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thebunnednun · 5 months ago

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Tempted to touch! Men of One piece x Fm! Reader (Multi Character fic) Part 2

Pairings: Zoro x Reader, Buggy x Reader, Law x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Sabo x Reader, Kidd x Reader, Corazon x Reader

Synopsis: Can someone write like a lil thing for Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile and/or Smoker or any One Piece character (secretly) seeing their S/O being able to whine (dance) and having crazy waist control (being able to bounce their ass without movin anything else)? 🧍🏻‍♀️

A little something for @mororona who gave me the prompt.

Use these songs:

Tempted to Touch by Rupee Zoro, Buggy, Rosinante

Nina Sky - Move Ya Body Kidd, Sabo,

Aventura - La Novelita Sanji, Law, Sanji

Or use any song you want *Shrugs*

I'ma also tag @fanaticsnail I added two special someones for you!!~

In honor of me reaching 100 followers I have prepared many stories for you all. Thank you to everyone who supported me through my hiatus. <33 ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

On with the show!!~

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Zoro

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Thousand Sunny. The crew was scattered around the deck, enjoying a rare moment of peace.

Luffy and Usopp were engaged in a loud, animated conversation, while Nami and Robin sipped on drinks, sharing a quieter exchange. Sanji was in the kitchen, preparing a late-night snack for everyone, and Franky was tinkering with one of his inventions. Brook’s gentle strumming on his guitar added a serene backdrop to the scene.

Zoro, ever the loner, had retreated to a quiet corner of the deck. He leaned against the railing, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword, the other holding a half-empty bottle of sake. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be resting, but in truth, he was always alert, always ready.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪ ~

As the night grew darker, a soft, rhythmic beat began to echo across the deck. Zoro opened one eye, scanning the area for the source of the sound. His gaze landed on you and Chopper, standing near the center of the deck, your eyes closed, lost in your own world. Brooks music seemed to flow through you, guiding your movements.

Zoro's interest piqued as he watched you start to move. You swayed your hips with a grace and fluidity that was mesmerizing. The rest of your body remained still, save for your waist, which moved with a hypnotic rhythm. It was a skillful dance, one that required incredible control and strength. You were whining,and you were doing it flawlessly.

You were completely unaware of your audience. The other crew members continued their activities, oblivious to your impromptu performance. Zoro, however, couldn’t take his eyes off you. There was something captivating about the way you moved, something almost primal. He felt a strange mix of emotions—pride, admiration, and an unfamiliar heat that stirred deep within him.

Zoro’s grip on his bottle tightened as you shifted your movements, your hips now bouncing in a way that defied logic. It was as if the rest of your body had frozen in time, leaving only your waist to express the rhythm of the music. He had seen many things in his travels, but this was new, this was different.

As the song reached its crescendo, you finished with a graceful spin, finally opening your eyes. Your gaze met Zoro’s, and you froze, realizing you had an audience.

"[Name]-chan, why did you stop?" The little reindeer whined, wanting to be spun in your arms again. However, he stopped seeing the flustered swordsman and you locked in a staring match.

A blush spread across your cheeks, but Zoro’s expression was unreadable. He took a swig from his bottle, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Didn’t know you could dance like that,” he said, his voice low and appreciative.

You laughed nervously, running a hand through your hair. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Moss-head.”

He smirked, pushing off the railing and walking towards you. “Guess I’ll have to stick around and find out, then.”

"Are you guys flirting?"

"NO!"

Chopper let out some little giggles as he tugged your hand into his smaller one and almost dragged you to Zoro. Shockingly, the moss-head put down his bottle and picked up Chopper, placing him on his shoulders before offering a hand to you.

"Would you dance with me?"

You looked quickly between him and his outstretched palm before nodding and grabbing on.

As Zoro closed the distance between you, you could see the intensity in his eyes. The night was far from over, and you had a feeling it would be one to remember.

Buggy

It was a late night in the Big Top, and Buggy found himself tossing and turning, unable to sleep. His mind swirled with the day’s frustrations and petty annoyances. Costumes not right, Alvida roasting him, Richie almost eating some of the audience members. He grumbled to himself, contemplating another sleepless night when the faint sound of music reached his ears. It was a soft, rhythmic melody, entirely out of place at this hour.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪ ~

Annoyed, Buggy sat up and stomped towards the source of the disturbance. "Who the hell is playing music at this time?" he muttered under his breath, ready to bellow at whoever it was to, "Shut that damn music off!"

As he approached the main performance area, he stopped short. There, under the dim spotlight of the Big Top, he saw you, his shyest performer. Your back was to him, and you seemed completely absorbed in your dance, unaware of his presence.

The Big Top, usually bustling with noise and activity, was eerily silent save for the music. The moonlight filtered through the tent’s small windows, casting a gentle glow on your figure. You moved with an ethereal grace, your body swaying to the rhythm. Buggy’s eyes widened as he watched you, mesmerized.

You had always been reserved, avoiding the spotlight and keeping to yourself. But here, in the privacy of the night, you had shed your inhibitions, revealing a side of yourself that was both captivating and unexpected. Your eyes were closed, and a serene smile played on your lips as you moved to the rhythm of the music.

Your hips moved with a hypnotic precision, swaying and bouncing in a way that seemed almost impossible. The rest of your body remained still, a testament to your incredible control. It was a captivating sight, one Buggy couldn’t look away from.

You, the performer who always shied away from the spotlight, the one who would cry if pressed to the stage, were now the embodiment of confidence and skill. The music wrapped around you, each note guiding your movements. Your moments were so sure, rippling like water while you were completely lost in the flow of your craft.

Buggy watched you dance, each movement more enthralling than the last. The world outside the Big Top faded away, leaving only the music, your dance, and the spellbinding atmosphere

He leaned against the stands, his initial annoyance long forgotten. There was something enchanting about watching you like this, seeing you so free and unrestrained. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, shy person he knew you to be during the day. Buggy felt a strange warmth in his chest, a mix of admiration and a newfound affection.

As you continued, Buggy found himself captivated not just by your skill, but by the raw emotion you poured into each step. Your usually reserved demeanor was gone, replaced by a vibrant, enchanting presence. It was as if you had shed all your inhibitions, revealing a side of yourself that was hidden beneath layers of shyness and restraint.

The music continued, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace, guiding your every step. Buggy marveled at your skill and the way you seemed to place your heart into each movement. It was as if you were sharing a part of yourself that no one else had seen, a secret side that only the night and the music could coax out.

‘Beautiful,’

Buggy’s heart pounded as he observed you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He took a step back, careful not to make a sound. Buggy didn’t want to disturb this private moment, this secret display of your talent. The last thing he wanted was to break the spell you had unknowingly cast.

As the music slowly came to an end, you finished your dance with a final, graceful flourish. You stood there for a moment, breathing heavily but with a peaceful smile on your face, eyes closed.

Buggy took another step back, he didn’t want you to know he had been watching, not yet.

With one last lingering glance at you, Buggy turned and walked away, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He knew he would never look at you the same way again. The shy little performer he had thought he knew was gone, replaced by a captivating dancer with an irresistible charm.

That morning, Buggy carried the memory of your dance with him, a secret treasure he was happy to keep all to himself. It was a reminder that beneath the surface, there was always more to discover, and sometimes, the most beautiful things were found in the most unexpected places.

Law

It was late at night on the Polar Tang, and Law found himself unable to sleep. The day's events replayed in his mind, a mix of battles, research, and the endless responsibilities that came with being a captain. Frustrated, he rose from his bed, deciding to take a walk through the quiet corridors of his submarine.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪ ~

As he wandered, he heard a faint sound of a melody drifting through the halls. It was an unusual sound at this hour, and Law's first instinct was to put a stop to it. His crew needed rest, and so did he. With a sigh, he followed the melody, preparing to tell whoever it was to shut it off.

As he neared the source, Law's sharp eyes caught sight of a figure moving gracefully in the dimly lit common room. He stopped in his tracks, his irritation melting away as he realized who it was. You, the bubbly and ever-optimistic member of his crew, were dancing, completely lost in the flow of your movements.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of a few scattered lights, casting long shadows that danced along with you. The gentle sway of the submarine did little to disturb your rhythm. Your body moved with a fluidity that left Law momentarily speechless. Your hips swayed and bounced with an effortless control, your waist moving independently from the rest of your body. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that Law couldn't look away from.

You had always been the opposite of him—confident, lively, and full of an infectious energy that endeared you to everyone. You brought light to the crew, a stark contrast to Law's often serious demeanor. But here, in the privacy of the night, you had shed your usual exuberance, revealing a side of yourself that was just as captivating and unexpected.

Your eyes were closed, a serene smile playing on your lips as you moved to the rhythm of the music. Law found himself drawn in, watching the way you danced with a mix of grace and passion. Each movement was precise, yet filled with an emotional depth that spoke of a deep connection to the music. You seemed completely unaware of his presence, lost in a world of your own creation.

He leaned against the doorway, his initial annoyance long forgotten. There was something enchanting about watching you like this, seeing you so free and unrestrained. Law felt a strange warmth crawling up his neck into his face and ears.

Just then, the music paused as the record player needed to be restarted. You opened your eyes and saw Law just standing there, causing you to jump and scream out,

"AHHH!"

Startled, Law quickly looked behind him and then back to you, his eyes wide. "[Name]-ya! What's wrong?!"

Realizing that he had scared you, Law quickly crossed the floor to you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured into your hair, holding you close. "M’Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you buried your face in his shoulder, trying to calm down. "It’s okay, you just startled me, Law-san," you mumbled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent, a mixture of antiseptic and something uniquely him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear was soothing, gradually easing your surprise.

Law chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. He gently ran a hand down your back in a comforting gesture, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice gentle. "But I have to say, I really like your dancing. You should dance more often."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your cheeks still flushed. His usual stern expression had softened, and there was a genuine warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You really think so?" you asked, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite your usual confidence.

Law nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. I do."

Feeling a surge of affection for him, you grinned. "Well then, let's start now," you whispered with your own smile to match.

A warm smile spread across Law's face as he nodded. Without another word, he pulled you closer, and the two of you began to slow dance to the quiet hum of the Polar Tang. The world outside faded away, leaving only the gentle sway of your bodies and the comforting embrace you shared.

As you danced together in the dim light, a soft, contented silence settled over you both. The bubbly, sunshine-filled crew member and the stoic, grumpy captain, finding comfort and warmth in each other's arms, dancing to the silent music of the night.

SANJIIII

Late at night on the Thousand Sunny, Sanji found himself restless. Unable to sleep, he decided to check the kitchen, suspecting that the usual culprits—Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper—might be raiding the fridge again. With a lit cigarette in his mouth and a broom in hand, he made his way towards the kitchen, ready to shoo away the mischievous trio.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪♩~

As he approached, he heard faint noises and peeked through the kitchen window. To his surprise, it wasn't the usual suspects. Instead, it was you, wearing his chef's apron, making a little snack for yourself.

The apron hugged your figure in a way that made his heart flutter. You were preparing a simple sandwich and a glass of water, moving gracefully around the kitchen.

Sanji's eyes softened as he watched you dance while you put everything together, a little hip wiggle accompanying your movements. He adored that wiggle, especially when you ate something delicious. It was the very reason he always tried to create dishes that would make you dance with joy.

You were somewhat of a picky eater, often opting for something like soup or a sandwich while the rest of the crew ate their hearty meals. It broke his heart a bit, thinking he couldn't satisfy your appetite despite his efforts. Yet, he continued to create new dishes, hoping to find something that would suit your palate.

Quietly, Sanji slipped into the kitchen, watching as you finished cleaning and putting away the dishes—another thing he loved about you. Your consideration for his meticulously clean kitchen warmed his heart. You took a bite of your sandwich and did that delightful hip wiggle again, bringing a soft chuckle from Sanji as he admired you.

Suddenly, you accidentally dropped your water glass, and it shattered on the floor. You squatted down to pick up the pieces, but before you could touch any, you felt a warm presence behind you.

"Hold on now, love. You could hurt yourself," a gentle voice murmured.

You gasped as the smell of nicotine found its way to your nose and turned to find Sanji’s strong arms lifting you up and seating you on the kitchen counter. Now faced towards Sanji, he smiled up at you with such fondness as he crouched down that it made you blush. He carefully swept up the glass pieces, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Sanji, how long have you been here?" you asked, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth.

"Long enough to see that wonderful dance of yours," he answered honestly, a teasing smile on his lips. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. It was quite the beautiful sight to behold."

You nibbled on your sandwich, your cheeks flushing. "I'm sorry, Sanji. I didn't mean to wake you."

He sighed, his expression softening. "Don’t be ridiculous, I was already awake. I'm sorry I can't make dishes that agree with your tummy." He threw out the broken glass and set the broom back down before returning to you and adjusting the rolled up cuffs of his shirt before resting his hands on the counter.

‘Yummy,’

You shook your head, blushing. "It's not your fault! I actually include different parts of the dinner you make for us in my soup and sandwiches." You opened your sandwich to show him the seasoned meat he had made for dinner that night.

Sanji's heart soared at the sight. "Really? That makes me so happy, [Name]."

You bit your lip, looking down and playing with your fingers. "There's another reason why I don't eat in front of you, Sanji."

He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. "Why?"

You looked up, swinging your feet nervously. "I know acts of service are your love language, and I noticed you often just drink wine and eat a little bit while the crew has dinner.” You began to fidget with your fingers. “I would like it if you would sit with me during dinner and eat with me."

Sanji's cigarette slipped from his teeth, dropping to the floor. Quickly, he stomped it out, his mind raced before a smile spread across his face. He took your hands and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "I'd love that, [Name]."

You smiled brightly and tugged him into a hug, catching him by surprise. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you held each other for a while, basking in the warmth of the moment.

Sanji gently picked you up off the counter and set you down on the now clean, glass-free floor. "May I ask you a favor?"

You hummed in curiosity, looking up at him. "Of course, Sanji."

He took your hand and led you to the center of the kitchen. "Dance with me?"

Your face lit up with joy as you beamed at him. "I'd love to."

You placed your hand in his, and the two of you began to dance softly. One of his hands rested on your waist while your other hand rested on his shoulder. Slowly, you got closer, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Both of his arms encircled your middle, and your arms wrapped around his neck. You gazed into each other's eyes, foreheads touching as you closed your eyes, enjoying the bliss of being together.

In the quiet of the kitchen, with the soft hum of the ship in the background, you danced together, finding solace and happiness in each other's embrace.

SABO

Sabo had managed to slip away from the Straw Hats during the festival, deftly navigating through the colorful crowds and festive stalls. The air was alive with the aroma of exotic foods and the joyous sounds of laughter and music. He had one mission in mind—to find you, the shyest Straw Hat, the half sea creature who usually kept away from the lively festivities.

Following the winding paths that led away from the main celebration, Sabo made his way to your usual meeting spot, a secluded cove hidden away from the bustling energy of the festival. The trees and berry bushes provide security from prying eyes.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪♩~

As he approached, the distant strains of music reached his ears, carried on the gentle sea breeze. The soft glow of festival lights flickered in the distance, casting playful shadows along the path and adding to the enchanting atmosphere of the night.

Upon reaching the cove, Sabo paused, taking in the sight before him. There you were, bathed in the ethereal light of the moon, your scales catching the shimmering reflections from the sea. The soft, iridescent glow of your skin mesmerized him, each scale reflecting the hues of the festival lights like tiny jewels. They glimmered softly against your body, creating an otherworldly aura around you.

You stood at the edge of the cove, your movements fluid and graceful as you danced to the music only you could hear. The band playing nearby provided a rhythmic backdrop, guiding your movements with its upbeat tempo. Sabo watched, captivated by the way your body moved with such effortless grace, every sway of your hips and twist of your body a testament to your innate connection to the sea.

‘Motion in the Ocean~’

Unable to resist, Sabo stepped forward as you spun gracefully under the moonlight. With a boldness born of longing, he reached out and gently caught you in his arms. You gasped in surprise, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of astonishment and something deeper—a silent energy between you.

Without a word, Sabo began to move with you, his hands finding a natural place on your waist as he guided you in a dance that transcended words. The music enveloped you both, its melody weaving around your intertwined bodies like a delicate thread, binding you together in a shared moment of intimacy.

Your scales brushed against his hands, their texture smooth and cool to the touch, yet somehow soft and inviting. Sabo marveled at the contrast between your delicate scales and the warmth of your skin beneath, a sensation that sent a thrill through him with each fleeting touch.

As you danced, the distance between you melted away, leaving only the raw emotion and desire that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. Sabo's touch was tender yet firm, his gaze never leaving yours as he communicated his feelings through the language of movement and touch.

The song continued, each beat a heartbeat that echoed the rhythm of your shared dance. The festival lights twinkled in the background, casting a magical glow over your intertwined forms. The moonlight bathed you both in its soft, silvery light, highlighting the contours of your faces and the sparkle in your eyes.

As the final notes of the song drifted away, you both stood still, your hands clasped together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. The intensity of the moment hung between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had brought you together under the moonlit sky.

"Again?"

"Again!"

With that, you both moved together once more, the world around you fading into the background as you lost yourselves in the dance of passion and longing. The only language needed was your moving bodies and the shimmering magic of the night.

Kidd

Amidst the vibrant festival lights and the lively atmosphere, Eustass Kid found himself observing the festivities with a skeptical eye. The air was thick with the scent of food and excitement, and the sound of music echoed through the streets.

As he navigated through the crowd, his attention was unexpectedly drawn to a figure that stood out from the revelry—a figure he didn't immediately recognize.

There she was, the crewmate he knew as somewhat reserved and always covered, now dressed in a flowing blouse and a short ruffled skirt that was raised higher with every step she took. Her mask was absent, allowing her hair to cascade freely around her shoulders. This new sight of her, smiling, laughing, and dancing without a care in the world, captivated him instantly.

She had become the center of attention in a dance circle, her movements graceful and fluid, drawing the eyes of everyone around her. Her laughter mingled with the music, a melody of joy that echoed through the night.

Kidd couldn't tear his eyes away from her—the way her eyes sparkled with mirth, her smile lighting up her face in a way he had never seen before.

Kidd was enraptured by this new side of her, so full of life and energy. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, reserved persona she usually displayed aboard the ship. He found himself drawn to her like a magnet, wanting to get closer without disrupting her dance.

Meanwhile, Killer, ever observant of his captain's moods and inclinations, noticed Kidd's fixed gaze and sharp interest. With a mischievous grin, he assumed Kidd wanted to join in on the fun and playfully slapped his back in encouragement, pushing him forward towards the dance circle with a hearty, "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

Startled by Killer's unexpected shove, Kidd stumbled forward and inadvertently bumped into the edge of the dance circle, drawing the attention of everyone, including you. At first, you looked surprised, momentarily pausing in your dance as you tried to place the interruption.

However, any annoyance quickly melted into amusement when you realized it was your captain who had stumbled into the midst of the dance. You giggled at the sight of him, his usual stern expression slightly awkward as he tried to move in sync with the music and the others around him.

Without missing a beat, you took matters into your own hands, quite literally. Grabbing Kidd's hands with a playful grin, you pulled him flush against you, guiding him through the steps of the dance with an infectious confidence. The music seemed to intensify around them, matching the fiery spirit of their impromptu dance.

Kidd, though initially caught off guard, soon found himself swept up in the rhythm of the dance and the energy radiating from you. Your touch was surprisingly gentle yet firm, leading him through the intricate steps with a natural grace that belied your usual reserved demeanor. He couldn't help but be drawn to your infectious enthusiasm and the way your laughter filled the air around them.

Each step and sway seemed to draw you closer, the rhythm syncing your movements in a sensual duet. The festival lights cast shifting patterns around you, accentuating the curve of your neck as you leaned into his touch, and the warmth of his hand on your waist, guiding you in the dance. Kidd's gaze held an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his fingertips grazing lightly against your skin as you moved together. The air crackled with a palpable tension, charged with the electricity of desire.

Your breath mingled in the space between you, the heat of the night matching the heat rising between your entwined forms. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the sensation of his strong frame pressed against yours, and the undeniable attraction that had ignited between you.

The festival lights cast a kaleidoscope of colors around them, accentuating their dance with a vibrant backdrop of swirling hues. The night seemed to bend around them, the music guiding their every twist and turn, until they were lost in their own world of rhythm and passion.

With each beat of the music, you surrendered to the allure of the dance, allowing yourselves to be carried away by the intoxicating rhythm and the lingering touches of his hand on your hips and waist sending a rush of warmth through you.

At the end of the song, they stood together in the center of the circle, their hands still clasped, breaths mingling in the cool night air. Kidd couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. The festival lights flickered around them, casting playful shadows over their faces as they caught their breath.

"Well, well," Kidd started, his voice low and teasing, "Who knew the prude one had such moves?" Kidd couldn't help but admire you in this liberated state, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the warmth of your smile.

Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of interest and amusement. "Surprised, Captain? I guess there's more to me than meets the eye," you replied, your tone playful yet tinged with challenge.

Kidd chuckled, a deep rumble that resonated in the night air. "Clearly," he remarked, his gaze locking with yours. "I never took you for someone who could command a dance floor."

You shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes. "You never asked~," you quipped, stepping closer to him until your bodies were almost touching.

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of admiration crossing his features. "Maybe I should ask more often," he countered, his voice lowering to a husky murmur.

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his gaze, your breath catching slightly. "Maybe you should," you shot back, a bratty challenge in your tone as you leaned closer to him, your faces mere inches apart.

For a moment, you stood there in the electric tension between you, the music and laughter of the festival fading into the background. It was just the two of you, caught in a dance of words and desires.

"Care to show me more of your hidden talents, then?" Kidd murmured, his voice a low, enticing growl.

A smirk played on your lips as you tilted your head, meeting his gaze head-on. "Depends," you teased, "Are ya up for the challenge?"

Kidd's eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, his hand tightening around yours. "Try me," he dared, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

With that, you pulled him back into the dance, your bodies moving together with a newfound power and intimacy. The festival continued around you, but in that moment, all that mattered was the fiery connection between you in the midst of the night's celebration.

As you danced, your banter continued, each teasing remark and playful touch fueling the chemistry that simmered between you. The festival lights illuminated your dance, casting a halo of warmth and desire around your figures as you moved in sync, drawn together by a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist.

At the end of the song, you paused once more, breathless and exhilarated from your dance. Your eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken promises and newfound understanding.

"Can you handle me?" you whispered, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Kidd smirked, his gaze never leaving yours. "I’ll fuck around and find out," he agreed, pulling you closer as you both prepared to lose yourselves once more in the intoxicating rhythm of the night.

Corazon Rosinante <3

Rosinante joined the Straw Hats and Heart Pirates at a bustling club to celebrate their latest victory. The atmosphere was alive with pulsing music and laughter, drinks flowing freely as everyone reveled in the night's festivities. Amidst the animated crowd, Cora sat quietly at the bar, nursing a glass of water, his serene expression belying the chaos around him.

You, working behind the bar as a bartender, couldn't help but notice the lone figure amidst the revelry. Curiosity sparked, you approached Rosinante with a friendly smile, unaware that he couldn't speak.

“Hey stranger, you enjoying yourself?”

He looked a little startled by you. He hadn’t expected anyone to strike up a conversation with him tonight. Holding up a polite finger, he dug into his pocket for a moment, pulling out a notepad. He scribbled a cheerful greeting and slid it over to you, hoping to communicate with you.

‘Hi! Thanks for asking. I’m doing fine.’

Unfortunately for him, his pencil broke. Cora let out a silent groan before reaching into his pockets to find another writing tool. Quiet giggles filled his ears before he looked up to see you pull a pencil from behind your ear and you scribble a cheerful greeting and before sliding it over to him.

‘No problem at all.’

Rosinante, caught off guard by your gesture, glanced at the note with surprise before returning your smile. You picked up a pen and offered it to him and he began to respond in kind, a playful doodle sketched on its surface. It depicted a tiny heart wearing a straw hat, accompanied by a speech bubble saying, "Quiet night?"

You looked up, surprised, then smiled warmly. He reached for the note and wrote underneath, "Not much for the noise. Enjoy watching them have fun."

You chuckled softly, replying with another doodle, this time of a heart holding a pen, writing, "I get that. Sometimes it's nice just to watch."

Rosinante grinned at your doodle, appreciating the whimsy in your communication. Before he could respond, a commotion broke out nearby.

Your coworker, a spirited woman named Maya, known for her contagious enthusiasm (and for getting so hammered with the clients she would dance on the bar), had spotted you at your station. With a mischievous wink, Maya grabbed your hand, urging you to join her on the dance floor.

At first, you resisted, shaking your head with a playful protest. But Maya wasn't easily deterred. She pulled you gently but persistently, whispering, "Come on, just this once! It's your song!"

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪♩~

The DJ, sensing the moment, began to cue up your favorite track, its familiar beats filling the air. Initially hesitant, you laughed and shook your head, trying to resist her playful insistence. But Maya wasn't one to take no for an answer. With a playful pout and a persuasive sway, she coaxed you onto the dance floor amidst cheers and encouragement from those nearby.

“Fine! Just for one song!” You finally relented, stepping onto the dance floor. Caught up in the moment, you began to move, your body responding naturally to the music. Your dance was a display of precise waist control and confident grace, drawing all eyes towards you.

The music enveloped you, with you effortlessly weaving through the crowd with dance moves that showcased your skillful waist control and playful charisma. The club erupted in cheers, friends and strangers alike clapping along to the rhythm, captivated by your impromptu performance.

Meanwhile, Rosinante watched in awe seated at the bar. He couldn't help but watch with rapt attention. His cheeks flushed as he observed your skillful movements and the joyous energy you exuded. He hadn’t expected this tonight, he hadn’t expected you tonight—so vibrant and alive, captivating everyone around you.

The club erupted in applause and cheers, celebrating your impromptu performance. Maya danced alongside you, matching your energy with her own infectious spirit, creating a scene of pure revelry and joy.

Rosinante, mesmerized by your dance, felt a warmth spread through him. He couldn't look away, feeling admiration and perhaps a hint of a crush stirring within him as he watched you shine in the spotlight of the dance floor. His heart pounding in his ears along with the music's beat.

Meanwhile, Luffy and Zoro noticed Rosinante's fixed gaze on you. With mischievous grins, they nudged Law, who was quietly sipping his drink nearby. Law, ever the strategist, decided to intervene in his own unique way.

"Cora-san seems to need a little nudge," Law remarked casually to Luffy and Zoro.

"I'll help him find it."

Before Rosinante could react, Law had already grasped his hand, feigning concern as he led Rosinante away from the bar. "Let's checkout the DJ booth," Law suggested, his tone masking his true intentions.

Confused but compliant, Rosinante allowed himself to be led towards where you were dancing. Suddenly, Law released his hand, leaving Rosinante standing awkwardly behind you. Flustered, Rosinante attempted to move out of the way, his taller frame proving a challenge in the crowded club.

“Looks like we got a challenger folks!” The DJ boomed over the music leading you to turn around and crank your neck up, up, up at the now standing silent customer.

“Oh it’s you!”

Cora, unsure of what was happening, allowed himself to be led, his mind racing with thoughts of how to gracefully excuse himself from the situation. Just as he was about to attempt to leave, you noticed him and gently grabbed the back of his shirt, preventing his escape.

The music pounded around you as you shouted over the noise, "Hey! Dance with me!"

Startled, Rosinante fumbled for his notepad to write a response, but you took it gently from his hand and pocketed it with a knowing smile. Sensing his hesitation, you hopped up onto a nearby table, waving him forward. Your eyes met his, and he could see the playful challenge in your expression.

“This should be okay, right?”

With a shy nod and a blush coloring his cheeks, Rosinante tentatively joined you at the table. It had been years since he last danced, but with your encouragement and the pulsing beat of the music, he quickly found his rhythm again. His movements were graceful yet tentative at first, but as the song progressed, confidence surged through him.

The dance became a playful exchange of steps and spins, laughter ringing out between you. Rosinante surprised himself with how easily he moved, his tall frame gracefully accommodating your playful gestures. As the music reached a crescendo, he swept you into his arms, one hand securely under your thighs and the other clasping yours. You held onto his waist with your legs and together, you spun in sync, the joy evident on both your faces.

The club erupted into thunderous cheers and applause, celebrating your spontaneous and captivating dance. Even Law, watching from the sidelines with a rare smile, couldn't help but be impressed by Rosinante's unexpected grace and the dorky cuteness between you both.

For Rosinante, this unexpected dance had not only brought him closer to you but also rediscovered a part of himself he thought he had long forgotten. And as the club around him faded, amidst the laughter and celebration, he found himself very grateful for the playful twist of fate that had brought him to your side.

As the song ended, you both took a bow, and the crowd clapped enthusiastically. However, in his attempt to stand tall and bow gracefully, Rosinante rolled his ankle and stumbled, causing a collective gasp from the onlookers.

“Ah shit.”

“There Cora-san goes again!”

“Have you tried drinking some milk?”

Quick to react, Law stepped forward, helping you guide Corazon to a nearby chair. He swiftly retrieved some ice from the bar and placed it gently in a bag on Rosinante's ankle, muttering about the clumsiness under his breath.

Rosinante winced slightly but managed a sheepish smile as he gestured for you to come closer. With a touch of embarrassment, he handed you a note. You gasped in surprise, feeling your pockets and realizing that Rosinante had discreetly taken back his notepad without your notice.

The note was a simple yet heartfelt message, thanking you for the best time he'd had in years with a smiley face that had hearts on both cheeks. You beamed warmly at him, feeling a rush of affection for this gentle-hearted man who had ventured out of his comfort zone for you.

"Can I give you a hug?" you asked softly, seeking permission.

Rosinante's shy eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly, opening his arms. Without hesitation, you dove into his embrace, feeling the warmth and sincerity in his gesture. He felt so fucking good to hug.Even the scent of his cologne, mixed with the subtle aroma of the club and the faint trace of sweat from dancing wasn’t bad at all.

He was so tall you actually could almost climb into his lap if you wanted. But that would be going pretty far for a first meeting. Instead, you tucked your head into his neck and closed your eyes. His heart was pounding against yours, the rhythm syncing with the lingering excitement of the dance.

‘He’s so fucking cute!~’

In that moment, amidst the music and the crowd, you realized that you weren't the only one feeling a "little" flustered.

Suddenly, the DJ's voice blasted over the speakers, giving you both a shoutout. "Let's hear it for the cutest couple out here tonight!"

You and Rosinante's cheeks flushed crimson as you snapped your necks to the DJ before shyly looking back at each other. As he sat back in the chair, trying to process the unexpected attention. In his flustered state, he tipped backwards, taking you with him in a gentle fall. Before you could react, his strong arms instinctively wrapped around you, protecting you from the fall.

You cringed at the echo of the chair slapping against the concrete floor as you ended up in the handsome stranger's lap and pressed up into his chest and neck.

"Sorry!" he whispered in your ear softly, his voice so warm and soothing that it sent a shiver down your spine. It was then that you realized—he could talk, and his voice was incredibly nice.

The crew members of both the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates, along with your coworkers and even your manager, let out collective "awes" at the sight of you both, wrapped up in each other's arms. The moment, filled with laughter and warmth, seemed to freeze in time, a perfect tableau of the unexpected

As your coworkers and Law helped you both back up from the chair, the warmth of the moment lingered between you and Rosinante. Despite the stumble, you found yourselves chatting easily, laughter punctuating the conversation as you exchanged stories and shared moments from the night.

Eventually, the festivities began to wind down, and one by one, your friends and colleagues bid their farewells, heading home for the night. Rosinante lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting yours with a soft smile.

Before he left, he waved goodbye and then gestured towards his pocket. Confused, you looked down and discovered a note tucked neatly into your pocket. With a flutter of anticipation, you unfolded it and read the words written in his neat handwriting.

–

My tiny dancer,

Thank you for the most wonderful evening I've had in years. Your smile lit up the room, and dancing with you was a joy I'll cherish. I hope we can do it again soon! (But hopefully without the ‘accidents’.)

Take care,

Rosinante

Phone number: XXX- (555) -4567

–

Heart racing with excitement, you looked up to find Corazon already halfway out the door, his shy smile lighting up his face. With a rush of gratitude and newfound connection, you tucked the note safely away,

You nodded at him, conveying your appreciation and eagerness to see him again, and then playfully blew him a kiss.

Corazon's cheeks flushed crimson once more as he, in a moment of playful realization, pretended to catch the blown kiss, but his attention was momentarily diverted. With a soft thud, he accidentally banged his head against the metal door frame, a mix of embarrassment and amusement crossing his features. You cringed a little bit from the impact and gestured to his forehead. He gave you a thumbs up and your heart relaxed a bit.

Meanwhile, the other characters in the club had been watching the scene unfold with amused affection. Maya clapped her hands together with a gleeful laugh, thoroughly enjoying the romantic interlude she had inadvertently helped create. Law, who stood nearby, nudged Corazon along, “Come on, you’ll see her again soon,” a rare smile playing on his lips as he observed Corazon's departure.

Outside, the night air was cool and refreshing as Corazon walked away from the club, a smile lingering on his lips. He couldn't shake the butterflies of excitement and anticipation, grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought him to you.

Back inside, the club gradually quieted down as patrons began to disperse, each carrying with them memories of a lively celebration and the heartwarming sight of two unlikely dancers. Maya and your other coworkers exchanged knowing glances, silently agreeing to tease you about this later and hound you for updates once you’d texted the clumsy cutie.

You were a little more smiley as you closed up your section. Standing amidst the remnants of the evening's joy, you felt a sense of possibility and newfound happiness knowing that this night had brought something special into your life—a gentle-hearted man named Corazon, who had danced and rolled his way into your heart.

You reached for your phone to take a picture of the note. Just in case you lost it. Tucking Corazon's note safely into your pocket, you knew that this was just the beginning of a romance with a gentle-hearted giant named Corazon.

Bonus:

Later that night, as you settled in at home, you reached into your pocket and pulled out Corazon's note once more. With a smile, you carefully unfolded it and read the words again, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. You decided to send him a text, wanting to talk to him again.

----

Unknown: Hi Corazon! It's [Name] from the club. I made it home safely. Thank you for the lovely note. 😊

----

Meanwhile, across town, Corazon lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his ankle elevated, the result of an unexpected mishap on his way home. While walking back to his car with his friends, Cora was lost in thoughts of you and the evening's enchantment. So he had stumbled into an uncovered manhole, resulting in a tumble that miraculously left him only bruised and slightly battered.

----

Rosinante: Hi [Name]! I'm glad you made it home safely. Sorry for the delay—I had a little accident on my way back. Nothing serious, just a reminder to pay more attention. 😅 How are you?

----

You settle back into your cozy spot on the couch, phone in hand, waiting for his response. The moments stretch out as you imagine the possible scenarios, your mind filled with concern for the endearing, clumsy man who had captured your heart so unexpectedly.

Your phone dings again, and you quickly read his reply.

––––

Oh no! What happened? Are you okay? :You

Rosinante: I was daydreaming about you and didn't notice an uncovered manhole. I fell in and sprained my ankle and bumped my head. I'm in the hospital now, but it's nothing serious. Just a bit embarrassed. 😳

–––––

“Oh Dearest Pie, he falls down a freaking manhole and still asks me how I’m doing.”

Your heart melts at his candid confession, a mixture of concern and affection welling up within you. You can't help but laugh softly, picturing the tall, awkward sweetheart stumbling into a manhole because he was thinking of you.

–––––

Tiny Dancer: Oh no, Rosinante! I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope you're not in too much pain. If it helps, I'm flattered that I was on your mind. 😊

–––––

A shy smile tugs at his lips as he lies in his hospital bed. His reply comes quickly, the playful tone lifting your spirits.

–––––

Rosinante: It does help, actually! Your smile is a pretty nice distraction. 😊

–––––

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you continue the conversation, sharing stories and laughter, bridging the distance between you with every message. The night grows late, but neither of you seems to notice, too engrossed in the blossoming feelings between you.

––––

I wish I could be there to keep you company. :You

Rosinante: Just knowing you're thinking of me is enough. But maybe we can meet up again soon please? I promise to avoid any manholes this time! 😅

––––

“Fuck he’s too cute.”

––––

I'd like that very much. Rest up, okay? :You

And thank you for making tonight so special. :You

Rosinante: Thank you, too. Goodnight, Tiny Dancer.

Goodnight, Gentle Giant. :You

––––

Despite the mishap, Rosinante couldn't help but smile as he typed out the message. The memory of your smile and the warmth of your presence lingered with him, easing the discomfort of his minor injuries. He eagerly began to look up other dance clubs he could take you to, his heart thankful for the continuation of this unexpected and delightful chance of meeting you.

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

Link to part 1.

Let this serve as the official kick off to the summer!

Taglist: @orange-milky @xxsliverwolfxx @mochiclouds

I own none of the images or art!!

I wanna add more characters later, Lemme know what characters you want! DM's are always open.

Posted on the ao3 account soon.

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a fic for almost everyone here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ And thank you guys again for 100 followers!!

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bamfaholic · 3 months ago

Text

From Eden to Sit at Your Door | Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3|

AO3 here! ❤

TW for assault! Viewer discretion advised!!!

A/N: It's getting hot in here! Very juicy part imo

Kurt Wagner is in for it when you get your hands on him. This little disappearing act is growing stale; he needs to refresh his routine. You scramble out of the bed, at least making it — unlike a fuzzball we know — and changing into the spare clothes he brought.

The revelation you are a mutant had you think a little differently. You found yourself really focusing on what you could hear. Any whispers that could be useful to you. There was plenty of deafening ambience, just like last night. You ball your fists. Just… Just focus. Focus on one thing.

You picture Kurt, his smile, his radiant eyes. Your cheeks burn. Yet… There it is. Ever so faintly, the familiar sound of his breathing, the tip of his tail cutting through the air.

So, you’ve managed to hear him, but that doesn’t narrow down where he is. You aren’t aware of the limitations to your abilities just yet, your radius could be 50 feet or 50 miles for all you knew.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You figure you might as well use context clues to decipher his motives. After some fumbling around in the dim room, you find the box of matches. A strike later, and the match roars to life. You make your way around, lighting the few candles, until the match burns to a nub singing your fingertips.

You yelp in surprise, dropping the remains on the floor. It’s nothing, not even a true burn, the shock is what rocked you the most. Once you recollect yourself, the first thing to draw your attention is the open manilla envelope on the bench.

You snoop, flipping through the pages. Everything is written in English. You kick yourself for not paying better attention in class, as so many words are too complex and foreign. Beginner English you pick up on, and the few cognates. In defeat, you flip back to the front, seeing a photo of a woman. Blue, angled cheeks, sleek vivid red hair. Surprisingly, her eyes match Kurt’s in color, but in addition they have slit-shaped pupils. Just how common are blue mutants?

You slip the photo in your pocket. Not much of a plan, you realize, but you can at least make it so Kurt can’t deny the existence of the folder. You leave it on the bench, trading it for your white cane, and make the voyage out of the spare room.

You swear you get lost in the claustrophobic corridors at least twice, and it doesn’t help when you realize you’re in the basement. You avoid anywhere that grows too dark for your comfort. You aren’t sure how long it takes you, just that the sun is up when you finally make it to the sanctuary.

“Wow…” It’s completely different from last night, like you stepped through a portal. The sheets are gone, dust eliminated, warm candles illuminate the gorgeous stained glass and adorned ceiling.

It looks inviting, like its excitedly awaiting the next congregation. Kurt is hung by his tail, upside down, wiping down a beam with a rag. He softly hums a hymn to himself as he does so. It’s a cute sight, his nappy hair suspended midair. He’s still wearing his tank, now trying to slip off his toned body due to gravity, and his light-colored shorts.

He releases the grip with his tail, flipping himself upright, and lands flawlessly on his feet in just a few seconds. Hands on his hips, he admires his handiwork.

You tip toe across the aisle to stand behind him. “Good morning, Kurt.”

“Ah!” He jumps, launching the dirty rag across the room, his tail sticking straight up like a cat. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Schatz?”

You snicker, unable to help yourself. “Sorry, sorry. It was too easy.” You get on your tip toes to ruffle his hair, only now you realize how tall he is.

He gruffs, but you see the grin threatening to peak through. “Apology accepted, but I won’t be so nice next time.”

“How so?” You cock your head to the side.

“Like this!” He lunges towards you; his hands making their way under your arms and tickling you. You shriek out before crumbling into a ball of laughter. Once he’s wrecked enough havoc, he sets you free as you gasp for air. “That’ll show you.”

Your chest noticeably rises and falls. “R-Right. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t spook you again.”

“Damn right,” he says with a laugh, helping you back up to your feet. “did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah. I did.” You nervously run circles into the back of your neck, too ashamed to admit it was the best sleep of your life. “So what are you up to?”

“Oh, well someone very sneezy said I should dust,” Mischief flickers in his eyes, “And I should honor God , what better way than to clean His home?”

“I suppose you have a point.”

“Aye, friend, I do!” He hops on top of a pew, crouching like before, in your flat.

“But what now?” You look around the room, unsure what he could do next. You rub your fingers together with the photo between them in your pocket. You aren’t quite sure how or when to bring up the file.

“Head to the market, probably.” His tail happily sways behind him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Right on cue, your stomach loudly proclaims its emptiness. Kurt only laughs, hopping back down to his feet. You now note how active he is, he can’t seem to sit still. He pats your back before spinning around, throwing on his coat and hat. “I’ll be off, don’t answer the door.”

“What? You’re going alone?” You’re stunned, but he continues on, heading to the front door.

“Ja, you’ve already been hurt Schatz. I can’t… I cannot allow it again. I will not.”

You don’t know what to say to that. His tone sharply switching grim, serious. It was strange to see him this way.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you. Ciao!” Kurt opened the door, his trademark grin back, and right as he took a step out the door lightning crackled down, striking a few blocks away. Thunder tumbles over your heads, rain pouring from above.

“Shit.” He swears under his breath. “There goes that.” He sighs, putting his coat back on the hanger. “The church will flood and I can’t let it be ruined more than it already is. I’m its only protector now…”

Kurt briskly saunters past you, and you can already see what he means. So much water slowly drips from the ceiling, but a few spots have proper holes causing the downpour no difficulty.

You fiddle with your hands, not sure what to do to help. Kurt has already dipped into some corridor. He is hard to track, hard to spot. It isn’t hard to see why he was so surprised you caught him in your apartment yesterday.

Slowly, you walk back down the aisle of the sanctuary, running a hand along each pew. Some are pristine, but most are cracked. Some have their upholstery torn up, most likely from mold and water damage. There remains a handful of bibles in the shelves, none of them in great condition. The pages are puffed up, discolored, and wavy. A few flames have died out from the rainwater, shifting the ambience cooler. A hole in the roof creates a spotlight on Christ’s face. His peaceful expression, eyes casted downward to onlookers below. Holes in his wrists and ankles, oozing marble blood.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

The bible at the altar is open, and with the thick layer of dust it’s evident it hasn’t been touched in quite some time. Why was this the one thing Kurt didn’t touch? You wonder.

It’s open to the book of Mathew, and some of the phrases are familiar. Lines you’ve heard incessantly in your life, such as: “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” You never understood the seeming hypocrisy, what it really meant.

Your eyes are drawn to a specific line thickly underlined:

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

There’s a thin scratch in the dust layer, like a nail digging through. You reach out to touch, to read more, maybe this will give you a glimpse into Kurt. This entire adventure had you forget why you even interacted with the man in the first place: your book.

You hear a crash and a commotion, like tons of metal falling to the ground. “Kurt!” you shout, rushing to his direction, but his blue-self pops out from a hallway.

“Ja?” He says, chipper as ever.

Kurt comes back with pots, bowls, and buckets. He strategically sets them up, before seating himself at the altar. He lights two candles before mumbling to himself, clasping his hands in prayer.

You carefully seat yourself beside him, enjoying the beauty. The candles are warm, comforting. They remind you of last night. You never cared for church, hated it in fact, but were happy it gave Kurt peace.

“Amen.” He finishes, raising his head and glancing to you.

“Why do you believe?” You spit out.

His glimmering eyes examine you, “Why don’t you? There is no proof to swing you one way or another.” He leans back, propping himself up with both of his hands.

“Well, it’s just… You’ve been through an awful lot. Not many would be thanking God for that.”

Kurt throws his head back in a laugh, his hand mere inches from yours. “I suppose not, but that is what makes me different. God destined me for these trials, these… Tribulations. I will prove myself as much as He needs me to.” His other hand moves up to feverishly clutch the rosary adorning his neck.

You click your tongue, not one to be religious. “I just don’t think it’s fair.”

“Aye, well, nothing is fair, friend.” He gently pats your head. “We would be puppets if not for the first sin, if our mother and father Adam and Eve hadn’t listened to the serpent. It was the cost of our autonomy.”

You hold your tongue, not comfortable in fighting his beliefs. At least he isn’t forcing it upon you. “Your rosary is beautiful.” You point to it. “Where did you get it?”

“That…” He peers down his chest. “The nunnery that raised me claims they found me with it, so I’d assume my mother.”

“You don’t know her? You grew up in a nunnery?”

He winces, slightly. You’ve accidentally opened an old wound. “In a sense, no. She… She abandoned me, for even I was too monstrous for her. So God led me to the sisters. I am ever grateful.”

You don’t think as you make your move, gently placing your hand on top of his. “Well, this mother of yours, she doesn’t deserve to know the kind of man you’ve become. You’re better than she will ever be.”

He chuckles, cheeks flushing. “You flatter me, Schatz.” He turns to look at you, his smile melting you into a puddle. “I’m so happy you think so.”

Thunder rolls above again, lightning cracking and snapping outside, yet you two are focused on no one else. The tension is thick, and you hear his heart fluttering.

“I’m so happy I met you, friend.” His brilliant glow is blinding.

You nervously swallow. “M-Me too.” You glance away, your face so hot it feels like it’s melting.

“And…” He gives your hand a squeeze. “I am no saint, friend. I am very much a dirty sinner.” He drops his voice to a whisper, leaning in close to you.

His mouth is slightly parted, breath hot. You can see the tips of his fangs threatening to poke out. His grip is a little tighter. You forget to breathe.

“Will you sin, with me?”

Your heart does cartwheels before lodging in your throat. Unable to speak, you just nod.

His eyes slowly close, his head slightly askew. He’s leaning closer to you, his breath warms and tickles the tips of your ears.

Blood is rushing through you, digging your nails into your palms just to stay grounded. This feels so soon, way too soon, but you can’t help it and comply.

You allow yourself to melt, leaning in, pressing your lips together. Fireworks burst between you, his lips so soft and gentle. Your skin is electrified. He’s so warm, and he smells sweet like a doughy pastry.

A hand of his slides up your back, cradling your neck. He pulls you into his lap, enveloping you in intoxicating warmth and desire. You raise a shaky hand to run through his hair. This all feels like a dream, a magnificent dream.

He bites down on your lower lip, hard. Its as if ice cold water is thrown on you. You inhale sharply in distress, the taste of blood filling your mouth. You try to yelp as you open your eyes but find yourself staring at someone else. Their features melt and realign, but the golden sclera remain. It’s the woman from before, the mutant Kurt was after.

She wipes your blood from her lips with her thumb, licking it away. You open your mouth to scream something, anything. “Ah ah ah~,” She tuts, jamming a large metal device in your gut.

Electricity burns your skin, your muscles convulse and fight against your senses. You fall backward, to the harsh unforgiving floor. She rises to her feet, heels of her boots clicking on the stone.

She speaks in English, just barely out of your view. All you can see is her blurry blue silhouette. The footsteps circle themselves, before she comes back straight to you. She stretches up in height, her skin forming metal plates, and in a blink she’s a broad man made of metal.

She heaves you over her shoulder, and out the front doors of the church. The icy rain beats down on your back, soaking you completely while you still fight the convulsions. You’re hurled into an armed vehicle with English lettering on the side.

Inside, you’re completely surrounded. Soldiers, just like the ones from your flat. They pay you no mind, one of them slapping jagged, strange looking handcuffs on your wrists.

The truck squeals before it begins to move, and you’re jostled by every bump and turn. Rain drops down from your hair, and you watch the puddles grow at your feet. The despair in your heart is soul crushing. Again and again, you’re left like this: helpless. When will it end?

You close your eyes, the lack of visuals comforting. Something you were accustomed to, something you knew you couldn’t rely on. Maybe Kurt was someone you never knew, stringing you along. Maybe he was this horrible woman all along. You couldn’t be certain, and you didn’t know if you ever could be.

For now, it didn’t appear to be in the cards for you to know anytime soon. Instead, like a lamb being led to the slaughter, you quietly await your future in the dim back of the truck; blood from your split lip dribbling and mixing with your tears.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (WIP)

Banners by @/cafekitsune

#kurt wagner #x-men #my works #x men #xmen #x-men fanfic #xmen fanfic #marvel nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner fanfic #kurt wagner x you #mystique #nightcrawler x you

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frost-queen · 1 year ago

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Sibling's sport (Teen!Reader & Glenn Rhee ft. Maggie)

Requested by: anon ,Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex–awesome–22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: You are Maggie's teen sister. One day you ran away from Alexandria to explore. When coming face to face with Glenn you nearly shoot him, thinking he was a walker. When Glenn starts scolding you, you call him an asshole as he can't help it but comment back to it. Bickering and toying around like siblings all the way back to Alexandria where Maggie has the laugh of her life, upon seeing you and Glenn.

A window slit open in the morning glow. The sudden sound sending a flock of birds flying that had been nestling on the roof for a morning rest. A backpack got send through, falling with a thud on the grass. Then a foot, up to a leg and half a posture. Grabbing onto the top of the window, you kept your balance. Sticking your other leg out to join them together. Setting your hands down you changed position. Slowly lowering yourself to decrease the fall height. Arms stretched out holding on to the railing, you let do, falling down. You landed down on the grass beside your backpack.

Gravity having pushed you down and knocked you off balance down below. Getting half up, you dragged your backpack closer to you over the grass. With one sweep it was over your shoulder. Set and ready, you took a run for it. Alexandria as quiet as ever. Everyone still fast asleep. You went towards the back avoiding being spotted by Daryl, who was sometimes an early bird too. If he saw you, he’d question where you would be going. He’d either tell your sister Maggie or decide to tag along. You liked Daryl but this was something you loved doing on your own.

Running up to the fence, you started to follow it down the line. Searching for that spot to easily get over it. There it was. You smiled in delight running up to it. All was left to do was climb over it. Seeing the garbage can nearby, you dragged it closer to the fence. Crawling on top of it, you got over the fence, landing down, sinking to your knees once over. Dusting your hands off, you started to run for it. Leaving Alexandria for what it was to explore. You kept running till you got to a clearing. Slowing down. You pulled out your knife, keeping it close for when you needed to use it.

Nearing the danger zone. The woods were a dangerous place for walkers to roam. Easily for them to sneak up on you and catch you by surprise. In the distance you spotted a walker walking mindlessly, their head slightly tilted to the side, close to their shoulder. They were far enough to not see you. Without making any sounds, you kept a close eye on them, going a different way. They got out of sight as you neared a creak. Taking a leap. Jumping over flawlessly. The sudden sound of walker’s snarling caught your attention.

Turning your head instantly out of instinct, you exhaled loud. The tension slowly leaving your stiff posture. Not far from you was a walker tangled up between some wires. Their legs dangling in the cold water. You walked over to it holding your knife out. It began to snarl louder and squirm in your presence. Wanting to have a bite as it hungered for it. Kneeling down you grabbed a hold of it’s head. Their jaw violently snapping your way. A few teeth already missing. – “I give you mercy.” – you whispered before jamming your knife deep down it’s skull.

It pierced easily through the skull as the walker went silent. Jaw hanging loose as you retracted your knife from it. The blood on it dark and smelly. Their brain must have been rotten for a while now. Getting back up, you continued your way. Finding peace in solitude. After a while you looked up. Seeing how the sky was pure blue. Not a cloud in sight. You thought back of Alexandria and how everyone must have already woken up.

Shaking your head you didn’t want to think longer about them. The trees cleared way, fewer trees standing tall as you neared a small town. Mushy leaves made way for hard streets. Cars parked carelessly around. You rounded a car leaping back when a walker thudded their head against the glass. Aware of your sudden presence. They kept bumping their head against the thick glass, hands gripping wildly before them, held back by the belt. You backed away. Walking in the middle of the road to avoid the cars.

Who knew what was hiding behind them or in them. You went over to a convenience store. The windows dusted, some broken. Nearing the broken window, you took a peek inside. Not seeing anything at first sight. Kneeling down you removed your backpack. Unzipping it to search it. Taking out a pebble, you moved your backpack over your shoulder again. Throwing the pebble through the broken window you heard it clatter against the ground. Waiting and watching carefully for any walkers. Whispering the counts till you rounded at thirty and still nothing had surprised you.

Finding it secure enough you broke the window more to crawl inside. With a thud you landed on your feet, broken glass underneath your boots. Moving your backpack to the front, you kept it open to stuff useful supplies in it. The first shelves were empty. Plundered. You went down each row looking for something useful. By the middle you found some interesting things. For some reason a wooden spoon. You bagged it, thinking Carol could find use for it. Some canned food that still looked worth consuming. Further down the back you found a dusted bunny.

Already missing an eye and a rip in the side where the filling was coming out a bit. You thought off Judy and how she would loved it. There must be some needles and thread back at Alexandria to patch it up for her. You carefully pushed some filling back into the bunny before putting it in your backpack. There was some more canned food and some dry snacks. You also took every medicine you came across. Who knew when you needed it. Going back outside you looked around the deserted town. Something about this silence making you feel small yet grand as well. You went to sit on the hood of a car, taking out a snack.

The city’s was yours. An overwhelming loneliness. Time seemingly standing still as everything around it began to dust. The glory of the town long gone. Now but a shimmer of it’s former glory. Something in the distance made you narrow your eyes. A walker dragging her feet between some cars. You set your snack aside taking out your gun. Pointing it at firm at her. Deciding whether to shoot her in the head from up here. The shot could alarm others. Sighing loud you knew you had to get up and knife her. She disappeared behind some cars out of vision as you waited for her to reappear again.

Yet she didn’t. You kept waiting finding it odd you hadn’t seen her walk by. She must have. It started to alarm you that you hadn’t seen her walk past. Grabbing your things, you jumped off the hood. Gun in the ready you went over to the car. Wanting to see for yourself what happened. Did she find someone to feed on? Did she get stuck. Trip? Got killed? A thousand alarm sirens were going off in your head. Slightly frightening you. Holding your gun out, you neared the car. Going round you expected to find her. There was no one. Till you spotted her on the ground. Blood staining the street as she’s been stabbed in the head. It meant someone was out here with you.

Having a sudden sense, you spun around ready to shoot. Glenn shot his hands up at the sight of your gun pointing at him. – “Glenn!” – you called out. – “Are you insane I could’ve killed you!” – you lowered your gun. – “What the hell are you doing here by yourself?” – he shouted back lowering his hands. – “It’s dangerous to go out on your own. What were you thinking. You could’ve blown my head off with how jumpy you are!” – He called out. – “Then don’t sneak up on people asshole!” – you replied angered that he was threating you like a little child. – “Wow.” – Glenn breathed out with half a smile.

“I’m the asshole when you’re the one who pointed a gun at me.” – he answered. You rolled with your eyes, putting your gun away. – “Hey! Did you just roll your eyes at me!” – Glenn shouted as you walked away from him. His cheeks bloated with frustration that you’d just walk away carelessly. – “Y/n!” – Glenn said coming after you. – “Maggie was worried sick.” – he called out trying to catch up with you. You blabbed some annoying words out, using your hand to show him he was nagging. Glenn came to your side blabbering mockingly at you. It made you look bothered at him. – “How mature.” – you told him. – “I’m just mimicking you.” – he teased back with a sneer.

“You want an applause for that?” – you replied sarcastically. Glenn laughed annoyingly to let you know he found you ridiculous. You slapped him annoyed against his shoulder. Glenn narrowed his glare slapping you right back. It only angered you more as you slapped him right back against his shoulder. Glenn slapped you back as well. – “I can do this all day!” – he told you. – “So can I!” – you answered giving him a slap against the back of his head.

Nothing too hard, just a playful slap. Glenn and you were making your way back to Alexandria as he moved his leg up to bump it against your bottom. It made you stumble a bit forwards. As a response you gave him a nudge. Glenn nudged you right back. You wanted to nudge him back as Glenn’s expression hardened. He grabbed you by your wrist, pulling you closer to him. You stumbled forwards, lowering your head a bit when he moved his gun over your head. Firing twice to send a walker down. – “I could’ve gotten it.” – you told him. Glenn laughed loud. – “I didn’t know you had eyes on the back of your head.”

“Didn’t you know Glenny I do.” – you had crossed your arms, throwing him a teasing smile. – “Then I suppose you see this coming.” – he spoke tapping the back of your head. – “Hey!” – you called out as he took a run for it. You started to run after him. You wanted to push him as he grabbed your hands keeping you on a distance. – “Not close enough.” – he responded pushing you away. He jogged away as you went after him.

He darted away from your attempts to push him. Like a cat and a mouse playing around. The two of you neared the gates of Alexandria still playing around. Bickering and toying around like siblings would do. Maggie was waiting at the gate’s seeing Glenn give you a little nudge. It made you stumble a bit to the side as you nudged him right back. Maggie smiling at how she saw the two of you get along. Laughing as it reminded her of when they were younger and teasing each other.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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imahinatjon · 10 months ago

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Can you write something about a reader who only focuses on what they did wrong. Like for example, they had a mission that they succeeded flawlessly in, and they know that. But they only focus on the small mistakes and how to perfect them. And after some time, Fyodor, who has started to fall in love with them, grows irritated at their unhealthy habit and decides to teach them a lesson, by overstimulating them. No worries if you don't want to write something like this

It has been WAYYY too long. I am so sorry for not getting to this sooner. But hey! Its done now. Been a busy month and my hands are killing me lol.

Anyway, here it is. Overstimulation with fyodor. Maybe out of character.

How much more?

Fyodor x Reader 18+ 💋

This was... oh THIS was irritating. Fyodor didn't send you out often, in his opinion you were too good for the lowly, mediocre jobs, so he'd wait for a better and more Important mission to send you on- he trusted you'd get the job done.

Not that he'd ever told you that.

So of course, you assume your kept behind so often because your not good enough to go on missions - without even realising that the ones you DO get assigned are the more important ones.

But how were you to know that they were important to him? You'd never seen a 'normal' job.

No normal person would ever be caught complaining to Fyodor in such a way. The only person who spoke to him so familiarly was you.

And it was ovbious he had some sort of feeling towards you, to everyone but yourself. Your colleagues weren't sure if they should worry for you or be glad you'd be somewhat protected.

Aha! But, none of that is the point, not really. The focus of this is what your doing right now - complaining again to Fyodor. Telling him all about your last mission. An astounding success it was! But... well, that one guard? He managed to spot you and alert a few other guys of your infiltration, all because you were a little too loud. I mean, you did take them down, but you have a rather nasty scratch on your arm. Only a scratch, but it hurt, and hindered the rest of your mission. Maybe if not for that first mistake. It would have gone a little more smoothly.

Fyodor really didn't care. You did the job, and you made sure it was a success, all the little details were inconsequential.

But he listened to you. Patting your head as your frowned deeply when you sat beside him.

He wanted to fix the problem. Somehow. Your constant complaining DID get annoying at times. Besides, you were seriously underselling yourself on a regular basis.

Then he had an idea.

In hindsight, a stupid idea which didn't make much sense, and wouldn't do anything to fix things in the long run, but it'd be a temporary fix.

...

That and he just really wanted to eat you out.

This little thought of his, an impulse he'd never have acted on if he wasn't already a little ticked is what landed you on your back, sprawled over a sofa, fyodor gently massaging your genitalia, ghosting gently over all your most sensitive parts with his cold hands.

Occasionally he'd hit that one spot, making you flinch with a cold shiver up your spine and your hips twitch.

You sighed quietly, he was slow, and it was relaxing, blissful, and then you felt something warm fan over you.

Opening your eyes you spied his mouth closing in on you, ready to take in your essence.

"W-wait!" You yelped

Fyodor stopped and looked up, expectantly, he wanted an explanation

"Its not... I'm... what if it doesn't... it won't taste... Good?" You weren't sure hoe exactly it should he said. You were sure whatever he wanted to do would feel heavenly, and you desperately wanted him to continue, but doubts persisted.

He sighed.

"Any more complaining and I'm not letting you come"

'What?' You thought to yourself. He was harsh, and you were sure he would stick to his word should you complain again, but, his hand squeezed yor thight gently. A subtle message 'its okay'

And he was soon back between your legs, tongue working wonders, one hand over your stomach, arm keeping you still, the other toying where his mouth was absent.

He moved around a lot, switching his attention to various parts of your body, bringing you closer and closer to an edge you would soon reach.

You felt your muscles tighten, his hair run between your fingers, and you were sure you must have called his name at some point as your mouth was open and throat a little dry.

You needed some water.

But something was stopping you after your climax. A sensation that slightly ached, made you wince and look down. Fyodor was still going. He has to know you've already come right? Surely...?

Of course he knew.

But you hadn't much time to entertain his intentions as your next orgasm was ready to crash down upon you like a tidle wave, more intense than the previous.

He shifted, leaning up over you.

"Think you can come again..."

You wanted to shake your head no...

But... the I

Thoughts of what he could do to you... this was a change you didn't get everyday.

All you could do was weakly nod. Even if all your insides all felt tight, even if it ached slightly, even if you grew tired... you wanted to take everything he would give to you.

Just like another mission. How much could you take?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good?

#imagine #fanfic #bungou stray dogs #x reader #lemon #smut #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor

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nesaluvstherecoms · 7 months ago

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Extreme mental strain, mentions of male masturbation.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐒𝐒𝐃𝐃

The sound of light solid taps is the only thing that can be heard through the dark office. Y/N’s breathing is soft, steady, calm, as it accompanies the sounds of the electronic pen writing on the screen of her touchpad. The lights of her spacious office are off, letting only the dim light from outside penetrate through the large glass-panel windows behind her and illuminate her surroundings. It’s almost eclipse.

Y/N’s sharp eyes follow the tip of her pen as she writes, summarizing her team’s new report for General Ardmore. The tip of her tail sways softly at her side, draped over the right arm of her expensive, cushioned desk chair. It’s the end of the week and she has been in her office all day, reviewing reports. It has been a good week overall. Her team have been able to eliminate multiple Na’vi groups and take over their territories, allowing the troops to start treating the land to set new grounds for the RDA. Captain Keller, Lieutenant Álvarez and Lieutenant Jones have led multiple units to success, almost flawlessly even in this new environment, Sergeant Davis has adapted his ability to plan attacks in said environment perfectly, and the rest of her team have been outstanding as well. Ardmore is happy, the contractors are happy, and most importantly, her team seems to be happy. She should be proud of them, she really should, and she is. But since day one, she can’t help but feel a weird weight in the bottom of her gut. She tells herself it’s just because she isn’t used to this, and she agrees. It will take some time to adapt, but she’ll get there.

With a final tap, she finishes the report and quickly puts her elegant signature at the bottom. Putting the electronic pen aside, she lets its magnetic side stick to the right side of her touchpad. Y/N pushes her desk chair slightly back and reaches upwards, stretching her elegant body and cracking her spine and tail. With a sigh of relief, she turns her chair around and leans back, resting her body comfortably on the thick cushioned lining. Her eyes immediately fall on the landscape outside, well not much of a landscape but it’s still better than looking at reports for hours. The dull colors outside don’t do much for the eye but Y/N doesn’t mind. Her eyes move to the sky, watching aimlessly as her mind continues its train of thought again. One report however, had not been to her liking. Three high-value prisoners free, a high-value target on the run and five Recombinants dead.

Y/N clenches her jaw. It’s been only two months and already five Recoms have been KIAd. A shiver runs down her spine. Recoms. Just like her. Just like her squad. How? How could this have happened? She watches as the eclipse happens in the sky, blocking the rest of the light rays, plunging the world outside into darkness. Bridgehead turns on its night lights, illuminating the city as some vehicles stop moving, the workers wrapping up their workdays as others come out to start their night shifts.

A knock on her office door brings her out of her thoughts. She turns around to press a button from the control panel on her desk and the door slides open. The comforting figure of her Captain steps into her office, stopping a few steps away from her desk and saluting her.

“General.” John acknowledges softly but firmly. Y/N nods, smiling softly.

“John.” She greets. “At ease.”

Captain Keller lowers his arm, giving her a friendly smile as he shuffles once on his feet.

“I apologize if I am disturbing ma’am, but General Ardmore requests your presence in the Neurolab.”

Y/N raises her brows. The Neurolab? That’s a bit of an odd location for Ardmore to be in.

“I see. Is there a problem?” She asks, as she stands up from her desk. John looks at her, as she makes her way around her desk to stand in front of him, looking up at him from her side. He purses his lips slightly before responding in his deep and raspy tone.

“Turns out Colonel Quaritch did not lose all of his captives after all.”

Y/N has gotten used to the eyes following her everywhere she walks by now. Her high rank, her demeanor and her intimidating size attract attention everywhere she goes. But this kind of attention has been following her her whole life, even before waking up as a Recom, with people staring at her; some in admiration, some in judgement, some in curiosity and some in just lust. By now, it doesn’t bother her, and if it wasn’t for the way she has been conditioned to pay attention to everything around her, she wouldn’t even notice. So now, as she walks through the corridors of the Ops center, with John following behind her and towering over the humans walking around, she ignores the multiple pairs of eyes that follow their moving figures. They turn a corner to a corridor with less people and Y/N turns her head towards her team Captain.

“So, about this prisoner. Tell me more.” She says as they keep on walking together towards the designated place. John takes a sip of carbon dioxide, letting his lungs fill up nicely, before responding to his General.

“It’s a human boy. Raised mostly in the wild by the resistance and the natives. Deceased Colonel Quaritch’s son.” He replies, watching as Y/N raises a brow disapprovingly.

“Son? He had a child?” She asks, her cropped ears folding back slightly. John nods.

“Yes ma’am. He got one of his scorpion pilots pregnant when he was still alive, resulting in the boy. The mother died in the war and the kid was left with the resistance.” He informs her. Y/N scoffs in amusement, shaking her head, and her tail swings a couple of times behind her.

“So not only did he give leverage to the traitor for months, but he was fraternizing with his own pilots too? Talk about populating Pandora.” She comments and John chuckles, shaking his head. Y/N brings the mask of her Recom Breather up to her face and takes a filling sip of carbon dioxide, before lowering it and talking to John again.

“How come the boy was not sent back to Earth, like everyone else?”

John takes a sip from his mask as well before speaking.

“He was too young. Babies cannot be put in cryo sleep.”

Y/N hums, turning her line of vision away for a moment before looking back at him.

“And he is important to us how exactly?”

“He’s been with Sully’s family for years, grown up with the kids. He knows every single Na’vi operation, the location of their main base, everything. If the science department manage to force this information out of him then we have hit the jackpot.” John replies. Y/N nods slowly, grabbing her mask again and moving it up to her face. New thoughts start roaming her mind, processing the new information.

“I see.”

。。。

Miles’ head is in multiple places at once. Firstly, his team’s encounter in the forest still has him and his troopers shaken. Five of their own are dead, gone in a matter of seconds. He believes his team will get over their deaths soon, they are soldiers after all, they have lost people before. But what bothers him the most is the human boy he never thought he would see again. Young Miles. Quaritch’s steps are firm as he walks through the corridors of the Ops center, with Wainfleet following close behind. Miles’ tail moves slowly behind him, as him and his Lieutenant move towards the Neurolab, both Recoms silent. Lyle’s eyes remain on the back of Miles’ head, trying to figure out the current mood of his Colonel. After all, they have just found his predecessor’s son. That must be shocking even to Miles himself. But up until now, the Colonel has shown no emotions towards the situation. As soon as they returned to base, he handed the boy in Ardmore’s troops’ hands like he was as valuable as any other prisoner. But a few moments ago, as soon as he had heard that the boy would be strapped to the DPF’s NeuroSect E7.2T scanner, he was immediately on his feet and out the door, with Lyle following behind. So Wainfleet cannot make out exactly what the Colonel is feeling. He tries to read his body language, watching his tail and his ears but they do not show any sign of his emotions either. With his eyes still on his Colonel, Lyle brings the Recom Breather mask up to his face and takes a sip of carbon dioxide. Well, he’s about to figure out what Miles is thinking, as they are now heading straight for the Neurolab down the corridor.

。。。

As Y/N and John turn the corner to finally be in front of the Neurolab, he is suddenly pulled back and pressed against the wall, put out of sight from the entrance. His first instinct is to fight and then react but the one who has pulled him back is Y/N.

“General?” He questions as Y/N presses herself against the wall as well. She shushes him, her eyes carefully inspecting the front of the Neurolab. John follows her line of vision and a few moments later, two pairs of heavy combat boots echo through the corridor. What he can only assume is Colonel Quaritch and his Lieutenant, as far as John remembers from the holograms shown to him and Y/N in the Holofloor the first day they arrived, pass through and wait for the door of the Neurolab to open. The metal doors slide open and Wainfleet is the first to move a step inside, but Quaritch doesn’t move. Instead his head is raised slightly up and he’s looking around, his tail now swinging faster behind him. His brows furrow in concentration as he seems to be searching around for something. Wainfleet, who has now stepped a foot in the lab, turns to his commander with a raised eyebrow.

“Colonel?”

Quaritch looks around for a bit more, amber eyes searching for whatever has suddenly caught his attention, but when he doesn’t find it, he shakes his head with a displeased expression on his face and heads inside the Neurolab. The doors slide closed after him and Wainfleet walk in, and Y/N removes herself from the wall. John turns his head towards her, giving her a questioning look.

“What was that for?” He asks. Y/N doesn’t answer, instead she looks thoughtfully at a blank spot on the floor for a moment, before she raises her head again and turns to him.

“We best not make our presence known. I want to see how this unfolds.”

“Where is Jake Sully?”

“I don’t know!” Screams the boy in fear, his voice cracking from the strain he puts on his exhausted throat. The DPF’s NeuroSect E7.2T scanner where he is strapped on, spins in flashing green lights, with a whirring sound that fills the Neurolab.

“We know that you know.” Ardmore presses.

Quaritch watches intently, leaning with one arm on the glass panel of the Neurolab’s brain imaging booth.

“I don’t know!” The boy screams again.

“Just form a picture in your mind.” Ardmore says nonchalantly, lowering her head briefly to check the screen of the scanner. “Is it one of the floating mountains?”

“Let me out of here!” He replies back.

Inside the brain imaging booth, Wainfleet bends down to check the holo display of the boy’s brain, watching as different colors highlight the different brain states that he is going through, with the scanner feeding it visual memories in real time. The corporate man next to Quaritch turns around towards one of the scientists analyzing the hologram.

“Hey, he’s fighting this.” He states as Quaritch turns around as well, grabbing the mask of his Recom Breather and bringing it up to his face.

“Give us a minute.” The scientist replies, walking closer to the woman scientist analyzing the brain with him. Meanwhile, the boy continues to scream in the background.

“I don’t know!”

Ardmore purses her lips, slowly starting to get annoyed as she stares him down.

“Just form a thought.” She says while shaking her head, her voice starting to get laced in irritation. “And we will see it.”

“I don’t know!”

Quaritch slowly moves behind the holo display of the boy’s brain. His cropped ears raise up as he stares at it in curiosity. He shifts in place, brows slowly furrowing the more he looks at it.

“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do!” Ardmore says, finally raising her voice and showing her frustration. It’s been forty minutes, she has shit to do, but instead she’s stuck here interrogating this filthy kid who somehow isn’t budging. And where is L/N, she asked for her fifty minutes ago! The boy screams in pain as a sharp throb stabs down the center of his brain.

“Which clans would be harboring him?” Ardmore presses.

“I don’t know!” He screams yet again in pain, this time faster. “You’re gonna have to kill me!”

At that last sentence Miles’ eyes narrow down dangerously. His ears fold back and he glares at the hologram, before a displeased expression plasters on his face, his upper lip twitching upwards once. He bends down just like Wainfleet did, to get a closer look at the pulsing electric waves that run through the neurons of the hologram brain in a neon orange color. The boy’s screams continue in the background.

“Watch this, you’re peaking all over the prefrontal.” The male scientist who spoke earlier tells the female scientist as she scrambles with a datapad that analyzes the boy’s brain further.

“It’s not gonna stop until you give us something. Where is he?!” Ardmore continues, this time irritation showing fully through the tone of her voice. The boy screams more, his body now starting to shake against the scanner.

“I don’t know you assholes, okay?! I don’t know!” He screams harder, his voice cracking again through the sentence. Quaritch has had enough.

With fast, heavy steps he moves swiftly to the control panel outside of the brain imaging booth, pressing his palm down on the red shut off button. The whirring sound of the scanner slowls down and the spinning panels slow down with it until they stop moving completely and the sound that has been filling the Neurolab for almost fifty minutes stops, plunging the room in silence. Ardmore turns around, snapping her head back to get a look of the person who just shut off the scanner. Miles removes his massive hand from the control panel and straightens his posture, looking back at the General with the tip of his tail slightly raised while Wainfleet walks out of the booth and stands a few feet away from his Colonel. The boy pants heavily, eyes now half lidded and blood leaking out of his left nostril. With slow and soft strides, trying to approach the situation carefully, Quaritch gets closer to the General. His vision falls on the boy for a bit before he turns his back to him and moves his head closer to Ardmore. Maintaining reassuring eye contact with her, he speaks.

“General, let me… try the personal angle.” He says with a nod and ears folded back, voice raspy and firm. Ardmore stares intensively into his eyes, disbelief plastered on her face. She snaps her head towards the boy before turning to look at Quaritch with her mouth slightly agape in irritation.

“He’s not your son.” She tells him, glaring into his eyes warningly. Quaritch knows that there’s a hint of threat in her tone, and he doesn’t say anything but maintain the eye contact. Ardmore purses her lips and gives him one last stare before turning her head forward and walking down the steps of the scanner. Quaritch’s eyes follow her, turning his head towards her form until she steps on the floor of the Neurolab. Without any more words she strides off. Wainfleet steps out of her way and gives her a respectful head nod as she leaves and Quaritch turns his head towards the boy still strapped on the scanner. He reaches in and unstraps him, yanking the leads off of him. Two strong, muscled arms reach towards the boy’s figure and pull him out of the scanner. With exhausted and half lidded eyes he stares up at the Recombinant that is now carrying his weak body in his arms. Quaritch chuckles.

“Tough guy, huh? How’s that workin’ out for you?” He says softly to the kid before wiping his bloody nose with his thumb. He turns around and with heavy strides, starts making his way towards the door. Wainfleet watches him before following behind, as scientists and personnel watch them with wide eyes. Right as the two Recoms are about to exit, yet again Quaritch stops. With a curious stare he turns around, eyes frantically searching again for something that has caught his attention. Wainfleet raises a brow again, trying to figure out what is up with his Colonel today, but before he can start thinking too much of it, Quaritch has turned back towards the exit and has now stepped out. Wainfleet follows, the two pairs of combat boots thudding heavily on the metal floors, before the doors slide closed behind them.

。。。

Miles clenches his jaw as they walk through the hallway. That scent. That mind numbing scent. That scent that he smelled again. Just like the one that was lingering around the entrance of the Neurolab when he arrived. Similar to the one he fisted his cock to in the ISV Vindicator. She’s around here somewhere. He knows it.

。。。

In the second story of the Neurolab, Y/N and Captain Keller slowly get closer to the rail that lets them look down upon the brain imaging booth and the scanner. Y/N brings her Recom Breather mask up to her face and takes a deep sip, filling her lungs with the much needed carbon dioxide. John chuckles in disbelief, his amber eyes staring at the now empty scanner, before he turns his head towards her.

“Did you see that, General?” He asks, his raspy voice clearly displaying disapproval. Y/N’s stare onto the scanner is hard and filled with distaste. She removes the mask from her face and her cropped ears fold back slightly before speaking in a serious tone.

“Damn right I saw.”

After attending some important matters, Ardmore heads towards her office to review a few reports and then finish work for the day. After all, eclipse has fallen long ago and everyone has already wrapped up their shifts. But being the RDA’s Expeditionary Force Commander, she cannot rest so easily like the rest of the people on base, as the future of humanity is ultimately upon her shoulders. These thoughts roam her mind as she walks through the now dead and quiet corridors, her footsteps echoing through the hallways. After a few seconds, she arrives in front of her office door, pressing her keycard to the scanner on the right side. The door slides open and she takes a step inside before her senses heighten alarmingly as her eyes fall on the large blue figure in her office. Instinctively, her hand flies to her handgun but a further look at the Na’vi and she sighs, releasing her grip on the firearm.

“For fucks sake, L/N.”

Y/N gives her a grin, sat on one of the couches in Ardmore’s office with her legs one over the other on top of the coffee table in front of the piece of furniture.

“Apologies for my unannounced presence, General.” She replies, fidgeting with a combat knife as she continues sitting comfortably on the couch. Ardmore frowns at her once before stepping into the office, the door sliding closed behind her. She walks to her desk and takes off the holster along with the gun, placing it on top of the surface before turning away.

“Not only did you not attend to my side when I asked you to today, but you also made yourself comfortable in my office without my permission, after the work day nonetheless. Care to explain yourself?” She asks coldly, walking to the coffee machine in the corner of her office and turning it on.

“Ah, apologies, I plead guilty for the second charge. Not for the first one though.” Y/N says with a chuckle, running her elegant blue fingers over the black blade. “Coffee at night, General? I thought you were the healthy type.”

Ardmore huffs once in amusement, grabbing a standard-issue RDA coffee mug from a cupboard nearby and putting it under the coffee dispenser.

“When the fate of humanity is on your shoulders, you’ve thrown health out the window a long time ago.” She replies, turning around to lean against the table that the coffee machine and a few other assortments are on, and facing Y/N. Ardmore crosses her arms over her chest as the machine starts buzzing.

“So, why are you here?” She presses. Y/N’s eyes fall on her before she lowers her feet from the coffee table and sits up on the couch. She tucks the knife into its sheath on her gear and places her elbows on top of her knees, leaning forward.

“I was there today. In the Neurolab. Captain Keller informed me as you requested and I complied. However, as I was about to enter the lab, Colonel Quaritch and his Lieutenant approached the lab as well. I did not want to make my presence known so I stayed out of sight. But I was there. I attempted to catch up to you after but your assistant informed me that you were occupied with some important matters. So I came over here and waited.”

Ardmore raises a brow, looking back at Y/N, expecting something more. Y/N catches on to her expression and sighs, reaching into one of the pockets of her tactical pants to pull out a small metal card with a magnetic strip. She puts it on top of the coffee table like she’s making a peace offering and places her elbow on top of her knee again.

“Yes, I did steal the keycard that unlocks the door to your office from your assistant. But to my defense, I did not know when you’d be returning. Besides, I don’t think he has noticed yet.” Y/N says, giving Ardmore a mischievous smile. Ardmore sighs heavily, turning around to press a button on the coffee machine and with a whirring buzz, it starts dispensing the hot drink into the mug below.

“Get to the point.” She says shortly, the tiredness from the day’s events catching up to her as she reaches for a packet of sugar on the table. Y/N nods slowly and looks away briefly. Her eyes fall on Ardmore’s pistol on top of the desk and she runs her vision over it for a while.

“What do you think of Quaritch’s actions today?” She asks after a brief moment of silence. Ardmore stops her movements for a few seconds, before pouring the contents of the packet into the coffee and grabbing a small spoon from a container next to the sugar packets.

“Are you trying to hint at something?” She responds, not replying to Y/N’s question. Y/N’s ears fold back and she shifts briefly in place.

“Come on, General. I saw your suspicion and disapproval as he shut off the scanner and asked to interrogate the boy himself. You can’t tell me you don’t think that he’s onto something.” Y/N finally presses, watching the back of Ardmore’s head carefully. Ardmore stirs her coffee slowly, grabbing the mug by the handle and turning towards Y/N again. She continues stirring her drink as she looks over at the Recom whose eyes are now flashing in a dangerous glint.

“I know what you’re trying to say. Yes, his actions seemed questionable to me because of the link the boy holds to the original Miles Quaritch. However, I don’t think anything is going on. If the scanner can’t get the information out of the prisoner then the personal approach that Quaritch will be attempting tomorrow might lead us to something.” She replies. Y/N clenches her jaw, swallowing down the saliva in her mouth before trying again.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I think you’re overlooking something that can turn into a problem later on. He’s clearly fond of the kid. He did not turn the scanner off to try and suggest interrogating the boy, he did it to save his life. I know desperation when I see it. A few more minutes in the scanner and the kid’s brain would have been leaking out of his ears. No commanding officer saves a prisoner of war like that just for the purpose of an interrogation. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to risk having an officer in my ranks who has a soft spot for a prisoner who serves our enemy.” Y/N says, looking carefully at Ardmore who has now stopped stirring and is looking back at her with a thoughtful expression. She then inhales deeply and looks away for a brief moment, before raising the mug up to her lips and taking a sip.

“I appreciate your concern, L/N. But for now, I think you’re being a bit too paranoid. However, I will be watching Quaritch more carefully, if that puts your mind at ease. For now, focus on your own team and your missions, and let me do my job and deal with my own personnel.”

Y/N clenches her jaw again, clearly disappointed at the reply she received. She thinks about it but she does not argue. Instead, with a deep sigh, she leans back onto the couch, defeated.

“As you wish, ma’am.” She replies with a bored tone, turning her vision to the handgun on the desk again.

Ardmore walks to her desk and sits down, putting the coffee mug on top of the wood surface. Y/N slowly reaches forward for the pistol, her size allowing her to do so and she takes the firearm into her hands. With a pleased expression, she starts inspecting it while Ardmore turns on her personal datapad to take a look at some reports.

“A .40 caliber United Ballistics Zarkov-33, huh. Not bad, some of my troopers use the Recom version of this too. Powerful firearm. I see why it’s our standard. Though, I’d expect you to have something more personalized, General.” Y/N comments, inspecting the tactical light-laser and rangefinder on top of the muzzle of the gun.

“Yeah? Like this?” Ardmore replies nonchalantly, her eyes still on the datapad as she reaches down and pulls out her high magazine MIL-SPEC 502. Y/N’s eyes sparkle like a kid as she sees the sidearm being put on top of the desk and she puts the Z-33 Pistol next to the keycard on top of the coffee table and immediately reaches for the new gun. She inspects it carefully from the harness system to the grip and the 16 round magazine, muttering a little “damn” under her breath as she admires the weapon with her tail swinging side to side behind her. Ardmore slowly takes another sip of her coffee, before putting the mug down and speaking to her with her eyes still on the report.

“Now please get out of my office.”

Y/N’s ears fold back as she realizes that she’s been playing with a gun like a cat with a yarn ball while occupying her commander’s office.

“Right.” She replies, putting the second gun down on the coffee table as well and standing up.

“Good night, General.” She says in a firm tone, saluting Ardmore respectfully before turning around and heading out. As the door slides closed behind her, Ardmore sighs and takes another sip of her coffee. This is going to be a long night.

“Can you believe this? They’re helpless. Absolutely fuckin’ helpless.” Riley huffs out, raspy voice laced with irritation as he moves with his usual heavy steps and hands clasped behind his back. Y/N stands between him and Scott, the three of them walking through the training fields as soldiers run around under the sun, doing their daily drills. A bit further away, aircrafts take off and land, trains and vehicles move relentlessly, creating a noisy and busy atmosphere around them as Bridgehead city buzzes in activity as always.

“I’ve seen fuckin’ pigs more coordinated than this.”

Scott hums, raising a brow at Riley’s last comment.

“Oh com’ on LT. They jus’ stepped foot hier. Give ‘em a break, will ya?” He replies, looking at Riley who in return turns to stare at him.

“A fuckin’ break?! What do you think we’re doing here, playing nanny? We’re at war for fuck’s sake. Pull your head out of your arse.”

Y/N sighs, as Scott and Riley start going at it once again. Riley has recently been put in charge of training new recruits into enforcing the protection of Bridgehead city, seeing that Y/N and ALPHA have now taken over a good amount of Na’vi land territories, putting Bridgehead into the center of the natives’ attention. And as you might imagine, the man is not happy with his new troops’ level of skills. Not in the slightest bit. He’s been training them relentlessly, to the point that multiple recruits have passed out or thrown their guts up on the training field, for which in both cases they have gotten harsh punishment. Scott has disagreed to this for weeks now, arguing that these are the only soldiers they have available at the moment and if Riley continues like this he’ll kill them in no time, besides, the recruits that arrive on Bridgehead are already trained and what Riley is doing is unnecessary. He persistently repeats that they cannot afford to loose troops, skilled or not, because human capital is sacred on Pandora.

Y/N raises a gloved hand, stopping their argument on the spot, as they both give each other one last glare and fall quiet, turning to look at their commander.

“Riley is correct. We cannot have recruits this undertrained, especially during a time of uprising tensions. I’ll have a chat with General Ardmore about this. It seems that we need to establish new requirements for who can board on Pandora as a trooper.”

And with that both men nod and the argument is wrapped up.

“Hahaha she still pacifies you both. Better start calling her mommy.”

The three of them turn towards Lieutenant Álvarez and Captain Keller who are walking towards them, with John chuckling at Fernando’s comment. Riley scowls and Scott grins as the two higher ranking officers approach with lazy, heavy strides, hands clasped behind their carrier plates.

“I’m not listening to the comments of a man who got shot on his ass by the cartel.” Riley replies which makes Scott burst in laughter.

“Oh I forgot ‘bout tha’.” He says in between laughs as Fernando and John are now standing with them on the training ground. “Ye literally ran around the battlefield with a bullet up yer ass.”

Y/N hides a smile at Scott’s last comment as Riley and John laugh, with Fernando cracking a smile as well. After they all finish laughing he turns his head towards the recruits training some meters away from them. His tail flicks behind him in curiosity and he speaks to Riley without moving his eyes from the soldiers.

“I see you’re still not going easy on them.” He says as he watches the exhausted men and women try to not break down in the middle of the exercises.

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ embarrassing. These are the people we’re supposed to colonize with. Pathetic.” Riley replies as all five of them are now watching the recruits. A few seconds later one of the men stops running, absolutely exhausted to the point that his body cannot move anymore and he remains behind while the group that is running laps continues. This only feeds into Riley’s irritation and with a booming voice, he yells.

“AY PRIVATE! WHAT THE FUCK?! SO WE JUST STANDING AROUND PLAYING WITH COCKS NOW?!”

His voice booms throughout the training field and multiple recruits flinch at the sound, staring up at the Recom in horror for a brief second before continuing their exercises. The poor recruit, a young man, flinches at the yelling, and stares at Riley in shock and fear.

“MOVE YER FUCKIN’ ARSE! STOP STARING AT ME LIKE YER WAITING FOR ME TO BLOW A DAMN LOAD ON YOUR FACE!” The Recombinant yells again. The terrified recruit gathers all of the strength he has left and scrams away, trying to hide in the line of the group running laps. Riley sighs in frustration, bringing his gloved hand up to rub the flat bridge of his nose as the rest of the Recoms chuckle.

“This looks like fun. I might be the one training them one of these days.” Y/N comments, crossing her arms as she watches the recruits in amusement and Riley scoffs in reply.

“Be my guest, General.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The Recoms turn around to see Sergeant Herrera approaching them, walking with her usual swaying hips and cocky demeanor, tail moving slowly behind her. The rest give her a friendly nod as they see her walk closer and she smiles.

“General. Captain. Lieutenants. Sergeant.” She greets them all accordingly before turning to Y/N.

“General, Sergeant Davis has made another strategic plan for taking over the west forest area above the border, and he wants you to go over it. He’s currently with the science department, in the main labs, consulting them on a few details. When you have the time, your presence would be appreciated.”

Y/N hums, uncrossing her arms and turning to her.

“Thank you, Maria. Well, I’ll see you later then gentlemen. I hope the training goes well, Lieutenant Jones. I’ll speak to Ardmore tomorrow about the whole thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” They reply in unison.

The men nod, saluting her respectfully and without further ado, Y/N turns and walks away, leaving them and Maria alone on the training field. As she moves away, they all turn towards watching the recruits again, with Riley’s irritation back in check.

“NOW DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME FIFTY, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Y/N doesn’t particularly hate the science department. But she doesn’t like them either. They’re just there, existing in the same space as her and her troops, and she pays them no mind. The only person from her team that interacts with them on a regular is Henry Davis. Being the Master Gunnery Sergeant, he is the one responsible for coming up with new strategies, tactics and plans. That includes constantly consulting the science department on Pandora’s flora and fauna, so every possibility in a mission can be accounted for. And up until now, he has done amazing. Not only have his strategies never failed once, but he has managed to learn a vast amount of information about Pandora in an incredibly short time. To say that Y/N is very proud would be an understatement.

This is what she’s thinking as she walks through the corridors to get to the science department building. Her steps are lazy as she is in no rush, taking her time and looking around here and there. She takes a turn to a larger corridor that connects the main labs to the headquarters of the department, a spacious tunnel that also connects other parts of the building to each other. As she sets her eyes on the doors of the labs, something pounces at the corner of her vision. In a flash, Y/N has already drawn out her most powerful handgun, pointing the muzzle at the thing that now looks up at her with its yellow eyes. A viperwolf. Y/N’s senses are now fully alarmed and locked in on the creature that has stopped moving and lowered its body closer to the floor in caution, with its six limbs bent. Creatures like this have attacked her forces before. They are extremely hostile and lethal to humans. So how the fuck did an animal like this get in here? Breathing getting faster, she keeps the gun pointed at it and sensing the danger, the viperwolf clenches its snake like jaw and bares its obsidian teeth at her, growling warningly at the Recom. Y/N pulls back the slide of her gun, ready to shoot the thing dead if it tries anything. The animal growls harder, moving one clawed hand forward, and just as Y/N is about to pull the trigger-

“DON’T SHOOT HIM!”

At the sound of the feminine voice, the viperwolf runs away towards it. Y/N scowls, snapping back towards the voice to try and get a peak of the person who has let this thing loose. Her breath catches right in her throat.

Standing a few feet away from her, is the most beautiful woman that Y/N has ever laid eyes on. Flowing long locks of black hair with a few interlocked braids fall on her shoulders, bringing forth her gorgeous, beautiful face with big amber eyes that look at Y/N carefully. She is dressed in a dark blue and black uniform that Y/N has never seen before, but it has the RDA’s logo. It’s tight fitting to her thin, elegant Na’vi body, the top cropped right above her cleavage, showing a pair of firm collarbones. Her tail moves slowly behind her, still cautious at the possibility that Y/N might shoot the animal which is now hiding behind her long, elegant legs. Are all Na’vi women so breathtaking beautiful? Realizing that she’s ogling, Y/N clears her throat and relaxes her posture, putting the handgun back in its holster.

“Care to explain why you have a wild animal, nevertheless a viperwolf, running around base?” She speaks, regaining her commander voice as her ears fold back and she pins the woman with a stare. The girl’s eyes take in Y/N from head to toe, before they fall on her tail which is moving side to side behind her, betraying her hardened soldier composure. A playful smile falls on her lips and she turns her doe eyes to Y/N’s face.

“He is not a wild animal, ma’am. He is my friend. I raised him since he was a tiny cub. You’re the one who drew her weapon at an unprovoked animal.” She replies, crossing her toned arms over her chest. The woman’s soothing voice prickles goosebumps on Y/N’s skin, soft and tranquil to the ear. But Y/N is a master at hiding emotions. She scowls at the girl, raising a brow disapprovingly as she stares her judgmentally up and down.

“I’m sorry, did you say “friend”? I knew you science department chicks had a few screws loose but I didn’t think it was this bad.” She replies with a condescending tone. But instead of getting offended, the girl chuckles. That catches Y/N off guard briefly, and she looks at her with a questioning expression. The woman turns her eyes to Y/N’s, looking into them through her long lashes with an amused smile and she starts walking towards the General. Y/N can’t help but stare as even her walk is attention catching, so elegant yet humble, her long tail swinging playfully side to side. The viperwolf follows behind her, staying close to her long and toned legs and rubbing its body on her calves. She stops in front of Y/N, careful to not get into her personal space, and brings her right hand forward for a handshake.

“Name’s Toddy. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, General. You have a feared reputation ‘round ‘ere. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She says with a smile, waiting for Y/N to engage in the handshake. Y/N can’t help but notice a faint southern drawl in her way of speaking, and she looks down at her hand, admiring the elegant veins on it for a second, before clasping it with her own. Five fingers. Thankfully not a native.

“Recombinant?” Y/N asks as they shake hands, noticing how her palm is pleasantly warm. Toddy shakes her head.

“Avatar.” She replies as they end the handshake. “Though I wish I could maintain a Na’vi body permanently.”

Y/N chuckles, crossing her arms.

“It’s not a blessing. Trust me. Try sleeping with a tail and a neural whip. Nine times out of ten you’ll crush them with your body or an elbow and you’ll wake up hissing in pain.” She replies and Toddy giggles, her tail moving behind her in delight.

“If I could have this body forever, I’d take my chances. So, what brings you to these parts of base, General? Here for Sergeant Davis I assume?”

Y/N nods once as she lightly shifts in place, with her cropped ears slightly folding back in approval. Toddy notices them and her eyes narrow for a split second, before she gives Y/N a smile.

“Well then, follow me.”

。。。

Toddy brings Y/N to one of the main labs, probably the biggest one. The viperwolf follows behind them, staying close to Toddy and occasionally looking around. The lab is noisy and filled with personnel, people running around with datapads, samples and lab equipment, some of them in white coats some others in corporate attire. Everyone seems to be deep in work, not lifting their heads from what they’re doing and deep in conversations with each other. Y/N turns to Toddy as they both walk amongst them.

“It’s quite busy in here. The scientists who we see in our parts of base aren’t usually this erratic in work. Is everyday like this?” She asks, looking at the woman next to her. Toddy shakes her head.

“Not usually. It’s often quite chill in here, people mind their own research in their labs. But since that prisoner that Colonel Quaritch brought in resisted the DPF’s NeuroSect E7.2T scanner yesterday, everyone has been scrambling to figure out a way for it to not happen again. No one has been able to understand what went wrong until now, and that’s a big problem.” She explains, looking back at Y/N. “The scanner is an extremely important tool not only for the department, but for the entire mission. It is the primary way of how we figure out different things about Pandora from the memories of the native’s, avatar’s and our own people, without having to go outside and risk our lives to gain information. If a human boy can fight it then it raises a huge uncertainty if we can use it again in the future.”

Y/N looks away in thought, watching the people around them as they make way for the two larger women and the animal to pass through the human sized facility. She then turns back to Toddy.

“So, what’s your specialization? Some fancy zoology shit?” She asks as she gives the viperwolf a glance at that last sentence and Toddy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Oh? Is the General interested in me?” She says, tilting her head teasingly with a smile and Y/N scoffs, furrowing her brows like a nine year old who has been told that her playground buddy has a crush on her. That makes Toddy chuckle.

“I’m not a scientist. I’m a scout.” She then replies, turning her head to look forward as to not bump into any humans.

“A scout? What’s that? Like the rangers we have in our department?” Y/N asks with a raised brow, moving away a female scientist that nearly walks into her.

“No, not really. Your rangers are responsible for surprise raids on the Na’vi in the forest. My job on the other hand is to go into the wild to gather the samples that the scientists and the medics require for their research or other uses.” Toddy replies, turning her hips slightly to show Y/N the sample storing bag secured on her belt. “I wouldn’t be considered a scientist since I don’t do research, but I am very well informed about the ecosystems of Pandora, as well as all of its species. At least the ones humanity has been able to discover and research up until now.”

Y/N nods once, looking slightly intrigued.

“So I’m assuming you know your way around the forest then.” She says, tilting her head slightly. Toddy grins.

“Like the back of my hand.”

They have now arrived to a spacious lab room where a bunch of specialists in white coats are talking to the large male Recom amongst them, wearing ALPHA’s casual uniform. Y/N watches momentarily as Henry continues to converse with them, before turning to the beautiful woman next to her who has been eyeing Y/N’s pretty face for a few seconds now.

“This is where we part then.”

Toddy smiles, watching Y/N through her lashes with her doe eyes before reaching for a final handshake.

“Maybe I could show you ‘round the forest sometime, General. Without the uniform and the high caliber destructive weapons.” She replies, her long ears slightly raising up as she says the last sentence to Y/N. The General grasps her hand, giving it a firm shake before letting go.

“I’ll think about it, Toddy.”

“Well alright then.”

And with that, Toddy gives Y/N one final beautiful smile before turning around and walking away. Her steps are calm and her posture is relaxed as she walks, taking her time to move her hips to her own rhythm and leisure while her tail moves side to side behind her. The viperwolf follows behind, with the paddled end of its tail wagging behind it. Y/N now notices the collar on its neck, dark blue and black that match its owner’s uniform, the dark colors almost making it blend completely to the black skin of its neck. She shakes her head and turns towards the room where Henry has now noticed his General, before walking inside.

Title explanation:

SSDD - Same Shit, Different Day.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

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gretavanlace · 2 years ago

Text

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol consumption, flirting, light impact play, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), etc

Inspired by this gorgeous little bit and this one, too. You’re all evil geniuses ❤️💋

“Seriously, what is wrong with you three?” Danny grabs the pool stick out of Sam’s hand and shoves him aside. “Is being a shitty pool player a prerequisite for being a Kiszka?”

“In fact, it is!” Josh sounds off, leaning against the table, finger idly dragging over the kelly green felt. “They pull us all aside in the hospital directly after birth, and say…hmm, I’ve forgotten, it seems. Samuel?”

Sammy takes a long chug of his fruity pink drink around a nod. “They say,” he gestures grandly, so much like his eldest sibling at the moment. “Be as useless as possible if you ever get your hands on a pool stick. Fuck every play up royally, for this…this is your duty. It’s all very dramatic.”

“Ah yes,” Josh raises his glass in thanks. “That’s it, little brother. Good man, better memory.”

“Idiots.” Danny shakes his head, and sinks three striped balls before scratching and turning in your direction. “Jake, you’re up.”

Jake rises from his stool beside you where he’s been watching the scene unfold with a gentle hand on your bare thigh.

“My time to shine, kitty cat.” He plunks his neat whiskey down and swaggers away, calling over his shoulder. “Prepare to witness mediocrity at its finest.”

“Mediocre would be a compliment.” Danny adds with another shake of his head that sends his mane of curls swaying.

“Hey,” Jake points a lazy finger at him, “you chose me as your partner.”

“Only because the other two are even worse, somehow.”

He sounds baffled by it, and you suppose that makes sense. Normally, the brothers Kiszka float through life with seemingly endless layers of talent. It’s more than fun for the both of you — strangers to such endless grace — to witness their struggle.

Danny hurries to your side, so that you might enjoy the moment together, falling into you as you both dissolve into a fit of half-drunken laughter when Jake flawlessly (and accidentally) sinks the 8 ball.

“Tired of this, is all.” He shrugs, lying his ass off. “We never do anything real. Let’s do something real.”

“I’m real,” You taunt jokingly after a swig of the whiskey he’s left you in charge of, “you could do me.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He scolds half-heartedly, with a wavering point your way.

“I love it when you talk ‘shitty british accent to’ me, jakey.” You wink with another pull on his glass, draining it to the dredges.

Daniel tries an accent of his own on for size, mimicking his band mate. “Name’s Jacob, love.” He reaches forward to kiss your hand, and you allow it with a giggle and a blush Jake pretends not to see. “I’m terrible at pool…and that’s not the only stick I don’t know how to wield.”

The brothers erupt into laughter as you roll your eyes affectionately.

“Laugh it up, pricks.” Jake sounds unbothered in the sexiest way…it takes a bulldozer to get under his skin.

“Aw, that’s alright, you gorgeous thing, you,” Josh allows his stare to fall dark upon you after a conspiratorial wink. “If my perpetually stupid twin wants to waste opportunities, I’ll allow it and take care of you myself.”

“Sounds perfect, josh…” you lend a breathy tone to your words. “Upstairs in your room or right here on the pool table?”

He pretends to think it over, “I’d say table, but look at all the balls left on the felt. That doesn’t exactly scream comfort. If only Jake could actually sink one or two.”

“Yeah,” you nod with a solemn sigh, “such a shame. Upstairs then.”

“Me?” Jake sloshes more whiskey into his glass and slides it away from you while miming a kiss so you’ll know he realizes this is all in good fun. “You didn’t land a single fuckin’ ball, Josh. Why do you even have this?” He raps his knuckles quickly against the shiny wood framing the table.

“I happen to enjoy telling people I have a billiard room.” Josh smooths his shirt flippantly. “It makes me sound refined.”

“Yeah,” Sammy speaks up from the bar where he is chaotically preparing himself a refill. “Break out the brandy and Tchaikovsky, already. I’m not feeling cultured enough.”

“It makes you sound stupid, because this isn’t even a billiard table.” Jake points out. “Totally different game.”

In reply, Josh sends a square of chalk sailing through the air directly at his head. His twin ducks at the last minute, avoiding impact. “You’re just mad because your girl wants me to take her upstairs.”

“Is that true, kitty cat?” His stare lands on you with mischief glittering there. “You wanna go upstairs with the sun, or stay down here in the darkness where you like it best?”

He saunters forward and pulls you in close, lips soft against your pulse point…but for a split second, you can’t help the way your line of sight lingers, locked with Josh’s.

Jake’s knee slides between your thighs, just high enough to be a little inappropriate. He’s claiming you. Reminding the room to whom you belong, though it isn’t necessary…the whole world can see you’re his.

It’s all right there in the way you look at him. In the way you move with him like a devoted magnet. In the way your body comes alive with electric love when he walks into a room.

Yes, you’re his. Implicitly. But sometimes…..

Shoving the thought away, you push him aside as well, with an embarrassed swat. “Quit it.”

“See?” Josh teases, never one to shy away from giving his brother hell. “She’s ready for the superior twin. Aren’t you, pretty?”

He sends another wink flying in your direction. “And who could blame her? She’s seen me in a jumpsuit or two.”

“Here we fucking go.” Sam groans loudly. “If you’re going to start in on a big dick monologue, I’m calling an Uber.”

“I’ll split it with you.” Danny concurs.

“Ah, fuck off,” Josh waves a hand in the air wildly, dismissing them both “jealous bastards.”

He moves to grab his drink, drifting through the room with that careless elegance that follows him around like a shadow, and you find yourself unable to look away the way you sometimes fall victim to when he’s owning one stage or another.

At times, Josh is like a song you can’t get out of your head. You don’t want to sing it, you don’t want to listen, but there it is all the same…dominating your attention.

You shake it off, but when your eyes reluctantly abandon him, you find Jake’s gaze, narrowed and knowing, tracking and all seeing. It burns into you, lighting a tortuous flame of shame, and something else, within you.

It’s an unsteady feeling. Unsure. Mostly because you can feel emotion radiating off of him like wandering hands reaching out to stroke over your skin. He’s live-wire-alert, thrumming with galvanic energy, but he isn’t angry. Far from it.

It’s analytical, this look he has fixed upon you. It’s hot, there’s no questioning that…but it also boasts a peculiarity. He’s honed in on something you’ve tried very hard to keep hidden, and he doesn’t necessarily hate it.

Brushing away what can only be labeled as intrusive thoughts - he can’t have seen through you that easily - you watch as Dan and Sam begin a game of darts, squabbling over who should throw first.

The night drifts by languidly, becoming a little fuzzier and more dream-like with each trip to the bar to top up.

Jake has disappeared, but that’s nothing new. He tends to wander when inebriated. Likes the quiet. You’ll catch up with him sooner or later. Or perhaps you’ll find him curled up in the guest room that has been unceremoniously reserved for the two of you each time Josh hosts.

You’ve fought it as long as you can, ignoring the nagging ache in your bladder, unwilling to readily ‘break the seal’ that will render you popping off to the bathroom every ten minutes.

Josh is contemplating a song that has been trekking about in his mind, remaining hidden away despite begging to be written.

You nod sympathetically, offering up a squeeze of his hand in solidarity. “Hold that thought,” you smile, tripping on your slurred words so mildly no one but yourself would ever notice. “Off to the ladies room.”

“The ladies room?” He laughs, trotting out that barking belly laugh that is nothing short of infectious. “You make my home sound like an Applebees.”

“Applebees?” You hear Sam pipe up as you ascend the basement stairs “Are you ordering? ‘Cause they’ve got that queso I like.”

Danny’s reply comes muffled as you slip onto the main floor. “Applebees is fuckin’ disgusting, and anyway…”

Hands washed, and a smudge of eyeliner wiped away, you emerge from the bathroom, ready to rejoin the party when a hand slithers out in the dark, quick as a striking snake, to pull you into the spare bedroom.

“Hello, kitty cat.” Jake’s voice comes smoothly in the dark.

“Jake,” you’re working hard to quiet your hammering heart as your eyes fight to adjust in the darkness. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’d tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You can nearly hear the smirk in his tone.

“Have you been hiding up here all this time?” You ask, as he holds tight to your hands, barring you from actually being able to touch him.

“Yes. Kept myself busy by going through my brother’s things.” He whispers, licking a soft trail along the side of your pinky. “Did you know he owns a vibrator? Wonder what he uses that for?”

“Probably the same thing you use mine for.” You breathe back in the pitch black of the room, picturing the way he sometimes holds it against his cock for you when you feel like watching. “Stop teasing your poor twin. And you shouldn’t go through other people’s things, Jacob. Naughty.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t I?” His lips skate across your own as he leans in. “I wouldn’t have found this if I hadn’t.”

He has timed his moment perfectly, and as the light flips on, the ability to form truly coherent thoughts becomes unattainable.

A completely self-assured expression warms his features as you stare on with parted lips and softly panting breaths.

Josh’s jumpsuit, stark white and swimming with mermaids and winking glitter, hugs his body like a second skin. It renders the tan of his complexion even more pronounced, leaving him standing before you like a sun-kissed god.

His hair is pulled back in a loose, low slung bun. It’s lazy and effortless. Obviously not executed before a mirror, and that makes it all the more right.

“Fuck, I…” you falter, unable to find the words for your thoughts. Probably for the best, lest you come off as some fucked out ninny in a poorly scripted porno.

“Will this do?” He bites down on his lip, hiding away a flash of insecurity that you spot anyway. It’s gone as fast as it came. Replaced quickly by that cocky smirk that makes your cunt ache for his touch. “Or should I go and gather my brother?”

“Jake…”

Your eyes are fixed on his cock, half-hard and deliciously on display behind the suit. So very much like his twin.

“What?” He yanks you in close and ghosts his mouth up along your pounding jugular until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “I see the way you watch him sometimes. You look so pretty when you stare. Do you want to fuck him? Because you can. If you want him that badly, that is. You can have him.“

A moan in the negative is all you can hope for in the moment.

“No?” He’s got you up against the door now, grinding his fully hard cock against your clit, inching his fingertips up along the outsides of your thighs, higher and higher under your skirt. “You’ll settle for me, dressed up in the emperor’s clothes?”

“You’re the fucking emperor.” You correct, burying your hands in his hair, further loosening his haphazard bun. “I just like to think about it now and then.”

Oh, where did that little bit of honesty come from? Some things are better left unsaid.

“You like to think about fucking my brothers?” He couldn’t be further from angry if he tried. You can hear it. Territorial, perhaps…but that will do perfectly.

“Never said brothers,” you gasp, clinging to his bare shoulders for dear life when his fingers curl into the sides of your panties. “Just Josh.”

“Why?” He’s beginning to shine with sweat and need.

“I like his mouth…oh, fuck…” you whine when he slips your underwear down, mid-thigh. “It’s pretty. And the way he moves his tongue sometimes…”

“Alright, shut up…” he lands a harsh crack of a smack against your swollen clit. “That’s enough.”

“Jealous?” You smile, taunting him just a little before leaning in to dip your tongue into his warm mouth. He tastes of liquor, and cinnamon, and Jake.

“Maybe.” He smiles into your kiss.

“You’ve given me permission to fuck him, but you can’t handle listening to me talk about it?” You’re taunting him mercilessly, but he loves it and you both know it.

“Maybe you’re just needy.” He teases right back, easing two fingers snug into your warmth without warning. “Yeah? Maybe you’re just feeling slutty because you need to cum. Is that it, baby? Do I need to pet my pretty kitty cat a little?”

“Please…” you’re begging, and much too loudly given that there’s an audience one floor below, but you can’t find a fuck to give.

“Mouth or cock?” He curls into you, pressing perfectly inside your silken walls as you arch away from the door.

“Mouth.” You whimper, sounding as pathetic as you feel in your desperation.

It’s the correct answer. Had you said cock, he’d have worked himself into a frenzy thinking about the way you spoke of Josh’s mouth but didn’t ask for his.

He drops to his knees, without a word, eyes on yours until he disappears beneath your skirt, beautiful features now cloaked and hidden away.

You blush under the scrutiny of no one in the empty room when you hear him draw in a deep, lingering, lungful of you with his mouth on your dampened thighs.

“Pink and pretty,” his voice rasps from between your legs. “She’s just a little messy right now. Don’t worry, kitty cat…I’m gonna kiss her all better.”

A feral sound chokes out of you as you yank his face in close, burying him in your cunt.

At first, he’s louder than you are. Murmuring hungry little grunts and moans against your slick skin…sucking at you ravenously until the room is stifled up, full and hot, with the wet sounds of your cunt and his mouth.

Soon, though, you grow hotter, and lose yourself little by little, fucking against his face as he loves on your clit obscenely. Lapping at it, nibbling delicately, drawing it into his kiss tenderly as his fingers delve deeper inside.

He fucks you slowly, nudging you along as you whine and beg above him.

“Shh…” he warns around your pulsing bundle of nerves. “Or do you want him to hear you?”

“Only you.” You promise, rocking your hips frantically to meet him. “It’s all for you. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop.” He swears, licking away at you like the sweetest lollipop is playing over his tongue.

It’s intrusive and definitely not called upon, but when the picture begins to tumble about in your mind on loop— both of them nestled between your legs at once with those gorgeous mouths of theirs, you’re cumming hard and fast…pouring over his fingers, likely ruining the front of a jumpsuit neither of you can claim ownership of.

Its blissful and for a moment, your soul is robbed from it’s earthly confines, spending a suspended breath ruminating with the universe.

“God damn…” Jake’s winded response scratches out of him as he peeks out from under your skirt, eager to get a look at your flushed face.

He’s covered in you. Glistening and catching the light in your release. “You came everywhere.”

His observation is beyond pleased, but when your eyes slide away, he presses you for answers while still on his knees. “What? Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” You smile, stroking a bead of sweat away from his temple.

“Liar.” He grins lazily, licking the taste of you off his plush lips. “Tell me what got you off so hard.”

It takes a massive amount of charm on his end, but eventually, you admit that you’d been thinking about them both.

The look in his eyes is nothing short of devious when he goes to speak, only to be quieted by a soft knock on the door.

Your eyes meet in panicked anticipation when a familiar voice breeches the wooden barrier. “It isn’t nice to talk about someone behind their back, you know?”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @agirlwithmanytastes @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @mckenna4 @tripthelight-fanfic @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van smut #fanfic #greta van fic #gvf fic #josh kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiskza #jake gvf #gvf jake

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greeniery · 1 month ago

Text

cartwheels across your dash and i put on a pair of sunglasses midair and my shoes catch on fire from the sheer velocity and force of my awesomeness but the flames extinguish as i stick the landing flawlessly and an Agent Orange song starts playing as i walk away doin a peace sign

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alexagirlie · 4 months ago

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It's Duncan Idaho and I can be a slut if I want to be

A/N: I was still learning how to write when I wrote this series, please ignore the horrible grammar.

Song featured in the story is "Hail to the King" by Avenged Sevenfold

(Series Masterlist)

Header and art by me, divider by @cafekitsune

Fandom: Dune

Pairing: Groupie Paul / Musician Duncan

Rating: E

Words: 5,3k

Summary: Paul had spent many hours daydreaming about those muscles, what they would feel like under his hands and mouth. Hours spent touching himself to shirtless photoshoots and imagining all the things he wanted to do to Duncan. To have Duncan do to him.

TWs: band au. Tattoo'd paul. Tattoo'd duncan. M/M sex. Rimming. Anal fingering. Anal sex. Oral sex. Age Difference. Size Difference. Strength kink.

Taglist: @softhecreator @almostg @gatoenlaciudad

The beat of the bass pulsed so deep and so loud that it felt like a heartbeat in Paul's chest. Lights flashed and changed, red, blue, purple, yellow. Bodies pressed against his back, jostling him into the barrier at his front. Even so Paul couldn't contain the excitement that had built in his bones, built in his blood at finally being able to see one of his favourite bands live in concert.

He had been a fan of the Blades of Gintaz since he first heard them on the radio 5 years ago when he was 16. He had immediately ran out and bought all their albums and spent the following 6 months listening to nothing else. (He also developed a teeny tiny crush on their lead guitarist.)

The first song of their set finished and the opening chords of his favourite song rang out. Paul joined in the cheer that sounded through the crowd, hands in the air and closed his eyes to really feel the rhythm in his bones.

Paul let the lyrics flow through him, mouthing along with the words.

"Watch your tongue or have it cut from your head. Save your life by keeping whispers unsaid. Children roam the streets now orphans of war. Bodies hangin' in the streets to adore"

Something about this song just spoke to Paul, he could never explain it to people. The combination of the lyrics and the layers of instrumental work struck a chord in him.

"Royal flames will carve a path in chaos.

Bringing daylight to the night (night).

Death is riding into town with armor.

They've come to take all your rights."

"Hail to the King

Hail to the one

Kneel to the crown

Stand in the sun

Hail to the King

(Hail, hail, hail)

(The King)"

Following the chorus Paul opens his eyes just in time for all the spotlights to land on the lead guitarist, Duncan Idaho, as he rips into his solo. Paul was close enough he could see the sweat sliding down Duncan's neck, already sticking his shirt to his sculpted pecs and abs. His thick nimble fingers flew across the strings, playing flawlessly.

Paul had spent many hours daydreaming about those muscles, what they would feel like under his hands and mouth. Hours spent touching himself to shirtless photoshoots and imagining all the things he wanted to do to Duncan. To have Duncan do to him.

The first time Paul had fingered himself it was imagining those thick ring covered fingers in place of his own. It was the most intense orgasm of his teenage life. He had quickly improved upon it, getting very good at finding his prostate.

The first time he had used a toy was after a solo photoshoot Duncan had done where he was shirtless and wet in most of the photos. Paul had slid a dildo into his ass and used it to fuck himself to an orgasm so strong his release hit his chin. All without putting a single hand on his cock. (Okay so it may be more than just a crush, but Paul wasn't about to tell anyone that.)

Paul had saved for months to afford the tickets to see Blades of Gintaz and had managed to score himself a VIP pass. The passes gave the carrier early access to the venue so Paul was able to stake out a good spot right on the rails and a meet and greet with the band after the show ended. He had even taken a moment to snap a selfie in front of the stage during sound check. He couldn't wait to post it and about the concert after the show closed.

Paul gets lost in the music, gets lost in the lights and the feeling in his chest that threatens to explode. He closes his eyes, tilts his head back with a wide carefree grin on his face and just moves. It was euphoric.

Finally, with chants of encore encore encore the band plays their last song of the night. An epic ballad which was the perfect choice to wind the crowd down. At one point Duncan was stationed right at the front of the stage, head bent and fingers flying over the strings. He looks up through his hair and Paul could have sworn his gaze locked onto Paul's. But that would be a crazy fan level of delusion and Paul refused to be that brand of fan boy. (He wasn't crazy, Duncan had noticed the beautiful Twink in the front row and couldn't help making brief eye contact.)

The song ends and the show comes to a close. The front woman thanks the crowd and the venue and the band makes their way off stage. Paul makes his way to the entrance of the VIP area, flashes his pass and is let into the meet and greet area. About a dozen other people filter in behind him. They had been allowed to leave any bags in the room prior to the show starting so Paul headed to where he left his and pulled out two magazines.

One magazine had a group shot of the band on the front cover and was a safe bet to have them all sign. The second was the magazine which contained his favourite photoshoot of Duncan and had fueled many of his late night fantasies. He hoped he could have Duncan sign this one too.

Paul was almost vibrating with a mix of excitement and nerves as the members of the band began filtering into the room. It was an informal meet and greet, pass holders were encouraged to mingle freely and the band members were to make their rounds.

Paul gets autographs from the lead singer, bassit, second guitarist and the drummer all before Duncan makes his appearance. Duncan appeared to be freshly showered, hair damp and hanging loose around his neck and broad shoulders. He was dressed in a pair of tight baby pink pants, a white long sleeve Henley with the sleeves pushed up showing his forearms and his shark teeth tattoo. He had a thin pink scarf hanging around his neck, just a few shades darker than his pants.

Paul felt his jeans tighten as he registered what Duncan was wearing and he wanted to drop to his knees right then and there and beg for Duncan cock down his throat. He had to turn away and give himself a moment to calm down, taking deep breaths and thinking about anything other than blowing the man of his wet dreams. He runs a hand through his messy curls then tries to sublely adjust his hard cock so it wasn't obviously straining the front of his jeans. (He failed.)

Duncan couldn't get the face of the dark haired twink out of his head after the show closed. He went so far as to wrap a hand around himself in the shower, needing an outlet after the energy of the show and pictured those red lips wrapped around his cock. Got him off in record time.

He hurried to get dried off and dressed and rushed off to the area they had set up for the meet and greet. He shouldn't keep the fans waiting, they had paid good money to meet everyone.

Entering the room he could feel eyes on him, heavy as a caress down his body. Looking around the room he sees that same twink, obviously checking him out before quickly spinning around to put his back to the door and messing with his clothes and hair.

Duncan took the opportunity to give the guy a good once over, now able to see more than just his face from the concert floor. He was wearing skin tight white jeans tucked into black ankle boots and an oversized black knit sweater finished off the look. His hair was a wild mess of curls which he was only making messier by running his fingers through it.

His ass looked amazing and Duncan could only imagine what it would look like spread around his cock. He had a feeling it would be a spectacular view. He saw the twink adjust himself and grinned. He had a feeling if he played his cards right that he was going to have company in his hotel room tonight.

He needed to make his rounds with the other VIP pass holders first then he would make his move.

Paul turned back to face the room after attempting to make himself presentable to see Duncan making his rounds through the other VIP guests. He seems to be taking several minutes with each person, making sure to have a real conversation with them. It was something that Paul had always admired about Duncan, he seemed to genuinely appreciate his fans.

Paul kills time by helping himself to a complimentary soda and flipping through one of his magazines. He feels the very air shift and looks up and comes face to chest with the pec muscles that wet dreams were made of. He looked up further until he could meet Duncan's beautiful deep brown eyes.

They exchange the standard pleasantries, Paul introducing himself, Duncan asking what he thought of the night's set list. Paul can't help but flirt a little, letting Duncan know how much he enjoys his playing. Complimenting his fashion choices, not all guys can pull off baby pink after all. His eyes kept catching on Duncan's mouth as he was talking or on the light dusting of chest hair Paul can see peeking out the unbuttoned top of his Henley.

Eventually one of venues staff reminds everyone that their time is coming to an end and to finish up. Paul finally hands over the two magazines for Duncan to sign. Duncan is quick with the first magazine but takes special care with the one containing his solo spread. He has it open to a page in the middle and is writing a message Paul cannot see before closing it and handing it back.

"It was nice meeting you Paul"

"It was nice meeting you too"

They said goodnight and Duncan left with the rest of his band mates while the VIP guests were ushered out. Paul gathers up the rest of his belongings, feeling like he is on cloud nine. He had just met Duncan Idaho and it was amazing and mind blowing. He leaves the concert hall and steps out into the warm summer night when he pauses to look over what was written on his magazines. The group cover had the standard, nice to meet you message and signature, the other magazine however had the most peculiar message on it.

Duncan had signed it then right below that it read; 'Turn to page 52'

Paul flipped to the page in question, which was right in the middle of Duncan's photoshoot, to see another message scrawled across what was coincidentally his favourite image. Duncan was sitting on the beach, leaning back while the surf rushed up over his legs and groins. His shorts were clinging to him like a second skin and left little to the imagination. His chest was bare and gleamed in the sun, hair loose and wild around his face and shoulders. His brown eyes staring directly into the camera.

Paul read the message, couldn't believe what was written so had to read it again. Then a third time before it really sank in.

'Your the most beautiful thing I have seen in a long time. I would love to see more of you. Come to room 2022 at Hotel Arrakeen. I'll be waiting'.

Paul still couldn't quite believe it, he was being propositioned by Duncan Idaho, by the guy that sparked his bisexual panic and that he jerks off to at least twice a week. It was unreal, there was no way it was actually happening. (It was).

Paul debated with himself, should he go to the hotel, or should he just go home. Chock it up to a dream fueled by the joint he smoked before the show and adrenaline. Does he really want to be that fan, that sleeps with a band member or leave. (Guess which one he picks)

A fifteen minute walk later and Paul finds himself in the lobby of Hotel Arrakeen, hurrying past the luckily empty reception desk and hoping no one catches him. He wasn't sure what he would tell anyone if he was seen sneaking in. He gets into the elevator and presses the button for the 20th floor. As the elevator starts to move Paul is still debating with himself. He couldn't help but wonder to himself if he wasn't being a bit of a whore? It WAS Duncan Idaho, anyone else who was in his place would do the same wouldn't they? With that body, those eyes and the rumor that he was an absolute animal in bed you would be dumb to miss out on the chance. Paul hoped Duncan was a real beast in bed.

Paul's over eager dick ended up deciding for him, it was Duncan fucking Idaho, whom he has spent a quarter of his life jerking off too. He can be a giant slut if he goddamn wants to be. He will never get another opportunity like this.

Decision made Paul exits the elevator and turns down the hallway to room 2022. He knocks on the door, rocking on his heels, trying not to let the butterflies in his stomach get in the way of his horny determination. He can hear soft footsteps coming from within the room and then the door swings open revealing Duncan in all his glory. Duncan who had stripped off his Henley and is now in a low cut white tank top, glorious muscular arms and chest full on display.

Paul freezes for a minute, eyes running down Duncan's form, chest down to bare toes then back up to meet his gaze. He can't help but grin a little bit, licking his lips nervously.

Luckily Duncan is not so intimidated, he grabs a fist full of Paul's sweater and pulls him bodily into the room, kicking the door closed behind them.

Paul finds himself pressed firmly against the inside of the hotel door. His head bracketed between strong muscled biceps and forearms with Duncan a warm weight against his front. Paul tips his head back against the door with a thunk and meets Duncan gaze with heavy lidded green eyes. His heart was pounding.

Duncan's voice was a low rumble "This okay?" One of his hands moved from the door to rest on the curve of Paul's neck, his thumb pressing firmly against the hinge of his jaw.

Paul felt his cock harden to the point of painfulness in his jeans at the firm touch, at the possessiveness of the hold and at the fact that Duncan was asking for verbal consent. That even though Paul had shown up to his room he did not take it to mean that Paul wanted his touch.

Paul reached out and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Duncan pants, "Yes Please," he answered, his desire obvious in his voice. He was so hard and his underwear was soaked from the precome leaking from his cock.

He pulled Duncan the last step needed to completely close the distance between their bodies. Pressing them together from chest to groin. Paul moaned at the feeling of Duncan erection pressing up against his own, it felt huge and he couldn't wait to get his mouth on it.

Duncan closes the distance between their mouths and lays a few slow closed mouthed kisses to Paul's lips. His beard scratches pleasantly against Paul's face. His stomach jumps and tightens as Duncan runs his tongue across his bottom lip, nipping at one of his snakebites. The hand on Paul's jaw slides around and cups the back of his neck, angling his head just so. He opens his mouth and the kiss deepens. Tongues sliding together and teeth nipping and panting gasping breaths.

Paul feels Duncan's thigh press up between his legs, making Paul's hips grind down helplessly. Duncan pulled on the hair under his fingers and it all felt so good. Paul couldn't help letting out several moans and high pitched whines.

Duncan breaks away from Paul long enough to pull his tank off, muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling. Paul helped by pushing the material up his stomach and chest. He then steps back into Paul's space to help Paul pull his sweater up over his head, his shirt following shortly after. His hair tousled into wild curls around his face.

Duncan grabs Paul around the waist and they stumble over to the bed, Paul pushing Duncan down to sit on the edge before dropping to his knees between Duncans spread legs and working on his belt. He throws it to the floor beside him then pops the button. He bites lip and pulls the zipper down. Duncan's hard cock springs up against his stomach, Paul's mouth watering as he takes in the bead of precome already forming at the tip and the gleam of metal. Metal barbells, not only is Duncan hung he has his fucking cock pierced.

"Fuck your cock is even better then I imagined" The words slip out of Paul's mouth before he can think better of it. He flushes a little when Duncan lets out a deep rumbling chuckle.

Duncan leaned back on his palms and looked down at Paul in amusement. "Spent much time thinking about my dick have we?" He asks Paul, seeming to be genuinely interested in the answer.

"I'm here aren't I? I think it's implied I've thought about what your dick looks like" was Paul's cheeky response.

Despite how eager he was Paul starts off slowly. He takes Duncan's cock in hand, giving it a single stroke and an almost chaste kiss to the tip drawing a groan out of Duncan's throat. That single kiss turns into a series of open mouthed kisses that Paul lays wetly down the length of Duncan's cock. When he gets to the base he sucks Duncan's balls into his mouth, one after the other, drawing another loud groan out of the man in front of him. The sound made Paul throb in his jeans.

Paul wants to pull more noises out of Duncan so he spends several minutes alternating between each sac before he licks a wet stripe up the underside of Duncan cock. When he gets to the top he wraps his lips around the tip and gives it a lazy suckle. Paul lets out a moan of his own at the taste as a spurt of precome pools on his tongue.

Duncan gets both hands in Paul's wild mess of hair trying not to pull on his curls, just holding, grounding himself. Paul releases Duncan cock with a pop and looks up at him through his lashes, licking his lips.

"You can pull my hair if you want" He suggests to the bigger man "It gets me hot."

Duncan grinned down at the younger man "Oh is that so, like this then?" Duncan tightened his fingers in the curls, pulling hard enough to make Paul's scalp sting and pull a pained gasp out of his mouth.

Paul nods eagerly, relishing in the pull as he does so, then gets his mouth back around Duncan cock. This time sinking down, down until it hits the back of his throat and he gags a little. He takes a slow breath through his nose, relaxing his throat and trying to sink further down, desperately wanting to swallow the whole thing. He can't quite manage but he does his best.

A few minutes go by like this, with the wet sounds of Paul's mouth as it glides over Duncan's cock. One of Paul's hands jacking the parts his mouth cannot reach, the other hand sliding down and palming firmly at Duncan's balls. Paul figures Duncan must be enjoying himself based on the sounds and words escaping his mouth.

"That's good, take it all down."

"Your mouth feels so good baby."

Duncan hips start to move, making shallow aborted thrusts. Paul takes note and pulls back so just the tip of Duncan cock is still in his mouth. He freezes there, very gently sucking and looks up at Duncan through the fringe of his hair, waiting to see if Duncan will take the bait. He places his hands on his thighs, fingers clenched in the material.

Duncan growls out a low fuck and twists hard on the handful he has of Paul's hair before using it as a handle to pull Paul's mouth down to meet his slow upward thrust. "Want me to fuck your mouth baby?"

He waits for Paul's answering nod and moan then starts to thrust, slow and shallow. As Paul relaxes into the rhythm he soon starts to pick up speed and fuck deeper into Paul's throat. Paul's eyes are wet and he is moaning continuously. One of his hands moved from his thighs to press firmly against his hard cock through his jeans. He doesn't even care about the bite of metal as he presses down, just needing to relieve the pressure.

Duncan pulled Paul off his cock, a line of precome and saliva connecting it to Paul's panting mouth. Hands still in his hair he pulls Paul up and claims his mouth in a deep devouring kiss. He uses his hold in black curls to bring them both to their feet then let's go to get his hands under Paul's thighs, lifting him up off the ground. Paul throws his arms around Duncan neck. Wraps his legs around Duncan's waist, completely overwhelmed by how strong Duncan is.

Without breaking the kiss Duncan turns around and crawls onto the bed, Paul still cradled in his arms. He tips them onto the bed and they spend several more minutes kissing heavily. Hips grinding and hands wandering over flesh. Paul can feel the beard burn forming down his neck and chest. Finally Duncan pulls back, staring down at Paul.

"Take off your pants" comes the gruff command, striking just the right authoritative tone to make Paul pliant and obedient. He was quick to obey, hands scrambling at his button and zipper, getting his pants undone and pushed down over his hips. Duncan was there helping him peel them down and off his long legs, dropping his jeans on the floor. He wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"That's a good boy"

Paul was positive that he had never been so turned on in his life. His cock was an angry red and it was drooling a continuous stream of precome onto his stomach. It gave a twitch at the praise and his face flushed. He watched appreciatively as Duncan made quick work of his own pants and briefs, dropped them to the floor. He gave himself a few strokes and Paul's brain shorts out at the visual.

Duncan crawls back up the bed and between Paul's sprawled legs, his hard cock hanging huge and purple at the tip. His piercing glistening in the low light with Paul's saliva. Duncan runs his hands up the inside of Paul thighs, thumbs digging in wonderfully, spreading them wider and slotting himself better in between.

"What do you want Paul?"

Paul pulled his eyes away from their focus on Duncan's massive cock and met his gaze. "I want your cock inside me, I want you to fuck me so hard I limp for a week"

Duncan grinned at Paul wolfishly "I can do that pretty boy, I can do that". Duncan gets his hands under Paul's knees and pushes them up. When he met no resistance he kept pushing until Paul's knees hit his chest. Leaving Paul's hole spread and exposed to the warm air of the room. Paul can feel Duncan's gaze on him, hungry and appreciative.

"Hold them open for me, that's a good boy"

Paul's flush is spreading down his neck and chest but he hooks his knees over his elbows and holds himself open for Duncan. Who has leaned over the side of the bed and is rifling around in the side table drawer. After a minute he pulls out a tube of lube and a condom. He drops both on the bed before leaning over Paul and running his tongue along his taint causing Paul to moan and squirm. Rimming was one of Paul's favourite activities to have done to his ass.

Duncan spent several minutes eating Paul out before he reached out blindly, grabbing for the tube of lube. Popping the cap he liberally coats his fingers in the slick substance before sliding the first one in beside his tongue. It sinks into the first knuckle easily, Paul having been opened up quite nicely on Duncan's tongue.

Duncan quickly works up to three fingers and Paul is a writhing mess. His cock and stomach are soaking with precome and he is rocking back against Duncan's fingers as much as his position allows. Duncan pulls away briefly, manhandling Paul up over his lap. Lining his fingers back up with Paul's hole he pushes all 3 back in, using his other hand to encourage Paul to rock his hips.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Paul groaned out as he chases the feeling of Duncan's fingers inside of him. They were pressing against his prostate with each thrust and twist of his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine and making his toes curl. His orgasm was approaching at a rapid pace.

"Could you go again?" Duncan kept up the quick pace of his fingers but angled them to miss Paul's prostate, to draw out the moment and not let Paul cum.

It took Paul a minute as his mind was fuzzy with pleasure and stalled orgasm. "What?" The word was almost a whine.

"If I let you get off now, could you cum again while I was fucking you?"

"Yes, yes please! Let me cum, please" Paul begged, hips moving, riding Duncan fingers trying to get them deeper inside him, back to where he wanted them most "Please!"

The last please was almost a wail and Duncan listened, adjusting the angle of his fingers inside of Paul. Making sure to nail his prostate each time, drawing the most beautiful sounds out of Paul. He was so close, practically bouncing to meet Duncan's fingers, his hole clenching like a vice.

"Good, I want you to cum, right now"

And Paul did, he tossed his head back, curls flying, and his whole body tensed up as he came so hard he splattered up to his chin with his release. He whined at the over stimulation as Duncan was still moving his fingers slowly, milking his orgasm for as long as possible.

"Good Boy"

Duncan tipped Paul over onto his back then leaned over Paul and licked a line of his release up off his stomach. He licked his lips and grinned up at Paul. "You taste good".

Duncan was relentless, barely letting Paul catch his breath before helping him turn over on his knees and had him grip the bars of the head board. He takes a minute to slip the condom on and lube up before his hands grip Paul's hips, adjusting him so his ass is extended. Duncan laid a line of kisses down his spine, paying special attention to the lines of the tattoo along his spine. Thumbs digging into the skin just below where Paul had his lower back pierced.

Chest pressed to back Duncan lines his cock up with Paul's slick opening. Letting just the tip catch on his rim before withdrawing, the metal barbell surprising cold against his skin. Paul moans desperately, push back against Duncan cock, trying to get him to stop teasing him.

Finally Duncan sank the first couple of inches into Paul and it was everything Paul had fantasized about. Duncan's cock was hot and hard and filled him just right. It burned as he slowly sunk another few inches in and Paul's eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hands were gripping Paul's hips like a vice and Paul hoped he would come away from this night with a few finger shaped bruises.

Duncan bottoms out inside Paul and pauses, breath coming heavy against the back of Paul's neck. He pulls his cock out a few inches before slowing pushing back in, letting Paul adjust and stretch around his girth. The piercing an odd pleasurable sensation sliding against Paul's walls.

As Paul relaxes and starts to push back against each thrust Duncan picks up speed. Soon he is setting a punishing pace, hard and deliberate against Paul's prostate. His grip on Paul's hips pulling him back to meet each thrust. Soon he had Paul begging again, the pleasure being unrelenting and his orgasm just out of reach. All the needed was a touch to out him over.

Duncan slid one hand around to grab Paul's renewed erection stroking him hard and fast. He bites down on Paul's right shoulder and Paul is coming again, screaming his release. Come staining the headboard and the bed below him.

Duncan slows the movement of his hips to a stop, "Think you can do one more?" He asks in Paul's ear. Hand petting over Paul's stomach, rubbing his spend into his skin. He kisses the mark left by his teeth while Paul catches his breath, muscles unclenching one by one.

Paul nods weakly and lets himself be manhandled by Duncan again. They end up with Duncan laying back and Paul over his lap, sinking down on his cock. Paul braces himself on Duncan's knees and lets himself be guided into a slow grind. He is whining high in his throat from the over sensitivity. He probably needed a few more minutes but he wanted desperately to be good for Duncan.

Paul wants to be praised and to be called a good boy again in Duncan's deep voice. As the sensitivity goes away and he gets his wind back Paul begins riding Duncan in earnest. Duncan has his head thrown back, his hair a wild mess across the pillows, eyes closed in concentration. He is chasing his own orgasm now and Paul is just along for the ride. A hole for him to use.

Paul is so focused on getting Duncan to that point that his third orgasm takes him by surprise. Surging up from nowhere and making him seize up, losing his balance and tipping face first into Duncan's chest, completely overwhelmed. He has nothing left in him so only a few drops of cum dribble out and drip onto Duncan's stomach.

His body locks up around Duncan and it takes two, three more thrusts of Duncan's hips before he is emptying himself into Paul, filling the condom. His groan is loud and satisfied. They lay there for several minutes, panting while Paul tried to regain feeling in his limbs.

"That…. was.. something" He pants out, breathing hard against Duncan's neck. He can feel the chuckle in Duncan's chest, rumbling under his check.

"That is was my boy" Duncan agrees, rubbing his hands up and down Paul's back "that it was."

Once they have cooled down and caught their breath Duncan dumps Paul gently onto the bed and gets up to wander into the bathroom. Paul lays there, limbs all askew and watched him, appreciating the play of muscles along his back and ass. Duncan comes back, condom tossed and a wet cloth in hand which he hands over to Paul so he can make an attempt at wiping himself down. He knows he will need a hot shower to get all the cum off his body.

Duncan pulls the corner of the bed spread down and slides in. "Stay?" He asked Paul, holding an arm open in invitation.

Paul smiles, drops the dirty clothes on the floor and wiggles his way under the covers, all loosed limbed from the thorough fucking he had been given. He curls up under Duncan's arm and rests his cheek against his chest. Duncan reaches over and turns the lamp off. Snuggling down they drift off to sleep.

Guess the rumours were true, Duncan really was an animal in bed.

(In the morning they go again in the shower. Duncan brings Paul to his first orgasm of the day with just his mouth, eating him out hungrily. His second orgasm was while Duncan was buried balls deep, fucking him against the shower wall. Paul's brain shorts out every time he thinks about how strong Duncan is. After they have dried off and clothes are back on they exchanged numbers and Duncan calls Paul for booty calls whenever he is in the city. His band mates tease him relentlessly about the mystery fan he pulled. They could hear them through the hotel walls. Then boys catch feelings and secretly start dating for real, then they come out and get married and it's a huge things cause Paul is half Duncan's age but they don't give a fuck.)

Bonus art for anyone interested can be found on AO3

#kirstin's chronicles #dune #dune fanfiction #modern au #atreidaho #paul x duncan #duncan x paul #paul atreides #duncan idaho #m/m

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morningstargirl666 · 11 months ago

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY

How's everyone's holidays going? Here's an excerpt from my new edit of tbbw's chapter 5:

“How’s the makeover going? Finn clawed your eyes out yet?” she called out to Elijah in greeting, striding into the room with her manicurist in tow.

The brothers all turned at their sisters voice, all in different states of dress - Finn had only just finished buttoning his shirt, while Kol was currently fumbling with his bow tie, Elijah quickly moving over to bat away his hands and tie the fabric for him. Finn’s gaze met Rebekah’s first.

She stopped in her tracks, pressing her lips together, clearly trying to smother a laugh as her eyes raked up and down Finn’s new appearance. “Well, you look…”

“Don’t say a word,” Finn ground out, glaring down at the dress shoes he had just been handed with particular vehemence.

Rebekah pressed her lips harder together, ducking her head down to quickly hide the smile she couldn’t smother as she moved away. “I was going to say dashing.”

Finn glared at the back of her head as she sat down on one of the sofas, turning her back on them as her manicurist dropped her kit box to the floor, starting to set up in preparation for her manicure.

Not waiting for Elijah to finish straightening his bow tie, Kol weaselled his way out of his grip and jogged over to Rebekah, coming around the back of the sofa and leaping over it, landing on the cushions beside her.

“Ah, sweet, sweet sister… Finally joining us, I see,” he began in greeting, one arm thrown over the back while the other poked her shoulder. “Where’s your seamstress?”

“I already had my deep dive into 21st century fashion weeks ago, Kol. My seamstress already knows all my measurements.” Rebekah sniffed delicately, laying her hand flat on the arm of the sofa as her manicurist knelt down in front of her, raising a file to her nails. “So I thought, wouldn’t it be fun, if I had my manicure while watching you two in crisis instead?”

She turned in Kol’s direction with a saccharine smile, ponytail flying behind her. Kol leaned away, grin dropping into a scowl.

“I was daggered in 1919, not the dark ages. From what I can tell, not much has changed for men’s formal attire.”

“And yet, your shirt has been sticking out of your zipper for the past five minutes.”

“Bollocks,” Kol hissed, hurriedly standing to his feet to tuck his shirt away and zip his pants up, struggling with the more modern mechanism, too used to simple buttons and ties. Rebekah’s smile settled into a smirk, admiring her manicurist’s work while her brother cursed under his breath.

Meanwhile, Finn, having not seen Elijah help Kol with his bow tie, was currently attempting to thread his own through the belt loops on his trousers.

“Sir!” one of the tailors cried out in alarm, “Might I ask what on earth you plan on doing with that?”

Everyone froze, including Finn, who stared at the strip of fabric in his hands that was the exact width to snugly fit between the belt loops.

“It is not a belt? To hold these breeches in place?”

“Yes,” Kol proclaimed gleefully, grin widening, “Yes, it most certainly is.”

“Ignore him,” Elijah snapped immediately, striding over to help Finn. He grabbed the black bow tie out of his hands before Finn could attempt to use it as anything else. “It is most certainly not a belt.”

Finn blinked, utterly lost. “Then what is used for?”

“It’s called a tie, brother,” Elijah explained, throwing the fabric around Finn’s neck, already beginning to weave it into a bow, the process flawlessly refined from years of muscle memory. “You tie it around the neck, like this:”

Finn pushed his chin down, craning his head trying to see the emerging bow tie decorating his neck. “Why? What purpose does that pose?”

“It keeps your shirt closed and adds a splash of colour. When they first came into fashion in the french court, slightly different back then of course, they were a sign of wealth and stature.”

Elijah finished straightening the bow, stepping back to take Finn’s appearance in. His older brother shifted uncomfortably, pulling at the fabric now secured around his neck.

“I feel like I’m about to be hanged,” he announced, not impressed.

“I dread to think how you would have fared in a corset,” Rebekah remarked dryly, watching as her manicurist filed down her nails. Turning around to face a full length mirror, Kol snickered.

Finn frowned. “Why, what is a corset?”

Elijah’s brows furrowed, stepping forward to adjust Finn’s tie again, finding some imperfection the others couldn’t see. “Unless you plan on cross-dressing for the other gender, brother, you need not know.” “Of course,” Kol called out from in front of the mirror, “if that is your desire, I’m sure Rebekah has plenty of dresses for you to adjust to your size in storage.”

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #the big bad wolf #tbbw #klaus x caroline #fanfiction #morningstar writes #the siblings are getting more screen time and I love it #also the show really didn't show enough of the siblings being baffled by modern culture #especially Finn considering he was in a box for nine hundred years #had to rectify that wrong you understand #the mikaelsons #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #finn mikaelson #kol mikaelson #klaroline wip wed

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demigoddessqueens · 2 years ago

Note

VM + Cassandra with a Assassin's Creed!S/o. Where they seem them do the leap of faith for the very first time.

Nothing says “I love you” than showing your s/o your most grandiose rite of passage

Vex’ahlia - half surprised half nervous for you on the final landing

Keyleth - wide eyed wonder as your robes billow against the wind when you soar

Cassandra - audibly gasps in amazement as you jump off a building, not realizing her heart was beating

Grog - loudly exclaiming when he sees you soar off, wants you to teach him as well

Pike - for a second, she swears you look like Sarenrae’s symbol and she’s fascinated by how you maneuver

Scanlan - the robes, the style, the aesthetic and air that surrounds you! Heart eyes galore! Please teach him!

Vax’ildan - you look otherworldly to him, like something mythic, and it feels as if he has a kinship with you (mostly the stealth)

Percy - at first he thinks it’s for show until he sees how flawlessly you carry yourself through it all to stick the landing, then he’s amazed

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rowretro · 11 months ago

Text

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

WARNINGS: drugs, harassment(?), blood, gory violence descriptions

HAPPY NEW YEAR YALLZ!!!!

✧CHAPTER 2✧

Sunghoon waited patiently for the girl to get ready. Y/n was always so precise with her makeup, loving to go for an artistic style, she wore a pretty short, white dress, that was very y2k, the pretty laces that made her seem so delicate. her eye-makeup done accordingly, glittery, and white, which made her long lashes stand out. His eyes then landed on her lips, god, the prettiest part of her, was that jawline and most certainly her lips, reminds of how much he wanted to kiss them, the pink-ish nude shade of lipstick, making them look so plush.

y/n smiled at him as she wore her high heels "ready to go?" y/n asked "woah woah woah woah wait there young lady! why is your dress so short?!" Heeseung asked as Y/n groaned rolling her eyes "Ugh why do you have to be like mom?! it's not even that short!" y/n whined as Heeseung glared at her "Sunghoon, Im trusting you with my babysister, you know wearing insanely short dresses like that to parties is how little girls get killed." Heeseung remarked as y/n pouted.

"It's good bro... let's go y/n" Sunghoon said as the girl followed him to his car. Upon arriving at the party, Sunghoon knew he had to stick closely to the girl. Drugs, alcohol, pretty boys. And worst of all, Jooyeon. He knew, 5 seconds of y/n just talking to him, she'll be having his tongue down her throat all night. Sunghoon smirked, coming up with an idea, he had paid some random drunk girl to go make out with Jooyeon, right in front of y/n earlier.

Heck as soon as Y/n saw that girl practically fuck him with his clothes on, she was infuriated. "Y/n... are you alright?" Sunghoon asked with that twinge of fake concern, the girl turned to him nodding "Im glad I broke up with him first... I-I mean... first loves aren't meant to be right?" the girl asked. She walked off to the bar, ordering drinks already. Sunghoon sat beside her, watching as she flawlessly gulped down up to 3 bottles of different spirits, raw, smoking a little weed on the side. Before she could even get to her second roll up, Sunghoon smacked her hand away gently "Don't do it." He sternly warned.

The girl whined as she turned to one of the dealers, Sunghoon, pat her head, taking the roll up out of her hold, He went over to a few dealers to give a kind warning. By the time he got back, his angel was nowhere there. Panic took over as he roamed the mansion, searching for the girl. There, in one of the bedrooms, 5 boys were surrounding her. The girl cluelessly giggling "Wah Sunghoon since when did you get a beard and get so ugly? why are there 5 not so pretty versions of you???" the girl asked, high and drunk out of her mind..

As one of the males slapped her, the other yanking her back her hair as another choked her, spitting vulgar words at her. Sunghoon locked the door behind him as he approached the group. Oh those boys did not know what they were up against. Sunghoon towered over them, his eyes growing red, as he noticed the glossy tears and that tiny little drip of blood that stained her skin. Sunghoon snapped the hand of the man who had slapped his darling.

His wings spurting out as he his hands wrapped around the neck of the man who choked y/n, his grip visually tightening, as the man's veins popped torturously. Oh he wasn't done with these filth bags. He ripped off every hair of the male who had yanked y/n's hair, his hands smashing a bottle and stabbing the man nonstop. 3 dead, 2 more to kill... Smirking, he slipped off one of y/n's high heels, puncturing the men all over. Once he was done, he took his time to tamper with the crime scene, making it look like the 5 men had fought and killed themselves.

Once clearing off all the blood, and gently slipping y/n's high heel on, he carried her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist as she sniffled "Sunghoon scaryyy... Sunghoon kill bad people... Sunghoon pretty wings!" She mumbled drunkenly, the man's hoon disappeared as he carried her out, knowing very well he will forget everything by tomorrow...

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

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ask-thebrothers-kaiba · 2 months ago

Note

FIX receiver fixes something in sender’s appearance (hair, tie, button, etc) for the first time - @modeinthemiddle

It had happened during Seto's latest public appearance. He'd flung himself from wherever, fallen from the sky like some kind of hallowed savior, and had only slightly - but still unceremoniously - caught a cuff link on the way down. No one had noticed, but it bugged him incessantly that he didn't stick that landing with perfection, and this was one of his favorite suits. Not just anyone would do for a repair, and another one so flawlessly formed to his figure could not be remade so simply. Big guns in the industry were in order to fix the cuff link, mend the tear, and that was one name: Mode.

He'd never met the woman a day in his life, but his team assured him she was perfect for the job. Not only would this repair job be unnoticed by others, he'd barely see it himself, they said. Fine.

Seto waited for her in his office, the otherwise unmarred, crisp white shirt laid neatly across his desk. When she had arrived, Seto stood, and nodded his head.

"Welcome. Your job's right here. I trust you'll make this quick; your reputation precedes you."

#asks #mode-inthemiddle #seto kaiba #yugioh

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th3sp4rr0w · 1 year ago

Text

Day Nine

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Nine Scar Reveal/Interrogation/Presumed Dead

Alt. Prompt For Day Nine Forced Feeding

Prompts Used for Day Nine All

Tw's; Medical Talk, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Slight Pregnancy Termination Mention (It Did Not Happen)

Chapter Nine under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the island was like a breath of fresh air. It was like having hope for the first time since he had done what he did.

Talia landed the plane flawlessly. Jason’s heart rate leveled out on the plane ride there. There were no bleeds, spikes, drops, nothing.

He’d hovered over his boy the entire time. He deserved to have someone looking out for him even if it was too late .

The bat unhooked the monitors and oxygen. The I.V.’s and nasogastric tube stayed in place as he wheeled him out of the plane. Talia lead the way as they walked through this island’s base doors, leading him to where the Lazarus pit had formed.

Talia could tell he wasn’t himself. She didn’t see how he could be; though he hadn’t officially lost him, she couldn’t imagine having to deal with Damian in that condition for this long.

It was like it was her own kid lying on the cot. How else could she have felt? He was still so young, had been through so much at his tender age. She pretended she didn’t see the irony as she thought of her own son, the weapons he always kept on him, acting like a shield. As a teenager, even well into her adulthood, she’d never thought of how small children really were. How fragile. How vulnerable. It wasn’t even having her son that had woken her up.

It took her beloved’s child getting so, so very broken and bruised for her to realize. She imagined any of the moments that her child’s life had been in danger. She wondered what she would’ve done if she didn’t have the pits to rely on. It made her chest tighten.

She knew if she tried to hide him away, she’d never rest. The moment he was conceived he was doomed to have an abnormal life. It was utterly pathetic. She was constantly scolding Bruce for being too weak; she wondered if her own lack of strength had caused her child pain. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew the answer.

Their reliance on the pits had been a mistake. Without it, they were nothing.

The walk had been both longer and shorter than they anticipated. Bruce’s impatience had shown through, the grunts and hums present in his normal vocabulary upped to a ridiculous level. In a way, she understood.

We all had things that kept us sane when things fell apart.

The green sludge bubbled. Bruce stood there, staring at it for a moment before pulling a syringe from one of his infinite pockets. She watched in muted... astonishment? Horror? As he removed the cap.

She watched him kneel down in front of the pit, sticking the needle in the sea of green. She folded her arms behind her to keep herself from reacting as he pulled on the plunger. Green liquid flowed into the barrel of the syringe in perfect synch with the rubber stopper. She watched him tap the syringe to get the air bubbles at the top, placing two fingers on the finger flange and his thumb on the rest to push out the air. He only stopped when there was a small spurt of green.

He walked over to the cot.

At first, she thought he was going to inject it all at once into his vein. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from speaking. This was what he wanted; it didn’t matter that it was incredibly idiotic -

He grabbed the primary I.V. bag , pulling it towards him while it was still on the hook. He took a hold of the secondary tubing. He inserted the needle into the small opening. He pressed gently on the plunger.

Her insides felt cold. How was this better than dunking the poor boy into the pits?

The green bloomed outwards as it was added to the bag. She watched as it curled and spread, infecting the clear bag with a radioactive glow. She’d always known the pits would emit its own light, beautiful and deadly, but this truly put it into perspective. The bag now positively glowed like it was full of kryptonite. She could see when it started going into the tube attached to the boy’s arm. Bruce agitated the bag to mix it up and within minutes, Jason’s small face was lit up with the green glow. Seeing it like this made it feel every bit as dangerous as it was. She had always known the pits weren’t to be messed with, but it truly sunk in at that moment.

They both watched him. At some points, the horror of what he’d just done washed over her and she couldn’t stand seeing the boy with the glowing vein where it had started to pour into his body. She found her eyes trailing over the zebra plush Bruce had carefully tucked beneath his arm.

Over the next few minutes, they could see some improvements. Wounds began to close and scab. She could swear if she looked too long at his exposed legs she could see nerve and muscle stitch itself together. She never had questioned how it did that, but watching it like this? The slow process demanded patience as they stood, waiting for answers. Talia was certain this might’ve been the most reckless thing the bat had ever done.

Somewhere in her, she knew she should probably be concerned about the near-manic, desperate look on Bruce’s usually stoic and expressionless face. If this didn’t work, she feared it might break him. He was already on the cliffs edge, wandering toes curling off and begging to freefall as it was.

It took an hour for the I.V. to nearly empty into Jason’s veins. Neither said anything during the process. Bruce worked silently, prepping another bag in advance. This time, he gently shook it until it was one homogenous glow. He attached it to a new I.V. line, unscrewing his old one from the extension set. Once the new one was in place, he allowed it to creep into Jason’s body.

She couldn’t believe it was working. She had been here for a long time, and she had never seen anything like this in her life. Never had someone thought of injecting the pits into their veins, not even her father. She supposed that a parent would do or try anything for their kid. It was what made her certain that her boy would be safe when he went to live with Bruce.

They were almost finished with the new bag when it happened.

His body had mostly, miraculously, healed. She suspected he’d been dosing the boy with sleeping medications to keep him asleep for the entire infusion. She had been staring at him, the constant rise and fall of his chest, counting his breaths. His breathing had been gradually slowing down before it stopped all at once.

She hadn’t had to alert Bruce. He swore loudly and rushed into action, checking his pulse and starting CPR. Talia counted the minutes in her head, knowing he would never do it. Never know when to call it.

Each pump of the boy’s chest left her more on edge. Any damage done would be another injury to add to the list. Another thing that they’d have to heal. She watched Bruce desperately attempt to revive his son. It... it was a fruitless effort.

They both knew it when the bat leaned away. There was no choice now.

“Beloved, give him here,” she said softly. “We’ll see if the pit-”

“Shut up,” he said softly. He never took his eyes off him.

“Beloved-”

“You wanted this to happen.”

She reeled back as if she was struck. “Excuse me?”

“You wanted to have credit for saving him,” he breathed. “You know the pits do nothing for those already dead-”

“He still has time,” she insisted. “Just let me-”

“No!” he shouted, finally turning to look towards her. “YOU wanted credit for saving him! YOU admitted you had something to tell me one day! YOU were the one to suggest this and now-”

“I did no such thing,” her voice was dangerous. “I thought you could handle this. I was willing to let you do it your way, and this is how-”

“Please, you just wanted to gloat about-”

“Shut it,” she hissed. If he wanted a fight?

“If I had my way, I’d have taken Jason here without you.”

She’d give him one.

“I would have dropped him off like nothing had ever happened. I changed my mind because I thought you’d want to be here for your child; instead, you took over things you had no business to be taking over,” her voice was stiff as she continued, “Clearly, I should have stepped in a long time ago. You did this to him, Bruce. You did.”

Bruce’s eyes were hard. She was certain if it wasn’t for their history that she’d be lying on the floor. “You don’t have kids. Do you have any idea what it’s like to worry about them? To see them hurt like this?!” his voice was raised. His words felt like a slap in the face.

“Shut up, Bruce. You don’t deserve them-”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Do not put words in my mouth,” she barked, “This is your mistake. Now let me fix-”

“No! No, this wasn’t a mistake, Talia. You did this to him! He’s only fifteen , for gods’ sake!”

“I am well aware of how old he is-”

“You don’t know anything about him!”

“And you do?”

The fight carried on, raised voices covering the soft noises that had started coming from the boy.

He wheezed and coughed. He tried to sit up and that’s when Talia noticed him.

The “J” on his cheek glowed green. The scars on his hands and legs looked smooth but were a noticeably different color. He was still wheezing. She had to do something.

It had to be her because Bruce had just collapsed to his knees. It had to be her and it had to be quick because his too-blue eyes were beginning to roll into the back of his head, think, Talia, think-

In a stroke of genius, she remembered one of the decorative vases they had laying near the entrance of the room. She ran for it, coming back and scooping up the green waters. She carried the cup of bubbling liquid to Jason’s cot and coaxed him to drink, forcing it into his mouth and making him swallow.

A chunk of his bangs turned white. She barely noticed as she continued to make him drink.

His breathing evened out. The green glows in his body faded, though the scars looked positively irritated. She couldn’t imagine it was comfortable, but unless Bruce wanted to hook him up to another I.V. bag she didn’t think they’d be fading anytime soon.

The zebra had fallen wayside in the heat of the moment. To do anything but stare at each other in shock, she picked it up from the floor and dusted it off. She carefully placed it in his lap and backed away slowly.

He reached for it, looking at it for a moment. A keening sound came from his throat. “Papa?”

The bat had been silent and wide-eyed on the floor until that moment. He stood up and fussed over his son, cupping his cheeks gently, whispering to him and reassuring him when he began crying that he’d lied and hid things and-

Talia felt like she shouldn’t be there, especially after the way they had screamed at each other. She did her job; he was healed. He would survive. She doubted he’d like that scar, but there were cosmetic fixes they could probably look into if he wanted. It definitely wasn’t as good of a job as it would be if she’d been allowed to just dunk the boy, but-

“Talia?” she heard his small voice ask. “Papa? What happened?”

Bruce took a deep breath. “You... you got hurt, Jason. Really hurt,” he said.

She refrained from scoffing. There was no sense in lying to the child; he was fine now, wasn’t he? It’s not as if he was still at risk of passing-

“Don’t lie,” he said, voice small. He played with the mane of the zebra.

Watching them interact made her heart ache. She was sick of revelations and hurt; she wanted to get this over with so she could deal with these pesky thoughts and emotions on her own time. Or, better yet, overbook herself so she didn’t have to deal with them at all. An Al Ghul should not be allowing themselves to have such weaknesses, after all.

She spoke before Bruce got another chance. “I heard of what happened. The rumors were that Robin was barely alive after an encounter with your so-called ‘Crime Prince’. I decided I needed to check on you myself.”

She wanted to tell him everything. The injury logs she had helped herself to, the report Bruce had typed up, his seizure, that terrifying moment when they thought him to be deceased. She had always been taught to give every detail; every shred of information as to learn from their mistakes. Second chances were hardly given out; in her world, you were lucky to get a chance to begin with. Understanding your failings was imperative to ensuring they never happened again.

She looked at him and saw the terrified look in his eye. Bruce had crawled onto the cot to cradle him in his arms, kissing his temple. He had smoothed his features to not look as stoic. He was leaving it up to her. Her eyes trailed back to the zebra Jason was clutching in his lap.

“I found you near comatose. After offering my help to Bruce, he agreed we’d take you to the pits. Your father did not want to dunk you in fully, as he feared that would be too traumatic. Instead, we administered small doses at a time through an intravenous fluids line. When you awoke, you had not fully healed yet. It was a risk, but I feared causing you more harm if nothing was done. I poured some of the waters down your throat.”

Jason nodded. “I almost died,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Talia saw no need to correct him, “But you did not. Welcome back, habibi.”

It was likely the most tender thing she had ever done. She felt the act had been appreciated when Bruce looked at her and mouthed ‘thank you’.

She nodded and turned to leave.

“Talia?” his small voice asked.

“Yes?”

“Why did you help me?”

Anger bubbled up in her. She attempted to deny it. She turned and walked to the cot, putting a gentle hand on the cheek that had been swollen before. “You deserved it,” she said. “You deserved to be helped because you did not deserve what happened to you.”

He began crying again. She wiped his tears in a way she had never done for her own son.

“Why’d she do that to me,” he sobbed. “She- she could’ve left me al-o-one,” he hiccupped.

She barely spared a glance towards Bruce as she climbed onto the cot with them, pressing him into her. Bruce was at his back. He tried to cling to both at the same time. She never thought she’d see the day one of Bruce’s kids looked to her for comfort.

She couldn’t help but to compare it to her own.

“Habibi,” she murmured, “Do not think of it. You did not deserve that, and she was wrong for it.”

“Did she live?”

She hushed him. “No more of that. Do not burden yourself thinking of the well-being of others over your own, especially when those you are caring for do not value you in the same way. She did not value you, Jason. You will not spare another thought to her.”

He nodded.

This was the comfort she had never given to, or gotten from, another being. The crying child ruined her shirt, yet she could not seem to find it in her to care for it. All she wanted was to soothe him.

Although it was unbecoming of an Al Ghul to do so, she thought of what could’ve been if she hadn’t kept the secrets she had. She had never questioned her choice to side with her father. She had never needed to. She had had her life planned from the moment she was conceived, and she had been content to fill the role. The boundaries she pushed were never truly tested to their limits, and she knew it. She had never stopped to wonder what could’ve been.

If she had been soothed like this when she was much younger. What could’ve happened if training hadn’t been survival. She wondered if she’d be a better warrior for it. She wondered if she could’ve been a better mother.

Her child was five. She remembered what it had been like to be pregnant, her father attempting to insist she terminate in the early stages since she’d be out of commission so long. She had just barely managed to convince him it was a good opportunity.

She remembered every detail of the birth, how he felt in her arms and his soft, milky breath puffing out over her cheeks. He’d been put into training nearly immediately. She’d never questioned it. Even knowing her father would kill him if given the chance. Knowing he’d likely already be dead if it weren’t for the pits.

It would take time. It would take effort. It would take work. But sitting here, softly rubbing down the back of someone else’s crying child, she swore she would do better for herself and her boy. She wasn’t sure if she would ever earn it, but he at the very least deserved it. It would take cunning, wit, and the courage she had never had the guts to conjure up.

She thought of his little face, still full of baby fat. The scars that already marred his once perfect skin.

It would be difficult but he was worth it. It would take time, but he was worth every second. She would spend the rest of her life in regret for not coming to her senses sooner, but right here, in this very moment, she was swearing to do better for him. Only for him.

If Bruce fit into that picture, great. If he did not, that was fine too.

She steeled herself, taking her vow.

After all, above all, and Ah Ghul always gets what they want. Talia wanted this would every fiber of her being.

So have it she shall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding a kid on the rooftop was the last thing Nightwing had been expecting.

Agent A had contacted him through the coms to let him know Batman had a breakdown and took Robin on an impromptu tour to go see the world’s most radioactive pool with an Al Ghul, so that was so nice. He swore he was going to beat that man black and blue someday-

He was pretty sure Bruce wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually go through with it. He could be incredibly selfish, and impulsive, and sometimes he thought he knew everything and ignored facts. After everything they’d been through, everything they’d done to make sure Jason pulled through this, he better not throw it away trying to find a miracle cure. The thought made his blood pressure rise.

He’d been pissed, looking for a couple more criminals to bust before he called it a night. He was in Gotham this week to be closer to Robin, but also to make sure the Bat didn’t go too far. He’d been pushing it a couple of times this week and he wasn’t sure what all that was about.

Babs had been helping them, of course, but she had college work to do and she was only one person. It took at least three at a time to handle Bruce on a good day.

When he saw two people on the rooftop, he’d been suspicious. He hadn’t crept close enough to hear what was being said, but he knew they were there.

Looking at them hurt, like they were beings mortals were never supposed to see. They were otherworldly and felt so out of reach. That rarely spelled out good news for the world, so he stuck around.

When one of them left, he could immediately feel most of the awe he’d been full of leaving his body. He looked at the remaining being. White hair with a black suit; he’d assumed it was a new villain. He’d spotted a couple people walking around in white suits, and as far as he knew that was nobody's trademark around here; he assumed a new rogue was moving in.

It hadn’t gone as planned. It was a kid, he thought. He was scared and had powers, maybe a new meta? He’d thrown something that scorched the building and Nightwing had let his anger for the bat take a hold of him, breeding impulsive decisions. He’d branded his escrima sticks, turned on, electricity crackling between them beautifully.

He’d caused this kid to have a panic attack. He had one himself when he started picking out features of his baby brother in the boy.

They had the same nose. They had the same eye shape and chin. The only difference between them was the hair, his eyes, and the fangs. Though, it explained it perfectly if Jason had... passed away.

Yeah. Batgirl was more than earning her cookies tonight, talking him down gently and allowing him to carry the child after he had just gotten his gross feelings all over this case.

… Maybe they shouldn’t have taken the mysterious child to the cave. In his defense, he was pretty sure he was going to get another brother with the way Alfred was looking at him as he walked around in silent awe was anything to go by. Plus, Batman wasn’t here to say no. See, this is why you shouldn’t take flights to only god knows where in the middle of the night without informing people. They get back at you by doing things they know you wouldn’t want them doing, often in your own house.

He vaguely wondered if Alfred would help him convince Bruce the boy had been here the whole time. It would be hilarious.

Alfred walked over, holding a tray of sandwiches. He was already in his own domino after he and Batgirl warned him they were coming home with an extra.

See how nice it is when you have a warning? You can prepare-

“Good evening, young sir,” he started out, ever formal. “I am called Agent A. I must admit I was shocked when Nightwing informed me you were going to be joining us tonight, but I have managed to prepare sandwiches. There are other things cooking as we speak and leftovers in the fridge I can heat up if you are interested. Would you by chance be willing to partake in them with us? Or tell us your name?”

The boy blinked. He looked like he was having trouble remembering how to speak. “I... I’m Phantom,” he said slowly.

It was more than they’d been able to get out of him.

Alfred smiled. “Phantom it is. Now, are there any allergies or preferences before we get started?”

“I’m vegetarian,” his voice was still low, like he was afraid of speaking too loudly. “S-, uh, Black Dahlia would probably kill me again if I go back on my word.”

… Well that was odd. They filed the information away for later; they didn’t want to push their luck as of right now.

“Very well,” Alfred replied without missing a beat. He started pointing to different sandwiches, “This one is cucumber. It’s one of my personal favorites to make, and is quite delicious. If that isn’t your preference, these are egg salad, assuming you are not vegan-” he paused to look at the child.

“Egg and stuff is fine. Just no meat,” he said lowly.

Alfred smiled. “Good. Now, these-”

He kept explaining different sandwiches before leaving the platter on the table he’d made Bruce shove down there years ago. He excused himself before he went upstairs.

Knowing Alfred, he was baking cookies right now. Bless that man.

“Phantom,” Batgirl said, “do you, uh, know who we are?”

He gulped a bit. “I always assumed the Gotham vigilantes were, uh, fake,” he coughed. “I should probably stop assuming things. I’m always wrong,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.

He froze. “I met bigfoot,” he blurted out. “He was a ghost. Kind of, uh, puts things into perspective.”

That... hadn’t been what they were expecting.

“Okay,” he said cheerily instead. He could bullshit his way through anything for at least five minutes. “Was he nice at least?”

He snorted. “He tried to kill me and my friends.”

“Well that’s not good,” he replied. The kid gave no indication he was fucking with them. Given what he saw earlier, he had doubts he was.

“No.”

“I’m Nightwing, by the way,” he stuck out his hand.

He grinned. “Phantom, though I’m sure you already heard,” he took it.

“I’m Batgirl,” she decided to jump in before this conversation could get any weirder. “It’s nice to meet you, Phantom.”

He turned his boyish grin to her. Nothing like Jason’s. It was as soothing as it was uncanny.

“Nice to meet you too, Batgirl,” he said.

“So, Phantom,” she asked, “Where are you from?”

He fidgeted in his seat. “Um...”

“You don’t have to answer,” Nightwing jumped in. He could see she was trying her best to be subtle, but they really did need answers. “We just want to understand what happened back there a little better. You seemed pretty out of it.”

“... Yeah.”

He didn’t speak further on it.

They dropped it easily, trying to extract information a different way.

They asked if he went to school. Who his friends were. He kept giving answers like “Pharaoh” and “Black Dahlia”. Most of them made little sense.

They let him ask questions, too. They tried not to show concern as he asked how Agent A got the food to taste so good and casually dropped that his parents reanimated everything in their fridge often enough that he thought about keeping dry food and snacks in the house to eat??

They were either being fucked with, and this kid was incredible at sticking to the bit, or this was an actual ongoing occurrence.

They weren’t sure which option they preferred.

By the time Alfred had gotten down with the cookies, he’d had a medical kit with him.

“Now, Phantom,” he greeted, “I noticed you had a nasty bruise on your head. I would like to take a look at it and any other injuries you may have, if that’s alright.”

He looked back at Nightwing and Batgirl.

“Agent A has been doing most of my medical maintenance since I was nine,” he reassured. “I promise you’ll be okay.” He dropped his voice, cupping his hand over his mouth conspiratorially before whispering, “He even lets you have an extra cookie if you stay still.”

Phantom laughed a bit before agreeing to let the older man take a look.

“How’d you get such a nasty thing?” Alfred asked.

He fidgeted. “I... someone hit me in the head with a bat,” he said.

“Oh?” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Why would someone do that?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I still don’t know why,” he said in a whisper.

Nightwing glanced at Alfred’s face as he glanced at his. They nodded and looked at Babs. She also nodded subtly, pretending it was because she was enjoying a cookie.

“Mmm,” she hummed while making the motion and swallowed before saying, “These are really good, Agent A. Would you like one, Phantom?”

“What kind?”

“White chocolate chunk raspberry with macadamia nut,” she responded.

He whistled and winced when Alfred pressed gently against the bruise. “Sure!”

“After his exam, I presume?” He looked up at Babs, eyebrow raised.

She blushed. “Of course, Agent A.”

He nodded. “Very well,” he said. “It looks to be healing nicely. There’s been no nausea? No headaches, tiredness...?”

“No, sir,” he replied.

“Oh, nonsense, call me Agent A,” he said, looking the boy over. “You can get that cookie now, as long as you answer one thing.”

He looked up at Alfred. This expression reminded Nightwing of Jason; his chest ached.

“What is it?” he asked tentatively.

“What is that on your hand?”

He made a small ‘oh’ before holding his hand out for Alfred to see. “It’s a Lichtenburg scar,” he said softly.

Alfred took his hand gently. “My word, how does someone get one of these in such a peculiar place? Where does it end?” he asked.

Phantom took a deep breath. “I, um... live wire,” he said dismissively as if he didn’t just make alarm bells ring. He began peeling himself partially out of his suit to uncover a mass of scarring going up his left arm and across his shoulder.

Some of it creeped towards his neck, but most of it traveled along the curves of his chest and back. Dick was almost certain those were the same patterns of nerves and blood vessels in that area, all ending right where his heart should be.

The adults were silent for a few seconds. “Oh my,” Alfred said before catching himself. “That’s quite a serious wound. It looks like it’s healed alright, you’ve had no pain? No nerve damage?”

“It’s better some days than others,” the boy admitted, already pulling the suit back on. “It really only bugs me when I overuse my hand. Play too many video games, write too long, stuff like that,” he answered.

“Very well,” Alfred replied. “I believe you’ve earned your cookie. Which one would you like to start with?” he asked.

“Um,” he said softly and looked at Babs. “What was the one you had earlier?”

“This one,” she said, tapping the plate.

He grabbed the napkin Alfred offered him and took one, taking a careful bite before humming in surprise. “This is really good!” he said after he swallowed.

“I do try,” the butler replied humbly, because he was just like that.

All of the information they were getting was starting to paint a very concerning picture. They hadn’t been able to extract a hometown or a legal name from the child, but it was clear he was very nervous and jumpy. He looked one wrong word away from bolting, even with them pulling all the stops to try and prevent it.

The longer he studied him, the more sure he was that he had been some sort of vigilante in his area. The suit, the persona, the way he carried himself and talked before he caught what he was doing and adjusted his behavior? Something was wrong.

The boy also made his heart ache. He didn’t have the same mannerisms as Jason, and the scarring on his left hand was enough to prove he wasn’t, but he looked enough like him for it to be jarring. From the glances Alfred and Babs through his way when Phantom wasn’t looking, he could tell they thought the same. It was nice knowing he wasn’t completely out of line on the rooftop, but he’d really thought for a moment...

It was stupid. Bruce... Bruce promised he’d make it. He was really clinging to that, ignoring the little voice that whispered that it was Bruce’s fault he was in that position to begin with.

He remembered when he found Jason’s phone sitting on his desk. The boy had never seen the need for a passcode and had never set one. He picked it up. He’d turned it on.

He didn’t go through any of his private messages with his friends. Didn’t even really look at those; he couldn’t recall a single name he’d seen except for hers. He’d read through every email on the account, seeing the way she’d manipulated and used him. He hadn’t given the phone to the bat; hadn’t mentioned the emails. If Jason wanted to tell him if- when he woke up, that was his business.

He didn’t care what kind of condition his brother was in. If Batman got hold of his phone now, he’d leave nothing unchecked. Any sort of private conversation his brother was having would be between him, the person he was having it, and the bat. He would turn into a tyrant and start bugging devices again; he didn’t want that for Jason, and he was pretty damn sure Bruce would bug his phone again. He sure as hell didn’t want another awkward talk from Bruce about internet safety. He’s 18, he can make his own decisions, and also, that was completely on Bruce for bugging his fucking phone .

He was willing to admit that it was a little selfish, but what was done was already done. Showing Bruce the emails wouldn’t do any good now. He would have a conversation with Jason himself about it.

His thoughts snapped back to reality as he heard Phantom’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “What was that? I got a bit distracted.”

“I asked if you were okay,” he said softly.

It hurt. He treated Jason so badly when he first arrived. They had really only just been getting along; and now, he was...

He smiled. “I’m okay.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. He ignored him.

Batgirl glared at him. He ignored her.

“So!” he clapped his hands, “Phantom, what’s your favorite tv show?”

He jumped, but recovered quickly. “I, um...”

He held back a sigh. He got an idea.

“Hey...” he whispered. “Did you know that Batman-” he leaned forwards, glancing around for dramatic effect- “Is deathly afraid of bats?”

He could hear Alfred groan softly. Babs giggled into her hand. Phantom himself snorted and choked out, “Really?!”

Dick himself let out a chuckle. That had blown his mind when he was little; he assumed Bruce loved bats. He had insisted they get bat-themed everything any time they could get away with it for that very reason (now he just did it because it was funny).

“Yup,” he said. “I was just as shocked as you were. I was pretty young when he took me in, and he never told me he was deathly afraid of the things. One night, when I was a little younger than you are now, I found a few of these little bats that were hurt,” he started. Babs was already stifling laughter and, although he’d deny it if called out, he could see Alfred’s shoulders shaking with mirth. He had already began cracking up himself.

“I uh,” his shoulders shook, “I was really concerned about them, right? They fit in the palm of my hand and...” he trailed off. “They were badly hurt. I think a cat got a hold of them or something,” he continued.

Phantom hadn’t noticed his switch in mood. Babs and Alfred definitely had.

“I did what any teenage-something would do; I put them in a box and brought them to Batman. Surely he liked bats, right?”

They were back to restrained laughter, but it wasn’t the happy thing it had been. Phantom had caught on to what was about to happen, his own shoulders shaking with laughter.

Dick slammed a hand on the table. “I feel like he didn’t appreciate it enough!”

“Certainly not, sir,” Alfred sniffed, “Can’t imagine why a man who dresses up as a bat wouldn’t want to have bats in his home. In his room. On his bed,” he smirked a bit. “I haven’t the faintest idea as to why he would run out of the room screaming.”

There wasn’t a hope in the world to get Dick and Babs under control in the next few minutes.

Phantom was no better, mouth muffled and shoulders shaking. “On his bed?!” he wheezed.

“I-” he was interrupted by his own breathless laughter, “I thought they’d get co- cold.”

Babs grabbed the table. “He-he had to call my dad,” she forced out, “To come get them!”

And maybe things weren’t perfect. They certainly weren't okay. The underlying tension was like waiting for a balloon to finally pop.

But Nightwing was a big brother. This may not be his baby brother, and he wasn’t very good at this yet, but he couldn’t just let him... stay like this. He looked so sad.

This kid wasn’t his baby brother, but he was someone’s baby brother. He’d do his best.

He just hoped his best would be good enough.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc robin #robin #batman #ai-less whumptober day nine #kite flies over the nightingale nest

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