promuseboxing | open smut post

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nsfw,
open post

open smut post

OPEN POST
-my muselist is here
-mention who you want in the subject line
-leave me a prompt/picture/whatever
-???
-profit

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[So upon research, we never actually GOT to the smut part of this. Let's fix that, y?]

[Heero Yuy was a purely logical creature. That's what everyone seemed to assume of him, when brevity and focus was the first impression he made. It was also an astonishingly incorrect assumption, as anyone who spoke to him frankly for a decent length of time would quickly learn. Too often, people assumed that to cut the frills from interactions equaled a robotic response, and that expressiveness was the epitome of being human. Heero had found, frankly, that such obfuscation was pointless. He was perfectly capable of acknowledging emotions without revealing them.]

[That didn't mean he always had control over them, however. Like right now, with Relena, almost in the nude, hands on his stiffened shoulders and pressing ever closer to him. He found in fact that he had a range of emotions running through him- Fear. Excitement. Apprehension. Shock. He wasn't sure any of them were being particularly useful at the moment, however.]

[Heero cleared his throat, focusing on little mental instructions at a time. School your face. Ignore the physical sensations below the shoulders. Eyes on her face. Don't make assumptions.] And... you wish to thank me by greeting me in one of my shirts?

[Sometimes, stating the obvious could easily read as sarcasm. Right now, it was purely avoidance. He had an irrational flare of survival instinct, like being caught undercover.]

[ Someone with less experience with Heero would probably take his tone at face value and back off. But backing away from him has never been Relena's strong suit and this time is no different. Admittedly things played out a little differently in her head but she knows that no plan never survives first contact with her boyfriend.

Sometimes the direct approach is the only one that really works. She stays in his space because he has yet to push her out of it. ]

I want to thank you by making you feel good. I thought being dressed like this might help get my point across.

[ She doesn't push, just lets her fingers skim across his shoulders lightly. And while it might not be a good idea to give him an escape route, she offers him one all the same. ]

If you don't want to, I can go get dressed. I just wanted to surprise you with something nice.

[This was... unexpected. Different. A challenge. An opportunity. His first instinct of taking the escape route is quashed, not without a moment of consideration, and he glances down to the mug still steaming in his hand.]

[With deliberately paced movements, he turns back toward the kitchen entryway and set the mug down on the nearest counter, turning back to Relena with a more shuttered version of his previous apprehension, joined this time by seriousness. He raises both hands gently to her shoulders and then, after a moment of consideration, rests them on her waist, still fully over the shirt.]

You're sure. [It wasn't quite a question, but the hesitation waited for an answer.]

[ She waits to see how things play out, knowing he needs that moment to decide whether he's going to take her up on her offer or not. And when he finally returns it's a relief that she didn't make a fool of herself for nothing. ]

Of course I am.

[ If she wasn't sure she wouldn't be standing there without panties on trying to seduce him. ]

Are you?

[~~mission accepted.~~]

[Heero's eyes soften, although no less serious than before, as the question is turned on him. He gives that no small amount of consideration as well- was he sure? ...Yes, the voice of reason within him said. Was he prepared? Well, that was another question entirely. There were not many things Heero Yuy was ill-equipped for, but perhaps this was one of the most glaring holes in his breadth of human experience. Not that he didn't know how it worked in the mechanical sense, nor totally devoid of instinct, but...]

I'm sure. [He says, and then adds with a note of apology devoid of sarcasm] But may require --guidance.

[His hands moved slowly from her hips, steadily to take her hands clasped between them, and drew them to his mouth, laying an instinctual press of lips.]

[ Time has literally lost its meaning since the battle against Duncan and The Platinum Priestess began. Everything moved so fast, and yet once it was all over and debriefings were initiated by the military brass (under The Commander's supervision, of course), it feels like Kyle has been walking dead for days. The only thing that's kept him upright is Spooky's healing touch—More specifically his kiss. Nothing hurts, but those debriefings took it out of everyone on the team. He can feel it in all of them as they scatter to the four winds to lick their wounds and center themselves.

Amanda said they should count themselves lucky they got away in forty-eight hours at all. Probably thanks to the minors on their team, she assumed. Kyle will take what he can get; they'll be back again soon for more sessions, but for now he's home. And with company.

Spooky's been over to his apartment more times than he can count, although now it suddenly feels different. He's felt things inside Spooks that he thought only existed in his frayed psyche. That's made him feel rather dependent on him right now, almost inseparable as they both figure out what it all means. ]

Umm, you want anything to drink? Water or something?

[ It seems such a weird and mundane question to ask after everything that's happened, but... ]

(( we'll have to NPC Wash a bit for this set-up, but I think it will work ))

There was one major down side to faking one's death, and that was that in the time after, one had to continue to keep up appearances.

It was a major feat and stroke of luck when York had eventually connected with his old friend Agent Illinois. He found the address one day during an unrelated mercenary run, and had made a vow to himself to make his way back there once circumstances allowed. Which was what he ended up doing, showing up at Illinois's beach shack one day, duffel slung over his shoulder.

York and Illinois had never made a connection beyond friendship in the time they lived there in the shack together. The two of them were close, though, and when Illinois randomly disappeared one day, York never even considered the possibility that it had something to do with their history in Project Freelancer. He had a few clues, though, and went off on his own, investigating the disappearance to the best of his ability.

After a while, after York had run into dead end after dead end, he gave up, returning to the place that had been his home for the last few years. It seemed wrong now to live here without Illinois being present, but what was he going to do? Every lead he had followed had run dry. He stayed up late that night, drinking, staring at the picture Illinois had always had on his wall. York had often spent time studying the picture, but in those times he had been looking at the image of him with his arm slung over Carolina's shoulders. Not today, though. Today he was looking at Illinois.

He drank too much and he stayed up too late, but eventually his melancholy won out and sleep overtook him. Awakening eventually the next day, he took some headache pills and fed himself what he could manage to stomach before passing out in bed again.

The next time he awoke, something seemed different. There was noise—footsteps, and the sound of the front door opening. York arose, pulling on the ODST armor he had procured at some point in the past after faking his death. He had a strong sense, somehow, that whoever had come after Agent Illinois was now here to get him, and he wasn't going to go down without a fight. After getting into his armor, he pulled a weapon and listened to the sounds in the front room at his bedroom door. Whoever was inside there was talking. A man and a woman.

York burst into the room, gun at the ready. "Freeze, asshole!"

[ This wasn't Spooky's first time getting debriefed by the military, and it sucked as much as ever. Maybe sucked even more than usual because even though he was physically better thanks to his magic healing him, deep down a part of him feels scraped raw.

He died. He was dead. Legitimately dead. Until Kyle pulled him back with fire.

When everyone was finally released he ended up sticking with Kyle, barely even thinking about how they made the decision almost at the same moment. Neither of them wanted to be alone. And now he's standing in Kyle's apartment, hands in his pockets and feeling more out of place than he ever has. Maybe because before they were just bros hanging out. Now they're... something else. Labels are weird. ]

Nah, dude. I kind of just wanna lie and maybe sleep for a few years. Don't tell me you aren't tired, they barely let us take a nap during debrief.

I dunno how I'm still standing. [ It's in agreement with Spooky. He, too, feels hollowed out by this experience. ] I'm sure as soon as I sit that'll be it for me.

My bed's ready for the crashing.

[ It's not particularly clean or made up; although, that's never stopped either of them before. ]

You sure you don't need anything, though?

Hunting down the surviving Freelancers only to come up empty handed time after time was starting to wear Carolina down. Yes, they were all highly trained operatives but for so many to disappear without leaving any real clues to where they might have gone... It felt wrong. They only found Illinois because of the clues left behind in all of York's stories from when they'd hang out. All he'd ever wanted was to enjoy his life after he was done with the Project. A shack with plenty of spiced rum on an island chain and a little red sailboat out in the water. Even after spending only a little time there it was easy enough to see that Illinois had found a little slice of paradise to settle down on.

She couldn't help but think that it must have been nice to know how to relax so easily, to be able to build a life outside of the fight. Their down-time on the moon had only really emphasized that the quiet life hadn't suited her at all.

After inspecting the rest of the island Carolina and Wash turned their attention to the shack. It was a small place, just enough for someone to live simply. Except... Carolina couldn't help noticing a few things that felt out of place. Two stools at the little bar that was stocked with Illinois' favorite spiced rum and a brand of beer that she remembered he wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Doubles of items that a man living the quiet life on his own wouldn't need multiples of.

"I think that Illinois had a roommate," She said as she picked her way through the kitchen. And then little details started to jump out at her. A half empty glass on the counter. Dirty plates in the sink that looked fresh. Someone was here recently. "I'm going to take a look in the bedroom. Can you see if you can find anything that might tell us who the other person living here might be."

Of course that plan went to hell when the bedroom door flew open before she could get there, her rifle coming up aimed at the new variable in all this. "Put. The gun. Down. We're just looking for Agent Illinois," She said, mind racing as she debated trying to run the bubble shield. She was too close to the roommate to be protected from his fire but she could keep Wash from getting shot. Of course she hadn't run that enhancement since she'd lost Epsilon. "My name is Agent Carolina, this is-"

"Carolina maybe we shouldn't introduce ourselves to the crazy guy..."

"Wash, shut up." Something was bothering her. The voice, angry and shouty as it was, sounded almost familiar.

If York hadn't spent so much time on the run, needing to watch his back at every turn, he would have dropped his gun in his surprise. As it is, his stance as he points the gun at the two of them goes a bit slack before he tenses again, raising the gun slightly higher.

"Carolina," he says, not able to keep a tremolo of hurt out of his voice. "I saw you in the news. I didn't even know you were alive until then."

He takes a small step out of the bedroom doorway, trying to parse whether he should be suspicious, whether he should be afraid, or what. It's times like these he misses Delta fiercely. Delta would be able to put the pieces together swiftly. Delta would know. He pokes the end of his gun in her direction before glancing at Wash and then back at her.

"What do you want? What happened to Illinois? Where is he?"

Wash, meanwhile, is not to be undone, raising his own weapon in caution. But his body language is far more uncertain. "It can't be," is what he says.

It only takes hearing him say her name for the realization to hit her. York. It should have been impossible, Wash had told her about destroying his armor when his recovery beacon had gone off. She had his lighter tucked into the storage compartment like a talisman to remind her not to fuck up like that ever again.

A part of her wants to be angry, though it's quickly squashed down by the guilt that she was the one to play dead first.

"Seems you were better about avoiding the spotlight than me," She says, carefully thumbing the safety on her gun before setting it down. Next was the helmet, dropped onto the floor. If York felt like shooting her there was no way to stop him.

"Carolina, are you sure-"

"It's fine, Wash. Sometimes you need to have a little faith." She says with a faint smile. They were Epsilon's words but they felt right. There's an ache in her chest knowing that York has been alive all this time but there isn't time for that now. Push it down, deal with things one step at a time. She can still use her speed boost to tackle him if he looks ready to fire.

"We've been looking for former freelancers. They're... we're all going missing. We came looking for Illinois because we were hoping to get to him first."

There's a long, long pause then—probably long enough to make the two of them nervous—with York pointing his gun at her, and Wash pointing his gun at York, before York finally relents and slowly lowers the gun to his side. He doesn't realize until he goes to lift his helmet off that he's trembling. He hopes it's not noticeable. But it probably is noticeable the way he struggles to pull his helmet off, the way it seems like he's trying to get it off just to be able to breathe.

"God..."

It's all he can manage. She's still beautiful, still gorgeous, even after all these years have gone by. He walks the rest of the way over to her and raises a hand like he's going to cup her under the chin, but he doesn't do it. Doesn't quite bring his hand close enough to do something like that. Isn't really standing close enough for that, not quite, because he still doesn't know. He doesn't even know what he doesn't know, he's sure of it.

Seeing his face for the first time in years is like a punch to the stomach. For so long the only thing she thought was left of York was the lighter and the personal logs Epsilon had pulled from Freelancer's files. They're both older now and the anger that burned through her for so long back in the project is gone, leaving just a tired woman behind.

"York, I'm sorry I didn't trust you when I had the chance, I..." She shakes her head. "I just want you to know I'm sorry. For everything."

It feels unreal, being able to apologize to York after so long. Carolina had turned the words over in her head time and again on sleepless nights when all she could think about was how she might have fixed things. She'd never thought that she'd have this chance.

Wash finally lowers his gun, realizing he's being utterly ignored. "Maybe I should just, uh..." He backs up a step. "I'll be outside."

York doesn't even glance in Wash's direction. His eyebrows had gone up when Carolina apologized. His hand lowers as he finishes approaching her.

"I... I didn't think you'd say something like that," he says as Wash leaves and closes the door behind him. "I honestly don't expect you to take responsibility for it, like... Well, I never actually told you anything about what I was actually doing, you know? It was stupid of me to expect you to trust me just because of..."

He pauses and lets out a rueful little chuckle, humorless in tone.

"I was going to say 'what we had' but I think what we had wasn't much like what I thought it was at the time."

When Wash retreats she barely notices and can't bring herself to feel too badly about it. He won't go far and he knows that this is something she needs. Instead her eyes stay locked on York, trying to swallow around the feeling of her heart in her throat.

"A few years ago I wouldn't have," She says honestly. "I was out of control." All that anger, the desperation to be the best had turned her into a monster. "It took me a long time to realize just how out of control I was." It had taken Wash holding a gun to her head to drive that point home. And even then it had taken nearly dying for the lesson to really sink in.

"I took a lot of things for granted back then, including you. I thought... someday when-" When her father wasn't a specter hanging over her head. "When the Director wasn't watching constantly I could finally..." She trails off, shaking her head. "By the time I realized how wrong I was it was too late."

"Don't feel guilty, Carolina. You didn't know, and you couldn't have, not with the way I went about things." He still remembers her tone of voice when she accused him of deserting. She was sincerely distressed that he was turning on the organization, which was in part also him turning on her.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of her since the conversation started. He's drinking her in. She's aged, of course, with it having been a few, very stressful years, but she is still radiant with her bright green eyes and red hair. He closes his eyes briefly, as though to check whether he's memorized her new appearance, then opens them.

"I know back during the Project you wanted to put off any like...official relationship stuff. And I totally understood! But I also pushed things a lot, and I don't want it to seem like I'm pushing now, but..."

He shakes his head a little.

"Okay, listen. I know this is our first time seeing each other in a hell of a long time, and I know we never had an official 'thing' to begin with, and I know you used to get upset when I pushed your boundaries, and that's one thing I've been thinking a hell of a lot since I heard you were alive. I don't want to push. I think about that all the time and I think I deserved it every time you got on my case about it. So...yeah."

He chuckles a little, embarrassed.

"This is a lot of words to ask if I can kiss you, isn't it?"

There's so much she wants to say, a thousand apologies she still needs to make because everything that happened to their team was on her. Even as she stands there listening to him ramble, close enough to reach out and touch him it's hard to believe he's right there in front of her. She hasn't heard his voice in months, not since she swore off listening to his logs when she realized how easily it led her to a dark place. After losing Epsilon she couldn't do it anymore. It was easier to lock them away along with Church's last message to her. All of her ghosts kept boxed away where she couldn't chase them.

Except now one of them is right there in front of her and something in her twists.

Before York can even finishing asking to kiss her she's beaten him to the punch. One hand comes up to touch his cheek, the fabric of her gloves too thick to let her feel the scar spreading across his skin. It isn't perfect by any measure, not with so much armor between them. But it's a kiss she never thought she'd get again and that makes it worth every single imperfection.

She shocks him when she reaches for him, and when she goes in for the kiss he trails off talking and lets her press in. There's a moment where he thinks he must be hallucinating this entire encounter—it must be wishful thinking—and then he decides that even if it is, he needs to make the most of it. His arms go around her and he lets out a little hum and kisses her enthusiastically in return, letting her guide the pressure and depth of the kiss. He doesn't want to tread on any boundaries she's still clinging to, after all.

[ As far and few between as it is, Yuuri more than enjoys his time with Phichit when they're together. There's always something about it that seems to keep his anxiety at a minimum, finding it so much easier to open up to him about things he would never admit to anyone (himself too), and even in those rare moments that they don't talk, sometimes sitting side-by-side or occasionally wandering around looking at things or visiting places, he doesn't find himself overwhelmed with so many thoughts that he clams up and forgets exactly what it is they're doing. Sometimes, instead, Yuuri would find himself thinking about pressing just a little closer so their shoulders touch or their fingers brush, and he'd feel the heat surface in his face at the prospect of being daring enough to drag Phichit somewhere private to kiss him.

He thinks about that now, one of those rare moments where Yuuri had come to see him in the off-season, and currently, they're crammed together on Phichit's bed, huddled over his phone as they scroll through some of the other skaters' Instagrams. It's easier to keep track of what others are doing through social media, and at first, it had held Yuuri's interest well enough. His own - which they had looked at first - has been sort of lackluster lately, trying to avoid it when he can and sometimes posting the occasional picture of a cute dog, but for some reason, he always manages to forget how much Phichit loves this. He's good at it too; Yuuri's selfie game is very sub-par in comparison. Of course, about half an hour into the conversation, Yuuri's concentration disappears, and he finds himself zoning out just a little.

Rather than look at the phone, he's staring at Phichit's hands and the soft outline of his face from the side, a bit of it obscured by the fall of his hair over the rim of his glasses, but it doesn't take away from the fact he's always thought his friend was handsome. Generally nice, upbeat... So much more than what Yuuri could be, he's sure. Everything sort of circles around and around, aware of where their thighs are pressed together now, and Phichit's in the middle of saying something when Yuuri tilts forward and presses their lips together. Sort of. His own catch the corner of Phichit's mouth, a very sloppy rendition of a surprise kiss that had nothing to do with trying to shut him up and more to do with the fact that Yuuri just wanted to do it, and he fumbles over himself trying to pull away. ]

S–sorry! [ Please just let him die right there. If he could melt through the floor, that would also be a good way to escape this without explaining anything. ]

[ The times when Yuuri came to visit him during the off season were some of Phichit's favorite. From the moment they met in Detroit Phichit knew that Yuuri was the sort of person he wanted to be close to. He was smart and once he was comfortable enough to open up he was one of the coolest people he'd ever met. It always bothered him when others would walk over him or ignore him because he wasn't loud or overbearing like most skaters. Yuuri had a lot more common sense, he'd be the one to pull Phichit back when he wanted to run off and do something stupid.

And really, Phichit knows he's the type to try and get to know everyone. He has so many friends but there's only one person he considers his best friend. No one else knows him the way Yuuri does. He likes being with him, likes how even when things get quiet he doesn't feel the need to fill the silence with chatter like he would with others.

Maybe it's a foregone conclusion that he ends up liking him, though he always keeps it to himself. A monumental act for someone who loves to tell the world everything about his life. But his affection for Yuuri is something he greedily keeps to himself, a treasure he brings out in quiet moments when his friend posts a picture online or texts him something that lets Phichit know that he was thinking of him.

He's in the middle of chattering about a new photo app he found, one with filters he's never seen when Yuuri kisses him and for a moment everything in his head goes quiet as he processes what just happened. Yuuri kissed him, or tried to. Once it sinks it, it doesn't take long to make his choice on how to respond. While Yuuri is still apologizing Phichit reaches over and trails his fingers across his jaw before kissing him properly. It's not a movie-quality kiss, the world doesn't stop. He doesn't even try to take a picture of it. ]

Don't be sorry, please. I like you, I don't want this to be something you regret.

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open smut post

RELENAAAAA | I'm going to regret this immediately

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TLC Abomination Style

season 15 AU

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phichit ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

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