever got one ‘True Love’s Kiss.’ Sora considered himself the luckiest prince of all time– he had a never ending supply.

Twilight Town was always just that– hanging in perpetual dusk. So Sora really didn’t know how long he and Kairi spent like that, lost in laughter and kisses and caresses beneath the trees. But once their friends’ voices grew dangerously close, Sora and Kairi managed to untangle themselves, wiping swollen lips, readjusting ruffled clothing, and fixing disheveled hair (not that Sora’s hair had been tidy in the first place– and Kairi burst out laughing when she realized her attempts to smooth it didn’t do much good, either). As Kairi called out to their friends, Sora picked up her basket, now full of delicious looking apples, and the pair began to head back toward the orchard entrance. They probably hadn’t gathered the most apples– and he was sure their friends would point that fact out– but Sora didn’t care one bit. He wouldn’t have traded this day for anything.

‘Hey Kairi?’ Sora said as they walked, ‘For the record, if I’m ever in a fruit induced coma– or any other kind of coma, really– feel free to make out with me, in order to revive me. Thought I should say so, you know, just in case.’

‘Oh, really?’ She teased back. ‘I’ll make sure to tell Donald– you always complain he never uses Curaga when you need it.’

‘What? No! Ew, gross!’ Sora blanched as Kairi dissolved into laughter. But when his eyes found hers again, he couldn’t help but smile.

As her giggles died out, she replied, 'Okay, I’ll remember that… But that doesn’t mean you can go throw yourself into danger so I’ll kiss you better!’

‘I can’t help it– when you kiss me, I feel like I can do anything,’ Sora answered simply. Kairi’s eyes widened at his remark, and she ducked her head as her cheeks bloomed pink. Sora beamed. He may have been laying it on her thick, but Sora wasn’t lying: He had true love on his side– the most powerful magic of all.

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#sokai day 2021 #sokai #kairi #sora #I'm new to this ship but absolutely obsessed #here is my humble addition to sokai day :)#sokaiday

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alinastracker · 3 years ago

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Infuriating: Part Two (ao3)

Part One was Mal and Alina’s camp love story. Now it’s Zoya and Nikolai’s turn.

For Zoya Nazyalensky, it was hate at first sight when she met Nikolai Lantsov at Kamp Keramzin. But as she learns who the spoiled blond really is through the years, Zoya has to sort out feelings she never expected having.

Before

Zoya Nazyalensky hated Nikolai Lantsov.

She hated him before she had even known his name. Perhaps hate was a strong word for someone she had only one, brief interaction with. But Zoya had always been more inclined to feel more intensely than most children, and so she found it a perfectly fitting description.

Zoya was bouncing in the back of her aunt’s beat up SUV the entire way to Kamp Keramzin. Up until two weeks ago, she had been preparing to spend another miserable summer with her mother and her alcoholic boyfriend, hoping that her father would visit her in between business trips. Then one afternoon, Aunt Liliyana had stopped in for an unexpected visit. Zoya had hoped she would take her back to the tiny coastal town Liliyana called home, at least until school started up in the fall, but she had come with something even better: a registration pamphlet for Keramzin.

Her mother had scoffed. “You know I can’t afford that shit.”

But you can afford the drugs, Zoya thought but didn’t say. Despite everything, she loved her mother. She wanted to make her proud. But it seemed like nothing Zoya did was ever good enough for Sabina to turn away from the allure of the drugs and the liquor, or worse, the abusive men she brought home.

“I’m paying for it,” Liliyana said. “That is, if you want to go?”

Zoya had absolutely wanted to go.

Though now that she was here, hugging her aunt for dear life, she found herself filled with nerves. She knew Liliyana had scraped together nickels and dimes to send Zoya to camp. Looking around, she could already see, just from the state of their clothes, that the other children here had more than she did. Could she even survive a whole summer away from her family? Maybe she had been naive, hoping to escape.

“My little storm,” Liliyana sighed. “This is going to be so good for you. Free that troubled mind of yours.” She tipped the young girl's chin up, locking eyes with her. “Remember, you are Zoya Nazyalensky, and you are worthy.”

Zoya tried to hold the thought in her mind as she walked past the line of other cars and parents dropping their children off for the summer, her duffle bag of belongings slung over her shoulder. A bored driver waited in a car near the front of the line as a blond woman who reeked of money patted the head of an equally blond boy who looked to be around Zoya’s age. The expression on his face was as sour as spoiled milk.

“It’s not fair,” the boy huffed. “Vasily doesn’t have to—”

“Your brother has his horses, and you will have this.”

“I was fine at home! I wanted to spend the summer on—”

“Yes, on your little gadgets.” The woman sighed. “And how well did that work out last summer? Mrs. Ivanov’s dog needs anxiety medication now.”

“The thing with Feliks was an accident!”

“Regardless, you are here because of your own actions, Nikolai. This is your last chance, or next year it’s boarding school. No more hijinks, do you understand me?”

The boy — Nikolai — pouted, but grumbled out a semi-respectful, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now run along.”

Zoya, realizing she had stopped to listen, picked up her pace as naturally as possible. Mentally, she scoffed. How privileged this boy was, huffing and puffing. Didn’t he know how much her aunt had sacrificed just to send her here? How thankful Zoya was, and she hadn’t even stepped foot in the place yet?

She decided then and there that she would stay far away from the spoiled brat.

So naturally, he was put into her group for orientation. There were six of them in total, and as they went around introducing themselves, Zoya wasn’t sure she liked any of them. One girl, Marie, seemed tolerable enough, she supposed.

“Nikolai Lantsov,” the blond boy said when his turn came. A couple of the others exchanged glances that Zoya couldn’t interpret. If Nikolai was surprised by their reaction, he didn’t show it.

Her turn came, and she tried to remember what her aunt had told her as she said, “Zoya Nazyalensky.”

One of the boys frowned. “Nazyalensky? That’s a mouthful.”

She was half-ready to show him what a mouthful really was when Nikolai said with a casual shrug, “I like it.”

Maybe the boy wouldn’t be so bad after all—

Nikolai had turned to her then, a frown tugging at his lips. “You have something on your shirt, Nazyalensky.”

Zoya looked down at herself and sure enough, there was a stain, likely from one of her grandmother’s meals that were almost always served with a rich sauce. Most of her clothes had some kind of stain or little holes from the sheer number of years she’d owned them.

She was back to hating him.

Their first summer had been more of the same. Nikolai would say something almost nice, only to follow it up with something that made her want to punch him. Zoya ignored him as much as humanly possible, but like any invasive species, he kept popping up.

Regardless of the ever annoying Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya loved every second at Keramzin. She wrote multiple postcards to her aunt with updates, and even a couple to her mother. Despite not being as well off as most of the other kids, Zoya always kept her aunt’s parting message close to her chest.

You are Zoya Nazyalensky, and you are worthy.

And she quickly learned that half of being popular was believing that you should be. She walked through camp with her head held high, and if that made her a little intimidating to the others, so be it. At least when it came to her age group, Zoya found herself holding court. The girls wanted to be her, the boys (and some of the girls, too) wanted to kiss her — all the more so during her second year at Keramzin as she further grew into her looks. She was naturally gifted at most of the camp activities. Everyone wanted her on their team for games like kickball and tug of war. She could swim laps around everyone in the lake. Finally given the opportunity, Zoya simply thrived.

As the years went on, the only one who matched Zoya’s popularity at Keramzin was Nikolai, much to her dismay. But unlike Zoya, Nikolai hadn’t had to work for his level of adoration from the other campers. He wasn’t good at most of the activities, but everyone still wanted him on their team. He didn’t need to be good. Rather, Nikolai capitalized off of his good looks, his money, and his natural charm — though Zoya would dispute him having any of the latter. But she couldn’t deny his money. His father was some big shot in the business world, the Lantsov name apparently rather well known. And, as much as she wanted to deny it, he was attractive. Golden blond hair, hazel eyes that always held a wink of something mischievous. He was annoyingly smart and worldly, though she would never tell him that. She would never tell him most of her deeper feelings regarding him. For him.

Because despite her best effort, Zoya found herself by Nikolai’s side again and again every summer, like clockwork. Despite being well loved, neither of them had really bonded strongly with the campers in their year. It didn’t help that he was the only one who could handle her jabs and withering glares, laughing them off as if she couldn’t possibly mean anything she said. But she definitely meant every word.

Mostly every word.

Instead, they had found themselves entangled with a group that had formed in the year below them. Alina Starkov and Malyen Oretsev, the two most oblivious people to ever live. Genya Safin, so naturally gorgeous and put together that Zoya had let her jealousy convince her she hated the girl at first. But then Genya had shown her how to do her hair in more ways than Zoya's usual ponytail, and helped her make something out of her meager clothing selections, even going as far to stitch up holes in some of her more worn tee shirts. Why she looked at David Kostyk of all people with puppy eyes she would never understand, though Nikolai was rather obsessed with the genius boy, too. Nadia Zhabin, one of the funniest people she had ever met with an incredible amount of wit. Mikhael and Dubrov, two textbook definitions of himbos.

And if the group had looked up to Zoya and Nikolai as their cool older friends, at least for a couple years, they pretended like it didn’t go to their heads.

Zoya tried to explain to the girls why she hated Nikolai during one of the camp’s Sleep Under the Stars nights, ditching her group to pull her sleeping bag over to where Alina, Genya, and Nadia were camped out.

“He’s arrogant, spoiled rotten, and downright infuriating,” she’d said.

Genya had been the one to bravely raise a brow and ask, “Are you sure you don’t just have a crush on him?”

“Absolutely not! I can't stand him.”

Zoya had kept up the same attitude, even as her traitorous hormones had begun to notice the strong line of his jaw, the hard muscles of his back when they were swimming at the lake. He was still an asshole — even if it was mostly accidentally. He was still spoiled. Cocky. Often deserving of a good punch to his pretty face.

Until her fourth year of camp, when everything in Zoya’s life changed.

When Zoya was called to the camp’s main office one day halfway through the summer, she assumed someone had ratted about her sneaking off into Maxim’s cabin last night. He was a year older and quite the kisser. But as soon as she had seen the look on Mr. Botkin’s face, she knew something was terribly wrong.

“Miss Nazyalensky, I’m so sorry to have to share this news with you,” he said in his thick accent, his face softer than she had ever seen it. “Your mother called. There was an accident involving your aunt.”

Zoya barely heard the next words out of his mouth. Drunk driver. It happened fast. Funeral in a couple days. Can’t afford the bus ticket for home and Novokribirsk, so—

She ran out of the office after that, all the way back to her cabin, ignoring other camper’s worried glances and calls for her. Of course, her stingy, selfish mother would only pay for one ticket. Zoya knew the woman expected her to stay at camp and use that one ticket to get home at the end of the summer. But screw that. Zoya would use it to go to her aunt’s funeral, even if she had no way home afterwards.

Zoya was in the middle of stuffing her bag, too frantic to care about folding her clothes or being gentle with fragile items, when the cabin door opened. She barely noticed. Zoya couldn’t stay here another second, the place she had come to love more than her own home, the place she had only been able to attend because her aunt had paid for her stay the past four summers.

Her thoughts were as panicked as her packing. Had Aunt Liliyana been driving home from an extra shift when she had been hit? Or from her first job to the second she had taken on? Would she have needed to do either of those if she hadn’t paid for Keramzin? Was her aunt gone because of her?

Zoya ignored the footsteps, assuming one of the girls was coming to grab a hair tie or change into a swimsuit. Or maybe one of them had seen her run from the office and had come to ask about her. She had no time for that.

But the hand that gently — albeit firmly — closed around her wrist, halting her movement, definitely didn’t belong to Alina, Genya, or Nadia.

“Zoya?” Nikolai said, his voice taking on a gentle tone she’d never heard from him before. “What’s going on?”

Zoya pulled away from him. “I don’t have time to pander to your needs, Lantsov,” she snarled.

Never deterred by her icy demeanor, he perched on the edge of her bed. “You’re quite capable of working and speaking at the same time, if all those insults you’ve thrown at me over crafts serve as proof.”

“Fuck off, Nikolai.”

He sighed. “Zoya, please,” Nikolai said, bringing her to a momentary pause. Please was not often found in his vocabulary, not in such a genuine manner. “The others are worried, too.”

The words came out in a tumble as she stuffed the last few items into her bag. “My aunt was in a car accident and now she’s dead and the funeral is in a couple days and I have to go but my mother will only buy me one bus ticket so I have to decide between going home or going to the funeral and of course I’m going to the funeral, I’ll fucking walk the miles home if I have to but I just have to go—”

Nikolai took hold of both of her wrists now, and only then did Zoya realize the zipper she was hopelessly trying to close was stuck. “Breathe, Zoya.”

She shook her head. Tears had been building behind her eyes since Botkin had said the words your aunt was in a car accident and at any moment they were going to spill over. She couldn’t cry in front of Nikolai Lantsov. “I can’t,” she whispered, and cried anyway.

Nikolai let go of her hands, taking a moment to carefully zip up her bag, before he pulled her into his chest. Later, Zoya would curse herself, but all she could do in that moment was let Nikolai hold her as her body shook with sobs.

“I’ll call my driver,” he murmured eventually. “He’ll take you to Novokribirsk and home to Pachina and anywhere else you want to go.”

“No—”

“Yes. I’m stupidly rich, Zoya. Let me at least do something good with it.”

The next morning, a friendly older man named Igor waited for her in a brand new Rolls Royce outside the gates of Keramzin. Botkin took her bag to the trunk while she said goodbye to the friends that had walked out with her. It was the most vulnerable she had been with them, and were the situation not so heartbreaking, she knew they would have teased her about it. Instead she only got hugs and promises of texts and pictures. To everyone’s surprise, she saved Nikolai for last.

“Thank you, Lantsov,” she murmured into the crook of his shoulder. Were she not so miserable, she might’ve noticed how good he smelled for a sixteen year old boy in ninety degree weather.

“Don’t be a stranger, Nazyalensky.”

To Zoya’s surprise, she wasn’t.

Now

Zoya Nazyalensky still hated Nikolai Lantsov.

At least, she pretended to, because admitting the truth was much more terrifying.

“Are you even paying attention, Zoya?” Genya sighed.

No, she wasn’t, because she was watching Nikolai bend over to tie his shoe, marveling at his ass. How he had only managed to get hotter through the years was a sin, and nineteen was already looking to be his best year yet.

Genya shifted, purposely blocking her view of Nikolai’s tight behind. “Focus! This is only going to work if we’re all on board.”

Zoya waved her off. “Yes, yes, I’ve got it. I’ll send Oretsev into the shed for you when the time arises. I still don’t think this is going to work. Both of them are too stubborn for their own good.”

“I don’t know,” Nadia countered. “They’ll never get over their problems if they keep avoiding each other. Never underestimate the power of forced bonding.”

“Exactly!” Genya said. Out of all of them, Zoya knew Genya wanted this plan to work most of all, convinced that Mal and Alina were destined lovers. And sure, the feelings between those two had been obvious — until last summer when they’d shown up hating each other. Personally, Zoya thought love and fate and all that sappy nonsense was utter bullshit. But she cared for Alina, too, so fine, she would help with this silly plan, even if she didn’t believe in it.

When they finally pulled it off a week later, however, Zoya couldn’t regret it more.

“Find somewhere else to sleep, I want the room to myself tonight!” Alina had barked as she stomped away from the activities shed, Mal grumbling off in the other direction.

“Wonderful,” Zoya deadpanned. “How long until she cools off?”

Genya bit her lip, shrugging. “I don’t know. I think we should give her the room tonight.”

“We should what?”

Nadia nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we can sneak into the boys cabin. I can probably con Mikhael out of his bed.”

“I’ll just sleep with David,” Genya agreed.

“And what about me?”

The two of them gave her quizzical looks. “You’ve shared Nikolai’s bed before, Zoya. I’m sure he won’t mind,” Nadia said.

They were right, of course.

The dynamic of her relationship had changed with Nikolai after the year her aunt died. She had spent the rest of the summer in bed most days, barely able to get herself dressed. Surprisingly, her texts with Nikolai had been the bright spots of her days.

The service at Keramzin was horrible, so he must have been sneaking into Botkin’s office — the one building with wifi on the grounds — to send her stupid photos and relay all the goings-on of the day. Lost tug of war, again he’d captioned a photo of himself covered in mud. Another day he wrote, Group is discussing Alina and Mal’s “ship name” which is apparently something people do for couples????? (which they still aren’t, btw) Idk, Genya and Nadia are pushing for “malina” which is just so lazy to me. Oretskov is much more sophisticated, and as a woman of taste, I think you’ll agree.

For the rest of that summer — no, for the rest of that year, most of her laughs and smiles had been brought on by Nikolai Lantsov, which was absolutely fucking mind-boggling.

nikolai: nazyalensky you will not BELIEVE

zoya: this better be something actually unbelievable, lantsov

Nikolai proceeded to send a video of his brother, Vasily, getting absolutely yeeted off of one of his prized horses with the caption “MERRY FUCKIN CHRISTMAS TO MEEEEEEE.” Zoya only responded with you are going to HELL, but she laughed so hard her stomach hurt, so she supposed she’d be joining him.

Zoya worked her ass off during her junior year to be able to afford Keramzin in the summer. It felt good to be back with her friends after the painful year she'd had since losing her aunt, and she had found herself being excited to see Nikolai most of all. Though nothing on the outside had changed — Nikolai was still a pompous rich boy and Zoya still took jabs at him at every opportunity — there was plenty changing under the surface.

A week before the start of holiday break during her senior year, Zoya's phone lit up with Nikolai’s stupid face. She had made his contact photo one she'd taken over the summer after Dubrov had smashed an egg over his head, yolk dripping down his face. Zoya had a policy of not answering unplanned FaceTime calls. But for whatever reason, she made an exception, answering with a scowl on her face so he at least understood the offense.

“What the hell are you FaceTiming me for, Lantsov?”

“Hello to you too, Nazyalensky.”

Nikolai looked to be in the treehouse in his backyard. When he had first called her from the place, she had laughed, because what eighteen year old still had a treehouse? Then he had showed her around the place. It was more workshop than treehouse, a number of little inventions and other products of his mind scattered around the wooden structure. Couldn’t you have found a room in your mansion for this stuff? she had asked. Nikolai had shrugged. “I like being outside. And away from everyone.”

“Only psychopaths FaceTime with no warning.”

“Noted,” Nikolai said, entirely unbothered. “Anyway, what are your holiday break plans?”

“I’m working and finalizing uni applications.”

“Can you . . . not do that?”

Zoya’s glare would send most people running, even given through a screen, but Nikolai only waited for an answer. “I need the money for Keramzin.”

“What if Keramzin was taken care of?”

“Why are you even asking?”

“Ah, right. I was hoping you would come on holiday with me.”

She laughed, because surely he must be joking. But his face was serious. “What?”

“My family is going to Bora Bora. Sort of a work thing for my father. Anyway, all the families are going, and I got my mother to agree to me taking a friend, so . . .”

“You’re seriously asking me to go to Bora Bora with you?”

“Uh, yes?”

Zoya shook her head. “I have to work. And do my uni shit. Why are you even asking me of all people? You have other friends.”

“None of them are as pretty as you, Nazyalensky.”

“You know flattery doesn’t work on me, Lantsov.”

Nikolai frowned, bringing the phone obnoxiously close to his face. “Please, please, please? I’ll go absolutely mental if I have to spend the whole week on my own with these privileged, white assholes.”

“Nikolai, you’re a privileged, white asshole.”

“Exactly! So you’ll come along then?”

“No.”

Naturally, Zoya went.

At first, she thought it might actually be a good decision, going with Nikolai. They sat next to each other on the plane ride there — in first fucking class — sharing Nikolai’s AirPods as they scrolled through stupid TikTok videos. It was strange, seeing him at this time of year when she had only ever seen him during the summer months. But it was nice, too.

And god, Bora fucking Bora! It was beautiful and warm and somewhere she never would have visited on her own. Certainly not staying at the fancy hotel that they were at, a stretch of the beach rented out for this company thing of his father’s. Privileged white asshole friends had their purposes, it seemed.

But she too quickly realized exactly why Nikolai had chosen her to come along.

She’d come back out from using the restroom on their second day there to find Nikolai standing with his father, another older man, and a girl that had to be around her and Nikolai’s age. Zoya had just decided to wait for him at their beachside table, having no desire to get caught up in whatever rich people things they were surely discussing, when she was waved over.

Had they not all turned to look at her, she might have ignored him. Instead, she put on her best friendly face as she joined the group.

“This is Zoya, my friend from camp.” As casually as if it were normal for them, Nikolai slung an arm around her. “We’ve been close for years now. Zoya, this is Rose, and her father, Ruslan.”

Rose glanced between the two of them, looking slightly disappointed. “Oh, I thought . . . Well, nice to meet you.”

Zoya smiled, seething on the inside. Nikolai’s father didn’t look too happy, either.

As soon as she got Nikolai alone, Zoya turned on him. “What the fuck was that, Lantsov?”

Nikolai sighed, “Look, Zoya—”

“You brought me here to what? Be the pretty thing on your arm?”

“No! I mean, that’s a benefit, yes. My father wants to set me up with that girl and I’m just not interested, so I thought—”

“So you thought, bring your poor camp friend! She’ll have to be grateful to live the rich life for a week!”

“That’s not it!”

Zoya shook her head. “To think I thought you actually wanted me here.”

“I do!” Nikolai stepped toward her, and damn the rocky wall at her back for not allowing her to move away from him. He took both of her wrists in his hands, just as he had that day in her cabin. But this felt different, intimate in a way that sent heat rushing through her. “I want you here, Zoya.”

Was he looking at her lips, or was she looking at his? Was he leaning in, or was she? The heat must be getting to her, because she didn’t let herself think the way she was thinking about him right now. Nikolai was cocky and spoiled and maybe she had allowed herself to begrudgingly become his friend, but this was something else entirely. Zoya couldn’t let him kiss her, so she didn’t, tugging out of his grasp and stalking down the beach. He didn’t follow, and she prided herself on being strong enough to resist his pretty hazel eyes and his stupid kissable looking lips.

Strong enough sober, anyway.

On their last night in Bora Bora, Zoya and Nikolai joined the rest of the kids on the trip, who indeed were privileged white assholes, for a boozy bonfire on the beach.

“So, your name is Zoya Nazzzalienski?” one of the boys slurred, screwing up her last name so badly she knew he wouldn’t have said it right sober, either.

“Nazyalensky,” she corrected sharply, too many drinks in to play nice.

“Mm, it’s a mouthful,” Rose, the girl Nikolai’s father apparently found ideal for him, said.

The other boy nodded. “So foreign.”

“She’s just as foreign as you or I, asshole,” Nikolai snapped.

Zoya was surprised to see actual anger on his face. Part of her wanted to punch him for playing the white savior, but another part was incredibly turned on by the way his eyes had darkened.

Vasily, who was as insufferable as Nikolai had described him throughout the years, laughed, disregarding the look on his brother’s face. “Aw, calm down, Niko. He didn’t mean anything bad about your little girlfriend.” Vasily covered his mouth in a mock whisper, “My brother has always had a thing for charity cases.”

Nikolai seethed beside her. “Watch your tongue before I remove it.”

“It’s okay, Nikolai,” Zoya said coolly, resting her hand on his arm. She needed no one to fight her battles for her. “I know your brother is still learning how to socialize with people, his usual company being those horses of his and all.”

The group cackled as Vasily flushed, but said nothing. Zoya stood, leaving them to their drunken bullshit. Nikolai followed.

Halfway down the beach, he stopped them. “Fuck, Zoya, I’m so sorry. I knew they were assholes but I didn’t think—”

Zoya cut him off with her lips.

“Oh,” he breathed when they pulled apart. It was the first time she had ever seen him speechless.

From there, they found their way to Nikolai’s room, stopping every now and then to continue their fervent kissing. The luxurious four poster bed became a mess as they sprawled onto it, working off their clothes, rattling the headboard well into the night. Zoya left Bora Bora with love bites on her neck and the best orgasm of her life.

After waking up sober with an ache between her legs the next morning, however, the first thing out of her mouth was, “It was just sex. It didn’t mean anything.”

Nikolai paused, then nodded. “It didn’t mean anything.”

So yes, Zoya had shared Nikolai’s bed before. Bora Bora had been the first, but not the last. They had spent last summer, their first as full on counselors — and therefore having the much nicer cabins that came with the position — fooling around whenever the flask came out. Drunken fuck buddies, that’s all they were. That’s all they were supposed to be.

But that was before the voicemail.

Zoya hadn’t told the girls about said voicemail, though, and apparently none of them had caught on to her and Nikolai subtly avoiding each other these past two weeks of their last year at Keramzin.

Before she could think of an excuse, the devil himself came around the corner.

Nikolai smoothly avoided eye contact with her. “Just passed Oretsev. Guessing the plan didn’t go over too well.”

Genya sighed. “Don’t you dare say I told you so,” she grumbled.

He held his hands up in defense. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Perfect timing, Nik,” Nadia said, and panic rose in Zoya’s chest. “Alina’s demanding the room to herself tonight, so we’re castaways.” She sang the last part in the tune of that god-awful song that was plastered all over TikTok. “And Zoya needs a bed. You don’t mind sharing, right?”

Nikolai’s perfect face flashed with his own panic for the briefest second, fast enough that she might have just imagined it, and then he broke into one of his charming smiles. “‘Course not.”

That was how Zoya found herself in Nikolai’s bed a few hours later, the damned thing too small for any real space between them. She knew they were sharing the same thoughts. He could offer to take the floor, but then their friends would know something was off. And when Mal ended up leaving his bed to go camp in the woods for the night, they let Mikhael, who had given up his bed to Nadia, jump into it. Both of them pretending they were fine, that they might get any sleep like this. Neither of them had spoken much tonight, let alone the last two weeks, besides casual greetings and Zoya’s usual snide remarks in group settings to keep up pretenses. Nothing of the suffocating weight that had been crushing their relationship since New Year’s Eve.

While most college freshmen she knew had spent the night getting wasted, Zoya had worked a double and was so exhausted, she hadn’t even made it to midnight before passing out. She had woken up to a missed call and a voicemail from a very drunk Nikolai.

“Hi Zoya, it’s Nikolai!” He paused to laugh. “Guess you know that. Happy New Year! I’m so drunk.” Another pause, the sound of the phone hitting the ground as he dropped it, muffled music somewhere in the distance. “Oops, dropped the phone. Fuck, I had a really shitty night. My father won’t stop getting on me about choosing a major already, but he can piss off, because he wants me to do business and follow in his footsteps, but god I’d rather jump off this mountain. Did I mention I’m on a mountain? Nothing crazy, just snow and skiing and rich people nonsense. Anyway.” Another pause, accompanied with a hiccup. “You’re probably wondering why I called and I don’t know I just — It’s New Years and my family is pissing me off and the people at this party suck and I just want to kiss you. That’s what you do on New Years, right? You kiss someone. But I didn’t kiss anyone, ‘cause you’re not here. And if you were here, it still wouldn’t be right, ‘cause I don’t want to kiss you like in Bora Bora or camp last summer. I want to kiss you and shout about it to the world. I want to kiss you because you’re mine. I want it to mean something. I want—”

Zoya never learned what else he wanted, because the messaging system cut him off. She had listened to that voicemail about a hundred times since then, still not knowing what the fuck to say or feel. Exactly two messages had passed between them the next morning, and not a single one since.

nikolai: sorry, ignore the vm. was rather plastered, haha

zoya: right, ok

Now she had her back pressed to his front as if nothing had happened. When Genya popped up, apparently unable to sleep either, and suggested they go check on Alina, Zoya thanked the damn saints.

That is, until they barged in only to find Mal standing in nothing but his boxers, constraining an insane erection (wow, he was bigger than she’d guessed) and Alina hiding under the covers, clearly naked. Zoya was going to kill them.

“You little liar!” she spat. “You conned us out of our beds so you could get dicked down?!”

Genya seemed thrilled at the turn of events, and maybe Zoya would be too, if she wasn’t spending her night pressed against the chest of the boy who had confessed to — to something and left her brain endlessly screaming about it since.

Her anger at Alina and anxiety about returning to Nikolai’s bed must have shown on her face as they left their cabin behind, because Genya stopped them before they could reach the boys’.

“All right, what’s going on with you?”

“Yeah, come on Zoya, you should be happy for them,” Nadia said. “I mean, the plan worked.”

“I know it did and I am happy for them!”

Genya raised a brow. “Yes, you sound so very happy.”

Zoya let out a frustrated huff, and right there in the middle of the night, she finally spilled about everything that had happened between her and Nikolai. They knew about the friends with benefits kind of situation they had going on last summer, but in addition to not telling them about the voicemail, she had never mentioned Bora Bora, either.

“What the fuck, Nazyalensky!” Nadia whisper-yelled when she finished.

“You’ve been keeping all of this in for two years?!”

Zoya shrugged. So Alina wasn’t the only one with a secret. She had never shared what had come between her and Oretsev in the first place, after all.

“I can’t believe he took you to Bora Bora,” Nadia moaned. “Missing out on Nikolai is now the only time I’ve regretted being a lesbian.”

Genya patted Nadia’s back in comfort, but said, “And y’all never talked about the voicemail? Seriously?”

Zoya groaned. “Can we please talk about this tomorrow? It’s like, one in the morning.”

They agreed, albeit whining as they did, and when they made it back into the boys’ cabin, Zoya climbed into Mikhael's bed with Nadia.

The next morning, the three of them kicked Mal out of their cabin bright and early.

“Seriously?” he groaned.

“Sorry, dude,” Nadia said. “Girl emergency.”

He and Alina shared a hesitant look before Mal dropped a careful kiss to her lips, as if he hadn’t been railing her a few hours ago, and left.

Alina watched him go, then turned to the three of them with a growl. “Okay, I know I lied, but you had to kick him out so early?”

“Surprisingly, this isn’t about you, though we will get back to that.” Genya sat cautiously on her bed, as if the bodily fluids might have jumped from Alina’s bed over to hers. “Zoya shared some very interesting news with us last night.”

With a sigh, Zoya relayed the story all over again. The next hour was just a lot of screaming about the free trip to Bora Bora and Nikolai’s — in Alina’s words — very obvious love confession, which resulted in the three of them telling her she was the last person allowed to speak on obvious love.

“This all comes down to two things,” Genya said as they got ready, since they still had campers to take care of today. “How do you feel about him, and what are you going to do about it?”

Both were valid questions, but Zoya scowled anyway.

In true Zoya fashion, she spent the next week thinking about her answer. Every time the girls bugged her about it, she glared until they shut up. But it was good that they knew, because they helped her avoid him when she needed to, not that Nikolai was making it hard. She supposed her ditching him for Nadia’s bed hadn’t been very encouraging.

When she finally came to a conclusion, Zoya switched shifts with Dubrov one afternoon so that she was working one on one with Nikolai. Considering the shift in question, Dubrov had been more than happy to trade places.

The spot Zoya and Nikolai had found themselves in was shitty, so there really was no better place to finally have it out with each other than the horse stables on mucking duty.

When she reached the stables, Nikolai was already at work.

“‘Bout time you got here, Dubrov,” he said without looking up. “I was going to bring some horse shit back to the cabin for you if you didn’t — Oh.” He had finally looked up. “You’re not Dubrov.”

“No,” she said. “Not Dubrov. I switched shifts with him.”

Nikolai blinked. “You took mucking duty on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“Zoya would-die-before-letting-a-horse-sniff-her Nazyalensky chose—”

“Yes,” she growled. “And if you don’t shut up, I’m going to push you into the shit you're scooping.”

Nikolai shut up after that, and minutes passed as they worked in silence.

Unsurprisingly, Nikolai was the first to break it. “Why are you here, Zoya?” he asked quietly, as if he was scared of the answer.

Zoya swallowed the lump in her throat. “We can’t keep going on like this. Pretending New Years didn’t happen.”

“No, I suppose we can’t.”

She cleared her throat. “Nikolai—”

But he cut her off. “Must we do this here? Break my heart, Nazyalensky. Just don’t do it while I’m standing in a pile of literal horse shit.”

Break my heart, Nazyalensky. But the problem wasn’t Nikolai’s heart, it was her own. Zoya had always had a problem with feeling too much, the good and the bad. Her complicated relationship with love only made it worse. She thought of her mother, who’s love Zoya had tried so hard to earn only to come up short again and again. Aunt Liliyana, who she had loved more than life itself, taken from her far too soon. The desolation she had felt afterwards, wondering if she could ever dare love someone again. She had no positive examples of romantic love in her life, either. Liliyana had always been single as far as Zoya knew. Her parents had divorced, and Zoya could only ever watch as her mother brought toxic and abusive men into their home again and again. She wasn’t sure she even believed in love, or if she deserved it.

But then she thought of the people here at Keramzin. Of Genya and David, a couple that made no logical sense, but her gorgeous friend looked at the genius boy as if he personally hung the stars in the sky. Nadia, writing her love letters to her girlfriend back home. Even Mal and Alina, as oblivious they had been, were so clearly in love they were sickening to look at. They were all young, so maybe none of them would make it in the end, but wasn’t love still worth something even if it didn’t last a lifetime? Could she have something like what her friends had?

I am Zoya Nazyalensky, and I am worthy.

Zoya stalked across the stables and pulled Nikolai — pompous, entitled, infuriating Nikolai — into a fierce kiss.

Once he got past his shock, Nikolai kissed her back with just as much force. The tension between them finally snapped now that she had made her decision. They didn’t need to talk about it, Nikolai just knew. He always knew. This kiss was the answer to the voicemail she had never given him. Nikolai had wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted it to mean something.

And Zoya wanted it, too.

“Fuck, Nazyalensky,” Nikolai breathed between kisses, taking her bottom lip between his teeth. Zoya hummed her approval. “If we hurry . . .”

She understood, so as hard as it was to pull away, she did. They worked as if their lives depended on cleaning out the stables as fast as humanly possible. Had they not been literally handling shit for the past twenty minutes, Zoya would have gone straight to Nikolai’s cabin. Instead, she went to her own, aware of each passing minute as she changed and washed up.

Zoya had only taken one step into the boys’ cabin five minutes later before Nikolai pounced. Closing the cabin door, he pushed Zoya against it and kissed her like a starving man. She moaned against his lips, the surprise and force of it sending heat straight to her core. Her hands found his golden hair, his hands found her ass, and though they had been here before, it felt different. Besides being completely sober, the difference was in the way they held each other, like they had no plans of letting go. It was the way they kissed, desperate and deep, but knowing there were so many more on the horizon.

Nikolai scooped her into his arms, bringing her to the bed. The lack of space was no issue now. His lips started their descent down her neck, and she knew from experience that her makeup routine would have an extra step for the rest of the summer.

“I don’t know how much time we have before the guys get back,” he murmured. Zoya nodded, ready to tell him he’d better hurry up and fuck her then, when Nikolai continued, “But I’m still going to take my time licking you until you scream.”

Oh.

Clothes were discarded, and Nikolai moved down her body, murmuring about how he couldn’t wait to mark every inch of her. Then he was between her thighs, and quickly made good on his promise. Zoya couldn’t believe his tongue could be this good at something other than talking about himself.

“Fuck me,” she groaned.

Nikolai popped his head up. “All in due time, darling.”

Growling, she pushed his head back down, and before she knew it, she was screaming into his pillow as her orgasm quite literally left her shaking.

Nikolai shifted, but before he could crawl back over her, Zoya used her weight to push him onto his back, taking her place on top. He still had his damned boxers on, so she quickly fixed that problem. His cock sprang free, and god, she could be drooling for all she knew. Never would she let him know that she mentally referred to his member as massive.

Needing to taste him, Zoya dipped her head and dragged her tongue up the length of him. Nikolai swore, then swore some more as she sucked him into her mouth. She would also never admit how much she loved sucking dick. There was something powerful about it that turned her on almost as much as it did the men she took into her mouth.

“Zoya,” Nikolai breathed, and she understood the warning in his tone. With a sigh, she let him fall from between her lips with an audible pop. Their limited time meant she’d have to wait until next time to let him spill inside her mouth. Shame.

Nikolai supplied a condom from his bedside drawer and Zoya rolled it onto him. Before he could get her on her back, she straddled him, making her intentions clear. He raised a brow, surprised, but didn’t object. Zoya braced one hand on the headboard, the other twining with one of Nikolai’s, and lowered herself onto his cock. They moaned in unison as she took in every inch of him.

Her rhythm started slow but quickly gained speed, her hips rolling and her breathing ragged as she brought herself down on him again and again. As she bounced, so did her tits, and Zoya didn’t miss the way Nikolai kept staring greedily at her chest. When looking wasn’t enough, he sat up as much as he needed to get his mouth on her breast, taking her nipple between his teeth and soothing the bite he gave it with his tongue afterwards. That damned tongue again. When Zoya tired, Nikolai was happy to take over even from underneath her, thrusting his hips against hers over and over.

It was perfect. It was glorious. Zoya was an idiot for waiting three weeks to figure out what she wanted. And she knew she wanted this — not just the fucking, but the exasperating boy beneath her, too. All of him. All of it. She had told Nadia that love was for suckers, and she supposed she should have known that included herself, considering how much she loved giving blowjobs.

It was perfect, until the cabin door opened and in walked Malyen Oretsev. He made it halfway inside before he caught sight of them on Nikolai’s bed and froze.

Nikolai groaned. “Malyen, does your timing always suck so much?”

Mal visibly swallowed, and Zoya realized he was making a concentrated effort not to look at her tits. Maybe she should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Smirking, she said, “Payback’s a bitch, Oretsev. Now scram and tell everyone else to stay gone for a while, too.”

He nodded, still avoiding even the smallest glance in her direction, and ran out the door faster than she thought him possible.

Nikolai sighed. “Did that ruin the mood for you?”

In answer, Zoya lifted herself until only the very tip of him was inside of her, then took all of him in one swoop. Their moans mingled once more.

Breathing hard, she asked, “What do you think?”

Nikolai moved so suddenly, Zoya didn’t have time to process it until she was flat on her stomach. Behind her, Nikolai slammed his full length into her so hard, so deep that she thought she might come from that one thrust alone. He leaned forward, letting most of his weight settle onto her, pinning her down. It was oddly comforting.

Lips beside her ear, Nikolai whispered, “I think that I’m never going to have enough of this. I’m never going to have enough of you, Zoya Nazyalensky.”

Her twelve year old self never would have believed it, but she didn’t think she’d ever have enough of Nikolai Lantsov, either.

One Year Later

It was the start of the summer holiday, and for the first time in seven years, Zoya wasn’t making her way to Keramzin. Instead, she was lazing on the sofa in the flat she shared with her arrogant, spoiled (and funny and smart and a bunch of other things she would never admit out loud), always infuriating boyfriend.

Said boyfriend strolled into the living room, handing a piece of mail to her. “Looks like the lovebirds made it to Russia safely.”

Zoya groaned as she read the postcard written in Alina’s neat handwriting, the only evidence of Mal being with her the sloppy signature next to hers. “They just got there and they’re already sending out postcards? Saps.”

“Absolute saps,” Nikolai agreed, lifting her legs to make room for himself beside her, letting her feet settle nicely on his lap.

After a stressful second year of university and having their first summer outside of Keramzin, they planned to do absolutely nothing all break long. Except they both had internships starting next week. Nikolai had settled on an engineering major, though he was still dabbling on what to do for his minor. Zoya was studying climate science and had an internship with the local news station’s weather team, though she had no intention of being the kind of meteorologist that reported the forecast for the masses each night. How dull.

Nikolai had given his father an ultimatum at the end of camp last summer. He would stay at the university his father had chosen for him if and only if he accepted his choice to pursue engineering — and let Zoya move into the flat. Otherwise, he was withdrawing and enrolling into Zoya’s uni, which was not exactly the first, or hundredth, choice of the wealthier class.

Surprisingly, his father had agreed, but the joke was on him. Nikolai was never going to switch universities, because Zoya was transferring to his. Not in the name of something as sappy as romance, but because it had an outstanding climate science program and — most importantly — her excellent grades and extracurricular activities had earned her quite the hefty scholarship.

But at least for this first week of the summer, they were staying in their flat, vegging out as they caught up on Netflix and fucking until their neighbors complained on NextDoor.

“Should we do pizza tonight?” he asked, gently rubbing the soles of her feet.

Before she could answer, her phone rhythmically buzzed on the table. A FaceTime call from Genya. When Zoya went to answer it, Nikolai frowned. “I thought you didn’t do unplanned FaceTime calls.”

“It’s Genya,” Zoya said, as if that explained everything.

The red haired girl’s face filled the screen, albeit a little grainy from the less than stellar reception at Keramzin. She could see David beside her, nose in a book as usual.

“Guess what!” she whisper-yelled, a grin on her pretty face.

“Botkin has finally admitted his past as a secret ninja assassin?” Nikolai piped up from beside her. Zoya scowled in his direction.

“Oh, hi Nikolai. And no. Look!” Genya flipped the camera, and two children came into view, a boy and a girl studying a piece of paper together. From the look of it, they were in the crafts room.

“I haven’t forgotten what twelve year old campers look like, Genya.”

She turned the camera back so Zoya could see her eye roll. “No, smart ass. It’s Alina’s map!” Genya whispered the last part, apparently not wanting the kids to hear her. “She must have left it for a camper to find. And I swear, these two are like Malina incarnate.”

“Oretskov,” Zoya and Nikolai said together.

Genya very casually flipped them off. “Anyway, I wish y’all could see them. Running off into the woods and all that shit they used to do. It’s uncanny.”

Zoya shook her head. “No thanks, living that storyline once was enough for me.”

Nikolai, always thinking of the important things, asked, “Hey, what’s our couple name?”

“Zoyalai,” said Genya and an off-screen Nadia in unison. The latter continued, “And don’t try to give us shit about it, because there’s no way you’re coming up with something better out of Nazyalensky and Lantsov.”

Nikolai frowned. “Nazyalsov? Lantensky?”

Zoya wrinkled her nose. “Okay, fine, you guys win this round.”

She couldn’t deny it. Zoyalai had a nice ring to it.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya x nikolai #zoyalai fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #fanfic #writing #zoyalai fic #posted this on ao3 a few days ago and forgot to post it here lmao #anyway if any of yall enjoyed the first part and are interested in a zoyalai part!!!#or if you're just here for the zoyalai lmao #can be read without reading part 1 but you'll understand some of the events more if you read part 1 #okay enough rambling pls enjoy xx

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writteninkat · 4 years ago

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ii - rubies?!

word count - 1,903

warnings - mention of scars

"he's so tall and handsome as hell. he's so bad but he does it so well."

index

As you waited for April to come around, you spent your remaining days working out and training your quirk on your own. You didn't want to look for your father nor did you want to bump into him- the only time you wanted to see him was during UA's sports festival where you know he'll be watching so you can rub it in his face how good your life is without him.

As you work out in your apartment building's gym, you can't keep the blond out of your head. Was he doing alright? Should you have asked for his phone number at least? Where did he study? Was he even from this area?

Your mind races and wanders around thoughts about the blond, causing you to trip on your own feet on the treadmill. Before your hands come in contact with the running deck, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, saving you from the fall but not from the embarrassment.

You take a few moments to stop and think about what just happened, allowing the whole thing to just sink in. I almost tripped because I was thinking about some guy. Stupid mistake.

Your savior puts you down beside the treadmill, hands immediately letting go of your waist. "You okay?" Despite having such buffed-up arms, he had such a sweet voice. You look to your right, checking to see the face of your knight in shining armor.

"My name's Izuku Midoriya." He smiles widely, extending his hand towards you. You take it, smiling back. "Y/n L/n, and yeah, I'm alright. Thanks for saving me, I could have attended my first day in UA with a bandage on my forehead." You chuckled, watching the guy's facial expression turn into excitement.

"No way! You'll be attending UA? That's crazy so am I!"

Your eyes widen, finally someone I can be close to in that new school. "What class are you in?" You move to turn off the treadmill, picking up your water bottle from the floor. You unscrew the cap, taking large sips as you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Class 1A."

The water backfires, going down the wrong pipe. You cough out the water, rubbing your chest in pain as Midoriya pats on your back in worry. "You okay? Again?"

You wave your hand at him, coughing a few more times before clearing your throat. "So am I." Your voice comes out rough and broken but still understandable.

For the rest of the day, you chat with Midoriya, getting to know each other as you helped each other work out. Like whenever you needed help with your form, he'd guide you. When he needed more weight on his back as he did push up, you were more than happy to sit on him as you scrolled through your cellphone.

As the end of the day, before the two of you part, he asks for your number so it would be easier to contact you. You kind of regret giving it to him cause he wouldn't shut up about the heroes he looked up to. He was such a hero nerd you found it funny.

When he calmed down and told you good night, you hit the sack yourself, images of the angry blond with beautiful ruby eyes filling your head as you fell asleep with a smile. And honestly, that was the best sleep you've had in years.

You're walking yourself to your new school, heart drumming against your chest. The feeling was a little too nostalgic, it was the same feeling you felt back when you came to UA for the practical exam. It felt like time went by a little too fast. You calm your mind, remembering your mom's text to you earlier that morning, telling you good luck with your first day.

You try recalling your goal- to become a hero despite my father telling me I couldn't. To become a hero, to become a hero to become-

"Hey Y/n!" Midoriya waves at you, his smile as bright as the sun. It's sickening but you shrug it off, it suits his face. "Oh, I hope it's alright if I call you Y/n."

"Only if I can call you Izuku." You wink at him, smiling as you continue your way towards the building. As Izuku rambled on about how nervous he was for today that he couldn't sleep properly, your mind raced back to the thought of the school uniform being uncomfortable.

You were so used to wear pants that showing off your legs seemed taboo to you. Don't get it wrong, you like your legs, you think they're okay. But you've been wearing pants maybe eighty percent of your life that you don't like showing even your knees. You can't sit the way you want with skirts- especially if the way you want is your legs either parted apart as you sink onto your chair or your legs on the desk as you scroll through your phone lazily.

Given that it was school rules to wear a uniform, you decided to cover up your legs with black thigh high instead, cursing at the skirt for being a little bit too short for your liking.

"Here it is." Izuku points up at the board right above the classroom door that read 1A. "I just hope I'm not classmates with Tenya or Kacchan." He chuckles, reaching for the door.

"Tenya? That glasses dude who seemed like someone pissed in his cheerios the morning of the exam?" Izuku nods his head but your mind wasn't at ease just yet. Who the hell was this Kacchan?

Your mind wanders again but your thoughts clear away when you hear two people arguing.

"Take your feet off that desk now." You chuckle, recognizing that voice. You mentally send a sorry to Izuku's way.

"Hah?" And that voice too!

You look up, scanning the room and looking for your two new classmates who were arguing. Iida's back covers who he's getting mad at, forcing you to step inside the classroom to get a better look.

"It's the first day and you're already disrespecting this academy by scuffing school property you cretin."

"You're kidding me right? Your old school put a stick in your ass?"

As you thought, that voice belonged to the same guy who's been infiltrating your head ever since you met him. Day and night. However his attitude caught you off guard, he wasn't this rude when the two of you met.

"Rubies?" You say out loud, the blond, or as Izuku calls him, Kacchan looks your way, eyes widening at the sight of you in the same classroom as him. His once smug expression is wiped off his face as he stares at you, completely taken off guard.

Tenya and a brown haird girl who looked a little too much like Kirby approached Izuku and they began talking to him. You, in the other hand, are being pulled out of the classroom by the blond. His hand still as soft as you remember, his grip isn't even that tight around your wrist. Just enough to tug you to where he wanted to bring you without hurting you.

The two of you stand right outside the door leading to the back of the classroom. He turns around, smug expression completely gone and replaced by confusion.

"You never told me you went to UA." He says, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he leans his side on the wall. You cross your arms on your chest, leaning to the side as you rest most of your weight on one leg. "You never asked." The two of you look at each other in silence for a few moments, your heart going haywire in your chest as he keeps his eyes on you. Such eyes that could keep you in a cage of trance forever.

Bakugou opens his mouth but before he could get a word out, a tired voice cuts him off. "Get inside the classroom." He tired-looking man with unkept hair and peach fuzz tells you both. Was he the school janitor? Nevertheless, the both of you walked back inside the classroom, Bakugou's eyes silently telling you that the two of you were going to finish the conversation later.

You sat down on your seat, eyes following the same tired-looking man as he stood in front of the class. "My name is Shota Aizawa. I'll be your homeroom teacher from now on."

He hands all of you your PE uniforms, telling you all to quickly change into them. You follow the girls to the changing rooms and you hang your PE uniform on your locker, already unbuttoning your uniform but you stop yourself.

I can't show them that.

A girl with long black hair, similar to yours, looks at you from the side, her expression questioning. "I don't think Aizawa sensei is okay with late students. You should quickly change."

You wrap your hands around yourself, cringing at the thought of other eyes on your body. The girl's expression changes into a softer one and she smiles, "Don't worry, nobody here will judge. All bodies are beautiful the way they are."

Exactly, yeah. If these girls were going to be your second family until you graduate highschool, you shouldn't be afraid. You can trust them, right?

Slowly, with slightly trembling hands, you begin unbuttoning your uniform. Taking a deep breath in, you slip your long sleeve down your body, showcasing the many scars that littered all over your back.

You can feel the atmosphere change into a silent, much colder one and your thoughts begin to race. Was it wrong for you to show them this? You've only been together for a few hours, how could you show such a vulnerable side of yourself?

Your eyes squeeze shut, ready for the comments and snickers but instead you hear a squeal. "We have the same bra!" A pink girl squeals, pointing at her pink lacy bra. A smile creeps onto your face as the girl extends her hand towards you, "I'm Mina Ashido. Nice to meet you, twinnie!" She perks and as soon as you take her hand, she shakes it softly before pulling away.

You quickly dress up into your PE uniform, pulling your hair up into a ponytail. "Woah, L/n! The white streaks on your hair look so cool! Where did you get them done?" Mina asks, completely taken by your hair, her eyes sparkling as you flushed at her compliment. No one has ever complimented your hair so genuinely like that before, makes you feel kind of proud having it.

"It's actually natural. My dad has black hair and my mom has white." The girls begin to ooooh and soon after, you all have reached the fields. Aizawa stands beside a white square with a device in his hand, patiently waiting with lazy eyes on his students.

"You should put your hair up like that more. I think the white streaks are cool." Bakugou tells you, his eyes and face forward as he listens to Aizawa talking.

You wouldn't tell him, but his words had your stomach feeling weird things and you feel your face slowly heat up. You swallow whatever you were feeling and face forward.

"Don't tell me what to do, rubies."

You had to buy more ponytails.

#bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #mha bakugou #bakugou bios #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bnha imagines

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years ago

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hii :) can i request shoto with either a college au or fake dating au with the prompt “kiss me again” FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF (nfsw if it flows and ONLY if you want) please

thank you for the request! i always forget how much i like writing todoroki. im sorry but i don’t do nsfw but please take my offering of a kissing scene haha

↳ todoroki shoto x reader → ❝all-nighter❞

event: au!prompts summary: you never expected to become friends with shoto todoroki but when you need to share a book for a project due in the morning you end up bonding. word count: 1,939 tags/warnings: fluff, incident with a creepy guy at a party, comfort, first kiss a/n: i don’t know what college is like bear with me. thanks to @lilli-chae for the college insight. also im giving myself a reward for writing and posting before ten at night lol

Todoroki Shoto was the last person you ever expected to befriend. He was a rich boy from a rich family and those were people you usually tried to steer clear of. He was always silent, if someone asked you what he sounded like you wouldn’t be able to answer them. And he always stared, it wasn’t in a creepy way like some guys but it still unsettled you. You had a few classes with him but had only heard a few words from him.

The first time you ran into him he was lost on campus. It was oddly endearing, the sight of him standing there looking around confused. You asked him where he was going and it happened to be the same class as you. He hadn’t said much except for a ‘thank you’ once you reached the class.

It wasn’t until one night at the library that you started to see him differently. You had a project due the next day. Had you received it weeks ago? Yes, but in your defense, you had a lot of other projects. Okay, maybe you had procrastinated too much. It was late and you needed a specific textbook for the assignment. With your ice coffee in hand, you made your way to the library ready to pull an all-nighter.

As you reached for the book you were already so exhausted you hadn’t realized that someone else was reaching for it at the same time.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You said looking up only to see Todoroki.

“Sorry.” He said, looking sheepish.

“I’ll grab another copy-” As you looked at the shelf you realized there was only one. “Oh.”

“My project is due tomorrow, otherwise I would offer to use it after you.” He said.

“Mine too.” You said. “We could share it if you don’t mind.”

“That seems like the best option.” He agreed.

The two of you set up at a table big enough for both of you to spread out. It turns out you had the same topic for the same class.

“So do you procrastinate a lot too?” You said trying to break the ice with some humor.

“Not normally.” He said but didn’t elaborate.

“I wish I could say the same but this happens to me more than I’d like to admit.” You said. “You can use it first, I have to get it started before I need the information.”

Shoto nodded and took the book before getting to work.

It was surprising how likable Shoto was once he opened up. He was a bit stiff and awkward but he was really funny and very considerate. You felt bad judging him on his family status. He was nothing like the rich brats you had encountered in the past.

The two of you would take breaks, you would offer him snacks, and most likely due to the sleep exhaustion, you shared a lot of personal stories. His family was something else. The more you got to know him all the pieces of who he was fit together.

The last thing you expected was to wake up with your head on his shoulder in the library the next morning.

“Shoto.” You said nudging him awake. You looked at your phone, you had less than ten minutes to get to class for your presentations. “Wake up we have to hurry.” You said.

Shoto’s different colored eyes opened and looked at you in confusion before he realizes where he was.

The two of you quickly scrambled to pick up all of your stuff and run to class. Thankfully everything had been pretty much done before you fell asleep but you were upset you wouldn’t be able to grab a coffee to wake you up before class.

Since that night you considered Shoto a friend. You would study together sometimes and grab a coffee or lunch between classes. You found yourself confiding in him and he did the same with you.

“When did you and our school’s prettiest boy become best friends?” Your friend Mina asked.

“I think best friend is a bit strong, we just barely started hanging out.” You said.

“Well, best friend was me going easy on the teasing. The real question is when did you capture his icy heart?” Mina teased.

“Wow, okay. There has been no capturing of icy hearts.” You defended as your face heated up. Sure, Shoto was handsome and you liked his personality a lot but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him and you knew there was no way he would have a crush on you.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She questioned.

“Yeah, he looks at me like he does everyone else.” You said.

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself,” Mina said throwing her hands up.

“It is what I’ll be telling myself.”

You did your best to push Mina’s words away but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to sneak glances at the way Shoto looked at you. Was his gaze softer when he looked at you? It had to just be your mind making it up.

It was a Friday night and that meant parties. Normally you were more of a stay at home and play video games and eat snacks kind of person but your friends wanted to go out and it had been a while so you agreed.

You ended up at a party on campus, it felt like almost everyone from school was there. You found yourself looking for one person in particular but you couldn’t spot him. Your heart sank a little bit, one of your motivations for going out was the hope that you would see Shoto.

You hadn’t meant to drink that much, you really didn’t have that many drinks but your tolerance wasn’t the greatest. You were having a good time, dancing with your friends. That was until some guy grabbed at you. Instinctually you hit him across the face gaining most people’s attention.

“Did he touch you?” A familiar voice said, your classmate Bakugou stood at your side in an instant with an intimidating glare. He was a bit over the top but underneath it all, he was a nice guy. Mina hung out with his group a lot and you had tagged along at times.

“Yeah.” You nodded. You didn’t have to say another word before Bakugou was dragging him out of the party, his friends Kirishima, Denki, and Sero following along. Mina rushed to your side pulling you out of the party in the opposite direction.

“Are you good?” She asked.

It was nice, the cool air of the night. Your head had been spinning but the ordeal had sobered you up a lot.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You told her.

“What happened?” A concerned voice interrupted. Shoto approached with concern on his face.

Mina explained what had happened and you saw an anger in Shoto you hadn’t seen before. He moved to the direction he assumed Bakugou had taken the man but you grabbed his arm.

“Can you get me out of here?” You asked him. You didn’t want him getting involved, this had been bad enough. You just wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Of course.” He said before looking to Mina. She nodded and Shoto placed his had between your shoulder blades and guided you away. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” You answered.

The two of you ended up in a 24/7 diner not too far away. Sitting down in a booth under the fluorescent lights you already felt better just being in Shoto’s presence.

It was quiet. You ordered water and chicken strips. You weren’t sure what to say, you didn’t want to talk about what had happened and Shoto seemed upset.

“I should have been there sooner.” He finally said. “My father called me, held me up.”

Was he blaming himself for not being there?

“Shoto, it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. I’m just happy that I got to see you tonight and to be honest hanging out here is a lot better than at that loud house.”

Shoto sighed but his expression softened.

“I’m glad I’m getting to spend time with you too.” He said.

After that the mood was more relaxed, you talked about different things and laughed at Shoto’s jokes. Once you were done eating Shoto paid for your food, refusing to let you do so before he walked you back to the dorm you shared with Mina.

“Do you want to stay for a bit?” You asked.

“Aren’t you tired?” He asked.

“I don’t want to be alone.” You admitted quietly.

Shoto walked in without a word. You sat on your bed opening up your laptop putting on something to watch before placing it on the table beside your bed. Shoto hesitantly joined you, sitting beside you leaving some space.

In retrospect you probably had a little leftover liquid courage from your drinks earlier when you scooted over closer to him, your leg pressed against his. Or maybe you just needed the comfort of having someone you trust close.

It was nice. The sound of Shoto’s soft breathes, the warmth that came from him, the way his arm brushed against yours. It was all comforting and helped the tenseness in your body melt away.

Before you could stop yourself you rested your head against his shoulder, you tensed for a moment waiting for a reaction but Shoto said nothing. A few moments later you were shocked when he took your hand in his softly. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking up at him. His soft gaze was already on you.

It felt unavoidable, unstoppable, the need to lean up and press your lips against his. At that moment you didn’t think of any consequences the action could have. It just felt right. Shoto didn’t pull back, rather he leaned forward meeting you halfway. His right hand cupped your cheek, you felt so small in his grip. His left hand moved to your waist pulling you closer.

After a moment you pulled back to take a breath.

“Kiss me again,” Shoto said. You smiled at him and leaned in again. You adjusted yourself so you could wrap your arms around him, holding him close. It felt unreal. How could things change so quickly in one moment? In one second Shoto was your friend who you may or may not have a crush on and in the next you were kissing him wondering how you could ever lie to yourself.

How could you not like Shoto? He was so good to you, so interesting in every way. Every day your thoughts drifted to him whether you tried to stop them or not. You couldn’t get him out of your head. When you saw a cute dog you thought ‘I bet Shoto would like to see this dog.’ When you ate at a new place you thought ‘I think Shoto would like the food here.’

How had you convinced yourself you didn’t like him?

“I really like you.” You said pulling back again but keeping your hold on each other.

“I really like you too.” He whispered against your lips, looking deeply into your eyes. “Go on a date with me. Please.”

“How can I say no?” You smiled before kissing him again.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Mina’s voice filled your dorm room as the door opened. You and Shoto froze as Mina stared. “Nevermind, looks like you’re doing great.” She said before shutting the door and leaving.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of it from her.” You sighed.

#todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto #my writing #au prompts #atruebalance #sfw

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seodami · 3 years ago

Text

Dearest treasure | KTH

Summary: Every kid in town was afraid of Kang Taehyun, the old -slightly creepy- man living alone for years and years in the same run down house. Every night he would go into his backyard with a shovel and dig a hole into the earth. No one knows why and there are kids rumouring about him burying people. Jungwon was a bright kid, wanting to find out the truth behind this widely spread rumour for a school project. And what he found out would change his life forever.

Genre: fluff, angst, flashbacks, story of life, snippets of life, tiny bit humour

Warning: old Taehyun, mention of death, mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, death

Word count: 10152 (all 3 parts together)

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader, (Yang Jungwon)

Note: Wow okay so this story took me a while to write and I listened to hours of das music to finish this🥺 this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it’s finally finished so I can post it on here yayyy!!! I hope you like it an enjoooyy (please tell me if you cried I would really appreciate your responses haha bc I did)

Main Masterlist

2089 (present)

Jungwon took a glance down towards the camera clasped tightly in the palm of his hand. With a heavy breath, his eyes slowly moved up to the big house in front of him. Former white paint - now a dirty grey almost everywhere - was already peeling itself from the walls, dozens of thick ivy tendrils sneaking up to the dirty windows and even further. It looked just like the old spooky houses, Jungwon had secretly seen in horror movies his parents were watching. And it especially felt like it as well.

The cold wind was slowly whirling around the dead leaves on the ground, freeing the view to numerous mounds of earth spreading over the whole front yard and probably even backyard. Some were fresher than the others. Some were older than the others.

Jungwon could feel a wave of goosebumps hushing over his body, clearly not only being the cold winds fault. With one last reassuring nod to himself, he courageously made its way over the small path through the chaotic front yard towards the old wooden front door.

It had terrified him when he was a bit younger to even lay eyes on this house, let alone go any near it, and quite truthfully, Jungwon still felt a tiny wave of fear coming through. He had heard many things around this neighbourhood and school...creepy theories as to why the old man living inside this house was seen digging holes in his garden. From murder to even paranormal activities, everything was possible, referring one of the older kids at school, Park Jongseong, who tended to love scaring innocent young students with these stories. And he even heard parents trying to discipline their children, threatening them to pay ‘Killer Kang’ - that was the old man’s unfortunate nickname - a small visit if they did not behave. It was as if this small town didn’t have anything else to talk about than a lonely, slightly creepy, man. And if he remembered correctly, he never saw or heard anyone even trying to talk to him. So what did they know?

Jungwon heard a lot. To say the least, he questioned himself quietly if he should have just chosen another topic for his video and interview for a school project. He could have. But something deep down told him quietly not to judge too quickly, not to judge a book only by it’s cover. His parents and his grandmother taught him that early on and it stayed with him ever since. He wanted to give this poor scrutinised man a chance to actually explain himself. Why was he always digging these holes into the ground? Maybe he really was a serial killer and this would be Jungwons biggest mistake, but where’s the fun in not even trying? Right? He could only lose, well...his life...

The 14 year old boy quickly shook his head, trying to stay positive. And then he finally pressed the rusty bell on the side of the door. He heard nothing at first, it was as quiet as it could get, no steps, no talking, no TV. The eerie feeling hanging in the air didn’t make it any better for Jungwon to stay calm and not giddy. “You can do this! He’s not even creepy.” He tried to hype himself up.

He almost wanted to ring again, as his heart sunk. Damp slow steps were coming closer and closer, making him hold his breath unconsciously. The door opened in an awful slow motion, revealing the old man everyone was afraid of. White hair framed his sunken in face full of deep wrinkles. He used a walking stick to stand, his position was crouched forward, so he was about the same height as him, maybe even a bit smaller. And when Jungwon met his eyes, there was a glint in them, that almost scared him off like all the other kids would have. But he stayed put.

The man didn’t say anything, just stared at him, awaiting him to explain this very unusual visit. Nobody had ever dared to ring his house. Not even the mailman thought of doing so.

“Good Morning Mr Kang. Uhm ...I am Yang Jungwon.” The young boy began with slightly unstable voice, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am a student at Namgang Highschool and we are currently doing individual video projects containing an interview with someone we find fascinating and want to learn more about. And...I was wondering if...if maybe it would be possible to...interview you?” Jungwon managed to squeak out, hiding his trembling hands from Mr. Kangs boring hawk eyes.

He still hadn’t said anything, looking up and down the underaged student. Then his eyes met his shaky ones again. “Is this a joke again, boy? Because I have no tolerance for silly boy pranks.” He finally muttered out in a harsh tone, letting Jungwon flinch the slightest. He quickly shook his head, implying that this was his last wish to do.

“No sir, no I swear this is a very serious question and project. I wouldn’t dare to do anything but.” The boy rambled, now fiddling nervously with the hem of his uniform jacket. The man pulled his glasses somewhat higher on his nose before he gave the student a hesitant nod.

“You are the first person for years daring to come talk to me...” he noted absent minded, eyes wandering behind the boy to check if there really weren’t any stupid kids hiding inside the bushes. “How...extraordinary.” He muttered, clinging onto his walking stick as he began turning around.

“You said fascinating people, boy? I have to disappoint you, there is nothing interesting about me, I dare say.” A small sigh left his mouth, beginning to close his door slowly but Jungwon was quicker. What had gotten into him? Was it the surprise at his not so cold attire or maybe has he just gone crazy? But Jungwon wanted to know more about his story. There had to be more.

“Sir, no please. You may think so but quite frankly you are the talk of town every day.” Jungwon began but got stopped hearing the other one scoffing displeased. “Killer Kang...I know this nickname they all give me. Do you use it too? I don’t want to have anything to do with people like this.” His tone got harsher again.

Jungwon frantically shook his head again. “I don’t. I would never. This is the reason why I chose to interview you in the first place. I want to hear your part about everything. I think it is only fair to give you a proper chance to explain. They just don’t know.” He gave the man a pleading look. Mr. Kang hesitated again, letting the boys words sink in. He didn’t seem like he could harm a fly, he thought. Was is worth the struggle?

He didn’t know what or why he was doing it but the next thing Jungwon saw was him walking slowly into the house again, leaving the door open. Should he follow? A quick look over his shoulder told him he should. Jungwon couldn’t believe he really meant it so he still stood unsure, fiddling with the silver camera in his hands, metal cooling against his sweaty palms. “Are you coming, or what?” The now softer voice of the white haired man asked still trotting forward in a steady pace.

This woke Jungwon immediately out of his trance, stumbling clumsily stuttering and rambling while thanking him over and over again. He had made it.

He entered the dark hallway, suddenly being hit with a strong smell of a typical musty grandparents house. It remembered him of his own grandmother’s one, where he spent almost half of his childhood. With one swift movement, he gently shut the door and followed the tracks of this houses owner without forgetting to put his shoes off. There were some stacks of newspaper laying around randomly, old picture frames hanging on some of the white and dark green walls and old brown rugs adorning the cold floor. He noticed a small picture of a young lady in a baby blue dress, sitting on a self built swing while smiling ear to ear. But he quickly moved on. It was as every other old people’s home, Jungwon thought.

“Boy, say, do you want a cup of tea? Or water?” The young student heard the now calm voice asking him, seeing as they arrived in the living room. An antique looking glass chandelier was hanging right in the middle, brown couches placed generously inside the big room. Jungwon was surprised. He expected to shake with pure fear in his veins, but why did it feel like he was just visiting his grandparents? A friendly visit. That was the first moment he knew he misjudged the famously feared old man.

“No thank you. I was wondering if I could maybe...film the whole thing? The interview? I prepared some questions already if that is fine with you.” Jungwon timidly pulled out the camera behind his back and soon enough some pieces of paper. There was a moment of silence, Mr. Kang just looking speechlessly at the innocent and oh so polite brown haired boy. His heart already told him, despite his inner conflicts, that he was a nice boy. A really well-behaved kid. He could tell him, he could understand, and maybe even help. At least that was his hope.

“You are really something else. Jungho was your name?” With small steps he wandered to one of the couches, plopping down painfully slow with a nasty crack of his bones into an already deep hollow on the couch. Just like his grandparents. Jungwon by now was really overwhelmed by the mans compliance and...kindness?

“It’s Jungwon, Mr. Kang.” He added, earning an understanding nod from his side, followed by a motion of his hand for him to sit down. “Of course, of course. You can set up the camera on the table if you have to. It was a long time ago since...anyone filmed me.”

It didn’t took long for the eager student to put his camera on the table in a good angle. His script was already sprawled all across his lap and with nervous looks in between, he asked the man if he was ready to begin the interview. Jungwon was aching to know the truth behind the misunderstood lonely person in front of him. He finally wanted to clear the unpleasant rumours about him, wanting to know what really was behind his actions.

“Ready, boy.”

Jungwon clicked the red recording button on his camera, sitting down on the couch behind it. And he did not waste any time to start.

“My first question for you Mr Kang, has to do with your widely spreaded nickname. As you told me earlier, you were already aware of such name. What do you think about it?”

It was the second time, he heard him scoff in annoyance. “It’s ridiculous what people tend to gossip behind someone’s back when they are bored. Whoever believes these ignorant, mindless comments should go to school again and get educated. This nickname... ‘Killer Kang’ -“ he stopped to caugh out loudly, repositioning himself more comfortable in his seat before continuing to talk. “ - holds absolute no truth in it. I can’t seem to think why somebody even invented it.”

Jungwon immediately nodded in agreement, earning a small nod from the man himself. “That was exactly my point. It looked almost like people just invented some crazy untrue theories when they cannot seem to understand a certain...action.” He tried to find the right words. “It’s probably nothing new to hear, but people around this town, I think they came up with this name solely to...to find an explanation as to why...the holes...I mean you digging them with a shovel in your garden...is that...” he lost his voice in the end of his sentence, not wanting to say any wrong words.

But Mr. Kang just nodded, looking out of the window with a distant look. He suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s probably not the answer you or all the people would like to hear. All the foolish theories. It’s something far more...simple.” He looked over to Jungwon, soft eyes under the thick crease above them. He was ready to tell someone. Just anyone. He longed for a conversation for too long, maybe that is why he agreed in the first place.

He was so lonely.

“Let me tell you my story right from the beginning. I hope you do have some time, boy, it might be a longer story.”

And then he began to tell his story. Your story.

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thesleepy1 · 4 years ago

Text

Rain's Quite A Lovely Thing

A/N: Sorry for no fics for so long. I was just not in the mood. Really not in the mood for anything. Though, at the very least, I wrote this at a reasonable time. That’s one bright side, I guess. Unnbeta’d as always. And this was requested by a friend. I really hope they like it.

Pairings: Arthur x Merlin

Summary: Arthur had been trying to court Merlin for ages but the man just didn’t seem to be able to take a hint.

Word count: 1,238

Part 2

Part 3

Warnings: no warnings

The great king is only as good as his court. Arthur was the greatest of his time for one reason and one reason only. For he had Merlin by his side. The great wizard himself, who could make the sky turn green and the world tilt off its axis. The most incredible magic user to exist, to ever exist and ever will.

However, no matter how great a man Merlin was, he was still undoubtedly a fool. The biggest idiot to ever walk the world. Here be dragons was a lie, here be Merlin’s intelligence made more sense. Arthur had been trying to court him for the past year and all he got from the brunette was, “Aren’t you betrothal, sire?”

He was not. And frankly, never will be. Women, queens, and princesses, even common ladies were the farthest from his interest. Not to say they were bad in any way. No. Never, he would never think of such a thing. Arthur loved the woman in his life dearly. It was just that men had always been the one to peak his interest. Merlin especially.

When he had first realized he had fallen for his servant, he was ready to leap off from a castle turret. Merlin, off all people. He could just not believe that that man could have possibly won his heart. Off all the men in his life, it just had to be his Merlin. Not his Merlin, per say-

Arthur only meant he would be happy if he had fallen head over heels for one of his knights. Now they were worth his affections. They were strong, loyal, compassionate, and most importantly, they made his heart skip a beat with just one look. Though, if he had to be honest with himself, Merlin took his breath away.

Dear god, Arthur was in, in love with Merlin.

How would he ever meet his servant’s eyes again? How was he supposed to court the man for over a year just to have him meet his eyes and say, “Aren’t you betrothal, sire?” Like that would matter. Like Arthur would care about something as mundane as an arranged marriage when Merlin could build cities with a flick of his hand. His possible arranged marriages be damned, Arthur wanted Merlin’s affections and Merlin’s affections only.

The only question was how.

Arthur had done everything. For months! And yet, Merlin was still not taking the bait and spending the rest of his life with Arthur. What did he have to do to win Merlin over before it was too late? What did he need to do? Slay a dragon? Protect his city? Venture off on an elaborate quest to find some dumb item that only he could find? At this point the king was ready to do anything at the top of a hat.

“Have you actually told him, you liked him?”

“Of course, I ha-”

He had not.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled to his servant the very next morning when he came in to tend to the king.

“Has the cat finally returned your tongue, sire?” Merlin greeted with a slight grin to his lips. Not that Arthur had been staring at his lips.

“I would hardly call myself quiet, Merlin.”

Merlin walked over to his bedside, laying a new set of clothes over a chair. His hands expertly moved so as to not leave a single wrinkle to his clothes. Now Arthur was staring. He couldn’t help but notice how much care Merlin took with everything he did. Except properly walking that is.

“At least you’re aware.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing you and your silent nature need to worry about,” Merlin grinned at him.

“You can’t make fun of me, Merlin. I’m a king,” Arthur replied without the usual bite.

The man must have noticed by some sort of magic because he turned to face Arthur. Arthur will never get used to the look he gave him. “Are you running a fever, sire?”

“A fever- Of course I’m not running a fever, Merlin. What’s gotten into you? Thinking I had a fever.” Merlin didn’t look convinced, leaning forward and laying a cool hand onto his forehead. Arthur could practically feel himself heat up at the brief contact that was for purely medical reasons. He was going insane.

“You’re quite warm. I better have Gaius make you some medicine,” Merlin went on, retracting his gentle hand from Arthur’s face. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.” He turned to leave.

“Merlin wait-” Before Arthur knew it he had Merlin’s arm in his hand. When did Merlin become so muscular? Perhaps lugging around Arthur’s equipment had something to do with that.

“For what, sire?” Merlin looked down to the hand on his arm. He almost seemed annoyed at this for whatever reason. “Do you want me to undress you to your bare bottom as well?” the wizard asked, blunt as the day he was born.

Arthur blushed at that, his face heating up farther. “N-no,” even he sounded unsure to his own ears. “I just want you to stay with me….” he trailed off, thinking of some sort of excuse. “Until my fever lessens of course. Camelot needs a king and if he dies of a sickness, then it would be on you, Merlin.” Arthur nodded to himself. “It's best if you stay here…. With me.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, as if knowingly. “Yes, sire. Whatever you wish.” His eyes then glanced back down to Arthur’s hand. Instantly the king removed his hand as if Merlin’s skin had burned him. Though, Arthur would give just about anything to be burned by Merlin’s touch. The kingdom be damned.

“Do you want me in your bed as well?” That certainly caught Arthur’s attention.

“Wh-what?!”

“Do you want more blankets, sire? You still look feverish,” Merlin explained in a calculating manner, peering down on Arthur.

“Uh- Yes…. That would be nice,” Arthur regained his composure, “Though you should have already brought them over.” Arthur shuffled back into his bed, tugging Merlin by the sleeve alone with him. “Really, Merlin, do I have to tell you how to do everything?” He indicated with his eyes towards the pillows supporting his back.

With a sigh Merlin fluffed them. “May I go back to my other duties?”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind.” Another eye roll. “Stay.” Arthur patted the space next to him on his bed. “I want to have a word or two with you.”

Merlin sat down comfortably next to Arthur, his arm outstretched to stabilize himself. He was awfully close to Arthur. He did not mind this. “What would you like to talk about?” This was said with a softer tone, as if Merlin was worried about Arthur.

“I-” The king’s heart skipped a beat. All the air left his lungs. “I love….”

“You love?”

“I love the rain! That’s how I got sick. You know this, Merlin. I just rained yesterday,” Arthur laughed forcibly. “My knights and I were training from sunrise to sunset. It would make sense that I eventually got sick. As much as I act invincible, I’m only human.”

Merlin watched his forced expressions with interest. A number of emotions flashed across his eyes, but the one that stood out the most to Arthur was what seemed like disappointment. What could Merlin possibly be disappointed about? Arthur was the one who failed his confession.

“You are only human, sire.”

#no warnings apply #no warning at all #no warning whatsoever #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #fandom #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #gaius #bbc arthur #king arthur #merlin x arthur #bbc merthur #bbc merlin

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murderousginger · 4 years ago

Text

Demons & Angels

Warnings: Menton of drug use. Smutty sexy things. They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 2211

Song here

(gif by @nofckingfighting)

You worked yourself up all afternoon to show up at his door. You'd had enough of Tommy Shelby and his attitude. You were sick of him brushing off your ideas, keeping you in the dark except for your small part in whatever plan he had. You were tired of hunting him down to speak to him and his words always being so clipped with you. He kept you at a distance, careful to not touch you as if dealing with a leper.

He might be the devil of Small Heath but you thought you had been friends well enough for him to spare you a look, a thought, a smirk. Something. And so you were on his doorstep that night, late enough to ensure he was home, knocking so rapidly that you almost knocked Finn in the head when he cracked the door open. Your anger waffled as Finn looked at you.

"Oh, sorry Finn," you say as you look to your feet.

"Why are you knocking like a copper this late, (Y/N)?" He asks, wide-eyed. "Arthur was 'bout ready to blow the door out."

"Sorry, I just wanted to talk to Tommy," you say, looking anywhere but at the child in front of you. "Is he home? Can I speak with him?"

A large hand grips the door above Finn's head and pulls the door wider. Arthur sticks his head out, scowling.

"Fuckin' hell, (Y/N)," he barks. "Why are you here at this hour? I nearly blew your head off. Come in, come in."

They both retreat and you come in, closing the door behind you. Finn is dressed for bed already and Arthur is half dressed, his shirt half buttoned, as if he was just about to sink into sleep himself.

"I came to talk to Tom," you say, regaining your conviction.

"At this hour?" Arthur squints. "He doesn't know you're coming, does he?"

You shake your head as you clasp your hands together.

"No, but-"

"This can't wait till mornin'?" He scratches the back of his head. "It's late, love, and I'm sure any business--"

"It's not business and I'm not leaving without talking to Tommy," you raise your voice a little, panic lacing through your tone as you realize you might not be allowed to see him. You'll lose steam by morning, unable to meet his eyes and tell him how you feel.

Arthur nods, his head down as he pauses before he looks back to meet your eyes, his voice calmer, softer.

"Right then," he nods to Finn, "you, off to bed. Now."

Finn does as he's told, eyes wide.

"Right," Arthur clears his throat. "Right. Well. Something I need to tell you first, right, is that Tom's…"

He trails off, his hand waving as if to catch words in the air to fill his mouth.

"Tom's not himself right now," he says finally, meeting your eye as if to push the meaning into your head.

"Not himself?" You repeat, dropping your chin to your chest.

"Yuh," he said, nodding more vigorously as you catch his words. "He's more, y'know, calm… right now. He's had a bit of opium to sleep and he might not be in full form."

"Opium?" You frown. "Why's--"

"He takes it to sleep," Arthur says as he shuffles in place. "He don't talk about it much. I think you'd be alright."

He squints as he smooths his mustache down.

"A woman shouldn't set 'im off like I do," he mutters to himself. "Come'n, love, I'll show you his door."

Arthur walks to the stairs and goes up them before you find your feet and follow, more questions than answers from the interaction. You both stop at the first closed door at the top of the stairs, and Arthur points to it as he steps away from it.

"He's just there," he said, continuing his walk down the hall. "Wait 'til I'm out of sight, or I'll set him off, and we don't want fuckin' war flashbacks tonight, love."

Your eyes widened as your hand froze over the doorknob.

"Just be easy," Arthur said, his hands gesturing wildly. "It's all a bit of a dream to him right now."

Arthur disappeared into his room as you stared at the door, uncertainty tainting your anger. You were used to unaffected, strong, stubborn Tommy Shelby. Who would this man be behind the door?

You finally took a deep breath and turned the knob, moving into a room of heavy sour smoke. It tickled your nose as you looked at the mostly bare walls. The only furniture was a wooden chair, an end table, and the small bed that Tommy Shelby lay across as he contemplated the ceiling as if you weren't there.

You closed the door, fidgeting as you sank into the wooden chair.

"Tommy?" You call, hoping it would snap him out of whatever was happening.

He frowns as he turns to you, scrutinizing you before he looks back to the ceiling.

"That's new," he says to himself with a shrug. "I suppose she's been on my mind but it's not normal to conjure."

"Conjure?" You ask, lost in his words.

"I see spirits, love," he says. "Not the living. You can be off now."

His words brush you off like a maid and rekindles your resolve.

"Why have you been pushing me away?" You ask as you sit on his bed near his feet with your arm propping yourself up as you watch him. He took a deep breath.

"Do you think I tell people things?"

He stayed still, a picture of calm waters, as he laid on his bed with his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

"And I do?"

"You're telling me now."

"No," you sputter, "I'm asking a question."

"People don't ask questions about things they have no care for."

"Have you always been this obstinate, Tommy Shelby?" You shake your head as you look to the ceiling.

A heavy silence fills the room as you both stare above to the blank ceiling. You fall into your head, the dark corners that you retreat to when you can't quite grasp those around you, and you start to shuffle through the worst explanations to fill the silence. This was a terrible idea. I'm a fool.

"I am cursed," he said, breaking you from your thoughts. "Everything I touch gets tainted. Broken."

You soften as you look over, your mouth shut in fear a response would silence him. His face is pinched, his eyes searching above him, as if he can't find the words. There's never the right words.

"You fit," he said. "You don't flinch at the violence. You don't flinch at the business. You've never given me the look."

He stops, finally looking down to his feet to look over you, through you. His eyes cover your every curve and he gives a slight nod before he looks back up to the ceiling.

"The look?" You whisper, afraid that anything louder would stop him, take him out of whatever trance had him. Whatever the opium opened in his head.

"Disgust," he said. "Fear. Loathing. You've never stopped looking at me like I'm just a man."

"You've never been anything else to me, Tommy," you say as his face drops, his blue eyes melt over you like clear skies.

"I am to everyone else," he lowed.

"Should I be afraid of Thomas Shelby, Devil of Small Heath?" Your eyebrow quirked up involuntarily, taunt thick in the air.

He smiled at his epithet on your lips, the words rolling out of your mouth. They didn't have the usual feelings behind them that he had grown used to. You knew the answer before you asked and nothing would change your certainty.

"I think I'm in love with you."

He says it like he isn't there, like his words aren't really attached and settling into the world around him. It just tumbles out of his mouth without thought. He mulls the words over once they're in the air as if he hadn't actually considered it before that moment.

Your heart catches in your throat, expanding, exploding in your chest. He looks down to you, mouth slightly parted as he looks over you again, his words settling into his brain.

"Odd," he says, watching you frozen in place as he sits up. "I've never placed that thought. But that would be why you're here now, innit? You've been in the back of my brain so long you've appeared. The opium conjures what I reject."

"Why reject me, Tom, when I've always been by your side?"

"Why poison the only good?" He breathes out. "I'm done with this talk. You're like a mirage, if I touch you, you're gone."

You sit frozen as he cocks his head and reaches out as if to move a curtain away. His fingers ghost over your lips as his mouth slacks and his eyes flare. Shock and anger fight over his features like lightning in a summer thunderstorm.

"I'm not disappearing, Tom," you whisper against his fingertips. "The opium didn't conjure me. You touched me and I'm still here, unbroken."

"Fuck."

It's all he uttered. Sharp. Succinct. He pulls his hand back as if he burnt himself on you.

"Kiss me."

He buries his face in his hand, muttering nonsense to himself.

"I'm telling you I feel the same," you rasp, your heart fluttering as the words fill you with a jolt of fear. "You can't confess your feelings and refuse to kiss me."

"I'm afraid to kiss you," he breaths out, flustered by his own words. His hand wipes his mouth and shakily hangs in his lap.

"Why?"

"Because if I start I don't know if I can stop."

"Who says I want you to?"

Tommy hesitates but his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing it softly. Your hand finds the base of his neck and you pull him to you, your kiss hungry. Tommy matches your passion, his hesitation dripping away in the flames as you taste the whiskey on his tongue and a sour taste you can smell in the air around you. You breath out a soft moan as he bites your lip and his hands cup your face as his kisses move across your jaw.

"That sound," he growls as he pulls you into his lap, "I'll spend forever in that noise."

You chuckle, but your breath hitches as he kisses the soft spot on your neck. You wrap your arms around him and squirm in his lap. His teeth rake the spot and you're seeing stars, fucking planets orbiting your head. You moan louder and he growls into your skin, ripples of pleasure shooting down your spine.

"You like that," he says like it's fact, and it is. Oh, it is.

Your dress is over your head before you realize, only the cool air causing goosebumps across your flesh makes you register it's disappearance. He presses you back, pulling you both backward before his hand finds your chest and he lays you flat on your back.

"Hell is the absence of that noise you make," Tommy mumbles as his hands run along your legs and his nose tickles your thighs.

He searches, tests you, settles there as if he's willing to do anything to keep that noise in his head. You moan lightly when he touches the right spot and grow louder as he dives in, his hands pressing into your skin harder as your body wriggles from the intensity of the feelings he gives you. He hums as you arch your back against the bed.

You hiss, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite as you push against him. There are other people in the house and you can't yell the house down. You look down to see the crinkle of amusement around his eyes and his hand reaches to pull yours from your mouth.

"Your brothers are in the house, Tommy," you whine, fighting to keep your voice down as your eyes roll back.

"They've heard worse, love," he said as he climbs your body, his words growling down your ear. "But I've never heard something so sweet. Moan my name again."

He got his way. Tommy Shelby always got his way.

When both of you collapse together, breathing hard in each other's arms, Tommy pulls you close to his chest.

"I broke my rule for you," he says as he kisses the top of your head.

"Tommy Shelby has rules?" You twist to look up at him. "I always thought you look at rules and pass them by."

"I am selective with which ones I follow," he says as he pulls your lips to his. "I just have the one I've never broken."

"And that is?" You smile lazily, tired and enjoying his touch.

"Don't endanger the innocent."

Your brows knot together as you open your mouth to protest.

"My hands on your skin put you in danger," he says before you can speak. "I've put a target on your back with my bloody hands."

You kiss him slow and soft.

"Well," you say as you pull back. "I guess the devil of Small Heath will just have to protect me, then."

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #storytime with murderousginger #promptmurderousginger

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