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jkstompers · 3 years

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just to study | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: your seat partner asks if you’re free after class, just to study.

genre: fluff, college!au, established friendship, flirtationship, mutual pining, they go to a ‘frat’ party together, also yugyeom! a sweetheart<3 we love him.

warnings: mature!!, mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, strong language, SEXUAL TENSION, mentions of dick sucking??, hints of a wet dream on oc’s end, very strong urges to kiss each other but no kisses today </3, that’s pretty much it!

word count: 7.4k (i...kinda went overboard)

authors’ note: hello!! this is a pt. 2 to sleepyhead! it’s based a few weeks after so yeah <3 also the pacing is kind of weird but… i don’t really know how being drunk is so............(＞人＜) i’m sorry about that! one scene was inspired by this post haha it was just so cute to think about i had to do it. ALSO i literally haven’t taken anatomy since high school so i just used random terms from quizlet T_T pls excuse that as well! but otherwise, enjoy!!!!!!!!! (っ^_^)っ

(if u see any typos...ignore them pls T_T)

side note: imagine jk looking like this when he goes to the party lmao classic fboy look with the camo bomber and his piercings ugh <3

banner pic creds here ! <3

you made it to class on time today, woke to your alarm and even had enough time to eat breakfast before you came. in a particularly good mood, you made your way up the stairs to the row jungkook was sitting in, hoping that the seat next to him was empty (you didn’t have to hope, jungkook always saved the seat next to him for you, no matter what.)

“good morning, ___!” jungkook’s voice greets you the same as always as soon as you appear next to him. he moves his bag out of the way for you to sit down.

he looks especially cute today. his long floppy hair framing his face, his sweet smile beaming up to you. you wonder how dumb you looked drooling over him for a minute before you replied, “hi jungkook, how are you?” with the same smile on your face that you show him every time he sees you. it never changes, but it never fails to make jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

“i’m doing okay, you?” he answers while you pull out your laptop.

you didn’t have a chance to reply before your professor starts talking. informing the class about the test that’s planned at the end of the month, finals in two months, and then dropping the bomb that there’s a quiz tomorrow about the things you’ve learned in the past week. a slight panic takes over you, although you didn’t know why, you understood what he was teaching and you were retaining all of the information well. but when the professor pulls up all the information on the screen to review it all, all of the words and pictures overwhelm you.

to make things worse, jungkook is to your left, not paying attention to a word your professor is saying. instead, playing some game where he has to click his touchpad an obnoxious amount of times. your attention is split between jungkook’s erratic tapping and the notes that the professor projects onto the screen, even though his computer barely made any noise, his incessant movement was distracting you.

“jungkook, you’re taking notes and playing a game?” your voice comes out as a rushed whisper. there’s a snort that comes from him before he nods. you couldn’t be mad at him. “there’s a quiz on all of this tomorrow, you know?”

“i know,” he continues to tap and click, the motion growing incredibly annoying. you didn’t know why you couldn’t have just tried to block it out, but he was just so close to you and admittedly, you looked at his hands, a lot. the way that his fingers tapped against his keyboard and his veins that accentuate his already beautiful hands, it was free art you could look at, how could you not? at this point, you’re contemplating holding his hand to make him stop tapping.

you were in the middle of typing when he finally stops, leaning back and stretching his arms up into the air. you let out a sigh of relief, until he starts again. apparently he reached the next level on his game, tapping even faster, if that was even fucking possible.

quietly, you groan. turning your attention solely on him. you place your hand on top of his, the tapping ceasing almost immediately. “please, jungkook, you’re distracting me.”

he looks at your hand before he looks at you, his chocolate doe eyes wide to the action. he gulps, “sorry.”

you remove your hand, focusing back to the presentation. jungkook feels the heat from his cheeks travel to his hand. the feeling of your hand on his wasn’t something he was expecting to experience today, but he wants nothing more than for you to do it again. he exits the game tab and changes his focus to the lecture.

or moreso, you focusing on the lecture.

you look so cute. your cheek pressed up against your fist. he stares at the way that your forehead creases in concentration. he taps on your arm that’s resting on the table, “hey, you look like you’re stressed out.”

you turn your head slightly to look over to him. “that’s because i am,” you send him a quick smile before you go back to looking at the projection.

he furrows his eyebrows, “why? you’re smart, there’s no need to worry about what you get on this.” you were an a+ student, never anything less than that. jungkook knows that you ace every test that you take, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so stressed.

“because jungkook,” you groan. you expected a lot from yourself, sure b’s were okay, but a’s and a+’s were what you wanted and what you thought would make you feel satisfied. there was no way you could explain this without sounding like an overachiever. so you just sigh, “i’m just not really prepared.”

jungkook thinks of the perfect way to spend more time with you, snapping his fingers before suggesting, “we should study together after class, studies show that studying with someone else will give you an a+, guaranteed.” the confidence in his voice makes you smile, and helps you ease up a little bit.

you raise an eyebrow, a laugh creeping up from your lungs. “source for that statistic, sir?”

he taps his right temple, the gesture making you snort. “no but seriously, i’ll help you out,” he assures. his laptop turns towards you to show you all the notes he took, different words highlighted and colored differently.

you act like you think about it, staying quiet for a minute or so. but you know the answer was yes no matter what. “just to study?” you tease. jungkook raises his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile on his face, “just kidding, we can go to mine? i owe you for the ride you gave me like two weeks ago.” you tap your fingers against your laptop nervously, your teeth taking in your bottom lip as you ask. you haven’t had a guy over to your apartment, not since you’ve moved in. there’s a certain anxiousness that comes with the suggestion.

jungkook nods, “sounds good.”

“okay, again.” you brush your hair behind your ears, preparing yourself once more for another pass of the flashcards. the two of you have been at it with these cards for the past hour or so, you were determined to get these right no matter how long it took. jungkook knew you were gonna get it down, you only had three more cards, these ones specifically stumping you.

“aponeuroses,” he looks at the card and then to you.

“connective tissue that forms a broad sheet which attach muscle to bone or muscle to other muscles,” you speak confidently. jungkook nods, moving onto the next card of the set of three.

“endomysium,” he reads the card. you hesitate on this one for a second, he plays with the corner of the card until you snap your fingers.

“that’s the connective tissue surrounding the… the— uh, oh! muscle fiber?” your brain works extra hard. jungkook rewards you with another nod, flipping to the last card.

“fascia.”

“dense connective tissue,” you begin, pausing to think of the rest of the answer. you start biting your thumb nail, knowing there’s more to it but it’s not coming to your brain quick enough.

jungkook just stares, watching your facial expressions as you search for the answer in your brain. this could be the worst crush he’s ever had, he thinks you’re cute when you’re just sitting there, thinking. he doesn’t remember ever liking someone this much, most of the time his crushes went away after a few weeks or so. but it’s almost been an entire year since he’s started crushing on you, and it still hasn’t stopped. you still manage to find a way to make his thoughts surround you.

“separates and holds individual tissues? it’s the one that extends into the tendons, right?” you perk up after a minute or so. your brain finally coming up with the answer. you blame jungkook’s presence for slowing you down. maybe you shouldn’t have accepted this offer to study together, because how could you focus when jeon jungkook is sitting right in front of you?

“you’re amazing,” he praises, setting the flashcards down onto the table. you blush at the compliment, jungkook takes notice, but he doesn’t mind, he thinks pink is pretty on you. he’s never wanted to kiss your cheeks as much as he did now, and trust, he’s thought about it many, many times. “all done?” he asks after staring at you for the longest time.

you nod, “just gonna highlight these terms to review them later so i can get it down 100%.”

jungkook watches as you diligently reread your notes and highlight them. an apple on the table taking his attention away for a second when he realizes he hasn’t eaten at all today. he takes a bite, the loud crunch noise seemingly startling the both of you. it makes you turn your head and raise an eyebrow towards him.

“sorry,” he chews, “hungry.”

your stare lingers a little longer than you wanted it to. his cheeks are full of apple, you can’t help but laugh a little. “there’s still the sticker on it,” you point out.

he turns the apple around to see the blue sticker. peeling it off, he holds it on his fingertip, an idea sprouting in his mind to see that sweet smile of yours again. so he places the sticker on your cheek, your gaze moving from your screen to him and then to the fruit sticker now stuck onto your cheek. “get it? ‘cause you’re sweet like this apple is,” he smiles.

oh my god. you blush embarrassingly, your entire face flushed pink as you hide your cheeks behind your hands. he laughs at your reaction. jungkook was feeling bold today, so he moves forward, gently taking your hands away from your face to see the cute pink tint he caused. he sits back, admiring your pretty face.

you feel yourself burning hotter and hotter the longer he stares, looking everywhere but his face, too scared to make eye contact. you look back to your computer screen, “um— there’s pasta in the fridge— if you’re hungry, i made it last night.” you offer, but he declines politely, telling you that he has to leave pretty soon because his friends are expecting him to join them today.

begrudgingly, you watch as jungkook packs his things up. he thinks about how content he felt hanging out with you today, and how he wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. a thought pops into his head before he opens the door to leave. he turns on his heel.

you weren’t expecting the sudden turn, accidentally bumping into his chest. “oof! sorry.”

“it’s alright,” he laughs, helping you steady yourself by holding your shoulders. “i just wanted to ask— uh, my friends are throwing a party tomorrow night, do you— do you wanna come?” his words come out jumbled, jungkook never fails to trip on his words whenever he’s near you.

tomorrow night...it’s a friday tomorrow, the quiz is tomorrow, why the fuck not? a stress reliever from all the studying you’ve done. “sure,” you answer after a minute or so of deliberation. you look up at him with a smile, suddenly realizing how close the two of you are.

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, the close proximity makes you hold your breath. “great! i can pick you up? be your DD?” he quirks his head, a smile that matches yours on his face.

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” with that, jungkook takes a step back, widening the space between you both as his right hand goes to hold the strap of his bag.

“okay, i’ll text you the details.” before he turns around, turning the knob of your front door and letting himself out. before the door closes, he sends you a wave, one which you reflect as he pulls the door closed. you move up and lock the door, your forehead resting against the cold metal slab.

you wonder if this crush will ever advance into something more. neither of you really push the agenda, most of the time just cutely flirting with each other and only talking to each other during class. maybe this party will be a chance to further the bond the two of you have. you could only wish that you could drop this nervous shield that pops up everytime you’re around him, but jungkook is just so cool. the campus heartthrob, everyone wants to be him or be with him.

for the rest of the day, jungkook seems to occupy your mind, as he always does. when you get to sleep, the fantasies of jungkook’s lips on yours drift you into a deep sleep, one that eventually leads to a dream that has you rubbing your thighs together. his hands were all over your body, his cologne that you were so familiar with tormenting your nose, it all felt too real. so when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, sweat beaded at your hairline. you took deep breaths, cementing the fact that he isn’t here, and he certainly isn’t doing those things with you right now.

it was not helping that you dreamt of him sexually on the day of your quiz, the one that you were immensely stressing over. now, you’re gonna have to walk into class, act normal around jungkook even though your brain produced pornographic images of him, (it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve had to face him right after it happened) and ace this quiz.

you tried almost everything you could to have cleared your brain of your dream sequence. taking a shower, eating breakfast, studying once more, etc. but when you’re walking into the lecture hall, flashes of the dream and the sound of his imagined moan echo in your mind.

you walk up the stairs with your eyes down, not sure if you could make eye contact with jungkook without turning red. “hey, ___, good morning!” the familiar voice greets you.

“morning,” you reply, dryly. taking the seat next to him and silently taking your laptop out, waiting for the professor to start the quiz. jungkook seemed a bit taken aback by your cold answer, but he took into account that you’re probably just super nervous and stressed out because of the quiz, so he doesn’t take it too personally. instead, just sitting back in his chair and waiting patiently to take the quiz as well.

at this point, you were psyching yourself out, swearing that you already forgot all of the terms. if you were quizzed on the parts of male anatomy, specifically jungkook’s, then maybe you could ace it, but the terms that you were working oh so hard to memorize yesterday slip from your mind. when the professor tells you to separate and start the quiz, you start to bite your thumb nail again.

jungkook takes a look over at you, noticing the bad habit of yours. he gently takes a hold of your arm, pulling your thumb away from your teeth. the action causing you to make eye contact with him and his big doe eyes that hold so much love and light. you find yourself a bit speechless then, too many thoughts running around in your mind.

he whispers, “you’ll do great, okay?” the statement soothing your nerves. his voice somehow makes your body relax, even though you thought you would freak out if you made any sort of contact with him.

“you— you too, good luck,” you mutter. a half smile on your face. you were grateful that jungkook broke you out of your trance, his words of encouragement suddenly placing you in the testing state of mind. the images from last night's dream seem to put themselves away for now.

the next twenty minutes are complete silence. everyone focused on the questions before them. of course, you zoomed through the quiz, prepared for the trick questions and the harder ones that come up. jungkook finishes after you. it wasn’t a surprise, jungkook didn’t even have to try, you swear you’ve never seen him stress out before. nobody was perfect, you believed that, but jeon jungkook was the closest to it.

“okay, class! the quiz will be graded by tonight hopefully, you’re free to leave,” your professor alerts the class. jungkook waits patiently until you’re standing, following you down the stairs and out the door.

you decide to speak first, since you greeted him with such a dry response this morning. it wasn’t his fault that you dreamed of him on top of you, so why were you punishing him for it? “how’d you think you did?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he shrugs, “good i guess, i think i fucked up on one or two questions.”

“was it the striation part? i think i messed up on that one too.”

he shakes his head, “you know you aced that, don’t lie.”

you stay silent, the two of you walking to the campus parking lot. neither of you engage in conversation as you usually do. the images of last night’s dream slipping into your consciousness once again. you try to shake your head, to rid yourself of the thoughts. nothing else to distract you from them because jungkook was oddly silent the entire walk. you fear that he can actually read your mind and see all of your thoughts. if he could, he doesn’t mention it. not saying one word to you until he walks you to your car, greeting you with a ‘see you next class!’ before leaving to go to his car. not even mentioning the party to you, you start to wonder if he regrets inviting you. up until you heard your phone ring when you parked in the lot of your apartment complex.

[10:24 am] jungkook: hey! forgot to remind u about the party 😫

[10:24 am] jungkook: ur still down to come, right?

[10:28 am] you: hi! yeah :)

[10:28 am] you: is there a dress code or smth? haha

[10:29 am] jungkook: not that i know of 😂

[10:30 am] jungkook: u can wear anything u want

[10:30 am] jungkook: ur cute whatever u wear

[10:31 am] you: oh stop it jeon ur making me blush

[10:32 am] you: but tell me :( should i wear something casual? pants? a dress?

[10:34 am] jungkook: 😂

[10:34 am] jungkook: it’s kind of like a frat party…

[10:35 am] jungkook: so anything is okay

[10:37 am] you: ah okay

[10:37 am] you: i’ll surprise u then ;)

[10:40 am] jungkook: alright :)

[10:41 am] jungkook: i’ll come by around 9 to pick u up? sound good?

[10:42 am] you: yeah! gives me enough time to nap and get ready lol

[10:44 am] jungkook: great :) see u then cutie

you wake up from your nap around one, you had more than enough time for you to get ready for a party. so you decide to clean your apartment first, little chores to waste time before you get yourself dolled up. when you finished, it was around seven thirty. you washed your face, brushed your teeth, all that good stuff before sliding on a simple black bodycon that you got last summer. styling your hair and spraying on your favorite perfume before looking at yourself in the mirror. this wasn’t too much, right? lots of people wear stuff like this to frat parties, so you didn’t find it too fancy. the notification sound from your phone goes off, you move to check and see if it was who you were expecting.

[8:54 pm] jungkook: i’m here :)

[8:54 pm] you: ahh gimme a sec i need to pee haha

[8:55 pm] jungkook: take ur time cutie

[8:56 pm] jungkook: i’m right in front

jungkook only really had to wait about five minutes. the visual of you walking out of your apartment doors, looking the way you did, was breathtaking. his jaw drops, mouth slightly agape as he watches you walk up to his car through the passenger window. you are so gorgeous. it’s probably the first time jungkook’s seen you in clothes that really compliment your figure, most of the time you show up to class in hoodies and sweaters. so greedily, he takes in the way the dress hugs your curves deliciously. he shakes the thoughts from his head to get out of the car and open the door for you.

“what a gentleman,” you tease, getting into the car.

he joins you soon after, “you look...gorgeous.” jungkook doesn’t seem so shy now, his eyes taking in your beautiful self.

“thank you,” you blush under his stare. “is it too much?”

“no! no— not at all, all eyes will be on you tonight.” he smiles, turning the car on. now you were able to gawk over him. a simple outfit, all black with a black and white camo bomber. his side profile is perfect, his long hair draping over his face so gracefully and his piercings somehow sparkling in the dark of the car.

he doesn’t drive too far, somewhere in the suburbs where the big houses are. a huge iron gate in the front, seemingly too fancy for a frat party setting. jungkook rolls his window down to greet someone waiting in front of the gate with a couple of other guys.

“jeon! you’re late dude,” one of the guys gives him a handshake through the window.

“sorry man, i’m here now though,” jungkook laughs. the guy giving him the greenlight and opening the gate for him, jungkook parks inside on their stone driveway, decorated with a fountain and a beautiful garden.

“your friend lives here?” you inquire, impressed by the look of the place.

he nods, “fancy right? his parents are ceo’s.” makes sense, and it would also make sense as to why they were throwing a frat party here, rich sons always seem to stir up trouble whenever they’re bored.

he steps out of the car to open the door for you, always a gentleman. he takes your hand and helps you out, the two of you walking to the huge open double doors. as soon as you walk in, the smell of alcohol hits your nose, you try your best not to cringe. the blare of the speakers is the second thing you notice, along with the shouting of jungkook’s friends greeting him. “who’s this?” one of them asks, referring to you.

jungkook seems to hesitate at first, not really knowing how to introduce you. he settles by saying, “this is ___!” not attaching any ‘friend’, ‘classmate’, or anything to the introduction. his friend holds his hand out to shake yours.

you take it with a smile on your face, “i’m yugyeom, it’s nice to meet you!” a smile that reflects yours is on his face, it made you feel welcome. you were never really the type to go to parties, your time is spent working and/or going to school, but this interaction helps you ease up a little more.

“hello, yugyeom!” you reply, shouting over the music.

“do you wanna take a shot?” he asks. pointing to the enormous kitchen where they’re housing all the alcohol, you look to jungkook first who’s paying more attention to his phone rather than the conversation you were just having.

you shrug, “why not?”

yugyeom leads the two of you to the kitchen, jungkook following behind you blindly. he looks up from his phone, done with whatever business he was dealing with to ask, “where are we going?”

“taking a shot,” you answer, pointing to yugyeom who’s already pouring three shots.

“dude, i’m not drinking, don’t pour three.” jungkook tries to stop him before he fills up the third shot glass but his arm knocks yugyeom’s in the process, the bottle spilling the clear liquid into the third shot glass.

“i’ll take two,” you suggest, feeling a bit wild and down to venture out of your comfort zone.

yugyeom smiles at this, “i like her, jeon.” he hands you the two shot glasses full of vodka, jungkook stands next to you and watches as you down the first shot. your face cringing as soon as the alcohol touches your tongue.

“you didn’t even give her a chaser,” jungkook notices, scolding yugyeom who's already downed his shot and is sucking on a lime. “here, suck,” holding a slice of lime up to your lips. his choice of words disorienting you, especially since he was holding the lime up to your mouth instead of just handing it to you. your eyes flicker between the lime and his face, but nevertheless, you suck. sinking your teeth into the sour fruit. jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on how your lips wrap around the slice, slightly grazing his fingers. it’s not long before you’re making a cute scrunched up face from the sourness. “good,” he praises. you don’t deny the slight burn your lower belly felt when he said that to you. you swear he was making sex eyes to you, but you couldn’t tell. he broke eye contact with you soon after, throwing the fruit into the trash below the table that the alcohol was perched on.

yugyeom hands you another lime for your second shot, this time no jungkook to hold the fruit for you. the second shot burning down your throat with the lime chasing after, both yugyeom and jungkook cheer, congratulating you for being a trooper (even though two shots were their warmups).

the next hour or so, jungkook brings you around. he introduces you to his friends and making conversation with them. one certain group, you didn’t really enjoy. a group of five girls, clearly swarming jungkook as soon as he turned around from talking to another one of his friends. the girls ask how he’s been doing, all of the basic conversation starters. when jungkook tries to introduce you, they all turn to you and give you a little head nod before turning their attention back to jungkook. he stands there, conversing with them longer than he had with any of his other friends, and you found yourself getting, hm, jealous.

so you search around the room crowded room, looking for some way out. your eyes spot yugyeom in the backyard through the huge sliding doors, sitting on one of those lawn chairs with the one next to him empty. you decide to leave the group you were currently getting pushed out of and join yugyeom. he notices you when you step onto the grass, trying your best not to sink into the dirt with your heels. “you doing alright? where’s jungkookie?” he asks, sitting up.

you plop down onto the lawn chair next to him. “he’s in there,” you point to the house, “with five girls.”

the last bit of the sentence makes him laugh, a cackle where he holds his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “do you want a shot?” he offers after he recovers from his fit, pulling a tequila bottle out from nowhere.

but you agree, “two, please.” he fills the two shot glasses, but not completely like he did with the vodka earlier. there were no limes, or any type of chaser for you to take around, so you take the two shots like ripping off a band-aid, quick.

“you’re a funny girl,” yugyeom compliments when you’ve downed the shots.

“thanks?” you cough, the feeling of the alcohol still burning your nose and throat, “what did i say that was funny?”

“i think it’s because i’m tipsy, but that joke you made about jungkook being with five girls was hilarious.” he slaps his knee, almost making himself laugh up a storm again, but you weren’t laughing.

you raised an eyebrow, speaking with a serious tone. “it wasn’t a joke, he’s in there with five girls.”

yugyeom tries to collect himself, sitting properly on the lawn chair when he asks you to clarify, “you mean he’s fucking them? or he’s talking to them?”

you’re silent for a second before replying, why did you say it like he was in there fucking them? maybe it’s because he might as well be, so engrossed in whatever the hell they were saying to even notice that you were gone. “just talking to them,” you reply.

“that’s what i thought, jungkook isn’t like that anymore,” yugyeom nods his head, pouring another shot out for you.

“anymore?” you ask. he hands you the shot, you hesitate this time, starting to feel the effects of the first four shots you took. he doesn’t push you to take it. he just leans back onto the lawn chair as he sighs.

“you could say he’s retired,” he shrugs.

the term makes you laugh, “...a retired fuckboy?” you sit back into the lawn chair as well, looking up to the night sky. the shot glass forgotten on the table next to you. your body feels like it’s floating.

“yeah, he hasn’t really been doing stuff like that recently,” yugyeom spills. you stay quiet after he feeds you this information. yugyeom offhandedly telling you that you shouldn’t be jealous makes you feel guilty. why were you even jealous? jungkook was technically still just a friend to you. just because the two of you flirt every now and then doesn’t mean you’re together. of course he would be surrounded by girls, just look at him!

“there you are! i was looking all over for you,” jungkook interrupts your inner monologue. his voice comes from across the lawn, you look up to see him walking over to you and yugyeom.

“hi, jungkookie,” you smile up at him. the alcohol having more of an effect on you the longer you let it sit in your stomach.

he almost freezes up at the nickname, looking over to yugyeom and asking, “did you tell her to call me that?”

yugyeom holds his hands up in innocence, “i didn’t tell her to do anything, she’s like five or six shots deep though.”

you take the shot that was forgotten on the table and down it. “six,” you clarify.

“alright, slow down, iron liver,” jungkook jokes. yugyeom stands from the lawn chair, receiving jungkook’s telepathic signals to get the fuck up to he could talk and hang out with you.

“play beer pong with me later, ___! i’m gonna go look for eunwoo,” yugyeom points to you, giving you a thumbs up before leaving the backyard and moving into the house.

“feeling okay? think you might throw up soon?” jungkook asks, replacing yugyeom in the chair next to you.

“feel like i’m surfing, you know? like wavy,” you answer. the feeling was hard to explain, you weren’t dizzy but at the same time your brain was telling you to stop moving, even though you were completely still.

“ah, you’re getting there,” jungkook snorts. you didn’t have much willpower to answer, so the two of you sit there in a comfortable silence before a group of people coming towards, all greeting jungkook and you. they offer you a red cup, despite your current predicament. leaning against the chair and your droopy eyes, telling them that you’ve taken too many shots. a lightweight at her peak.

jungkook tries to deny it for you, but with a smile, you accept the cup. it was filled with the fancy mixed alcohol juice they had. “thank you,” you place the cup onto the table, “i’ll drink it.... later..” your words begin to draw themselves out. jungkook somehow finding a way to make the entire group leave, making it just the two of you again.

“give it to me, you’re starting to slur your words.” his hand is open, laying on the table and waiting for you to surrender the cup.

your eyes flicker from the red cup, to his face, then to his hand. a smirk on your face when you hold the cup up to your lips, tilting it back and drinking the cursed juice. you weren’t able to down it all, it was too much, you drank maybe ⅔ of it. you cough, taking in a deep breath as you try to steady yourself.

you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk, but the way that his face looks in the moonlight was so pretty. so you just had to tell him. leaning forward, you speak, almost a whisper, “you’re so handsome.” you drag your finger across the expanse of jungkook’s hand. “did you know i have no gag reflex?” you smile, not your typical sweet smile that he’s used to, but a devilish grin.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing immediately at your remark. “alright, you drank way too much.” he takes the red cup from your hands, dumping it out onto the grass in front of you both.

“hey, i wasn’t done,” you pout, but jungkook didn’t give you much time to mourn your spilled drink before he was holding your arm, lifting you from the lawn chair you were sitting on. “where are we going?” you ask, trailing behind him with your hand in his.

“gonna get you some water and something to eat,” he answers. the two of you move through the house, jungkook pushes through groups of people and makes sure you’re safe behind him.

“i have to pee.” you tip toe to tell him your emergency in his ear. he stops at the stairs, knowing a bathroom where no one else goes. his friend specifically telling him to use that bathroom when they have parties because the other ones get way too gross.

he brings you up the stairs to the guest bedroom, opening the door to reveal one of the biggest rooms you’ve seen. “the bathroom is there,” jungkook points to the door on the left. you nod, your wobbly legs making their way to the toilet.

jungkook sits on the bed patiently, waiting for you to finish. he hears the flush and the sound of the sink running, the door opens and you’re coming out of the bathroom, pulling your dress down. “are we gonna have sex?” you utter, slurring the end of your sentence. your alcohol poisoned mind taking over your ability to speak.

his eyes widen at the question. “no! no— oh my god, this is just the room with the cleanest bathroom, we’re not—“

you’re next to him now, “you don’t want to?” you pout. glassy eyes looking into his.

“no! i mean, yes, i want to but— fuck, just— just not now, yeah?” jungkook stumbles over his words, his face blushing a blood red. your pretty face peering up at him makes him even more flustered, his hands start to sweat.

“okay,” you nodded. your drunken brain deciding to stop the interrogation of jungkook’s desire for you. to which jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, taking your hand and bringing you out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the driveway. he brings you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. “wait, are we leaving already? yugyeomie wants me to play beer pong with him,” you complain, wiggling your hand from his grasp.

goosebumps appear on your arm when you make it outside of the house. jungkook notices when he turns around to look at you. without a second thought, he takes his jacket off and places it over your shoulders. the newfound warmth shielding you from the cold night. he didn’t mind the breeze, especially since he was still recovering from the stunt you pulled in the guest room.

“we can come back later if you want, let’s just go grab something to eat first so you won’t regret this tomorrow morning.” his explanation is pretty solid according to your drunken brain, so you oblige, moving to sit in his passenger seat.

he joins you in the driver’s seat not long after. “can we get mcdonald’s?” you ask as soon as he sits down.

a smile appears on his face as he starts the car, “sure.”

the drive made you feel a little dizzy, it makes you laugh. “you okay?” jungkook asks, but you nod your head. he’s so sweet, always asking if you’re okay, making sure you weren’t feeling too awful, etc. it only makes sense that you were falling head over heels for him.

“totally fine,” you look over to him with a smile on your face. he’s so fucking pretty, his side profile is something you could rave about for days. as he’s pulling into the mcdonald’s drive through, he’s talking into the intercom, ordering the two of you something to eat when you’re suddenly mumbling, “mcflurry, kookie, oreo mcflurry.”

he looks back to you, an amused smile on his face, “oreo mcflurry?” he repeats. you nod, “okay, anything for you.”

he reiterates the request into the intercom and the server gives him the greenlight. he drives forward and waits until the next car moves up, in the time being, he looks to you. your head laying up against the door and your eyes slowly blinking, warning him that you might fall asleep. so he reaches into his backseat, his arm looking for the water bottles that he usually keeps in his car.

“hey,” he taps your arm gently, “drink some of this first.” he hands you the water bottle, you blink slowly, trying to figure out what he was handing you. once you realize it was a water bottle, you take it, opening it and gulping some of the water down. jungkook is grabbing the food when you’re screwing the cap back on. he parks somewhere in the parking lot and tells you to start eating.

you grab your mcflurry first, the feeling of the cold ice cream on your tongue soothing your dizzy brain. “yum,” you think out loud.

jungkook laughs, taking out his hamburger while he takes out your chicken nuggets. “make sure to eat some of this, yeah? don’t want you throwing up and hating me.”

the thought makes you smile. jungkook was taking such great care of you. sure, he let you down the alcohol like it was nothing, but you never opposed to it, always taking the shot because you wanted to. now jungkook is here, taking care of you, because he wanted to. you knew that if it were anybody else, they probably would have left you at the party, letting you fend for yourself. the sudden warmth in your chest makes you want to tell jungkook everything.

with his jacket wrapped around you instead of him, you can see the bulge of his arm muscles peek out from the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. even drunk, your brain seems to travel back to the images from your dream. “you know, i had a dream about you, a reeaaaallllllyyyyy dirty dream, jeon jungkook.” you blurt out the confession before your thoughts catch up with you, the alcohol still very much blocking off the common sense part of your brain.

he tries his best not to overreact, but you had a dream about him? a dirty dream at that? it awakens something in jungkook, but he pushes it down, ignoring the feeling as he asks, “you did? what was it about?” he curious as to what you meant and what your dream entailed, but he didn’t want to push too far. especially since you were drunk and most likely just spilling everything because your brain doesn’t have the willpower to hold it back.

you stick your hand into the bag to steal some fries, stuffing them in your mouth. “oh, you don’t wanna know,” you chew.

jungkook quirks a brow, “well, was i good at least?” he jokes.

you scrunch your nose, nodding nevertheless. “too good, couldn’t even focus during the quiz because of it.”

jungkook is silent for a second. the conversation making him hot even though he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. so he clears his throat, trying to change the subject in a subtle manner. “is that why you were so mean to me this morning?” he pouts, connecting the dots.

you laugh at the question, “sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear.”

with that, the rest of the time is spent eating. jungkook makes sure that you ate enough and drank enough water, the empty water bottle in his cupholder as proof. “do you want me to take you home now?” he asks, the two of you finished eating and now a silence takes over the car.

“are you going back?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. he thinks you’ve started to sober up, or maybe have gotten to the point where you just want to sleep.

he shakes his head to your question, “honestly, i’m kind of tired, but if you want to go back, we can go.”

“no, i’m okay,” you decline the offer. jungkook laughs, starting the car again and driving back to your apartment complex.

you take this time to try to get yourself together. you know you’ll regret confessing to jungkook that you had a wet dream about him in the morning. but in the moment, it felt right to confess, (to your drunken brain of course). you tilt your head back, pushing your head against the headrest, and suddenly, you’re reminded of the stars jungkook has on his ceiling. you were silent as you admired the lights, jungkook takes a look at you when he’s stopped at a red light.

so cute, he thinks, staring up at his ceiling like it’s the real night sky. when he pulls up to your apartment complex, he wishes the night could be longer, that he could spend more time with you. he parks the car in the front, exactly where he picked you up. you’re looking to him now, your hands in your lap and your heart seemingly beating three times as fast as it usually does. it wasn’t the alcohol.

“did you have fun tonight?” he asks. his voice never fails to make you melt.

you nod, “i did.”

“i’m glad,” he smiles. there’s a small silence before he speaks once more, “also, y’know, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much, i know you might have expectations for yourself and stuff, but you should give yourself a break from time to time.”

the alcohol’s effects fading slowly from your brain when you start to realize that the entire reason jungkook invited you out was to help you destress. it makes you fall even harder, he was so thoughtful. even though a party wasn’t your scene, he invited you to give you a glimpse into how he has fun and hoped that it would help you loosen up a bit. you were grateful for the mental break he provided you.

you didn’t reply, purely because you were thinking about how much you want to kiss him right now, but it wouldn’t be right. when he speaks up again, there’s a nervous lilt in his voice, scared that he’s overstepped. “if you need anyone to help you— i don’t know, let loose? you can— you can always call me.” he scratches the back of his neck.

but you try your best to reassure him, smiling at the offer. “i will, thank you for tonight, jungkook, i really enjoyed it, despite being a lightweight.”

he laughs, staring at the way your face cutely scrunches when you giggle. he too, is fighting the urge to kiss you, because right now isn’t a good time. he wants to do it right. he doesn’t want to fuck it up with you. so instead, he hops out of the car and moves to open the door for you. helping you out of the car and walking you to your door, your hand in his.

“i’ll see you in class?” you turn to face him, squeezing his hand.

he nods, “yeah.” his signature bunny smile coming out to greet you a goodnight. “text me before you sleep?” he requests. you give him a thumbs up before he’s letting go of your hand and you’re sticking the key into your door, it’s then that you realize that you’re still wearing his jacket.

“oh!” you exclaim, taking the jacket off and handing it to him. but he holds his hand out to stop you.

“keep it, you can give it to me the next time we hang out, or something,” he suggests. you try to hide the growing smile behind a nod.

you hold onto his jacket, “goodnight, jungkook.”

he sticks his hands in his pockets, sending you another grin, “goodnight, ___.”

jungkook drives home, his empty apartment welcoming him. he plops down onto his bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes he was in because he was that tired. the events of today running through his mind.

he hopes you don’t think he was doing anything with those five girls. he saw you walk away when you did, he tried his best to escape the conversation, but they kept pulling him back. he gave up after ten tries of trying to get away, standing there for a good fifteen minutes listening to them babble about how much they missed him. jungkook had never rolled his eyes so many times in a conversation.

the talk the two of you had after was another thing taking over his mind. your dirty flirting and your dream you mentioned in the car had his imagination running all over the place. he didn’t want to push you when you explained, but he was very curious as to what he did in your dream, and how good it was for you to have it run through your mind all day.

his phone rings next to him. he turns and opens it, a smile on his face when he reads your message.

[12:32 am] you: hi jungkookieeeeeeeee

[12:33 am] you: im sleeping noww

[12:33 am] jungkook: alright cutie

[12:33 am] jungkook: goodnight! again 😂

[12:34 am] you: goodnight <3

he turns his phone off after that. looking up to his ceiling with a dumb smile on his face. his mind thinking of you and only you.

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eternally-writing · 3 years

Text

splish splash | myg

genre : fluff

rating : G

pairing: Yoongi x reader

theme: idol!au, established relationship! au

word count: 2k

warnings: none

synopsis: After a long day, you and Yoongi try to take a bath together

This was a request from @gloryofroses19 that you can read here!

–♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡–

“You look dead, babe”

Yoongi was standing at your door, knocking on your door instead of pulling out his spare key since he was so tired. He looked a little bit like a zombie, except a very handsome one.

He knew that you would always have his favorite snacks on hand so he could always come to your place after practice to enjoy some tangerines and get some time away from the dorms (after all, after 7 hours of practice with the boys he did need a break from him), and to be honest, with how tired felt he didn’t even know how he managed to drive himself over to your place.

“Oof, i need to sit down babygirl, today was brutal and my muscles are going to give out on me if I try to take another step”

He plopped down with a grunt onto your couch, pulling a pillow into his chest. He immediately sank like a heavy rock in the ocean into the soft material of your couch.

Shaking your head at your boyfriend clearly having overworked himself, you walked over with a plate of oranges and a glass of cold water.

“I can’t give you the same rant about not overworking yourself every week Yoongi,” you said with a slightly frustrated tone. You continued on to explain why he needed to take care of himself - all with love though of course.

Taking one hand to rub it through his hair, you sat on the arm of the couch beside him.

He couldn’t help the light moan that escaped his lips at your hands caressing his scalp. It was a sharp contrast to how his muscles felt a mere couple of hours ago at the dance studio.

Lightly grabbing your hand, he tried to move it away.

“Baby you have to stop, or I’m - “

He stopped partway to let you a big yawn, stretching his legs simultaneously. You could practically feel him unravel under your touch, voicing his reactions to you.

“What was I saying again? I’m gonna, I’m gonna fall asleep babe,” murmured Yoongi with half closed eyelids.

“Just stay the night, you look way too exhausted to even move,” you cooed to him, taking in his exhausting figure beneath you.

Yoongi groaned, wishing that he could accept your offer, but he knew he really shouldn’t (especially if he wanted to get to practice at 8am tomorrow).

“Trust me babe, I would, but I need to shower so badly. You and I both know that I stink right now.”

You laughed and hugged him tightly for effect.

“That’s a non-issue Yoongi. I love you, even if you smell like…”

You took a dramatic whiff in to smell your boyfriend.

“Sweat and tteokbokki and…” Your face turned in confusion as you tried to decipher the last smell. Yoongi jumped in to finish your sentence.

“Taehyung’s new cologne”

You repeated it affirmatively with a slight grimace painting your face. “Taehyung’s new cologne.”

To his dismay, you began to drag your boyfriend off of your couch and towards your bathroom, because you were not about to let your freshly-washed sheets pick up Yoongi’s scent.

--♡♡–

It didn’t take an engineer to see that fitting both you and Yoongi into your bathtub was going to be no simple task.

Your studio apartment was the perfect size for you to live in before you started dating Yoongi. Over time, Yoongi started by having a toothbrush in your bathroom, then his clothes started to form a small pile in your bedroom, then you cleared out part of a drawer for him. Somehow, your apartment seemed to grow to accommodate the two of you together. Correction: all of your apartment seemed to grow to fit the two of you except for your bathtub.

Until Yoongi came into your life you believed showers were just about hygiene, a quick 5 minutes to hop in, scrub down your body, and hop out. Yoongi on the other hand, found that baths were the biggest luxury he missed during all of his trainee days. One time when he took a bath at your place you put in a tangerine scented bath bomb you bought him for Christmas, and he swore he saw heaven with how relaxed the bath made him.

Although throughout your relationship Yoongi had managed to convince you to try many new things (like drinking a cup of water before every meal or watching Brooklyn Nine Nine), he had yet to convince you to try the so-called wonders of baths. That was at least until now.

Compromise was basically Yoongi’s middle name, as he conceded to your pleas for him to sleep over with the condition that you take a bath with him. He mustered up his last bits of energy to throw some puppy dog eyes at you that you knew you couldn’t resist. And the smile that graced his face after you said yes confirmed to you that you definitely made the right decision.

That brought you to here. You and Yoongi were just staring at your tiny tiny tub, wondering how this was even going to work. Putting the knowledge from your one high school physics class to work, you realized that you would need to fill the tub with less water than usual.

As soon as the tub was filled, Yoongi was quick to shed his clothes and hop in, immediately moaning in response to how the water instantly began to relax his muscles. He took a couple seconds to enjoy the sensation before beckoning for you to join him.

Still apprehensive, you hoped that you could back out of your deal and tried to make him settle for you just sitting on the edge of the tub, promising to wash his hair (and in the words of your favorite TV character Charles Boyle, it was the most intimate thing you could do to a partner with your fingers).

However, Yoongi started to splash some water like a frustrated child, begging for you to join him with his open arms. The sight of your boyfriend eager to spend time with you was something that you couldn’t resist. You started to peel off your shorts and sweater and then took your favorite place - right in Yoongi’s arms. However, you didn’t reach that without any difficulties, bumping your arm on three different places before reaching your man.

You hit a slight snag as you realized that your knees were barely extended away from your chest, unable to even stretch out your legs. Half submerged in the water, you craned your head around to give Yoongi a look that said “I told you so, this isn’t going to work”.

Not taking no for an answer, Yoongi pulled you closer to him in his lap, placing you on his thighs to give you a couple extra inches of leg room. His hands also crawled up to your shoulders, started to lightly massage the knots that had accumulated over time. The relaxation that overcame you was overwhelming - your head came to rest on his shoulder, letting his magic fingers work their way over you.

“Mmm Yoongi, I thought this was supposed to help you relax? And even though this feels amazing, I want to help you relax.”

Yoongi didn’t stop his ministrations, and he whispered in your ear.

“You’re another part of me, Y/N. Seeing you relaxed makes me feel even more relaxed.”

You grinned at his sweet words and wanted to give him a big kiss, but that proved to be a difficult task as you felt your knee collide with the side of the porcelain tub with a bang.

Hearing you groan in pain, Yoongi immediately scooped you closer into his arms, bringing your knee up to be inspected by him. With his self-learned medical knowledge, he declared that the bump was nothing a little kiss couldn’t fix, and he began to pepper kisses all over your knee, getting distracted as his kisses also started drifting upwards on your thighs. The scenario seemed all too silly and domestic, and it made you both laugh harder than you should. You pulled his head away from your body, knowing that he was far too tired to get through anything but that he would get caught up in his ministrations.

After you both resumed your original positions, Yoongi swept a hand through his hair and pulled you closer to him. He leaned closer to whisper in your ear and you expected to hear him whisper sweet nothings to you - instead in Yoongi-fashion, he had instead blurted out -

“Should we put some bubbles in here?”

Instantly, you chuckled. Still not receiving an answer from you, Yoongi continued on.

“You keep telling me that you haven’t had a bath since you were little - and who doesn’t like bubbles?”

Yoongi had a great point, and your next question of “where are we even going to find bubble solution” was quickly answered by your boyfriend pointing to a gracious welcoming gift that had been collecting dust on a shelf in your bathroom.

--♡♡–

For most couples, a romantic bath probably meant that there would be candles and rose petals, but you and Yoongi didn’t need all that. Each others’ presence was all you’ve ever wanted and all you’ve ever needed (although the bubbles were a nice addition).

You felt Yoongi’s fingers tapping on you on the shoulder, gesturing for you to attempt to turn around to face him.

You were met with the sight of Yoongi piling bubbles onto his chin to create a faux beard. He was unable to stop his giggles from bubbling over, making the bubbles on his face fly off into the air.

“C’mon, give it a try Y/N”.

His hands were full of bubbles and he began layering them on top of your head, making something that one could only assume was a party hat created out of bubbles.

“That’s my pretty girl”

No matter how many times Yoongi said that to you, it still brought a blush onto your cheeks. You leaned in to give him a peck on the lips, only to grimace as you were met with the taste of soap in your mouth.

With more stolen kisses, some light shoulder massages, and a couple bumps and snags as you navigated your tiny tub, you and Yoongi managed to relax and unwind after a long, tiring day.

“I love you Y/N”

You smiled and let yourself relax further into his hold.

“I love you too babe, always”

“Enough to clean up all the water that we’ve spilled out of your bathtub by now?”

You playfully splashed your boyfriend, tickling his sides slightly to make him squirm before you settled back into his hold.

“Oh shush, that’s a later problem, just let me enjoy cuddling with you for now. The smell of Taehyung’s new cologne is finally starting to fade.”

Maybe baths weren’t so bad after all.

–♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡–

If you like what you read please make sure to interact/follow! Thank you for reading ♡ - Emily

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emmyisafanandacon · 3 years

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭!𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐱 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

[FLUFF] Word Count: 2083 words It’s a very hot day out in the field, which is unfortunate since ground operations are currently ongoing today. You were hoping to delay the operations further down another term, but unfortunately, the backlog operations from the pandemic were ridiculous, so you decided to take your missed simulations all in one day. What a shame that you had to choose the hottest day of the year, it seems. So now here you are, sitting on a chair in the giant hangar as you wait for your head instructor to come back with your assigned instructor for your ground operations. The shade from the hangar may be some comfort, but it truly felt like the heat was bouncing off the asphalt. You quietly pray that it would not affect the aircraft you need to taxi, and hope that it would be a little cooler in the aircraft.

Probably not. It’s a single-engine aircraft. The metal might exacerbate the heat for you. You sigh out your discomfort and looked around. Around you were a bunch of different aircraft, some of the models you recognize from your classes. You hold back a small grimace, as you remember the last time you did your aircraft taxiing, your instructor pilot was a bit strict on your taxi control, requiring you to stay perfectly in the middle of the runway for the taxi. It was a miracle you passed that term. God, it feels like it has been 10 minutes since you last saw your head instructor. But he seemed to have disappeared out of nowhere. You just hope that the pilot assigned to you was a decent one. “Excuse me?” You turn around to find yourself staring at one of the newer pilots you saw hanging around the faculty. A tall young man gives you a sheepish grin, his grey eyes twinkling with jittery energy. He’s dressed in a typical pilot’s uniform, with a brown leather briefcase hanging from his shoulder. You’ve heard about him several times from some of your schoolmates, the new cute pilot with fluffy brown hair and a charming smile. He’s caught the attention of so many people, so it’s pretty interesting to finally meet the actual person. “Hi. I am so sorry that I took too long, that was very unprofessional of me.” he scratches the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t waiting too long.” you lied. “The head instructor told me to wait here, I’m guessing it’s my turn on the aircraft?” He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, “Unfortunately, there have been some setbacks on the scheduling. We might have to wait a bit longer before the run-up operation.” “It’s okay. I guess I’ll wait a little longer.” “I'm truly sorry about that,” he begins to look around the hangar. “They asked you to wait here?” “…Yes?” He looks up at the bright blue sky peering out of the hangar’s roof, blinking at the sun’s bright glare from the concrete ground. “Maybe it’s best if we stayed in the pilot’s lounge, that way you wouldn't have to stay in this heat.” He glances back to you with a nervous smile, his eyes almost iridescent. “If that’s okay with you! I was just thinking that the hangar might not be the best place to stay in. It’s a bit hot today that’s all.” You smile at the skittish instructor. “It’s alright Captain. I’m fine with waiting in the pilot’s lounge.” His cheeks began to turn red, as he gives a flustered giggle. “I- Please don’t call me that, it makes me feel a bit older than I should. I think we’re quite close in age after all.” “Okay,” you smile cheekily at him, saving the fact that he gets embarrassed quickly in mind for future references. “What should I call you then?” “Ah, sorry! I forgot to introduce myself,” he extends a hand out to you, “My name is Capt. Karl Jacobs. I’m one of the new flight instructors. Though you can call me Karl instead, I’d rather not follow protocol.” “[Y/N], Aerospace Engineering, Year 3.” He raises a brow, “Aerospace Engineering? Very interesting, what’s it like to have that course?” “If you can handle eons of mathematics, it’s not a bad course to have,” you laugh. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can handle that much math, I’d rather leave that to better people like you. Shall we head to the lounge?” You nod, as you sit up and you start to gather your belongings to head to the pilot’s lounge. But Karl stops you and grabs your bag for you, giving you a wink as he starts to walk inside. You weren’t expecting that, but it’s not uncommon for flying students to try to be chivalrous towards their company. You follow him in, though you find your thoughts catching up to you. It’s absurd, you think, calling a pilot by their first name. Normally calling the pilots by their name was strange, but Karl clearly isn’t like the other pilots or the flying students you constantly rub elbows with. “Karl…” You try, slightly cringing at the lack of Captain or Sir. “Isn’t it a bit rebellious to not follow protocol? What would the other captains

say?” you jest at him as he leads you through the empty hallways. He gives you a little smile. “It’s fine for me. Don’t you call the AMT technicians and the AE engineers by their names?” You roll your eyes at him. “Well, that’s because we see them more often, and we’re more familiar with each other, so it’s fine to call them by their names. Though aren’t you guys stricter with the flying students?” He laughs at that, “We are, but you’re not a flying student. Unless… Do you plan on switching?” You shake your head, “Nope, you’re talking to an engineer through and through.” As you uttered those words, you both found yourselves in front of the pilot lounge’s entrance. He opens the door and holds the door for you expectantly, the cold air from the lounge blasting around you. You give a small smile of gratitude and enter, noticing that the lounge is also empty. “Why aren’t there many people around? Aren’t there students taking their required hours too?” You ask Karl as you seat yourself in one of the many chairs around the lounge, dropping your things down a table. “From what I understood, contact has to be limited still, and that there aren’t many students who have scheduled their ground operation schedule yet. So not many people should be on the grounds right now.” He explains as he brings out a folder from his bag taking the seat next to you. “Do you have your ground operations info sheet? I’ll help you fill out the details of the aircraft we should be using today.” You look at him in surprise, “Usually the technicians are the ones who help us fill this out, aren’t you the one who’s supposed to grade me instead?” He gives a cheery smile in response. “It’s fine, we don’t have much to do anyway as we wait. We might as well fill out the form, besides,” he lifts the grading rubric he has in his hand. “I’ll still grade you fairly based on your taxiing performance. Nothing to worry about.” You give him an impassive look, to which he laughs in response. “I won’t have too high expectations, I swear! I’m only strict towards flying students.” he raises his hands in defense. You sigh, but you allow him to take a look at your information sheet, filling up the details of the aircraft with his help. He stays close to you the whole time, and you can almost feel his fluffy curls touch your hair lightly, his warmth cascading over you lightly as you try to focus on your sheet. His hands meeting yours from time to time as he points at different parts of the info sheet, directing you on what to write. After the sheet was completed, you hand your sheet for Karl to keep and you fell into simple conversation, discussing technical things, like how it’s like to be an instructor or a pilot. Karl answered with an excitable passion for all questions, almost like a cute puppy receiving a treat. (“But wasn't the exam difficult? I heard so many people failed it.” “It took me one month to study for it.” “…Wow.”) Soon, the questions delved into personal territory, from why you chose to be an engineer and eventually fell into Karl’s many adventures as a flying student. (“How are you still a pilot?” “I have no clue either that was incredibly dumb of me too.” “Have you at least fixed your Monster addiction problem?” “…..Hey so, what do you guys do in that laboratory of yours?” “DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT KARL.”) You both learned so much about each other, learning that you two were only two years from each other. (“How did I not meet you sooner when you were still a student?” “I was always in the library.” “Like a nerd?” “No, I- Hey! Take that back!”) An hour passed, and soon the head instructor entered the lounge, notifying the both of you that it is your turn for the ground operation training, apologizing for the long delay. And yet, you don’t feel frustration for the long wait. You follow Karl and your head instructor out into the runway where the aircraft was dropped off by another duo taking the taxiing procedure. You both rush into the plane, climbing in as the propellers burst large gusts of air. The previous pilot

quickly switched places with Karl, as you greet your fellow student as you try to climb in. Once you got in the aircraft, you felt both excited and nervous as Karl looks through your paper. “Ready to taxi?” He asks with a cheery grin. You give him a small nod, as you watch him turn on the engine to a slow speed for the aircraft to start moving. “Remember to stay in the middle of the runway, and you can adjust the speed of the engine if you want the aircraft to go faster.” Pushing the pedals on your feet to center the aircraft onto the runway, you try to follow the white middle line on the concrete as best as you can. You find yourself slightly gripping the yolk, as you try to point the nose of the aircraft straight at the middle. Karl encourages you the whole time as you go for a turn towards the left. You notice another aircraft taxiing nearby and try to maintain a distance away from them, slowing to give them space. Karl smiles in acknowledgment as you still try to keep the pace and distance steady the best you can. He starts pointing out parts of the aircraft to you, introducing the flight instruments as you continue to steer the aircraft around the runway. Eventually, he directs you to park the aircraft to a specific area. As soon as the aircraft falls to a full stop, he gives your info sheet with a smile. “Congratulations, full marks. Maybe you could be a pilot instead, and fly with me?” He teases. You smile back at him, “I won’t be flying the plane anytime soon, but maybe I’ll work with you sometime in the future?” He giggles at the idea, “Let’s see. See you someday engineer, hope I’m your instructor again soon.” “See you someday, Captain Karl Jacobs.” You grin as you clamber out of the plane with the help of some technicians outside and head back to the hangar to check your info sheet. Exactly as he said, he graded your procedure with perfect marks, giving excellent praise and comments on your driving. Before you thought of passing the paper to your head instructor, you noticed a white sticky note attached at the back of the paper with a small message written on it. ‘It was fun talking to you, maybe you’d be up for more of that another time? Just shooting my shot. XXXX-XXX-XXXX -Karl <3’ You smile at the sticky note, keeping it in your pocket as you hand over your info sheet to your head instructor as he dismissed you off. As you head out towards the exit, you send a text out to the number. ‘Sure, coffee date sometime? Good luck on instructing everyone else. <3 -Future Engineer’

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢 𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 20 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘢 𝘢 𝘢

𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯

𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳! 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵!

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x you #karl jacobs x y/n #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #mcyt imagine #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 1/13 read here on ao3!

my piece for @harringrovebigbang!

Art and moodboard from my amazing team, @monochromegee and @shewritesdirty respectively, to come soon!

~~~~

Six months. Six months and twelve days.

That’s how long Billy has been in the hospital. In a coma. His health rapidly deteriorating.

After one month it was required he be put on a ventilator. Two and his wounds started getting infected. By month three, the hospital asked that a representative be chosen for him, just in case he didn’t pull through.

Neil Hargrove refused. Barked into the receiver something along the lines of, “What do I care if the boy wanted to go and get himself killed?” It was entirely defensive, his voice cracking as he finished his sentence, but the hospital still never contacted him again, not for updates or bills or anything. His wife was far too busy taking care of one grieving child and a lazy husband already to worry about an additional burden.

All of Billy’s extended family was still in California, had written him off years before they’d even left home for Indiana anyways. The moment his mother walked out the door, nobody else wanted him either, so they were off the table too.

The town of Hawkins had been turned inside out by the deaths of more than thirty community members, some of which were still being reported as missing so many months later. Nobody had the time, or in many cases the heart, to take care of the lone survivor.

That left only one person. The one who’d been taking care of him even before he’d fallen into a coma. The one who’d understood him better than anyone else, who’d given him a chance, who’d loved him more than anything.

Steve gets a call from the hospital, the way he is usually woken up these days. Every other morning, as soon as visitation opens, a nurse calls him for a quick update. The duties of a representative for someone unconscious, for his Billy in a coma.

He’s beyond exhausted, dragging himself to and from Hawkins General day in and day out, sometimes bringing Max or a few of the other kids along with him. Mostly because every day is the same thing, walking through the halls, facing the polite smiles from nurses who deal with this on the daily, don’t understand the way it feels to see the one you love on that bed.

If he does hear anything new, it’s usually not good news. He knows Billy is getting worse, but still he sits in that room for countless hours, watching and waiting for the moment he’s struck with a miracle, and he comes back to him.

The hospital is not quite as patient though, and since about month four of Billy’s hospital stay, they’d been encouraging Steve to consider his wards right to die. After so much time had passed by without signs of improvement, the nurses had started hesitating in the doorway when he was around, and offering kind little suggestions that were supposed to push him towards the decision to let Billy go.

Things like, “It’s not really him anymore, honey.” and, “He’s getting worse by the minute, poor thing.”, and Steve’s favorite, the one that made him leave the hospital in tears, “If he wanted to wake up, he would have done it by now.”

But no matter how true what they were saying may have been, Steve really did not want to hear it. The only reason the thought of letting Billy go had ever crossed the minds of doctors and nurses was because of what was on the news, all these up and coming stories about hospital ethics committees that were popping up all over the country recently.

They were being selfish, willing to let Billy die just because they were scared they wouldn’t be able to stand the heat that would come from keeping an eighteen year old boy on life support for as long as they had. Whether or not they actually thought they could save him was a question for another day.

So they would mail Steve countless papers and claims and pamphlets to try to reason with him, to persuade him that the best thing to do was to kill Billy because they didn’t want to deal with him anymore. It made him sick to his stomach, to think that people who were supposedly trained to help people were so hellbent on giving up on a patient.

He wonders sometimes, if they wouldn’t be so hasty to pull the plug had he been an easier case. If his father was more supportive and his biological mother present, or if the government hadn’t worked so hard to cover up the origin of his injuries. Maybe even if his representative was a nice young woman instead.

But there’s nothing he can do about it, so he just crumples the papers and ignores their premature condolences, and goes to visit Billy at every moment he can.

The drive to the hospital that particular morning feels like it takes a whole day instead of the 20 minutes the route actually is, Steve feeling like he’s suspended in time. It doesn’t seem real, taking the stairs up to the second floor, elevators were a no go after the free fall he took at Starcourt, and taking a visitor sticker and a bunch of papers from the woman at the reception desk.

He’s walked this route more times than he can count, but this time he can feel that something is wrong, different. On the top of the very first sheet the desk lady hands him, in bold black letters, are the printed words “Right-to-Die” and Steve already knows what is coming.

The woman gives him a half sympathetic look and reads off her scripted spiel. “The Hargrove boy has been unresponsive for six months now, with no signs of improvement in his condition. The recently instituted hospital ethics board wants you to seriously consider the contents of these forms.”

The words are so hollow, the look on her face mostly bored. Steve guesses this same speech was probably given to a thousand other people who’d come through this hospital, and it makes him feel nauseated just listening to it, her less than genuine pity as she reads off her clipboard, making it seem like she doesn’t even care what she is asking of him.

“It’s of course among your rights as representative to say no, but we want to remind you that he has no quality of life being artificially kept alive, and it might be best to let him go.”

“No, they told me he couldn’t feel anything. He’s not suffering.” Steve insists, and as much as he believes that he is right, the confidence in his voice is false. This was something he’d been thinking about every day for the last half a year. “You’ve kept him alive this long, right? That’s got to mean something.”

“Still, this is about him. We just want you to think about if keeping him alive is the right thing to do anymore when we can’t be sure what he’s going through. When he isn’t himself.”

Of course this was something he’d considered in his own mind, six months is a long time, and it was inevitable that a few times on his worst days, he’d have to think about pulling the plug. It was just so different hearing this nurse who didn’t know Billy insisting on it, it was just so impersonal, and it made him think about the hospital's greed, and how they probably just wanted to save money on ventilators and open up another bed.

Without saying another word to her, Steve walks away without the clipboard of papers, and off to room B-216. Of course he'd known this was coming. They’d been trying to drop hints since the moment Billy stopped being able to breathe on his own, but he’d been in denial. As long as Billy's heart was still beating, Steve had hope that he would recover if the doctors would just try.

Still, as he sits down in the chair next to Billy’s bed, he decides he doesn’t want to call Max today. He takes the desk woman's advice, as angry as it made him, and takes the time to truly reflect on the boy in that bed, with the feeding tube down his throat, the respirator breathing for him beside his bed, the IV in his neck, there because the veins in his arms had been so overused.

His hair is much longer now, just past his collarbones, but without maintenance, his blonde curls are knotted and dull. His skin is unnaturally pale, his freckles faded to nothing, and his whole body is littered with angry, dark red scars. The hole in the center of his chest still isn’t all the way healed, and the nurses are constantly fighting to keep it free of infection.

When he wakes up, they say he will be in immense pain and that he will have forgotten how to walk and talk and probably even breathe on his own. There was a chance too that his memory will have gaps in it, which could mean anything from forgetting what happened to him in July, to not even knowing his own name.

Basically if, no- when he wakes up, he won’t really be Billy.

Steve had always heard about and seen in the movies coma patients who twitch their fingers or moved their eyes, or who really give any signs of life, miraculously waking up and being themselves again, but Billy, he had only done the opposite.

At some point, he has to accept that Billy won’t be like one of those other patients, and, in the condition he is in, all pale skin and open wounds and zero signs of responsiveness, they were only prolonging his death. They had tried just about everything they could thanks to Steve’s willingness to cover the expenses, and, although he didn’t want to believe it, maybe just couldn’t accept it quite yet, it was, as the nurse had said, time to think about letting Billy go.

Not today though. He’d spend today with him at the very least, trying to push those thoughts to the back of his mind while he still could. The nurses used to say, when Billy had first been admitted and they still thought there was a chance of recovery, that Steve and Max, whenever she could come, should try talking to him, and Steve always did.

He never really has a whole lot to say, not since everything has been calming down recently. There were no more funerals to attend, no more grieving families to take a hot dish and his condolences to. The kids didn’t need him to watch them anymore, and Family Video had decided to lay him off until he didn’t have to make daily hospital commutes and he could work again. Basically, Steve’s entire world was Billy.

So it was only fair that Billy was what he usually talked about, reminiscing about everything they’d gotten to do together before the accident, telling him about what was happening with his sister now that she was getting older, and giving him updates on how many days it had been and how much he missed and loved him. One of the nurses had heard him say that once, seen him lean forwards and press a kiss to Billys forehead, but she had only turned away, pretending she hadn’t noticed.

Today though, it was much harder than usual to think of something to say to him. He always tried to leave all of the bad stuff at the door, didn’t think it would do Billy any good if he could even hear, to be listening to him always complaining or moping about their situation, but with death weighing heavy on his mind, what else was there to think about?

The anger and the remorse and the depression would be for when he went home tonight and downed a whole bottle of Fireball, Billy’s favorite whiskey, and called Robin drunk off his ass at two in the morning to tell her about how terrible he felt.

It was because he loved Billy with all of his heart that he wouldn’t put him through that. Even if it hurt more than anything else to see his love broken down and dying, which was, in Steve’s opinion, the worst thing that had ever happened to him, he always wore a smile on his face every day he walked into that hospital room.

As hard as that was, and as guilty as it made him feel to admit, Billy's sickness wasn’t the only thing making Steve miserable. He had also been through some unimaginable things himself while trapped in the Starcourt mall, and he didn't come out the other side the same.

Nightmares plagued him constantly, so that when he would eventually come back home from the hospital, he didn’t sleep more than fifteen minutes through the night. Being alone for too long warped his perception of reality, made him think everyone he knew and loved was gone, that he’d been abandoned or all his friends killed. He would constantly call to check on them, most of the time drunk and panicking, but they’d stopped picking up after the first few times. There were so many triggers too that could send him back to that night in an instant, where he’d just get stuck again.

And perhaps that is exactly why he can’t let Billy go so easily, because even if it is heartbreaking and makes him feel so empty inside being there with a version of his Billy who couldn’t speak to him or who he couldn’t hold, he was still alive. If he died now, Steve would have nothing. It would be no different from the losses everyone had suffered, the death of the chief of police and at least thirty other community members robbing them of their soundness of mind.

Letting go of Billy would just be another blow, to him and to the tight-knit community who had come so close together after the accident that rocked their little town. You wouldn't be able to tell from the fact that his room was always empty except for Steve or his sister, but the papers had revered him as a hero. Who he’d become after being hospitalized meant his death wouldn't just affect loved ones.

But more than any of that, he just didn’t want to give up on him. Pulling the plug meant sacrificing so many more moments they could have together, losing the chance to move on from what had happened. How could Steve ever know when it was the right time to do that?

When was it safe to say that Billy wouldn’t ever recover, and that they were just stretching out the inevitable? When could he feel right in letting his very best friend and the love of his life die? Deep down, past his initial reaction of shock and heartbreak, he knows he’ll never truly be ready to say goodbye, but that now was that time regardless.

Just like the nurses said, he wasn’t really Billy anymore. Who he’d been was a teenage boy with too much energy to burn, always getting into trouble and always in motion, bouncing his knee, twisting the ring on his middle finger or the locket around his neck, chain smoking cigarette after cigarette. It used to drive Steve insane how he wouldn’t sit still for anything, but now he would give anything just to have that back.

There was no personality left in him, no stupid jokes to cheer Steve up, no pestering his sister and her friends like a big brother does, nothing left in him at all that made him distinctly Billy. Steve wondered if maybe he had already given up.

If maybe, Billy wasn’t even in there at all anymore, and they were holding on to nothing just to feed their own selfishness. Steve wasn’t the most emotional of people, usually panicking before he got upset, but he could feel tears pricking at his eyes now, as he watched the slow rise and fall of Billy’s, or not Billy’s, chest, and listened to the beeps and hums of the machines that kept him going.

He knew what needed to be done. Just not today.

For now, he holds Billy's hand, unmoving and just warm enough that he could tell he was alive, and whispered to him anything that came to his mind.

If Billy could hear him, he knew he was probably tired of hearing the same stories over and over, thinking of Billy waking up and complaining about Steve being too boring made him chuckle to himself. An instant pang of regret tightens his chest, feeling guilty for being happy.

There was a really sweet nurse about the age of his mother who always checked in on him at the same time everyday, like he was the one with tubes and machines sticking out of his body. Her name was Dale, and she always peeked her head into the room around meal times to ask if he had been down to the cafeteria yet. Usually he hadn’t, and sometimes he still forgot to eat anyways, but it meant a lot to him.

Today though, she came all the way in the room, a sad look on her face, and he had to avoid her gaze entirely to keep himself from breaking down, choosing instead to focus on Billy’s slender fingers where he’d laced them through his own.

“Steve, honey, I know this is really hard for you, it’s hard for all of us when something like this happens, but you need to take care of yourself.” She was just being kind, but he wouldn’t hear it.

If this was going to be the last full day he’d ever spend with Billy, he was going to make it count. A soggy sandwich in the dingy old cafeteria wasn’t worth spending a single moment away from the other boy's bedside. He feels vaguely guilty about it, but he ignores the well meaning nurse, even as she says her generic condolences that all of them were trained to say.

He smooths out Billy's hair, brushing the part that always hung in his eyes to the side carefully, something Billy himself had always seemed to do when he was nervous. It reminds him of the time they tried to do each other's hair and Billy taught him how to make a braid, so he tells Billy about it.

When he hears the distant roar of a car's engine from the open window, it reminds him of the first time Billy drove him home in the now totaled beyond recognition Camaro, so he talks about that. A bird landing on the windowsill reminds him of sitting on Billy’s bed and talking about the seagulls and the beaches back in California where Billy had grown up, so he tells Billy that story too. The phone ringing at the receptionist's desk down the hallway reminds him of the time Billy had called him in the middle of the night to invite him out to the quarry, where they’d kissed for the first time and Steve clumsily asked him to make things official, so again, he told Billy all about it.

It's mostly a comfort to himself, keeping his mind off of the reality of the situation, but then the desk lady announces over the overhead system that visiting hours are over, and it’s time for him to go.

They had been giving him a lot of leeway here at Hawkins General, allowing him to visit every single day and sometimes with a 14 year old, which was strictly against the rules of the ICU. The end of visiting hours was a rule they always stood by though, and despite how much it crushed him to leave Billy by himself overnight, he always did it.

On his way out, he grabbed the stack of papers the receptionist tried to give him off of her desk. He would call Susan in the morning and ask her what she thought. He would try to involve her in the choice, since she’d technically claimed Billy as her dependent after her marriage to his father, who had given enough verbal and written agreements that he wanted nothing at all to do with his son while he was hospitalized that his wife could, and had, stepped in.

He went home that night with the thought in his head that this was the last time he’d do this, and by this time tomorrow, Billy would be dead.

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#so excited to start sharing!#chapter two will be on tumblr later today!#it’s up on ao3 already if you wanna get ahead!

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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #192

Today on Fate and Phantasms we're building the enchanting Caster of Okeanos, which despite her name doesn't actually show up in Okeanos, but rather the fourth pseudosingularity, Salem. She's also one of the last servants in the game (so far) to have her true name hidden, so pretty soon I can stop pointing out how her character build below the cut has true name spoilers. Specifically, this build also includes spoilers for the Salem pseudosingularity, so read at your own peril.

If you'd rather just check out her character sheet, you can find that over here.

Next up: The equal to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, so just, equal to heaven, I guess.

Circe is a Transmutation Wizard, because she is a witch, and Transmutation is where they stuck polymorph.

Race and Background

Like her protege, Circe is an Elf, but if we want kindasorta falcon wings, that might be tricky. Just kidding, for some reason WotC thought winged elves were a priority, so we got Avariel Elves from an unearthed arcana. This means you only get +2 to a single stat, but we can make that Intelligence thanks to Tasha's for a brain blast. Your subrace gives you 30' of flying speed as long as you don't wear medium or heavy armor (not an issue), as well as the standard elf kit: Darkvision, Fey Ancestry to protect against charms, Trances instead of sleep, and proficiency in Perception thanks to your Keen Senses.

Circe lives on her island alone (if you don't count pigs) so that makes her a Hermit, privy to the secrets of the universe as well as Medicine and replacing the other proficiency (which we'll get back as a class proficiency) with Deception. Tricking men into turning into pigs is kind of a hobby for you.

Ability Scores

Your strongest score should go into Intelligence, that's how you cast spells, and also you're clearly more intelligent than the men who show up on your island. Speaking of, Charisma is next- you're a witch in the middle of a witch hunt that somehow never got caught, and there's also that whole Pig Island thing. Your Dexterity is also pretty good, it's hard enough to cast spells while walking, let alone flying. Also those heels, oh my fucking god how have you not broken an ankle yet. Your Constitution is above average mostly because I'd feel bad putting it any lower. That means your Wisdom is pretty low. You publicly introduce yourself as a witch in the middle of the Salem Witch Trials, and you're pretty flighty in general. Finally, dump Strength. You're a wizard, and you're clearly not that buff.

Class Levels

Circe is a wizard, meaning she starts off with proficiency in Intelligence and Wisdom saves, as well as Arcana and Religion. When you worship the goddess of magic, there isn't much of a difference, tbh. Speaking of magic, you can cast and prepare Spells using your Intelligence. Your spell slots normally only recharge on long rests, but once per long rest you can get a couple slots back on a short rest thanks to your Arcane Recovery, giving you back slots of a total level equal to half your wizard level rounded up. So when you hit level three, you can get back one 2nd level slot, or two 1st level slots. The thing about wizard is, they get a lot of spells. Six now, and two each level, plus whatever they can scavenge from other wizards. Since Circe's whole power set is "good at magic", there really isn't a set of spells that fit- any spell you could cast would be applicable. So rather than try to boil it down myself, we're just giving a rough guide here. There's a whole ass list on the character sheet, and we'll bring up the super important ones here, but really there's three qualifications: if a spell fits into one of these categories, Circe would probably have it. 1. Is it useful? The most open-ended, but just fill in spaces left by the other 2 with spells you want. I'm not a goddamn baby sitter, pick spells you like. 2. Can it turn one thing into another? Men to pigs, You into Medea, whatever kykeon is made out of into kykeon, this one's pretty easy to spot. 3. Can it help someone sail a ship? A bit specific, but helping the sailors she doesn't turn into pigs is also Circe's thing. Skill empowerment, weather control, that kind of thing. With all that out of the way, the big spells you'll probably want at first level are Mage Armor for not dying, Magic Missile for caster balls, and Sleep to knock out the sailors while you go around turning them to pigs. True Polymorph takes an hour per sailor and you need to recharge with a long rest, so this’ll take a while.

At second level, you become a Transmutation Savant, giving you all sorts of bonuses, like how copying transmutation spells into your book is cheaper and faster now. You can also make Minor Alchemy, turning 1 cubic foot of wood, stone, iron, copper, or silver, into another material on that list over the course of 10 minutes. You're not strong enough to shatter wooden chains either, but hopefully someone on your team is. This transformation lasts up to an hour or until you lose concentration, then it turns back to its regular form.

Third level wizards get Cantrip Formulas, letting you swap out one cantrip you know with a cantrip you don't know at the end of a long rest. You also get second level spells, like Alter Self to turn into Medea (among other benefits), and Gust of Wind to help out with sailing.

Use your first Ability Score Improvement to get a Keen Mind- always knowing which way you're facing and the angle the sun should be at are both really useful on the open sea. It also rounds up your Intelligence for stronger spells, and you can make your DM's life hell by remembering things up to a month after they happened.

Fifth level wizards get third level spells. Feign Death will help fake Mata Hari’s hanging later on, and Bestow Curse is super useful, since it can give a creature disadvantage on one kind of save. Like, say, wisdom saves. I wonder if there's a spell you like that requires a wisdom save coming up?

Sixth level transmutation wizards can create a Transmuter's Stone, a tiny object that gives its holder one of several benefits. When you make the stone, and if you're holding it while casting a transmutation spell, you can choose its beneft from the following: Darkvision, increased speed, proficiency in constitution saves, or resistance to one of acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder. You can only make one at a time after 8 hours of work, so don't try to stack them.

Seventh level wizards get fourth level spells, and you could get polymorph now if you really want, but you can also get that spell later for free, so if you're patient, you can get another spell now. If you do go for polymorph, it forces a wisdom save on a creature, and if they fail the save or they're willing, you can turn one creature into a beast with a CR equal to or less than the target's CR or level. All of the creature's stats are replaced by the new creature's, outside of alignment and personality. If it drops to 0 HP in this form, and hour passes, or you drop concentration, they turn back to normal. You can also cast other fourth level spells, like Control Water for sailing, Fabricate to turn... barley, just looked it up, into kykeon. Or any raw materials into a finished product that is Large or smaller.

At eighth level, you get another ASI that'll let you max out your Intelligence for super strong spells. That, plus your curses, will make your polymorph super hard to resist. When you get it.

Ninth level wizards get fifth level spells, like Control Winds and Skill Empowerment, as well as Scrying.

A tenth level transmuter is a Shapechanger, giving you the polymorph spell for free. You can also cast it on yourself once per short rest for free, but only if you turn into something CR 1 or lower. Sadly Medea isn't a beast or CR 1, but it doesn't hurt to practice. Also, yeah! You can now turn pretty much anyone into a Pig (CR 0, so there’s no excuse) or if you want to weaponize it, a Giant Boar (CR 2). Just promise to turn them back if they do your bidding. Still only lasts an hour, but they don’t have to know that.

Eleventh level wizards get sixth level spells. There really isn’t anything specifically Circe-like I want at this level, so just grab whatever your heart wants. There will be time for specifics later.

At twelfth level you get another ASI, and since your intelligence is maxed out we can diversify. Grab the War Caster feat for advantage on concentration saves (very good for pigmaking), the ability to cast spells with your hands full (not applicable), and best of all, you can cast spells as opportunity attacks if that spell as an action casting time and targets a creature. Oh hey, guess what spell fits that description?

Thirteenth level casters get seventh level spells! Again, not necessarily anything you need from here, but Plane Shift is always cool. Maybe you can stumble onto the pig dimension or something.

Your last goody from the transmutation specialty is to become a Master Transmuter, burning your transmuter stone in one go for a burst of magical power. Afterwards, you can’t make a new one until you take a long rest. You can use this for a Major Transformation, permanently changing a medium or smaller nonmagical object into another of similar size & mass (you also can’t cheese value out of this) over the course of 10 minutes. Alternatively, you make a Panacea, removing all curses, diseases, and poisons from a single creature, while also healing it back to full health. That’s some good eating. Going even further, you can Restore Life to cast Raise Dead without a spell slot. Death is a pretty hard line in the Nasuverse, but if anyone could do it it’d probably be Circe. Finally, you can Restore Youth to reduce a creature’s age by 3d10 years without extending their lifespan. You’ve clearly used that on yourself a couple times, but I can’t blame you.

Fifteenth level wizards get eighth level spells, and for once there is something I want to get. You might not use Scylla in-game, but hey, giant sea monsters are cool, so use either Summon Greater Demon, Dominate Monster, or Illusory Dragon to get one, depending on your preferred method.

You get yet another ASI, so bump up your Constitution for better concentration and more health- remember, health gets added retroactively, so that’s 16 extra this level, not one.

At seventeenth level you finally get ninth level spells, giving you access to Mass Polymorph for a proper pig banquet. This one is limited to only half the targets’ levels, but a pig is still CR 0, so it shouldn’t be a big issue. However, if you’re feeling really cruel, you can use True Polymorph for a more... permanent solution. If you keep concentration up for a full hour, the change lasts until it is dispelled. You can also turn objects into creatures, or creatures into objects, but none of those are particularly in character.

Eighteenth level wizards get Spell Mastery, giving you a 1st & 2nd level spell that you can cast for absolutely free, no restrictions. You can always change it later, but I highly suggest Magic Missile so you always have some damage on standby, and Alter Self for the versatility of it.

Your penultimate level grants you your ultimate ASI, so bump up your Charisma for an easier time tricking sailors. It doesn’t do much for the build, but at this point it doesn’t need to.

Your final level of the build gives you two Signature Spells, 3rd level spells that you can cast once per short rest without spending a spell slot. Sadly polymorph is a fourth level spell so it isn’t in the running, but Bestow Curse and Tidal Wave are good runners up. I never said you had to be nice to sailors, just help them out occasionally.

Pros and Cons

Pros

Polymorph is one of the easiest ways to utterly shut down an enemy if it hits, at the very least buying you an hour to run away and regroup. It’s also very funny.

The Transmuter’s Stone is a very powerful support tool, protecting you and giving you healing options wizards don’t normally get. You also come loaded with tools like Skill Empowerment, which is just flexible enough to be useful even when you’re not on a ship.

You get concentration free flight, which is incredibly useful for a spellcaster. Being able to completely avoid an enemy’s front line and turn their back line into pigs is very useful.

Cons

The reason your flight being concentration free is such a big deal is because a lot of your spells use concentration. Honestly, your saves aren’t that bad (esp. with war caster) but it still limits your options, especially when your signature move requires concentration.

While your stone is powerful, it has a huge recharge time to contend with, requiring a long rest followed by an extra 8 hours of work, and the entire time between now and then you might as well not have a subclass. It’s a pretty harsh penalty for actually using your class feature.

It takes a while for this build to go from level one to casting polymorph, so if you want a build you can jump right into and feel like the character, this build definitely isn’t what you’re looking for.

#caster of okeanos #DND 5e #D&D #FGO #fate grand order #wizard

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summahsunlight · 3 years

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Reader Request, #7 and #20 w/Poe

Title: Why

Word Count: 1175

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

This was a request from @starless-eyes-remain: can i request 7(lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise) and 20(washing their back/hair in the shower) for him, like maybe he came back from a mission kinda injured but mainly sad so reader patches him up and comforts him? Prompts come from the “50 Wordless Ways to say I Love You,” prompt list. Enjoy!🥰

It had been an incredibly long shift. Once you reached your quarters all you wanted was a nice warm shower, your comfiest pajamas, and to crawl into bed to sleep for hours. Normally, you hated being alone, but tonight you were actually relieved that your boyfriend was away on an extended mission. Which was why you were not expecting to find Poe sitting on your cot, head in his hands.

“Poe?” you questioned. “Why are you back so soon?”

“It was an ambush,” Poe whispered. “We barely escaped.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“For the most part.”

His voice was solemn--and this made you worry. Sitting with him on the cot you reached for his hand, noticing the fresh cuts and bruises. Gently, you reached out with your free hand and brushed his hair back. This action caused him to look at you--revealing a freshly formed bruise on his left cheek. Your first instinct was to touch it, but you held back. “Do you want me to clean the cuts on your hands?”

Sighing, heavily, Poe nodded. It was unnerving how silent he was--you were used to him never shutting up, always on the move--this quiet, stoic man sitting with you was making you anxious.

Channeling that anxiety into action, you rose off the cot and told him you were going to retrieve your first aid kit. There was some kind of mumbled response from him as you gathered your things, but it was so muted that you couldn’t make out what he was saying. Returning with your med kit, Poe sat still the entire time you cleaned and bandaged the cuts on his hands.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you pointed out.

“Not much to say,” he murmured.

“Really? You? Speechless?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, love.”

Putting the final touches on his bandages, you didn’t push him to talk about the mission; it was obvious that whatever happened was still too fresh on his mind and bothering him. “What do you want to do then?”

Poe shook his head, his eyes drifting away from you and looking around the tiny quarters. “I don’t know,” he choked. “I’m just...I’m tired.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “I was going to take a shower and then go to bed--why don’t you join me?”

He scoffed. “No, you don’t get it--I’m not physically tired. I’m tired of all this! I’m tired of life and death situations every damn day; I’m tired of fighting, sweetheart. I just want all this to be over.”

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes; you wished you take all his pain away, but you couldn’t. Others had warned you that Poe gave too much of himself to the Resistance--that at some point he was going to reach a breaking point. “I know,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Poe said, noticing your tears.

“Sorry for what?” you questioned, wiping the tears away.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Poe...it’s fine...”

He took your face between his hands and gently kissed you. Taking a deep breath, he rested his forehead against yours. “What were you saying about taking a shower together earlier?”

Chuckling, you nodded. “I was going to take a shower, put on my most comfy pajamas and then go to bed.”

Poe kissed the side of your mouth. “Sounds lovely.”

You smiled. “It might help you feel better.”

“I know it will help me feel better. Just being with you helps.”

“What are we waiting for then?”

Gingerly, Poe got to his feet, wincing in pain as he helped you to your feet. It wasn’t until you helped him out of his flight suit and then into the shower that you noticed all the bruises covering his body.

Carefully you washed his back, trying your best not to hurt him any more than he already was. He was quiet once again while you cleaned him up, he remained silent while you wrapped your arms around his waist once you were done and he only let out a soft breath when you pressed your lips to each bruise on his back.

You stayed in that position, with the water running over the two of you, as you continued to kiss the bruises--hoping that it would ease some of the pain. But once the water started to run cold, you both knew it was time to step out of the shower. You helped each other dry off and dress in sleep clothes, and even though you knew it was painful for Poe--he insisted on carrying you to bed because you looked simply exhausted.

“But you’re injured--you entire body is covered in bruises!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, sweetheart.”

“Poe. I should be taking care of you!”

“You have, love, you have. Now, it’s my turn to take care of you.”

As he settled you down between the sheets on your cot, you realized that you were happy that the evening had turned out differently than you planned. Poe crawled into the little cot with you, his arms wrapping around you and drawing you closer to him. “I’m glad you feel better,” you said, smiling softly.

He pressed soft kisses along your jawline. “Because I was reminded of why I’m continuing to fight--it’s you, and you’re worth continuing this fight. I love you, I want to give you the entire galaxy, sweetheart; I want it to be a safe place for you.”

You closed your eyes and rested your head against his chest, careful not to press too hard because you didn’t want to hurt him. “It will happen; you’re the most stubborn man in the entire galaxy. I know you say you’re tired--but that’s only because you don’t quit, you don’t give up making it better.”

Poe sighed, softly. You were his whole reason for not giving up--even today, when he wanted too, you pulled him back from the brink. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Hmmm... that might be true... but who does?”

“Good point; I’d argue no one. Guess I’m lucky you chose me.”

“Falling in love with you wasn’t a choice--it just happened.”

His fingers gently ran through your damp hair, lulling you to sleep. Poe began to feel tired himself, his eyes growing heavy. On the way back from the failed mission all he could think about was how he couldn’t do this anymore, how he couldn’t watch anyone else die--but the moment he saw you--the moment he thought of all the things he wanted to give you--he knew he couldn’t give up.

Like so many nights before, on countless bases and cruisers, you fell asleep in his arms, quite possibly never realizing how much of a lifeline you were for him. But little did Poe know, he was just as much of a lifeline for you. Together you were going to get through this war and come out on the other side in a better galaxy.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #reader request

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gallickingun · 4 years

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the space between || b.k.

SUMMARY: It’s been a long time since Bokuto has had a Saturday morning off, and you plan to use it to your full advantage.

PAIRING: Bokuto Koutarou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: mentions of nudity, emotional cuddles, etc. WORD COUNT: 4.2k+

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a cute, quick little fic about cuddling in the nude with Bokuto and here we are, four thousand words later. I hope you guys like it, my first Bo piece! 💕

The plush of the mattress jostles and you find yourself stirring from the realm of slumber, eyes still glued together with the sleep that fogs your mind. You are living in a haze, a mixture of your sleep deprivation and the boneless way your body lies within the sheets, joints and muscles aching from the tortuous pleasure you’ve been put through by the man you love most.

You want to stretch and open your eyes, to crack open your lids to find him sleeping next to you, a divot in the duvet where his hefty body has taken residence. But it is too difficult and too tiring to even think of putting forth effort at this point, your appendages practically creaking with the gentle movements you attempt to make. And so you settle for nosing yourself further into the down of your pillow instead, drinking in the warmth and the smell of his shampoo off the sheets.

“Sleepy head,” his voice is just a touch too loud for you to find enticing this early in the morning, despite how ravenous you were to hear it only a few hours prior, “s’time to get up, c’mon.”

You whine, screwing your eyes shut even further to the point where your vision throws speckles of fire against the backs of your lids. Every one of your muscles aches and you cannot force yourself to do anything other than lie there and take whatever verbal or physical assaults he chooses to instill upon you.

It starts with his palm, warm and expansive, running up your thighs. You clench the muscles as you feel his weight settle between your knees, his body still above the covers, your bare skin still hidden to him from the neck down. He chuckles and the baritone of it makes your spine shudder, your toes curling in anticipation, the build up before the burst.

With Bokuto, there is always a burst.

A gentle kiss is pressed to your navel, the bow of his lips finding the dip in your skin despite the barrier of a high thread count between the two of you. In response, you turn your head so your cheek is pressed into the pillow, embarrassment flooding your body in the form of a heated flush, singeing his fingertips as he roams your skin above the sheets. You’re too attuned to his ministrations, and everything that he does sends your body into a flurry of desire, as if your atoms were built to suffer until he brings a soothing balm of his own to you in the form of his fingerprints.

“Not ready yet, Bo,” you reach for him with one wavering hand, futile save for the fact that he longs for your skin nearly as much, if not more, than you long for his. Your thumb finds his bicep and it allows you enough of a guide to flatten your palm against the muscle, mapping out he curve along his deltoid, where you hook your middle finger to keep yourself steady, anchoring yourself to him like he was some sort of lifeboat, “Come back to bed.”

Your voice is slurred enough to make even the strongest of men weak, Bokuto thinks. The lilt each syllable carries, the way your eyes roll behind translucent lids, it’s all too much for his flimsy form. He can spike at what feels like one hundred miles per hour, but when he’s this close to you, his muscles atrophy and his heart stops beating.

You are a force to be reckoned with, and his heart always begs for just another whirlwind of you.

Bokuto is laughing again, this time nuzzling the apex of his face along your abdomen, counting out your ribs with the tip of his nose. It’s almost as if he’s making sure that you’re still all here, like he might have lost bits and pieces of you in the night. His breath is warm against your skin, adding to the heat the your body is accumulating from the promise of what is to come if you prove yourself tantalizing enough.

His hands pull the covers down to pool around your hips, gooseflesh pin-pricking your skin at the sudden change in temperature. Bokuto loves watching your body react, each inch of your seized up and stone cold, and he full-well intends to satiate your need for warmth. He kisses the bone of your right hip, nose trailing along the swell of your belly until he kisses the hollow of your navel, a gentle sound resonating in the soft space between your soul and his, “I’m right here, baby doll.”

You pout, forcing yourself to crack one eyelid open so you can half-glower down at him, even though the look has no malice or intent behind it. Bokuto pushes himself upward to snag your lower lip between the bite of his teeth, playfully nipping at the fullness of your skin. The closeness allows you the opportunity to slip your boneless arms around his neck, arching your back upward until your chests are flush with one another. You leech from his heat, begging to be enraptured by his body and stolen by his affections.

Bokuto’s body complies, his blood coursing scorching tendrils through his veins, making his skin sear against yours, a stark contrast to the coolness of your own. He appreciates you for a moment, eyes drinking you in, the way that your body pebbles beneath him, cool and compliant, awaiting his touch. He knows that he has you underneath his thumb, that he could have his way with you in any version of this that he wanted. He has your trust entirely, which is why when he leans down to kiss you square on the mouth, your frame molds to his own, and he is not sure where he ends and you begin.

The melding of your mouths has yet to cease his heartbeat from quickening, time after time. He does not grow weary of your tongue and gums beneath his own muscle, licking at the seam of your lips so he can devour you whole. You welcome him, of course, prying your teeth open so you can feel his heat extend to your own skin even further than before.

Your fingertips wind into his hair, tugging at the dark roots before you allow one palm to stray, trailing down over his shoulder. Bokuto is clad in a tank top, indicative of his morning workout, but it is thin enough that you can feel the corded muscle underneath the fabric, and you take full advantage of the diaphanous clothing to explore the range of his back and shoulders. The tactile difference between his shirt and his tresses forces you to focus on something, allowing you to keep your mind on this plane of existence rather than ascending to another. You moan when you feel the curve of his tongue prodding against your lips again, your knees trying to break free from the pinned position he has you in so you can bare yourself entirely to him.

Bokuto reaches upward to brush his knuckles along your jawline, abandoning your ribs for something closer to your heart. He is smirking against your mouth as he pulls away before he can become too enraptured in your taste and familiarity, “I’ve already had my morning jog and you’re still in bed, babe. I should punish you for being so lazy.”

Your backside throbs at the mention of punishment, still raw and angry from the memory of the long night that has hardly even passed, given the position of the sun outside the window. You feel the warmth of the rays trickling through the shades, golden light creating a tanned hue on Bokuto’s bare skin. You trace the thin beams that have formed shadows against his neck and shoulders, your fingertip finding his jugular and pressing down firmly to feel his pulse shudder under your touch.

The both of you flush with a lustful heat, your ears and nose changing color in tandem with one another. Bokuto can feel you trembling, knows that your mind has wandered to what his hands that are currently gentle and soft can truly do. He nudges his cheek against yours to feel the warmth of your embarrassment collecting there, the shade of your skin different now.

“You have the weekend off, no practice,” your hands flex against the back of his head and his shoulder, “and you seriously don’t want to just stay in bed? You’re always talking about how you don’t get enough sleep!”

Bokuto runs his hands over your torso, circling your waist with his expansive palms, sending a trail of blazing heat in his wake as he maps out the contours of your abdomen. He is laughing again, shaking his head so those silver tendrils fall in his face, obscuring you from his vision, “I guess you are pretty tired, huh? I wore you out last night.”

“Bo!” You reach up to smack his arm, gripping onto his bicep afterward. Your entire body sings with the remembrance of the way he folded you practically in half, his fingerprints ghosting against your skin now in the form of bruises, a tangible memory of his impressive brute strength.

He scrunches his nose as he grapples your forearm, circling his fingers around your wrist so he can pull your hand towards his face, kissing the innermost part of your arm as if he were planting a garden with the ministrations. His lips find your pulse point and he runs his nose along the grain of your arm, running the tip of it up to your wrist before he cracks his eyelids open to fixate onto you with that warm, golden gaze.

“What, did’ya already forget? Do you need a reminder?” Bokuto slips one palm underneath your thigh to grip the globe of your backside, squeezing the flesh harshly. It stings on impact, your hips canting forward to meet his with uncontrollable fervor. You have to bite down on your tongue to keep a moan from slipping between your teeth, the salacious feel of his hand against your ass doing little to quell the fire bubbling up within your belly.

“Koutarou, you little shit,” you’re growling out the syllables under your breath but he knows you have no follow-through, there will be no promise of anger or punishment. Another garbled set of words tries to flee from your tongue but you cannot focus on them because your mouth is otherwise occupied.

Bokuto hitches your leg upward, the sheet falling down from your knee so your thigh is now bared to him. He shivers at the sudden change in texture, from silken fabric to supple skin. It’s difficult for him to concentrate on your mouth when your leg is brushing against his hip in such a way that drives his mind mad. And yet, somehow he finds a way, silver lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks as he closes his eyes, narrowing his focus to the taste of your tongue and the curve of your gums. He is enraptured by you, nothing but a heap of broken bones begging to be pieced back together at the mercy of your hands.

And you oblige him, just as you always do. Your fingerprints are the key to his soul, pressing firmly against his skin and opening him like no other.

You search him, pulling out those groans of ecstasy and aborted thrusts as his hips stutter against your waistline. Bokuto’s mouth draws downward, creating a line of open-mouthed kisses that leave behind a damp trail, as if it were gasoline, clear and slick along your skin. You beg him for the match as you moan his name, your skin matching his in heat now that he has engulfed you like a flame, threatening to light your whole body to a raging fire if you let him linger long enough.

“Maybe you’re right,” he gasps against your jugular, practically wanton in nature as he hovers over your body.

Leaning back, Bokuto reaches for your leg, tugging your calf upward so your ankle rests against his shoulder. He angles his head so he can kiss the bone there, a thin layer of skin keeping your barest parts from him. He chuckles and the warmth of his laughter spreads through your limbs like a raging bonfire, searing just beneath the surface.

He turns so he can look you in the eyes, “Maybe I will come back to bed.”

The smile that graces your lips makes it all worth it.

Bokuto allows you to strip his torso of the offensive article of clothing, the fabric added to the pool of your clothes on the floor beside the bed. Your hands waste no time in mapping out his torso, pectorals and oblique muscles receiving extra dotes of attention. He nips at your collarbones, admonishing you from allowing him to continue to strip down so the both of you are evenly matched, full patches of skin on display so neither of you can hide from one another.

Even bare, his frame no longer hindered by bulky clothes, Bokuto still proves to be a massive man. Bulging muscles and thick bones that pave the way for his thick extremities and loitering weight. When his knees dip into the mattress, you find yourself rolling towards them, the slope of the bed changed with his added weight. You giggle as you try to hold yourself upright, eyes squinting shut when he reaches across the space between your bodies to grip your rib cage. His hold on you is gentle but firm, keeping you in place without bruising you.

The two of you settle into one another as if you’ve been doing this your whole lives, falling into a position that leaves the both of you comfortable and close. Your head is tucked beneath his neck, your chin on his collarbone as you lie still, his breath warm as it dithers into the crown of your hair, your mouth open as you breath against his throat. The tanned flesh sprouts goosebumps and you can’t help the laughter that piques your voice, your nose nuzzling his jugular as his apple bobs when he tries to breathe.

“C’mere,” he murmurs against your forehead, kissing you shortly after the word is spoken. Bokuto’s palm runs down your side, gentle as he hooks his three middle-most fingers around the curve of your thigh, “you feel so good, baby, so warm and soft.”

You roll your eyes and lean back to look up at him, “Just what every woman wants to hear, Bo, that I’m soft.”

“What the hell is wrong with that?!” Bokuto gently bumps his forehead into yours, successfully hitching your leg up over his thigh so your waists are now flush with one another. You hook your ankle around the backside of his thigh reluctantly, narrowing your line of sight until your irises are but slits hidden behind half-hooded lids.

He scoffs, “I swear, you find something wrong with everything I say, woman.”

There is no true frustration behind his words, but you tilt your head upward to kiss him anyways. Your affections usually bring about some form of amnesia, as Bokuto is too enticed by the taste of your tongue to remember you admonishing him only moments prior. His fingers press harder against the muscle of your leg, trailing down so he can trace the dip of your calf and ankle, like he might be mapping out your anatomy so he could memorize it for later.

“I’ve missed you,” you manage when you pull away from him, ducking your head so your forehead bumps his chin. Your whole face is coated in an embarrassed heat, eyes beginning to water at the memory of too many nights spent alone in this bed while he travels the world to play out his dreams on the court.

Bokuto can feel the shift in your demeanor, and he pulls you closer to him on instincts alone. Your chest presses into him and you swear your heartbeats are in time with one another, the slow rhythm like a song that plays for only each other to hear. His hands try to find any part of you that he can touch, your skin calling to him in the quiet of your bedroom, begging to be praised and flourished with affections. He pulls the sheet up to your waists, allowing you some form of privacy despite it only being the two of you who live in between these walls.

“I think about you every day,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. Your chest tightens at the sound of his downcast tone, and you know that those usually bright, amber eyes have lost their golden hue, turning a sad, sallow shade in favor of the standard color. Bokuto nudges his nose over your cheek, sporadic kisses pressed against your skin as he speaks, “I always go back to the hotel room, thinking you’re going to be there by some stupid accident. I look forward to your good morning texts and every time I get to call you, it’s like it’s just you and me, alone in the world. Does that make sense?”

You have tears streaming down your cheeks, but he was too wrapped up in his own range of emotions to notice. Once he recognizes the dampness plaguing his collarbones has nothing to do with his own natural sweat production, Bokuto is tilting your head up with a knuckle underneath your jaw, his thumb gently pinching your chin, “Hey, sweetheart, wh-did I say something wrong? I swear, I’m so fucking stupid with words, I just-”

His rambling musings are cut short by your lips surging forward, swallowing him whole with a simple gasping moan. You dig your nails into his body, sinking into whatever patch of skin is closest. You need this tactile comfort, to remind yourself to come down from this high that he has created by stringing together a few simple syllables.

“I love you,” your voice is haggard and slow, but it does not matter, not in this moment, “I love you, Bo.”

The palms of his hands sear into your shoulders as he runs the heels of them along the curve of your body. He rubs up and down, creating a friction that warns you that you might catch fire if he does not show you distance. You welcome the heat, welcome the burn, because the ache that it leaves behind when he is gone is so much more intense than if he were to keep you at bay. You look up at him, eyes wide and begging for some form of solace in his gaze, “And I’m proud of you, for doing this. Pursuing your dreams.”

“Nah, baby doll,” Bokuto pushes your hair from your face, fingertips lingering on your cheek, held there by some existential force that he cannot fathom, “you’re my dream, yeah? S’all you.”

He angles your head upward again, tilting his wrist as he cups your face, kissing you gently for what feels like hours on end. Your mind slips into a sort of haze, gentle colors passing behind your lids as he prods and tugs at your lips. You feel euphoric, champagne bubbles drifting upwards from your stomach, effervescent and unrelenting. He is a high you would dare to chase for the rest of your life, even if he sits just out of reach. You don’t mind getting drunk off of his love if it leaves you with this overwhelming sense of adoration that warms you from the inside out, leaving your fingertips buzzing with the promise of what is to come next always being better than what has come before.

“Volleyball isn’t forever,” he whispers like he does not want it to come true, but knows it must despite his reluctance, “but you? I’ve got you for life.”

You cannot help the tears that swim down your cheeks, creating glittering rivulets of saltine droplets, sticking into your hair and onto the pillowcase. Bokuto chuckles as he swipes at the sticky skin, brushing away any evidence of your emotions. You want to refute him, to tell him that he can make volleyball something he could do forever if he just worked hard enough. But you know that isn’t true – he is but a mortal, despite your thoughts otherwise, and mortals break, they wither into nothingness. He can not spike like a twenty-something year-old athlete forever, and even if he chooses to coach, it may never bring about the fulfillment that the sound of squeaking his sneakers on a court can.

Bokuto is gentle as he kisses you, a simmering heat spreading from your lips to your toes the longer he stays connected to you at the mouth. His hands fawn all over you, searching each dip and cord of muscle and bone and skin as he does so, mapping out your frame like he has not done this a dozen times and will not continue to do it for the rest of his days.

The hoarse phrase of, “I love you,” is whimpered into the spaces between your teeth, where your soul and his collide. Your heart rolls from within the cage of your ribs, knowing full-well that if it were possible, if you were to look hard enough there would be a bruised outline against your skin from where the organ were beating so quickly that it might look as if it were trying to escape.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bokuto’s hand against your cheek drifts downward, ghosting over your throat before resting against the left side of your chest. His thumb brushes along the swell of your breast, but you know the action is far from sensual in nature, the heel of his palm digging in just enough so he can feel the thumping of your heart underneath your skin and bones. He breathes in slowly as the organ thuds under his touch, taking you in moment by moment, unwilling to miss even the slightest movement or sound.

Your hands find his cheeks, holding his jaw gently in your hands as your lips volley back and forth, soft, audible smacking echoing from your mouths as you kiss. The way his thigh slides between your knees has you clenching around him, your own body trying to accommodate the sizable appendage as he slots himself closer to you.

Bokuto has always been desperate for your affections, from the beginning of your relationship to now, nothing has changed. He wants to be as close to you as possible, practically suffocating you with his proximity and even though you feel like you’re drowning within his hold, you would never come up for air again if it meant being with him. There is little space between you now, bodies melded together underneath the thin sheet, warmed by the golden rays of sunlight beaming through the window. You wonder how ethereal this must look – sunshine on your skin, golden hour in your hair. You two must be the picture of intimacy, wound together and unable to be separated, two bodies become one in the moment of heightened grace and poise.

“Bo,” you manage to breathe his name as he relinquishes your mouth in favor of your throat. Your hands latch onto his shoulders when he leans in closer, rolling his body upwards against you. The hard wall of muscle that ripples when he moves is enough to bring any woman to her knees, let alone one so weak for him such as you.

He lands a kiss to your collarbone before angling his head so he can look you in the eyes, “Yeah, babe?”

You don’t want the tears to fall, but you can’t help it with the way your eyes are watering and when you blink, a fresh set of salted pearly drops are dripping down onto his skin , “Will you hold me?”

Bokuto is wrapping you up into the tightest embrace you think you could handle before you can wheeze out your final syllable. You are warm all over, completely wracked in heat as he holds you closely, your head against his chest so you can count out his heartbeats until your own rhythm has settled. You curl your arms around his shoulders until your palms are flat against his contoured muscles, finding solace in the burning planes of skin there, his body heated from a mixture of lust and adoration that fuels his very being when he is closest to you.

“Of course, baby,” Bokuto is ever the sturdy one, keeping you sane despite your attempts to turn otherwise. He kisses the crown of your head as if he were planting a flower bed, gentle petal-like pecks along each lock of your hair. A light, airy string of laughter is huffed along your forehead, an open-mouthed kiss placed soon after, “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

You believe him, because Bokuto has always been there to piece you back together when you want to fall apart, crumbling to the ground like shattered and tattered pieces of the person that you are. His strength is unparalleled, and you do not wish to search for anyone who might come close to him because not only would it be futile, but it would be a waste of your time.

After all, how could you ever find someone who so perfectly fits into the spaces between you like he does?

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto imagine #bokuto fanfic #bokuto x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #morgan writes hq #my writing #koutarou x reader #haikyuucreations

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

Text

Getting to First Base

A/n: just a little something. i need more seungmin on my masterlist anyway and i would do anything for my babies so! (not thoroughly edited)

Requested by: @pixielix

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999 @multi-net

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: cheeky seungmin that's about it i think

Summary: Kim Seungmin is the star of Cheongdam High. His grades are top-notch and he is the star pitcher of the school’s baseball team. Every girl wants date him and every guy wants to be friends with him. But, little does Y/n know he only has eyes for her. All it takes is one night and one extra private practice for things to change for both of them.

Genre: romance, fluff, non-idol!au, baseball player!seungmin, softball player!reader, highschool!au, popular kid!seungmin

◈

An ominous buzz filled the lunchroom. Not the kind attached to any flying pest. This was the sound of gossip seeping from every table in the cafeteria. Despite the conformity inspired by our school uniforms, clear, distinct borders were made in the large room.

Near the window, were the candidates for valedictorian and their study groups. Their trays always lay untouched and books took their focus. In the right corner were the Netizens and resident fan-girls and boys alike. They were mostly harmless unless it was comeback season. Across the way in the left corner was the ‘cool’ kids. Cool meaning the guys smoked behind the schools and the girls cut their skirts to short and glared at anyone who looked their way. Towards the back were your general outcasts and weirdos. They usually kept to themselves, but if you were caught sitting with them it was the social equivalent of suicide.

The center. The center was where everyone wanted to be. The focal point of the cafeteria was the two circular tables that housed the school’s pride and joy. The baseball and softball teams. And at the heart of it all, seemingly lit by a ray of sunshine, was Kim Seungmin. Star pitcher of Cheongdam’s baseball team.

Seungmin sat atop the lunch table, his shaggy brown hair falling across his forehead. His tie was loose and hanging lower than it should be and the silver bracelet he always wore dangled over his tan wrist as he waved over another member of his team.

It was no secret I liked Seungmin. Almost every girl in our school had a crush on Seungmin. Girls flocked to give him gifts before games and they waited for him before and after practice. I watched from the girls’ field as they lined up at the fence and cheered for him as he pitched inning after inning.

My less than white sneakers squeaked over the white tiles as I carried my lunch tray to the softball table. “Y/n!” My friend Jia waved me over, a bright smile illuminating her face. At the sound of my name, Seungmin’s head popped up like a meerkat and searched the cafeteria. His eyes met mine and I gave him a smile before sliding into my seat.

The cold metal of the cheap tables chilled the bare skin on my legs. “Did you hear about Miyoung?” Jia said twirling the aluminum chopsticks in her hand before stabbing them into a sausage. I nervously laughed at her exhibition of violence towards the innocent piece of meat.

“No. What about her?”

“Apparently she’s failing a class. Her mom is pulling her from the team.”

My jaw dropped, halfway full of food. Without looking she pushed it up, prompting me to finish chewing. “But we have Sectionals-” Jia nodded stabbed yet another sausage. “She’s our star pitcher-” I could hear the meat squealing in pain at her unhindered violence. I noticed some of the boys at the next table staring at her with terrified eyes. When she turned they looked away, hands hiding her next possible sausage target.

“I’m going to take these away from you.” My hands reached for her saucer but an animal like growl escaped her throat so I left her be.

Jia sighed looking at our team around the table. “I just really wanted to win Sectionals this year.” We ate the rest of our meal in silence, waiting for the bell to ring. The hall was flooded with students. The sea of blue jackets made it hard to weave my way into Room B23.

Class droned on for the next hour. Just as my eyes started to droop, I was hit in the back of the head by a paper projectile. The ball of notebook paper landed on the floor at my feet. My eyes fell on a familiar shaggy head of brown hair. With happy puppy eyes, he pointed towards the paper, eyeing the teacher warily.

Why Seungmin felt the need to throw the paper at me I had no clue. He sat right beside me. The teacher seemed preoccupied with scolding a student about using their phone so I reached down and picked up the note. I smiled seeing Seungmin’s handwriting.

Do you have practice today?

He was asking if I had practice? Did he suddenly drop every brain cell in that big head of his? It was a known fact that the baseball and softball schedule was practically identical. Every day he had practice and every day I had mine. That’s why the school invested in a second field for the softball team.

Of course. Same as you. Why?

My hand moved across the paper, making every letter neat and in beautiful handwriting. Quitely folding the note, I slipped it between two fingers and held it down by my side, staring at the board. I desperately tried not to withdraw feeling Seungmin’s fingers brushed mine as he took the parchment.

Quietly he unfolded the paper and I listened to his pen scrawl across it more than I did read the lessons from my textbook. My hand stayed ready to receive his message but it was once again tossed onto my desk. Rolling my eyes I opened his message.

I like knowing things.

Not bothering to write anything back I crumpled the sheet and tossed it at his head. Seungmin laughed, our teacher’s head shooting up and sending us a stern glare.

That was such a Seungmin answer. He always loved being the smartest person in the room. Putting the weird interaction in the back of my mind, I focused back on my work and waited for the school day to be over.

◈

I stood in line with the rest of the now twelve girls of Cheongdam’s softball team. The sound of the boys’ practice was carrying over the chainlink fence onto our field. Our coach walked the line, clipboard in hand.

“I’m sure you all are aware Miyoung has dropped from the team.” Most of the girls nodded, several gasped and turned to the others looking for confirmation. “With Sectionals coming up we need an immediate replacement for our pitcher.” His eyes scanned down the line, holding a stare with every single girl. “L/n. Congratulations, you are our new pitcher.”

“But- I’m just a shortstop?”

“Not anymore.” He tossed me a mitt and called for everyone to take their positions. A heavy weight landed on my shoulders as I stood atop the pitcher’s mound. I felt all eyes on me as the first girl stepped up to the plate.

The ball was familiar in my hands. I stared at the girl waiting to bat. With as much aim and accuracy as I could muster I threw the ball. It sailed over the plate before connecting with the wooden bat with a loud crack.

The rest of our practice seemed to last an eternity. The coach yelled at me more than anyone else on the team. By now everyone had left. The floodlights had been shut off and I stood in the dark on the pitcher's mound. The ball felt heavy in my hand.

Staring down the makeshift target I created at home plate, I wiped the sweat off my brow. The ball flew from my hand missing the target by just an inch. Sighing, I collapsed onto the ground head in my hands. Cold sweat lay on the back of my neck, becoming freezing as the night breeze blew over it.

“Shouldn’t you have left already?”

Looking up I saw Seungmin walking towards me with a long stride. A duffle bag hung loosely over his right shoulder and he smiled at me from the gate entrance. His hair was messy and I could see the sleeve of his uniform hanging out of the bag.

“I heard you’re the new pitcher. How is that going?”

“As you can tell, not so great.” Setting down his bag Seungmin grabbed onto a basket full of softballs and dragged it over to the mound. He placed on in my hand before standing back and watching expectantly. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged, scuffing his shoe in the tan dirt. “Helping you. Obviously.” Nudging my shoulder he pointed to the target. “Let me see what you’ve got.” Pitching in front of Cheongdam High’s star player. This was certainly not how I imagined this night to go.

Taking a deep breath, I aimed my stare towards the target. Seungmin watched me with an analytic gaze as the ball left my hand. The round projectile grazed the second most outer ring of the target. He shrugged as I turned back to him.

“It’s not bad. I’ve seen worse.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” Seungmin shrugged once more and watched me pick up another softball. “Here. Why don’t you show me how it’s done then. A smirk played at his lips as I tossed him the ball.

He listed his head, playing with the spherical object. “You do realize, pitching a baseball and pitching a softball are technically different.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes as I stepped back from the top of the mound and motioned for him to step up. With perfect form, he let loose the ball, long fingers seeming to extend as it flew towards the target. A large thunk could be heard and all that was left was a dent smack dab in the center of the target.

“Want me to teach you?” Slowly I nodded and walked over to him. His fingers brushed mine as he handed me another ball from the basket. “Try inhaling when you prep and exhaling as you let loose the ball.”

Following his instructions, I took a deep breath and let go as the ball flew past my fingertips. Seungmin burst out laughing when the softball bounced off of the target’s corner. “You’re supposed to be teaching, not laughing dumbass!”

“I can’t help it,” Seungmin gasped, doubling over in laughter. “That was too cute!” My body froze involuntarily and I prayed that he assumed the blush on my cheeks was from the cold. His eyes raked over my face clearly noticing the heat flooding over my skin. “Try again?” Seungmin proposed picking up another ball.

Knowing my only chance of a scream-free practice tomorrow was standing next to me I turned back towards the plate, the ball passing between my hand and the mitt. Hearing Seungmin’s sharp intake of breath had me turning to wait for criticism. To my surprise, I felt his hands on my waist and his chest brushed against my back. Again I froze, choosing to look anywhere but the boy behind me.

“Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, breath fanning over the back of my neck. With a gentle touch, his hands turned my hips parallel to his. “Try angling your hips this way. IT might help-” Seungmin stopped and stared seeing my eyes dragging over his lips. Ghosting over the corner of his mouth was a smirk that would make the Chesire cat proud. “Your staring.”

“Well...you were talking.”

“Please, you were practically undressing me with your eyes.”

“When did I-”

He laughed, keeping his hands on my waist. “I’m just kidding, Y/n.” Embarrassed, I stared down at my shoes. “Though...if you did want to kiss me, you should just do it. I’m very tired of waiting.”

“You’re tired of waiting? What about me?” I asked turning around, crossing my arms. The rough leather of the mitt was tucked under my arm in an awkward way, but I ignored it. “Why do you think I always buy an extra banana milk on Fridays? I know you’re going to ask for one at study group.”

Seungmin laughed as I lightly swatted his shoulder, dropping the softball on the field and letting it roll away from the pitcher's mound. “Why do you think I go to study group? My grades are fine.”

“Well...I-”

Before I could come up with an answer, Seungmin leaned down and pressed his lips against mine before pulling away hands behind his back. “You what?”

“I-.....uh...well-”

Again, Seungmin leaned down and pecked my lips. “Yes?”

“Kim Seungmin would you stop for one second!”

“So, you don’t want me to kiss you?”

“Yes. Wait- no. Wait.....what?”

His eyes crinkled and he pulled me towards his chest, kissing me deeply this time. It was a kiss that made me weak in the knees. Still not entirely processing that Seungmin was in fact kissing me, my hands hung by my side. “I’m doing all the work here. Are you going to kiss back or what?” Seungmin said with a laugh. Shaking myself out of the confused trance I grabbed his cheeks and pulled him back down to my lips.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I kissed Seungmin with every part of my being. He smiled, holding me as close as possible. Suddenly a blinding light flashed over us. “Hey! What are you kids still doing here?” The voice of one of the security guards yelled.

Seungmin and I shared a look before dropping the mitts and running towards the gate hand in hand. Grabbing our bags, Seungmin pushed me through the gate as we ran from the school guards. “Run!” I screamed dragging him through the looming iron gates that bordered the school grounds.

The two of us laughed as we ran down the dimly lit street. “So, can I tell people you are actually my girlfriend now? We can officially be the best team in the sports department.” Leaning up I kissed his cheek before pulling him around a corner towards my house.

“Yes. Why would I turn down a boyfriend when he comes with free pitching lessons?” I joked making him roll his eyes and ruffle my hair.

◈

Requests are Temporarily Closed!

Masterlist

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jonathankatwhatever · 2 years

Text

I talked about the tiling that expands fD so the dividing 1segment becomes a square, meaning gs parallels, where the other two sides of the gs are Hexagons. I don’t think I accurately conveyed that the central bT’s, meaning each bT that appears, now inverts in two ways. First, it inverts over each 1segment into a gs, and thus completes the process of End to 1segment to End, with an extra 1segment stuck in the middle. But it also inverts over the Hexagon, which mean the End that sits at the heart of an HG is spread apart by a Hexagon, which of course means a relationship extending in all directions but counting around the Hexagon, and thus inverting to the center of that Hexagon, so the count connects to the other part of the End. That is a simple, but hard to find (for me) result of the 0-1-0 work. It’s hard to find because this is the fundamental version: an End is divided into 2 Ends which pair over all that relates over the Hexagon, so the 1 of the Hexagon fills the space in the 1-0-1 of the End-to-End connection. Simple mechanics.

I have two things pushing at me. One is primes. The other is that holding on to something is a counter-current. In other words, stuff actually does come at you.

Primes have become complicated again, because I’m trying to see where they locate in the 1-0-Space model. This tiling helps because it says a gs exists inside any 1segment, because the 1segment has edges, and those edges thus can be pulled apart in gs parallels. That locates the bip center as if you took both iterations, meaning the Irreducible iterations of an fD, and then pulled each of those apart so they made a square with a bT attached at each 1segment edge. The difference is that one of the pairs is Hexagons, and of course that means the image is correct because you just draw in the triangles and this is true. So, this tiling is otherwise representable as all bT’s plus gs, with groupings of bT’s forming Hexes, so the difference is that some bT’s come together to fully invert the path around the Hex to the center.

The difficulty is that spinning around Hexagons isn’t the same as spinning around gs. And I think this gets to the nature of analytic, meaning there’s an End to the process chain. This is deep concept. I’m trying to see it, and what I’m seeing is very cool. I hope it’s correct.

I’m seeing the spread fD form in I//I over the same square. As I draw this out, I notice something cool: because we have an attachment at the split Ends, we have more pathways, 12 instead of 6, and thus we can invoke LookBack counting. Did not see that coming. Makes great sense. Nice to tie that bit together.

That seems to open up a lot: as in, count to 419 and you count 420 as the far edge when 419 is the focus. And all that connects to the focus being the 1 in 0-1-0 that fits in the 1-0-1 End-to-End process. And that is SBE, so that’s back.

But how does this count in a gs sheet? I’m thinking it’s not the same sheet at all, but rather a sheet in which the 1segments which define Hexagons are all split at the Ends. That means the Triangular layer is separated by the inversion of the enclosing 1segments to the center so the density changes, so not all Ends are at the center of Hexes. You can count: it’s a 1 to 6 difference. This is becoming something enormous: this is how the mechanics works to invert that 1segment circumference to its center. Note I just typed circumference because now it is appropriate to say the 1segments approach smoothness, and this invokes the externality that was missing when it was only overlapping Hexes and thus circles.

Note how the attachments at the Ends (as opposed to over the 1segment, over a gs, and then to an End) define the inner edges. And you can see how: the concept of a set defining the gs parallels as a process means the gs has an edge which does not have bT attributes. This can be done rigorously, but it can be simply stated as requiring 1Space to separate the attributes, meaning the disappearing points which sit between the edges. Wow. Did not even think that was an issue until I saw this. It’s a huge point.

But that is how and why we can count 1Space. It connects in the necessary dimensions. This moment is like seeing a vast truth stretching out like a meadow full of flowers.

I didn’t even realize that was an issue. Wow. That hits me hard. I just work here.

A 1 to 6 difference must be SBE2’s ultimate validation. I mean, seriously: we have the inversion of 6 attached gs into the center of a Hexagon, and those gs create vast parallel swathes separated by 6 Shards attached at the 6 Ends of the Hexagon. And all that simplifies to the 6 count of SBE2 defining the center point of the Hex.

A magic trick just happened in my head: I saw that central End split open like it was one of those small balls magicians hide under cups and now it’s 2, and that recreates the same tiling. That means the gs prime process is at the heart of a Hexagon! My great mystery is solved! The heart of a Hex splits in two.

This is the absolute perfect answer. It describes how the values form mechanically in both gs and Triangular. I’m totally blown away. I had no idea at all this was the answer.

I think I need to go for a walk.

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guiltysecretpasttime · 3 years

Note

Consider the idea of Lin /Bumi badly timed proposals"? (just a humble linumi shipper loving your fanfics)

Note: Here's my belated response to this prompt. It ran away from me again until I struggled to close the story out. Hope you like it!

One-shot Post-canon AU Lin x Bumi II

Also on AO3.

---

Outside of the military, Bumi was known to be the spontaneous one. The Avatar’s child who was the most likely to get into trouble. Or get into an adventure, as his grinning father would correct. He was the kid who took quickly to throwing fruit pies to the air acolytes. He was the teen who travelled to the next city because there was a Pro-bending competition happening there. As an adult, he was also the one who tried (and succeeded in) applying for the United Forces on a whim.

It was not often that Bumi would plan for anything linked to his personal life.

This was why, on the weeks leading up to that Night (with a capital N), he felt out of his depth. He did what he did best and tried to plan as he would regarding a military campaign.

This was why he thought he was assured of success.

What he did not count on was the extraneous factors, which was their extended family and social circle.

That – and the weather.

---

“Booms -I’m sorry, it’s not going to work out.” Iroh’s voice crackled over the telephone. “That downpour wouldn’t make anything stick long enough to be legible.”

Bumi sighed as he peered at the window of Tenzin’s study. The waves did crash unpleasantly against the edge of Air Temple Island as the rain fell. “Well, we can still move it tomorrow, right? You and the boys are still free?”

“Of course, provided that the weather is better. As for our availability - ,” Whatever Iroh said was lost as the line crackled again as it was wont to do when the weather was poor. Bumi clicked his tongue. Tenzin really needed to have some repairs made in this temple. “- So after that, we can definitely pick it up for you.”

“Great!” Bumi could care less if they need to adjust the timing a bit – as long as it pushesthrough.

He did not need the details.

---

Or maybe, he should have probed for more details.

The retired commander saw that now as he watched visitors mill around Air Temple Island.

Various air acolytes and airbenders from the different temples now crowd the usually empty courtyard.

How was he to know that it was time for the anniversary of the return of the airbenders? He did not even know there was an identified datefor that.

Or maybe, he would have known had he listened to Tenzin’s lectures.

He scratched his chin, pensively, wondering if this might change anything when something cold and wet lashed at his behind.

“Hello, Bumi.” His sister walked over, a water whip formed at her side, grinning as she usually did.

“Mother said you shouldn’t hit people.”

“Mother said a lot of things that you didn’t follow.” Kya crossed her arms mockingly. She nodded to the entrance of the residential building where their mother stood, surrounded by her youngest grandchildren.

He understood. They never could begrudge their mother anything, especially now with her waning health.

A sea of green passed in the periphery.

“I see Suyin and her brood are here.” Bumi contemplated briefly if it would have any impact to his plans.

Kya commented. “Did they really have to be always in green?”

“Did you always have to be in blue?”

“Touche.” Kya shrugged. “Though, I needed to be blue to occasionally camouflage in the South Pole if I needed to be stealthy.”

“For what?”

From afar, they see Katara beckoning Kya forward from where she and Pema stood by the stoop of the house. “I’ll go get settled now.”

Bumi excused himself, citing some reason to check on something, which, technically he needed to do.

“Tenzin said nothing formal; nothing big. Just a small gathering.” The loud voice of the Avatar grumbled.

The clinking of metal was heard next before Bumi rounded the corner. “And yet, everyone is here.”

“Chief Beifong!”

“Avatar.” Lin inclined her head in greeting, with blank politeness on her face.

Bumi knew better though – the slight tightening of her jaw and the grip she had on her belt: oh, Lin was irritated.

“What’s up?” Korra toyed with the sleeves of her formal wear, obviously uncomfortable.

“How are your travels?” Bumi interjected, popping beside Lin before she manages any acerbic remark.

“We are travelling in style! I think I could get used to it.”

“I think you already are.” Asami looked on with amusement.

“You’re lucky,” Bumi pointed towards where Oogi and the younger bison were flying around. “Dad had to travel on a sky bison.”

“Mom said it wasn’t pleasant.” Lin wrinkled her nose.

“There! You! Are!” Bolin ran and huffed as he arrived before them, doubling over in the effort. “Wing and Wei just found where the food was being prepared, we can sneak off to get some before the– oh hello Chief Beifong!”

“I did not hear anything.” Lin looked skyward and waved her hand at them.

“Beifong!” Bumi quickly caught up with Lin, who strode off quickly when the teenagers started talking about food. “Are you on duty?”

“Yes.” Lin sighed, putting her hand on her hips then stomping, doing a seismic perimeter check. “I know, but I have to.”

“I’ll look for you later.”

“Alright. We’re a bit stretched – Tenzin did not give us the correct numbers of attendees, as usual.” Her forehead crinkled as she concentrated on the perimeter check. “Good thing the Fire Lord sent General Iroh and some of his men to represent their nation.”

“Oh, that’s what he meant.” Bumi murmured to himself.

Lin glanced at him in askance.

“Iroh.” Bumi did not want to expound further. Lin had a way of ferreting out the truth from him without seismic sense anyway.

Bumi accompanied her like a silent sentinel as Chief Beifong went about doing check to her team and on the island.

They have finally arrived at the main courtyard where the usually unflappable master airbender was fluttering about like a bright orange butterfly, holding several sheets of paper, which no doubt was the program for the day.

Lin groaned when Tenzin noticed them.

“Lin!”

“I better go ahead.” With one final eye-rolling, Lin left Bumi’s side before he could even ask where she will be stationed at the end of the program.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Bumi jumped a bit, startled by Kya once again. “Of course not, my meddling gossipy sister.”

She offered him a drink, which he rightly declined. “What’s Tenzin up to?”

The man was now talking rapidly to the chief of police. They were far enough not to hear them but near enough to see what was going on.

“He’s quite excitable.” The retired military man shrugged. “Thank the spirits for Pema, that woman is a saint.”

“You mean, thank the spirits for Lin,” Kya nodded towards the pair as she took a sip of her drink. “Pema was just about ready to rip her hair off these past days. She was looking quite frazzled earlier and after a drink or two, bam! Out tumbled everything - Tenzin was anxious and has been driving her nuts with all the prep for today’s celebration.” She raised a glass to the earthbender and airbender on the main event area. “But look over there – just a few words from our dear Chief of Police and the man calms down.”

Bumi could not help but tense up as he observed Lin and Tenzin on the platform.

As Lin continued to converse with his younger brother, Tenzin began to slowly deflate. A smile started to form on the earlier stressed airbender’s face and the corner of Lin’s lips upturned, a ghost of a smile.

“I swear – those two, I wonder how it would have turned out for them had they known this was going to happen anyway…” Kya trails off, as though suddenly realizing who she was talking to. “I mean – hey, they’re both in happy relationships and it’s perfect and -.”

Bumi swallowed drily, drowning out his sister’s voice.

He had thought about that occasionally, really. There was nothing to go on and Lin had been upfront about, well, everything so he knew where her heart is.

But, looking at the pair now, at the anniversary of the return of the airbenders, supposedly the pinnacle of all their arguments…

“Booms – don’t do anything stupid.”

Now that snapped him from his maudlin thoughts. “Why is it that everyone thinks I’m gonna do something stupid when I keep quiet? It’s a bit offensive, you know.”

“Bumi, I didn’t mean -.”

No matter, Bumi was adamant that his Plan pushes through.

---

“POP! POP! BOOOM! BOOOM POP! Whiiiizzz! BOOM!”

Everyone on Air Temple Island (and even those at the edge of Republic City) looked up to see fireworks littering the night sky.

“BEIFONG… WILL…YOU… ohmy sweet - is that a ring??? .. ME.” Suyin squealed as she read what the fireworks were spelling out.

There was a cacophony from the courtyard of Air Temple Island as everyone sought to find which Beifong was being proposed to.

From their perches around the island, Iroh and the UF men whooped in success of their mission tonight – deploying the firework proposal.

“OH-MY-BOLIIIIN!”

All eyes were on Opal who was clutching at a wide-eyed earthbender.

“What?!”

Various voices added to the din, shouting different things.

“Bolin did you really?!” Mako pointed up to the sky.

“What – no I did not. I’m not marrying – I mean,” Bolin swiftly turned to Opal. “I would like to marry you.” Then he shouted at Su and Baatar Senior’s direction. “But not now. One day but not now – I mean, I need to talk to Su and Baat – oh shit Su’s gonna kill me.”

Attention turned to Baatar and Suyin.

“Um no,” Baatar shrugged casually, an arm around his wife. “It’s not our anniversary anytime soon.”

Suyin was still being antsy. “Wing! Wei! Did any of you -?” She saw her twins wave up their arms in surrender, wildly shaking their heads as they each held a plate of food. “If that’s not you…”

“Kuvira and Junior –.” Wei.

“That is unlikely.” Wing.

“Huan?” Both Wing and Wei asked, everyone’s heads swiveled to the artistic Beifong.

“Excuse me.” Huan looked very offended, as though it was an insult that someone would be proposing to him in public.

Bumi’s face fell as the Beifongs present began arguing as to who the firework proposal was for and the actual Beifong who the proposal was meant for was nowhere to be seen.

Just then a soft squeal and a sniffle came from Kya’s side.

Pema was holding to her arm. “No-no-no – it’s for Lin, don’t you see? That’s why – Tenzin is leaving me.” Every other word was punctuated with a sniffle. “That’s why they’ve been talking over plans and that’s why – I saw them talk to Jinora the other day. Oh-airbenders-Tenzin is -leaaving me.”

“Ahem, I have an announcement!”

Now, everyone turned to stare back at the platform where Tenzin stood. Behind him, stood two more people - Lin Beifong stood in his shadows, arms crossed, a guard observing the proceedings, while Jinora stood to the side with a nervous smile, hands at her back.

“Ooohhhh!” Pema let out a wail.

“Shh, Pema!”

Bumi froze. There have been still some lingering insecurities that were in relation to his brother that would take a long time to tamp down. With the man’s whimpering wife at the side and his own significant other beside said man, it did not take much to wear Bumi down to his insecurities.

“This has been a long time coming and before anything else,” Tenzin paused at this to throw a significant look at his back. “I would like to say that this is no split second decision, we’ve talked about it and well –.”

No way he was going to let Tenzin take over his plan tonight.

“I will be stepping down soon with Jinora as my successor.”

“LinBeifong, will you marry me?”

Two voices rang into the night, clearly silencing any other words that might have been going on.

Bumi did not care for or did not mind what the reactions of the people around them were. He only had eyes for the earthbender who was gaping at him then looking back at the sky then back at him.

He worried the longer it took for Lin to react.

From his side, Pema sagged in relief against her sister-in-law while Jinora and Tenzin stood at the platform, greeting well-wishers.

Lin, meanwhile, was yet to do anything other than stand still.

“OH – we forgot the most eligible Beifong of today!” Bolin stated the obvious, pointing to the sky and back at Chief Beifong on the stage.

“What are you doing, go get her.” Kya nudged him from the back.

Bumi ran to the stage, almost tripping on his formal robes. “Lin – I’m so sorry – I didn’t think it would be this public – I -.” Lin hated public displays. “I ain’t doing this to pressure, I -.”

Lin gripped his arm to stop him from speaking.

The crowd went silent as Suyin could be heard shushing everyone (“Quiet! We need to hear what her answer is!”).

Bumi’s heart sank as Lin pulled away from him.

This is it. The Rejection.

He could only look to the ground, unwilling to face family, friends and even his former colleagues in the UF.

Suddenly there was a rumble on the ground as Lin extended a leg in front of her and she raised her arms slowly with a grunt.

“YES – BUMI – I – WILL – dear Agni – Liiiin is marrying Bumi!” Su’s shrill voice read out the words etched on the courtyard.

Tenzin groaned, mumbling about the destruction of his courtyard.

“Shut it, airhead. That courtyard has seen worse when you broke up with -.”

Nope, he did not want to hear about their break-up and so Bumi took Lin in his arms and planted a nice long kiss to seal the deal.

He pulled back and was met with a large grin on Lin’s face.

It might not have worked as he expected or planned it to be but at least, he could honestly say that it was -

Mission accomplished.

#linumi #linumi fanfic #lin x bumi ii #lin beifong #bumi ii

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓮 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝓮 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝓃𝓮𝒹 (𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷!𝒮𝒶𝓃) 𝓡𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐷𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛! 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐷𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝐴𝑈

"𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒂 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆...

𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍’𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔.."

-𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆: 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑯𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒓𝒆

𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

The young raven haired man strolled through the crowds of other guests, taking a glance or two whenever something seemed to catch his eyes. But those glances were only fleeting. There seemed to be nothing particularly interesting in any of them.

He took in the scene before him: long, glittering ball gowns spun around, either in tune to the orchestra playing or in a presumptuous effort to be shown off to others. The male specimen differed no greater than their female counterparts, often standing up straighter or running a hand down their expensive and delicately tailored suits, except they were willing to take it a step further and actually discuss how much they paid for it.

Foolish mortals

He scoffed as he studied each one of them. It was truly sickening to him how much humanity had reached its lowest point. More frequently than not, he noticed how humans more than ever were vain, prideful, arrogant, egotistic and disdainful of anything or anyone who wasn't them.

It wasn't entertaining anymore. He recalls a time many centuries ago when he would get a thrill out of corrupting the innocent, driving the wisest of beings into insanity, destroying picture perfect marriages and making the purest of souls fall into an abyss of sin and darkness.

What was the point of trying to do all that now when some of them are destined for destruction since the moment of their birth? It truly irritated him.

Sighing he picked up a glass of wine from one of the trays carried around by the many butlers, poor useless souls as he liked to refer to them. He sipped on the crimson liquid, it's alcoholic venom doing nothing to him even though it was probably his 13th one already.

13? Was it?

He lost count. He shrugged it off though. He could drink it as if it were pure water, his kind were immune to this substance unlike humanity.

He snorted when he'd look at certain people's masks. While most went all fancy and elegant, others decided to have fun and make sure their attire stood out, in the form of red or black masks, adorned with either fangs, horns and overall rather gruesome or grotesque visages. Clearly they were meant to represent none other than his fellow kindred. He scoffed at their personification of him.

"Damnable bastards. If only you knew we are some of the most beautiful creatures to walk next to you....."

Perhaps that's the main reason why they all, man or woman, no matter their age, education or social status, end up ensnared by them. They were irresistible.

He was about to walk out of the hall, bored out of his non-existent soul, when a small titter caught his ears. Turning his face towards the sound, his breath was caught at the sight of an ethereal looking woman. His eyes scanned her from head to toe. She was absolutely perfect: from her luscious (enter color) hair, to her satin smooth skin, all the way down the her tempting figure. Her scarlet colored dress was impeccably on her, the deep plunge in the chest decorated with sequins and rhinestones daring men to not gaze at her cleavage. The waistline was fitted and then fanned out to accentuate her captivating body. Anyone would think this lady was sin itself, she certainly looked the part.

But San knew better. He could see and feel the aura around her. She was wholly pure, absolutely nothing to signify that she'd been stained or deemed unclean. She was simply an overly sheltered girl who no doubt wanted to fit in, be regarded as a mundane person like the rest of them.

Absolutely perfect if you asked him.

He sauntered in her direction, his devilish smirk plastered on his face. Sensing a pair of eyes, she tilted her head and made contact with the demon, now unable to look away from his alluring gaze. Even through the mask covering half of his face, she knew he was the most handsome man she'd ever see, albeit she'd never seen a lot of men in her life anyway.

Inexperienced and naive as she was, she let him stand next to her and take her hand. Lifting it up to his lips, he introduced himself:

"Choi San. Pleased to make your acquaintance my fair lady."

Delicately, he placed a kiss to her fingers, before releasing them from his hold. His touch was cold, but it sent a burning sensation up her entire arm and she found herself longing for his touch again almost instantly.

"L/N Y/N..." She replied in a voice that was merely above a whisper.

"A truly befitting name for such an angelic lady."

He chuckled to himself at his use of the word. If he was successful, which he always was, by the end of the night, there'd be nothing angelic left about her.

He extended his arm out towards her.

"May I have the pleasure of requesting the next dance?"

He made it a point to flash his dimples, knowing they only added to his charm and rendered women unable to refuse him. She stood up and linked her arm in his. He felt a shiver when she touched him, a feeling he only felt when his kind were in the proximity of a pure soul. It was precisely what he'd been craving for who knows how long. Definitely more than a hundred years since the last time he felt such a presence.

He guided her to the dance floor, the other couples already in position. If there was anything San prided himself on, it was his dancing. He's had years of experience to learn almost every dance that had been created, not only because it added to his attractiveness, but because it truly was one of the few mundane things he thoroughly enjoyed.

He especially loved the waltz they were currently playing. Waltzes were so elegant, refined, polished and were perfect when seducing someone. Intense eye contact, hands intertwined and his arm pulling her close to him, he could see a glimpse of the light blush peeking out underneath her ebony mask. She was flustered, exactly how he wanted her. They were practically gliding across the dance floor, perfectly in tune with the music playing.

"Did you come alone?" San decided it was time to strike up a conversation before going for the kill.

Y/N simply nodded, looking down somewhat ashamed. Instantly he knew she was probably not supposed to be here in the first place.

Interesting detail.

"Tired of sitting at home all bored?" He raised an eyebrow at her, but already knowing the answer.

"Can you tell?" She asked, wondering if he could read her mind.

"Well..... I can tell a lot of things about you..."

Releasing his hold on her waist, he lifted his hand to spin her around before bringing her back into his embrace, now closer than before.

"Things like what?" She wanted him to elaborate.

He hummed along to the music, making her impatient for his answer.

"Like..... how you want something exciting to happen tonight. Your eyes are practically for something, anything, that contrasts the dull life you've lived so far..."

She widened her eyes when he spoke those words. Was she that easy to read? That a mere stranger could notice that about her?

"And your countenance only serves to confirm my theory." He finished.

She sighed softly and loosened her grip on him, wanting to walk away, but he only tightened his hold on her. He smirked at her and leaned in, whispering dangerously close to her lips:

"Why don't you let me open up a new world for you?"

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

The girl fluttered her eyes open, soft blissful pants escaping her lips. It had been a while since they left the mansion, where San took her to what she assumed was his place. Ruby red walls with matching velvet carpet, umber brown furniture, candles in every corner being the only illuminating feature in the dark room. The only exception was the bed. It was a pitch black color with white sheets and blanket.

Her dress had long been discarded in one of the chairs in the room, the only article clothing her at the moment being her cream colored garter belt with matching thigh high stockings. San thought they looked absolutely adorable on her. The visual only heightened his need to claim her, to corrupt her, to stain her forever with his unholy mark.

He was currently in between her legs, his mouth attached to her heat. Purple blotches were already decorating her inner thighs, courtesy of his teeth. He swirled his tongue around her clit before sucking down on it. He moaned and that action alone made her thighs tremble and close around his head. But he was having none of that. His hands pushed her thighs apart again, nails digging into her petal soft skin as he continued to ravish and feast on her succulent taste.

"S-San...wait...feels f-funny...." She stuttered out after a few minutes.

He knew exactly what she was referring to: she had about to have an orgasm. As much as he'd love to see her come undone on his tongue alone, he made an effort to pull himself back before the feeling got too intense. She let out a whine of frustration and looked at him with a puzzled look, unsure of what was happening.

San ran his thumb across her lip.

"Don't worry darling. I told you I'll open up a new world for you..

And I always keep my promises."

Unzipping his pants, he pushed them down his legs and threw them onto the floor. He smirked as he took in Y/N's astonishment as she gaped at his nude form, or more specifically, at his thick and long length. She seemed to hesitate for a minute, no doubt intimidated by his size, wondering how was that supposed to fit in her.

Climbing on top of her, he placed a reassuring kiss to her temple.

"I'll take good care of you darling...trust me."

His lips captured hers in a hungry kiss. His tongue slipped inside and danced around her mouth, almost like the waltz from hours before. His hands went to the back of her thighs, lifting them up and wrapping them around his waist. He lifted his hips up slowly, the tip of his cock pressing against her folds. He began slipping inside her, going inch by inch so she could get adjusted to the feeling, not wanting to scare her.

Although it took a lot in him to not just pound into her as he wished to.

She wrapped her thighs tighter around his waist, the foreign and stinging feeling of his intrusion causing her to hiss and cry out a little. San peppered kisses across her jaw and neck in an effort to soothe the pain, while his hands drew circles around her thighs. He stayed still until he felt her relax under him. She looked back at him, her face asking what to do now.

"I'm going to start moving now ok? Just relax and let yourself go."

He pulled out of her in a speed that was torturous to him. Then he slowly pushed himself back in, watching as she took deep breaths and looked down at where their bodies connected. The more she looked at him pushing in and out, the more it helped to relax and put her at ease. San knew it too. Her at first raspy breathing turned to soft, melodious moaning.

His hips snapped up and began rolling at a faster pace, causing his cock to hit the perfect angle in her. Her breath hitched and she gasped when the overwhelming feeling in her stomach started to return, building up inside her, threatening to be released any second now.

The demon could feel it too. He's had years of experience to know what her body was doing. He watched as her face contorted, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Sa-San..." She called out, trying to warn him.

He smirked at her.

"I know, I can feel you clenching around me. You feel so good. I can't wait to feel you cum on my immense cock."

His dirty talking only served to have her whine underneath him. His hand reached down and began toying with her nipple.

"So come on babygirl, let me feel you burst. I know you can do it.....

Give it to me."

He commanded those last words to her and just like he knew would happen, she shuddered under his body, her first orgasm in her entire life taking over her, a soft pathetic whimper being the only noise she could muster. It wasn't anything too loud or over the top, as San pretty much expected. It was her first time.

Besides.....there was plenty of time to have her scream his name.

He kissed her nose and smiled.

"You did so well darling. I'm so proud of you."

She blushed at his compliments. San pulled out of her, a proud evil grin plastered on his face as he noticed the sticky trail that dripped out of her onto the sheets: a few droplets of blood signifying he had deflowered her.

Now to corrupt her even more.

He picked her body up and spun her around, making her get down on all fours as he gripped her hips once again.

"Now it's my turn to have a little fun."

She let out a loud moan when he entered her for the second time, her body still sensitive from her first orgasm. San didn't bother to go slow anymore, he knew she could take it. He thrusted in and out of her at an inhuman speed, low moans and hisses coming out of his mouth.

"Fuck! I can feel you getting close again beautiful, your pussy is so fucking tight, it's practically swallowing my cock."

He chuckled when he felt her clench even tighter around him.

"Oh you like that don't you? You like being told you're nothing but a cockslut?"

She hid her face in the pillow in front of her, trying to hide the groan that just past through her throat. San however grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face back up.

"Answer me you little whore."

She yelped when his hand landed a harsh smack to her ass.

"Y-yes San!"

He smacked her once again before pulling her even more roughly and pressing her back to his chest.

"Right now it's Master. Got it you filthy slut?" He growled into her ear.

"Yes Master!" She cried out.

"Good little whore." He praised her.

He continued his merciless pounding, one of his hands trailing down her abdomen to rub her now swollen and pink clit. Y/N now had a few tears rolling down her cheeks from the overstimulation and she hung her head low.

"Uh uh little slut. None of that."

His free hand wrapped around her neck, forcing her to look up. He tilted her slightly to the right so she could see their sinful reflection in the mirror by the wall.

"Look at you. You look so fucking desperate, wanting to cum again on my cock. Is that what you want? To cum on master's cock? Then beg for it."

Y/N let out a series of whimpers, collecting all the strength she could to cry out:

"Please master! I want to cum, let me cum on your cock!"

San was loving this. It had been so long since he had such an innocent thing begging for him.

"How bad do you want it darling? Does Master's cock make you feel that good?" He teased her.

"Please Master I want it so bad! It feels so good, please don't stop!" Her words were barely incoherent now from how overwhelmed with pleasure she was.

Having being satisfied by her answer, he squeezed her throat, causing her to gasp and writhe her body as her second orgasm took over, far more intense than the first. He never slowed down his pace therefore making her convulse even more violently and shriek out a chant of his name, further heightening his pride and ego.

Very soon after, he cursed loudly as he reached his own climax, his cock spurting out his cum inside her, filling her up with his sinful load. She collapsed on the bed, worn out by the physical intimacy that just took place. San chucked darkly when not even a minute later she was completely passed out. That always happened. Humans couldn't handle having intercourse with a demon, they were practically insatiable and always passed out after a night with them.

Pulling the blanket to cover her, San ran his fingers through her hair. He admired her features for a few minutes. She was really beautiful, an ethereal beauty that only came once every century. Even in her now corrupted and tainted state, she was still the most alluring person he'd ever seen, and he's seen even angels themselves.

Now he knew he wanted her all to himself, completely for him and for no one else to own. He wasn't going to allow anyone to take her from him. He didn't have to worry about celestial beings claiming her, they wouldn't want her now. But other demons might want her.....

Getting up he opened a drawer and took out something he'd never imagine using in any lifetime. But there was always a first time for everything. He held up the gold contraption in his hand before letting it set over one of the flames from the various candles in the room. Once he made sure it was hot enough, he approached Y/N quietly.

It's a good thing she wouldn't wake up for a couple hours....

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Y/N squinted, trying to let her eyes adjust to the lighting. She felt a dull aching in her lower abdomen and legs, reminding her of the events that took place last night. She looked around, seeing that she was still at San's place, but he was nowhere to be found. She sat up and rubbed her shoulder, feeling some sort of burning and stinging pain.

She paused when she looked at the mirror and noticed something on the back of her shoulder. Getting up and trying her hardest to walk with her limp, she went to the mirror and turned slightly to the left. She froze when there was a bright red mark on her upper back in the shape of a pentagram with the letter 'S' in the middle of it.

She started freaking out. Was this some kind of joke? Where was San?

"Well good morning my dear."

Speaking of the devil, he appeared right behind her, making her whip around and face him.

"Did you do this?" She asked, pointing to the mark.

"I did. I think it really suits you." He smiled proudly.

"Why? Why would you do this?"

"Why you ask? It's simple."

He took a few steps forward. Leaning in, he gripped her chin.

"Because you're mine now and I own you."

She scoffed at his words, repulsed that he could do this.

"You're insane." She spat out.

"I've been called worse." He sat up straight again.

Y/N marched over to the chair on the other side and began grabbing her clothes.

"And just where do you think you're doing?" San crossed his arms in front of him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving."

He let out a hearty laugh at that.

"Leaving? Oh no sweetheart. You're not leaving. You can't leave me." He told her.

"Yeah? Watch me."

She pushed him out of her way and headed for the door, but before she could reach for the handle, San appeared right in front of her out of thin air, causing her to step back in fear.

"What the-" She exclaimed.

"Let me repeat myself darling..."

San began to take steps towards her as she began to slowly retreat from him.

"I own you. You can't leave because you're mine now. I marked you so no one else takes you from me, in other words..."

He slammed his hand against the wall behind her when they reached it. She watched in horror as his dark orbs shifted into a fiery red color that burned deep in her soul.

"You're bound to me for all eternity...... and now you're a part of my world....and there's no turning back..."

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fantasy au #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez san #choi san #demon!ateez #demon!au #ateez angst #ateez san smut #ateez san scenarios #ateez san fanfic #ateez san angst #ateez san au #demon!san

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ally-127 · 4 years

Note

Can I request study date with mingyu at the library but your skirt is a little to short for his liking and then... I’ll let you decide lmao

study date

pairing : mingyu x reader ( college!AU ) word count : 2.5k warnings : public sex; exhibitionism; teasing; degradation; fingering; orgasm denial; music : ‘flow’ by monsta x a/n : i added some fluffy, slice of life at the start because who would i be without that

it was sunny out that day, rays of golden sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains of your bedroom. lively birds chirped outside your window, accompanied by the hustle and bustle down the streets of seoul.

it was a nice day to have plans, which was how you quickly scrambled for your phone to text mingyu in order to make some in the first place.

study date at the library?

he replied you less than a minute later.

see you at 12 :)

shoving a thick block of a textbook for constitutional law into your tote bag along with your laptop and some loose sheets of lined paper, you set the bag down in front of your door before sorting through your dresser for something loose and light to wear.

to your surprise, you managed to find a dress in the small expanse of your drawers. it was made of black satin and had long, thin strings all over the place. as you put it on with a slight struggle, you realised that the dress had a slight cowl neckline in the front and backless, tied together by a ribbon just between your shoulder blades.

this resulted in you discarding your bra from underneath. it was a daring move, considering how thin the material is, but you were running out of time and couldn’t be bothered to find another outfit. besides, you also wanted to give mingyu a little tease just for the kicks.

after quickly lacing up your favourite pair of matching black low-cut converses, you were out the door in less than five minutes.

the walk to the library was not as pleasant as you had expected it to be. the weather was warmer than usual. it was a sign of spring transitioning into summer.

the midday, sizzling heat and the humid air drew perspiration from your skin.

by the time you’d reached the designated location, you were covered in light sheen of sweat and your hair was pulled up into a mess of a bun on the top of your head.

at least your mascara and eyeliner were waterproof.

the library was packed with people, mostly students. their heads were all bent, almost to ninety degrees, in focused silence. there were hushed murmurs here and there, but other than that the place was mostly quiet.

as it should be.

you pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, your eyes scanning the area to look for a particularly tall boy with particularly sharp canines and a particularly sweet smile.

“looking for me?” a low voice asked from behind you.

you jumped, startled.

mingyu stood in front of you, clad in a classic black t-shirt and light-washed, ripped jeans. his hair, the colour of milk chocolate, was swept away from his face. those strands looked incredibly soft you were one step away from asking what his shampoo and conditioner were.

the heat you were now feeling was clearly not from the weather as his eyes, akin to the colour of his hair, raked down your body.

you brushed away the momentary burn of exhilaration you felt from his stare, deciding to focus on the smile that tugged by his lips.

he gave you a light kiss on the lips as a form of greeting. you offered him a bright smile in return. no words were exchanged between you two then.

that was, until you began to receive weird looks from those who occupied the tables closest to the entrance for lingering there

“come on,” you took his arm. “let’s find a place to sit.”

you two found a spot by the panelled windows that overlooked the city ahead. cars, skyscrapers and pedestrians were splashed out before you like an urban art piece.

courtesy of the sun, shadows in the shape of the grids formed on the wooden desk. this tiny detail made the entire spot an even more pleasing sight to see.

“pretty, huh?” mingyu said under his breath.

you nodded.

a minute later, you had all your materials scattered across your workspace. your laptop sat the furthest away, the presentation slides from your lecture last week on full screen for reference and your bulky textbook right under your nose.

mingyu busied himself with reading a copy of jane austen’s pride and prejudice. his space, in comparison to yours, was looking rather desolate.

“aside from being a hopeless romantic,” you mused, eyeing the book in his hand. “do you ever, you know, study?”

“already did this morning,” he murmured without looking up. he sat further back from the desk, an ankle crossed over a knee. “finished most of the syllabus covered so far. even went the extra mile to skim through the next chapter.”

“productive,” you couldn’t help the sarcasm as averted your eyes back to your book and paper, uncapping the pen to begin writing.

as time went by, you realised that mingyu was here literally only to accompany you. he didn’t have anything to do aside from indulging himself in elizabeth bennet and mr. darcy. you grinned to yourself at the fact, your heart taking massive leap in your chest.

“what’re you smiling at?” he peered past your shoulder at what you were working on. “is constitutional law that fun?”

“it’s nothing,” you waved him off.

mingyu shifted his chair forward so he was closer to you. you felt strong arms wrap around your bare shoulders and his chin resting on your collarbone.

“it’s not nothing,” his book dangled from his hand as he clasped them by your neck.

“i’m just happy,” you put your pen down. “that you’re here with me.”

“i can say the same,” his chin moved on your shoulder as he spoke. “i missed you.”

“it’s been three days,” you murmured.

“yeah, well,” he said, trailing off into a daydream. “it’s three days too long.”

“patience is a virtue,” you gave him a swift glance from the side of your eye.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked at you and now you knew you probably have said the wrong thing.

sooner or later he’d use this against you.

you resumed writing, mingyu remaining in his position with his arms enveloped around you while he peeked at your notes and textbook.

“i’m not illiterate but i can’t seem to understand a single word you’re writing,” you saw him frown in confusion in your peripheral vision as he read the information you were jotting down on paper.

“i don’t blame you,” you murmured, a mild headache beginning to form in your temples.

you sighed as you noticed one of your points about the freedom of speech needed further elaboration.

you were sure this library contained some sort of reference in the legal section that you could use. so you tapped on mingyu’s arm, silently asking him to move so you could stand up and look for it.

“where are you going?” he looked up at you.

in this close proximity, mingyu could see the slight outline of your nipples through the thin material of your dress. the buds were hardened in response to the air conditioner being blasted in this library.

you weren’t wearing a bra today.

he bit his lip, feeling himself slowly grow rigid in his pants. he silently cursed himself for reacting like a preteen who had just seen tits for the first time.

“to the law section,” you replied.

mingyu kept his eyes on you. from a lower angle, he was able discern how awfully short the skirt of your dress was and from the way you walked so carelessly it seemed like you didn’t notice it at all. the shape of your ass was highlighted even more so now, the end of your dress teasing the top most part of your thighs.

if you had just lifted your leg slightly, whatever you were wearing underneath would be exposed to the naked eye. if you were even wearing any.

he inhaled sharply, unsure on what to do with his concupiscent thoughts. he watched you disappear as you wandered further down the hall of the library.

your footsteps were light on the ground as you browsed through the different shelves of law books, eyes scanning for the word ‘constitution’. you craned your neck up, finally spotting one and reached up to get it.

it was, however, way out of your reach. no matter how much you tiptoed and how far your arms extended, there was no way of getting it. you looked around the room for a stepping stool but sadly there were none in sight. in addition to that the entire section was empty, not a soul to be seen.

so you considered jumping, your shoes thumping mutedly against the wooden floor.

obviously, that didn’t work. it only drained your energy.

almost effortlessly a second later, an arm reached up to grab the exact book you had your eye on.

before you could turn to protest, you were met by the face of your boyfriend. mingyu leaned himself against the shelf, holding the book up almost teasingly.

like holding a piece of raw meat in front of a tiger.

“looking for this?”

now, you felt like the prey.

there was a newfound hunger in the way he stared at you. a flame, bright with excitement, burned behind his eyes and it could only mean one thing.

you weren’t unfamiliar with it. you were just confused as to what triggered him or more specifically,

what turned him on.

you already had something in mind, but you wanted to tease the answer out of him.

“do you know,” he slid the book back on the shelf with ease as he took more steps closer. “that what you’re wearing is far too short?”

so that was what it’s about.

“do i?” you glanced down, fingers toying with the hem of your dress.

you played along, with pleasure.

“don’t talk back,” the more steps forward he took, the more steps backward you took until you were up against the wall.

mingyu was right in front of you now, lips millimetres away.

“do you enjoy other men staring at your ass like that?” he held your jaw between his thumb and pointer finger. he could force your mouth open if he pressed any harder, but he didn’t. “answer me.”

“i didn’t know anyone was staring at me,” you said truthfully but a knowing smirk swept across your lips. “and i didn’t know it would have that much of an effect on you.”

“are you sure?” his eyes trailed down to your chest, where your nipples peeked through.

“maybe i wanted to tease you,” you laughed at how tense he was, already spotting a tent in his jeans as he snaked an arm around your waist. “but that was it.”

“is it funny how hard i am for you?” he closed the distance between your bodies so his crotch grounded against your pelvic bone.

“a little,” you said, voice turning breathy as mingyu shifted his hand from your jaw down to graze the skin on your inner thigh.

heat blossomed in your core, the urge to press your thighs together apparent as his hand travelled further up your dress. his hand disappeared under your skirt, the material hiking up his wrist. the tips of his fingers brushed the lace of your underwear, almost your clit but not there just yet.

“mingyu,” your hands sought purchase on his broad shoulders, head leaning against the wall.

“is it funny now?” his whispered into your ear, long fingers unfurling to cup your sex. he pushed his hand up into you. jolts of electricity soared up your spine, your body almost jerking upwards against his from the sudden pressure.

“n-not here,” at this rate, you began to whimper.

“why not?” mingyu’s voice had noticeably gone down a couple octaves, the baritone quaking through your core. his spread his fingers in your underwear so his middle finger rubbed directly on your slit. your back arched on the wall, pressing your chest harder on him in response. your hips undulated on his hand, urging him to fucking move.

“people w-will see.”

“they’ll see how much of a slut you are,” he nipped the lobe of your ear, breath hot and needy. he stroked your clit, slow and unrelenting. “just for me.”

his words, dirty and brimming with desire, were enough to intoxicate you in a haze of what he was feeling. his lips form a sardonic grin of your state, finally giving you a taste of your own medicine.

“you like that?” his hand from your waist moved up to your breast, squeezing it and shooting pleasure straight to your aching pussy. “you like letting the whole world see you take my cock right on this wall?”

you pressed your lips on his to hide the moan the slips from them as he rubbed your clothed-sex with full force. he gladly swallowed the wanton sound of your cry, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to grant his tongue access to the depths of your heated mouth. a multitude of groans rumbled in his chest, soft enough so only you could hear, while he nudged a thigh between your legs for support and elevate your leg slightly for him to reach deeper.

your hands carded through his hair, pulling on the roots as he continued his assault on your clit. your eyes were half-closed and fluttering from overwhelming pleasure. he pushed your panties to the side, slowly and allowing the elastic to snap against your now exposed folds. you jumped, the pain eliciting a new sensation.

mingyu took the opportunity to slip his ring finger into you, your juices providing more than enough lubrication for him to glide in. the wave of your hips—rolling against his hand—became more sharp in movement, more desperate to get all of him.

“you’re so wet already,” he mumbled into your ear, sinking his finger to the hilt. “and we’ve barely just gotten started.” he added another finger—his middle—into you. he pumped his digits slowly first to stretch you out, curling the tips to stroke your walls. you moaned into his neck, his fingers increasing in pace.

“you have to be quiet for me or we’ll be in huge trouble,” mingyu ran his free hand up your neck to your lips, swiping the spit off your lips and jutting a thumb between your soft appendages. “but i’m sure you’d like that, won’t you?”

you took a moment to quirk your lips up in a smirk, trapping his thumb between your teeth, silently telling him that oh yes you’d like that very much.

“dirty slut,” he growled in your ear. “always so tight,” his fingers formed a ‘v’ shape in your inner walls for a brief second before returning to thrusting in and out of you.

soon enough a release tugged at the base of your spine. your core clenched around his digits as a mild rush of euphoria began to approach. sensing it through the increased tightness around his fingers and the excess slick that ran down your inner thighs, mingyu retracted his fingers.

a quiet whine left your lips from the orgasm that had been ripped off from you. you rocked your hips upwards in hopes that he would do something about it until he tut, shaking his head.

“patience is a virtue, my love.”

#kwritersworldnet #seventeen #mingyu #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagines #mingyu drabbles #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen requests #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

Text

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 3

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 2682

WARNINGS: blood, fluffy fluff starts picking up

PREVIOUS NEXT MASTERLIST

The few hours of sleep he was able to achieve were filled with nightmares that consisted of his memories returning. His life played out behind his eyelids charging his sadness, terror and his fury. Yet before his mind could plummet to unreachable depths, he sensed a calming presence in the back of his mind. A hand that reached out for him to hold onto. He had no idea that during his rest he became quite vocal and Y/N stood in his doorway using the force to ease him back into a relaxed state. Pulling him further away from the unseen dangers that threatened to pull him down and drown him.

He woke with a start, not remembering where he was. His first thought was why it didn’t smell like fire and burning fuels mixed with humid gasses. When he felt his legs shift under the blankets the events that took place yesterday flooded back to the forefront of his memory. He smelled the sweet sugary aroma of a plate towering with baked apples and honeyed meat sitting on his night stand but before he indulged his groaning stomach, movement from outside the window caught his eye. It was his savior.

Not covered in the same make of dress she wore yesterday. Today she adorned a fitted white cloth binding across her chest and beige trousers that bagged around her thighs but were tight just below her knees. Barefooted, she dual wielded white lightsabers in the Ataru style. Dodging quickly and lunging aggressively toward an invisible attacker. Gracefully she connected the two sabers so they appeared to be a single double sided weapon. Twirling them so quickly and dancing on her feet so lightly his eyes had trouble keeping up. She was working through forms he both recognized and ones he had never seen before. He could see a light glimmer of sweat slicked across her form catching in the early morning sunlight. She must have been training for hours already. Strands of hair falling out of the bun she had tied up to keep the majority of her locks out of her eyeline.

He took and ate the breakfast she prepared slowly, studying her through the glass with admiration. Obviously satisfied with her efforts she hung her now sheathed sabers from the gate and tended the goats and chickens within the pen. Despite her hostile training they were calm and trotted up to her as she passed through the gate. He watched her feed the animals and her mouth form words he couldn't hear, assuming they were praises as they danced around her.

~~~~~

The next two weeks were more of the same every day. You meditated and trained in the mornings before tending to your animals. You knew his eyes were on you while he ate the food you always left for him, always watching. You feigned ignorance and never mentioned that you caught him staring, surprising yourself with the fact that you kind of liked the attention. When you had finished your morning routine you would find him dressed in his room practicing the basic movements and exercises you assigned to him for his physical therapy. Satisfied he was actually doing them you would go shower and dressing in your usual slitted dresses that you preferred.

You would eat again together and continue helping him work his legs. After the first few days he joined you in your afternoon meditation followed by more exercises or flipping through one of your many books, light music always on in the background. The longer he was in your care the softer his eyes looked, the stronger his legs got and he came to be more comfortable in your proximity. You had both gotten used to one another's company. You had spent so much time alone on this planet you had forgotten what it was like to have a companion. A rather agreeable one at that. It was nice.

~~~~~

Now able to walk on his own with only the help from a cane he joined Y/N outside every morning. Still unable to train as she did, he practiced walking around the pen surrounded by the animals. He could see a smile grace her lips when he interacted gently with them. When she had finished, she strode over to him leaning up against the fence with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed.

"What is it?" He asked, honey eyes filled with concern that he had upset her somehow. He tended to revert back to the frightened apprentice she realized he had been at one point in his life if she wasn’t careful. Despite the fact that he had never one been the cause of even a slight frustration within her.

"I have to leave for a day or two, stock up on some things this planet doesn't have. I need you to stay here, I fear a storm is coming and I don't want to leave the animals unattended. Would you be alright with that?”

Sighing with relief he agreed and watched as she boarded her ship and took off.

The next day after she had left, he must have looked up to the sky every hour impatiently waiting for her to return. He ate much less without her, swearing to himself that it didn't taste as good if it didn't come from her hands. He did however keep up with his exercises and spent much of his free time with the goats and chickens. That night he had even more trouble falling asleep than he usually did; missing her company. After tossing and turning until daybreak he made a daring move, striding toward Y/N's room without his cane for the first time.

He had never been inside of it but he had caught glances after noticing she had been sleeping with her door open, starting a few days after his arrival. Sheer white curtains hung in front of the transparasteel panes that overlooked the garden. Like the rest of the house, not a single chronometer in sight. The need to keep time didn't really exist in this place, he enjoyed that small detail over the past few weeks. It was starkly different from how he was raised, every moment of every day planned down to the second. Even a slight deviation always resulting with a beating. He had to keep reminding himself that she was not his master. When he did forget she would always lend a kind reminder she was master of nothing and no one.

The pine-colored rug under foot was exceptionally plush and extended across most of the floor, the polished dark wooden flooring peeking out only around the edges of the room. A long desk was situated beneath the large viewport. Atop it lay several data-tapes and empty books. She must be copying the information by hand he assessed. Actual paper writing was extremely rare and her home was filled with paper sheeted books bound in various leathers. One of the books sat open with a pen resting on it, the entry was short but he loved seeing her handwriting nonetheless. Without lifting the journal, he stood and read the page entry, curiosity getting the better of him.

Maul- Day 17:

‘He is recovering faster than I had originally anticipated but I am also not surprised. He has to be strong to have survived as long as he did on his own in the condition he came to me in. Already walking on his own supported only by a cane by day 10. He is gaining weight slowly but is starting to look healthier. He will snap back quickly once he can walk on his own again, unaided by a crutch. His eyes aren’t nearly as blood shot and the lighter shade of color in his horns and nails indicates he is getting proper nutrients and that his hormones have balanced out.

His mind seems to be healing as well, I haven't asked about his memories but I know they come in the form of nightmares. He responds well to my attempts to calm him in his sleep. They still come every night but he has gone from an excessive number of fits to only two or three a night. He is still wildly unbalanced but the scale is starting to tip in the right direction. I have come to realize that I enjoy his presence. He seems to be more comfortable with small talk. I like his voice, alas my mind wanders.’

Maul hobbled over to her bed and hesitantly laid down on top of it not daring to mess up the bedding too much. Several realizations crossing his mind. One, she had actually come to care for him as he was starting to care for her. Two, he learned why she slept with her door open now. His hearts raced at the thought of her standing in his doorway calming him while he slept. Three, she liked his voice. He had always been scolded if he spoke unnecessarily, taught to be silent as shadows. But she liked his voice. He could smell her on her pillows, a sweet earthy scent that lingered in his nose. Very quickly sleep took him.

He awoke that evening as the sun was starting to set to the sound of thunder ripping through the sky. His belly growled, he had grown accustomed to several meals a day and his hunger had caught up to him. Being sure to straighten out the blankets on her bed he stood and made his way to the kitchen. Opening the cooler for the first time, he found a plate with a large cooked steak and a note.

‘You had better eat this before I return. You have to eat even if I'm not there. -Y/N’

He smiled at her sentiment. As usual with everything she made, it was like ambrosia in his mouth. The moment he finished eating he sensed the animals were distressed. Not bringing his cane he made his way slowly outside to the barn. The rain came down almost violently, lightning streaking across the now black sky while thunder crashed angrily.

He was soaking wet by the time he got inside to check the animals who were immediately calmed when they saw him. Sighing he sat in the middle of the floor and began his meditation to stave away his and their anxiety of the storm. He had hoped she wasn't flying in this but she was already away longer than she said she'd be. That didn't help the knot of worry growing in his belly.

~~~~~

When you came out of hyperspace and entered the atmosphere you realized you must have put the coordinates in a digit off. You were on the wrong side of the planet, jungle stretched out as far as you could see. This wouldn’t be the first time you had accidently come home in the wrong hemisphere. You sighed at your own antics. It was too dangerous to fly back out to space so you had to navigate through the storm down here. Your ship seemed to attract the lightning but you managed to sense it a split second before it struck, narrowly dodging the persistent bolts. Before long you could just make out the break that gave way to the grasslands. You started lowering out of the sky but were distracted to see Maul coming out of the barn. It was just a moment of distraction but an important moment, you didn't sense the lightning. You were struck and it killed the power sending you nose first straight into the soil with a loud crash. Your vision blacked out after hitting your head on impact knocking you unconscious.

~~~~~

No...NO... fuck.

Maul watched as the bolt hit her ship and she crashed out in the field. Eyes wide with panic he ran as fast as his new legs would carry, almost giving out several times before he reached the fallen ship. He raised his arms, using the force for the first time in weeks he opened the door and lowering the ramp. It didn't reach the ground due to the crafts hazardous angle. Force jumping inside he landed on his feet with a shocking pain that radiated through his torso. Snarling he made his way to the cockpit where he found her starting to wake up.

~~~~~

You felt strong hands on your arms gently squeezing, you sighed into the touch rubbing your head and your eyes. When they finally opened the first thing you saw were two brightly glowing golden orbs. Rubbing your eyes again, your vision fully returning, you realized they belonged to a very worried looking Zabrack. Who was covered in...straw?

Remembering what distracted you in the first place you burst into laughter. Hard, rolling laughter.

The worry on his face shifted into confusion. He slowly wiped the blood off your temple from where you hit your head. Then he lifted you bridal style and started walking out of the ship. Finding a new reserve of strength and determination he carried you all the way to your home. Although you stopped laughing you still giggled, picking pieces of straw off the back of his tunic. Finally realizing what you found so amusing he smiled, "the storm scared the goats so I meditated with them. I ended up falling asleep out there."

He now stood in the living room, still in his arms you replied, "I kind figured as much." You pressed your forehead to his for a moment, butterflies dancing in both of your stomachs. He set you down on the couch slowly and fetched a cool wet cloth. Tenderly, he dabbed at the cut. You watched him closely, a slight blush fanning across your cheeks. He was so soft, so careful in this moment, so near you, a stark comparison to the man who had first landed in your field not long ago.

He heard your heartbeat quicken and saw your blush, causing his face to deepen slightly along with yours. Quickly he stood, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck looking anywhere but at you. "I think you'll be alright," he stammered. "It's just a shallow laceration."

You also stood, inches from him. He was taller than you were, not by much, but it was noticeable when you were this close to his body. "I could've told you that but noooo you had to cast aside your cane and come to the rescue... Thank you." You batted your long eyelashes at him and he gulped, gaze not leaving your own this time.

"I have a present for you."

"You do?" He asked now distracted from your devilishly plump lips.

"Yeah, quick stop on Naboo, few broken necks, spines and bribes later aaaaaaand.." you reached behind your back unclipping a third lightsaber from your belt. Still rough where it had been sliced in half you presented it to him. "Tada!"

"You did this for me?" He asked slowly taking it in his hands. It seemed.. heavier than he remembered. But it was his.

"Yes I did,” you stated matter-o-factly. Now that your obviously strong enough not only to walk but to carry me across the field, like the damsel in distress that I was, covered in straw no less. We will start training together. But for now, I'm exhausted. It's the middle of the night and I've had a maker damned day." You took a chance and leaned up into him, pressing your lips against his cheekbone with your hands on his chest, holding them there for a few seconds you felt him go ridged.

Turning on the ball of your foot you wandered back into your bedroom. "Goodnight Maul." You called without turning to see his reaction.

He held the place on his cheek where your kiss landed just before, mind reeling and melting at the same time. "Goodnight Y/N," he murmured. Not leaving his spot.

#maul fluff #darth maul #star wars maul #maul x reader #jedi knight #sith warrior #star wars #grey jedi #star wars fluff #starwars au #x reader #starwars x reader #jedi reader #reader insert

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lluvguts · 3 years

Text

sore eyes // boreo

pairing: adult theodore decker / boris pavlikovsky

genre + warning: some angst, swearing, implied sex

word count: 1778

summary: theo and boris have been hiding some things, and theo finally cracks

words in translation: Птица- the bird // Такой идиот - such an idiot

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A text message from Theo’s phone echoed, then resonated in the dark; the ceiling was haloed in the screen’s soft blue light moments before returning to black. Different sheets that held familiar smells. Theo reached out from under the blankets with a sleepy hand for his glasses and stopped cold.

Kitsey: Hey you! Still spending the night at Hobie’s? Wanna grab a bite to eat in the morning? I can swing by the shop :) xoxoxo ♡ ♡ ♡!!!

A rustle next to him. Theo set the phone back onto the hotel nightstand with a hollow clatter before Boris could turn over and inspect. The barely there tickle of his hair against Theo’s bare neck, a subdued breath from behind warming the still air. Boris extended a hand to pull Theo’s upturned shoulder back down into the sheets, murmuring nonsensical Polish—words that would have soothed Theo, in years prior, but now only made him lie unmoving around his touch. The refusal to accept; the wave of shifting light casting foreign shadows along the walls, an inky blue prelude to dawn. The city awakening, another night unfurling into the real world: leaving Theo unsure how to place his relationship with Boris among the daily trivialities of his own life. A piece that does not fit anywhere, no matter what age or chapter they decide to burst into. It simply would not work.

Theo knew Boris was not asleep—his undressed body was emanating delicious heat, closeness that made Theo flinch as he neared. With his back to the curtain he was bathed in shadow, accentuating his downturned jaw and angular form—all the more resemblant to Theo of a sculpted Hermes, or that of a Baroque painting: shaped hues of milk white and hushed blue contours that dipped into the crevices of his body, the brief suggestion of color, only a brushstroke of width, blooming under his sharp cheeks.

His hand the only thing touching him. It crept lower, a delicate dance of fingers across skin, towards his exposed abdomen until Theo flung out a hand in warning. Ironclad grip.

“Boris.”

But he only chortled out a tired laugh, his dark eyes open and one expressive brow furrowed.

“What? Are you still upset over your bird that you cannot enjoy? Let me touch you,” Boris ignored his request—along with the hand locked onto his wrist—and continued to tease with soft touches that drove him mad. Theo brushed Boris’s hand away and sat up.

“Stop. I can’t do this anymore.” Theo said and pulled the thin bedsheet over his middle.

“Cannot do what? Have fun? If this is about Птица, you know there are ways to get it back.”

Theo could not address the crippling shame he felt about the painting. The years of its guarded presence holding Theo afloat. Gone. “I can’t..I can’t keep hiding. It’s wrong. And technically, this is an affair.”

“Hah! Affair,” He spit out the word like it was poison to his lips, “As if snowflake would care. She sleeps with her love, why can you not with yours? Hmm?”

Theo did not reply. “We are adults, Potter. Grown men. She can do what she likes the same as we.” Boris went to the nightstand on his side—Theo’s heart sped at the curve of his taut skin, how his bare hands had felt every scar, caressed each shoulder blade, trailed a finger in unadulterated bliss down the dip in his lower back—his toned muscles twisting as he reached for a cigarette. The days spent craving his body against his own, how desperately Theo missed it during the daytime: a fact he couldn’t face in the present moment, not with him so close, his lips soft even in a sneer.

“You make this sound like it’s an acceptable thing.”

“What has it been these past ten years then? Vegas? Was that something you forgot?” Boris spoke around the cigarette, his voice icy and holding every drop of contempt for the lost time they spent emerging into adults—the things left unspoken finally dusted off and frowned upon.

“Like how you forgot to reach out to me all this time.” Theo said bitterly

“Pfft. Is different thing. Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. It is directly connected and you know it.” Theo crossed his arms.

“Is directly connected,” Boris rolled his eyes and mimicked him.

“So what then?” Theo asked over Boris’s imitation, his voice growing louder, “Why come all the way out here? Why stay? You could have left the second you saw me in that pub. An easy way out, really. With the painting lost forever and all.” Theo felt the anger rise from where it had been sitting vacant all these years; he had no issue with the bite behind his words, or what it might do to their secret nights spent together. Kitsey might be happier with Cable but it didn’t matter to Theo: he couldn’t live with the shame it would cause if the Barbours found out about Boris, or Hobie. Having to come clean.

Boris leaned up against the headboard—completely bare and unashamed in the fact—to point a finger at Theo. “I stayed for you. Hah! I even took painting for you. If not, would have no reason to be back. Would never see you again.”

Theo let out a mirthless laugh. To conceal the knot of worry threading its way into his mind. “That’s your excuse? To ‘see me?’ We were childish and stupid in Vegas. Apparently nothing’s changed.”

“Fuck you.” Boris stamped out the cigarette and rose from the bed, facing the curtained window and allowing Theo to gaze with confliction at his back. His dense set of black curls magnified in the filtered sunrise. “Thinking I can come back, we can be together, like this. With no worry. Такой идиот.” He muttered to himself.

But he heard him. Theo crawled across the bed and took Boris’s forearm to spin him back. “What did you expect Boris? You can show up in my life, let us have a few good fucks and think everything’s alright? The same?” He had a pained expression flash across his face, his eyes once bright but were now shaded with emptiness at the brief moments he had hope.

“Of course not,” Boris said quickly, but Theo knew that fallen face, even now he did a poor job at hiding what he was feeling, “I came here on business trip. And found you! Was fate that brought us together. Don’t you see it, Theo? And now is fate asking us to be here.”

“Fuck fate, Boris. You can’t just expect me to drop everything and go. Hell, even be sleeping with you. I’m engaged to be married, you have a wife—or was that a lie too? I practically own the shop, I can’t just up and leave Hobie like that. I have a life here.” Theo ignored the ache in his stomach remembering the sight of Boris, after ten years, finally seeing him. The joy that overcame him, the memory of how it made the fierce wind that afternoon not as harsh; his tired eyes had lightened when his arms found his shoulders, small mannerisms never forgotten.

“You expected me to drop everything, that day. In Vegas I had a life, and still you wanted me to go with you. What is so different now?” Boris wiped his face with a rough hand and glared at Theo. His black eyes glittered with hidden emotion: regret for what could have happened, their future dangling by a what-if.

“I told you. I just can’t. I can’t have sex with you anymore. Not like this. It’s wrong on so many levels—I have a fiancé, whether or not I love her. I still have ties. And I am in no way flying across the continent on some drug heist for you. It’s not my fault that you lost the fucking painting.”

Boris sighed. His face undeniably hurt. “So harsh, Potter. I do not know what time has done to change you, but maybe you do not mean things you say.” His smile was only a quirk of his lips, not reaching his eyes. Empty.

“And now, as I think. If not for your little bird, maybe we would have never met again. Last goodbye under that street lamp.” Boris continued, his face hollow. Theo didn’t like where this was going—the broken look in Boris’s eyes as he bent to pick up his clothes strewn across the carpet.

“Where are you going?” Theo asked with bated breath as he watched Boris button his pants, his overcoat, shirt.

Boris, who could never keep his mouth shut. Left without a word.

If only Boris could see, Theo thought, he was doing this for their own good. Because really, what else was there to do? Theo wasn’t chained to Boris, and neither was he. They were adults. They had lives to live—regardless of their love, the ardent connection that stemmed from boyhood, no matter how many times they tried to make it work.

This wasn’t a relationship. Theo had to tell himself compulsively as he gathered his own clothes off the floor and left Boris’s hotel room. To meet Kitsey, to pretend he was at the shop. That everything was going as planned. But Theo started to wonder: was there any way to make things the way they should? Could there be one?

So that Theo could wake to Boris’s sleeping shape in the morning, the face he loved, rather than Kitsey’s? Go their separate ways, different relationships, yet remain on parallel paths: could Theo ever imagine introducing Mrs. Barbour to Boris, while Kitsey stayed with Tom? Would she smile in the same tender, personal way that she often did when Theo was in the room?

Theo knew he had it all wrong. He was afraid of losing Boris; the shame that resided deep in his bones was only at himself—surfacing words: coward. Trapped. Isolated. Stuck in an engagement meant only for the bettering of others. Not what he wanted.

Stay. We can make it work.

A dull, festering throb started at the base of his chest, worming its way to his heart. Clung to the back of his throat. Skull pounding a new kind of headache down the busy streets, searching with sore eyes for a familiar overcoat, thick black hair blowing in the wind. His life raft out of the choppy future he was forced to drown in.

Last goodbye under that streetlamp.

Theo: Boris. Call me.

#fanfic #boreo #boreo fanfic #angst #boreo angst #the goldfinch #tgf #the goldfinch fanfiction #adult theo and boris #fanfiction #m/m romance #i miss this fandom so much where is my tribe

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