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drabblesofrapture · 3 years

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The Empress’s Pawn (Superhero AU)

Hey kiddos, been awhile since we’ve posted. Anyway have yet another scene from our superhero au lol. -Mod Dusty

CW: prison setting, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, manipulation, betrayal

The hallway seemed to stretch out infinitely before Roxanne. From above her came the constant buzz from the harshly glowing lights, a sound that invaded each thought that raced through her mind. Off-white brick walls stared down at her from either side, occasionally interrupted by doors or another hallway branching off from this one. The numerous branching paths made the whole place seem like a maze; a design choice intentionally made to confuse any possible intruders or escapees, making it easy for them to become lost and later captured by the guard patrol. While Jeff’s facility overall was very impressive, the prison block where Roxanne now found herself in had to be her least favorite place within its walls.

The thud of her boots echoed loudly down the corridor as she walked, her cape billowing behind her. One arm clutched a folder full of documents tightly to her chest while the other was raised to her face to wipe a bit of sweat away from around the edges of her mask. It felt rather silly to have to wear her suit around the facility, especially when it caused her inconveniences; such as her cape becoming caught in doors or getting snagged on various things. In hindsight, maybe the cape wasn’t a great idea for her new hero persona. Wardrobe malfunctions aside, bearing with it was far better than risking the exposure of her identity.

She kept her pace quick, her footsteps keeping a steady beat. Her gaze was locked dead ahead of her, not even giving a second glance to the few guards and staff members whom she passed along the way. Their waves and friendly greetings went unexpectedly unanswered, leading to many raised eyebrows and double takes. She stopped for nothing. Two guards stood in the middle of the hallway casually talking to each other and she briskly stepped around them without missing a beat. No hellos, no wishing anyone a wonderful day, she just kept walking. She had places to be today.

After a series of twists and turns down the labyrinthine complex of corridors and a lengthy security checkpoint, Roxanne eventually came before a huge steel door with a sign above it which read “MAXIMUM SECURITY CELL BLOCK.” On either side of the door were guards carrying heavy assault rifles and dressed in high-tech suits of armor; armor modeled directly after the former Hero Killer’s suit. They both snapped to attention as she approached, most likely former henchmen of her father. She simply held up a hand to put them at ease and pulled out her keycard to insert in the reader on the door’s right side. A pneumatic hiss emitted from the door as it suddenly lurched open an inch before slowly sliding the rest of the way open. She waited for the door to open completely and for the guards to give her the go-ahead before she finally stepped through.

The cell block was a long hall with a high, arched ceiling. The walls were lined with -you guessed it- cells! In lieu of the traditional metal bars, the cell doors were made of reinforced plexiglass, allowing the villains imprisoned within to be fully visible to the guards. Many of the prisoners leered at Roxanne as she passed, getting right up against the glass and making obscene gestures at her and shouting their usual empty threats.

Like everyone else, she completely ignored them. Occasionally she’d shoot them the cold glare her father had taught her -that would usually shut them up immediately- but not today. She kept walking until she reached the end of the hall where she came before another large steel door. This door was much bigger and thicker than the first door, resembling that of a vault door. Six guards stood in front of this door, all wearing the same high tech armor as the guards at the entrance to the cell block. However, these guards had been outfitted with advanced rifles specially designed for super powered individuals, all sporting the trademark Collinsworth logo. As Roxanne approached, all six guards moved to block her path.

The first guard held out his hand towards her. “You’re not authorized past this point, Ms. Witch.”

“Dude, it’s Mrs. Witch now!” another guard corrected. “Didn’t you know she got married to that Angel guy recently?”

“Gary, what have I said about your mouth and keeping it shut?” The first guard scolded, turning around to shoot what Roxanne assumed to be a scathing look at his comrade. She couldn’t really tell because of the helmets.

Gary cast his gaze at the floor and let his arms hang dejectedly at his sides. The guard next to him patted his shoulder consolingly.

“Like I said, you can’t be here.”

Roxanne stared indifferently at him as she fished around in the folder she was holding. With a flourish, she pulled a document out of it and presented it to the guard standing before her. “I am here to interrogate the prisoner on authorization of my father, the King.” she stated in a professional tone.

The guard snatched the document away from her. He clicked the visor on his helmet open so he could scrutinize the document more clearly, eyes landing on the King’s forged signature at the bottom.

“Alright,” he said, closing his visor and handing the document back to Roxanne. “It checks out, head on in. Just be careful in there kid.”

The guard motioned to the guard closest to the door who proceeded to input a code on the keypad next to it. A red light above the door began to flash and there was a loud buzz, followed by the sound of metal sliding against metal as several huge locks were unlocked. The latch was undone next, and the door slowly slid open in a dramatic fashion. Roxanne waited until the door was fully open before going in, but even then she found herself hesitating. Her hands tightened into fists, crushing the cardboard folder underneath her fingertips. Mustering her courage, she took a deep breath and marched through the doorway. Once she was in, she tried not to jump when she heard the door slam shut behind her and all the locks clicked back into place. She was alone now.

The room was essentially a concrete cube, where in the center stood another cube made of glass tinted so heavily that it could not be seen through. There were cameras in every corner of the room, all pointed at the glass cube in the center. The cube had a control console on the side facing the door. Steeling herself with another deep breath, Roxanne strode toward the console, setting the crumpled folder on the dash. She pressed a button on the console which caused the tint of the glass to lighten until it was once again transparent. The glass cube was actually another cell. Inside was a cot, a toilet, a sink complete with a vanity, a small desk with a chair, and a bookshelf. A tall, slim woman sat hunched over on the cot, her face obscured by her long, blonde hair, now matted and ratty by weeks of improper care. Pale blue eyes stared up at Roxanne through tangled strands. Chapped lips pulled back into a sinisterly sweet smile.

“Hello darling,” she cooed. “Come to pay your dear old auntie a visit?”

“Adelaide,” Roxanne said bluntly. “You’re looking well.”

Adelaide just hummed, clutching a split end between her thumb and forefinger and holding it up to eye level before letting it fall limply across her chest. “I’ve looked better. The conditions of this place are absolutely dreadful.”

“Not up to your ostentatiously high standards, hm?” Roxanne asked, tilting her head to the side.

“No, not at all,” Adelaide replied, scowling at the hero. She suddenly stood up from her cot and strode over to the vanity at the end of her cell, studying the reflection of herself and Roxanne in the mirror. “My offer is still open, you know. If you can break me out of this place, that is.”

“Oh? You mean the offer to sell my life away to you as your servant for eternity?”

“Oh darling, must you always think so little of me,” Adelaide sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She turned around and began walking to the window. “The offer to rule Rapture by my side.” Her smile widened and she clenched her fist, shaking it as she spoke. “I’ve taught you so well that the two of us working together would be unstoppable! Think of what you could do with that power! Your friends have made powerful enemies, you could make sure those malefactors never harm them ever again.”

Roxanne was silent for a moment. Adelaide’s smug grin strengthened as she saw the gears turning in the girl’s head. However, a smile began to spread across Roxanne’s face and she raised a hand to her mouth as she started giggling. She soon lost control and was doubled over laughing, both arms holding her stomach as she struggled to regain composure. Adelaide’s nostrils flared as the sneer dropped from her face, her eye twitching slightly at the pure disrespect being thrown at her.

“You must be joking auntie!” Roxanne managed to squeak out as she wiped a tear from her eye, a couple more giggles escaping her lips. “I remember how inspired I used to get whenever you gave me those grand speeches. Pandering to all my hopes and dreams, manipulating me. It’s quite amusing how easily I used to fall for that.”

“I haven’t the slightest clue of what you mean darling,” Adelaide said, feigning ignorance.

“Sure.” Roxanne turned away from her, crossing her arms and peering at her from over her shoulder. “That’s all you do: manipulate others.You promise them fantastic things so long as they can do something for you, and once their purpose has been used up, you cast them aside.” She turned her back on her completely now. “There’s not a single person in your life that you haven’t done it to. The heroes you face, your henchmen, father-” she threw a piercing gaze at Adelaide “-even me.”

“Well…” Adelaide paused for a moment, raising a hand to her chin. She let out a short sigh. “Yes, I have manipulated others. How else do you think all my henchmen have remained so loyal to me?”

“Well, most of them,” Roxanne interrupted with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, most of them.”

“The point is,” Adelaide continued, “manipulation is the only way I’ve managed to survive all these years by myself. It’s the only way you can get anywhere in this ugly world; someone very close to me taught me that a long time ago.” She moved closer to the glass, gently pressing her hand against it. Her other hand brushed the hair away from her face to show Roxanne her caring expression. “But I would never do such an awful thing to you.”

Roxanne raised an eyebrow at her, turning again so that she was once again facing her. “I have only ever wanted to protect you from all the cruelness that runs rampant in the world. I took you under my wing, I taught you how to control your powers and furthermore how to use them. I taught you everything I know so that the things that happened to me will never happen to you.” Their eyes locked. “Do you know why I did all that, darling? Do you know why I want to protect you?”

The girl moved closer to the glass as well. “Why?”

“Because we’re the same,” Adelaide said, smiling sweetly at her. “Both of us were betrayed by someone close to us and then abandoned. Your own mother left you to waste away in that orphanage, much like how my husband left me to rot in a ditch.” She tilted her head. “I’ve always loved you Roxanne, you’re like a daughter to me.”

There was a long pause between the two. Roxanne stood there, her expression unreadable for a moment. Slowly, she raised her hand to the glass, placing it exactly where Adelaide’s was. There was a lump in her throat, and her lip began to tremble as her eyes started to well up with tears. Her whole arm tensed like she was struggling to hold herself up. Adelaide had to hide her smugness as she watched the poor girl melt like putty in her hands.

“Is that so?” Roxanne seethed, her brow furrowing. She pushed herself away from the glass, taking a step back from the cell. She breathed in, swallowing the lump in her throat. She tilted her head down and gave Adelaide a furious, yet determined glare. “Is that why you threatened to kill me if my father did not comply with your wishes? Is that what you call love?”

Adelaide looked as if she had just been struck in the face. Her eyes wide and her mouth agape as her hand limply fell away from the glass. She took a step back in shock. “I-”

“That’s right, father told me all about your little game,” she said. “You probably used me as leverage against Angel as well, hm?”

“Darling-”

“You never really cared about me, did you auntie?” she continued, cutting her off. She had waited so long for this moment; all the anger, all the hurt, all the betrayal coming to a boiling point inside of her. She wouldn’t let herself be interrupted now, she would get this out in the open right now. “You didn’t teach me how to hone my powers so that I could protect myself, you just wanted to weaponize me. You thought that since we have the same powers, then we’d have the same weaknesses as well; weaknesses that you planned to exploit should the need arise.” Her shoulders started to relax, focusing all the anger in her body into her voice, making every word drip with venom. “That’s not love. You never loved me.” She crossed her arms, glaring straight into the villain’s soul. “All these years, I was just another pawn to you, is that right?”

Adelaide’s jaw was practically touching the floor now. Her already pale skin seemed to become whiter still and she took another step back. She brought her hand to her mouth to close it and kept it there for a beat. She closed her eyes, and her countenance suddenly began to change. A smile grew across her face as a malicious laugh began to rise up from her chest. Her eyes shot back up to Roxanne, fixing her with an icy stare.

“Oh darling… of course you were.” The facade was gone now, her true evil beginning to shine forth. She strode back to the glass window, hips swaying from side to side. “Of course you were!” she laughed. “You really thought I ever gave a damn about an insignificant little mortal cur like you? You were always a means to an end for me.” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “Although, originally the plan was for you to help me take over Rapture. Unfortunately, that idiot Malcolm had to get involved so I had to change the plan; change your purpose.”

Roxanne was completely taken aback. She had already found out that these had been Adelaide’s true intentions, she just didn’t think that she would be so upfront about it. Perhaps there was even a part of her that wanted to still believe that Adelaide truly cared for her, that even treating her as a tool was just another facade.

“I’d say that I’m surprised that it took you this long to find out, but I’m not really. You always were a naive little girl,” Adelaide scoffed, placing her hands on her hips and shifting her weight into one leg. “No matter how hard I tried, I never could train the stupidity out of you.”

The girl flinched as Adelaide threw her head back, letting loose another maniacal laugh. “Honestly, you’re almost as dumb as that little devil girl! All your moronic blabbering over the years, rambling about how you and your ‘daddy’ are going to change the world! And now you run around with your little boy-toy playing hero like a couple of children!”

“He is not my boy-toy,” Roxanne snapped.

Another laugh. “Oh that’s right! He’s your husband now, isn’t he? Honestly darling, you could do so much better.” She chuckled, waving a hand at Roxanne as she started walking the perimeter of the cell. “At least he’s smarter than you, he knew better than to meddle in my affairs.”

She finished her lap of the cell while Roxanne sat in stunned silence, finally coming to a stop in front of her once more. “That’s all besides the point though. You’ll never be able to change the world, no matter who you pair yourself with and especially not by yourself. You’re not a hero, you’re nothing.”

Roxanne could’ve sworn that her heart stopped beating. She couldn’t feel it, she couldn’t feel anything right now. Her body just felt hollow, like her heart had just been completely scooped out and stomped on.

“You betrayed me,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.”

“Betrayed you?!” Adelaide guffawed. “Darling, betrayal only works if it’s by someone you love.”

“...I did love you,” Roxanne sniffed, looking down at the cold, concrete floor. “Or at least I thought I did, and I thought you did too…”

“That was your own mistake,” Adelaide snorted derisively. She crossed her arms behind her back and began to pace. “You want to know what I always hated most about you?”

The lump was back, throbbing up inside Roxanne’s throat.

“The way you insisted on calling me auntie,” She shivered, her face scrunching up in disgust. “That always made my skin crawl. And to think that I even said you were like a daughter to me just a couple minutes ago.” Her index finger stuck out to point at her open mouth as she mocked a gagging noise. “It was so difficult to make that sound convincing. You’re just so desperate for a family, aren’t you? I suppose it makes sense, a little runt like you being abandoned at birth.”

She couldn’t swallow the lump, it was too big. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Hold it in, she had to hold it in.

“That’s why you cling to Malcolm so tightly, calling him ‘daddy’ and father. Well let me tell you something.” She walked over to the glass wall again, pressing her body against it. “I am not your auntie, and Malcolm is not your father; he never was, and he never will be.”

She bit down harder. Her lip was bleeding now. Don’t cry, please don’t cry. Not now, not in front of her. Please-

“You’re more of a pet to him really,” Adelaide went on. “A pet to him and a tool to me. That’s all you’ve ever been. And now I assume you’ll continue your sick little found family fantasy with that boy-toy of yours too, hm?” A vicious sneer was painted on her face as she watched the little girl trembling before her slowly break down.

Roxane sniffed a couple times, letting out a long, shaky exhale.

“Awww, did I hurt your feelings, darling,” she purred maliciously.

“No,” she replied after a long pause. It was a lie, but she wasn’t going to let Adelaide have the last laugh in this. “I’m just sad that you’ve become such a bitter old woman.”

Immediately, her countenance became twisted with rage. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Roxanne said, managing to fake a soft, derisive laugh. “You never got your happily ever after. You thought you were at the top of the world, that you could rule everything, but now the mighty Empress has been defeated.” She forced a cocky grin. “You had a husband, a family, but you lost it all. You’re mad that I have everything that you never had.” She took a few steps towards the cell, leaning in to make eye contact with the now infuriated villain. “He left you to rot in a ditch, and now I -the only person who has ever cared for you- will leave you to rot in this cell.”

Adelaide’s brow furrowed, pale blue eyes flaring with rage. “You little-”

“I’ve come up with a new name for you too, something far better than auntie,” she added. “I quite like the ring of ‘miserable old hag,’ don’t you?” She let out a small giggle. “Goodbye, darling.”

Adelaide opened her mouth to scream at Roxanne, but she quickly slapped the button on the console to shut the intercom off. She then quickly slammed her fist on the other button, causing the glass to darken until Adelaide was no longer visible through it. She was alone again, alone in this big, empty room.

She stood there for a few moments, hand still resting on the console. The taste of blood coming from her lip finally hit her, causing her to slowly raise a hand to her mouth to wipe it away. Adelaide’s words came back to her, echoing loudly in her mind, invading every corner of her head. It pounded in her ears until she couldn’t take it. The lump came back once more and she tried to bite her lip again to hold it back but quickly had to let go, wincing from the pain. There was no holding it back now. Despair spread to every space in her body, filling her with a cold and empty feeling. It sapped her strength completely, causing her to double over and her legs to buckle underneath the weight of her body and sorrow. She fell to her knees as heavy, violent sobs wracked her frame. Tears streamed freely down her face like rivers, smearing the eyeshadow she used to fill in the empty spaces between her eyes and mask. She buried her face in her hands as she tried in vain to muffled her wails. Her body leaned against the console, trying to keep herself from falling to the floor.

She was so lost in her own sorrow that she didn’t even notice when the door opened behind her so that the guards could check on them. Their inquiries on what had happened didn’t even register in her mind. She barely even recognized Malcolm and Johnathan when they eventually arrived to escort her from the cell, continuing to cry the entire way.

#Mod Dusty #Dusty's writing #dusty's charas #vicey's charas #Superhero AU #Rapture Roxanne #Rapture Adelaide #whump #idk if this counts as whump but here we go #emotional whump maybe?#dont hurt me I dont write whump asdjflasljg #emotional whump

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cake-writes · 5 years

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Friday Nights

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Alcohol Use, Drug Mention, 18+

Word Count: 8.5k

Summary: The air was a little thick, a little strange in that cold, abandoned warehouse where the two of you went for your mission. Maybe you breathed in something you shouldn’t have. Maybe Steve did, too. Neither of you cared.

Written for an anonymous request.

It wasn’t unusual. At first.

You’d just strapped yourself securely into the seat next to Steve in the cockpit of the Quinjet. He was already flipping switches and buttons to prepare for take-off, and he didn’t even spare a glance when your hand brushed against his knee to activate the thrusters.

It was incredibly common, actually, because the two of you often got sent out on quick in-and-out missions. While others were certainly more lethal, you were the fastest of anyone, and quick missions like this were your specialty. Paired with Steve’s enhanced abilities, the two of you made a good team.

When you reached altitude, it started slow, like a gentle buzz in your toes and fingertips. You blamed it on the turbulence, the way the rough winds made your small plane shudder and quake in the sky. It was kind of like riding a motorcycle, with your body absorbing the vibrations.

Over about fifteen minutes of you being absorbed in a novel and Steve fiddling with the controls every so often, the feeling slowly morphed to a rush of heat through your body. You blamed that on the Quinjet’s always-faulty temperature regulation system. Your combat gear was thick, so you unbuckled your seatbelt to go change into something more comfortable. You and Steve were on your way back home, now, so it wasn’t like you needed the uniform anymore.

That wasn’t unusual, either. You often changed on the way back because you liked a night out on the town afterwards to burn off some work stress and excess adrenaline. Sam, your best friend, was the same, and the two of you went out a couple times a week. He didn’t drink like you did, though – he, like a normal person, drank just to have a good time with friends. Having been a counsellor at the VA for a couple of years, he knew that alcohol was your vice, and he looked out for you. You only spilled your troubles to him after you had a few shots, never before.

When you and Sam were paired up together for a mission, the two of you were absolutely ridiculous on the return trip. You always brought along a couple of different skimpy outfits, and he always offered some stupid, obnoxious feedback about them at the expense of everyone else having to listen. You modelled and posed, and when it was his turn, he did it too and your feedback was even less work appropriate. He’d been your best friend for years. Kind of drove everyone else nuts, if they were being honest. That was the exact reason why you were rarely assigned together.

It was a shame, really, because you and Sam got on so well – but at the same time, it gave you more opportunities to work with Steve. You certainly didn’t mind that, because he was stupidly attractive and you loved any extra time you got to spend with him.

As you got to your feet, your thigh brushed against Steve’s leather-gloved hand on the thruster and, this time, his eyes immediately shot up to you. Not that you noticed, because you were too busy fussing with your weapons belt.

Your body was hot. You didn’t even fully leave the cockpit before you started stripping. It was innocent enough: you just wanted to rid yourself of your belt, heavy Kevlar vest, and the long-sleeved tac shirt underneath. You still had on a tank top and sports bra, and it wasn’t like Steve hadn’t seen any of it before. You’d gone on missions together in hotter places. Mexico. Morocco. Indonesia.

The belt came off with a single click, and you dropped it on the floor of the cockpit. The velcro on your vest ripped open easily and you swore at a buckle that always gave you trouble, before it finally slid open and you pulled the vest off, throwing it down on your seat. Then, as you pulled the long-sleeved shirt over your head, your dog tags caught on the fabric – and when they came loose, they jingled as they fell back against your cleavage.

Your eyes briefly fluttered shut for a moment at the sudden cold chill of the metal against hypersensitive skin. It felt good. A shaky breath escaped you from the feeling, one that didn’t go unnoticed.

When you turned around to place all of your discarded gear on the deck behind you, you caught Steve staring up at you in awe with those lovely baby blues like you were an absolute goddess.

For a second, you stilled at the sight of him. His forehead was damp with sweat, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, lips parted. He looked like he’d just run a marathon – or, because you weren’t in your right mind, like he’d just fucked the life out of someone. You’d certainly be a willing volunteer. It hadn’t been an exerting mission, though, but a simple one: collect some intel from an old, abandoned warehouse. You’d been in and out in less than twenty minutes and neither of you had broken a sweat until now.

You were going to kick Tony’s ass for not fixing that god damned temperature regulator.

Despite the sweltering heat, you gave him a cheeky grin. “Enjoy the show, Rogers?”

He huffed – literally, audibly huffed and turned back to the dark sky in front of him, focusing back on the control panel like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “You know it’s not like that.”

His petulant reaction made you smile. He was always so fun to tease.

“But Captain,” you purred, trailing a finger down the shoulder of his thick uniform. “You’re blushing.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw before he said your last name, once, with such command that it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “That’s enough.”

Yikes.

It was from pure instinct that your posture straightened, and you had to stop yourself before you instinctively brought your hand up to your brow to salute. Old habits die hard, and this was certainly one of them – especially when he used that authoritative tone you loved so much. In this particular moment, you loved it even more. You could already feel the sticky heat accumulating in your panties.

That wasn’t unusual, either, when Steve used that voice on you in such a casual setting. You had it bad for him.

“Yes sir,” you responded, not nearly as firmly as you meant it to sound, before you climbed out of the cockpit to pack up your gear and change.

He was touchy tonight. You weren’t going anywhere near that. No, you were going to the club.

It was always hilarious, the way you exited the Quinjet like this almost every Friday night. Smoky eyes, matte plum lips, and messy hair perfectly suited your little black dress and patent stilettos, but the bag slung over your shoulder wasn’t a cute purse like one would expect to see with such an outfit. Instead, it was a large, heavy duffel bag containing all of your gear and weapons. Even though it weighed about fifty pounds and was almost as big as you, you still carried it so easily despite the four-inch heels on your feet.

Steve trailed behind you carrying his own equipment, but the two of you hadn’t exchanged a single word since he’d snapped at you in the plane. You didn’t really care. You were planning to get drunk either way, and tonight, you were going to drink to forget about how fucking sexy it was when Steve gave you orders.

As you strode past the living room, heavy bag in tow, Sam’s wolf-whistle caught your attention and you popped your head in the doorway.

“Damn, baby girl,” he said with a grin, giving you an upwards nod. “Think I can get those digits?”

Sam wasn’t flirting, of course, and you snorted.

He was already dressed and ready to go to the club with you, wearing a puffer vest over a tight red t-shirt, a pair of loose jeans and his favourite timbs. On the couch, you spotted Bucky, who you knew wouldn’t be coming along – he never did. He gave you a quick once-over in greeting, amusement playing out on his features.

“Give me five,” you told Sam, gesturing to your duffel bag, before you nodded at Bucky. “Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, doll.”

Then you turned around and made your way upstairs to finish getting ready; not much, as you just needed to brush your teeth and grab your clutch. You were too focused on getting your things together that you were somehow able to ignore the burning heat still coursing through your veins.

For a little while, at least.

The click of your heels faded the further you went up the stairs, and when the coast was clear, Steve walked into the living room. He could still smell the sweet scent of your perfume lingering in the air, and right now, it was driving him insane. He was still in uniform, shield strapped to his back with a duffel bag of his own gear in hand.

Sam immediately let out a groan at the sight. “Come on, man. You’ve gotta come out with us tonight. Let loose a little.”

“No thanks,” Steve replied, clearly on edge, dropping the duffel to the floor before he took off his gloves. Then he fetched a glass from the cabinet and went to the sink. He was hot, too hot, and seeing you that tight fucking dress hadn’t helped him at all. It never did, but tonight, he was barely able to resist doing something he knew he shouldn’t. He nearly had you up against the wall in the plane, but the journey was a short one, and for that he was eternally thankful. He couldn’t have held back much longer.

The glass filled quickly, and he drained it just as fast. Then he did it again. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him – probably knew that something was up – but Steve ignored it until his friend finally asked, “You okay, Steve?”

Steve glanced over at Bucky, and then he sat the glass down on the counter. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, “Yeah, Buck. Just hot.”

Never mind the fact that the mission had been in literal Canadian tundra.

Sam just had the most shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh, I wonder why. I know you saw her, Cap. She’s been lookin’ like a real snack lately, hasn’t she?”

Steve shot Sam a look, one that plainly said he wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. It only made Sam get on his case even more.

After one more glass of water, Steve ignored Sam’s teasing and went upstairs, too. He needed to clear his head. A couple of punching bags at the gym would do just fine. It wouldn’t ease the burning heat inside of him, but it would serve as a temporary distraction.

A few minutes later, you were back downstairs with a bottle of vodka. Drinking was expensive, so you and Sam liked to pre-game – not much, just a shot or two before you went out. Saved a couple of bucks.

“What are we celebrating tonight?” you asked Sam as he poured you each a shot, and then a third for Bucky. You knew he didn’t like to go out very often, but he certainly didn’t mind having drinks with the two of you before you left. You were never sure why, because the alcohol didn’t affect him. Maybe he liked the social aspect of it.

“Successful mission?” Sam offered with an obvious wink.

You knew what he was implying, and you rolled your eyes at it. No, you hadn’t slept with the Captain which, quite frankly, made you feel a little irritable. Right now, you wanted to more than ever – especially after the way he’d looked at you on the plane. There was some clear tension between the two of you, but you were probably just imagining it.

In response to Sam’s question, you immediately threw the shot back, biting into a slice of lemon afterwards. Both of them just stared at you.

“What?” you asked, shrugging. “You boys need to keep up. I’m not nearly drunk enough for that conversation yet.”

Not that you’d be talking about it at all, but hey. Shots.

What was supposed to be pre-gaming wound up turning into an unplanned party. It wasn’t intentional. You, Sam, and Bucky started to play quarters in between jokes and shots, and then Tony showed up. That was all it took, because it was Tony.

Fire was coursing through your veins. You blamed it on the alcohol. Your body was hot, and your skin almost ached with a need to be touched – almost like the exact opposite of what happened when you got the flu. Your bare legs were thrown casually over Bucky’s lap as you conversed about some guns that were soon to be on the market. You had your eyes on an upcoming beretta, but he liked the improved anti-jam mechanism on the newest glock. It wasn’t exactly an argument, but it was more than just a normal conversation; a heated debate, maybe.

The black denim of his pants was coarse against your smooth legs, and when you moved, the material seemed to chafe in the most pleasant way. It felt good.

Everything felt good.

Even the way Nat announced her arrival, trailing her hand up your arm to settle on your shoulder before she leaned in to say hello. She’d always been touchy-feely with you, offering you kiss on the cheek, a hug, an arm around your shoulders – but for the first time in your life, the feeling of her fingertips on your skin sparked something primal inside of you. It turned you on.

Her breath against your ear when she spoke sent a shiver through you, one that both she and Bucky very clearly noticed.

“You’re a little flushed,” she said, immediately concerned, holding her wrist against your forehead. She knew you well, and you hadn’t yet drunk enough to get that kind of flush so she thought it might be a fever. It wasn’t. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you told her with a dazed smile. “Just felt nice.”

Nat pursed her lips together, but she trusted you. She’d seen you drunk a million times before and she knew that you knew your limits – so she trusted you, like always. Temperature-wise, you felt fine anyway, and she knew no one here would drug you. You’d be safe with Bucky.

After a couple more minutes of gun debate that she commented on, she disappeared into the slowly growing crowd and you shifted closer to Bucky, enjoying the feeling of his body heat and the soft material of his shirt against your skin. You got handsy when you were drinking, a fact that was well-known by just about everyone. Not inappropriately so, really, but you definitely liked to be physically close to people. Most of them indulged you because you were you, and Bucky was no different.

It was almost a necessity, anyway, in order to keep talking to him. It was louder here, now, with more bodies in the vicinity and you had to lean in closer to even hear him at all.

Steve finally popped downstairs an hour or two after the party had started. He really only knew it was happening because Sam had texted him a video of you cheering someone on in the background, your skirt riding up entirely too high. He knew Sam had sent it to him on purpose.

He hadn’t planned to do a single thing tonight after the mission except blow off some steam in the gym. It hadn’t helped at all. He wasn’t feeling quite right, almost like he was sick with a fever, but he never got ill after the serum. His body felt way too hot, but he took his temperature anyway and it was normal. Of course it was.

Getting changed had been kind of an adventure, with the different fabrics brushing pleasantly across his skin as he took off his uniform: leather, linen, metal. The soft material of his gym clothes felt too good against his skin, and when he finally decided to shower and get dressed for the party, his button-down shirt and pants didn’t feel nearly as nice. Not that it mattered.

Steve knew something was off, but he almost felt too good to care.

The moment he spotted you in the crowd, what was once a pleasant burn quickly became a roaring inferno. You were sitting next to Bucky, half in his lap, with one delicate arm hooked around his neck while the two of you conversed. Bucky’s metal hand was resting on your thigh and if Steve was in his rational mind, he would have assumed that Bucky had only put it there out of habit.

At first.

When he got closer, he saw that Bucky’s fingers were ever-so-slightly stroking – stroking the soft skin of your thigh before ghosting back against it again. You chewed your lip, mid-conversation, looking at Bucky with what even Steve could only describe as a ‘fuck me’ look: eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed. When Bucky leaned in to whisper something into your ear, the smile that came across your pretty plum lips was absolutely sinful.

If Steve could so easily see the effect the alcohol had on you, there was no way that his best friend couldn’t, not with you in his arms like this.

It set him off.

Before Steve had a chance to intervene, however, Vision pulled him into a conversation about the earlier mission. He was curious to know about the things he’d seen in Canada, about how the authorities reacted to them on the police scanner – no doubt trying to compile some statistics about whatever it was he liked to do.

By the time Steve was able to wrench himself from that conversation, you were gone.

A half-full bottle of vodka sat on the counter near him, and he drained it in seconds.

Steve found your stilettos discarded haphazardly in the corridor leading to Bucky’s apartment. He knew what was going on. Of course he did. He wasn’t stupid, but why he still wanted confirmation of it all was beyond him.

Your soft laughter and delighted gasps echoed through the hallway. As much as he hated knowing that he wasn’t the cause, the sound shot straight to his cock anyway. He should have known better than to follow you up here like this. You weren’t his girlfriend. That was a fantasy that he’d kept under lock and key for entirely too long.

It drove him absolutely insane to see the difference in you every time you changed from your unflattering uniform into a tight, skimpy club dress and heels. The heavy makeup you wore on some nights made the breath catch in his throat, because all he could imagine were those pretty painted lips wrapped around his cock. All of the perfect, unblemished skin you showed on those nights – your thighs, your breasts, your shoulders and back – he’d been wanting to mark it up for months.

And now, your breathy laughter was making him rock fucking hard and he didn’t know why he couldn’t just stop and go back to his room and take care of it himself.

When the door suddenly opened, it startled him. Bucky was there. It was almost like he’d known that Steve had been watching the two of you downstairs, and he’d been waiting for him to show up.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve hissed quietly, not wanting to alert you that he was here.

“It’s not what you think,” Bucky told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn’t. He sounded genuine, not panicked in the least, but Steve still didn’t want to believe him. He’d seen the way you were looking at him, at Bucky, like you were about to beg for something that Steve desperately wanted to give to you. “Come on, punk. Here. I’ll show you.”

Steve took a slow, shaky breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to calm himself. Maybe it really was nothing. If so, then good, great – but he still had a growing problem in his pants that needed to be addressed. When he took a step inside, he discreetly adjusted himself while Bucky shut the door again. Even that felt too good. It was a problem.

Bucky’s apartment in the compound was small and sparse. The kitchenette didn’t hold much, and the fridge was just large enough for one person. Steve had been here plenty of times before; knew exactly where the bathroom was, straight down the hallway next to the only bedroom.

The bedroom that you were absolutely not in like he’d expected you to be.

Instead, you were splayed out on Bucky’s plush sofa, staring up at the ceiling in a daze. The fabric on the lounge was a soft grey suede, and you were absentmindedly rubbing one of your palms on it, relishing in way it felt against your skin. The fingers of your other hand were curled loosely in the fleece throw blanket above your head.

Of course, your dress had ridden up quite a bit. Steve caught just a peek of your purple panties, and Bucky must have too, but both of them were gentlemen and quickly averted their eyes.

Steve couldn’t help but ask again, “What the hell, Buck?”

“She’s on something,” Bucky explained. “Some drug. Don’t know what. Maybe molly.”

The confusion must have shown on his face, because Bucky told him plainly, “It makes everything feel really, really good. Amazing, apparently.”

He wasn’t speaking from experience. Recreational drugs didn’t work on them. How the hell Bucky even knew about them was a conversation for another day.

As if on cue, you took the fleece blanket and lifted your thighs to rub it directly onto them. Your dress shifted higher and offered a particularly good view of your ass in your purple g-string, to which Steve let out the quietest groan at the sight, barely able to hold back from palming himself right there in Bucky’s living room. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Stevie!” you said excitedly, then, hopping up from the sofa with a little bit of a struggle as you tried to find your footing. “You made it!”

He swallowed thickly, taking in the sight of you with what felt like fresh eyes. Your skin was flushed, most noticeably on your cheeks and chest, and your dress was revealing far too much. Your hair was a right mess, now, not a perfect one like before but he didn’t care at all – all he cared about was the way you were looking at him. Your eyes were slightly glazed over, and the way you worried your lip in between your teeth did nothing for the stiffness in his pants.

“Yeah, doll,” he said weakly. “I made it.”

The moment your small hand slid into his, his skin almost burned under your touch. He thanked whatever deity there was that he’d rolled his sleeves up earlier, because when you pulled him down onto the couch with you, your delicate fingers started to trace hot fire on his forearms.

His knuckles brushed against the fleece blanket, then, and it felt good. Too good.

Whatever this was, he must have been affected by it too but he couldn’t really bring himself to care with you so close to him like this. You were absolutely intoxicating: the smell of your sweet perfume with just the slightest hint of sweat; the feeling of your skin against his, your soft body against him; and, most importantly, the almost fucked-out expression on your face.

God, you were going to be the death of him.

The air had been a little thick, a little strange in that cold, abandoned warehouse where the two of you went for your mission. Maybe you breathed in something you shouldn’t have. Maybe he had, too. He didn’t care.

Bucky leaned on the back of the sofa, whispering to him, “It’s not molly, is it?”

It was a statement, not a question.

His hot breath against Steve’s ear made Steve grit his teeth. That was all the answer Bucky needed.

“Did you eat anything? Drink anything? What—”

“Boys,” you whined, tugging at Bucky’s hand on the backrest above your head. “Who’s Molly? Do I know her?”

You were rolling hard and you didn’t even know you were. Neither did he.

Bucky clearly did.

“No, sweetheart,” Bucky told you, stroking your hair. “You sure don’t.”

Bucky had always been affectionate with you, and Steve never minded, really; he knew how touch-starved his friend had been for far too long. Right now, though, it pissed him off because the way you leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut, was so fucking sexy and it drove him up a wall.

Only when Bucky’s hand suddenly stilled did Steve realize how obvious his thoughts must have been.

It was too hard to concentrate. The soft, plush fabrics, the heat from your hands and your body, the way your fingertips were trailing a blazing path over the back of his hand and up his arm; how, when you half-turned around to talk to Bucky some more, your soft breasts pressed right into his bicep and, fuck, it felt amazing. All of it.

He could only imagine how good your fingers would feel around his cock. Your lips. Your tongue. How good you would feel, so wet and tight and fucking soaked for him. There was a very distinct wet patch on your panties when he’d glimpsed them, and it was driving him insane.

It was someone’s idea to put on a movie. You weren’t sure who, and you didn’t care. It didn’t matter, either, because you weren’t watching it.

All you could focus on was the heavy weight of Steve’s arm around your shoulders and the fact that his body heat almost seemed to radiate off of him as you leaned into his side. Bucky was on the other side of you on the sofa, but he was keeping his distance, now, especially compared to earlier. You vaguely recollected that you’d basically sat in his lap at one point but honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You were rolling. Must have been the alcohol.

Steve’s fingers traced slow, delicate patterns on your bare shoulder and upper arm, which was pleasant and nice – and then, when his other hand came to rest above your knee, the breath caught in your throat. His palm was a hot brand on your skin, unmoving, but you desperately wanted him to move it higher. The fact that he was so close to you already was bad enough, but knowing his hand was inches away from your throbbing core was sending you up a wall.

You nearly reached out and dragged it higher yourself.

When the credits started to roll, you didn’t even notice until Bucky cleared his throat.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced, a clear indication that you and Steve needed to leave.

“No worries,” you said with a dopey smile as you wobbled onto your feet, collecting his fleece blanket in your arms. “I’m taking this. It’s mine now.”

Bucky barely stifled a laugh. “Sure, doll. It’s all yours.”

“See you in the mornin’, Buck,” Steve said, to which Bucky gave him a very clear, very pointed look. He wasn’t too sure what it meant, other than it involved you. Then when Bucky winked, he knew exactly what he meant.

Fucking hell.

“Night,” Bucky said cheerfully, pretty much slamming the door in your faces. Not that either of you cared.

The walk to the stairs was quiet and awkward. You could have taken the elevator, but that meant less time together and this was nice. Your apartment was on the floor below, so the two of you made your way there in near-silence. It was late, but you couldn’t be bothered pulling your phone out to check.

When you reached your door, there was a lingering pause when you hesitated.

He did too.

When you finally got enough nerve, you asked him with another grin, like it was just another day at the office, “How ‘bout a coffee, Rogers?”

He did his best to sound casual when he replied, “Yeah, sure.”

You clearly didn’t just mean coffee.

Your hands were a little shaky as you selected the right key and opened the lock; then you dumped your clutch and keys in the bowl near the door and your new blanket on the sofa. You immediately missed the soft fleece on your fingertips.

“Here, you sit down,” you told him. “I’ll brew a pot.”

Steve did as you requested, sitting awkwardly in an armchair while you went to prepare the coffee. He hadn’t been in your apartment before, but he liked the décor and you kept it relatively tidy. It was sweet. It was you.

Not that he could particularly focus on that at the moment. All he could focus on was that everything smelled like you, and it made his cock even harder than it had already been for the last hour or two. At this point, it was becoming almost painful but he couldn’t find it in himself to leave and sort it out on his own. He wanted you to do it for him. Not that he’d ever say it outright.

You quickly checked the clock on the wall and found that it actually wasn’t even all that late, yet – around eleven, yet you were in no condition to keep partying. If it was with Steve, though, then maybe you could go for a little while longer. You were still feeling so, so good, after all.

After a couple of minutes, you finally handed him a plain black coffee and then sat on the sofa across from him, taking a sip of yours. It was hot. The burn on your tongue paled in comparison to the stifling heat in between your legs.

“What a night, huh?” you said with a breathy laugh. In the relatively dim lighting, you couldn’t help but admire his face, the tight button-down shirt on his body, the way just one of his large hands held your coffee mug when you had to use two. Not to mention the fact that it was just you and him, here. Alone. “God, I don’t even remember what the movie was. Do you?”

Steve felt your eyes on him, watched as they drifted down his body, and it did nothing to quell the fire burning inside him. The two of you were very clearly alone. The thought excited him just as much as it terrified him. If this was going where he thought it was going – where he wanted it to be going – he wasn’t going to be able to resist. Not when he was feeling like this.

“I don’t either,” he agreed absently, taking a sip of the coffee you’d prepared for him.

When you shifted in your seat, trying to will away the heat in between your legs, the leather of your thigh holster started to pinch at your thigh. It was a little uncomfortable, now, because you’d been wearing it for a few hours. Without thinking, you put your foot up on the coffee table and slowly slid it down your bare leg. You were back in your apartment now and you had plenty of other guns stashed around, so it wasn’t like you needed to keep wearing it.

You dropped it with a loud thud onto the coffee table. Then you looked back up at him, and immediately froze. His eyes were dark and fixed on your thighs, fixed exactly where—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You’d just flashed him your panties.

“I just— Christ, I’m so sorry, Cap,” you babbled in embarrassment, yanking your foot off the table. “My holster was pinching, and I didn’t mean to—to—”

The tension was so thick, you could have cut it with a knife.

He licked his lips. Your panties were even wetter than before. Jesus Christ.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, but his voice was low and rough and the way he was looking at you made you feel like you were going to explode. You wanted to feel his hands on you. You wanted to feel his fingers trace sweet, lazy patterns on your skin again. You wanted to feel his lips on you like nothing you’d ever wanted before.

It was ridiculous how much you wanted to fuck him.

That was when the cramps started – painful, sharp cramps that made you wince and hold your abdomen in pain. Steve was next to you in a flash, his large hand rubbing hot fire against your bare back as he checked on you, asked what’s wrong, if you’re alright—

And then they subsided as quickly as they came. In their wake it left you a shaking, gasping mess – not from pain, but from desire. Your body ached in a way that only his hand on your back was able to soothe. Your core was throbbing, clenching around absolutely nothing and that alone was torturous in its own way.

“I’m okay, Steve,” you ground out in a breathy, hushed voice that went straight to his cock. “I’m fine. It was just a cramp.”

It wasn’t just a cramp.

He swallowed thickly. Your skin beneath his fingertips burned to the touch; it was almost as hot as he felt, and he started to wonder if whatever was affecting him was affecting you, too.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

If that was the case, he needed to keep his distance. He didn’t want to take advantage of you if you were feeling even just an inkling like he was, so turned on and downright fucking insatiable. He made a point of returning to the armchair, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. If he was in his right mind, he would have just left altogether – but he wasn’t. Neither were you.

You turned on the TV to some stupid late-night show, but neither of you were watching it. Instead, you were sneaking glances at each other. The cramps came and went, and you just grit your teeth and dealt with them: inhaling in through your nose, out through your mouth. Every time he looked over at you to make sure you were okay, you gave him a curt nod but every single time made you want to fuck him even more.

You knew he was only staying to make sure you’d make it through whatever the hell this was. Steve was a good person. He wouldn’t let you suffer.

Steve wouldn’t let you suffer.

No, he’d help you.

He’d help you if you asked.

That hazy reasoning was perhaps why you finally pulled yourself to your feet and made your way over to him, almost in a daze. You couldn’t help the extra sway of your hips, and you didn’t bother to pull down your skirt. It had ridden up again from sitting down, and while you weren’t quite flashing him again, it was a very close call. Not that you even noticed.

Maybe you’d sit just a little bit closer. Maybe you’d touch him again. He didn’t pull away the last time. Maybe he’d even touch you.

As you approached, Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He blindly sat down his coffee onto the table and leaned back in the chair as you ever-so-slowly came to stand in between his spread legs. Christ, you were gorgeous. You were so fucking pretty, and all he wanted to do was kiss you, worship you, feel you writhe underneath him.

Seeing the way you were looking at him, worrying your lower lip in between your teeth, shattered his resolve. Steve knew exactly what you wanted. It was the same way you’d been looking at Bucky earlier. He held out his hand to you, easy, casual, and you took it without a second thought.

Then you were straddling in his lap, your knees on either side of him, staring into his eyes for the briefest of moments – and then your lips were hot on his because you just couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. It wasn’t a sweet, gentle kiss, but wholly passionate, one that he responded to in such a way that it instantly took your breath away. His tongue swept into your mouth far too easily and you let him dominate you, every inch of you. Your skin burned everywhere he touched, his hands sliding up and down your sides, gripping your ass, anywhere he could reach.

“Fuck,” you breathed when his lips moved to your neck, and he sucked at a particularly sensitive spot there that made your back arch into him. “God, Steve—”

You felt like you could come right this second. It felt so, so good and he hadn’t even touched you anywhere else.

Another cramp hit, and it made you whimper – but he just captured your lips with his again, swallowing the sound as he held your hips down so that you could grind against him. The clothed, intimate contact didn’t alleviate the cramps, but it was a wonderful distraction. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair to pull him closer.

You only broke away for a split second to catch your breath, and when you did, the words spilled out of your mouth almost on instinct. “Fuck me, Steve, please.”

Your voice was whiny and desperate and begging and he nearly couldn’t keep himself in check. It actually pained him to turn you down, he wanted it so much. “Sweetheart, no, you’ve been drinking—”

Then you winced as another cramp hit, your fingers tightly gripping his hair. They were starting to come more frequently, now, and you were starting to figure out why. You were too worked up, too turned on, too ready to take every fucking inch of him like you’d been wanting to for months. You must have been drugged somehow, but right now you didn’t care at all. All you wanted was for him to finally put you out of your misery.

He hated to see you in pain, but it clearly had something to do with whatever the hell it was the two of you had breathed in at the warehouse and if he could help alleviate that pain, he’d do it in an instant.

He finally lost that long, arduous battle with his self-control.

Steve used one hand to lift you up just enough so that his other could deftly unbuckle his belt; a quick zip followed, and then you felt the heft of his bare cock against your damp panties. You let out another breathy whimper at the feeling, and it made him twitch against the delicate fabric.

He could feel how wet you were. He’d seen it already, but now he could feel it, too.

When you let go of his hair to pull your g-string to the side, too hurried to even take it off, you used your other hand to grip his thick length and he took in a sharp breath at the feeling of your fingers wrapped around him. You weren’t even going to take off your panties, you were so desperate to have him inside you. The sudden realization of that made his cock throb in your small hand.

When the head brushed against your slick folds, both of you paused for the briefest of seconds to let out a sigh – and then you lined him up, before you sank down onto him all at once. You were absolutely soaked and he slid inside way too easily.

Your eyes immediately fluttered shut at the feeling. Steve’s cock was so thick, and he stretched you out so much, so perfectly that you couldn’t help but moan and slide your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body tightly against his.

“Christ,” he breathed against your neck, his lips against your pulse. “You feel so fucking good. So wet for me.”

Steve Rogers liked dirty talk. That was a surprising discovery.

“Yeah,” you moaned, grinding your hips into his in a stuttered, uneven rhythm. “All for you, Steve. Always for you.”

His hands were firm on your hips as he rocked you in a steadier rhythm, one that was rough and almost punishing. You could take it. He knew you could by the way you were babbling swears and sweet, breathy whispers of his name, begging him for more – all sorts of filthy things that spurred him on.

“Didn’t even take these off—” His fingers snapped the elastic of your panties against your hip, and you whimpered at the blissful pain. “You just couldn’t wait for me to fuck you, could you?”

Truth be told, you couldn’t. Not that you could even verbalize it.

As if the dirty talk wasn’t enough, his cock was reaching spots inside you that you’d never felt before. That, coupled with the fact that you were out of your mind on something – some drug – had you feeling absolutely amazing. It didn’t even register in your mind that the cramps weren’t exactly cramps anymore. Instead, every time one hit, it just sent you higher.

Steve gathered you in his arms, then, and lifted you only to lay you down onto the sofa. The chill of cold leather was a stark contrast to your sweaty skin. He slung one of your legs over his shoulder before he slid inside you again, and the new angle drove you even closer to the brink. There was power behind his thrusts that he couldn’t quite achieve with you in his lap, but now, you got to experience exactly what it was like to be fucked with that enhanced strength of his and you loved every fucking second of it.

He set a fast, brutal pace that sent you reeling, made you grasp at anything you could reach – the fleece blanket, his shirt, a throw pillow, his ass. You writhed so much that he had to hold your thigh firmly against his chest, otherwise you’d squirm right off the sofa. Your walls were squeezing him so tightly, and despite knowing how close you were it was incredibly difficult for him to hold back long enough for you to get yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he swore, holding onto you like his life depended on it. Hearing him curse brought you higher. “You gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

But you couldn’t really comprehend what he was saying anymore. His name fell off your lips like a prayer, over and over and over until you absolutely shattered under him, your back arching as you fell apart. Seeing your fucked-out face and feeling your tight heat clench around him was what pushed him over the edge, and he buried himself as far as he could go with a low groan, spilling inside of you as you milked him of every single drop.

There were aftershocks as the two of you just lay there with him still throbbing inside of you, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He was still rock hard, and you felt downright insatiable, but the cramps were gone at least and your head was finally starting to clear.

“Steve, we just…” you started to say, looking up at him with apprehension.

His eyes widened just a little, then, as if he suddenly realized what the two of you had just done, before he carefully pulled out of your slick heat – too carefully, like he’d taken advantage of you. Even still, the drag of your tight walls against made him grit his teeth, and the quiet gasp you released at the feeling was like music to his ears.

Something had come over him and he hadn’t been able to hold himself back.

Neither had you.

“I think something happened during the mission,” he explained, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He wasn’t as successful as he would have liked. “Something in the air. I’m sorry, I should have been able to keep myself in check.”

What he said made you think back to the warehouse. You did remember the sickeningly sweet smell in the air. Was it toxic? It certainly didn’t seem to be, aside from the very obvious side effects that made you act so wanton.

You swallowed thickly and readjusted your clothing, the tension awkward and almost stifling – not that it helped at all. His cum was already starting to drip down the insides of your thighs and it only served to work you up even further.

You wanted more.

When you caught him staring at the mess he’d made of you, it made your cheeks flush even more.

Steve was just being nice by apologizing and taking the blame for this. In all actuality he probably just thought you were easy. Of course he would. You always dressed so trashy on Friday nights, and now you’d gone and fucked him just because he was there. Even if it really was because of something the two of you breathed in, or whatever bullshit lie that was, you still fucked him so easily. It was humiliating.

Still, it did feel like you were drugged, and you’d never known Steve Rogers to be a liar.

“I’m not usually one to sleep around either,” you joked, but it came out sounding kind of pathetic, not like a joke at all.

His eyes shot from your glistening core to your face, and you found him looking at you the same way he had on the Quinjet – like a goddess. Then he gave you an apologetic smile. “I know. This wasn’t you.”

At that, you bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were still that sweet, gentle baby blue you’d always loved, even though his pupils were still blown from what the two of you had just done. In every way, he was gorgeous. You’d been wanting to fuck him for months, and now, you finally had.

The way he was looking at you only served to embolden you like the fool you were for him. “What if it was me?”

Steve noticeably tensed at your question, and you quickly looked away out of embarrassment, focusing on some magazine on your coffee table.

Oh, that was stupid. You shouldn’t have asked. Of course he hadn’t wanted this – he’d been so adamant that it had been his fault, that he’d lost control, that whatever the two of you had breathed in was to blame.

He was clearly an unwilling participant.

He’d been drugged, forced to do this.

You hadn’t.

“Was it?” he responded carefully.

You chewed your lip as you slowly, hesitantly risked a look back over at him – and you absolutely loved the sight, seeing him so dishevelled because of you. You rarely got the opportunity to see him as anything but the prim and proper Captain you’d come to know and love. It was a little fucked up, honestly, because he hadn’t wanted to do any of it but you still relished in seeing him so undone.

Steve’s eyes searched yours for an answer, but you didn’t offer one. He didn’t either.

Instead, you pulled yourself to your feet and, although your legs felt like jelly, you did your best to ignore it. You had a good working relationship with him, and you didn’t want to complicate things by admitting your feelings after some drunken romp as much as you desperately wanted to.

“It’s late,” you told him, deflecting his question.

When you went to move away from the sofa, however, his hand caught your wrist. His fingers were still so hot on your skin and you shivered from the sudden contact.

“Don’t change the subject.”

There was just a hint of command in his voice, and you did your best to keep calm when you met his eyes again – but he’d seen right through you. He always saw right through you.

“We work together,” you said, as if that was a good enough answer.

It wasn’t.

“Doesn’t bother me,” he told you, his thumb gently stroking the skin on the underside of your wrist.

“I’ve been drinking,” was your next excuse – but at this point you were very clearly stone cold sober.

Steve just shrugged. “So have I.”

You knew just as well as he did that alcohol had no effect on him.

“Well, I—“ you started to make another excuse when he tugged on your wrist just hard enough to pull you into his lap, effectively cutting you off. Your legs were on either side of him again, and you were all but forced to acknowledge the fact that he was still rock hard for you and you desperately wanted more, too.

In a stark contrast, his hand came up to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone, and he whispered, “You’re making excuses, doll.”

You swallowed thickly, your cheeks flushing under his touch.

“I don’t want this to be a one-night thing, Steve,” you finally admitted. “What’s going to happen in the morning?”

“I was thinking breakfast,” he responded with a smile – genuine, real. “How do you like your eggs?”

At that, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. You knew he had no idea that what he’d just said was a pickup line, which made it even more sweet that he was offering to make you breakfast. It made your heart flutter just a little.

Hesitantly, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t anything like the heated ones from before, and he didn’t try to deepen it at all; instead, he slid his arms around your waist to hold you closer. It was purely affectionate, even though you could feel how worked up he still was. You were too.

When you pulled away, you smiled back at him.

“I’d be happy with anything,” you offered, before you rolled your hips against his and he took in a sharp breath at the friction, “but I think we’ve got another problem to sort out first.”

This time, he leaned forward to capture your lips with his - slow, but passionate. The kiss took your breath away just as easily as the first, especially when his tongue explored your mouth with such familiarity, now, that you barely even realized he’d ripped your g-string to shreds.

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed against your lips, before he started to kiss a blazing trail to your ear. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. You know that?”

Something had changed between the two of you. This was intimate, now, despite his filthy mouth.

“Why do you think I always change on the plane?” you teased, but your voice was breathy. “I wanted to show you—”

Then his lips were on yours again, swallowing anything else you planned to say.

You hadn’t imagined the tension between the two of you at all. No, you’d been right all along.

(If you like my work, please consider donating to my Patreon or my Ko-Fi!)

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #request #completed request #friday nights

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dat-fandom-losertown · 4 years

Note

I LOVE YOUR PACIFIC RIM AU SO FAR!!! I was so engrossed I almost forgot to sleep last night! I love how you portray things, and you write very well! If it's okay to ask, do you have any examples of what you think the characters wear? I know you explained some, but I'm a bit visual when it comes to outfits (in my head I just imagine them in whatever suits the Mood™ :'3). If not that's okay!!! I wouldn't mind a (more?) thorough word-explanation, either!!! Please and thank you? :D

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I am so touched that you like TDBU so much!! Is it weird to say that I saw you liked each chapter and it 100% made my day? And, like, the mom friend in me wants to yell “DON’T SKIP SLEEP”, but I can’t count all of the times I’ve pulled an all nighter just to finish a good fic so... 😂😂 But really, thank you so much for taking the time to read TDBU and leaving an ask!! 😄💖

As for what the characters wear, I plan on drawing the main 4 once my Hand and Brain decide they wanna work together Lol (I hate artist’s block), but for now I’ll try giving you a description and various reference pictures of what they wear, because I don’t think I ever went into real detail about it. Clothing is one thing I usually don’t think about often in real life, and, looking back, my writing really shows it 😅🤣

This got really long because I did everyone (because not everyone gets a custom wardrobe like the main 4) and I love to ramble and talk a lot, so I put it all under the cut 😊

Basically, in my AU, trainees are allowed to wear basically whatever they want as long as it’s “gym appropriate” (but no shorts). So for the OC trainees, imagine a lot of yoga pants, leggings, tennis shoes, fitted T-shirts, and tough pants. All of the background employees and Luther wear the cannon Pacific Rim uniform (the first and second outfits), with the only exceptions being the scientists and Chloe (they go semi casual, some good examples can be found using Google Images), and Marshal Fowler (who also follows cannon; the third pic).

For Markus, Simon, North, and Josh, I imagine them wearing things that are close to cannon like below. Just imagine that North’s shirt doesn’t go off one shoulder, and Josh loses the jacket, and Simon and Markus lose the turtlenecks/hoods. They all, of course, have their casual outfits, but whenever Connor or Ritch see them, it’s like this. The one exception being at the party where they were all wearing various types of pajamas and comfort clothes (imagine whatever you want for the pajamas, honestly).

I imagine Hank wearing clothes close to Cannon as well (at least for now), like below. That’s his favorite sweatshirt and is seen most frequently in it along with various, dark-colored sweat pants that usually have food stains or random, small holes at the seams from age. Although, as Connor mentioned briefly in the last chapter, he has seen Hank without his infamous sweatshirt once when he dropped the alcohol off the night of the party (and I am offended at myself for not pointing that out in that chapter. It was supposed to me a very minor thirst moment for Connor because Hank’s arms are 👌 in this AU), and that was the stained, grey T-shirt we all know from the “Wake Up Lieutenant” scene. He also either wears an old pair of tennis shoes or slippers depending on how his day is going/what kind of mood he was in that morning (Connor will actually mention this in the next chapter, which will be up tomorrow!!).

Gavin is where things start to deviate (no pun intended) from cannon. He normally wears a grey (any shade as dark or darker than below) or a muted red T-shirt (similar below). He always wears dark (either blue or grey/black) fitted jeans (but not skinny or tight!!) with it, but no jacket. He’s technically a full-time Jaeger pilot, so he needs to wear clothes he can easily and quickly change out of so he can get into uniform and to the jaeger ASAP. A jacket and tight pants are two more obstacles between him and a city-destroying alien, but he’s also vain enough to not want to wear the official uniform all the time and to not go around looking like Anderson.

The only connection to D:BH cannon that Ritch and Connor’s wardrobe have are their “light and dark” color schemes. Their wardrobe is almost completely identical, with the only major differences being the colors and the fact that Ritch has heeled boots**. The pictures below show what Connor wears every single day (minus the gloves; he only wears those during training), but his shirts can be any shade of dark grey, and he has another set of pants that are navy blue. The second picture is more accurate to what Connor wears as pants than the first pic (whch should also help explain how he hid so many alcohol bottles without it being immediately suspicious), but the belt is the same as the first pic. All you need to do to get Ritch’s outfits is replace the black shirt with a white, off-white, or silver/light grey shirt, make his pants grey (he always makes sure his pants are darker than his shirt, but lighter than Connor’s shirt), and replace the boots for the ones in the third picture. His gloves and boots are both black for dirt and blood reasons, but his belt is a dark grey so it doesn’t "clash” with the light color scheme.

**Ritch fully realizes how dangerous it is to fight in heels, but by the time Amanda had adopted them and started their training, Ritch had been stealing heels and wearing them every day for years in order to be significantly taller than Connor and more easily differentiated from him, so his leg muscles and feet had literally grown used to the incline of the heels. Wearing normal boots (like Connor’s) was (and still is) uncomfortable for him. There will be more details and such about this discussed within the next 2 or 3 chapters, but know that there’s a low chance of him breaking an ankle or something while training or fighting due to reasons. (I’m taking some creative liberties with Ritch’s “shoe problem” because [both thankfully and frustratingly] I couldn’t anything about overuse of high heels by children or anyone else with developing muscles. However, the effects Ritch has in this fic do happen to women after years of almost daily wear, just to a lesser extent, but nowhere on the sites I used said that the heels were higher than 3 inches, which was the minimum Ritch was wearing.)

#long post #I don't know why the cut is glitching #but I apologize for that #The Drift Between Us #Nirlan talks too much

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grailacademy · 5 years

Photo

Welcome To Grail Academy - Chapter Sixteen: Heroes And Villains

There was a small courtyard behind the factory, with stone benches and a circular gravel patch where a patch of grass grew from the center. People usually took their lunch breaks out there, but right now it was empty. The ringed path broke off in a line that led to a greenhouse, glass walls and a ceiling where vines sprouted out from the skylight. Nothing really grew in there anymore, aside from the weeds. Yorick found it as an opportunity to get away from the noise and bustle of the factory workers and his new team. Or so he thought. When he entered the presumably empty hut, he saw Scarlet, his back turned, clutching a singed white scarf.

“He loved this spot. Always quiet.”

“Scarlet….I’m so sorry.” “I don’t get what she sees in you.” “What?” “Sable saved us, all of us. Rescued me from a freak show circus, pulled Rettah out of a trafficking ring, kept Queenie from rotting away in an orphanage. Even Buck, he was working as an errand boy for his deadbeat dad before Sable found him. But you, you’ve got nothing. No training, no character. I don’t understand why you’re so goddamn important. She doesn’t even care that he’s dead.” “I’m-“ “She doesn’t even care that you killed him. It should have been you.” Scarlet hastily wrapped the scarf around his neck. He turned and stormed out, shoving his shoulder into Yorick’s to push him out of the way. Now, alone, finally, he couldn’t stop looking at the scarf, and thinking about what he did.

Nico loathed the Grimm Studies class. Though, he loathed all of his classes in general, but this one above all others. As Professor Kismet paced in front of the class, drawing diagrams on a chalkboard much taller than his own stunted stature in the green suit, reciting a passage from a next book about the vulnerabilities of mammalian Grimm, Nico found himself nodding off and drooling over his notes. Of course, he never actually took any notes, they were really more scribbles and doodles of him riding dragons and wielding flaming swords and guns, vanquishing the teachers whose classes he hated. He spent a good chunk of his study time chewing his fingernails, balancing pencils above his upper lip, and napping. Trying to find some entertainment in the dull period, he folded a sheet of paper into a triangle, and flicked it with his finger at the back of someone’s head.

Bernard felt a sharp tap at the back of his head, and turned around after the paper hit him to spot Nico showcasing a dashing smile with two pencils stuck up his nose. It had been a week since his team had enacted their plan for a private investigation, so he had been distracted and daydreaming in most of his classes as well. Bernard rolled his eyes and turned back around, unfolding the paper that had been delivered to him unconventionally. Pulling up the last fold revealed a crude drawing of Nico and Bernard, both wearing sunglasses and riding in a car with flames on the sides and comically large tailpipes, speeding away from an explosion and a fleet of alien spaceships. Bernard smiled and chuckled quietly, tucking the paper away in a folder that housed many more drawings just like it. But before he did, he turned it over and saw the note written on the back.

Wanna cut class?

As discreetly as possible, Bernard gave a thumbs up to his partner sitting a few rows behind him, and the theatrics went into play. Nico caught his signal and started licking the palms of his hands. He wiped the spit over his face and through his hair to the point of being practically drenched in false sweat, then held his breath until his cheeks turned bright red. “Professor Kismet,” Nico raised his hand and interrupted the lesson, “I don’t feel too hot.”

“Mr.Rosé, this is the fifth time you’ve fallen ill during my class this month.”

“Yeah, but this time, I really feel sick!” To add to the charade, Nico stood up and began to stumble down the stairs, gripping the railing with both wet hands. “Ooh, my head...my stomach….my bones….”

Bernard raised his hand, saying “I should take him to the nurse. I’ve seen what happens, it gets nasty.” Professor Kismet tiredly nodded and Bernard rushed over to his partner, picking him up and carrying him out off the classroom fireman style, all the while Nico moaning “I can see the light! Papa, is that you? I’ll be home soon! Wait for me! Oh, the light, it hurts….I feel so weak, papa!”

The two of them strolled through the empty hallways, taking care to avoid the corners where hall monitors were stationed. Uniforms weren’t required at Grail Academy, but some people still wore the emerald trousers and green-striped neckties over their white button-down shirts to show school pride. Those who didn’t feel the need to be patriotic, like Nico, just wore their combat outfits or casual clothes. Bernard loosened his necktie and rolled up his shirt sleeves, walking beside his friend who was holding his arms out and balancing on the lines of the patterned tile floor as they strolled. “Soooo….we never really talked about what happened.”

“Be specific,” Bernard crammed his hands into his pockets, “A lot of things happened.”

“We did see a dude die. Then there was Yorick running off with a bunch of murderers, Madehold being in a cult, and YOUR little adventure. What was that, anyway?”

Bernard stayed quiet for a few seconds before he responded by shrugging and shaking his head. “Whatever it was, it’s strong.”

“You think that was the stuff Yorick was smoking?”

“Boost? Maybe.”

Nico hummed, taking the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face clean from the spit he rubbed over himself. “Is Esme gonna be okay?”

“Don’t know.”

“The Great War left Remnant in shambles, which is why hunters were so important at the time. High stress made most communities trying to rebuild vulnerable to more Grimm attacks. So many in fact, that registered and licensed hunters were barely enough to defend the kingdoms. Can anyone tell me what happened as a reaction to this problem? Anyone?” The teacher for Remnant History slouched against the back of their desk, looking out over the sea of disinterested students. Professor Choi frowned in disappointment when nobody offered an answer, and slapped the long pointer stick on the chalkboard, under the word MILITIA that was circled and underlined. “Citizens formed militias. This will be on your written final, people.” Esmerelda yawned and glanced down at the textbook open in front of her. Grimm Studies. She was wasting time in this useless class when she should be out searching for her friend. She couldn’t stand to be so idle. “Citizens who weren’t already hunters trained themselves and established militias, and guilds of rogue hunters. The community efforts helped to fight back the Grimm scourge, but after the kingdom’s governments were fully recovered, everyone in those guilds and militias were arrested.”

Esmerelda’s hand shot up. “Why?”, she asked.

“Do you want the textbook answer or the truth?” Professor Choi leaned forward, glad that someone was finally getting engaged with the lecture.

“Which one will be on the written final?”

“Clever.” Choi straightened up and strutted across the room as they explained, “The official reason is that they were operating as hunters without licenses. But there are plenty of documents that prove the guilds did more work fighting back the Grimm than the actual hunters they hired. If they weren’t arrested, those villagers would put hunters out of business!”

Some of the classroom giggled, and Choi was proud of themself for getting a laugh out of their students. “It’s the power of community. Your semester exams are right around the corner, so remember this. Family protects each other. There is strength in numbers. That’s how the militias and guilds survived for so long, and it’s how you’ll survive.” Oh, crap. Semester Exams. And Esmerelda hadn’t trained for them at all! This never happened before. For the very first time, she forgot to prepare for a test. She was so focused on finding her partner that the exams completely slipped her mind. Beau was sitting next to Esmerelda, and she leaned over and asked under her breath, “What do you think it’ll be this year?”

“I STUDIED!” She was startled and blurted out the blatant lie, her nails clawing at the underside of her desk. The gaze of the entire room fell on her for a painfully long moment, and then her classmates went back to their work. “Ahem, uhm. Hm? What did you say?”

“I asked what you thought the exam would be! Are you alright?”

“Oh, of course. I’m fine, darling. Just tired, that’s all.”

“....Sure. Well, you aced all of your exams in the first semester, right? You must have some insight on what’s going down this time!”

“Gosh….I suppose it will be something physical. Perhaps a hunting mission? Last year my team had to clear out an Ursa den and retrieve a talisman. It usually entails an excessive amount of Grimm.”

“Whoa….I guess I should get BRVI ready for it, then.” Beau closed her textbook and stuffed it into her book bag along with a couple of folders and a pencil case. She straightened the jeweled pin that held her headscarf tight. “By the way, where’s Yorick? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Esmerelda plucked her nails out from the bottom of her desk and sat still in her chair. “He’s visiting his grandmother in Atlas.”

#rwby #rwby oc #ebny #team ebny #grail academy #welcome to grail academy #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #oc writing #oc fanfic #oc fanfiction #rwby fanfic #rwby fanfiction #punk #pink

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 6 years

Text

I’m Not That Easy Mr. Kim [11]

Words: 2.2k

Pt: 00 / 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 /

------------------------------

As the car that took you and Taehyung back to the, high maintenance looking, apartment building, he led you to the elevator and up to the top floor, the entire floor being his for his penthouse. You were already rolling your eyes at the fact the rich man had an entire floor to himself, but you expected nothing less.

When the two of you stepped out, you noticed a tall, black haired man standing outside Taehyung’s door. Taehyung himself smiled as he seemed to huff, almost in relief, at seeing the man. He called to him, pulling his attention from his phone up to the two figures walking closer to him.

“Jin!” Jin pushed off the wall to meet you two half way, which wasn’t too far to begin with. Taehyung silently thanked him for coming with his eyes and the way he smiled to his friend. Jin just rolled his eyes as he moved his gaze to look down at you, you already looking up at him. You didn’t seem shy at all as you held his gaze without falter.

“You’re his friend he called over then?” Jin nodded.

“I’m Kim Seokjin, I work under Taehyung as his secretary, but I consider myself his friend before work.” He offered you his hand as you took it, also giving him a slight bow.

“So he does have friends, I’m shocked.” You let go of Jin’s had as you gasped in fake surprise, Jin joining in your fun.

“He has very few, but they do exist.”

“Hey! Are you both going to insult me all afternoon or are you going to come inside?” He held up his key to his penthouse that dangled along with his other countless keys on his lanyard. Jin and you shared a small laugh, Taehyung slightly relieved Jin already seemed to like you. He let you both inside and you just wanted to stomp around and roll your eyes again seeing how elegant his home was.

It was like an entire house. If you weren’t so high up in the air, you’d think this was it’s own property. An open, large living area leading to a kitchen with an open windowed wall for people to see and speak to those in the kitchen from out of it. A dinning area that didn’t seem used often and down the small hall you suspected a series of doors to various rooms.

“Rich people really do piss me off.” You mumbled, Taehyung hearing you as he pat your head and laughed.

“Take your shoes off and leave them in the landing, I’ll take you to my room and you can shift through my closet until your heart's content.” Just as he said, you kicked off you flats and moved into the house, following behind Taehyung as Jin went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water before moving to the living room and pouring his papers he had yet to finish onto it.

Taehyung opened his room door and you followed him in, once again in awe of how nice it is. Taehyung watched you as you looked around and then moved to the window to look at how high you actually were. He chuckled at you. Having you here with him now, he wasn’t so nervous and he slightly wondered what there was to be nervous about anyways. His house and room were all tidy and organized and it wasn’t like it wasn’t always stocked. Maybe it was just your presence.

He walked up behind you as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and joined you in looking down at the world 20 stories below him.

“You seem impressed.”

“Well excuse me if I’m not use to being this high in a penthouse with one room being the size of my entire lousy apartment.”

“Yeah, its big, but it’s too big most times. I’m the only one living her after all.” You bit back the option of voicing how it wasn’t always him though with all the women you assumed he use to bring home. You moved from the window as you pointed to a set of sliding doors, asking if that was his closet. He nodded as you got to the door and slid them open, smiling wide at the large array of choices.

Of course he had his business clothes, suits of all kinds, but he had others as well. Sweaters, t-shirts, tank tops even. In a small hanging organizer were his bottoms. Shorts in one cube, jeans in another and sweats in a different on. His socks and boxers were all pushed into a small plastic filing organizer, but you dared not pull it open. At the bottom of his closet were his selection of shoes. From glossy dress shoes to torn and tattered high tops or even a pair of slippers. He literally had it all.

“Wow, you rich people don’t mess around when it comes to clothes, huh?” He walked up behind you as he shrugged.

“I couldn’t say. I do have a thing for clothes, fashion rather. It interests me as a small hobby, so I may have a bit more than the average rich man.” You looked at him over your shoulder as he scanned his clothes like he probably did every day.

“So, the CEO to be likes clothes, huh?” He looked down to you.

“I do.”

“Favorite brand?”

“Gucci.”

“I’d expect no less from you.” You scoffed as you started looking hanger from hanger. You heard Taehyung pull off his blazer as you turned to him. His back was to you as he stood at his bed, his blazer pulled off his arms as he worked on loosening his tie and even ruffled up his inplace hair, making it more home appropriate.

You looked at his back before you looked back in closet. You wondered if he’d agree to letting you try on a few things just to see how they looked together.

“Hey, Taehyung?” He hummed back to you as he turned his torso around to you slightly, undoing the top buttons of his white dress shirt. “You wanna be my model for a while?” He blinked a few times.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me pick things from your closet for you to put on and I can gauge from that if they go together or look good.” You walked over to him, he now turned to face you fully and even leaning back a bit as you leaned up to look at his face. He blinked.

“What are you doing?” He asked a bit flustered as you leaned further up on your toes.

“I’m looking at the makeup you have on. I wanna try and mirror it sometime so I have to memorize it. Stop moving around.” You leaned back down slightly as you cupped your chin, mentally going over the image of his face in your head. Taehyung sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Do I really have any say in this?”

“Honestly no.”

“Well that’s that.” You smiled as he gave up and you rushed out of the room, going back to the living room seeing Jin sitting on the couch. You went to the couch and leaned over it slightly, getting the oldest’s attention.

“I know you’re probably busy, but do mind if I dress Taehyung up and show you, for an outsiders opinion?” He blinked a few times before he smiled.

“Not at all. Dress him up as many times as you like, I’m not going anywhere.” You bit back a big grin as you pushed off the couch and went back into Taehyung’s room, seeing him at his closet. You shooed him away and told him to sit on the bed as you picked random things from the wide selection.

You ended up putting him in various outfits. From black pants that hugged his thighs with a bold red shirt and a beanie over his head, a sweater hanging loose from him with a pair of loose, bright jeans, a hoodie with the face of a monster on the hood and of course the large varieties of Gucci he had.

You had pulled out your promised last outfit for him to put himself into as you shut yourself in his closet so he could change. He called for you when he was finished and you smiled as he put his arms to his sides and playfully twirled before dropping them again.

“I think this is my favorite look on you so far Kim Taehyung.” He looked down at himself.

“Really? You like it?” A pair of black pants that hugged his legs, a hole at his knee with a black t-shirt tucked into his pants that said “In Bloom” in English written on it. With a tan cardigan and black, high shoes with only a 2in flat bottom separating his feet from the floor. You mused his hair to hang over his forehead so his bang flicked his eyelashes. If you paired it with a bag, it’d be a complete look.

“I really do. It makes you look less pretentious and more like an actual person.” You adjusted the way the cardigan laid on his chest and smiled. “It’s casual.” He smiled down at you as you fixed this and that. He was enjoying himself, spending time with you and seeing you do what you love. He felt you pat his chest as you pushed him towards the door.

“Go show Jin!” He shook his head as he left his room, you following him out. “Jin, it’s the last one!” Jin had long since stripped off his own blazer and removed his tie with his top button undone. He looked up over the couch, and smirked as he put his arm over the top of it, twisting to look at his street casual looking boss.

“Well, you don’t you look comfortable.” Jin looked at you as you peeked around Taehyung. “I like it. It’s much easier to look at him like this than it is when he’s stuffed in a suit or tux.”

“Taehyung in a tux, that’s a thought.” You laughed with Jin as Taehyung just crossed his arms and pouted.

“I happen to look great in a tux.” You pointed at him and put your fingers on the corners of his mouth before lifting them up for him before he started smiling a giant boxy smile while laughing.

“See, the clothes fit you even more now!” Jin shook his head at your antics as he looked outside as the sky darkened, then to the watch that was strapped to his wrist.

“Y/N?” You turned to him.

“Yeah?”

“It’s pretty late already. Shouldn’t you be heading home?” You gasped as you finally took in the time of day it was.

“Oh god! I didn’t even realize!” You went to run to the landing by the door and slip on your shoes. You barely managed to slip on one flat when you felt Taehyung grab your arm, gaining you attention.

“Don’t leave.” You looked up at him, moving to stand straight up with only one shoe on.

“What?”

“Don’t leave. It’s late, and it’s dark and I don’t want you going home alone. You live far from here, don’t you?”

“I can’t just stay here Taehyung.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because I have work in the morning. And this is your house, and-”

“I’ll take you to your apartment in the morning so you can change, and I can take you to work. I have a business meeting in the morning with my father’s board and with your eye for clothes, you can dress me if you want to.” He wanted so badly to slid his hand down your arm and grab your hand, but you might get angry if he did. “Please, just stay?”

“Taehyung….”

“I’ll even ask Jin to stay too if that makes you feel comfortable. He stays here all the time, so he won’t mind.”

“Say I agree to this, where will I sleep? What will I wear? Can I shower?”

“You’ll be in my room, you can borrow a hoodie and some sweats if you want to., and of course you can shower, what kind of question is that?”

“I’m not kicking you out of your room Taehyung.”

“Then we can share the bed.”

“Excuse me?”

“I won’t do anything I promise!” You sighed as you just kicked off your one shoe and walked back up and out of the landing. Taehyung smiled as he let go of your arm, knowing you had just given in to his pleas. “I’ll grab you some clothes and then you can go shower.” He dashed off back to his room as you walked back into the living room and plopped onto one of his leather recliners. Jin looked at you, one of his brows raised.

“He convinced you to stay the night didn’t he?” You nodded. “So I’m staying over too I presume?” You only nodded again. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. I had a feeling he wouldn’t want you to leave.” You wanted to question what Jin meant, but Taehyung shouting for you stopped your actions as you got up and went to his room.

You stood in front of his door as he pushed the hoodie you had him put on earlier with the monster face on the hood, and a pair of small black sweats in your arms. He didn’t stop smiling as he lead you to the bathroom, pointing out where all the things you needed were like soaps and towels. He left you to clean up as you locked the door behind him and just showered off the events of the day.

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real-life-pine-tree · 7 years

Text

Counterpart Cousins: Dance Lessons - Part 1 (1/?)

When Yuto discovers his connections to the Sakaki family, his once-bleak and lonely life becomes a lot brighter. A series of Yuya and Yuto familial fluff oneshots based on the Arc-V Aftermath series. Co-written with @violetganache42.

One day, in the newly-revived Heartland section of the mashed-up unnamed city, Yuto Osaku was working out in the Obsidians' gymnasium. Ever since he and his counterparts split, he began a new chapter in his life; he started working for the family's company ObsidianCorp and has been living with his girlfriend Lulu and her older brother Shay. After accepting the job offer of being in charge of the company's new dueling branch and getting hired right off the bat, he has been adjusting to living in a high-class environment since he was born a middle-class civilian.

Today, he wasn't at work today because his schedule assigned him not to work on weekends, so what better way to spend the hour by gaining some muscle. He obviously isn't buff, but dealing with the Invasion helped make him a bit buffer than all of his counterparts combined. Lulu doesn't mind though; it was one of the many qualities she admired about him.

As he was doing some push-ups, a knock on the door was heard and a robotic voice wanted to tell him something important. "MASTER Y-YUTO, THERE IS A PHONE CALL FOR YOU."

"Who is it, Orbital?" Yuto asked.

"YUYA SAKAKI," Orbital answered.

Yuya? Why would his cousin want to talk to him? Was there something important he wants to discuss? "You can come in," Yuto said as he completed his last push-up and got back on his feet.

"YOU HAVE COMPLETE 32 PUSH-UPS," a robotic coach stated. "THAT IS A NEW RECORD."

"Thanks for the update," Yuto said after taking a sip from a bottle of water. "What's my update for weight lifting?"

"YOUR CURRENT WEIGHT LIFTING RECORD IS 3 POUNDS," the robotic coach answered.

Yuto chuckled. "I can do better than that," he said, wanting to beat Shay's record. "Add two more pounds."

"VERY WELL, MASTER YUTO," the robotic coach replied.

As the door opened, Orbital wheeled towards Yuto to hand him the phone as the robotic coach went over to where the weights were to make the total weights five pounds. "Hey Yuya," Yuto spoke into the phone. "What do you-"

"TEACH ME HOW TO DANCE!"

The sudden outburst scared Yuto, causing him to almost drop the phone. As he managed to catch it before it fell onto the floor, he wondered what was wrong with Yuya and why on earth he wanted to learn how to dance. Whatever the reason, he sounded pretty nervous.

"Calm down," Yuto said. "What's going on?"

"It's Zuzu!" Yuya exclaimed, still panicking. "There's a school dance in a few days, I asked her out, and I realized I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DANCE!"

Yuto chuckled. "Yuya, you already know how to dance," he pointed out.

"Not with a girl!" Yuya cried out. "I need you to teach me how to dance like how you dance with Lulu!"

The frantic teen remembered his cousin telling him and their counterparts one morning about the Heartland Duel School dance and he has a good visual of how romantic it must have been for the couple. The only problem is he wasn't there to fully experience it first hand to get an understanding of how to formally dance because he didn't knew about the other dimensions at the time.

"So you want me to teach you how to formally dance?" Yuto asked.

"Yes!" Yuya exclaimed.

"Alright," Yuto said. "I'll come over."

"Thank you!" Yuya said.

Yuto hung out the phone and gave it back to the head robo-butler. "Orbital, ask Mr. Obsidian if you could borrow the family car," the eggplant-haired teen ordered. "I need you to escort me to the Sakaki residence."

"BUT MASTER Y-YUTO, YOU ARE NOT SUITED FOR VISITING YUYA SAKAKI," Orbital pointed out.

Yuto looked down at the gym clothes he was wearing to see they were drenched in sweat. It seemed Orbital was right about him being unsuitable for a visit. He then altered the instructions to ask Kameron about borrowing the family car to see Yuya while he takes a shower. Once he was done, he'll know if was given permission to do so by then. The robo-butler understood the declaration loud and clear as the two departed through the gym doors.

"SHOULD I PROVIDE YOU WITH FRESH CLOTHES FOR YOU TO WEAR AFTER YOUR SHOWER?" Orbital asked.

"Of course," Yuto answered. "Go get one of my more casual outfits."

"YES SIR, MASTER Y-YUTO," Orbital replied with a salute.

As the two headed upstairs, they parted ways: Yuto going to Lulu's private bathroom to shower and Orbital searching the house where Kameron was and where he last saw him.

Lulu was experimenting with new ways to style her long hair when Yuto entered her bedroom. "Hey there, handsome," she casually said, her gaze never leaving her vanity mirror. "How was your workout?"

"I had to end it early," Yuto answered, blushing slightly at his girlfriend's compliment. "Yuya wants me to teach him how to dance."

"How cute!" Lulu remarked as she started brushing her hair. "You could use some cousin bonding."

Yuto knew what she meant by "cousin bonding". The Sakakis were the only people left in his family tree: Yusho, Yoko, Yuya, and Sora (who was adopted by Yoko not long ago). He still couldn't believe that he had been going against the Fusion Dimension alongside his own cousin all this time and didn't realize it until after he got the job of running the dueling branch at ObsidianCorp. It also explained why Yoko reminded him of his mother Lono. This new connection, without a doubt, changed his life and he actually did want to find the time to bond with Yuya now that the Interdimensional War was over. Since he doesn't have work, why not today?

"You're actually right," Yuto told Lulu. "I spent a lot of time with Yuya, but I never really got to know him. Maybe some bonding could help." He walked over to Lulu to kiss her cheek. "By the way, you look cute with pigtails."

Lulu giggled and thanked her boyfriend for the compliment. The last time she wore pigtails was before Lono's funeral and when he was practicing his Skill for the Team Duel Tournament. It was one of the many hairstyles she learned how to do while she was practicing on how to properly maintain long hair.

"You don't look so bad yourself," Lulu complimented as she proceeded to tie her hair up in pigtails with her feather-shaped hair clips, glancing at Yuto through her mirror. "The t-shirt and shorts you're wearing nicely show off your muscles."

Yuto smirked after hearing those words and looking at his reflection. It may be a time of peace, but he still has his ego. At this point, he's gotten used to the comments of how certain features of him look nice. "I guess that Invasion proved to be a bit useful," he remarked, flexing his arm.

This was one of Yuto's many ways of flirting with Lulu because he knows how much she loves his slightly muscular body. And sure enough, she was blushing heavily and smiling wide. "We have plenty of time together this evening," she informed. "You said you'll help Yuya learn how to dance, remember?"

"Of course," Yuto replied. "But as a preview for tonight..." He proceeded to take off his t-shirt before heading into the bathroom, leaving his girlfriend in stunned silence.

Several minutes later, Orbital entered the bedroom with a pile of clean clothes just as Yuto was almost done with his shower. "Hi Orbital," Lulu said, testing new lipstick shades.

"HELLO MISTRESS L-LULU," Orbital greeted. "LILLYBOT IS ALMOST DONE WITH HER MONTHLY MAINTENANCE CHECK."

"Thanks Orbital," Lulu said. She glanced at what Orbital was carrying. "Fresh clothes for Yuto?"

"JUST LIKE HE ORDERED," Orbital replied. "I ALSO WISH TO INFORM YOU THAT THE WEDDING PREPARATIONS FOR YOURS AND MASTER Y-YUTO'S WEDDING ARE-"

"Activate Protocol TBA-.09," Lulu interrupted, feeling embarrassed.

Protocol TBA-.09 was a special program made to have any discussions regarding the early wedding preparations interrupted. Lulu installed it in all the house robots, including Lillybot and Orbital, because the thought of focusing on those plans was embarrassing, especially at an age as young as 14 years old. Why else would it include the acronym TBA in the first place?

"MY APOLOGIES, MISTRESS L-LULU," Orbital said. "BUT YOUR FATHER WAS SO INSISTENT. HE AND YOUR MOTHER ARE HAPPY THAT YOU CHOSE A SUITOR FOR YOURSELF."

"I know," Lulu said, letting out a loving sigh. "Yuto is cute and perfect, a true blessing."

At that moment, it sounded like the shower was turned off. "Orbital, if you're already here, I want to tell you that I'm done," Yuto said from behind the bathroom door.

"SHALL I GIVE YOU YOUR CLOTHES?" Orbital asked.

The door cracked open. "Just leave them near the door," Yuto answered.

"YES SIR, MASTER Y-YUTO," Orbital replied with a salute.

Orbital placed the clothes near the door so that Yuto can get some privacy while drying off. They consisted of a dark red t-shirt and dark denim jeans, alongside his dog collar and silver-studded black wristbands. He kept his wristbands and dog collar with him after he got his body back whenever he wants to dress casual, such as today.

Yuto picked up the provided clothes. "Not bad," he commented from inside the bathroom. "Orbital, I want you to also retrieve my black sneakers."

"YES SIR, MASTER Y-YUTO," Orbital replied with a salute.

With the clothes in his hands, Yuto closed the bathroom door to dry off and get dressed. His usual routine when it comes to getting clean after showering involves him rubbing off the water from his body with his towel and using a hairdryer to blow dry and brush his spiky, eggplant-colored hair due to him having thicker and longer hair than his counterparts. Once he was no longer wet and damp, he put on the provided clothes for the day and not forgetting to wear the light gray glasses he received on the night of the LID dance. He smirked at his reflection as he put on his dog collar and wristbands, happy with his look.

The bathroom door opened as he stepped into Lulu's bedroom, clean and dressed to visit Yuya. Of course, Lulu was impressed. "Not bad," she said, looking at Yuto through her mirror. "You look pretty cute."

"Not as cute as you," Yuto replied, noting that his girlfriend's hair was done in long pigtails.

"I appreciate the compliment, but you do have to visit Yuya," Lulu pointed out.

"Of course," Yuto said. "Orbital, did you speak to Mr. Obsidian?"

"HE IS OKAY WITH ME DRIVING YOU TO THE SAKAKI RESIDENCE," Orbital reported.

"Good," Yuto said. He looked back at Lulu, who was trying to choose between two shades of lipstick. "Go with pale pink lipstick," he advised. "Bright red probably won't look good on you."

Lulu realized he was right; bright red wasn't the kind of lipstick to wear on non-formal days. She thanked him for the tip before he left the bedroom with Orbital.

"MASTER Y-YUTO, YOU SAID YUYA SAKAKI IS YOUR COUSIN," Orbital said, giving Yuto his black sneakers. "BUT YOUR TWO LOOK SO SIMILAR. ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE NOT TWINS?"

"It's kind of complicated," Yuto admitted as he put on his shoes. "But long story short, my mom happened to be Yuya's aunt."

"OF COURSE," Orbital said. "THAT WOULD EXPLAIN THE SIMILAR FACES AND VOICES."

Once they were outside, two opened the front doors, with Orbital obviously in the driver's seat and Yuto riding shotgun. The robo-butler extended his body in order for him to drive; it was part of his program to do so whenever Shay or Lulu needed a lift. After buckling their seatbelts, Yuto gave out instructions to head to Yuya's house for the former to program them in.

"MASTER Y-YUTO, ACCORDING TO MY DATABANKS, YUYA SAKAKI NEVER HAD AN AUNT," Orbital realized as he drove.

"Our moms were separated when the four dimensions were created," Yuto explained. "Aunt Yoko was in the Standard Dimension, while my mom was in the XYZ Dimension. It wasn't until recently that Yuya noticed my last name is the exact same as his mom's maiden name."

"I SEE," Orbital said. "IS THAT WHY YOU AND YUYA SAKAKI ARE COUSINS?"

"Pretty much," Yuto answered.

Some time later, they arrived at the Sakaki residence as Orbital parked in front of the house. Yuto unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car to head inside, only for him to be greeted by Yoko.

"Hi Yuto," Yoko said, letting the XYZ Duelist enter the house. "Yuya is currently in his room."

"Thanks Aunt Yoko," Yuto said. Needless to say, it still felt weird calling her 'aunt'.

Yuto then headed upstairs to Yuya's bedroom, where he saw his tomato-haired cousin sitting on his bed with a huge pile of books. "Yuya?" he asked, perplexed. "What's with all the books?"

Yuya held up the book he was currently reading, which was called 'Dancing for Clueless Idiots'. "I got these from the local library," he explained. "But I don't think they're helping."

"Of course they're not helping," Yuto said. "You can't learn how to dance by reading. You need to picture it."

"Picture it?" Yuya asked

Yuto nodded in response. "Just imagine it," he said, taking the book out of Yuya's hand and setting it aside. "You're at the Paradise Prep school dance. You arrived late, but across the room, you see a beautiful princess."

Yuya closed his eyes to imagine himself overdue in entering his school for the dance. In his mind, he donned his tuxedo that Yusho used to wear when he was younger because he planned on wearing it in a few days. Just as he was about to take a look at his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of this princess that Yuto mentioned. She had pink hair that reached past her shoulders with short, light pink side tails; no doubt he pictured Zuzu.

"Zuzu..." Yuya said.

"You have seen this princess before, but not like this," Yuto said. "She looks too beautiful, causing your heartbeat to increase. You can't believe a princess like her would even consider a guy like you. But regardless of your past, you walk over to her, hypnotized by her radiant beauty."

The words coming out of Yuto's mouth came into a reality in Yuya's head as he walked to where she was while left speechless and dazed at how beautiful she looked. He soon found himself standing right in front of her.

"Wow..." Yuya said. "You look amazing."

"Thanks Yuya," Zuzu replied, smiling softly. "You don't look so bad either."

"Suddenly, music starts playing," Yuto said. "But not just any music. It's softer music, perfect for a romantic dance."

Sure enough, romantic music began its melody as it echoed throughout the entire gymnasium. That could only mean one thing: it was time for people to start dancing, but the question was will Yuya be able to dance with a girl.

He looked at Zuzu. Taking a deep breath, he held out his hand. "Do you... Do you..."

Yuto let out a frustrated sigh. "Stop hesitating," he said. "It will only make you look nervous. Be more confident and know you can do it."

Yuya was the kind of person to not have a lot of confidence in certain aspects. Getting cornered in duels, coping with his odd-eyed colors on his irises, and now formal dancing. Whatever the situation is that intends to break his confidence, he was bound to be hesitant. He has been able to gain a confidence boost as he travelled with the Lancers across dimensions, so hopefully it'll come to good use in his vision.

"Alright," Yuya said. "Zuzu Boyle, do you want to dance with me?"

Zuzu's smile became brighter. "Of course, Yuya," she said, accepting his hand.

The moment the two held hands, Yuya could physically feel Zuzu's hand even though it was only an imagination. But the touch felt a bit off...

"You escort her to the dance floor, your hand never leaving hers," Yuto said. "Once you arrive at the dance floor, you get into position as you place your other hand on her waist and she places her other hand on your shoulder."

The vision repeated exactly what Yuto said as Yuya and Zuzu accompanied each other to the dance floor and placed their free hands on the latter's waist and the former's shoulder. Their contact still felt different yet he couldn't determine why.

"You and the princess gently move to the music," Yuto said. "You hold her very gently as your dance with her, almost as if she's a porcelain doll, your gaze never leaving her beautiful eyes."

Yuya knew Zuzu was more spunky and short-tempered than delicate while they danced slowly. Could this be the unusual feeling he was just experiencing?

"Then it hits you," Yuto said. "Out of all the guys in the city, why you? Why would this beautiful, elegant princess fall for you? You're nothing more than a commoner, so why-"

"We're not talking about Lulu," Yuya interrupted.

Yuto immediately caught on what his cousin was saying. His dating experience involved Lulu, and given that she and Zuzu look alike due to them being Ray's reincarnations, he thought they were the same. But seriously, can you blame him? He met her in person several times before the Arc League Championship and she reminded him of his girlfriend.

"But you still shouldn't be too rough," Yuto pointed out. "Even if a girl isn't a princess, they deserve to be treated like one during these moments."

He wasn't wrong. Even the toughest females can reveal their softest, gentlest, and princess-like selves if given the right amount of treatment from the males, and Zuzu was no exception.

"So... I heard you-" Yuya started to say.

"Please be quiet," Yuto said. "Talking will only ruin the mood."

Yuya quickly shut his lips after Yuto was done talking. He wondered what the next part of the dance lessons were going to be.

"As you embrace in the dance, you can't help but be amazed as the beautiful princess," Yuto continued. "There's even a point in which she displays a bit of affection."

Yuya resumed imagining himself and Zuzu dancing, only this time, it appeared he was a natural at it. His expectations have been achieving much greater heights than he initially thought; he was amazed at how well his imaginary self was doing. As they waltzed across the floor, his childhood friend ruffled his soft, fluffy, tomato-colored hair as a sign of affection. Much like with the hand-holding, he felt his hair getting disheveled outside of his mind.

"Are you sure that's something Lulu would do?" Yuya asked.

"Of course," Yuto admitted. "And you did say Zuzu likes your hair.”

Yuya grinned. "Well yeah," he answered. "She thinks it's my best feature. She's always touching it when we kiss or cuddle."

It was a no-brainer that he knows she loves his hair. Sure, it may not be as elaborately-styled as his counterparts, but it still managed to preserve its perfectly-coiffed appearance, even if it did look somewhat feminine to a few people, which makes it an admirable trait of his for her.

Yuto chuckled at his cousin's happiness. "But calm down," he said. "You need to stop getting excited. You're supposed to stay calm during these events."

"Right," Yuya said. He took a deep breath. "Stay calm. I can do that."

Once he relaxed, he continued picturing the scenario that Yuto was describing. "I think I know what happens next," Yuya said as the dance came to an end. "There's gonna be a moment when the lights shine just right."

"Uh, Yuya?" Zuzu asked.

"And those lights will make her beautiful eyes sparkle," Yuya said, shifting his hand from her own hand to her cheek.

"Yuya...?" Zuzu asked, sounding concerned.

"Then we lean in," Yuya continued, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned in. "And we share a loving-"

"Yuya!"

THUD!

Yuya was snapped out of his fantasy and found himself on the bedroom floor. He shifted his head up to see that Yuto had shoved him onto the floor because he was now getting carried away. "What just happened?" Yuya asked.

Yuto simply groaned as he pressed his fingers against his forehead. "Do I have to remind you that we're the same person?" he asked.

"I don't get it," Yuya said as he stood back up. "You told me to picture it, so I did."

"Exactly," Yuto said. "You imagined a little too much."

Yuto's intention was to guide Yuya on dancing in formal events, but it may have worked a tad bit too well regarding on how it just went down. Despite that, does his cousin now have a general idea on formally dancing with girls?

Yuya's eyes widened. "Wait... That was you?!" he asked, alarmed.

"Yes, I was guiding you on how to dance," Yuto clarified. "I told you to picture the night of the dance so it would feel less weird to you."

"That means I..." Yuya said. He cringed a bit, realizing that what he thought was Zuzu in his mind was actually Yuto. "That would explain why it felt weird."

Yuto nodded in response, which was his way of admitting that it felt rather awkward to him as well when he thought about it. "So do you have an idea of how to dance with a girl?" he asked.

"I think so," Yuya admitted. "But your hands feel too smooth."

Yuto wasn't a Dueltainer in his hometown, so his hands weren't as rough as Yuya's and Zuzu's. He also was given access to the Obsidians' expensive body and hand lotion when he first moved in with them; with the accepted job offer and his first formal party in mind, it was another sign that he was still adapting to high-class life.

"My hands aren't too smooth," Yuto said. "Your hands are too rough."

"Because I use them a lot," Yuya explained. "But aside from that, I think I got the hang of it."

"Good," Yuto said, smiling in satisfaction. "Now to work on your appearance..."

Yuya questioned why he should focus on his appearance because he looked fine, but was told that the Paradise Prep dance was a formal event and there was no way he was attending it with his goggles on his head. He replied that he took those off for Lono's funeral and he knew how everyone always dressed in black for funerals because black symbolized death; in other words, the upcoming dance has no death symbolism.

"Because for a formal event, wearing goggles isn't appropriate," Yuto explained as he took off Yuya's goggles.

Yuya's head suddenly felt bare to him. He has worn those goggles ever since he was only 6 years old. It was practically a trademark to him and the light blue star on the right lens helps others identify him…along with his red and green hair and matching eyes. They also have been a coping mechanism of his to give him reassurance and regained confidence. Why else does he constantly wear them on his head? What if something goes terribly wrong at the dance and he doesn't have them?

Yuto did a double take. "Then again, you might need more work done," he realized.

"But I was planning on wearing my dad's old tux," Yuya explained.

Yuto let out a soft chuckle. "Shay is the only person I know who can pull off tuxes for formal events," he said. "You're going to have to come back to the Obsidians residence with me."

#Arc V Aftermath #yugioh arc v #Yuya Sakaki #Yuto (arc v)

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dreamworksworddump · 7 years

Note

Hello I'm here for the Sheith Royalty + Knight AU

(This was really fun to write. It probably could’ve ended in smut, but I kinda paused it, because you didn’t explicitly ask for it. I can probably finish writing that if you want it. Anyways, thanks for being patient. It takes longer to write these now because my goal is no longer to just finish it, but to end it well. This was 4109 words btw.)

As the youngest of three Princes, Keith could do practically anything that he wanted. It was practically guaranteed that he would never get the crown, so what would it matter if Keith got himself killed in battle, in the name of their country, or in the streets like a beggar, fighting over something as stupid as pride? His father did, apparently. His mother had died in childbirth with him, making him the last royal child that would ever come from his line.

The boy smirks, brown hair falling into his blue eyes. His brown skin is shining with sweat, and his chest heaves with every breath. He’s getting tired, Keith realizes. It’s not like Keith isn’t getting tired too; but for him, this ache in his bones is as familiar as it is welcome. It lets him know that he’s still living, that he still has every reason to finish this.

The boy swings again, his knife creating an arc through the air that completely misses Keith. Keith swings with his left hand, the one holding his knife. The boy dodges it, only to be hit on his pretty face with Keith’s right fist. The boy falls to the ground, and doesn’t get up. He’s won.

The bar watches him warily, smiles displayed wantonly on their faces. Keith stops to grab a mug of beer from one of the observers, and that’s when the boy makes his move. He charges at him, knocking both Keith and the customer to the ground. The customer quickly scurries back and out of the way of their squabble. The boy grabs Keith’s hair and slams his head into the ground, once, twice, before Keith elbows him hard enough to make him let go. He had planned to punch his stomach, but his balance is unsteady, and he ends up toppling them both back to the ground.

The boy sneers. “I’m not gonna let you win.”

Keith doesn’t reply, at least, not verbally.

He holds him by the collar, and punches him again, his fist hitting true in his stomach. It doesn’t slow the boy down for long, as he manages to push Keith off of him, and back onto the floor. He sees the boy pull back his fist, and tries to block his hit.

It doesn’t come.

The boy’s weight is suddenly removed, and the image of his bloody fist replaced with a gloved hand. Keith looks up, and recognises the royal crest on his uniform. He accepts the stranger’s hand, and is pulled up to his feet. The boy is being restrained by the officer’s other hand, Keith notices, and although he’s glaring at him with a look that could kill, he doesn’t resist.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” The officer says disapprovingly. He nods his head at the boy. “You can go. Don’t make me regret it.”

The boy pulls away, and rubs his arm woefully before dashing out of the doors, and back into the rabble of the city. The officer jerks his thumb towards the door. “We should start walking back, sire.”

Keith spits a blob of spit and blood onto the floor and starts walking. “I could’ve handled it myself.”

The officer frowns and follows him out of the bar. “I’m sure you could have, sire, but my purpose is to protect the royal family, which you are a part of.” He speaks the last part in a near whisper, and Keith is glad for his discretion. The last time that Keith’s identity had been found out while he was out in public, his father had forced him to stay in his suites for the better part of a month. While it hadn’t stopped him from sneaking out, it had hindered him and had made it much harder.

Keith leads the way down main street. Merchants are packing up their stalls, and piling their wares into carts to be packed away until the next day. He knows what each one sells and which ones know his secret. These people, these are the ones he’d prefer to be around. They never treat him like glass, ready to break at a moment’s notice. Here, he is equal.

The officer trails behind him silently.

“What’s your name?” Keith asks quietly. Perhaps he can bribe the guard into keeping this to himself. It wouldn’t be the only time that money has saved his ass.

He stands to full attention, garnering the curious looks of the townsfolk. “Takashi Shirogane, sire.”

“What do your friends call you?”

It’s not something that Keith needs to know, or has any right to know, really. It was best not to tangle with those who served you; a well known fact, after his uncle’s affair with the maid servant had been outed to the whole castle. But still, Keith is curious as to if this upright and moral man is human enough to even have a nickname.

“Shiro, Sire.”

Keith leads them past the castle gates to the drainage canal behind the castle. No one ever thinks to secure it, as it looks almost identical to the sewage drain; who but a desperate man would try it?

“Don’t call me ‘Sire’.” Keith says between huffed breaths as he climbs beneath the gate.

Shiro choses to climb over it rather than climb under, as Keith had. He arrives on the other side of the fence with a spotless uniform, while Keith’s clothes are muddied and ripped. “What should I address you as, S-” He cuts himself off with a small smile.

“Call me Keith.” He says as they enter the castle grounds.

OoOoOoOoO

His father rarely makes him come to dinner in the banquet hall. Most of the time, he stays in his suites; out of sight, out of mind. So, it certainly comes as a surprise when Shiro appears at his doorway, a message hovering on his lips, especially so since Shiro is not on his guard roster.

“Yes?” Keith prompts, when Shiro doesn’t say anything. His face is dusted with red that highlight the light silver of the scar running across his face.

“Your father requests your presence at dinner tonight, in approximately one hour.” Shiro says, his eyes fixed on some point behind him.

Keith closes the door. “Thanks.” He says, a little too late.

It’s only then that he realises that his shirt is unbuttoned, and his royal mark, a blue, thumb sized oval above his heart is visible. He closes his shirt, and then unbuttons it fully. He can’t wear peasant clothes to dinner. He sighs and gets dressed properly, before leaving his room. He almost runs into Shiro, who is still standing by the door.

“I am to accompany you to the dinner, S-” He pauses, then corrects his mistake. “Keith.”

Keith pulls at his stiff collar. It’s an annoyingly itchy outfit, and the stupid sleeves aren’t making it any better. He’d happily trade Shiro for his simple tunic and pants, even if they are several sizes too big. “Of course you are.” Keith mutters, straightening up. “My father wouldn’t trust me to walk down the hall by myself.”

“Or perhaps he is afraid of you getting lost.” Shiro replies wryly. Keith snorts.

“Ah yes, that must be it.”

The dining hall’s door looms before them, a huge oak door tall enough for a giant to walk through easily. Keith can hear the quiet chatter of the servants behind it, and the booming voice of his father over them. Keith brushes his hair out of his face, and nods to the doormen, who pull open the doors.

He walks across the hall to his seat, three to the left of his father, only to be told to move.

“Why?” Keith says, as he pushes his seat back in.

His father smiles, and pats the seat next to him. It’s where his brother sits; as the heir to the throne, he gets the honor of sitting beside the king. “Tonight is your night, my son. While you may never rule, you still have every privilege as royalty, and with it, every responsibility.”

Keith sits down, and a servant pushes his chair in. “What does that mean?”

His father doesn’t answer, but instead chooses to take his seat. The grand doors open again, and the lords and ladies of the court stand and bow their heads. Shiro is lost in the crowd. Two women slowly make their way to the king’s table, their unnecessarily fluffy dresses bobbing with each step. Keith recognises the older woman; she’s the queen of one of their allied nations. His drops his gaze to the girl beside her. Her honey brown hair is pulled up, giving the illusion of short hair. Her dress is a pale green, that drips off of her thin shoulders like rain, ending in a skirt that seems to swallow her whole. He remembers her name: Katelyn, or more casually, Katie.

Realization dawns on him.

This isn’t just any dinner; he’s getting betrothed.

His father stands to welcome them. “We welcome you to our humble kingdom, Queen Honoria and Princess Katelyn. Please, take a seat and enjoy the festivities to celebrate the merging of our two kingdoms.”

The Queen nods and smiles cordially, taking the seat to the right of the King. Her daughter sits beside him, where his second brother would normally sit.

“Hi.” The girl says quietly. “It’s nice to meet you, I guess.”

Keith sighs and crosses his arms. His father gives him a look, and he unfolds them. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Princess.” He keeps his gaze in front of him, and searches the peripheral of the room for Shiro. He spots him with the guards on the perimeter of the room.

“Pidge.”

“What?”

“Call me Pidge.” She repeats. “If we’re going to be getting married at some point, we should at least make the most of it. I don’t want this any more than you do.”

Keith relaxes a little. He hadn’t known her well enough to guess that she wouldn’t be the ‘give me a son, now’ kind of chick. His brother’s wife was like that, but then again, his brother actually liked doing the do with women. Inexplicably, his eyes drift back to Shiro. He’s laughing now, saying something to the guard beside him. “So, you won’t mind if we never make children?”

She scrunches up her nose. “I’d prefer it if we didn’t, and I know that you do too. You don’t like the company of the fairer sex.”

Keith starts. “How’d you know?”

She shrugs, and pokes at her chicken. “I don’t like guys like that either. And you keep looking at that guard over there, with the scar and the white hair.”

Keith looks at his plate, and hopes that no one can see the embarrassment on his cheeks. Was he really that obvious? It wasn’t like he was interested in the man; it was just, he was interesting. Shiro was probably how Keith would’ve been if he had’ve been born of a lower rank. It was something that Keith envied, being able to live your life without the scrutiny of the whole world.

Pidge laughs and takes another bite of her chicken. “Gotcha.”

OoOoOoOoOoO

They are set be married in a year, after the second siege of the Galra capital commences. Keith doesn’t mind it so much; at least he knows that it will be a marriage in name only, and that they might actually have a chance of being friends. What Keith does mind, is that his father is putting him on a tighter leash. No more fighting with commoners over stupid slights. No more sneaking out of the castle. Of course, his father knows that this will be impossible to enforce, which has led to this.

Shiro trails behind him as Keith angrily stomps through his suites. Shiro follows him through each room, at first, but after they circle through them twice, he starts to lag. Keith can see the professionalism slowly melt away, as he trails his fingers over the fine silks that cover his bed, and the ornately carved chess pieces displayed haphazardly on his desk. At first he explores discreetly, when he thinks Keith isn’t watching, but he eventually notices that Keith doesn’t care.

He reaches up and pulls a sword from display, and swings it experimentally, before noticing that Keith has moved on to the next room. He jogs and catches up. Keith turns, and pulls his sword from his sheath. “You don’t have to follow me everywhere, Shiro. It’s not like I can escape with you so close by.”

Shiro backs away. “Sorry.” He raises his sword. “I know that you can’t leave, and fight like you want to, but perhaps you’d like to try your best against someone actually trained in the ways of the sword?”

Keith turns and raises a brow. No matter who he had asked, the guards refused to fight him; harming a royal, no matter the circumstances was a death sentence. He wonders if Shiro knows.

“Are you not afraid of being sentenced to death?”

Shiro lowers his sword. “Are you planning to kill me?”

“No.”

Shiro lifts his sword again. “Then, no. I feel safe in your swordfighting abilities and my own; neither of us will be injured enough for death to be required.”

Keith grins. “Great.”

OoOoOoOoO

Keith gets used to Shiro’s presence. He’s not as bad as others could of been, and even lets him out occasionally to experience the town (no fighting, outside of their own sword fights anyways). The date of his marriage is growing nearer, and with it, sentiments of war. The Galra empire is growing, and with it, the resistance is dying. The numerous guards that populate the castle are disappearing, and being sent to war. Many of them don’t return.

It is one month from Keith’s wedding when Shiro is sent away.

No one even bothers to tell Keith; he finds out himself, when he draws his sword and finds a note wrapped around the blade.

Keith,

I’ve been reassigned today. Your father himself chose with whom I will ride. Your bethrothed’s brother, who calls himself ‘Matt’ insisted on fighting, and while his mother has given in, he is not to fight without protection. They say that I know how to deal with a flighty and stubborn Prince. Perhaps I do. I will do my best to protect him; though it will be you that I fight for. I know that you are bad at understanding the subtle, but I must urge you to take this as you will.

When I return, and I promise that I will, you will have been married to Princess Katelyn. I do hope that you get along well, and that you will trust me to protect your family as I have protected you.

I will think of you, when I am in low moral and I will write you, when there is a reprise in battle.

-Your knight, Shirogane

Keith’s first instinct is to crumple the paper, and toss it into the fire, but he knows that burning the words won’t make them any less true. He drops the note, and raise his sword. He doesn’t know what he attacked, not until the feathers stop flying around him, and he finds his sword immobile in the grasp of the thick curtains.

“My Prince?” A voice asks hesitantly.

He turns and drops the sword to the ground with a clatter. In the doorway, Princess Katelyn stands, clutching a stack of books in her arms.

“I should leave.” She says, backing away. He dashes across the room and grabs her arm.

“Stay. I was having a bad day. It’s not your fault, or your problem.”

Katie- sorry, Pidge- still looks like she wants to leave, but she lets him lead her through his bedroom to the second chamber. It holds another bed, one that is relatively untouched, as well as a desk, and a bookshelf of unread books.

He sits on the bed, and she sits beside him. They sit in silence for a moment, but as Pidge starts to open a book, he finds the words to say. “I heard your brother was sent to war.”

“He volunteered.” She mutters angrily. “He didn’t have to, but he volunteered anyways.”

“He has Shiro with him, at least.” Keith offers.

Pidge shakes her head. “Shiro may fight with Matt, but he’s fighting for you.”

Keith stands up in exasperation. The plush silk comforter slides lower on the bed. “He said the same damn thing! What is that even supposed to mean?”

Pidge stares at him like he’s an idiot. “You’re not good at understanding nuanced words, huh?” Keith doesn’t reply. She sighs and lays back on the bed, hands interlocked behind her head. “He likes you, dumbass. And you like him too.”

Keith sputters. “I-I’m not a homosexual.”

She shrugs. “I prefer female company, you prefer male. No big deal, considering that no one’s watching. My brother gets away with it all the time.”

Keith blanches. “He does?”

Pidge sits up. “And you can too. It’s not like I’m gonna stop you.”

He blames Pidge for what happened after. After all, he had never thought about Shiro before, at least not in that way. He had never imagined what it feel like to knot his fingers in Shiro’s hair, and to be pushed against a wall, hands eventually forced over his head as they press their mouths together in a messy attempt at a kiss. Keith blushes and tries to forget.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Shiro returns from war after their marriage. Pidge sleeps in her own bed, and Keith sleeps in his. Her lady-in-waiting often shares her bed, and it is rare that they are separated, except for when they are required to give the illusion of a happily married couple. Keith doesn’t mind; he likes Pidge as a friend who can actually deal with his rebellious nature.

Keith isn’t told about Shiro; he finds out on his own, when he meets Shiro in the halls.

“Excuse me.” Shiro mumbles, not meeting Keith’s eyes. He tries to walk past, but Keith catches his arm and stops him. Except his arm isn’t right.

Keith drops it, and Shiro looks up, shame evident in the way he looks at him. “Shiro, I-I didn’t know you were back.”

“I came back yesterday, sire.” He pulls his sleeve lower over his arm, the one that felt strange. “They demoted me after Matt went missing. Their kingdom has no male heirs now.”

“Does Pidge know?” Keith asks. Pidge had been close to him, that much he knew. It would devastate her to know that he was missing, and most likely dead.

Shiro shakes his head. “Her mother ordered me to tell her. I was on my way there now.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Keith says.

Shiro nods, but doesn’t say anything in reply. Keith respects that; Shiro had always known when to shut up, and Keith had eventually learned when to do the same for him. But as they reached the threshold of Keith’s chambers, Keith frowned. “Do you still feel the same now, as you did when you wrote that letter?”

Shiro doesn’t look at him as he pushes the door open. “That’s irrelevant. You’re married.”

Keith doesn’t have a chance to say anything else, as Shiro strides towards Pidge’s room. The candles are still burning, even though it’s late, and a collection of books are spread out on the comforter. She barely glances up as they enter, and doesn’t acknowledge them except to send her lady away. As the door closes behind her, Pidge closes her book, her finger stuck between it’s pages to hold her place.

“Did you finally decide to tell him?” She asks Keith with a mischievous grin.

Shiro doesn’t react beyond a small smile, which quickly disappears as Keith replies. “I tried to. I guess I’m not the only one who’s not good at understanding the nuanced. But that’s not why I brought him here.” Keith turns to Shiro.

He steps forward, and kneels beside her bed. Pidge looks mildly concerned; she had attempted to get rid of that submissive behavior in her staff. “Your brother is missing, my lady. I was assigned to be his guard, but we were separated after we were captured. The last time that I saw him was before I was sent into the Arena.” He looks up for the first time, and meets her faltering gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro barely has time to catch her as she tumbles to the ground. Keith can do nothing but watch as she sobs, tears staining Shiro’s shirt. As she clutches at his shirt, his sleeve rides up, and Keith realises what was wrong earlier.

His arm, one that used to hold the hilt of a sword as they fought across his bedroom, one that he had imagined holding him close for the most part of the past six months, is no longer there. It’s been replaced with a strange contraption. It’s metal is smooth, except for where it is welded, and he can hear it now; It’s ticking. His wrist and elbow are covered in panels that slide as Pidge lifts his hand.

“They did this to you?” She sniffs.

Shiro nods. “I lost my arm in the Arena. They gave me this as a replacement.”

Pidge pulls away, and her dress is wrinkled. “My mother wants me to sentence you to death. She wants me to blame you.”

Keith flowers. How dare she attempt to kill his guard, who was stolen from him in the first place, to fight in a war that wasn’t even his. Pidge notices Keith’s look, and continues. “I’m not. It’s not your fault.” She looks at Keith, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, and he wonders if she will ever get over him. “You two should enjoy it while it lasts. Don’t waste time playing around, okay?”

Keith nods, and hugs her. He can’t help but feel how small she is, how little there is of her. He pulls away, and leaves, Shiro following him back into his own room. He tries to head for the door, and Keith doesn’t try to stop him. “I love you, okay?”

Shiro stops, but doesn’t turn around. “You have a wife.”

“And she has a Lady-in-waiting! We’re not exactly trying to produce an heir here!” Keith yells.

Shiro closes the door and turns around, his arms crossed. “You’re a Prince. I’m a soldier, a mere guard who failed to protect another Prince.”

“Like hell if I care. No, wait. I’m your Prince, your superior.” Keith starts. He’s unsure if Shiro will even care that he’s pulling rank. “I order you to stay, to talk about this at least.”

Shiro doesn’t respond, and it only makes Keith angrier. He’s been waiting for Shiro for so long, has only seen him in his dreams, only heard his voice through the few letters that he sent before he disappeared. He’s not going to let Shiro throw this away over something as stupid as their status.

“Please.” He says, his voice breaking.

Shiro turns the lock, and steps over the scattered books and clothing on the floor. He presses one hand to the small of Keith’s back, the other grasping his face. And then the moment that he had been dreaming of ever since he left happened. Shiro leans in, and their lips meet. Shiro feels hot, Keith thinks, like fire on his lips. And then it changes, becomes more feral and less sweet.

Keith’s hands gradually move, from being pressed against his chest, to his shoulders, and then to his hair, to get knotted and tangled in. Shiro moans in surprise, and Keith pulls again, and again until they break away, panting for breath. The brief reprise ends quickly, as Keith pulls him to the bed. Shiro has him pinned beneath his weight, but Keith isn’t crushed by it. It’s comforting, he thinks, as Shiro nips at his throat. Keith tangles his fingers in his hair again, and pulls Shiro’s lips back to Keith’s.

Suddenly, the door slams, surprising the both of them. They both turn, to find the door to Pidge’s room shut tight. Keith hadn’t realised that they had left it open. He blushes as Pidge calls through the door. “At least close the door before going at each other like dogs in heat!”

Shiro opens his mouth to say something, but instead devolves into laughter. Keith presses another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Sure thing.”

#voltron #voltron fanfiction #voltron shiro #shiro #takashi shirogane #shiro/keith

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fallleaves4life-blog · 6 years

Text

First Cheat

The next week flew by without a hitch. Yoongi's schedule was absolutely packed, morning till night with appointments from all of his usual clients and a few new ones. But there wasn't another one from Hoseok. Yoongi wasn't sure if he should be happy or let down. Besides that, everything was normal. The only thing that was bugging him was something.. a bit more confusing.

Each time a client touched him, bugs and millipedes crawled over his skin. It felt horrible and disgusting, but he couldn't understand why. He'd been doing this job for years and it hadn't happened before. Clients that he usually looked forward to were falling beneath the mark. It was kind of sad to watch, actually. Maybe they were having a bad week.

The next Sunday, his week's schedule was sent out to him. It would be another busy week, not only for him either. Clients all over the company seemed to be extra horny this past and this coming week. That would just mean extra dough all around. It didn't help that the holidays were right around the corner, at least they felt like they were, even if they were still a few months away.

That didn't matter though, because he had an appointment that night he couldn't be late for. Sunday appointments were always a big deal for the company, the exact reason why, though, was a mystery. Maybe the boss was religious, so he saw those having sex on Sunday as the really nasty ones. Though Yoongi’s past experience with the boss threw that thought out the window.

The meeting tonight was supposed to be at 8 o'clock sharp. Yoongi was already waiting in front of the address he'd been told wearing a baggy black sweater and skinny black jeans, definitely the warmest outfit he'd been provided that week. He had no idea who the client was, although as the minutes ticked off towards 8:10, he began to wish he'd asked.

When the clock hit 8:23, Yoongi went inside the cafe and ordered himself a large coffee, grabbing a handful of sugar packets. He didn't sit inside the cafe but sat outside at one of the cute iron tables they had for customers. He'd been up all day because of an early appointment, and a late one last night meant he didn't get much sleep the night before. In two minutes, he was halfway done with the drink. As he was finished, a man sat across from him and made him thankful he'd swallowed the last of the drink, or else he would've spat it out at Hoseok's sudden appearance.

The other laughed at his face. "What's with the face, Yoongi? Didn't expect me?" His voice took on the usual condescending tone, but it made Yoongi relax a little rather than rile him up like the last time.

He smirked at the other. "Don't act like I would be expecting you. I don't know which clients I'm meeting unless I ask my makeup artist."

Hoseok raised an eyebrow at Yoongi as he shifted his position in the wrought iron chairs, and Yoongi took the opportunity to look over the other. Every other time he's met with Hoseok, he'd been wearing a suit, but today he was wearing casual clothes: distressed skinny jeans, white shirt with colorful denim and red jacket, and, with the other's leg propped up by his knee, he could see red and black shoes, maybe basketball but he wasn't that familiar with those brands. His redder brown hair was styled down, but he looked good with it.

He was so busy checking the other out that he hadn't heard him speak. Yoongi looked up with a slight flush on his face, glad that the night didn't offer much light to see it. "I'm sorry, what'd you say?"

"It's okay, I can be very distracting." Hoseok smirked at him, and Yoongi felt his face get hot again. "I asked if you had your own makeup artist, and if they were a worker at your company."

Yoongi nodded, playing with his empty coffee cup absentmindedly. "Minki isn't my personal makeup artist but he's my favorite, so I made sure he's the only one who ever does my makeup. He has like one assistant at the company, but he prefers to do everything himself. He was an escort, but not anymore. And yes, Minki is Jonghyun's boyfriend." The look on Hoseok's face made him feel he should add that last bit.

"This is the same Minki you and your friend were talking about at the club, correct?"

Yoongi looked up at him at those words, eyes wide as confusion slid onto his face. "We did? Why were we talking about Minki at the club?"

Hoseok raised an eyebrow as well. "How can you not remember? You weren't that drunk when we were talking." A shrug from the escort dismissed the question and caused the rich man to sigh. "The way he was brought up was when you mentioned the company record for the longest session, which belonged to Minki and Jonghyun. I'm assuming that was when he was still an escort?"

Yoongi scratched his scalp as he nodded his head, eyes squinted in thought. "And who brought up the record?"

"Seokjin. Something about 'coming out'."

Yoongi giggled a little despite himself. "That's not what that means but I appreciate you trying. It's Seokjin's code for fucking." He laughed at the other's almost horrified face. "It's not that weird once you've lived with him as long as I have."

"How long have you lived with him?"

Yoongi was about to answer but stopped just short. He raised an eyebrow cautiously. "Why are you asking me about my personal life, Jung? Didn't you make this appointment to get something out of me?" His voice sounded as nonchalant as it could be, with the past week of working getting him back into the groove of covering his emotions, but inside he ached.

"By get something you mean have sex?" Hoseok spoke like he usually did, like he didn't care. But he almost sounded offended. Yoongi didn't answer. "If I said I just wanted to see you, what would you think?"

Yoongi's eyes flicked towards the others, only meaning for a glance, but Hoseok caught and held his gaze intensely. Like he was reading him. He gulped back to clear the sudden thickness in his throat, but it didn't fully leave, so when he spoke, his voice came out softer than intended. "I'd think you were lying to make me feel better. But that doesn't make sense, because you shouldn't care how someone like me feels. So I'd say you were lying to further the game."

The silence that settled was uncomfortable, the eye contact only unnerving him further. Even when Hoseok stood from his seat, he held Yoongi's eyes in a trap. He moved from the chair across to the chair next to him, his arm resting on the table next to his own. "Why would I be playing a game with you?"

Yoongi's looked down at his hand next to Hoseok's tanner one. He felt more naked now in front of those black eyes than he ever had in his career, even each time he'd been in the boss' office. "What'd I tell you about personal questions?" His voice came out almost broken, and he hated himself for it.

There was a hand on his chin lifting his head. His eyes met Hoseok's again. He was so much closer than he remembered him to be. "Yoongi." His voice was way too quiet. And really deep. "I have less than an hour and a half left on my time, but I'd rather take the time to learn about you. Whether that be your mind or body."

Yoongi gulped, fear inexplicably running down his body and making his body shake. "Hoseok- let go of me please..." The man raised an eyebrow and released his chin, Yoongi taking a deep breath after. "Do me a favor and never, ever, do that again."

Hoseok looked surprised. "Is that what you want-"

"Goddamnit, Hoseok, it's not about what I want! It isn't supposed to be!" Yoongi stood as he yelled. The outburst was a shock to the both of them, but Yoongi was too shaken to stop. "You pay me to do whatever the fuck you want! It's not about me! This whole system is supposed to be about the clients! So stop asking questions and stop trying to talk to me! All that my job description says is I'm supposed to make the client happy, and it has never been the other way around!"

Despite Yoongi's shaky breathing, there was only silence. Hoseok didn't look surprised anymore. He only had a kind of neutral expression, with his lips downturned into a frown. Yoongi sat back down, embarrassed about the outburst but not really feeling sorry for what he said.

"So I make you happy."

Yoongi looked up at the other, eyes wide in shock but it soon turned to annoyance. "That's seriously the only thing you heard?"

The other shook his head, a small smile on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye. "No I heard everything, but that's the only thing I care about at the moment. Now-" he leaned forward on his elbows. "Let's get to my house and have sex in my bed again. I think I prefer you there over any other place."

Yoongi's face flushed a little, but he was smiling seductively at the other. "What're you waiting for, Jung? An invitation?"

Sex with Hoseok was the best he'd ever had.

Yoongi lay wrapped in the silk and bamboo infused sheets, too hot to be bare and too cold to be covered. He wasn't asleep, but his body felt exhausted. He hadn't been drinking enough Gatorade recently or eating very well for that matter. Maybe his body was finally forcing him to rest. He didn't even know where Hoseok was. He could be lying next to him and not know. But back to the sex.

God, it was always so good.

Hoseok held him firm enough to leave baby bruises but never pain, left makes dark enough to mean something but faint enough they wouldn't stain his body. And Yoongi felt exhausted and satisfied at the same time. A hand ghosted over his side, fingertips brushing the outlines of his curves. He shivered, and a soft voice whispered close to him.

"Sorry, I thought you were asleep."

He cracked an eye open and saw Hoseok beside him, naked and glowing. He still looked so handsome and sexy, even sweating and still catching his breath. Yoongi smiled softly and turned over more to face him. "It's fine, I should get up anyway. Don't want to get in trouble again."

Hoseok frowned softly and shook his head, a hand brushing hair out of the escort's face. "He won't do it again."

"You can't control that, Hoseok." He sighed softly, still not moving. His body really had given up.

Hoseok shook his head. "I'll make sure he doesn't. I promise that."

Yoongi shook his head and willed his body to move and sit up, but it wouldn't budge. He'd pushed himself too hard. "Don't make that promise, Hoseok. You can't keep it." He tried to make his voice sound stern, but it came out only tired.

Hoseok leaned forward, kissing Yoongi. He was too tired to pull away, not that he wanted to anyway. His lips were soft like he used a lot of chapstick and he kissed him with only emotion, not lust. When he pulled away, Yoongi was silent. "I'm making this promise to you. I'll take care of it."

"No offense Hoseok, but my boss is probably way richer than you, and most likely way more powerful. You can't do much." Yoongi smiled sadly, not wanting to give up yet. "If you want to sue, he has us sleep with lawyers regularly as payment for keeping him untouchable. If you want to bribe him, he doesn't need the money."

Hoseok kissed Yoongi's forehead, the soft lips brushing his skin and his fingertips brushed through his hair. If he wasn't being so sweet, it'd probably feel way more annoying than it actually was. "Don't worry Yoongi, I'll take care of it. You can rest now."

Yoongi wanted to protest, but the gentle hands in his hair pulled him down into the bed. His eyes fluttered a little before closing, his body curling up slightly into Hoseok. There was a weight on his arm, and suddenly his head was in what could only be Hoseok's chest. And he was so tired from the past week, he couldn't even say anything as thanks before falling asleep to the sound of Hoseok's breathing.

#bts suga #bts fanfction #bts jhope #bts fic #bts #jung hoseok #jhope #suga #fan fic writing #writers #nu’est #choi minki #ren #jr

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