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yanderecrazysie · 9 months

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Can you do a Yandere Sakusa one-shot?

Absolutely! I feel like I barely saw any of Sakusa in Haikyuu- so many people love him but I totally struggle with getting a feel for his personality. And thank you so much!

Also, it’s been a little while since I wrote about murder. Let’s change that! ^-^

Title: Competitive

Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, descriptions of murder, I know nothing about Japanese volleyball rules for girls on guy teams so just pretend I’m right

Summary: Sakusa’s never felt this competitive before. Maybe it has something to do with his newest opponent.

competitive

/adjective/

having or displaying a strong desire to be more successful than others:

Sakusa had never felt this alive.

He was used to staying in the background with a bored, disdainful expression. Judging people from a distance while staying in his own little germ-free corner. He rarely found interest in anything but volleyball.

Sure, he got competitive during volleyball, much more than in any other aspect of his life. He didn’t like leaving things unfinished and losing felt unfinished. He had a tendency to label rivals as a threat and overfocus on them throughout every match.

But never had he been more competitive than against this team.

He couldn’t understand why he viewed most of this team as such a threat or why he wanted to crush them harder than any team in the past.

Sakusa prided himself on his honesty, even if it went into the territory of being way too blunt. But this wasn’t so much lying to himself as it was being unable to figure out why?

He barely heard the whistle sound as he blankly turned to look at the scoreboard. Oh. They’d won. And by nearly 15 points. He’d been much too focused on the game to pay attention to the score. It felt like a blur.

The team he was playing at lined up and began to do their punishment exercises- running up and down the hill outside. Honestly, the training camp was going easy on everyone. If you lost in a competition, you were out.

Sakusa’s eyes trailed after one particular player as the number 13 jersey jogged through the morning dew-laden grass. You.

He’d been surprised that a team had let a girl play, but he had originally supposed you were just a bench warmer, let on to keep the parents’ mouths shut about equality. He had been outright shocked (though he’d never show it) when you lined up to play off against the other teams as not even the libero, but the setter.

You weren’t filling in for anyone, either, that much was for sure. Sakusa had watched your team beat another before playing against his and you were good. Your movements were fluid, your form was perfect, and you were a quick-thinker. Not a genius like Kageyama and not as talented as Oikawa, but you were a worthy opponent by far.

When he went up against your team, one of the wing-spikers (the one right across from him) said something snarky, something he couldn’t even remember anymore, and put his arm around you for just a moment while laughing.

And then, he’d been consumed by a need to win he couldn’t hope to control.

When your team turned around to run down the hill, he could see the disappointment on your face. You felt bad about losing, most likely, even though you’d probably done your very best. Sakusa didn’t know, he hadn’t been paying attention to you during the match.

Although, now it was over, he felt like he should have been.

You looked like an angel, with the sun’s rays lighting you up at that angle- he almost expected a halo to appear above your head. Your beautiful skin shone with sweat but it just enhanced your looks by making you glow.

He wasn’t the type to get this distracted by a girl, but he couldn’t help it.

“Why are you in a corner by yourself?”

To anyone else, Sakusa would say something biting, making them leave with their tails between their legs. To you, he could only look down at his food silently, wishing he had the guts to say anything to you.

“Would you like to sit with us?” Your voice was so soothing, so kind… You probably thought he was lonely, all by himself, when he did this to himself. He just wanted to get away from the crowd as they ate lunch, but you…

You really forced him out of his comfort zone from the moment you met him, huh?

“I’d prefer to stay here,” he managed to mumble out.

“Oh, okay,” you looked a little disappointed. Were you hoping to hang out with him? His heart lifted a little at the thought but quickly plummeted when you dejectedly walked away.

He knew then that, if you gave him the chance, he’d do anything to bring that smile back to your face.

The universe must hate him, Sakusa was sure of that.

Somehow, he’d been tasked to be the one to clean up all the dirty, germ-ridden volleyball equipment at the end of the night, along with that infuriating guy from your team that always had his hands all over you.

But you’d given Sakusa a little wave and sweet smile as you left, and that’s all that really mattered to him. Silly that a girl he’d just met had so much power over him.

There was a cage filled with all sorts of different PE equipment that the volleyballs were meant to go in. The two boys jogged around the gym, scooping up the balls, dropping them in the cage, and repeating.

It would’ve been fine, had it been in silence. But the other boy just would not shut up.

At first it was little digs at how their team would beat his next time, about how Sakusa’s a “weird guy”, and then he said something that sealed his fate.

“(Y/n)’s pretty hot though, don’t you think? The girl on our team? Bet you’re jealous.”

Oh, he was jealous. Jealous beyond words.

“Yeah, I’m glad she’s on the team- she looks hot in a jersey and shorts. Doesn’t she?”

Is this how he always talked about you? Did you know about this.

The two of them stopped at the cage to drop off volleyballs. As your teammate turned around to gather more, Sakusa fished around deeper inside, under the volleyballs.

“I really wish she’d let me-”

CRACK

The sound of a baseball bat meeting the side of the jerk’s skull was a wonderful sound to Sakusa.

The boy slumped forwards, landing on his face and not moving. For good measure, Sakusa brought the bat down hard on the back of his head. Twice.

He didn’t bother to touch his disgusting body to get a pulse reading- he could see the guy was dead from a mile away. It felt good. Better than he’d ever expected.

The threat was gone. Now both you and Sakusa could be a little happier.

But he wanted more. He wanted all of the competition out of the way, until it was just you and him. Maybe that was selfish of him but he couldn’t help it.

He wondered how many of your teammates he could dispose of before this week-long training camp was over.

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yandere one shot #yandere x reader #one shot #yandere sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi

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cariantha · 2 years

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Hot Ones

Book: Open Heart, Book 3

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)

Word count: 2348

Rating: Teen

Category: Fluff

Warning: A couple curse words.

Prompt: Your MC is on Hot Ones (the show)! How’s their spice tolerance and what are their preferred hot sauces? And best of all, what "spicy/ridiculous/personal" questions would they get asked? (prompt courtesy of @inlocusmads)

“Hey, what’s going on everybody? For ‘First We Feast,’ I’m Sean Evans and you’re watching ‘Hot Ones.’ It’s the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. And today we are joined by Dr. Sawyer Brooks. She’s the youngest doctor to ever join the world-renowned diagnostics team at Edenbrook Hospital in Boston, Mass. A team known for solving some of the nation’s toughest medical mysteries. You may also know her from guest appearances on the show ‘Just What the Doctor Ordered’ featuring YouTube sensation, Doctor Mike. Dr. Brooks, welcome to the show.”

“Thank you for having me, Sean. And please call me Sawyer.”

“I overheard you telling your friend backstage that you are a big fan of hot and spicy things.”

A blush quickly creeps up her neck and to her cheeks. “Oh, god,” she says, letting out a laugh. Sawyer looks past the cameras to the tall figure who is watching in the wings.

She shoots a big smile toward Ethan, then turns back to her host. “Um, yes, I do. But I wasn’t referring to food.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

SAUCE #1

“So, this first one is the Classic,” the host says.

Sawyer stares at the lineup of chicken wings in front of her with hesitation. “I have a confession that might get me kicked off the show.” She leans back in her seat as if to protect herself from the impending blowback. “I, I don’t like wings.”

“Wait, what!? How can you not like wings?”

“I know! And I’m sure I’ve just opened myself to a ton of hate maiI,” she says, picking up and inspecting the first wing. “Chicken with skin on it kind of grosses me out. Is it okay if I just nibble or lick the sauces off?”

“You can play the game however you want. We don’t really have any rules here,” Sean chuckles as he takes a bite of his first wing. “Is it true you won a spot on the famed diagnostics team after winning a ‘Top Intern’ competition?”

Sawyer huffs a laugh. “That makes it sound like I was on a reality TV show, like America’s Most Eligible or something.” She takes a small bite of the wing chewing with curiosity. “Although the intern competition was not without some TV-worthy drama. It seriously had it all. Catfights, sabotage, backstabbing… even a dramatic ‘exit from the show,’” she says, bringing the wing back to her lips for a bigger bite while attempting to also make quote fingers.

“That’s not too bad,” she says, nodding to the bottle of sauce.

“To answer your question though, I didn’t exactly win the competition. I worked my butt off to be at the top of the list and felt really good about my chances. But due to some unexpected circumstances the competition was canceled.” She looks down at her plate as flashbacks of the day Ethan quit suddenly flood her mind. “Ultimately, I was appointed to the fellowship by the team’s founding member, Dr. Banerji, after I helped save his life.”

“Wow, that sounds like it could be an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

“You have no idea how true that statement is,” she nods in agreement.

<><><><><><><><><><>

SAUCE #2

“The next one is Sauce Bae.”

“Aw, that sounds cute.” Sawyer takes a bite then quickly puts the wing down on the plate and fans her face.

“Not cute. Oh, wow, that’s fever-inducing.” With her napkin, Sawyer makes a show of dabbing sweat from her forehead.

“Speaking of baes, there are a lot of rumors circulating that you and Doctor Mike are an item. Any truth to the dating rumors?” Sean probes.

“Mike is amazing. I love what he’s doing to make medicine even cooler. He’s become a good buddy and I have so much fun when I’m on his show. But we are just friends.”

There is a little bit of commotion behind the cameras. Sawyer notices a crew member rolling his hand encouraging Sean to keep going.

“My crew is begging me to ask a follow up question. Doctor Brooks, does that mean you’re single?”

There is a deep baritone “Ha!” from offstage. Sawyer keeps her eyes trained on Sean.

“I’m sorry… but no, I’m not,” she says desperately trying to keep a poker face.

“Care to tell us more?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head and stuffs the wing back into her mouth to censor herself.

“Fair enough,” Sean says, letting go of the topic. “Sawyer, we have a recurring segment on our show called “Explain that ‘Gram, where we pull interesting pictures from your Pictagram that need more context. I’m going to pull your account up and show you a picture and you tell us what’s going on.”

“Okay.”

“Let me get my laptop set up here.” Sean then pulls up the first photo.

“Oh, this is a fun one. That was from Halloween a couple years ago. One of my besties from med school and I were headed to a costume party. I was an angel and he was a devil. He wouldn’t let us leave for the party until he saw who won the UCLA football game.”

“How about this one,” Sean asks, pulling up the next photo.

With the straightest of faces, she says cooly, “Surfing thirst trap.”

Sean laughs, “And what’s the story with this one?”

“Yoga thirst trap?” she pretends to guess as her cheeks turn pink.

Sean clicks on the next photo.

“I’m picking up on a theme here, Sean.”

“Me too. Thirst trap?” he asks.

“Yep.” She looks off camera and speaks to Ethan. “Remind me to make my account private when we get home.”

“Ok, last one,” Sean says, pulling up the final Pictagram photo.

“Not a thirst trap!” she defends. “My sisters and I were spending a few days together at a resort in San Diego. I had just checked the residency match portal and saw that I got matched to Edenbrook,” she smiles widely. “One of the best days of my life.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

“We are more than halfway through and moving on to our next sauce. But before we do, how are you feeling, Sawyer?”

“Like my sinuses have been evacuated, but let’s do this. I’m no quitter.”

“Alright then. Our next sauce is ‘Pain Is Good.”

“Well, it can’t be that bad. The guy on the label is making the ‘O’ face,” she jokes, making Sean bust out laughing. He picks up the bottle to take a closer look.

“I can’t believe no one has mentioned that before!” he calls out.

Sawyer trepidatiously picks up the next piece of chicken and gives it a sniff. Her eyes start to water as if she had just been cutting raw onions.

“Now in your line of work, you must deal with a lot of pain. Do you believe pain can be good?”

“Well obviously, the patients who are hurting would disagree, but for a doctor it’s extremely helpful when the patient can tell you exactly where it hurts. It’s so much easier to pinpoint possible causes. It’s often those silent and hidden ailments that make reaching a diagnosis a lot harder.”

“Ok, you ready for this one?”

“Nooooo… but no pain no gain, right?” She inhales a deep breath, “Here goes nothing.” Sawyer tears off a chunk of meat with her teeth. She winces, dramatically shakes her head back and forth, then reaches for a nearby glass of water. “Oh my god, that hurts so bad.”

Sean takes a big bite of his wing without so much as a flinch. “So unless they’ve been living under a rock, most people heard about the assassination attempt last year on Senator Ed Farrugia while he was a patient at your hospital. But what some people might not know is that you, Sawyer, were one of the senator’s doctors and you were one of the surviving victims of the chemical attack.”

Not able to speak more than a “Mmm, hmm” due to the heat ravaging her mouth, Sean continued.

“In other interviews you’ve talked about what happened that day and how your coworkers synthesized a cure overnight. But what I’m really curious about is what it feels like to be poisoned like that? Were you in a lot of pain?”

“You know it’s funny, I’m such a wimp when it comes to spicy foods, and I thought coming into this that I would have tapped out after sauce number three. But now that you mention the attack, I can say this isn’t nearly as bad as that experience. After inhaling the maitotoxin, my nose, throat and eyes burned so badly. The chemicals settled on our skin. There was this oily sheen that wouldn’t come off and after a while it felt like a bad sunburn and became really itchy. And just like now, I had to keep reminding myself not to touch my face and make things worse.”

Sawyer wipes her hands on her napkin. “I’m honestly surprised I’ve made it this far without rubbing hot pepper sauce in my eyes. It’s seriously become a joke in my family that if there’s chili flake or super glue around, somehow it will end up in my eye.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

SAUCE #9

“This is the second to last sauce. It’s called Scorpion Disco.”

“Okaaay,” her voice quivers.

“I picked this one because you grew up in the Southwest, right? You split your time between Arizona and California.”

“Uh huh,” she whimpers, still trying to recover from the previous attack on her mouth.

“Scorpions are pretty common in Arizona. Have you ever been stung?”

“Thankfully, n-no. But I d-do have a funny s-story about that,” she stutters.

She gargles some milk before continuing.

“One night I woke up to my mom shouting to my dad, ‘It’s moving up the wall, get it!.’ And I knew immediately it was a scorpion.”

Sawyer throws her head back and blinks her eyes several times before continuing.

“We had just moved into a new home and the new construction in the neighborhood displaced all the creepy crawlies from the desert. We were always finding scorpions, tarantulas, and rattlesnakes around the house.”

She takes another swig of milk.

“Anyway, just minutes after I heard my mom yelling about the scorpion, I felt something crawling up my leg. I just laid there paralyzed, afraid if I moved that I’d get stung. I tried to whisper-scream to my parents, but they didn’t hear me. After what seemed like hours, I finally worked it out in my head that it was the lesser of two evils to just allow myself to get stung than to lay still like that all night. So, I finally flipped my sheets off and looked down. It turned out to be just a big, gross cricket.”

“Ready to get stung now?”

“My answer is the same as the last 8 times you’ve asked… nooooo,” disdain tainting her voice.

“On three… 1… 2… 3,” Sean takes a bite while Sawyer licks the side of the wing.

“God dammit!” she yells, throwing the wing down on the table and reaching for the milk. She chugs it down as if her throat is literally on fire.

“You’ve been in Boston for a couple years now. How have you adjusted to East Coast life?”

“Oh s-sweet baby Jesus… um, aside f-from the cold and s-snow,” her voice was getting hoarse. “I have fallen in l-love in Boston… I mean w-with Boston,” recovering her words as she also tries to recover her senses.

Ethan can’t help the smile on his face catching her first word choice. They haven’t said those three words to each other yet, but her slip of the tongue was a comforting validation.

“Let’s play a little ‘this or that’ and see which coast wins out. Tacos or lobster roll?”

“Ta..cos,” she gags.

“Flip flops or deck shoes?”

She pounds her fists on the table repeatedly. “Flipping a…,” she bites her bottom lip.

“I’ll take that as flip-flops. Earthquake or hurricane?”

“H-hurricane… more w-warning,” she forces out.

“Tina Fey or Emma Stone?”

“Tie. Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Sawyer cries, blowing her nose into a clean napkin. Fresh tears start to fall from the corners of her eyes.

As she moves her fingers to swipe them away, she hears Ethan shout “Don’t touch your eyes!” But it was already too late.

“Ah, shit,” she whispers as she pinches her eyes closed as tight as possible.

<><><><><><><><><><>

SAUCE #10

“This is the ‘Last Dab.’ We call it the last dab because it's a tradition around here to put a little extra on the last wing.”

“Are you insane?!”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to…”

She looks for and pleads to Ethan. “Baby, please be ready to resuscitate me… because I’m about to die.”

Sean and Sawyer each pick up the final wing. After a short staredown and knowing glance, they both take their final bites.

“Uh uh, uh uh, uh uh,” she mutters, sweeping the napkin into her mouth to scrape the offensive substance from her tongue.

“Alright, Dr. Sawyer Brooks, here we are at the finish line. Ten chicken wings up and ten chicken wings down. You did so good!” he and the crew clap. “Any chance we changed your opinion about wings?”

“H-hate them, hate them even m-more,” she sobs.

Sean laughs heartily. “Sawyer, thank you for being a good sport. We’ve got a gallon of milk over here to help cool you down.”

“Yesssss, please,” she begs.

“Your friend told me during the last break that if I crack a joke while you’re drinking, there's a 90% chance you’ll snort it out through your nose.”

After taking a big gulp and placing her mug down, she chokes out, “Oh, he did, did he?”

She finds and makes eye contact with Ethan who has stepped a little closer to the stage.

“What? It might help soothe the burn in your nostrils,” Ethan responds from next to one of the cameras.

“Mmm, hmm. Well, for calling me out like that, I’m going to dab this Satan sauce on my tongue and come over there and kiss you senseless.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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celsardo · 4 months

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𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖉𝖚𝖇𝖇𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖆'𝖘 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓, it was not an upbringing that celaena had grown into. when king havilliard slaughtered millions in his own plight for power, celaena's parents, two nobleheads, fell victim to his brutality. celaena had just been eight years old when she had awoken in a pool of her parents' blood, and it had stained her skin in ways that no water could wash. weeks later, the starving and nearly frozen to death child was found by arobynn hamel, a leader of a ring of assassins who took celaena under his wing. he wasn't a paternal figure, but he taught her how to survive, despite his methods being brutal. when he realized her left hand was weaker in combat than her right, he told her to break her right hand or he'd do it himself. so, that night, she slammed her right hand in a door and broke two bones so she could learn to be ambidextrous. he taught her how to slip from any bindings by letting her stay on the ground for days in her own filth until she figured out how to escape. this sort of training led her to become known as andorra's assassin despite her young age, the deadliest assassin in the small country nestled between france and spain.

by the time she was sixteen, she had gained the attention of one of andorra's most dangerous crime lords, ioan jayne, who sought out celaena and the one person who meant the most to her -- sam cortland, her first love. sam had accepted a contract to kill jayne and his right hand, rourke farran, so that he could use the money to start a life with celaena. however, the mission went terribly wrong as sam was captured and celaena was baited into the trap, where she was forced to watch sam die the worst, most agonizing death she can recall ever seeing. blinded by rage once she was rescued, she returned to get revenge on farran, but she was intercepted by authorities and thrown into the salt mines, one of the many prison camps amongst andorra.

most people only survived the death camps for a few months at a time, but celaena was too stubborn to die. she kept her head low except for one particular night. one night where she snapped and barreled through guard after guard. it was the ninth anniversary of her parents' death, and she had her eye on the escape. did she think she'd get there? no, no. but death would be an equal blessing. she had just barely kissed her fingers to the edge of the mines when she was dragged back down, laughing wildly as she faced her punishment.

she kept her head low for months to come after that, her frame thin and malnourished, when the king's guard came for her. she was selected by the crown prince dorian to come to the glass castle, where she would soon learn she was to compete against twenty three other dangerous figures in andorra ( all men, of course ) to be the king's champion. she had negotiated her freedom with dorian. if she won the competition, then she would work for his father for four years before she would be granted total freedom. as far as the court was concerned, she was not celaena sardothien, andorra's assassin. that would put a target on her back. so, she gained a pseudonym, lady lillian gordaina, in order to give her the best fighting chance in the competition.

the competition wasn't easy, especially in the final trials where she learned that the largest competitor, cain, was cheating to find gains for himself. he nearly bested her, but she ended up coming out on top. she served king havilliard for four years ( often playing him by exchanging information from his targets before letting them change their name and escape with their lives, robbing sick houses to present body parts for the king ) before she was given the freedom she had worked hard to earn.

now that she's earned her freedom, celaena is exploring europe with a large question mark in her mind. she has an apartment in the slums of andorra from before she was taken to the mines, but the salary she was given for her work won't last forever, so for now, she's taking on freelance assassin jobs in order to maintain a warm place to sleep at night and food in her stomach while she works to find her purpose in this new lease on life.

#verse info #「 𝓿 」 » andorra's assassin

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leviathanspain · 3 years

Text

sedated

the floor beneath your feet shook as you and anakin fought. you were standing on a platform above the lava that would absolutely kill the both of you.

his saber smashed against yours, you felt the muscles in your arm weaken as you pushed back roughly.

“give up!” he growled, “you’ll die!” his words didn’t sound like a warning, they were laced with a threat.

you shook your head as your body betrayed you, your saber hit the floor and your body slumped to your knees. your head bowed down to anakin, unwillingly but seeing no way out without your life, you bit back a sob.

anakin watched as you fell back onto the platform, and pursed his lips.

“this is for the better.” he tried to excuse his actions, the betrayal of the jedi order and joining the dark side, but you sniffled and stared at him.

anakin. the only other person in your jedi class who could even come close to being your competition.

you had been ordered to train with him, for the both to learn from the other as you had vastly different fighting styles. through it all, you two were at odds. padawans in the making, a final fight was determined to who was the best. you had won, and mace windu had taken you under his wing. anakin nearly won but alas, he got the scraps when it came to obi-wan.

although, throughout the entire of your schooling with anakin, especially the remarks and crude comments you flung at each other, you couldn’t deny the chemistry that blossomed between the two of you.

anakin had felt it. a pull to the only girl he ever viewed to despise. he thought it was odd, that someone who was so easily under his skin could possibly be the only person in the galaxy that he would bond with.

all the options were thrown out when one day, anakin went to the training room and was paired off with someone else. windu had taken you out early, beginning the journey of becoming a full fledged jedi, without him.

it was all the fuel he needed to train harder, to leave and make sure he would beat you.

now, here you were, anakin had sunk down to be face to face with you, his body caged over yours like a wild animal to its prey.

his nose nuzzled into your skin as you reached up to touch his neck.

“i’ve never been so sure of anything until now.” anakin admitted and stared at you with wild eyes.

the attraction was undeniable, and although you laid injured, anakin could do anything he wanted to you.

“what is that?” you raised your eyesbrows, clutching his arm that was at your side.

“that i would fuck the absolute shit of your pretty cunt.” he whispered to you, his sweat dripping onto your hot skin.

“why don’t you do it then? prove to me that you aren’t some small dicked, weak man.” you tainted him, feeling the hot lava beneath you make you more nervous with sweat.

anakin chuckled, “don’t lie.”

he undid your pants, shucking them down your legs as your skin hit the hot platform. the heat made for a good sear on your skin and you winced, but it was a feeling you got used to quickly.

anakin stared at you and smiled, his robotic hand reaching down into your cunt. “you know.. i had always imagined a fight between us would end up like this.” he admitted and scooted down to be face to face with your pussy.

he lapped up the wet juices before sticking his fingers into you. he stretched you out nicely, nothing compared to what he would soon unsheathe but you gave a small moan as he licked at your folds, pushing in with his tongue.

“such a good girl. my slut.” he growled, unbuckling his pants enough to take his cock out. the thickness was baffling, so was the shear size of it. you composed yourself, not wanting to disprove your taunts just yet.

anakin let his cock soak in the juices of your cunt, laughing as you moaned with want.

“please..” you practically begged, wanting for him to fill you to the brim and some.

anakin took out a blaster from his belt and held it to your head, you scoffed.

“you want to fuck me and then kill me? be anymore cliche, will you skywalker?” you looked at it and back to him.

“just a warning. do not cum unless i say so.” he raised an eyebrow and unclicked the security button.

he slowly entered you, but made no way to let you adjust. he just went for it, and began to fuck you hard into the hot platform. your head hit the metal and you gasped, feeling the pain of your head but the pleasure of anakin fucking you was enough to make you forget.

his pace was relentless, he glanced to see himself go in and out of you and only then did he get more riled up. his hand gripped your hips, a bruise was going to form but you sucked on your lip and hoped for the best.

you looked down at him and he smirked, “close?”

you swallowed nervously and smiled, “not even close.” continuing your taunts.

with his, he went even faster, something you couldn’t even think was humane.

but only then did the familiar pit form in your stomach.

the slut ripped itself from you as you cried out, “anakin! please! please!” you begged and reached down to try to release yourself. his hand reached out to stop you, pushing it away and pushing the blaster harder into your head.

“beg for it. beg for my cock to make you cum.”

“please- anakin-“

“master! call me master!” he warned and you squirmed as he continued to fuck you.

“master! please let me cum. let your cock make me cum!” you begged even harder now, your finger nails digging into the skin of his arm.

he smirked and pulled the blaster away, setting both his hands next to you, “cum for me.” and he fucked harder, and harder as you shook underneath him. his release wasn’t too far away as he twitched inside you. as your eyes rolled back in bliss, anakin groaned, his cum filling you up.

he pulled out and stared to see your cum and his dripping out of your red cunt.

“fuck you.” you breathed out, looking at anakin who smirked, gripping your thigh.

#star wars x reader #star wars imagine #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin imagine #anakin smut #star wars smut #kylo ren x reader

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attllhak · 3 years

Text

Surface Too Soon .3

@tortilla-of-courage @emenerd hey look it’s chapter 3. Two chapters in a day and I’m on a roll.

General warnings because Ghirahim is in this chapter and he’s, well, he’s Ghirahim. And he’s being creepy.

Anyways, enjoy! (And to Tortilla, sorry for torturing you with vague updates as I wrote. The boy is fine, just shaken up and scared.)

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Chapter 3: On The Surface

Link did his best to swallow back every pained whimper as the strange woman ran her hands over his body. He still didn’t want to move, because ow, and it wasn’t like he was in a position to complain.

He’d already survived, which was more than he’d expected after he made it past the clouds.

He did end up crying out as she made it to his ankle, jerking it up away from her, sparking more pain along his leg and side.

She sat back, glaring at him slightly.

“Well, you’re not walking,” she huffed, glaring at the offending ankle, which was throbbing quite painfully. “I’ll need to actually be allowed to take a look at that to assess the damage,”

Link frowned at her, shifting his leg a bit further away.

This seemed to frustrate the woman further. “I am trying to help you. I can’t do that unless you let me.”

Link considered this, and considered the pain he was in, and then considered that, ulterior motives aside, he had no idea where he could find help without this woman. Slowly, because ow, he moved his leg back down to her.

He had to grit his teeth as she slid off his boot and sock to inspect his ankle, and then declared it not broken, but still very badly injured.

His ribs, it turned out, were broken in a few places. Which explains the crack he felt.

One of his shoulders had been dislocated, which the woman popped back into place, which was a LOT of ow.

Eventually, with a lot of complaining and pained noises and slow movements, she got Link sitting up against the sand he’d sid down. So he was still kinda laying down.

Which is when he finally got a look at his surroundings. Hard, red rock rose up all around him, the slope above and behind him was all loose sand, and some kind of thick, red liquid sloshed nearby, giving off heat.

“Who are you?” He asked, and filed away quickly that ow, talking hurts.

The woman looked at him, pausing from where she was using the fabric that had been covering her face to wrap his foot. She looked very annoyed for some reason he couldn’t identify.

Link didn’t know why he’d pissed her off by landing here, but he felt a bit bad for it.

“My name is Impa,” she said finally, turning back to his ankle. “I am a servant to the goddess Hylia, meant to protect the Spirit Maiden on her journey to fulfil her destiny,” she finished tying off the fabric and looked up to meet Link’s eyes. “You are not her,”

He lifted his good arm, since the other still hurt to move. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”

She frowned at him, like he wasn’t making sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping that would help.

This got him a glare.

“You do not need to apologize for not being who I was waiting for,” Impa told him bluntly. “I’m mad, but not at you. I’m mad because you shouldn’t be down here yet. I should be meeting the Spirit Maiden, not the Chosen Hero. Regardless, you are in no shape to fulfil your duty, and I see no sign of Her Grace arriving here. I’ll take you somewhere safer to heal, and we’ll talk more about your destiny then,”

Link had no idea what she meant by most of that, but it was nice to know she wasn’t mad at him.

He did make a few pained noises as she picked him up, balancing him in her arms.

Every movement as she carried him away from the heat and rocks was ow, ow, ow. He really was a giant bruise by now. Also ow.

The green that started popping up was awe inducing. Especially as there came more and more green. Link had never seen so much green before. And the trees! There were so many trees!

He probably should have paid more attention to where they were going, but he was too enthralled with his surroundings to care.

Which was when he noticed the tiny birds.

All thoughts of pain and worry were out the window at this discovery, and he all but begged Impa to stop and let him look at the tiny birds. She said later, and he tried pouting, which didn’t work, and then needled away until she agreed to bring him a tiny bird to hold when they stopped.

That had Link very excited.

Eventually, Link was set down on a very big plant, Impa called it a mushroom when he asked, and was told to stay put. Impa promised to bring him a tiny bird and some healing items.

Link, of course, did not stay put.

His right ankle couldn’t support his weight, so he ended up crawling around instead, doing his best to keep his weight off his left arm.

When Impa got back and finally found him, he was lying on his stomach and chatting with a small creature he met called a kikwi, who was also face down on the ground.

Impa was not pleased in the least.

He drank the potion she brought him, and even got to hold one of the tiny birds after he’d done so. It felt so small and fragile in his hands, and it was so cute. Even his new kikwi friend stood up to also coo over the tiny bird with him.

Machi didn’t understand why Link was so fascinated with the bird, but Machi also was a bit confused by the whole ‘came from the sky thing’, so Link didn’t hold it against him.

Impa just seemed frustrated with him, proceeding to lecture him about why laying on his stomach was bad for his ribs and how he was just going to hurt himself more. Something about pressure on the breaks or whatever.

Link was only about half listening to her. Oh he was trying to pay attention to what she was saying, of course he was. He always got in trouble in class for not focusing, and he knew it was even more important to focus on what she was telling him down here, with so many unknowns.

But, there was just so much happening around him! The trees here were HUGE! And there were so many new kinds of plants! And what even was a mushroom and were they all that big? And the little bird was falling asleep in his hands, which was adorable, and there were more birds flying around. And there was a new bug he’d never seen before on the wall over there.

It was hard to focus on her, was the point. He kept getting distracted by all the new things to look at.

“Are you even listening to me?” She asked, frowning at him.

Link, realizing he’d zoned out and missed most of what she’d said, responded as tactfully as he could think of.

He lifted up the tiny bird to her slightly. “I can feel it’s heartbeat,”

Impa slapped her face.

Link got the slightest hint that maybe, maybe, he was pissing her off a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching her drag the hand down her face. “There’s just a lot of new things around and I’m having trouble focusing on you. If it helps, I’ve kinda always had trouble paying attention when surrounded by new things,”

She looked very unimpressed.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll talk about all that later. But no more lying on your stomach,”

Link nodded seriously, or as seriously as he could manage. “Yes, ma’am.”

She looked very tired, and while Link didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d fallen that morning (he’d never been good with time and today was not a good day for that) he was still pretty sure it was too early in the day for her to look so exhausted.

He was pretty sure he was at fault for that. Maybe he should apologize?

“Are you hungry?” Impa asked finally, after just looking at him for a while.

Link was about to say no, but then his stomach growled and so he nodded instead. Food never hurt, he figured.

“Stay put. I mean it this time,” Impa pointed at him firmly. “I’ll be right back,”

Link watched her walk off, and figured maybe he should actually listen this time. She had seemed awful annoyed.

“So, what’s it like in the sky?” Machi asked as the silence dragged on.

“Oh, it’s great!” Link grinned. “The stories say the goddess sent us up there a long time ago to protect us. We ride around on big birds called loftwings, and it’s so pretty, and I was supposed to participate in this competition called the Wing Ceremony so I could graduate into the senior class and become a knight. Actually, I wonder who won it. I mean, I know Zelda will be disappointed- HOLY HYLIA ZELDA!”

The bird in his hands startled and flew away, and Machi fell over at Link’s outburst. Link’s hands shot up to fist in his hair, panic and worry constricting his chest.

“Zelda is probably so worried about me! I have to get back to Skyloft, I need to tell her I’m okay!” Link gasped, suddenly remembering that little detail he’d forgotten in his excitement. “I gotta get back to the sky!”

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed then, Sky Child,”

Link didn’t like the way that voice slithered along his spine like a snake, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He slowly turned his head to see someone standing on one of the mushrooms, smiling at him like a remlit that had just caught a butterfly.

This individual, probably a man if Link had to guess, was very pale, skin fitted white clothing stuck tight like a second skin and a deep red cape sat around the man’s shoulders. Sharp, too big eyes watched Link like he was the most fascinating and precious thing in the world, and it made him feel very uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way this man was looking at him, eyes taking in his form and tracking even the rise and fall of his chest as he wrestled to keep his breathing under control.

There was something very wrong about this man, and Link wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure if his leg could support his weight yet, not that he’d be able to run very far even if it could.

Where was Impa? She said she’d be right back.

“Don’t bother looking for your bodyguard,” the man grinned, noticing Link breaking eye contact to scan the forest where Impa had gone. “She’s a bit, tied up right now,”

The smile on the man’s face made every nerve and muscle in Link’s body scream “RUN!” at him. But he couldn’t run, he’d never make it away in time.

Stall! He thought desperately at himself. Stall so Impa can get back and get you out of here!

“Wh-who are you?” Link asked, fighting his throat and hating how shaky he sounded.

He’d never been in real danger before, though he was pretty sure that’s what this was, and he was terrified. He didn’t know what to do here!

The man grinned wider, and Link felt his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots.

“Oh how rude,” the man cooed. “I hadn’t introduced myself. I am the Demon Lord who presides over the land you look down upon, this world you call the Surface,” he vanished in a cloud of diamonds, then reappeared inches from Link’s face. “You may call me Ghirahim. In truth, I much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I’m not fussy,”

Link backpedalled, crawling as fast as he could to put as much distance between himself and the man as he could.

Ghirahim vanished again, this time appearing behind Link to grab his shoulders. Link froze, fear rooting him to the spot. He didn’t dare breathe.

Where was Impa?!

“I’m much more interested in you, however,” the, the demon cooed almost directly into Link’s ear. He suddenly felt nauseous. “Yes, Your Majesty, you are a much more interesting find. I had actually expected your mortal form to be that of a woman, but I’m not complaining about this little surprise. It’s certainly clever, if nothing else,”

Link swallowed down bile, body tense as he felt the man continue to look him over, even from the awkward angle.

Impa, he thought desperately. Please hurry!

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re t-talking about,” Link stammered out, fighting his very uncooperative voice to keep it from shaking too badly. He didn’t really succeed.

Ghirahim chuckled, the sound directly in his ear causing goosebumps to rise up on his skin. It was warm out, but Link shivered.

“No, of course you don’t, not yet. You just got here,” Ghirahim finally vanished again, appearing in front of him, and Link finally let himself breathe, chest heaving and sending him back onto his elbows. “I had thought that goddess-serving dog would have told you, but no matter. Whether you know or not, it doesn’t change my plans. And you, dear boy, are very important to them,”

The sick, pleased smile on Ghirahim's face made Link want to hurl, and scream, and curl up into a ball and cry. He’d never had to deal with someone this, this deranged before, and he was scared. He was scared, and he wanted to go home. He wanted to be back up on Skyloft with Zelda, getting yelled at for not practicing hard enough. He wanted his best friend to smile and tell him this was all a bad dream and hold him tight and tell him it was going to be okay. Hell, he’d even take dealing with Groose over this.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to this morning, and not be here, trapped under the gaze of a demon who seemed so pleased to have caught him.

“Stay away from him!”

Ghirahim turned, dodging sharply as someone moved to attack him.

Impa!

Link gasped in relief. He had never before been so happy to see someone he’d only known for a few hours.

Impa positioned herself between Link and Ghirahim, glaring down the demon lord and turning herself into a barrier.

“Of course, you’re here,” Ghirahim sneered, lips twisting on his face in disgust. “Come to protect your precious Spirit Maiden, hm?”

“Link,” Impa said, ignoring what Ghirahim was saying but never taking her eyes off him. “Run,”

“Imp-” Link tried, voice still shaky and weak sounding.

“GO!” Impa snapped, and Link scrambled around to get moving.

He knew he wouldn’t get far, being as injured as he was, and who knew what other kinds of monsters there were in the woods. He spotted Machi waving to him and scrambled over, ducking behind one of the mushrooms to hide, waved into a small crack in the stone where he curled up to wait, Machi pulling some of the vines to hide him better.

He could hear fighting beyond his hiding spot, and covered his ears with his hands in the hopes of blocking out the sounds of breaking glass and metal on metal. He squeezed his eyes shut too, stomach and chest twisting uncomfortably at every flash of blue and black light.

He had never been so scared or helpless in his life, and he hated it. He hated it, he hated it, he hated it.

He wanted to go home. To where there were no demons out for him or Spirit Maidens or fighting between people to the death. He wanted Zelda to tell him it was okay, like she would when he had nightmares, or when Groose was a bit meaner than usual. He wanted the biggest worry in his life to be whether or not Groose put something in his food or hit him with a spitball during class.

He was done with the Surface, he wanted to go home!

It was far too long before he realized the sound of fighting had stopped. Did, who won? Was Impa okay? Was Ghirahim going to take him away somewhere for some reason he still didn’t understand?

“Link,”

Link slowly opened his eyes and turned his head at the soft voice.

Impa was crouched down next to his hiding spot. She was bleeding in a few places, and her features were creased with worry, but she was okay.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, once she was certain he was looking at her.

Link shook his head, the movement jerky. “Is, is he, is,” he paused to swallow, finding it hard to get his thoughts across and into words. “Gone?” He finally managed.

Impa nodded. “For now, yes, he’s gone,”

Link felt like bursting into tears. He was scared, and mostly alone, and some demon was hunting him and Impa had gotten hurt trying to protect him and-

“I want to go home,” he said quietly, not even really embarrassed by how broken the phrase sounded.

Impa frowned, gently, and offered him her hand. “I know. I can’t get you home right now, though,”

Link sniffed, reaching up to swipe at his eyes. He somehow already knew that.

“Come on, it’s not safe here,” Impa said, offering her hand to him again. “There’s somewhere safe close by where we can at least spend the night, though,”

Link sniffed again, wiping at his face with his sleeve, and accepted her hand, crawling out of the spot he’d hidden in. He felt like a little kid all over again, like he was when his parents had died. Scared and lost and alone, with no idea how anything was going to turn out or if it would even be okay.

Only this time he didn’t have Zelda, or Pipit, or Karane to help him out. There was no Geapora to take him in. Just him, a whole world full of new things and dangers, and Impa.

“Is he going to come back?” Link asked while Impa looked him over for any new injuries.

Impa paused, looking up at him, then turned her eyes back to his arm. “Probably,” she admitted, slowly, like she was trying not to scare him. “Which is why we can’t stay here,”

“What does he even want from me?” Link asked, trying his best not to actually burst into tears. He didn’t want to cry. He could be brave, though he was starting to think he didn’t want to be.

Impa sighed, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d feared considering the last time someone held his shoulders.

“He doesn’t want anything from you,” Impa told him seriously. “He wants something from the person he thinks you are. He wants the Spirit Maiden,”

“But I’m not the Spirit Maiden,” Link said, in a way that bordered on a mix of a whine and beg but wasn’t quite either. “Can he leave us alone?”

The sympathetic look Impa gave him did not make him feel better.

“He doesn’t know that, though,” Impa said gently, squeezing his shoulders to try and offer him some comfort. “He thinks you are the Spirit Maiden, which is why he’s targeting you,”

Link could feel himself trembling, and he dropped his eyes away from Impa’s.

“I want to go home,” he repeated, trying his best to blink back scared tears and avoid just curling into a ball.

“I know,” Impa sighed, and he felt a gentle hand brush through his hair. “Come on, let’s head somewhere safe for now. We can work on getting you home once you’re healed,”

Link nodded, sniffling a bit and swiping at his face with his sleeves.

He hated being so helpless. He hated being so scared.

He just hoped Zelda wasn’t hating herself too much for pushing him. It really wasn’t her fault he ended up down here, being hunted by a demon.

He hoped Impa could find him a way home soon, so that he could apologize for worrying her.

He was done being excited by the surface.

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Note

We already talked about this in dms but like👀 Keigo and a female reader that he thinks is just all cute and shit. But nah she’s actually one of the best dancers in japan and specializes in badass and sexy dances

I went down such a rabbit hole picking out the choreo for this for zero reason 💀💀💀 but man am I here for it. For those curious what I pictured writing this it’s this dance at time code 7:27 choreography is by Jojo Gomez

It’s an 18+ one y’all, minors dni. Warnings for dom/sub dynamics, mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, hand jobs, light edging, light nipple play, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, minor praise kink

“So when are you finally gonna seal the deal with (y/n)?” Mirko asks Hawks one day as they walk their usual patrol route. It’s a quiet day and quiet days always made Mirko more likely to pry. “Seal the deal?” Hawks asks. “Y’know... Do the devil’s tango? Make the beast of two backs? Teach her the birds and the bees?” Mirko teases, wiggling her eyebrows and crowding into his personal space. Hawks rolls his eyes hard and shoves her out of his space, not that it deters her. “It’s not like that,” he tells his nosy friend but she just scoffs in response. “Don’t play like you don’t want to get all up on her, Hawks. You go to that cafe she works at every night after your shift and I’m pretty sure you don’t even like coffee,” Mirko points out. “I like coffee,” Hawks retorts mulishly. “No you don’t.” “Drop it Mirko.” “Oh c’mon! It’ll be easier if you just admit it.” “Fine! She’s adorable, you happy?” Hawks finally huffs, red tinting his cheeks. There’s a beat of silence before Mirko responds but it’s not quite the response Hawks is expecting. “Wait you think (y/n)... is adorable?” Mirko asks. “What do you mean? She is!” Hawks replies defensively. “Relax tough guy, adorable just isn’t the word I’d use to describe her,” Mirko shrugs. “How else would you describe her? She always seems kinda sleepy on her shift and she wears those big oversized sweatshirts,” Hawks elaborates but Mirko continues to look confused by his assessment of you. “Have you never seen her dance before?” Mirko finally asks. “She dances?” Hawks responds.

In Hawks’ personal opinion, Mirko’s reaction is over dramatic. She had stopped in her tracks and stared at him as if he’d sprouted a third head or announced an early retirement. “What?” he asks, even more defensive than before. Mirko heaves a sigh as if Hawks’ ignorance is her greatest source of disappointment. “I forget sometimes you live under a rock, Jesus Christ. We really do need to talk about you getting out more for things other than work and creeping on the sexy dancer barista you have a crush on. Why do you think she’s so tired every shift?” Mirko asks in disbelief. “She’s a student isn’t she? I assumed school stuff!” “You really are hopeless.” “Hey!” “She has rehearsal before her shift dummy, she’s tired from practicing.” “How do you know so much about it huh?” “Well for starters her group has literally won competitions so jot that down. And two we follow each other on Twitter.” “Why do I even ask you things?” Hawks laments. “Shut up, I have an idea,” Mirko suddenly grins. “Oh god, what the fuck are you planning now?” Hawks groans. “I think we should pay (y/n) a little visit during rehearsal, don’t you?”

Hawks follows Mirko through the halls of the university rec center with a growing sense of dread. She looks mischievous and that’s usually a sign that Hawks is going to regret whatever he just signed up for. After they round a final corner, Hawks can clearly hear music coming out of a room down the hall labeled rehearsal room B. Hawks and Mirko push through the door right as the song stops and immediately Hawks realizes that this was a mistake. Gone is your oversized hoodie, instead you’re in just a pair of sweats and a sports bra, covered in sweat and chest still heaving from whatever dance you and the two other girls with you had just done. Hawks should’ve just ignored Mirko and waited to look up one of your dances on YouTube in the privacy of his own apartment. “Hey (y/n)!” Mirko calls out cheerily even as Hawks mentally curses her out for dragging him here. Your gaze snaps over to the two of them and immediately you break out into a wide grin, the same one Hawks had been fawning over as cute and precious for the past several weeks. “What are you two doing here?” you ask as your friends grab water. “We were in the neighborhood and I remember you mentioning you rehearse around this time so I figured why not swing by?” Mirko replies and god does Hawks hate her right now. “You guys have perfect timing actually, we’re working on something to the song ‘Ride’ by Ciara and it would be really great to get an outside opinion on it. Would you guys mind sticking around to check it out? I promise it’ll be quick the other girls have something right after this,” you ask the two pros, giving your best puppy dog eyes. Hawks wants to politely decline, he’s having enough trouble keeping himself in check as it is thank you very much, but before he can Mirko is already agreeing and he doesn’t have the heart to shut things down when you look so excited. “Ah amazing!! Ok! Just sit at the front of the room and be our audience!” you beam and Hawks is helpless but to comply.

Hawks’ eyes trace over every inch of your body as you start the music and then get into the starting formation of the dance. Hawks can tell the moment you’ve focused in on performing your choreography because your whole demeanor and energy shifts. It’s commanding and confident and very, very sexy. He’s starting to understand Mirko’s reaction to his earlier description of you because the woman he sees before him now? Well adorable doesn’t quite fit the bill anymore. He’s already half hard in his work pants, much to his chagrin. What would the tabloids say if they knew he was getting this aroused in public? It’s not exactly befitting of the number two hero considering he’s supposed to be a role model for future generations. But could anyone blame him? The way you move your body and swing your hips is mesmerizing. At one point you slowly roll your body down to grind your hips to the floor and it’s impossible for Hawks not to imagine you using that same precise control to grind down onto his dick. He tries to focus on the music instead in hopes it will help him calm down but it only takes a second for him to realize the song is painting the very same image he’s trying desperately to clear from his head. He’s almost positive Mirko is smirking beside him but he can’t focus on her, you’ve captured the entirety of his attention.

Then the chorus hits and Hawks is really in trouble. You’re singing along. You’re singing “they love the way I ride it” and making direct fucking eye contact with him while you swing your hips in a slow, sensual grind and how can he not react to that? His wings flare and puff out instinctively, his cheeks going red, and his dick is now fully erect and leaking precum into his boxers. It would be mortifying if he weren’t too focused on your every move to truly remember his surroundings. Eventually the song ends and even though Mirko stands to go compliment you and your friends on a job well done, Hawks stays rooted in place. He doesn’t dare move as his painfully hard cock twitches in his pants. Sweat drips down your neck and god he wants to lick it off you so goddamn bad he barely even notices you saying bye to Mirko and your friends until the door is shutting behind them.

Hawks hasn’t even fully registered that the two of you are now alone in the room before he’s coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your bare torso. You open your mouth to ask what’s up with him when you suddenly feel his erection against your backside. “Tell me you don’t want this or I won’t be able to stop,” he all but growls against the shell of your ear. “What if I do want it though?” you ask breathlessly as you shamelessly grind your ass back against his throbbing dick. The moan that crawls its way out of his throat in response is guttural, he genuinely can’t think of a time he’s ever been more turned on in his life as he wastes no time spinning you around to face him and pressing you up against the wall. “You knew what you were doing didn’t you?” he asks before dropping his nose down to run along your jaw. You shudder as he licks a long stripe up your neck, delighting in the salty taste of your sweat. “Maybe?” you hedge at first but then he bites the column of your throat hard enough you’re sure it’ll leave a mark and you can’t help but whimper. He draws back to look you in the eye, his pupils blown so wide they’ve almost completely consumed his golden irises. “Don’t lie to me little dove,” he warns. “I may have gone a little harder than usual because you were watching me,” you admit and it’s apparently the right answer as Hawks all but chirps his satisfaction before leaning down to press a bruising kiss to your lips that has you melting. One of his hands slides up to grasp and squeeze one of your breasts but even that is not enough for him and in the next moment one of his feathers glides in to swiftly cut your sports bra off entirely. You’re about to protest but the words die in your throat as Hawks starts pinching and twisting one of your nipples. “Does that feel good little dove?” he asks and all you can do is let your head fall back against the wall and nod your approval.

Hawks takes advantage of your head’s position to resume leaving marks on your exposed neck as his free hand snakes its way into your sweatpants and panties. As his fingers finally reach your dripping sex you feel him moan against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You’re so wet for me already,” he notes as he slowly slides a finger inside of you. “Want you, need you,” is all you can keen as he drags his one finger torturously slowly inside of you. “Want me that bad love?” Hawks teases and your answering nod is almost frantic as he inserts another finger and takes careful note of the way you squirm. “Use your words,” he commands. “I want you so bad Hawks please,” you beg but even as he uses his thumb to lightly brush against your sensitive clit he still doesn’t budge. “I don’t know, you were so naughty teasing me so much in front of Mirko and your friends. Do you understand how turned on I was?” he asks but you can only whimper in response. You jerk your hips forward in desperate search of more friction or movement or something but all that accomplishes is Hawks using the hand not currently buried inside you to hold your hips still. “I want you to feel how turned on your little show made me little dove. Can you do that?” he asks. “Y-yes,” you moan before obediently reaching one hand out to feel his hardened length through his pants. God he’s so big, and it only emphasizes to you how much you want him inside you. “Not gonna get much done from there, little dove, don’t be shy. I want you to feel me, feel the cock you’re so fucking desperate for,” he growls, slowly dragging his fingers in and out of you to emphasize his point. It’s so good but it’s not nearly enough so you fumble with the belt and button of his pants until finally, finally you can slip your hand past the waistband and into his boxers to grasp firm hold of his weeping cock.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a devastating rhythm, your hands moving in sync to drive both of you towards your respective climaxes. Your moans echo around the small practice room and it’s music to Hawks’ ears. You’re close, so close, right on the precipice of orgasm when suddenly Hawks is leaning in to whisper into your ear a simple command: “Stop.” His hand stops moving and then he slowly extracts his fingers from inside you. You whine at the loss, pussy desperately clenching around nothing but you obediently stop your hand's movement. "Don't look so disappointed, I thought you wanted my dick," Hawks teases. "I do, fuck, I do," you groan. "Be specific. What do you want?" "I want your dick inside me, please Hawks I'm begging, I want it so bad," you whine. What a pretty sight you make squirming and whining for him. Hawks thinks he could watch you like this forever but even he is starting to get impatient so he decides to finally give you what you want. He shoves his own pants and boxers down low enough for his dick to spring out of its confines, the head flushed red and glistening with precum. Meanwhile his feathers push down your own sweatpants and panties as you watch him with half-lidded eyes, eager to finally feel his hardened length inside you. He has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and places his hands on your waist. "Hop up pretty girl," he commands and you eagerly obey, allowing him to lift you and then wrapping your legs around his waist to further support you weight. "Ready?" he asks. "God, yes Hawks please," you groan as he lines himself up with your waiting entrance. Hawks complies with an almost feral grin, wasting no time in shoving himself fully inside you. You groan as his thick length stretches you open but the slight burn feels so good as he fills you up. "You're doing so good for me, baby. So good," he praises and you practically purr your satisfaction. "P-please. Move," you moan and Hawks doesn't need to be told twice as he begins fucking into you in earnest. All words are lost between the two of you, the only language you need being the moans, groans, whimpers, and whines the two of you pull out of each other. As he drills into you harder and harder you rapidly feel yourself once again approaching climax. "Hawks I'm gonna-" you start but he cuts you off. "Me too baby, hold out a little longer and we'll cum together ok?" he ask. "Ok," you whimper, trying so hard to be good for him. Just a few long deep strokes later he finally gives you permission to cum and almost immediately you cry out his name, clenching and squeezing around him as he tumbles into his own climax. His groan is long and low as he spills his seed inside you and you relish each and every moment of it.

As the two of you finally come down from your highs Hawks carefully sets you back down on the ground. "Shit," he swears. "You can say that again," you laugh breathlessly. "Maybe I should invite you to more rehearsals from now on," you joke. "I'd much rather you give me a private show at my place," he replies easily. "I think I can make that work." "Good." "When would you like your first performance?" "How about now? You were just bragging about how much 'they' like it when you ride it. Time to put your money where your mouth is." "I'd like nothing more."

#ahh this took me so long to write and it ended up so long lmao #this probably could've been a one shot in retrospect but oh well #it's here now lmao #complete and utter filth I hope you enjoy #hhrequests #hawks smut #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x fem!reader #hopeless.olivia #hopeless.thirst

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tuanyiems · 3 years

Text

Ice Choco

Yugyeom x Reader (f) fluff x smut words: 4k plot: you’re nervous about spending the holidays with his parents, but you should be more nervous about the boy who can’t seem to take his hands off of you, established relationship!au christmas!au warnings – fingering, teasing, slow sex, unprotected sex, creampie, this one’s extra fluffy I think, it’s Christmas after all :’) a/n – Christmas came early hehe enjoy! part of Le Chocolatier drabble series, which you can find the masterlist for in my blog. feel free to read this as a one-shot or part of the series, in any order you want <3

You smile fondly at the twinkling fir tree, golden lights and sparkling red bulbs drape over its forest green body. Chocolate squares wrapped in silver foil that you and Yugyeom had hand wrapped yourselves hang on red ribbons throughout the tree. You pluck one off and pop it into your mouth. The peppermint chocolate melts on your tongue, coating your mouth in sweetness.

When Yugyeom first invited you to join his family for the holidays, you were anxious. It hadn’t even been three months since you started dating. You wondered if you were moving too fast. Would his family judge you? Would Yugyeom realize how awkward of a person you were? Would you be left sad and alone on your favorite holiday?

It was only after plenty of reassurance from Yugyeom that you decided to just go for it. You liked Yugyeom, a lot, and despite the short time you’ve been dating, every day has been full of happiness. And if his family was anything like Yugyeom, you would probably like them too.

And that’s how you found yourself here, in the Kim’s living room on Christmas Eve. Unlike what you had imagined, his parents welcomed you with open arms. You learned exactly where Yugyeom got his warmth and kindness.

And as if this moment couldn’t be more picturesque, a full moon hung in the night sky like a shining ornament.

“Pretty,” Mrs. Kim interjected, stepping beside you.

“It is,” you smile, looking out the window.

“No, I was talking about you dear,” she grins, squeezing your arm.

“O-oh,” you stutter, feeling your cheeks heat.

Laughing, Mrs. Kim tilts her head back the same way Yugyeom laughs when he’s teasing you. “Aren’t you a cutie! Yugyeom did good finding you.”

“T-thanks,” you sputter, not sure what to do with yourself. You fix at the red plaid pajamas the Kim’s gifted you with this morning. “I’m glad you invited me…or, well, I don’t know if you invited me. I don’t know if you knew about me. Maybe Yugyeom just brought me without notice. Oh, I hope he didn’t-”

Giggling, Mrs. Kim pulls you into a side hug.

“Sorry,” you apologize, taking a deep breath. “What I mean is, you’ve been so nice. I’m happy to spend the holidays with you and your whole family. Really, thank you.”

“Not at all,” Mrs. Kim scrunches her nose, smiling. “It’s nice to have another woman in the house. Tomorrow, my daughter-in-law will be joining us too!”

“I can’t wait to meet her and your eldest son!” You agree, “I’ve heard so many great things from Yugyeom.”

She nods, giving your arm another squeeze. “Yeah, Yugyeom dotes on his brother so much. But until then, you can use Euigyeom’s old bedroom. I’ve prepared fresh sheets so you can get a good night’s sleep.”

“Fresh sheets won’t feel as cozy as my bedsheets though,” Yugyeom interrupts, coming up beside his mother.

Your eyes widen at his comment.

Mrs. Kim frowns, slapping Yugyeom on the arm. “No babies until you two get married!”

Yugyeom laughs at his mom and when he sees your mortified face, laughs even harder. You aren’t even sure which part of her sentence to be more flustered about—the fact that his mom just insinuated you two possibly having sex under her roof or that you’ve been dating for less than three months and she was already considering marriage!

Your skin feels like hot lava and you wonder if you might even hive up from embarrassment. That would be a first.

“Oh, I think we broke her,” his mom chuckles.

“Honey,” Mr. Kim interrupts, resting his hands over Mrs. Kim’s shoulders. “Let’s head to bed and let the young one’s talk.”

He sends you a wink before ushering his wife into their bedroom. When you hear their door shut, you let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. Yugyeom chuckles softly beside you, patting you on the back.

“I told you, you had nothing to worry about,” he says. “My parents love you already. I think they love you more than they love me.”

“Impossible!” you scrunch your nose, but your lips curl up anyways. “This afternoon when I was helping your mom in the kitchen, she kept talking about all the awards you won in high school. Class president, co-president of the dance club, winner of the youth dance competition. How come you never talk about dance? What else are you hiding from me?”

Yugyeom’s eyes crinkle into half moon shapes. “I also won first prize in the science fair in primary school,” he grins, winking at you playfully. “Your man made a pretty mean volcano back in the day.”

“Oh wow, a volcano? That beats the boy I dated for his solar system model,” you joke.

He smirks, putting his arm around you, “Definitely an upgrade, babe.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll ask to see the baby photos,” you tease, leaning into his embrace as you poke his chest.

Yugyeom tilts his head cockily to the side. “Not to brag, but I was a pretty cute baby. Just a warning, but you might fall in love with me.”

You roll your eyes. A little too late for that, you think to yourself, but that is a confession for another day.

“We should probably clean up and head to bed soon,” you smile, pulling away.

“Don’t wanna see Santa?” he teases.

You chuckle, clearing the living room of the abandoned mugs and plates with the exception of one plate of chocolate chip cookies. “I think it’s cute that your mom still keeps out cookies.”

He smiles, helping you empty the dishes into the sink. “Back when we were kids, they’d wake up at midnight and eat the cookies too.”

Lips jutting out, you stare at Yugyeom with big doe eyes, completely endeared. He glances at you before chuckling and slipping on the bright pink dishwashing gloves.

“On the downside, I got bullied for being the only kid in the neighborhood who still believed in Santa,” he adds.

“Aww, poor baby,” you coo, brushing the stray hair out of his eyes. “Tell me their names, I’ll go beat them up for you.”

“Bambam,” he quips making you laugh.

“Sorry, Gyeom, you’re on your own.”

He chuckles. “S’alright, I had my mom fight that battle.”

You let out a deep breath, leaning your elbows on the center island of the kitchen and admire Yugyeom from behind. He’s only in a plain grey t-shirt and matching red plaid pajama pants, and yet, he still looks handsome. Your eyes travel across his broad back. There is the faint hint of his tattoo underneath the thin cotton material.

When you first saw Yugyeom’s back tattoo, you were surprised but also found it very fitting. Black ink bled wings across his shoulder blades. In a way, Yugyeom came into your life like an angel. Your guardian angel, he liked to joke, saving others from your clumsiness.

You scoff at the memory, making Yugyeom turn to you with narrowed eyes.

“What are you snickering about back there?”

“Nothing!” you squeak, pursing your lips together like a child caught red handed.

He looks at you for a moment longer before turning back to the dishes, smiling to himself.

“I was just thinking,” you finally add after a pause. “I really enjoy the relationship you have with your parents.”

You watch his shoulders lift and you imagine he’s smiling. “Yeah, they’re my best friends,” he tells you over the sound of the running faucet.

“I’m jealous,” you confess softly. You assume he doesn’t hear you.

Unlike Yugyeom, you grew up in a strict household. The only memories you have of your biological father were all associated with fear and while you got along with your mother, you weren’t exactly close either. Of course, the two of you loved each other as most families did, but after experiencing a marriage of struggle, as soon as you were of legal age, your mom went off to chase her own freedom. Back in your late teens, this had put a strain in your relationship, but now that you are older, with your perspective matured, you grew to understand your mom and you’re glad that she’s found a happier life of her own.

Now, the two of you can talk openly about the ups and downs of adulthood and womanhood and everything in between.

But this was why you weren’t spending the holidays with your own family. The two of you had decided a few years back that New Year’s would be for family, Christmas is for love and adventure.

You watch as your love and adventure turns off the faucet and shakes the pink gloves off his arms. “Done!” he declares triumphantly, turning to you now.

“Looks like you’re going to make the nice list this year,” you compliment, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He grins down at you, “How about you sneak into my room and we can both make the naughty list.”

Your eyes widen, feeling your cheeks flush at the thought. Yugyeom laughs, throwing his head back.

“I’m just kidding, don’t have a heart attack!”

Slapping his chest, you pout. “Let’s go to sleep. I’m going to need the energy to deal with you tomorrow.”

But when your head finally sinks into the fresh sheets Mrs. Kim had prepared for you, sleep never comes. After washing up and saying goodnight to Yugyeom, it was like all the exhaustion washed away too. You are wide awake when the clock hits midnight.

It’s probably because you’re in a new environment. It’s been a while since you last slept in a stranger’s bed. You haven’t even slept at Yugyeom’s place yet! You always go home before it gets too late, or it’s him staying at yours.

Anyways, the nerves of meeting Yugyeom’s family along with the new environment and the thrill of Christmas combined is probably what’s keeping you up.

Sitting up in bed, you decide to fix up a warm drink. That should calm you, right?

Slipping out of bed, you sneak out of your bedroom on tiptoes, twisting the doorknob so slowly one might think you’ve been frozen. One thing about the Kim’s house is how eerily quiet the whole place is. Unlike your apartment where everything seemed to buzz—the fridge, the walls, the ceiling, you name it—this house was cloaked in silence.

It feels like an eternity when you finally get the door open big enough to walk through. Looking both ways in the dark hallway, you make a turn and tiptoe your way into the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, you flick the island lights on, casting a dim spotlight at the center of the room. You squint, eyes adjusting to the lights before making your way towards the cabinets.

Helping Mrs. Kim with dinner this evening had paid off. You were already familiar with the kitchen setup.

Plucking a hot chocolate packet between two fingers, you swivel back to the island to boil the water. Pouring the brown powder into a mug, you let out a breath, waiting for the water to boil.

In the open window across from you, you are delighted to find a flurry of white illuminated by the dim light of a single lamppost. The snowflakes fall in fat clumps, as if in slow motion. The quiet realization that you will have a white Christmas after all, brings a soft smile to your lips.

“Hello, Santa,” a sudden voice breaks the silence, making you jump up in a silent shriek.

Standing in the shadows, at the doorway of the kitchen is a very amused Yugyeom, his hands clasped around his mouth to muffle his laughter.

“You scared me!” you whisper yell, one hand on your beating chest.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, not at all sorry, as he walks to your side behind the island. “What are you doing up anyways?”

“Making hot chocolate,” you explain, hands coming to fix at his bed head. “I couldn’t fall asleep. Want one?”

You’re already grabbing another packet from the cabinet before he can answer you.

“I can make you an ice choco,” you smile up at him, eyes forming crescents. They look shinier under the lights. He feels a flutter in his stomach.

Smiling quietly, Yugyeom nods. For a moment, the two of you stand in easy silence. Only the sound of the water boiler can be heard. Yugyeom’s eyes follow where yours are staring and his heart warms. You look so happy, it’s endearing. You must be the only person in this city who hasn’t been jaded from the snowstorms that hit every winter.

Coming from behind, Yugyeom wraps you in his arms, bending to rest his chin in the crook of your shoulder.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers into your ear, gazing out at the falling snow.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, turning, you hold his face in one palm and press a kiss to his cheek. He squeezes you tighter in his arms.

When the water boiler clicks off, water now hot and bubbling, you move to grab it but Yugyeom holds you tight, pulling you closer to his chest. You giggle softly, tilting your head at him curiously. He answers you with cold fingers sliding underneath your shirt. It sends you shivering all over.

“Yugyeom!” you squeak in surprise, making futile attempts to escape his grasp.

“I know something else we could do to get you sleepy,” he whispers, breath on the shell of your ear.

“Y-your parents are right down the hall!” you stutter, gulping back the whimper that threatens to escape your throat.

Yugyeom licks a stripe up the shell of your ear, “And sleeping.” You can feel his smirk against your ear.

“I-w-we can’t,” you whine, unconvincingly.

“But you want to,” he says matter-of-factly, hands sliding up your skin. You feel him inhale when his palms come around the supple flesh of your breasts. “No bra? You naughty girl.”

Your protests catch in your throat when he begins to knead at your breasts, rolling both nipples between his thumbs. You whimper, head falling back onto his shoulder at the sensation. His fingers brush against the sensitive buds gently, barely there. It makes your knees weak and your core throb with want.

Yugyeom presses himself into your back and you can feel him hard against you. “You don’t know how hard it was for me to control myself today. Do you know how many hard ons I had to hide from my parents?”

You break into a smile, grinding your ass harder into him. “Is that why you were hugging that throw pillow all day?”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” Yugyeom warns, pinching you between his thumbs. “I saw the way you were looking at me. I can read you like a book, baby. Bet you’re already wet.”

Yugyeom presses a kiss to your jawline before sucking down your throat. Your breath skips at the fluttering feeling. “G-gyeom, I-I can’t have hickeys.”

He groans softly against you, biting softly at your jugular before letting go. “You don’t get to call the shots, babe.”

The sternness of his voice makes you whimper, which he catches easily with his own lips on yours. Yugyeom kisses you roughly, tongue overpowering yours just the way you like it. When his hand dips down past the waistband of your pajama pants and panties at once, your eyes fall shut, relishing the sudden intrusion.

“Fucking wet,” he smirks, dipping two fingers between your folds. He gathers your slick, spreading it in circles around your sensitive bud. You whimper, knees going weak.

All too soon though, his hand leaves you, making you whine. He holds his fingers up in the light, admiring the glistening web of arousal. As if practiced, you open your mouth for him and he slides his fingers into your mouth. You whimper at the tang of yourself melting on your tongue.

“Tell me you want me,” he mutters, lids heavy as he slides his fingers in and out of your mouth. You run your tongue around his fingers expertly until you’ve licked him clean.

Yugyeom swallows, watching you suck on his fingers and imagines you sucking other things of his. The very thought makes him shiver. Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, letting you speak.

“Please Gyeom,” you whine, breathless. “I want you. Need you inside me already.”

It’s music to his ears and he wants to tease you more, but his patience has already run out. Having spent the better half of this day sporting blue balls, Yugyeom just wants to fuck you senseless.

It catches you by surprise when he slips his thumbs down your waistbands and pulls, leaving your ass bare behind the kitchen island. Before you can even feel embarrassed about the sudden exposure, Yugyeom’s finger are back on you, making you whimper while his other hand makes quick work with his own pants and boxers. His cock springs free, red and throbbing.

“You look so delicious like this,” he whispers into your ear, hands squeezing your ass. Oh, how he would have loved to slap your ass until you were red with his fingerprints. Biting his lips, he pushes his dick between your thighs instead.

“Ooh,” you let out a satisfied sigh, your clit rubbing along the length of his cock. Your thighs are soft and warm around his length, it’s unfair, Yugyeom thinks. Your pussy is weeping with desperation, the arousal drips down, coating his dick so that each time he thrusts between your legs, it is deliciously smooth. Everything about your body is heavenly, like it was made for him.

Already, you’re panting, a thick whine straining in your throat. His hot cock rutting between your thighs just teases at your sensitive bud. Your pussy lips clench around nothing and only succeeds in making the ache in your core more despairing.

“Gyeom, please,” you breathe out, hands coming up to run through his hair, your fingers thread around his black strands, before pulling into your fists. Yugyeom enjoys the ache in his scalp.

When he pulls his cock away, you almost yell out loud, lips pouting from the lost sensation. He answers you with a smirk, nudging his foot between yours, he forces your legs apart. Your hands grip at the counter for support, fingers pressing down hard when he slides two fingers into you without warning.

Immediately, you bite at your bottom lip, fighting the moan that threatens to escape you as he dips his fingers into you over and over, stretching at your velvety walls. His fingers are long and practiced, finding the rough, spongy patch inside you quickly.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the ghost of a whimper panting from your lips as he curls his fingers, sending shivers straight to your core. Over and over, he does this, until you’re tightening around his digits. All too soon, your knees are buckling, mind going numb from the sensation.

And then, he pulls out of you.

You gasp, eyes opening wide while Yugyeom chuckles darkly.

Before you can complain, he kisses your temple sweetly. “Not yet, baby,” he whispers soothingly.

You feel Yugyeom stepping closer between your legs and then the head of his cock teases at your entrance, sliding up and down your folds, spreading your slick on him.

You’re about to whine for him to stop teasing when you hear the creak of a door opening. Eyes widening, your heart jumps to your throat when the sound of footsteps shuffling against the floors, echoes like a blaring drum from down the dark hallway.

Your breath hitches when Yugyeom sinks his cock into you slowly. Your palm flies to your mouth, just as he slides all the way in, balls pressed to your ass. He leans into you so that his chest is hard-pressed against your back. You can feel his breath on your skin as his lips press against the nape of your neck.

The door of the bathroom opens and closes.

“Shh,” he mumbles against you, slowly pulling out of you. The friction is so delicious, you can’t help the whimper that muffles against your palm. “Wouldn’t want to get caught with my dick inside you…would you?”

He fucks into you, one hand coming to your throat at the sound of your muffled moan. He squeezes at your throat, softly at first. When he feels the way you clench around his cock, he bites into your shoulder, hiding his groan.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” he whispers into your ear, fingers tapping at your throat. You nod your head eagerly, rutting yourself onto his dick.

He bites at his lip, squeezing around your neck. At the sound of the water faucet running, Yugyeom ruts into you hard, his free hand coming to rub circles around your clit. You pant, breath constricting and eyes rolling. You love the way he fills you entirely. His slow thrusts hit you deep every time, keeping you at the edge of euphoria.

When the bathroom door opens, Yugyeom’s fingers rub at your bud even faster, sending your heart facing and electric currents straight to your core. You’re so close, it hurts. Tears brim at the corner of your eyes, your voice threatening to break as your ears strain to hear the footsteps coming closer.

You can feel your vein pulsing against your forehead as Yugyeom continues to thrust his cock into your sopping hole, sliding deep into your cunt.

The door of his parents’ bedroom squeaks like slow motion. Please, please go back to bed. Shut the door. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your own ear and Yugyeom’s stifled breathing.

And then you hear the click.

Yugyeom lets go of your throat to hold the edge of the counter instead and the air that invades your lungs while he fucks into you hard send you off the edge.

“Mmmmm,” a strained moan escapes your throat as you collapse onto the island, body jerking as your orgasm hits you in waves. Yugyeom continues his ministrations on your clit, his own balls straining at the way your pussy pulses around him, impossibly tight.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, rocking himself into you as you slowly come down from your high. He caresses your throat lovingly, placing soft kisses to your jawline until he’s spilling into you with a quiet groan.

You shiver, his moan tickling the shell of your ear as your pussy pulsed around his cock, sucking up each hot spurt of cum that shot into you.

“God,” he sighs, sweaty forehead pressing into your shoulder. He all but collapses on you. “I love you so much.”

Both you and Yugyeom freeze. His softened cock slips out of you and he rushes to help clean the cum that drips out of your pussy. Stumbling, Yugyeom haphazardly pulls the band of his pants back up while grabbing a towel from behind him.

You barely even notice the stickiness that drips down your thigh as Yugyeom wipes the damp towel across your skin. Instead, you stare down at his fluffy hair, a smile stretching across your face.

“Gyeom,” you say softly as he fixes your pants back up, still refusing to look at you. Your fingers thread through his hair softly, “Gyeom.”

When he tilts his head up, he looks so worried. You feel your heart squeeze.

“Gyeom,” you smile softly, helping him back up to his feet. “I love you too.”

He blinks like he’s heard you wrong. “You love me too?”

You nod, giggling now. “I do. A lot.”

Yugyeom pulls you into a kiss.

“You love me!” he repeats against your lips and then he is kissing you again until you are both giggling against each other.

#got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 imagines #kim yugyeom #got7 smut #fluff #christmas au #holiday au #fanfic #writing #got7 series #le chocolatier series

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years

Text

Healthy Competition [Tierna Davidson x Reader]

requested by anon: college tierna x ucla reader.

A/N: i got a lil carried away with this one... also feel free to send in any requests!! :))

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” You pout at your best friend, Mallory Pugh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I know, (Y/N/N), I’ll miss you too, but this is what’s best for me.”

At that, you’re silent because you know she’s right. Mal was too talented for UCLA and joining the Spirit was her best option. Although there had been speculation of you also going pro, especially after your performance in the U-20 World Cup, you decided to stay at UCLA one final year, hoping to win a national championship.

With one final hug, you say goodbye to Mal, as she enters the airport, departing for Washington DC.

—————

It had been a long and tough season, but with you up on top and Jessie in the middle, UCLA was now about to play in the NCAA championships against Stanford.

While the two schools were not the biggest rivals, your own personal rival played for the Cardinals: Tierna Davidson. She had been your greatest opponent since high school, as the two of you had been in the same division, even facing off in the state championships. Your positions, you being a right forward and her a left back, just added more fuel to the fire. For the past two years, as UCLA and Stanford exchanged wins and losses, the two of you had formed a rivalry, getting under each other’s skins like no one else could. The only times you two would get a long, or at least act pleasant, was when you played for the youth national team.

—————

With the biggest game of your life being only a couple of days away, your nerves were through the roof. You hadn’t been your bubbly self at practice; instead, you were stone cold serious, constantly snapping at your teammates and yelling out directions.

Jessie Fleming, your other best friend, noticing your change in behavior, pulls you aside at a pause in training.

“What, Jess?” You ask, exasperatedly. The younger midfielder takes in your appearance before continuing, noting the dark bags under your eyes and the deep lines in your forehead.

“Are you okay?” You go to open your mouth, but Jessie interrupts you. “And don’t you dare lie to me, (Y/N/N).”

You give a tired and defeated sigh, knowing you could tell your friend what’s been bothering you.

“I’m fine, J. I’ve just been so stressed about this game, you know how it is.” And Jessie did know how it was, not only from personal experience, being only 15 on the Canadian national team, but also from all the publicity this championship game had gotten. Based on the number of articles with your name in the headline she had seen, she knew that had been adding to your stress and affecting both your attitude and your play.

Jessie gives you an understanding look, putting her arm around your shoulder, as practicing was staring up again.

“Look, I know this is a big game for you, I do, but losing sleep over it and stressing about it isn’t gonna help you. And yelling at your teammates definitely isn’t gonna help.” She smirks. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and you’re gonna show the whole world who you are and why you’re going number one at next year’s draft.”

Smiling at the last statement, knowing your departure was still a sore subject for the midfielder, you lean your head on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Jessie. I really needed that.”

Jessie give you a smile in response. “Now, let’s get back to practice and get ready to kick Stanford’s ass.”

—————

Jessie’s pep talk had awoken something within you. That practice, you went back to your usual self, leading and working together with your teammates and putting the ball in the back of the net. In fact, you felt at the peak of your game, and your team was working like a well-oiled machine. You were feeling good about Saturday’s game.

—————

Despite the incredible practices you and your team had the days before, as you sit on the bus on the way to the stadium, you can’t contain the nerves that consume you. Jessie, knowing the telling signs of your nerves, the bounce of the knee and the long gaze, staring out the window with your music blaring, pulls out her phone to make a call.

Poking your arm, Jessie holds out her phone. Removing one of your headphones, you give her a puzzled look. Instead of an explanation, the midfielder just shakes her phone, waiting for you to take it. You hesitantly grab it, putting it up to your ear.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N),” You immediately recognize the scolding voice to be that of Mallory Pugh. Your eyes widen, turning to a smirking Jessie Fleming, not believing your friend had basically tattled on you to your other best friend. “You better get out of that head of yours and stop worrying about other people and what they’ll say or think of you. Just concentrate on what you can control, okay? You and the team have worked all season long to get to this point, so just go out there and do what you do best.” Mal continues her pep talk.

Nodding along to your best friend, you gain more and more confidence. “Thanks, Mal.”

“Of course, (Y/N/N). And know that win or lose, you’re still my best friend, and you’re a winner in my eyes.”

You roll your eyes at the cheesiness of her words, even though you secretly love it. “So you’re gonna be watching?” You ask sheepishly.

“OF COURSE!” Mal screams, and you have to pull the phone away from your ear due to the volume. “Do you think I’d miss my best friend win a championship?!”

You tuck your head in embarrassment. “We haven’t won yet.” You mumble, not wanting your best friend to get her hopes up, and more importantly, not wanting to let her down.

“Well, yeah, but I believe in you.” You can practically see Mal smiling through the phone.

“Thanks, Mal. It means a lot.”

“Of course. Look, I gotta run, but I’ll be watching!” You got to end the call, but before you can, you hear Mal’s voice one last time. “Wait! One last thing: don’t get too distracted by Davidson either.”

As Mal hangs up, your cheeks flush, and you hand Jessie’s phone back to her without meeting her eyes, knowing the younger girl had heard the last bit of your conversation.

Although you and Tierna had been rivals, you couldn’t help but developing a crush on the defender. The way she challenged you both on and off the field not only infuriated you, but it also attracted you to her. When you weren’t competing against her, you admired her play and the way she stayed composed no matter the situation. Though the media pitted the two of you against each other, it was hard for you to hate her, as she was probably the kindest person on earth, off the field that is.

“Mal teasing you about your little crush again?” Jessie gives you a cheeky smile.

“I don’t have a crush.” You grumble.

Jessie laughs in disbelief. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

You go to protest, but your friend is already getting up from her seat, as the bus comes to a stop. Jessie turns back to you. “We can talk about this later, but right now we have a game to win.”

You nod in all seriousness, forgetting about your nonexistent crush.

—————

It was about thirty minutes into the first half when Jessie slipped you a through ball, right past the outstretched foot of Tierna. With one touch, you set up your shot just inside the eighteen. To say your shot was an absolute beauty would be an understatement, as it curved around the goalie, perfectly place in the upper right corner.

Throwing your hands up in the air, you feel Jessie crashing into you. Pulling the midfielder into a hug, you have an ear splitting grin across your face. You celebrate with the rest of your teammates with more hugs and high fives. Before making your way back to the center circle, you pass the blonde defender, giving her a smirk and a wink.

“Better luck next time, Davidson.”

Although clearly frustrated, Tierna playfully rolls her eyes at your antics. “You’ll be lucky if there is a next time, (Y/L/N).”

You chuckle under your breath, as you jog away from her, ignoring the the butterflies in your stomach.

The first half came to an end, your lone goal being the only notable action.

As you were heading to the locker room, you could feel a certain blonde staring at you from across the field. The two of you lock eyes, Tierna giving you a small smile. You return a smile, the butterflies returning.

Jessie pulls you out of your daze, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, guiding you towards the locker room.

“C’mon Romeo, we’ve still got another half before you can go suck face with your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” You mumble.

—————

The beginning of the second half was pretty uneventful, until the Stanford freshman, Sophie Smith, broke through your back line. You could only watch, as she slipped a shot past your goalkeeper. Putting your hands on your knees, you hang your head, as the opposing team celebrates.

Jessie comes up behind you, patting your back. “C’mon, cap, there’s still plenty of time left in this game, and it’s only 1-1.” Recollecting yourself, you tap the ball forward, restarting the game.

—————

It was around the seventieth minute when you received a diagonal ball out on the right wing. Dribbling towards the corner, you looked up to the box, noticing Jessie had beaten her defender in the box. You take a long touch, hoping to out run Tierna. Getting to the ball first, you go to send the cross in, not noticing the blonde defender sliding in beneath you.

Despite making contact with the ball, effectively knocking it out of play, Tierna had also clipped your ankle. The tackle caused you to fall to the ground, grabbing your ankle in pain.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to contain your tears but with no success, as the pain is overbearing. You roll over onto your side, trying to distract yourself. Tierna kneels down next to you, wiping your hair from your face.

“(Y/N), you with me?” She gently grabs your hand.

You open your eyes, tears spilling down your face, and see Tierna with a worried look in her eyes.

“Had to injure me to win, Tierna?” You attempt to give her a cheeky grin, but you wince, as your ankle throbs.

She manages a small smile at your playfulness, even in pain. “The medical team is on their way.” Tierna squeezes your hand before getting up and letting your teammates and the trainers check up on you.

The trainers ask you a bunch of questions, and you affirm that you did hear a pop in your ankle. With the help of Jessie and one of the medical staff members, you limp off the field to the applause of the crowd. As you make your way back towards the locker room, you notice Tierna still glancing in your direction. Her eyebrows furrow, silently questioning if you’re okay. Although you were in an immense amount of pain and frustrated you couldn’t continue playing, you smile and throw her a thumbs up, not wanting to make her anymore guilty than she probably already feels.

—————

You laid back, as the trainer evaluated your ankle, moving it in different directions despite your grimaces and protests. Stuck back in the locker room, you were forced to watch the rest of the game on the monitor.

Holding your breath, you watch as Stanford takes a corner kick in the eighty-seventh minute. The ball knocks around in front of the goal, and you’re unable to see who kicks it in, but somehow the ball ends up in the back of the net, putting them ahead 2-1 with only a couple minutes left. You shut your eyes in disappointment, a fresh wave of tears overcoming with you. You barely register the trainer trying to get your attention, until he repeats your name once more.

“(Y/N),” He starts with a sympathetic look. “It looks like you completely tore one of the ligaments in your ankle and partially tore another. We’ll take you to get an MRI tomorrow just to clarify.”

You put your hands in your face, crushed from the disappointment of losing your final college game along with your injury. A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Removing your hands, you see Tierna Davidson peeking through the cracked open door.

The trainer gives you the details of your MRI appointment before exiting, leaving you and Tierna alone in the room.

Tierna comes to sit on the edge of treatment table, placing her hand on top of yours.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You sigh. The two of you sit in silence, not really know what to say.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt you at all. If I had known I would’ve clipped your ankle, I wouldn’t have—“

“Tierna.” You intertwine your fingers, interrupting her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Like you said, it was an accident. It’s part of the game.” You give her a reassuring smile. You laugh half-heartedly, “I’m more disappointed about the loss.”

Tierna doesn’t really know what to say at that, knowing there’s nothing she can say to make you feel better. You and her stay like that, with your hands together, for a couple of minutes, before Tierna once again breaks the silence.

“I have something to tell you.” She whispers. You watch her intently, moving to sit up.

The defender takes a deep breath before continuing. “I like you. I really like you. I have for a while now, and I know we’re always competing against each other, but there’s just something about you. And now that we’re not technically rivals or anything, with both of us going to NWSL, and hopefully the national team, maybe I could take you on a date sometime?”

You remain quiet, still processing the other woman’s confession that turned into a mini rant. Not really knowing what to say, you grab her face and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips melt together, and before you can deepen the kiss, Jessie bursts through the door.

“(Y/N), how are you— OH! Oh my gosh. I am so sorry! I’ll just go. Let me know when I can come in. I’ll just— sorry. Bye.” Jessie interrupts, before realizing what she’d walked in on, stumbling backwards out the door.

You giggle at you friend, resting your forehead against Tierna. She reaches her hand up to brush your baby hairs out of your eyes.

“So, about that date?”

You frown slightly. “Well, I’m a little incapacitated at the moment.” She rubs your noses together and then places a kiss on your cheek.

“That’s okay. I’m fine with anything as long as I’m with you.” Tierna gives you a cheeky smile.

Your heart swells at her corniness. “Me too.” You hum in agreement.

“So no more rivalry?” She asks, almost rhetorically.

You smirk. “Mmmm. I dunno about that. I’m still going number one in the draft.”

Tierna playfully growls at you before pulling you into another kiss. Laughing, you can’t help but feel grateful for the rivalry between you and the defender.

And what’s a good relationship without some healthy competition?

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #tierna davidson x reader #tierna davidson imagine #tierna davidson imagines #uswnt #tierna davidson

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aimee-maroux · 3 years

Text

I hope you had a joyful start into the holiday season 🕯️

This is the first scene from my November Patreon story, just some fun banter between Hermes and Apollon.

Chione

"Apollo and Mercurius [Hermes] are said to have slept the same night with Chione, daughter of Daedalion." Pseudo-Hyginus, Fabulae 200

Hermes followed Apollon's handsome servant into the god's bedroom. He had flown here with a burning question but the girl he had spotted bathing near Mount Parnassos had set alight a different fire. A petite beauty with shining eyes as dark as the night sky and long flaxen tresses. He had considered taking a detour but approaching a lady while bathing wasn't a very smart move. So he had continued on his way to the palace atop the peak of Mount Parnassos where his golden brother lived when he was not on Mount Olympos. Apollon hummed a melody, seated on the floor in front of a hole in the ground where he was working on a mosaic. Hermes had known the god of the arts for a long time and yet he was always amazed when he beheld the extraordinary beauty created by his skillful hands.

"Lord Apollon," the servant spoke softly, "Lord Hermes is here to see you."

Apollon looked up from his work with eyes the colour of a cloudless sky, a happy smile on his lips. He rose and Hermes flew into his arms for an embrace. Not that it had been long since they had last seen each other. Hermes always found one reason or another to drop by and if Apollon saw through the more flimsy excuses, he never said anything. Before the elder god even opened his mouth, Hermes blurtet:

"Brother! You won't believe the story I just heard in Messenia!"

"Get us a cup of nectar and some ambrosia for my brother," Apollon told his servant, then he turned to Hermes. "Sit down, little gossip, and tell me the story."

Hermes impatiently sat down on Apollon's bed, the wings on his sandals buzzing with excitement.

"I was helping the shepherds as I often do – you're going to love this – and as we sat around the camp fire passing bread and wine–"

"You stayed for mortal food? Hermes, I–"

"Shush! So I'm enjoying a simple rustic bread with watered wine when one of them says he heard a story from his older brother about Hermes and Apollon visiting the sacred grove of Karneios. So of course I ask him to tell the story."

"Of course."

"And he goes really quiet and says: 'Last year during the festival, Hermes and Apollon appeared in Messenia and wandered among the celebrants as they often do, unrecognised. Despite the loud music, the gods noticed the fearful cry of a lost lamb coming from the woods and, true to their nature, the keepers of the flocks followed it to bring it home. Only to find a shepherd boy, all by himself, trying desperately to protect the lamb from a wolf. The gods scared away the beast and, admiring the bravery of the shepherd boy, they both offered to lie with him beneath the stars. Wishing not to offend either of them, the shepherd boy asked if they would share his love like brothers and so Apollon and Hermes embraced him both and fulfilled their desire.'"

Apollon raised an eyebrow.

"That's what you came all the way from Messenia for? Some horny shepherd's fantasy?"

"Oh come on! You inspired it! You or one of the Muses!"

Apollon shrugged.

"It certainly wasn't me. What a load of bollocks."

"You totally fuck pretty shepherd boys, Apollon. Or have you already forgotten about Branchos?" Hermes nudged his brother with his elbow.

"I'm sorry, I don't recall the part where you swooped down from Olympos to join us in our love-making."

"Maybe deep down you wanted me there to help. That's why you inspired the Messenian shepherd to come up with that story."

"It's more likely one of my Muses developed an infatuation with you, wouldn't you say? It wasn't me."

"Could it have been unintentional? I'm you sure you were rock-hard setting every tile on that gorgeous mosaic." He nodded to the work in progress.

Apollon grinned.

"Someone is horny today."

"I knew it!"

"Not me. You."

Apollon's servant came in with a jug of nectar and two cups, followed by a girl with a platter ladden with ambrosia. They pulled the table from below Apollon's large bed and set out food and drink.

"If you came here for a tumble in the sheets, I have to disappoint you. But please, dig in."

Hermes didn't have to be told twice. The meals in Apollon's palace were always excellent. The god of the arts continued with his floor mosaic while Hermes ate, portraits of the Muses. Hermes thoughts wandered back to the bathing girl. If she had returned to her chambers, a linen robe covering her charms? When he returned, he would get her out of them with crafty words and tender hands. His lips would travel over smooth white skin, her sighs encouragement to be even bolder...

"I said: 'what other news from Messenia'?" Apollon said pointedly. Oh shit! Had he been talking all this time?

"Nothing much. A little help was needed with their livestock. I provided it," Hermes mumbled.

"It seems to me," Apollon said bluntly, "that your mind is somewhere else. Or your cock."

Hermes considered brushing it off with a lie but Apollon was vexingly good at seeing through them. So he put on a charming smile and said:

"Well, there is this girl..."

"I knew it."

"I spotted her on my way here. And on my way back..." He made an obscene gesture.

"Aha," Apollon said dryly. "Well, I have my sight set on a girl as well. Fair-cheeked Chione, the daughter of Daidalion, granddaughter of Eos' son the Evening Star. Beautiful golden hair, eyes as dark as the depths of Okeanos, and when I see her rosy arms I want nothing more than to hold her in my embrace. She doesn't live far from here, you may have seen her take a bath in the river around this time of day."

"Maybe I did." Hermes grinned. "I was lucky to catch my girl bathing."

"Just now?"

"Yes."

"What does she look like?"

"Blond, dark-eyed, petite... I guess we have similar taste. She looks exactly like you described the girl you fancy."

Apollon scowled.

"She is mine, Hermes, stay away from her."

"Yours? Did you get her with child or what do you mean?"

"You will not steal her away from me, do you hear me?"

"If you want her so badly, why haven't you taken her already."

Apollon was often enough rash with these things, all reason thrown to the wind.

"It wasn't the right time."

"Maybe for you it isn't. I plan on having a splendid time."

"Stay out of this, Hermes. I mean it." Apollon's voice had taken on a threatening tone that didn't sit well with Hermes. It meant that his brother was being serious and that playtime was over.

"That is so unfair! I saw her too. Why should you get to decide who takes her?"

"Because I'm the elder god and your older brother. We can have a contest for her, if you prefer losing on the race track again."

"You beat me ONE TIME. It was a fluke, I will gladly prove it to you!"

"Then run home to Olympos and get the stadion ready. There should be witnesses, don't you think?"

Hermes frowned. He couldn't wait to outrun Apollon in front of everyone. But if he left for Olympos now, he wouldn't get the chance to seduce Chione until after he had won, surely two days or more. He was horny now.

"Ooooor we could take inspiration from the mortals and, you know... share her? Like brothers?"

"Share her?" Apollon raised an eyebrow. "Are you already certain you will lose?"

Hermes rolled his eyes.

"No. But we could save ourselves the trouble of a competition. If you are willing."

"I suppose you can have her after I am done."

"No, I mean like..." Hermes put on his most charming smile. "Together."

"I see." Apollon seemed to deeply ponder the suggestion as if it were a tough mathematical problem.

"Look, it's very simple," Hermes interjected, "Instead of two partners, we will be three. So you get an extra partner to enjoy. Me."

Apollon looked down at him, his eyes soft.

"I know. I am working out the best way to go about it considering our difference in height and, well, size."

"So your answer is yes?"

"If you wait until tonight I shall be happy to go to bed with both of you."

"Deal!"

Apollon smiled.

"Await me after sunset."

"Oh by bountiful Gaia, I'm telling her! I'm telling her to work up an appetite because tonight, she gets double servings!"

~~~

Full story on my Patreon, including an explicit illustration by @roconita 🔥

In December, the story will be an Ikaros/Phaethon romance and there will be an article about the similarities of Christmas with the Roman Saturnalia.

Love, Aimée

#Hermes #Apollon #Aimée Maroux #Aimée Maroux story #patreon #Apollo

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redassassin · 3 years

Text

stars and butterflies

ao3

The whole Kingdom of Gatlon knew of their Princess. They knew of her wondrous speed, for she was fast enough to outrun even the four winds. Only Mercury, with his winged sandals, could best her in a race. Tales of her beauty and grace spread far from the lands of Gatlon, and suitors from miles around flooded the city in pursuit of her hand in marriage.

But Danna didn’t want to marry anyone, especially not a man. Especially not someone that treated her as a prize to be won. Her parents, insisting that she begin her search for a partner, allowed her to set up a contest. Anyone who beat her in a foot race across the beautiful green hills would be allowed her hand in marriage. It was the only means of choosing a partner that Danna would accept, despite her parent’s best efforts. They were holding on to the hope that someone, anyone , would miraculously beat her in the race and that they’d marry and have heirs to carry on the family legacy.

But Danna knew that was useless. No one could beat her, certainly not a man. She would make sure of it. Her parents, while not openly against her sexuality, were still hoping for an heir and a future king. They allowed women to participate in the race, but none caught her eye. They still saw her as a prize, a trophy to be won. She beat them all, watching as each hopeful face crossed the finish line, sweaty and gasping for breath, only to see their faces fall as they saw her before them, her coiled hair windswept and dark skin glistening in the sunlight.

After every race her parents would ask her if she was sure, if she didn’t want to talk to any of them in private, just to get to know them.

She always said no.

Nova scowled as Ace paced in circles, muttering on about his plan. Take back the castle. Kill the monarchs. Take over while everything was in disarray. His plotting was always like this. Full of holes, too dependent on everything going perfectly.

“Nova, you’ll have to infiltrate the castle. They know the rest of us too well, but you are still unknown. You are our only chance in succeeding.”

Nova rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt that, Uncle. There are two sides to a coin, and never only one way to do something. Besides, how do you expect me to infiltrate the castle? I doubt they’re hiring, and it’s unlikely that I’ll get close to the monarchs as a humble maid.”

Honey emerged from the doorway, a paper fluttering in her hand. She brandished it at Nova, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “The race, little nightmare. The Princess will hardly be able to resist you. Spend time together, learn the inner workings of the castle, perhaps make her fall in love with you, then betray and kill her.” She laughed, shoving the paper at Nova when she was met with a hesitant and somewhat disgusted frown. Nova took the paper, noticing the gold monarch butterflies embossed around the edges. The Princess was famous for her love of the orange and black butterflies, and was often seen sporting a gown or accessory inspired by them. She carefully folded the paper, tucking it into her pocket. “I highly doubt that she’ll just let me win, Honey. We need a backup plan.” She looked past Honey, towards a glittering gold speck.

The stars.

She stood up, walking across the room and scooping up a few of the gleaming gold spheres. Her father had made them, and although she’d never discovered their purpose, she would often pick them up, rolling them around in her hands. They emitted a pleasant sound as they ran into each other on her palm, a strangely melodic ring. She let go of most of them, letting them clatter back into the bowl they resided in, pocketing the three that remained in her grasp.

Honey smiled. “Good plan, Nightmare. Our perfect Princess won’t be able to resist such shiny objects.”

The day of the race arrived sooner than Nova anticipated. Dressed in her finest tunic, Nova made her way through the city streets towards the fields at the back of the palace, where throngs of people were already gathered, either to race for the hand of the Princess, or to watch the defeat of the participants. Honey was on her heels, disguised to the best of her ability to avoid any attention from the guards. Nova swept her hair back in a short ponytail, and stepped hesitantly towards the starting line. Honey pushed her gently, and Nova stumbled a little bit as she took her place at the line. Honey pulled some strands out of Nova’s ponytail, curling them slightly around her fingers and letting them fall down to frame Nova’s face. Nova squirmed away, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“It’s fine, Honey. It’ll just get messed up in the race.”

“Hush, Night- Nova.” She quickly corrected herself. “The Princess is watching.”

Honey jerked her head to the left, and Nova followed the gesture.

Princess Danna was beautiful. She sported a stunning white tunic and gold sandals, her hair tied back with ribbons and monarch clips. Nova felt her cheeks heat up, and quickly shook herself. She was there for revenge. She was there to win. It didn’t matter how the Princess’ graceful fingers brushed her hair from her eyes, or how her dark skin glowed under the bright midday sun. She looked away, determined to not be distracted by the Princess, but she was always drawn back to her. Danna looked around surveying all the different contestants, and met Nova’s gaze. She wanted to look away, but Nova felt herself being drawn in by Danna’s eyes. The Princess smiled a little and offered her a small wave, eyes twinkling. Nova tore her gaze away, turning away and focusing on the rolling hills before her.

Danna had awoken early that morning, spending the early hours of dawn out in the fields, practicing for the competition. Not that she needed practice. It was said that she was so swift on her feet, it was as if she had wings.

People started to arrive an hour before, spectators and competitors alike. Many gawked at her, others smirking or sauntering up to flirt their way into her good graces. She turned away from all of them, reminding every single one that her heart was only won from the race. Which was a lie. Her heart was not the prize won at this race. The true trophy was the title of Princess. Or prince, as her parents hoped. But she refused. She knew that no one would beat her, but she absolutely refused to be married to a man.

Danna distanced herself from the crowd, gathering a couple of guards to ensure her privacy. She watched the contestants, rolling her eyes at their smug smiles. They all thought they had a chance.

Something caught her eye. A short girl in a pretty tunic was pushed towards the starting line by an elaborately dressed older woman. The girl pushed her away, muttering to herself as she stalked to her place among the other racers. Danna watched her for some time, waiting for the girl to look towards her.

She finally looked up, and Danna’s breath hitched. Her hair framed her face beautifully, falling in perfect black waves. There was something indescribable on her face, like she didn’t want to be there. But that was silly. Everyone wanted to be there. Why compete for the hand of someone you didn’t want? Danna was intrigued. She smiled at the girl, offering her a small wave. A flash of surprise flickered over the girl’s face, but she didn’t smile back. She looked away, surveying the fields before them.

The warning bell rang out, signaling that there were 3 minutes until the race started. Danna shook out her limbs, preparing for her next win. She made her way down to the other contestants, eyeing the black-haired girl from before. Her face was determined, a hand reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Danna took a deep breath, closing her eyes as the bell chimed three more times and the race began.

#renegades #nobell #nova artino #danna bell #novanna #renegades fanfic #archenemies #supernova #renegades au #au #mythology #usereleanor #usersdiana

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Confrontation” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Things get heated at Blaine's first post-quarantine competition when his father and his old coach make a surprise visit. (2397 words)

Notes: Warning for homophobia. Blaine friendly.

Part 68 of Outside Edge.

Read on AO3.

"This is not happening... this is not happening... " Blaine mumbles, pacing back and forth, arms wrapped tight around his torso but carefully so as not to dislodge any of the hundreds of crystals Kurt had applied by hand to this new costume he'd made especially for him.

A costume so intricate and lovingly crafted that Sebastian turns green every time he's in its presence (even though Kurt has made him close to a dozen of his own).

"It's going to be all right," Kurt says, trying his best to calm Blaine down. He reaches out a hand to stop him but decides against it. He understands the pain of suffering from this level of anxiety. Standing still when you're about to rip out of your skin can be the worst feeling in the world.

"I'm not doing this... " Blaine decides, tapping his right fist against his left elbow. "I'm not---I'm not doing this... "

"Too late, champ," Sebastian teases, tucking his button-up into his slacks and joining the freak-out already in process. "You've already skated. No backing out now."

"No jokes!" Kurt hisses. "That's not what this is about!"

"Then what is it?" Sebastian asks, growing concerned when Blaine starts to curl in on himself. Sebastian steps in front of him, feeling a need to shield him from prying eyes wandering by. "I was in the can for all of three minutes. What in the hell happened?"

Kurt leans into Sebastian's side and whispers, "His father's here. And his old coach."

"What the fuck?" Sebastian turns in a circle, half looking for the men in question (even though he's never seen either, so he has no idea who he's looking for), but also searching for a place they can hide, get Blaine out of the public eye. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"I... I don't know. I don't know how they even knew I'd be here," Blaine replies.

"They'd had to have Googled you," Sebastian says, eyes darting back and forth over the crowd.

"Why would they do that? My dad said he never wanted to see me again! So what's the point?"

"I don't know," Sebastian admits. Would it be too much to ask that it's because the man actually cares about Blaine? Sebastian doesn't know a thing about him other than he punched his son and threw him out onto the street, so he can't answer that question, but from the outset, most signs point to no.

Sebastian hopes the man proves him wrong.

He isn't one for seeing the good in people. He'd rather believe that most are self-serving assholes, that way he's not disappointed when he's right. But this is Blaine's dad. And regardless of Sebastian feeling a bit jealous of his relationship with Kurt, Sebastian secretly prays that one day Blaine and his dad can make amends.

Sebastian spots a line of locker rooms, the doors painted to blend with the walls. They're about the size of the average closet, but hunkering down in a cramped room is better than waiting around for the inevitable. "Come on, guys. We can duck in there."

Kurt takes Blaine by the elbow as Sebastian leads the way, barking out a frustrated, "Excuse us. Excuse us," to the skaters yet to perform, who have opted to do their off-ice warm-ups smack dab in everyone else's way. Sebastian frowns when he remembers that used to be him once upon a time - constantly showing off, always in other people's space. His coach had told him it was an effective intimidation technique.

It's not.

It's just annoying.

Blaine sighs as they reach the blue metal door, relief in sight.

It turns out to be premature.

"Still under rotating those triples, I see."

Blaine sighs again, but this time it's a sound of utter defeat, and something inside Kurt snaps. He whirls around, putting himself between Blaine and whoever might be behind them, saying, "Don't you have anything nice to say?" before he comes face to face with two older men trying way too hard to appear important in their expensively tailored wool suits, out-of-place with everyone else around them bundled up in jeans, sweaters, and puff jackets. They can't even wear simple cloth masks, opting for those overpriced dome things constructed of 'space-age materials', clear so people can see the entirety of the wearer's face.

From the corner of his eye, Kurt sees Blaine turn slowly, as if he would rather be anywhere but here, which sucks because Blaine had an amazing skate! A skate Nathan Chen would have been proud of! But that's about to be ruined by the presence of these two a-holes!

"Nice about what?" the same man retorts, and even though that sounds like the sort of remark one would expect a coach to make, Kurt just knows that this man - with the same dark hair as Blaine's, glued to his scalp with a tremendous amount of product, sucking in his lower lip as he grins - has to be his dad. "His lackluster choreography? His offensive song choice? This fruity costume? Or those skates?" He pops his lower lip in disgust as he gestures down to the black Edea skates Kurt customized with rainbow crystals. "Jesus, Blaine! Why don't you carry one of those rainbow flags out on the ice with you! Or tattoo one to your face! That way everyone knows!"

"Most people already do!" Blaine argues, surprising his friends. But it delights Sebastian more. Despite his 'dapper charm' that he lays on thick as oatmeal, Sebastian suspected Blaine couldn't be as meek as he seemed around him and Kurt. Looks like he was right. "And guess what? No one seems to have a problem with it! And if they do, they have the courtesy to keep it to themselves!"

"That's because you're a figure skater. You're surrounded by gays, aren't you?" he snarks, shooting a pointed glance at Kurt. Blaine's old coach (Simon, if Kurt remembers correctly - supposedly a huge deal though Kurt has never heard of him), who has yet to say anything, has the dignity to look embarrassed by Mr. Anderson over that remark.

"Has he always been this much of an ass?" Sebastian seethes. "Or is he doing this for our benefit?

Blaine's first instinct is to defend him, even after everything the man has done. He is his father after all. But he stops himself, gives Sebastian's question a solid think.

And his answer is yes.

Yes, he has.

He's always been an ass. To him and, to a lesser extent, his mother. Nothing has ever been good enough for him. Gold medals, sponsorships, scholarships, endorsements - not a single thing that has come from Blaine's skating has his father ever been proud of.

"What you see is what you get," Blaine says diplomatically. Mr. Anderson's thin-lipped grin drops like a lead weight, and Kurt snickers.

"Your edges have improved," Simon puts in haughtily. "Don't know how that happened."

"It's called practice," Kurt says, "dedication... and the perks of finding a better, more supportive coaching team."

Simon's eyes travel from Kurt's face to a smug Sebastian, and the man rolls his eyes. "I'll bet."

"So, is this what you gave your family up for?" Mr. Anderson asks, waving a hand towards Kurt so vehemently he nearly smacks him. "Or are you still waiting in the wings?"

Blaine's cheeks burn, speechless that his father held on to those words he overheard and is now throwing them in his face, especially since he never told Kurt about the phone call that got him kicked out. Not entirely. And as far as he knew, Sebastian hasn't either, confirmed by the confusion on Kurt's face.

"You're talking to your son," Sebastian growls. "You haven't seen him in over a year, haven't talked to him during a global pandemic even once to find out whether or not he's okay. He just won his second gold medal of the night. But you're stomping over here like you have every right, and all you care about is his sex life?"

Mr. Anderson raises a stern finger. "This doesn't concern you."

"Yes, it does! Because after you pulled your little homophobic stunt and blackened his eye, he started living with me. In my house." Sebastian stops himself from clarifying further when he notices they're attracting attention. He didn't mean to out Blaine's abuse. Sebastian had no right to let that slip. But with the tunnel of red obscuring his vision, he'd started to forget there's anyone else around. He's got to apologize but now isn't the time. "He owes me nothing. Happy to have him. But you? You owe me plenty."

"What?" Mr. Anderson scoffs. "Do you want me to write you a check?"

"No. But a little gratitude, knowing that your son was in good hands this entire time, might be nice."

Mr. Anderson laughs through his nose. It's as unattractive as it sounds. "Never happening. I offered to take him back. He felt he knew better. If Blaine chooses to live in a den of sin, that's his business."

Sebastian shakes his head in disbelief. Blaine's father isn't talking about pre-marital sex. Hell, if Blaine was kicking it with some busty blonde cheerleader this whole time, his dad would probably be ecstatic.

He's referring to the fact that the three of them are gay.

Some people.

Well, if he wants to be an epic jackhole, fine. Two can play at that game.

"You know, since you're so concerned with who your son is being intimate with, since that matters so much to you, it might interest you to know that he's not just screwing Kurt here. He's fucking me as well." Sebastian pauses, lets those words sink in, and soaks in the delicious fallout. He doesn't know whose reaction he likes better - the men in front of him scowling like he farted in their masks, or the boys standing beside him, staring at him wide-eyed and growing pale. "Oh yeah," Sebastian continues, fueled by the conflicted awe in Kurt's eyes specifically. "The three-ways are plentiful, in every position."

"You... you little liar!"

Sebastian shrugs. "I mean, that's what it's all about, right? What do you think's been going on at my house while he's been living there? He's gotta pay the rent somehow."

"You're disgusting!" Mr. Anderson sneers.

"You're one to talk - a middle-aged man whose only concern about his son's welfare is where he sticks his dick! Give this a lot of thought, do ya? Talk about it over dinner and shit?"

Mr. Anderson takes a step forward. Blaine and Kurt take a reflexive step back - social distancing and all. But Sebastian doesn't budge. "You listen here, you... !"

"Is there a problem?" a man dressed in a red, white, and blue windbreaker emblazoned with the name of the rink they're in, asks. They'd been so engrossed in this pissing contest, no one noticed the man cut through the crowd to reach them. Mr. Anderson steps back, aggressively straightening his jacket. Kurt thinks he hears a seam pop, and he flinches on behalf of a thousand-dollar sports coat.

"No," Mr. Anderson answers quickly, annoyed by the interruption. "No problem."

Seeing a way to put an easy end to this, Sebastian speaks up. "Actually, there is. These men aren't coaches or skaters. And they're harassing us. So could you please... ?"

Mr. Anderson chuckles. "Right. Good luck with that. I have no intention of going anywhere."

The attendant shakes his head. "I'm sorry but... " He turns to Mr. Anderson "... I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave. We need to keep this area clear."

Mr. Anderson's eyelids narrow to slits. "What?"

"We have a capacity limit." The man points to a sign posted nearby. Neither Mr. Anderson nor Simon looks. "Skaters and coaches only. Everyone else has to go back to the bleachers."

"Are you kidding me!?"

"Unless you have a pass... "

Mr. Anderson looks at the three boys. They lift laminated tags attached to lanyards hanging around their necks. Blaine's says 'Skater' in neon green letters, Kurt's says 'Assistant Coach' in bright orange, and Sebastian's says 'Coach' in yellow. Mr. Anderson and Simon have no such lanyards.

Technically, they don't even have tickets to the event.

Simon used the clout he has left to get them this far.

"I'll have to call security if you don't leave," the man interjects, reaching for his walkie.

Mr. Anderson sniffs, tries to retain his composure, but he's not a man used to taking no for an answer.

Or being bested by teenagers.

"I'll be seeing you boys again," he says low, like a threat.

"Absolutely!" Sebastian says. "Stop by Westerville Ice-plex anytime so my uncle can serve you that restraining order Blaine should have filed the first time around!"

Mr. Anderson doesn't look the least bit amused when rink staff leads him away, glaring venomously at them over his shoulder as he's escorted to the double doors. The three watch, waiting till he's completely out of sight before they breathe easy again.

"That was fun," Blaine says brightly, trying to make light of this newly tense situation.

"Loads," Kurt agrees.

"I'm so sorry about that. He had no right to talk to you guys like that. Especially you, Kurt."

Kurt smiles. It gets lost behind his faux Chanel mask, but luckily it reaches his eyes. "You don't need to apologize."

"Look, Blaine," Sebastian starts, "I'm really sorry for bringing up... "

"Don't worry about it," Blaine cuts in. He'd happily forgotten about that. He wants to drop it. "It shouldn't be a secret. That's how people like him get away with doing what he did."

"Still, it was kind of shitty."

"Yeah, but that wasn't your fault."

Sebastian puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. It's the closest thing to a hug he can offer.

"Come on." Kurt puts his hand over Sebastian's. "Let's go get Blaine's medals and head home, hmm?"

"Sounds like a plan." Blaine turns to Sebastian, disarming mischief in his hazel eyes. "So... about that three-way... "

"You mean you, leftie, and rightie?" Sebastian winds a possessive arm around his boyfriend and ushers him quickly through the crowd towards the medal stand. "Be sure to tell us all about it in the morning."

#Kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #kurt hummel #figure skating #blaine anderson

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Text

REQUEST: Can you do a scenario where lev meets his s/o because she playing the piano or singing. Thank you. Love your writing.❤️

A/N: Thank you for requesting!! Ok Sasha storytime 😳😳 I used to be in a piano class since I was 5 (I quit, but I still play just for fun). And I joined this competition when I was 9 and got selected as one of the finalists - and I was so fucking surprised bc jesus, I play averagely for all I can say... I’m not the best, but I’m definitely not the worst. But there was this messed up system where more familiar faces/winners would definitely be chosen. And despite some other kids messing up a lot, the MCs removed me first bc “Sorry, no one knows you around here. You played better than some others, but maybe if you talked more, you could win. No one really wants a winner they’re not familiar with.” I couldn’t really say anything. I knew they were right. So I left with a Certificate of Participation and not even proof that the judges chose me as a finalist. THIS particular event got me so fucked up for so long that I tried to get myself sick/injured so that I wouldn’t have to go to my piano classes for 4 weeks straight. Eventually, I pulled out after my exam and started playing for myself, with the songs that I enjoy, whenever I want. So,,, fuck those MCs and my teacher, I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me 😎 *plays Superbass by Nicki Minaj* FEM!READER BELOW

duende. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev has no sense of direction, but finds a lone sugarplum fairy along the way.

word count: 2438

warnings: none

(n.) the feeling of profound awe experienced when viewing a piece of art, watching a performance or listening to music that has deeply moved a person

It’s difficult to tell precisely... but Lev was definitely lost.

It wasn’t his fault the school had to be so large! What’s the point of having so much staircases when they weren’t going to lead to one conjoined hallway? It was like a maze, except Lev knew he wasn’t getting anywhere near a familiar area.

Crap! he cursed, pawing nervously at his empty pant pocket. I left my phone in the clubroom.

Light was already fading from the west-side window and he hadn’t come across anyone for the past 15 minutes. He recalled something Taketora said about a part of the school being dead deserted. Was this that place? He couldn’t tell.

He was getting impatient. If Lev didn’t hurry up and submit his additional worksheets to Sakamatsu-sensei before sundown, it was over. Goodbye to the club’s training camp. Goodbye to becoming the greatest ace Nekoma has ever had. Goodbye to everything he ever cared about.

Instinct taking over, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him and called out to the empty hallways for someone. Anyone. “Hello?! Sakamatsu-sensei...?!”

And when the vacant corridors replied back to him, Lev stilled, frozen.

“...Piano?”

Alisa had told him something about ghosts once. It was right after she’d gone out to watch some horror movie with her friends. Lev couldn’t remember exactly her words, but his sister had “slept” with her eyes open that night and he wondered if he should be taking her advice seriously.

But this didn’t sound like a ghost. Something that sounded so beautiful wouldn’t have any murderous intention behind it... right?

The melody reminded Lev of those old ballets his grandmother would play on TV when she visited. Every glissando a delicate spin by one of the performers, and every perky note a tiny leap. He could almost see them, those beautiful dancers, and Lev wondered—if he were to trace the music to its source, would he find a charming sugarplum fairy waiting for him?

His feet were already ahead of his thoughts. Lev couldn’t even tell where he was in the gallery of clubrooms. His senses of direction numbed, he relied on his ears and the sweet, sweet melody of the piano that was getting warmer. And warmer. Warmer.

Hot.

“Or...chestra Club?” he read out, the placard’s kanji wrapping itself around his head. Peering through the rectangular window of the doors, Lev zeroed in on the bareness of the room, save for the large grand piano settled in the center.

This is the place... right? he thought, retreating slowly. No one’s here.

Looking around for good measure, Lev scratched his head. Ah, geez, I don’t even know where I am anymore. He reconsidered throwing away his curiosity and return to his quest for the third year’s Teacher’s Room before his Biology teacher could scold him for his incompetence. But the little fluff of hair peeking out from behind the piano swayed him over and he didn’t even stop to think when he barged through the doors.

“Fairy!”

The girl who squeaked in shock really did convince Lev for a millisecond that she was a fairy. Straight out of that stage his TV had replayed for him. Tiny in stature, eyes shining like morning dewdrops and fingers pressed again the white keys, thin and graceful as if you were producing magic. All excluding the lack of a pair of shimmering wings sprouted on her back, you were an enigma in this barren universe.

“I’m human,” you said, voice like air. Breezing and pushing like wind.

Lev approached the center of the room, speculating if your glamour would disappear if he were to come closer. “T-That song you played. That was from a ballet, right?”

“It’s Tchaikovsky,” you replied bluntly, grinning. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before, can’t recall... We’re not too familiar, but you’re awfully rude for a first year, aren’t you? At least address me with the proper suffixes if you’re going to assume my species like that, Giant-kun.”

Speak for yourself! he thought, becoming more and more amused by this fanciful person. “I mean, you don’t look like a high school student either—”

You, completely ignoring him, returned your attention the piano, playing another song. This one faster, more fluid. Seeing your hands up-close, Lev eyed the muted details of your hand. A gentle blush on its skin, illuminated by the sunlight from the large window sitting ajar. His sister would kill to have a hint at your manicure routine.

So this is what a pianist’s hands looks like.

“Oh, I remember now,” hands coming to a rest on your skirt, the fairy girl turned to him, as elegant as ever. Now that the room was silent, there was a nervousness that lingered in the air. “You’re one of Kuroo’s boys, aren’t you?”

Hearing the familiar name of the no-nonsense captain of the Volleyball Club, Lev perked up, “You know Kuroo-san?”

“Of course, we’re in the same class after all.”

Same class. That would mean—no way!

“Y-you’re older than me?!”

You gave him a bright smile. Added to your fairy-like personage, Lev couldn’t help but to notice that this upperclassman of his was aware of his existence. There was actually a girl—who was awfully cute and just his type if he thought about it—in this godforsaken school who knew about Nekoma’s ‘ace’, Haiba Lev.

This was a dream, right? No, he shouldn’t be saying such a thing. In fact, Lev had gotten so engrossed in this reality that he didn’t realize how much he was staring into your beautiful face before you piped up again.

“Oh, it’s almost time for me to lock up. I forgot to ask, did you need anything when you came in here?”

Wait, what time is it?!

Lev let out a strangled noise between a dying boar and a tearful sob. Collapsing on the floor before his worried senpai, he squeezed the papers in his hand. Oh, it was over now. Over, over, over. Hello wretched make-up exam, goodbye glorious training camp...

Kneeling down next to him, you peeked at his wincing face. “H-hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Raising his head to look into your swirling eyes, Lev pursed his lips. Damn, you were totally going to think he was uncool after this. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he lowered his head in a bow.

“Senpai, could you show me the way to the third year’s teacher’s room? I’ve got an assignment to submit before 5 pm and I don’t know where I am! Please, senpai, I need to—”

No more words were exchanged when you grabbed Lev’s collosal hands in your delicate ones and dragged him through the door. You sped and hurtled down the corridors, bringing him along with you in this strange joyride. It was a funny sensation, similar to being towed around a park by a wild dog on a leash—except you weren’t a dog, but simply a shorter person whose size reminded him a bit of Yaku-san...

“S-Senpai—?!” he wheezed out, long legs pedalling in front of him. For someone nearly half his height, you were really fast; he wondered if you should’ve went for the Track and Field Club instead of the Orchestra Club.

Just as he had thought of letting go before you became a physical hazard to him, you skid to a halt in front of a door. Panting, you smiled up at him. “Here we are. Y-You’re not late, right?”

Eyes darting between the doors to the teacher’s office and you, the burning intention of a hug fuzzed out Lev’s brain—unfortunately, that would have to wait until later. Shoving the door open, he dashed inside the near-empty office and handed over his pile of crumpled assignments to the jaded Sakamatsu-sensei, face red.

Filing through the papers, the Biology teacher griped. “Well, all the assignments I asked for you to do are here... I’ll inform the Volleyball Club supervisor that you’ll be able to join the training camp this weekend.”

Saved. He was saved.

Exiting the office, he bowed before you—his fairy godmother—and murmured. “Thank you, senpai! You saved my life... ”

“Y-You’re welcome,” you said. “But I don’t think I went as far as “saving your life”, um... what was your name?”

“Haiba! Haiba Lev. Thank you so much!”

When you giggled, Lev heard the choirs of angels fill his head. God, he really wanted to hug you, stuff you in his pocket and bring you home with him to coo at and cuddle.

“The pleasure is mine, Haiba-kun. You’re an interesting person, you know? I’m glad we met.”

Lev really felt like he’d won the lottery. Was this finally his chance? Was he going to get a super cute, older girlfriend before his intolerable seniors? Unthinkable! Yet here he was, indulging in the soft smile of Nekoma’s resident sugarplum fairy, as if his entire gag reel of clumsy flukes never existed.

“Ah! I forgot to lock the doors to the clubroom!” you yelped. Even in panic, Lev thought you looked cute. “It was nice getting to know you, Haiba-kun. The main staircase is right over there, so you’ll be able to get back without getting lost. Be safe!”

Before he could offer his hand in accompanying you—at least being next to you for as long as possible—you had already sped off into an indistinct corner, the amber light of sundown fading with your shadow. And once again, Lev was alone.

Damn. He didn’t even ask for your name.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“You’re asking me... if I know a girl in my class called ‘Fairy-senpai’?”

The gaze in Lev’s green eyes were resolute. “Yes.”

Kuroo sighed, wiping off his sweat with a towel. Day by day, he swore, the first-years were getting more and more difficult to deal with. “Someone named Fairy who hangs around in that derelict part of the third floor sounds shady as hell. And what club did you say she was from?”

“Orchestra Club.”

“We have an Orchestra Club?”

Lev was getting nowhere with the rooster-headed captain; it was either that, or Kuroo was intentionally leading him to a dead-end out of sheer mischief. Anything could happen with him.

It had been a total of 18 hours since he’d last seen you, and Lev’s head had never felt any emptier. He’d startled his parents and Alisa enough by playing one of his grandmother’s ballet DVDs once he’d arrived home. But it wasn’t the same. Even the visual movements of the ballerinas and the skill of the ensemble didn’t amount to your solo rendition.

Yours was more natural, more sturdy. Something he could feel and see without opening his eyes or reaching out to it. Smitten with your performance, Lev slept that night, head filled with the thought of seeing you again, his little sugarplum fairy in the maze of doors and desolation. And maybe, he’d even get your number this time.

“She’s really good at the piano and has a twinkly smile. Fairy-senpai is a bit short too, really tiny,” Lev hesitated to continue, looking around for safety “... A bit like Yaku-san’s height.”

“What’s this I hear about my height? Hey, Lev! Why aren’t you practicing your digging receives?!”

Wincing at the stinging kick thrown at his back, Lev pouted miserably. Watching the poor behemoth being dragged away by the demonic upperclassman, an implausible feeling of pity struck through Kuroo, and he called out for the libero.

“A cute girl who looks like a fairy, can play the piano and is in the Orchestra Club? In our class?” Yaku repeated after Lev and Kuroo’s explanation. Tapping his chin in deep thought, he replied dubiously. “Doesn’t that sound a bit like L/N-san to you?”

“Ehh? L/N-chan can play the piano? I never knew that.”

Yaku clicked his tongue indignantly. “That’s because you barely talk to her. Maybe if you attended cleaning duty properly, you would’ve realized that when you’re paired up with her.”

The sound of his seniors bickering was already white noise to him. L/N. Repeating the syllables on his tongue, Lev tasted a sugary relish linger in his mouth. What a beautiful name. A fitting name, and suddenly, he already sensed that your first name would be just as wonderful.

“Though I’m impressed that you managed to get a full conversation out of L/N-san. Did you scare her or something?” Yaku snickered at Lev’s unappreciative scowl. “It’s just that L/N-san only says something when she’s required to. Otherwise... she’s really quiet. I’ve only heard her say ‘thank you’, ‘I’m sorry’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ for the past three years, everything else we know about her comes from gossip.”

Lev’s chest swelled up and he smirked. “Maybe she likes younger guys like me.”

“I think she likes you because you’ve got nothing going on in your head at all,” the team captain scoffed attracting the giggles of his surrounding teammates. “You are right though, Lev. L/N-chan is a really cute person... I might get interested one of these days.”

“H-Huh?! C’mon, Kuroo-san! I’ve got dibs on her first!”

Nearly there, the captain thought. Lev’s ears were already burning red, a clear sign of his impulsive outburst. And when the timing was right, the Volleyball Club loved to use his recklessness for profit.

Crossing his arms in faux doubt, Kuroo shrugged. “I don’t know... I highly doubt you’ll attract her attention if you’re not even a regular on the team...”

Furrowing his brows deeply, Lev snatched a ball from the ground and stared deeply into the captain’s lacklustre eyes. “I-I’ll show you! I’ll become a regular on the team and the ace! That’s why I’m going to go practice right now, right, Yaku-san?!”

Even Yaku, completely amused and alarmed, had to do a double take. “R-Right... Do your best then.”

“I will!”

Chuckling at Lev’s shrinking back, Kuroo patted himself on the back for a job well done. Kenma, who had watched the entire nasty exchange go down, was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Weakly punching his childhood friend on his shoulder, he grumbled. “Great... Now that he’s fired up about some girl, he’ll keep asking me for more tosses. Kuroo, if I pass out because of your ‘encouragement’, you’re paying for my health insurance.”

Lev couldn’t hear the new conversation happening between the team’s setter and the captain, but that didn’t matter right now. He was going to practice, become better, then the best. Then ask you out, his sugarplum fairy in the third floor’s Orchestra Club clubroom. Lev felt invincible.

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xxxrubytuesdayxxx · 3 years

Text

If you tell Taehyung you’re in love with Jeongguk...

Word Count: 2,090

Disclaimer: This is part (55) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

Start here:

“Well...I mean...I don’t...I’m not sure how he feels,” you mumble, self-consciously. “But I’m…” You clear your throat nervously. “I’m in love with him,” you finish in a helpless whisper.

“Oh. Okay,” Tae mutters. “Sorry I...you know...” he adds, blushing. He stands to leave, bowing his head slightly in deference.

“It’s okay!” you tell him quickly, reaching instinctively to take his hand. He gives you a small, sad smile, squeezes your hand gently and sighs deeply. “I’m sorry,” you plead. He shakes his head and gently releases your hand.

“Can we just forget it happened?” he asks you softly. You nod quickly, sending him another smile and patting the couch next to you.

“Of course! Let’s finish watching this,” you suggest. “I was enjoying your company. I always enjoy your company Tae-ssi,” you tell him, as desperate as he is to return things to ‘normal’. He smiles gratefully and sits back down, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in ages. Your mind flashes back to the last time you had to tell someone you had feelings for them and it was unrequited. Your warm feelings towards Tae grow and you squeeze his arm companionably. He gives you one of his boxy smiles and passes you the popcorn.

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

“Billiards?” you repeat, confused. Jimin is enthusiastically explaining the concept for their next teaser.

“I’m good at billiards,” he huffs.

“I’m sure you are,” you reassure him hastily. “But...why?” you interrupt yourself, sure you won’t get a sensible answer, even if you ask the question.

“Why what?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. You fumble for a plausible question.

“Why the retro clothes?” you try.

“Oh!” Jimin obviously buys your slight tweak of question.

“It’s for the Dynamite concept,” he grins. You nod in understanding and gesture to him to go ahead of you into the repurposed gaming hall. None of that explains why he’s wearing an ajumma-style floral headscarf but okay. All of this means you’re thoroughly unprepared for Jeongguk in dangerous black with a hint of animal print at his collar and a black-and-silver belt cinching his immaculate waist. And from the look he gives you he knows how good he looks as well.

“We’re playing billiards,” he tells you excitedly.

“Uh yeah...Jimin...told me…” you stammer, trying to keep your voice level. Jeongguk preens at your obvious infatuation with him.

“He used to play at school. He was in a club and everything,” he updates you on Jimin’s billiards qualifications. You rearrange your expression to look suitably impressed. This seems to make Jeongguk agitated.

“I’m going to beat him though,” he brags, sulky.

“Oh really?” you tease, back on safe ground now that he’s in his usual competitive mode and you can rib him a little. He nods, tossing his hair just a little and pats habitually at his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Yup,” he confirms, twirling his pool cue confidently.

“Are you taking bets?” you needle him. He pouts at you in aegyo. You roll your eyes and tell him you’ll bet on Jimin if he doesn’t name his price. His eyes widen in genuine shock. He darts a glance at the rest of Bangtan, milling around the hall and watching the camera crew set up. You follow his eyeline, so you don’t notice him lean into you until you smell his cologne and turn your head, bringing you almost kissing distance to his lips. He smiles kittenishly.

“If I win, will you come on a date with me?” he purrs in your ear.

“Wha...what if Jimin wins?” you stammer, completely taken by surprise. His eyes narrow as if the proposition is offensive.

“You can take me on a date to cheer me up,” he mutters sullenly. You swallow hard, trying to read the look in his eyes.

“So let me get this straight...If you win, you’ll take me on a date?” he nods, eyes lighting up again at the question. “And if you lose, I take you on a date?” Another nod. “So what you’re trying to tell me...as I understand it…is that you want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” he breathes, barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” you agree, not daring to move any closer to him or even touch his hand despite the fact that his eyes are devouring you and your skin is tingling irresistibly under his heated gaze.

Turns out the game is more of a photo opp so there isn’t really a winner, but there is a general consensus that everyone is impressed with Jimin’s playing and that Jeongguk, as always, picks it up very quickly. The others drift off once the shoot is over, awaiting permission to leave. You sidle over to a rather glum Jeongguk, leaning against the abandoned billiards table.

“I guess nobody won,” you observe. He grunts in acknowledgement of your statement, pouting moodily at the floor. “So I guess we’ll have to put a raincheck on that date,” you tease him, slipping your hand under his resting one to brush his palm with your fingers. He gives you a dazed look that swiftly turns to a shy smile.

One of the staff members and the van driver come inside to let the boys know they’re free to leave and the van will be embarking in ten minutes, if anyone wants a lift back to the dormitory apartment. Jeongguk looks at you questioningly, but you just shake your head discreetly and glance meaningfully at the billiards table.

“How about I play you for a date?” you suggest. “Once the others leave.” He grins and twirls the pool cue he’s still holding again with a cocky look.

“You’re on,” he accepts.

Of course he beats you soundly, not that you can even concentrate with him looking like such a snack. You just shrug your defeat, letting him hook one finger under your chin and kiss you lingeringly on the lips.

“So where are we going on this date?” you ask him, stroking the back of his head as he drops his kisses below your chin and onto your neck. He doesn’t answer, instead picking you up and placing you on the edge of the billiard table. You roll the remaining balls towards the pockets with your hands, giggling. You’re expecting him to play along, but when you glance back at him, he’s turned the look in his eyes all the way up to smoking seduction-level.

“No...Kookie, no! We can’t. Not here, jagi” you murmur unconvincingly, your legs already instinctively wrapping around him. “Someone will see us,” you make one last ditch effort to resist his charms. “Oh fuck I want you so badly though,” you exhale, pulling him down towards you to kiss him with messy abandon, as his warm hands slide your skirt teasingly up your thighs.

“Do you?” he growls, between kisses. “Want me?”

“Always. But never more than I do right now,” you confirm, before tangling your tongue with his again. He looks shy and a little confused. You edge yourself back on the billiards table, coaxing him to crawl over to you across the felt. His hands grasp your hips, as he trails kisses from your waist up towards your breasts, pushing your top up and out of his way. You gasp as he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, transferring his searing kisses to the half-moons of exposed flesh above your bra.

Quickly yanking your knickers down to your knees so that you can kick them off, you reach for his belt and fumble with the buckle, dropping it onto the table and feverishly unbuttoning his animal-print shirt so that you can get your hands on his immaculate chest and sexy abs. His hips are already thrusting in anticipation and you raise yours from the surface, to grind yourself against him, eliciting a whimper from his parted lips against your skin.

“Bbali, bbali, we’re going to get in so much trouble if we get caught!” you plead with him urgently. He doesn’t answer, but just kisses you messily, shimmies his pants down his thighs, grabs your legs to spread them to his satisfaction, and then slides himself into you with a satisfied groan. Returning his lips to your neck, he sprinkles passionate kisses over every part of your bare skin that he can expose and reach as his thrusts get wilder and more urgent.

“Oh God, Jeongguk-ah! Are you close,” you beg him, your lips trying to memorise every inch of him as your hips dance to keep up with his.

“Un-huh, wa-yo,” he pants out, biting his bottom lip hard, You watch the orgasm wash over his face just prior to the sticky warmth that fills you up. But he keeps going, even though his thighs and arms are trembling, until he feels you tighten and contract around him and collapses on your chest. You stroke his slightly-damp hair away from his forehead, as the remnants of your own orgasm rampage through your body.

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

You’re just assuming that’s his “date” fulfilled, so you’re a little surprised when you hear a timid knock on your bedroom door two nights later. You slide it open warily, unsure what to expect, to be confronted with an immaculately-dressed Jeongguk, tugging self-consciously at his jacket lapels and clutching a single red rose that’s nearly as perfect as his lips. His silver earrings flash in the light emanating from your room. He clears his throat, nervously and holds the rose out towards you.

“Erm, I’m here to take you on that date, noona,” he tells you shyly. “I knew you had the night off because we do and I...I checked your appointment calendar so I knew you were staying in,” he mumbles, blushing. You open your mouth, unsure what to say, then close it again quickly. Then it occurs to you that the truth may be the best policy here.

“I thought you were...I mean I didn’t realise you meant a proper date,” you tell him. “Let me just put something more appropriate on.” You leave the door ajar, gesturing to him to enter, which, after a moment of hesitation, he does, seating himself gingerly on the edge of your bed. You keep your back to him as you fix your makeup and adorn yourself in jewellery.

“I honestly thought you were just after...you know...some fun...the other day,” you elaborate, swiftly finishing your winged eyeliner and spraying some perfume on.

You see him shake his head quickly in the reflection from your mirror. You turn to face him, smiling at him warmly.

“I really like you, Jeongguk-ssi,” you tell him softly. He smiles back at you, leaning forward to kiss you gently.

“I like you too, noona,” he murmurs. “Are you ready to go?”

“Almost!” you laugh. “But with all that effort you’ve gone to, it would be a shame not to dress for the occasion. How about I meet you down in the car park in ten minutes?” you suggest. He nods happily and lets himself out of your room, giving you a cute, formal bow.

You change into one of your dresses that he’s commented approvingly on before, along with a cute pair of heeled boots that you know he loves and trot down to the car park, buzzing with anticipation. Only when you get to the car Jeongguk is looking worriedly at his phone.

“Everything okay, jagi?” you check with him, your heart sinking a little. He looks up anxiously and bites his lip.

“Yeah, it’s just…” he stammers, turning the screen to face you. It’s one of the websites that regularly tracks idol movements and his name jumps out at you immediately. “BTS Jungkook’s racy night out with mystery woman!” screams the headline, complete with a press photo of him and a blurry security photo of you guys leaving the gaming room together. You grimace in sympathy.

“Do you want to still go?” you ask, careful of his feelings. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a sigh.

“Yes. I want to,” he tells you, defiantly. “They’ll have something else to talk about in a week and anyway...they’re going to have to get used to me living my life one day.” He climbs into the van, drawing you in after him and slides the door across.

“Gaja!” he calls to the driver, taking your hand in his and resting his head on your shoulder with a sweet little sigh.

THE END

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athenagc94 · 3 years

Text

This One Time in Atara - First Meetings

Me? Not writing a story where I live out my dream to romance Gust? Never. But it’s true. Here’s a story about how Albert and Gust first met in Atara. I plan on writing more stories of their shenanigans in Atara while they were younger (as they come to me). So please enjoy!

I’ll also post them here in AO3: This One Time in Atara

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

“Oh and this one time back in Atara,” Albert managed around a boisterous laugh, “Gust convinced the local Civil Corps members doing their rounds to join us for a game of darts. We made a little competition out of it to see who could wrack up the most points.” He took a sip of his hard soda and stifled another chuckle. “Well, we just about won the clothes off their backs. Though that might have been Gust’s goal from the get go. The one with the wing tattoo across his right shoulder was quite the looker. I think you got his number in the end, didn’t you?”

He winked at Gust as he pulled Sonia a little closer into the crook of his arm and planted a kiss on her cheek, then on her mouth. Gust grimaced at the overt display of affection. Did he have no shame? He turned away from them and traced the intricate basket weave pattern of the Round Table’s wallpaper. Beside him, Piper squeezed his hand sympathetically. It was only a minor consolation considering their present company.

Albert continued in blissful ignorance, “That was shortly after we met, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story of how you two met,” Piper said as she took a sip of her red tea.

“Is it a good one?” Sonia added as she twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger.

Gust rolled his eyes. “That depends on your definition of a good story.” He ran his thumb back and forth over the bridge of her knuckles. How did Piper convince him to go on a double date with these two again? They were practically on top of each other and right in front of him and his dinner. “It’s rather depraved if you ask me.” He cut the man across from him with a pointed glare. “Much like Albert and his effect on women.”

Albert gave him a wounded look. “Low blow, I think it’s a pretty great story,” he said, “Gust here really helped me out of a tight spot. How could I not want to be best mates with him after what happened.”

Piper arched an eyebrow at Gust. “It’s not that spectacular,” he insisted with a languid swipe of his free hand, “Albert was being a fool and I didn’t want to get caught up in his shenanigans. That’s all. End of story.”

Piper snorted and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. He ducked his head to hide the heat burning at his cheeks. She turned back to Albert and said, “Well, now I have to know. What did he do?”

“Well,” Albert said as he shifted forward in his seat. A feline smile curved his lips that made Gust’s skin crawl. “All good stories start with a pretty...”

“It started with a sketch.”

All eyes turned to Gust in surprise. Even he was mildly surprised by his interjection. He planned to sit back and roll his eyes at Albert’s dramatic retelling, like he usually did, but a small part of him hated his side of the story. The last thing he wanted was to subject Piper to his bullshit. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his vodka and apricot juice.

“It started with a sketch,” he said a little more firmly, “and a bad case of creative block…”

☼☼☼☼☼☼

Gust settled back in his seat and regarded the sketch in front of him. He spent the last two hours outlining a simple two-story structure with crow stepped gables. He had yet to settle on where he wanted to place the windows. Should he go with a symmetrical design? Or make things interesting and only include windows on one side of the building? Which would Vera choose? He nibbled thoughtfully on the end of his pencil as he traced and retraced the lines with his eyes.

The answer was simple, wasn’t it? She’d say his design was shit and tear it in half.

So, he did just that. He ripped the sheet off his drafting table and tore it right down the middle. The shreds of paper landed at his feet, joining the rest of his discarded designs. He growled and combed his fingers irritably through his hair. Shit. All his designs were absolute shit. He knew it. Vera knew it. Everyone knew how much of a failure he was. At this rate, he’d never become one of the great architects of his time.

Maybe he should cut his losses and go home with his tail between his legs.

He wrinkled his nose at the prospect. He would never stoop so low. Portia was in the past and he wanted to move forward. He refused to go back and waste away in that backwater town. He would make it as a great architect, even if it killed him. Vera took him on as an apprentice despite the fact that he had a personality blander than stale bread dipped in water ー her words not his. So, she had to have seen some potential in him, right?

He huffed and reached for the sketchbook. He just had to keep working at it. He wouldn’t give up, not until his dreams became a reality. He’d show everyone. He flipped to a blank page and began outlining a new design. He only got a few short strokes in before ripping it out and tossing it to the side.

Then started again. Then again. And again…

Shit. Shit. And more shit. Why couldn’t he get it right?

He sighed and glanced around his bedroom. At the wads of paper littering his floor and the half-finished designs tacked up on the walls, so he couldn’t see the moldy wallpaper beneath. They mocked him. He could hear their whispers at the back of his mind, telling him he’d never be good enough. He snarled and swiped his shoulder-length hair into a low ponytail.

He needed a change of scenery and maybe some fresh air, but he had no desire to actually leave his dorm. His gaze fell to his window and the streaked panes of glass that hadn’t seen a rag in over a year. He could see the vague outline of the Atara skyline. He fell in love with all the different buildings that made up this fine city. It was one of the reasons he sought out Vera in the first place. He wanted to make his mark on this city with a design of his own.

He straightened in his seat as an idea struck him. Maybe he could… if he was careful, there wouldn’t be any harm in it, right? The Civil Corps couldn’t arrest him if he was just hanging out on a window ledge. He glanced down at the half-hearted attempt at a new design in his lap, then back to the window.

Fuck it.

He stood and pushed the window open. Its rusted hinges whined in protest, but it opened just wide enough for him to shimmy out onto the lip of stone that jutted out just far enough so he could sit comfortably. He settled back against the relief carved trim that decorated his window and turned to a new page of his sketchbook.

He admired the skyline with a faint smile, then took a moment to watch the people mill about in the streets below. The sweet smell of coffee and black tea wafted from the café below and curled up and around him like a blanket that warmed him to his core, despite the crisp autumn air outside. He hummed contentedly.

He loved this city. He never wanted to leave.

He used the buildings in front of him as inspiration as he began to sketch a new design. Something a little more angular that used a lot of geometric shapes and windows. It wasn’t like anything he’d designed before now, but the longer he stared at it, the more he liked it. It was something new. It was something innovative. He only hoped Vera would feel the same. He worked until the sky turned a lovely shade of pink and bled into the faintest of light purple. The color reminded him of the heather plants that grew in the gardens outside Vera’s home. His fingers itched to mix a paint color that matched it, but he resisted that urge. He needed to keep his mind focused on architecture. Painting for pleasure could wait until he made a name for himself.

A window slammed open and jolted him from his thoughts. He almost lost his grip on his sketchbook entirely, but managed to clutch it to his chest before it toppled over the edge. His lip curled in disgust as he turned to glare at the source of the commotion. A young man with dark hair, clad only in a pair of plaid underpants and long grey socks, scurried out onto the ledge and the window slammed shut behind him as soon as he cleared it.

“Come on, Moira, you don’t have to do this,” he drawled with a lilting accent as he rapped his knuckles on the glass, “I don’t care if you have a boyfriend. In fact, he’s welcome to join in the fun. I’m flexible and I know you are.”

Moira didn’t deign to respond and the young man’s shoulders slumped as he pouted and turned away from the window. He noticed Gust immediately and blinked at him owlishly. Gust mirrored his surprise, still clutching his pad protectively to his chest. He glanced down at his bare chest and then the tent in his pants. The heat burned at the tips of his ears as he stared pointedly at his face. The young man grinned at him fiendishly.

“Just another Wednesday, am I right, mate?”

Gust furrowed his brow at him. He didn’t even know how to respond to that. A normal Wednesday for him involved take out from the noodle vendor that set up shop outside his building and banging his head against the wall until inspiration finally struck him. And when inspiration failed, he drowned his sorrows with a few shots of vodka. If this was a regular Wednesday, he didn’t even want to consider what Saturday looked like for this man.

“Uh, actually, I…”

The man sidled down the ledge until he settled down beside him. He reeked of sex. Gust wrinkled his nose and leaned away from him. “”I live two floors down from you, but I was enjoying Moriaー you’ve met Moira, right? She’s this pretty young thing with big brown eyes and a mouth always painted red as sin. Anyway, I was enjoying her company this evening and...”

He paused and the corners of his mouth dipped into a frown. “Or at least I was until her boyfriend returned home early from class. Then she freaked out and suddenly developed morals or whatever.” He threw his whole body into the eye roll. “Now here we are, just two blokes sitting on the ledge of their building, shooting the shit.” He kicked his legs absently as he offered him a hand, “the name’s Albert by the way. Pleasure to meet you.”

Gust stared at his outstretched hand, utterly mystified by the entire situation. How… How was he supposed to proceed? Did he pretend this man wasn't just kicked out of a woman's dorm because she was cheating on her boyfriend? Was he supposed to ignore his bare chest and the tent that refused to go away in his pants? Was it too late to just ignore him? Probably. He squinted at him, but didn’t take his hand. “Gust.” He turned back to his sketchbook and continued, “now please leave me alone.”

Albert let his hand fall to his side. “Well Gust, you see, I would, but as you can see I’m currently on the side of a building wearing nothing but my underthings,” he snorted, “so, you’re stuck with me until Moira let’s me back in or you let me in.” He inclined his head towards Gust and hummed thoughtfully. “So, the ball’s in your court, mate.”

He went stock still at the mere suggestion. He wanted to use his window to get out of this? Never, not in a million years. He had no reason to help this sexual deviant escape the consequences of his poor choices. “Fuck off,” he mumbled as he dragged his pencil across the page, “I don’t have to help you.”

Albert hummed. “Very true, you don’t,” he said with a sigh, “I guess that means I have to wait with you and go into great detail about the various things Moira and I were doing before her boyfriend got here. Let’s see there was this one position where Iー”

Gust cut him with a glare. “If I let you use my window, will you promise never to speak to me again?”

Albert made a crisscross motion over his chest. “Cross my heart,” he said with a wide grin, “you’ll never have to see me again after this.” He winked. “Unless you like what you see. Like I was saying before, I’m flexible.”

Gust gave him another once over. He wasn’t unattractive, quite the opposite. He had a charming smile that showed off a shallow divot on his right cheek. His dark hair was tousled from the soft breeze and, he had to assume, the sex he just had. Not normally his type, but Gust didn’t see too much action these days. But he wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of knowing he considered his offer for a moment.

He glowered at him and said, “Just get inside.”

Albert beamed and, together, they crawled back through the window and into his bedroom. Once his feet were safely planted on the ground, Gust turned and glared at the half-dressed heathen. He stood in the middle of his bedroom, hands planted firmly on his hips as he regarded the sketches on his walls with mild intrigue. His heart leapt into his throat.

Gust wanted to die. He forgot about all his shitty designs on the walls. He resisted the urge to jump in front of him and wave his arms wildly to distract him from his shame.

“Alright,” his voice cracked on the panic mounting in his chest, “you’re inside, now leave.”

Albert ignored him and peered more closely at the design hanging over his bed. An intricate layout for a botanical garden he designed when he first vied for Vera’s mentorship several years prior. It was the first and only design she ever complimented. And by complimenting, he meant an almost smile and a ‘it’s alright’, which was high praise coming from someone heartless and stone-cold like her.

“This is pretty good, more than good actually,” he noted with an appreciative tilt of his head, “are you an architect too?”

Gust blinked. “Uh, yes, I’m trying to be?” His brow furrowed at him. “Wait. Too? Are you an architect?”

He buzzed his lips and took a step back. “Construction management, actually,” he drawled with a wave of his hand, “but I’ve met my fair share of architects while tailing my mentor across the Free Cities. None of their designs look like these though. You’re pretty good.”

“Oh.” He scratched sheepishly at the nape of his neck. He turned and busied himself with grabbing a shirt and sweatpants from his dresser. “I’m alright, I guess,” he said as he tossed the clothes at Albert, “now get dressed, you look utterly ridiculous sporting around in nothing but your underwear.”

“Don’t be modest,” Albert said as he tugged the shirt over his head, “I know talent when I see it. I’d throw my hat in your ring if you wanted to make a living out of it.”

“Well, I’d need to get certified first,” Gust grumbled under his breath, “and who knows when my master will allow that. She hates my work.”

Albert nodded. “Well, when it happens, you should come find me,” he said as he shoved his hands in the pockets of Gust’s sweatpants. The soft grey fabric pooled around his feet, considering he stood at least a head shorter than him. “We’ll make a living of it, mate.”

Gust wrinkled his nose and said, “You agreed to never speak to me again if I helped you.”

He pursed his lips. “I did, didn’t I?” He shrugged and made his way towards the door, “well then, thanks for your help. As promised, I’ll never seek you out again.” He paused, hand on the doorknob and glanced back at him. “But if you seek me out again, I won’t turn you away. So, don’t be a stranger.”

Gust clucked his tongue. “Just leave.”

“You got it, mate,” he said, “thanks again.”

And with that, he disappeared through the door and Gust was alone again. He didn’t move right away. Instead, he glanced at the design above his bed, then the one next to it, and then the next, until he’d surveyed the whole room. Albert liked his work. Albert thought he had what it took to be one of the greats. Knowing someone felt that way, even if that someone was a half-dressed imbecile, was… oddly inspiring?

He turned back to his half finished sketch and smiled to himself. The wells of inspiration flowed freely through his veins and he already had a few ideas swirling around at the back of his mind.

He was convinced Vera would love them.

☼☼☼☼☼☼

“And that’s how Albert and I met,” Gust concluded with an indignant sniff, “see, he’s a depraved sexual deviant who drags me into his shenanigans.”

“Wait,” Albert started as he leaned forward in his seat, “you actually considered my offer to sleep with me?”

Gust scowled. Was that all he took from that story? Sexual deviant, indeed. He settled back in his seat and shrugged. “A pretty face is a pretty face, but then you opened your mouth and I quickly reconsidered your offer.” He leveled him with a glare. “I think I made a good call in the end.”

“I didn’t want you anyway,” Albert insisted as he toyed with the ends of Sonia’s hair, “you’re too grumpy for my tastes.”

“That’s a pretty cute story actually,” Piper teased. She elbowed Gust in the ribs and chuckled. He made a face, but it softened when Piper smiled up at him. He wrapped an arm around her and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “It’s good to see you’ve always been a stick in the mud and that wasn’t a new development.”

“That’s not true,” Albert exclaimed, “Gust was a very charming individual when he wanted to be. Why, I remember this one time in Atara…”

#my time at portia #mtap #mtap gust #mtap albert #mtap builder

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zoe-oneesama · 4 years

Note

Serving up some LOOKS! I love Mylene's Ivan sweatshirt! Would you be willing to talk about what sort of style elements you use for each character? (If you already have and I haven't found it, please ignore the question, that's on me)

I mostly did this for Mendeleiev’s class back when Punch was starting Leave for Mendeleiev, and I did a small run down for how the Main 5 fashion will change in Scarlet Lady, but not Bustier’s class sooooo:

Marinette -[I’m copy/pasting from an earlier ask]- When she likes a color, she sticks with it. She has a versatile wardrobe, but pink must always be present. She has the hardest to nail style because she experiments all the time, but no matter what she doesn’t feel comfortable unless she has an outer layer. Summer, Winter, Shorts, Pants, she needs to the comfort of a jacket - for Tikki to hide in when her purse isn’t appropriate.

Adrien -[Also C/P]- Basic B*tch. He thinks he’s fancier than he is. Oh sure, his clothes are well tailored to him and fit well, but they’re basic as hell. Gabriel isn’t as “innovative” as he thinks he is. Most of his clothes have the Gabriel logo and he sticks to the brand…because Adrien has no fashion sense whatsoever. Oh, he knows in theory what works and can put an outfit together, but he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d wear tshirts with physics puns and cat themed jackets. But alas, when one is an icon…

Alya -[C/P]- Mom Vibes. Fashion is not her priority. She knows enough to do good for her figure, but otherwise can’t really be bothered. Flannels and jeans in varying heights and a snappy tshirt are all she needs. But she is drawn to things that remind her at least of superheroes or superpowers. Her ridiculous high tops with the spiky tongue? She thinks it makes her look fast. She’s also the one who’s going to embarrass Marinette by wearing trendy but “garbage” fashion: fanny packs, Jellies, ugs with sweatpants. Dammit Alya, you’re a beautiful human being, do you mind NOT dressing like a hobo on vacation?! (Secretly her favorite outfits are from Martinique, but she saves them for special occasions).

Nino -[C/P]- Precious trash goblin. Wash your shirts and the neckline won’t be so worn out! He likes graphic tees with his favorite bands and DJs logos on them (he’s partial to ones without the name of the band or DJ so he can find other fans) and prefers things to be loose. He’s also drawn to colors and he’s super chill when his “garbage” girlfriend rolls up to a date looking like she’s going to an amusement part with her four kids, because it means she can’t dump on him for not looking “put together” (she would never!). He’ll try to dress up every now and then for a fancier date or when Adrien manages to snag him a spot at an event with him, but it’s pretty clear he’s uncomfortable without his hat and headphones. He has a few Moroccan outfits that he brings out in the Summer.

Chloe - Expensive Fashion Forward Chic. She made a staple out of shaming anyone else who dared to wear her favorite color yellow over the years. She was extremely smug about being the first in her grade to experiment with makeup that she never bothered to get good at it. Her clothes are expensive with just a smidge of impractical - only someone with cash to burn would constantly wear white pants! She’s also the kind of person to put off dressing for the cold as long as she can- if she puts on all these jackets and layers, how will these peasants see my brand name clothes underneath?! A lot of her fashion decisions are based on long forgotten advice from her mother - gold over silver jewelry, always have something on your head, brand or nothing. She’ll only abandon a well worn trend if her mother directly contradicts it.

Sabrina - Nerdy, geeky, almost like she’s wearing a uniform. She’s preparing to be Chloe’s assistant best friend for life so she has to look the part. She’s long abandoned any hope of shining next to Chloe, so being flashy and showy is out of the question. Luckily, Chloe isn’t drawn to patterns, so that’s a field of fashion that Sabrina can claim for her own. Doesn’t matter where it is, something she’s wearing needs to have a pattern. Leggings are her favorite accessory and she’s taken to collecting Chat Noir merch (though it’s less out of admiration for the hero himself and more for her “role” with Chloe. It reminds her of the rare times when Chloe acts like they’re friends.)

Mylene - Bohemian, and a touch artsy. Peace is important to her and her vibe reflects that. She’s not super up for showing a lot of skin, but neither are a lot of girls in her class. She leans towards a muted color palette so that her hair doesn’t clash, though she usually tries to match one piece of clothing to some color in her hair. Her accessories are a bit childish and kitchy, like her monster head bead, and she has a huge collection of hair accessories, like bandannas and headbands. She has a lot of different passions with various levels of seriousness, so she’ll come to Marinette for advice on how to use her wardrobe to fit the level of professionalism she wants.

Alix - Sporty but on the lazier side. Fashion is such an anti priority. She’s the one Marinette will go to for her more out there ideas because she has no recoil to pants made of buckles or shapeless over shirts, but that’s as far as it goes. Her clothes are made to be weather resistant and easy to slip on (and so that her dad won’t be pissed if she wipes out and rips something). If it were up to her, she’d just shop out of thrift stores and pick out all the color blocked 80s windbreakers, but when your whole squad is held together by a fashion designer, you can only get away with so much. Her nicest clothes are made by Marinette for her professional races and competitions and her favorites have nods to Egypt mythology and history.

Ivan - Punk but like…beginners guide to punk. Let’s be honest, when you’re built like a brick house, shopping is hard - or at least not that much fun. Ditto when you’re a dude that just…doesn’t particularly care. Ivan has a bunch of cargo pants because they fit, they’re grungy, and they’re practical. SO MANY POCKETS!!! Beyond that, like Nino, he prefers to wear band shirts of his favorite groups. His hiking boots are the nicest things he owns and he has a few bracelets that he only brings out when he’s “dressing up”. The most colorful thing he owns is a hoodie/pants set from the Cartoon Monster Show that Mylene’s hair bead is modeled after.

Kim - Sporty and Serious. Sweatpants and running shoes. That’s the make of his wardrobe. After all, you need to be able to challenge anyone to a race at ANY TIME!! Dressing up for him means putting on a pair of jeans, and he’s pretty much always under dressed but also completely oblivious to the fact. Red is his favorite color and he’s partial to that one brand of sports wear that’s on his hoodie-shirt and sweatband. If something is waterproof (and therefore, sweatproof) he’ll give it a try AS LONG AS IT’S REEEEED!!!

Max - Geek Fashion. Max dresses like he’s already 65 years old, and with his best friend being Kim? He might be. He has invested in some good walking shoes because when your bestie is running off at any and every moment, you gotta do SOMETHING to keep up. His pants are higher up than most guys and his shirts are always tucked in. He prefers sweaters over sweatshirts and cardigans to jackets. We are comfortable in this house, not trendy!

Juleka - Electro Goth. Black is the main attraction, but she likes that punch of something neon - purple, green, even blue (Rose can tell she’s feeling romantic when she puts on some pink). She’s tall and likes clothes that accentuate that and she’s a fan of the details - shoulder cuts, lace inserts, epaulets. And despite covering half her face, she’s really into makeup (and she’s way better than Chloe). Does she have colored contacts? She’ll never tell.

Rose - Decora Kei is probably the best shortcut to describing her look, followed by Kawaii Fashion. Doesn’t matter if she burns to look at, she IS the embodiment of soft and cute! Obviously pink is her favorite color, bu she also likes pairing it with some other bright colors. Rainbows. Are. EVERYTHING. And she’s a sucker for bunnies and strawberries and angel wings ^^! How else is she supposed to have an amazing day if she’s not decked out in sunshine?!

Nathaniel - Basic but like Colorful Basic. He definitely hopped the skinny jeans phase and will continue to do so until he finally grows a bit. He holds onto clothes pretty long because there’s only so many times you can buy new shirts after getting paint and charcoal on them before you just stop caring. He aims for durability instead of fashionable, but also collects clothes with the logo from the show he likes. (And no one knows about his secret Ladybug merch collection that he only wears around his house).

Lila - Gyaru was the search term I used. She’s one of the few with a not super saturated color palette, sticking to dark neutrals. She’s drawn to patterns, like polka dots and zebra prints, and tries to balance it with neutral colors. Plus anything that makes her seem “exotic” and foreign and more interesting, she’ll wear (as long as it’s stylish enough for her.) She cleverly toes the line between fashionable and trashy, showing just enough skin or using a just flashy enough pattern. Every piece she wears she’s crafted a whole story around how she got it, like her bracelets being a gift from street kids in Belize or her earrings being a prize she won when impressing an East Asian Prince.

#fashion #ask zoe #ml #miraculous ladybug

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