#hue & cry fic art

[birdstooth]

I was going to feel cringe about making this post, but then one person liked it and I got a lot of validation from that, lmao,so @thedonswife13, this is for you buddy 🥹

Btw idk if you have read the series but I highly recommend it! It’s actually has more of a bleak, tragedy kind of vibe, but in a way where you can’t stop reading bc the story has its poetic little claws in your heart.

[birdstooth]

Looooool I can’t 😂😂😂 this is literally the kind of psychological warfare I engaged in at the age of 12 y/o when I fought with my parents and wanted to “punish” them so they would come apologize to me first 😭

For real I’d just sulk in my room and not come for dinner - and the whole time I’d be so hungry but thinking like “they must be so worried about me hahaha, let them suffer from my silent treatment!! I hope they feel very tormented and guilty 😈”

Meanwhile my parents were probably having a peaceful dinner with nice conversation like, “phew that kid finally gave us a break! I couldn’t deal with that whiny brat for another second 😮‍💨”

Anyway, I can’t get a grasp on what the frickle frackle kind of clothing people wore during the medieval period, so I went with a mishmash of things I saw on Google images and Etsy, which probably resulted in the most wildly inaccurate outcome, so honestly I’m just hoping you guys don’t know what they wore either 🤷‍♀️

Ok but basically, imagine this happened at your work lmao 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Hue and Cry

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You notice a sudden change in Lord Barnes.

Note: This is just me being self-indulgent. I start a new job on Monday and yesterday, someone close to me passed. I’m trying to distract myself but I’m too stressed to work on an standing series. This will have at least one other part.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You scattered fresh herbs over the rushes carefully as you backed down the hall. The woven mats would absorb the scent and keep the floors tidy until the next sweep. When you reached the corner, you tied up the sachet and gathered up your bucket and broom. The corridors were already smelling fresher though the task had kept you well past the evening meal. 

Keep reading

[taegularities]

entertainer (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut ➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, sexual tension, he is so attracted to her :'), mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, dark past(s), crying, fear, confrontation and fighting, cocky kook, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, etc.), more warnings on drop day once the fic is finished!! not much for the teaser itself, though <3 ➳ wc: 1.8k :') (around 20k for the full thing) ➳ a/n: scratches head. this has been a long time coming and i'm beyond curious how y'all will like it :') very new and experimental, so let's see how it goes!! as always, drop a message to lmk what you think of this lil glimpse, i'll be waiting with dangling feet hehe!! <3

➳ give the Entertainer playlist a first listen! 🖤   

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs 

“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”

“Fuckbo—”

“Nevermind.”

If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done that a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.

You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?

Yet.

You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.

Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices once the two of you halt in front of another piece of work. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me like that?”

You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”

“Sure.”

Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.

“So,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”

You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.

But somehow, he only recognises a tranquil ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is tender, but wrapped in dark mystery.

How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?

When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly odd things.

“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”

“But it’s not, yeah?”

“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must be a trigger, or a thought on something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”

Interesting…

“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.

You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”

“Ahhh. Like what?”

“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibition made me realise how that colour makes me cry.”

Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.

You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who've earned it.”

Earned it? How? 

Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?

And then…

If that’s what it is.

He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack. 

“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.

“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your gaze. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”

Someone…

Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.

He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t. Yet.

Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”

“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — a nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”

Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like this when you were at the meeting, or in his office. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.

And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.

But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.

One who shrugs all the puzzles away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.

He inquires, “Are you always this much of an open book?”

“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”

“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”

“Hah. Well, I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Strokes his ego, though. And then, out of the blue again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”

Jungkook has barely inhaled half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.

Perhaps this is enough for now, visiting the overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.

Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.

But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.

Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake to go with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”

“Oh. One?” you ask, “Don’t you want one?”

“I do.”

“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”

Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as hell. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for us two.”

You laugh — a candied, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”

Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip of his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. While he does avoid them, it’s still always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.

He sighs.

“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.

And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, serving two perfectly prepared cappuccinos and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge piece.

You thank her with a gentle smile, and tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your dangling silver earring.

And he watches.

Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”

Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.

And then… oh God.

He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head.

All the way through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag the wet tip of your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.

Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance in snail’s pace… makes him sick.

When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sound around him comes alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.

You catch him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.

But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try.”

You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — and maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.

Making you smile must be an achievement, though, right? If only… you didn’t think of him like…

He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.

He wishes he could.

His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him live, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… that’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”

“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you interesting. And somewhat attractive.”

People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?

Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”

He shakes his head, clicks his tongue.

“You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”

Is it the habit of never failing; getting what he wants? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?

You’re just a person.

Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel. 

He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before.

No matter what it is; Jungkook only understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.

Wants you to be the colour green for him. 

wrote most of it now and while sick, so it might change hehe! but i hope it's okay so far, and it shall only get better!! i'm so so excited for this, like i've been working on it and putting thought into it since october, so i hope it's worth the wait <3

as always, send your thoughts, questions, complaints lol lemme know what you think or i might perish sniff. super curious to know!! also, here's the taglistttt 🤍 love and appreciate you all <3

[tevanbegins]

You guys. It's getting extremely exhausting now. Do you realise that toxic BoBs want to make sure that we Bucktommy fans don't enjoy our fandom experience at all? And by responding to cheap anon asks and reposting screenshots of all the disgusting vitriol they keep spreading on our tags, you are giving them the attention they seek and letting them accomplish their motives — stealing our joy. They are not worth giving any explanations to! They are not going to give a shit about what we have to say to them and it's definitely not going to change their minds. In fact they are going to enjoy seeing us getting riled up over their baseless nonsense! Don't give them that power!

What's the point in raising a hue and cry over their BS? It will keep happening and getting worse as long as the show is running. Nobody is going to protect us from that. Oliver, Ryan, or Tim aren't going to sympathize with us or come to our aid, they don't give a flying crap about this fandom toxicity and ship war nonsense. So the only thing we can do for our sanity is block all the negativity the moment we spot it without engaging further with it, as outrageous or provoking their shitty opinions might be.

Let's just focus on sharing the positive stuff. Fics, art, gifs, edits, etc. All the Tevan content that makes us happy. Please. Let's not add to the negativity by giving antis the importance and acknowledgement they don't deserve!

___

[hakogyi]

i drew a thing for this beautiful fanfic by @the-nameless-ramekin >:3c i 100% recommend this fic for people who enjoy crying (and beautiful writing in general!!) anyway hey rame...it's ao3 user bachstreetsolo o(-( i love your writing (i cried!!)

keep reading for rambles and alt images 🌟

fun little detail (kind of) - i gave each character clothes in a hue close to their partner's hair colour...vil's was a bit hard to work in but she has a bit of white in her hat. also sorry for having the opposite of same face syndrome

honestly i think this might be the most detailed piece i've done? even my rook birthday art wasn't this intense omg. i aim to do more detailed pieces in the future 💥 i can't keep doing flat backgrounds forever...i'll keep improving 🔥 and seriously read the fic it's crazy good

[missmungoe]

Hi, this is breathtaking.

Shanks and Makino (and a sleeping Rowan) in Amazon Lily, chapter 26 of @missmungoe 's showstopping Mnemosyne

Words can't describe how batshit insane this story has been making me for HALF A DECADE. I vividly remember hearing about this idea for the first time and to this day I am still in awe and shock and wonder at how you're pulling it off!!! Here's to you, friend, and a couple of my favourite moments!!

[1waywardbirdlane]

Unsolicited Lore Dump

tagged by @ancuninfiles , a beloved mutual

Do you make your bed? Occasionally when i’m tidying up and want everything to look nice & neat, but it’s not something I do habitually. 

Favourite number? 19. Not sure why

What's your job? I tell people I’m a homemaker. 

If you could go back to school would you? If I could go to a trade school, like for carpentry or welding or something, I would in order to build my skills and my art portfolio into larger scale and more intricate projects. I would maybe go to university. I would definitely love to learn more. I love being able to deep dive into a subject, to really learn the nuance & history of it. There’s definitely lots of subjects I’d be interested in, but if I were to actually devote that kind of time to school, I’d also want to have a goal in mind- a Masters or PHD or whatever.

Can you parallel park? Yep

Do you think aliens are real? I think it’s the height of arrogance to assume that there are no other sapient life forms in our whole universe. As much knowledge as we humans have accumulated, there are most definitely still things we cannot even perceive, let alone understand. Most media depicts “alien life forms” as largely humanoid, but that is so limiting and it drives me crazy. Of the films & TV I’ve seen, the film Arrival is the most unique and exciting depiction of alien encounters on earth. The creatures themselves were more imaginative, but also their concepts of language and time were presented in ways that felt fresh and caused a lot of introspection, both for characters on screen and for me personally.

Can you drive a manual car? No

What's your guilty pleasure? This is probably a terrible thing to say here, but fanfic? I still feel like I’m going to be teased if someone asks why I’m crying over my phone and I tell them the new chapter of my favorite fic came out and my ship had a huge fight. (Looking at you @Aevallare jk ilysm) Or if someone asks what I’m reading these days and the only answer I have is “so many Astarion/bg3 fanfics that I literally can’t keep the Tavs straight anymore.” I know I shouldn't feel embarrassed, and if anyone said all these things to me I’d tell them to be proud and just enjoy what they enjoy, fuck everybody else. But…I’ve realized I actually got teased a LOT about things I loved as a kid. My family would pick on me about what I realize now were hyperfixations, like a movie or certain activities that I seemed obsessed with. When I watched fellowship of the ring everyday one summer my brother would mockingly quote lines at me and tell me I needed to get over it. 

Tattoos? I have 2! A henna/paisley -like flower design on the inside of my left forearm and 3 sparrows flying from my right shoulder blade up to my neck. & plans for MANY more

Favorite color? Green. All of its shades and hues. Purple as a close second, especially lilac purple.

Favourite types of music? I think I have a very eclectic taste. I can appreciate most kinds of music, but… folk, indie rock/pop, grunge are probably the most accurate categories? I like female singer/songwriters- Ingrid Michaelson & Maggie Rogers. We’ve seen the Decemberists like 5 or 6 times, but probably my most favoritest band is Incubus. I’m convinced Hozier is some kind of magic Fae creature who fucks off to another realm or dimension between albums. I’ll fight anyone who tries to take a shot at Eddie Vedder. Bowie always puts me in a good mood and reminds me of college and Wes Anderson movies. Radiohead and the White Stripes were some of the first bands my sister introduced me to. The Flaming Lips’ Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots and Lauryn Hill’s Miseducation of Lauryn Hill are still some of my favorite albums of all time. 

Do you like puzzles? Yes! It kind of runs in our family on my mom’s side. If you went to visit Grandma and Grandpa and they were having a quiet night, they'd be doing a puzzle and listening to music or watching a movie. My aunts and uncles do it, and so do a few cousins, and my sister & her family love them too. I can get lost for hours with a good podcast and a puzzle. 

Any phobias? I originally went on an ADHD tangent about bear bells and tip toeing to cliff edges, but then I realized the only phobia I probably have is deep water. I LOVE being in the water, water creatures and ecosystems, but if I think too much about what is possibly swimming around just below me I can get a little freaked out. Truthfully this might stem from a “game” my brother and sister played with me when we were little and our house had a pool. They were 11 and 10. Both of them had taken swim lessons, could swim underwater and jump in without holding their noses. I was 3 and had a bathing suit with a built in innertube. They would take turns diving under the water with their hands on their heads imitating fins and grab my ankles and yank me down. Obviously it scared me and they did it so much that I stopped going in the pool with them.

Favourite childhood sport? Soccer

Do you talk to yourself? Oh yeah. Sometimes I pass it off as if I’m talking to my cat, or one of my plants, but yes very much a lot.

What movies do you adore? The Lord of the Rings Trilogy is #1 for of all time. Nacho Libre is another all time favorite. What We Do in the Shadows, the John Wick movies, Fast & Furious movies, Mad Max Fury Road…

Coffee or tea? I love both but if I have to choose then COFFEEFirst thing you wanted to be growing up? Somewhere in my parents’ house there is an old video of me saying that when I grew up I wanted to be a princess or a mermaid.

Gunna tag all 10 of my followers lol. If you've already shared yours just ignore me lol.

@astarionancuntnin @midnight-musings-of-nyx @adoenamedjane @originalin @giganticrodent @shewhowas39 @halsinwhore @swancensus

I really love doing these!!

[sevdonic]

Severus Snape and Aesop Sharp, illustrated by the lovely voxophile on AO3 for my fic, “double-edged wand”

first fic I’ve ever written and first artwork I’ve ever received. I could cry this is the best thing in the world and I am cherishing this forever

Summary:

In your seventh year at Hogwarts, your mentorship with the enigmatic Potions Master, Severus Snape, teeters on the edge of an exhilarating yet complicated turning point.

Just as you dare to explore your complex feelings for him, you're accepted into the prestigious Goldhawk Initiative—a specialized Auror training program led by the Ministry of Magic.

Under the tutelage of the charismatic Aesop Sharp, a captivating ex-Auror, you're thrust into into a world of rigorous training, advanced spell-casting and high-stakes law enforcement.

In a world on the cusp of a Wizarding War, you navigate a labyrinth of secrets and dualities. Severus Snape, your potion-making mentor, offers a world of hidden depths and unspoken affection, while Aesop Sharp, the enigmatic ex-Auror, ignites the thrill of danger and the allure of the unknown.

Both men, adding contrasting hues to your life and shrouded in their own mysteries, lead you to a tantalizing crossroads. With the impending war casting shadows, their secretive pasts hover close, challenging you to choose between the art of subtlety and the adrenaline of the frontline.

[sisyphusofdishes]

been a treat to see your art on my dash lately :3

Still working on that demon realm project and thought I'd show you the rough draft of the biomes I adapted from your ideas!

“Hell” :

Valleys home to vernal pools that can grow up to five feet deep, it’s the rainiest and hottest biome in the realm. Life here is resilient, and even larger than in the Wasteland, if you can believe it.  The pomegranates growing here are the biggest and juiciest in the realm, and the area is generally known for its gardening/gathering and hunting communities.

Sunny Depths:

The pink sand at the bottom of the lake is almost rose in hue and glows brightly enough that even in deep shade from surrounding flora, the clearing is as bright as if in direct sunlight. This lake is actually the uppermost point of an enormous groundwater system; demons tracked the floor of water deep underground by observing the plants with that faint glow. The oldest demons swear up and down that the lake did not glow like this before, and if it did, certainly not to this extent - but even blaming the goddesses isn’t sufficient to explaining the glow as foreign. Many native plants from both the demon and vampire realms have bioluminescent properties, so why is the soil gaining those properties in certain areas over time strange? Sure, the goddesses have attempted biochemical warfare before, but if that was the case wouldn’t it be . . . effective at causing death? On the contrary, this lakewater has observed nutritional benefits. Except to humans, who claim it’s “radioactive,” whatever that means. 

Death’s Marks:

Hallowed grounds of goddess-wrought devastation from the times they managed to enter the demon realm. Redistributing the Tyrant King’s magical energy back to the Demon Realm itself has gone a long way into restoring much of the native species across war-affected areas, but these spots in particular continue to need special care. Previously the zones cast a dreadful and eerie atmosphere, appearing as if the goddesses sucked what the demons know as life out of it, leaving only the bleached husks of crying, wounded plants. Nowadays, the normally vibrant pink soil bears most of the scars of the offensive magic, now paler than Britannian flowers. Expert trappers have spent decades treating the native animals as best they can, but due to their highly adaptive nature, some specimens’ conditions cannot be reversed. Others stubbornly evade any interaction with demons. Who knows, really, what still lurks in there? Nowadays, flora and fauna are beginning to grow anew in places, and locals are hopeful to one day fully reclaim those areas of nature that haunted them so.

Hope you enjoyed the sneak peak!!! More to come eventually lololol

Omg that sounds fabulous! I love the amount of detail you put into these, it's so cool, Can't wait too see more!. I've tried to find fics about the demon realm having radioactive stuff but I couldn't find any so I'm so glad your doing something! So happy that you're enjoying my art!😊😊 might include some of your ideas in future drawings if that's OK with you?

[zaynesplushiekiller]

idv andrew hc with gender neutral s/o who wants to draw him? :)

aka "dreamsy simps over andrew for an entire fic"!

hope you enjoy (✯ᴗ✯)

andrew with a significant other who wants to draw him

✿✿

"you want to... draw me?"

andrew's voice cracks a bit. his face is bright pink, a contrast to his normally pale white skin.

the scars were less evident when he blushed, they blended in with the soft pink hues of his cheeks. gods, he was so adorable.

"yes, I want to draw you at the red church." if andrew's face can go redder, it does. he tries to cover his face with his hands, but to little avail. you can still see the lovingly curious look hidden behind his eyes.

you reach forward and rest your hands on his, pulling them down from his face. his purple eyes bore into your own, almost as though waiting for you to speak once more.

you take the initiative, motioning to the canvas and supplies in the corner of the room. "come to red church with me, andrew, please?"

he can't ignore the puppy eyes you give him, and with anyone else, he would've put up a fight. but not with you. the overwhelming softness in your voice lead him to following you, far from the safe confines of his bedroom. and into the red church he saw nearly every day.

this time, however, he was not going with an outlook of death. only art.

when you arrive, you ask andrew to sit under the archway of the red carpet. the sun doesn't shine, not in the real world. but in your painting, it certainly does. it shines so brightly so it can illuminate andrew's prettiest features.

his hair and skin, features he normally hides from the outside world, put on display in your painting. the scars he desperately covers- bright and shining in the sunlight you make brighter with every stroke.

and your most favorite feature of all? his smile. you've seen it quite a few times, of course, but you wish to see it all the time, don't you?

when andrew smiles, it's always a perfect occasion; since he doesn't smile very much. he does it more often around you. often, he wonders if you notice how much more he smiles around you. you do.

when the painting is finished, you hesitate to show it to andrew. a thought crosses your mind, 'would he be okay with this?' he's self-conscious of his physical body, and you only wishes to highlight the beauty you saw in it.

"may I?" he's in front of the canvas when you're still deep in thought. you nod.

andrew's quiet for a while, as he studies the painting. a fear bubbles within you- does he hate it?

silence fills the air.

and then andrew turns to face you, and the fear bursts through the surface.

"d-do you not like it?" your voice is barely above a whisper. oh gods, what had you done now?

he pulls you into a tight embrace. so tight you barely realize the fact that he was crying. the tears burned through your shirt.

"thank you," he whispers. "I love you."

[birdstooth]

Parker family crest vs Barnes family crest lmao

Continuation of these doodles. (Not sure if people actually like being tagged lol so I’m just linking the fic…don’t want to be like that constant spam flyer in your inbox 😩)

(Obvi a joke bc PP is too nice to swear and I would never be able to afford the copyrights to what I’m sure is a copyrighted phrase by GRRM)

I was going to make Steve’s crest but this meme already exists so u can look at it instead

Ngl, I think he could prob out jester me and I make a pretty good court jester 🤷‍♀️

[birdstooth]

Skipping around in the chapters a bit, but I had already started drawing this so I wanted to ride the motivation wave to the finish haha

This was super fun to read, I was totally picturing the vibe at those Medieval Times shows, except probably more aggressive and maybe with blood, which makes it better 😃

Oh and when Steve said “I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose.” I was laughing so hard bc out of context that would be some bless your heart Forrest Gump level optimism lmao

Also, this is totally the Parker family crest /jk

Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!��� May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

[cascadena]

Sunset Fireflies

Art and Fic by: Cascadena

(Rated: G; Words: 1385)

“She has been out on the veranda for quite a while now,” said Impa. Her wrinkle-framed eyes glinted in the flicker of the hearth behind her that Paya was cooking our dinner over. “Link, why don’t you go talk to her?”

With effort, I pulled my head away from the wall that I sat against. I had been fighting off the urge to nap ever since I sat down and would lose the battle if I sat for much longer. The Princess went out to Impa’s back porch shortly after our arrival at the Sheikah’s home, and we hadn’t spoken much since Impa’s caravan picked us up from Hyrule Field earlier that day. We were both bruised and littered with cuts, but somehow neither of us had sustained severe injuries. The final roar of Calamity Ganon as Zelda sealed him away still rang in my ears, and I suspected it wouldn’t go away any time soon.

When I pushed open the doors to the rear veranda, Zelda was facing away from me. She leaned over the guardrail, looking down at the trickling stream below. Her golden hair shone in warm hues of the sunset beyond the pine forest surrounding the village. She would stun anyone who would look upon her, despite the stains from a hundred years ago that still muddied her dress.

The Princess snapped her head around before her shoulders relaxed at the sight of me. “Oh, it’s only you, Link.”

“Were you expecting a monster?” I asked as I approached. I intended it as a joke, but the Princess turned away to look over the edge of the porch again, her mouth a hard line.

She groaned. “I’ve only had terrible monsters as my company for the last hundred years,” she mumbled.

I leaned against the guardrail beside her. What a miserable hundred years she had to have witnessed: watching the castle as it was overrun and looted as the fields beyond burned. Not to mention, she’d been holding off Calamity Ganon, the most fearsome beast of the land, the entire time. I’d had a long, lonely journey, but at least I wasn’t under a constant attack for a hundred years straight. “Hopefully my company is more pleasant than that of a monster,” I said.

She looked at me for a second, her brow raised, then returned her gaze over the side of the deck. A frog leapt from a rock and landed in the stream below with a splash. “You know, Link, you seem different,” she said.

My heart sank. I feared Zelda would think I changed a lot after losing and regaining my memories. I looked down at the planks of the deck beneath my boots. Small cracks where the wood had aged littered the edges of a few of them. “I’ve been told that by others I met on my journey who knew me before...” I said.

“It’s understandable. You had a long journey,” said Zelda. Her voice was almost a whisper, as if she could barely get words out. “I am still in disbelief that everything has been accomplished,” she said.

I nodded slowly. “It hasn’t really sunk in for me either.”

She didn’t say anything more for a few minutes. The setting sun slipped behind the cliffside and the light dimmed before she continued. “I could only watch as everything was destroyed,” She said, her voice breaking. “Waves of guardian and monster armies, fueled by calamity ganon, descended upon the land.”

She rubbed her eyes, and I realized she was crying. “Princess…”

“I will never be able to shake the guilt. If… If only I had tried a little harder at Mount Lunayru, maybe it would have awakened in time…” Tears fell down her cheeks. I felt a strange inclination to reach out and hug her, but perhaps she felt I had become too much of a stranger to offer such an act. When she shivered and rubbed her shoulders, I knew I couldn’t just stand idly beside her like the guard I once was to her. I unclasped my Hylian cloak from my shoulders and placed it over Zelda’s without a word.

“Thank you, Link,” she said through a sniffle.

“From what I remember, you worked very hard. You did all you could to save them, and it’s over now. You sealed Ganon away,” I said softly. She nodded, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

“I just… I have no idea how I can bring myself to face this kingdom again after having failed my people…” she said.

We stood for a bit longer in silence as the sun continued to set. A bright green light suddenly blinked from the stream below us and then another flashed in the trees surrounding us. Then another, and another emerged as a bunch of small lights illuminated around us. “Look, sunset fireflies!” I said, pointing them out to the Princess.

“Link… this isn’t the time,” she sniffed.

“Come on, Princess, look!” I said.

Zelda’s looked up at the lights. She frowned. “From the research on them we once did together, I concluded that… they don’t live long,” she said flatly.

I huffed and waved my arm towards the trees. “That doesn’t matter, just look at them! Aren’t they beautiful?”

She looked up again and sighed, giving in to my request to observe them. After a few minutes, her tears stopped. She spoke again. “You’re right, Link, they are beautiful.”

We watched the bugs as they flashed twinkling lights that resembled constellations as darkness completely enveloped the village. It was a spectacular show that always happened in Kakariko on warm, midsummer nights.

The Princess clenched a hand to her chest as she looked up at the trees. “These fireflies… they glow only when the sun sets,” she said. “I believe this may be a sign to us from Hylia. Like the fireflies, our kingdom too can emerge from darkness.”

“Very profound, Princess,” I said. “I hope they inspired you.” She turned and offered a small smile. A wave of relief fell over me with her smile.

As the sky dimmed more, Zelda wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and leaned towards me, her arm grazing against my shoulder. The move might have been subconscious and due to her tiredness, but her touch sent a quick shiver up my side. She was warm now though, and I wanted to lean in to her too.

Whatever moment we were having ended when Paya called to say dinner was ready.

Zelda began towards the door to the inside, but then reached for the clasp of the hood to return it to me. “You can keep that, if you want,” I said, nodding towards her shoulders. “It’s from a shop in Hateno Village.”

She hummed. “It is very nice, though I don’t want to take yours.” She paused, before pivoting around to me and her eyes lit up. “Perhaps I can get my own, and a whole new outfit too. I want to get rid of this old dress and never wear it again. Oh, and I want to get a haircut.”

I laughed. “Whatever you wish, Princess.”

“And you…” Zelda continued, furrowing her brow as she looked over me methodically. It was as if she were inspecting me, and my cheeks unexpectedly started to burn. “You are not dressed for the dangerous, monster infested conditions of Hyrule. That old champion tunic is simply not enough to protect you. You don’t even have proper chainmail. No wonder you fell...”

“Hey, I am old enough to dress myself now,” I said, pointing a finger at her. “I even figured out how to put on pants after I woke up in the shrine of resurrection.”

“Supposedly a hundred and eighteen years still isn’t quite old enough,” she said with a tilt of her head. She bit her lip, only for a moment, then burst into a fit of giggling. I couldn’t help but laugh too.

A second later, her arms were around my shoulders in a hug. “I was wrong. You’re different, but still the same somehow,” said Zelda. “I’ve missed you, Link.”

Her hugs were not numerous in my memories, but her hold still awakened something familiar in my heart as I wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve missed you too, Zelda.”

✨

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Bodies and Betrayals

A/N: I just started a new series called Badlands by Natalie Bennett and it helped inspire this smutty fic. There might be a part 2... 

MASTERLIST 

Angel Reyes x Reader; Ez Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: mention of death, language, smut, oral (f receiving), more smut, grief, reader trying to heal, (gif not mine!)

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

Thunderous claps of lightening boomed in the distance but Y/N didn’t shy away from the desolate graveyard she currently found herself in. His newly minted tombstone held an array of flowers making her feel like he wasn’t quite gone…not just yet. Six feet under the tarnished ground laid an empty casket. His body had yet to be discovered, only large pools of blood inferencing Angel bled to death. She eyed the gray skies circling the bitter clouds as a chill ran through the wispy air. Her heel sunk another half inch into the damp grass.

Nobody prepares you for the loss of a spouse, a partner, your proverbial other half, but here Y/N was standing at a dead man’s grave wondering where it all went wrong. She aced the art of pretending mastering mere illusions for kicks. She became so good that after a while the lines blurred between truth and fiction. And sometimes, when she did an excellent job, she even fooled myself. Life was particularly fucked up most of time.

Guilt chewed away as she gnawed at the inside of her cheek holding back the forlorn tears. Angel was a ghost, a dead man who now resided in her mind alone. Bubbling rage simmered through every ounce of blood in her withered body unknowingly forcing her nails to dig into the palm of her hands. 

The pain was real, something tangible she could taste, feel. In this bitter moment, Y/N knew she would never forgive Angel Reyes for breaking her heart. Too many chances, too many betrayals led her to his exact place. Kneeling eye level with the tombstone, Y/N released her parting words rubbing the cold marble soothingly; “May you now dance in Hell, mi amor.”

Ezekiel watched the widow not daring to offer his comfort or condolences yet admired the wrathful woman who took Y/N’s place. She was fierce and furious, no more the quiet, docile girl he’d met decades ago. The cigarette between his chapped lips burned brightly with every inhale. The burn a welcoming distraction. From her rigid shoulders to her dusty black dress, Y/N appeared hauntingly ethereal. Forever the enchantress.

“How ya holdin’ up?”

“How the fuck do you think, Ezekiel?”

Poisonous venom laced her words at the deceitful question. Ez reached for her but Y/N was faster flinching from his touch. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her cry or scream or show any emotion besides unbridled madness since his brother’s passing.

“He was far from perfect but he didn’t deserve this. Why the hell did we have a funeral without a fucking body? I mean, who does that?”

Concern echoed his demeanor; “Y/N….”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes gleamed up to his glassy caramel orbs finding a moment’s solace. Ezekiel was peace incarnate.

“Who found all the blood?”

His cheeks flared a vibrantly betraying hue. Unwillingness spread through his stiff limbs reluctant to make eye contact.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you fucking do.”

Nervously, Ez scratched the back of his head searching for the easiest letdown. But Y/N’s serene voice broke through the bubble.

“It was her, wasn’t it? Fucking what’s her name…?”

“Nails.”

“Class act that one. Gotta give it to you boys for hiding your secrets so damn well.”

“We’re not all like that.”

Her demeaning stare met his hopeful one; “Aren’t you though?”

A light patter sprinkled the ground signaling the storm fast approaching. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care about anything but being in a overgrown cemetery.

“He stopped loving me a long time ago, Ez. I just didn’t get the memo.”

The truth lingered in the air like a suffocating force causing Ez to act rashly. His arms engulfed her sulky frame noticing how emaciated she was. Protruding cheekbones, slender neck, and how every bone that shouldn’t be visible now was. Her makeup smeared against his suit jacket but still no tears came. So, he held her closer. This time though, she didn’t pull away.

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

The house remained in utter disarray not wanting to waste her depleting time on menial chores when she could instead wallow in self-pity. Unwashed clothes decorated the laundry room she hadn’t entered in weeks. Dust collected on every possible crevice as spoilt food wreaked havoc in the fridge. 

Hell, Y/N couldn’t even recall the last time she showered nonetheless done anything for herself. Even from the grave, Angel troubled her. His mere presence loitered in their once lively home. His kutte still hooked around a kitchen chair like he’d just come home, his favorite beer chilled and stock just like the good ole days.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like it.”

“Maybe you outta try tiding up the place… get your mind off things.”

“What a grand idea, boy genius. I don’t feel like it.”

The whiplash radiating from Y/N was inevitable attacking his every word leaving him bewildered. We all mourn in different ways. Ezekiel just couldn’t figure out her method of madness quite yet.

“You’re not okay.”

“Thanks Captain Obvious.”

“I don’t wanna pry—”

“Then don’t.”

“It’s been three weeks and I still can’t piece together shit. You’re my best friend. We used to tell each other everything.”

“Yeah, past tense. We used to until you started covering up all your brother’s dirty laundry. I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Ahh, finally some fucking clarity.”

“Neither of you deserved me.”

Her poignant honesty hovered catching Ez off guard. Her scolding persisted; “You made a fool outta me. The Reyes brothers for the fucking win. I mean, I’m not perfect nor do I claim to be but all I asked for was the bare minimum and he couldn’t provide. Your friendship was the sacrificial token whether you knew it or not. You already choose sides, E. And I’m not really in a forgiving mood.”

“So, you’re gonna push everyone away and just be miserable, huh? Great plan, kiddo.”

“I wish…”

“What?”

Y/N bit her lip hoping to keep her unguarded emotions confined but slipped.

“Am I a monster for feeling relief? Angel died and I felt like I could finally breathe. How messed up is that?”

The broken, beautiful woman before him searched his shocked face questioning if she’d gone too far. But there was no turning back now…

“No. Your feelings are valid.”

“So many nights I prayed for him to come home to me fully knowing he was fucking some other bitch. I spent eleven years chained to a man who never once appreciated me.

“I didn’t realize—”

“No one did. Because I’m not a quitter. At every challenge, I faced it head-on begging for a solution but he would just push me away, a forgettable forethought. Then when Adelita happened…. I was fucking done. I asked for a divorce and he had the audacity to say ‘over my dead body’. And now I’m supposed to be grieving the loss of my husband when all I can think about is how damn horny I am. God! I haven’t had sex in almost a year and suddenly that’s more distressing than the rest of the shit going on in my life.”

“I didn’t realize Angel was that much of an asshole.”

A side-eye from Y/N unavoidably grabbed his attention.

“You know what I mean. I wish I would’ve known.”

“Me too.”

Stillness aerated the stagnant living room. Y/N chugged her wine polishing off the remainder of the bottle seeking another to fill its place. She mindlessly swayed to the kitchen forgoing the wine for vodka. The repulsive burn was a welcome distraction forcing another large gulp down her throat.  Ez sprang up heading to the kitchen.

“Whoa whoa, slow down champ.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like watching you get your stomach pumped tonight.”

Ezekiel claimed the bottle taking a swig of his own. His face cringed at the awfully bitter taste. Y/N meandered back to the couch plopping down, “You can’t babysit me forever, Ez.”

“Not babysitting if I’m not getting paid.”

Y/N threw a handful of stale popcorn at the handsome Reyes feigning shock. She didn’t recall making any pondering how long it’d been sitting abandoned.

“You’re an ass and I demand you take that back.”

“Make me.”

An unusual sensation overwhelmed Y/N as she catapulted atop Ez knowing exactly where to attack. Ez huffed as the wind got knocked from his lungs falling over. Y/N gazed down at him with innocent playfulness, a fleeting happiness. She continued tickling him as his hands gravitated to her hips pushing her further down on his lap.

“St—Stoppp!!”

Her breath danced along the ridge of his neck before flipping Y/N completely on her back. Her arms now pinned above her head at his mercy.

“Oh, how the tides have changed…”

Their breathing intermingled as her chest rose. Ez conveniently slotted himself between her thighs. Her legs locked around his hips keeping Ez in place. Both quiet embracing the calm before the storm. Her eyes blazed with unspoken passion; Ezekiel’s alit with burning lust. His grip tightened keeping her right where he wanted. With mere inches in between them, Y/N wordlessly begged. For what? That was to be determined.

“We can’t.”

Ez agreed; “We shouldn’t.”

Yet neither left their precarious situation. The tension mounted as Y/N wiggled underneath him. A groan riddled from Ez at the sudden movement. Her shameless eyes pleaded with his, Ez hovered bumping their noses. Y/N closed the gap locking her chapped lips to his. He kissed back like a man possessed grinding against Y/N. 

Teeth clashed and tongues danced as both fought for dominance. With her hands free, Y/N looped her fingers through his hair tugging harshly. Ezekiel playfully bit her bottom lip in response. Seconds morphed to minutes only intensifying the passing mischief.

Marisol raised him better than this, to covet his brother’s wife, his best friend but that didn’t stop him in the slightest. Some twisted root within Y/N ached for Ez while yearning for Angel and their love. Ezekiel’s attention was drawn to the clanging of his belt unbuckling shredding his last bit of resolve. 

Warm fingertips slipped beneath her baggy t-shit, Angel’s old shirt devouring the flesh underneath. He held her when her insecurities were as sharp as a knife and at every moment, they got sharper, he held Y/N even tighter.

She sunk deeper into the depths of her sorrow yet soared at the adrenaline rush. Y/N knew better but her body simply couldn’t resist the temptation, the craving of closeness. As long as it drowned her mounting doubts. Her dead husband painted her closed lids every blink. Her stomach revolted at every turn while a pleasant buzz radiated in her pelvis. Her pelvic muscles spasmed around nothing dying for Ezekiel to take her.  

Whether it was grief and lust pushing, Y/N didn’t care, desperately shoving his pants and boxers down with her feet until the offensive material clung to his ankles. Her hands made quick work of his shirt throwing it somewhere in the distance. She froze admiring Ez in all his naked glory. That damn smirk of his would be the death of her. Guaranteed.

Suddenly, her sweats were yanked off faster than wild fire leaving Y/N bare and vulnerable. Petite kisses trailed down her belly towards her aching core. Ezekiel’s movements were sporadic yet methodically maddening. Her legs spread on their own accord granting him access to her inner sanctuary.

“Please, E….”

This specific day Y/N wasn’t above begging wanting nothing more than to feel alive for a goddamn second. His hands gripped her outer thighs happily divulged into her flower. His tongue dipped between her folds nipping at her glistening bud. Y/N writhed as Ez devoured every last drop of her essence. Y/N spiraled unable to recall the last time she had a man between her thighs blissfully enjoying the ride. She spiraled further from reality losing herself in undeniable desire.

Her mind swarmed of memories of Angel forcing a lone tear to slid down her hollow cheek. Her legs quivered as his thumb pressed deeper on her clit stimulating an entirely different sensation. His tongue slid between her folds slurping at the excess nectar. She uncontrollably wiggled causing Ez’s hand to gravitate to her hips holding her firmly in place. A tiny tingle built in her belly growing fiercer with every passing lick. His ministrations continued not letting up until she exploded.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna cu—cum.”

Her chest heaved as her moans quickened signaling a bittersweet end just on the horizon. Y/N’s hands found his interlocking the fingers glued to her hips. That radiant spark morphed into irresistible fireworks jolting her body awake for the first time in a long time. Auburn orbs locked with Y/N as her orgasm ascended to ungodly ecstasy. 

Her toes cringed as her body slowly came down from its high leaving an overwhelming silence. Guilt immediately crept into her senses blaring an alarm of betrayal. She refused for regret to take ahold basking in the selfish afterglow.

Easily snaking his way between her legs, Ezekiel’s cock prodded her swollen lips. Exactly where she craved him. Her legs instinctively locked around his ass trying anything to get Ez inside.

“Wait.”

He cupped her jaw drawing her attention. The intimacy intensified sucking the air from her lungs.

“What’s wrong, E?”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

His stare was enough to eat her alive; “Just say it and I’m yours.”

His tip slid through her folds before halting all movement.

“I want you, Ezekiel Reyes.”

Ez bottomed out as she gladly accepted every thick inch he offered. Y/N huffed adjusting to Ez’s enormous size. It was fucking heavenly.

“Jesus, E. Warn a girl.”

“Shit, querida. You feel otherworldly.”

“Quit teasing and fucking move please.”

Without warning, his thrusts escalated plunging into her wet pussy hitting that spongy spot that made her eyes roll. Hands traveled down his protruding back muscles grabbing a globe of ass. Y/N desired Ez to consume every morsel of her soul, of her existence until there was nothing but the shell of the girl that used to be. Two bodies glistened in a thin layer of sweat moving seamlessly as one. Skin slapped sinking closer to eternal rapture. Grunts and moans filtered as neither kept quiet.

That minuscule spark grew within her again readying herself for a second euphoria. Ezekiel buried himself in the crook of her neck concentrating on her contracting walls. Her scent, her essence was driving him absolutely crazy. He pulled Y/N to his chest launching her forward. 

His back hit the couch sending Y/N atop his thick thighs. Both paused at the sudden switch of position. Ez was handing over the reins to do whatever she pleased. She excitedly accepted. At first, fer movements were slow, controlled. So right but so wrong. Her walls squeezed around his hardened cock eliciting a salacious mewl from the Mayan.

Once comfortable, Y/N rode like her life depended on it taking him all the way. She threw her head back in pleasure, Ezekiel lips latched to her right nipple sucking delightfully while palming the other. The rise and fall of her hips picked up speed.

“Y/N…”

Barely a whisper escaped; “Me too.”

Y/N screamed shattering to beautiful little pieces as she came with Ezekiel right on her heels. His arms wrapped around her as he erupted losing himself in her consuming heat. Warm spurts shot inside her womb mixing with her own juices. Y/N fell forward colliding with his chest both officially dead weight. With neither willing to move, they stayed in place soaking up the sheer exhilaration.

“Holy fuck.”

“Holy fuck is right.”

His fingers danced along her spine tickling the exposed skin. Soft kisses trailed down Ez’s neck trying to calm her pounding heart. Y/N’s hips swiveled in small circles sending tingles to her tender core. Ezekiel was already at half mast, she persisted. His lips found hers effortlessly locking the searing passion flaming dangerously. The night dragged on indulging in each other’s pleasure without a care in the world and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder…If you can love the wrong one so much, just imagine how much you can love the right one.  

~~~~~

Tags: 

@twistnet  @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @woahitslucyylu  @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @blessedboo  @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @angelreyesgirl89 @cocotheclown @trulysuccubus @janeexo @soaronmywings  @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @hermankopusortizorsumshite @fvckthisbxtchup @noz4a2 @blowmymbackout @leathercladmenfics​  @-im-fantastic-   @bellisperennis0  @cassandras-nest @drabbles-mc​   @est1887​  @petlaufeyson​ @pearlkitten33​ @amorestevens​ @colereads​

[bonny-kookoo]

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

[zeenmrala]

By The Light Of The Second Moon

A Darth Maul x F/AFAB!Reader Fanfiction

chapter nine: life in the dark, it’s who you are

{previous chapter} / {next chapter} / {fic masterlist}

{read chapter on ao3} / {read entire fic on ao3}

CHAPTER SUMMARY: An experience, a disagreement, escapism and acceptance. RATING: Explicit. This work is strictly for those 18+ due to sexual content. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. WORD COUNT: 7.5k CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: This chapter is quite intense. Angst, anxiety concerning family, the loss of a parent/family member, arguing, shouting, Maul being mean, implied threat. Smut, breast play, fingering, male!receiving oral sex, PiV sex. CHAPTER SONGS: hardest of hearts, florence + the machine. buy the stars, marina. A/N: The wonderful @elledjarin created this work of art that once I saw, I just could not get out of my head - and so it inspired a paragraph of this chapter. Check out her art! She’s amazing!

Chapter 9 Life In The Dark, It’s Who You Are

The vision immediately roars to life, though you feel it before you see it. It bursts into existence by tugging on your veins, ripping through your nerves hard, and you know that it should hurt…but somehow it does not, and though it is dark, you can still see without seeing. It appears that wherever or whenever you are, nothing here is logical. You can feel the air of a long-ago evening cool your skin, the rain that pours from the sky drenches your hair, drips down your body. It is heavy and cold, and as you automatically try to gasp for breath, you find that you cannot use your lungs. Though you still somehow inhale the petrichor of the night, but without breathing. It does not make sense, but you absorb your surroundings, you drink them in greedily like a sponge without even trying. You then begin to hear things, mutterings, birdsong, the clamour of thunder, and then the recognisable sound of that starship. It is the one you heard before, from that day, exactly one galactic standard year ago. Even though you were never there, and that there is no possible way for you to remember it – you still vividly recall and identify it.

What? It is strange, because you somehow know that they are back, as they promised that they would be. But you do not know who they are. Puzzled, you try to spin around, though you lean on nothing, you have zero leverage, and your energy does not come from anywhere physical. But as you attempt to do so, your sight awakens and the vision swims to life in even more terrifying detail. There is suddenly so much light, and you can really see it. It is a hazy, blue shroud of glowing luminesce, and as it washes over you, you feel the brief sting of comfort. It has that familiar beaming hue of the second moon, you recognise, and it envelops you in a disjointed sense of safety. When your eyes adjust to it, you very clearly see a large spaceship and a tall man robed in brown.

He stands beside your Mother.

It is the first time you have seen her since she disappeared. It surprises you how much you have misremembered her, because at first you almost do not recognise her. But kriff, you think, she does look like you. You start to cry because you love her so much, but it isn’t a kind of love that you understand. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a painful, intense panic – you are dismayed at the sight of her with this man again.

Again? Before you can even begin to process your confusion, the image swirls and contorts, and you are then thrust into a room that looks like the surgery, except it is different. “What is- ” you begin say, though you are not able to vocalise the words, your lips try to move but nothing comes out. Any movement you make does not register with your body or the images around you, any noise you try to produce goes fully unheard. But you are still absorbing everything in your vicinity, the image of now two strangers – but strangers that you know – as they stand before you, your Mother listening intently as they speak. You cannot fathom their words, yet you can identify the meaning of the entire conversation. The vision fractures, like a crack snapping through a block of ice, and then there is a child, a broken promise, a frightening, all-consuming loss. Oh, there is pain – it is so lucid and pure, a woman is destroyed and she drowns in her grief. Your blood thunders to your ears, and the blanket of cold that is pulled tight beneath your skin melts into heat – but not a comforting kind of heat, not the warmth of a bed long slept in, not the relieving cinders of an open fire – but an angry heat. The fresh heat that pours from your body as you bleed to death, the fierce fury of an ancient, burning sun. The image bleeds around you again, and then through you. It penetrates into your bloodstream, buries itself into the marrow of your bones. The story it tells blasts its way through your veins in the same way that a meteor rips through the atmosphere, and you breathe it in and out without breathing, over and over again. As your heart pumps the dream-like image to each fibre of your being, as it digs into your brain like a desperate parasite, you try to scream. The hazy vision muffles everything, but you consume it in its entirety, not understanding anything, yet fully comprehending it all.

Beneath all of this chaos, there is one, stubborn word that is branded into every sense you possess. It haunts every cell of your being, every atom of the world around you, it snakes into the web of time that is your existence. It decays only to bloom again, in an everlasting cycle of life and death. Just one nonsensical word, a word that means absolutely nothing to you, but when you try to form it in your mouth, the taste is bitter and you want to violently spit it out. One word.

Jedi.

--

When you flutter open your eyes, you see him. For a perfect second, you feel nothing and you know nothing, except for the comforting sight of his unique silhouette. He is sat with his legs crossed, his back to you. He is shirtless, and perfectly still. You take in the toned muscles of his back, his stark crimson skin that is decorated so splendidly with the thick black lines of his tattoos. You look up at the perfect curve of his horns and the dark skin of his head that they so elegantly emerge from. Stars, the artistry of his physical form, the mystifying nature of his dark aura – him, in this moment, he is everything you can fathom, the only part of this life that you can truly understand. In this moment, he is simply everything.

That moment ends as you take a breath, and he stirs. As you breathe, your immediate thought is gratitude at being returned to the normality of your usual senses. You slowly sit up, and run your hands over your legs, feeling your physical form. You thank the Stars for the gravity that roots your body to the ground. You look around and you are not in your brother’s house, but back in Maul’s starship, on the cot you slept in together.

Stars and Planets, what just happened?

You feel his eyes then, as he stands up and turns around to look down on you, stoic as ever, arms behind his back. His expression does not change, and he gives no indication of what he could be thinking or what he is feeling. He says nothing.

Then it hits you, the weight of the truth. The understanding that you somehow gleaned from such a strange, out of body experience. How you now know, without fully seeing, that what happened to your Mother was indeed traumatic for your family. That what happened was more complex than you could have ever imagined, bigger than your own bones, that it goes far beyond your small planet and your tiny life here. That though she may be dead, she did not die here – she disappeared. She did not take your cousin, she did not do anything to hurt her. Whatever happened to your cousin, wherever she went – it was because of the robed man. The Jedi person, not your Mother. The relief of finally knowing that is astronomical.

But yet, there is something wrong. Something more.

Though she was not the one who did it, you know that she did have something to do with it. Something…You cannot seem to piece together the events, your brain simply cannot make sense of it. The way that you found out…

Well, that was the most ridiculous, terrifying experience of your life.

“Stars,” is all that you can say for a moment. Then, “Maul, why was that so - so jarring? Why was it – why was it like that?” You are slightly lost for words. “Why would you not just tell me what happened? Why did you need to…”

He sighs. “It is complicated,” he says. Then a bit colder, “you told me that you would not ask. That you would not talk about it.”

But when he senses the strength of the confusion that rakes your mind, when he sees that deep frown on your features, he sighs. Then he closes his eyes, and with clear reluctance he briefly explains.

“In simple terms, it is because they are the memories of your Father, from many years ago.”

He then pauses to gauge your reaction.

He went to see your Father. Your blood thaws into ice as you try to understand the implication of such a thing. Before you can react, he continues his explanation.

“I saw the memories that form the truth, and I essentially copied them from his mind. Then I passed them on to you. But you received them through me, and I received them from him, so they are slightly…tainted. A lot of clarity stripped away.”

There is silence for a few heartbeats.

“But the reality remains,” he adds softly.

“You went to see him. My Father.” He must have – he must have. To somehow take the memories from his head, then give them to you.

He says, “yes.”

“You…went into his head.”

He answers somewhat defensively. “I thought you wanted to know? To remember?”

“Of course I do.” You say it resolutely, then you touch your forehead, which throbs. “Of course I do,” you reiterate, softer. “But why did you need to…?”

“This is the raw truth. You saw what he saw. This way, you know it exactly as it happened. It is the least that yo – ” he swiftly cuts himself off.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again, glaring at you with his weighty gaze. You know him enough to understand that he will not finish his sentence now, that he will not speak again until you do. So you begin to ask the questions that are bleating incessantly in your mind, all of your questions that are so desperate to be answered.

“W-what did I see? Who was that person? I feel like I do understand it but also like I still know nothing.”

You groan, the heels of your hands now pressing into your eyes.

“How does everything make sense yet nothing is coherent? It is as though I have the full reality, the truth displayed as a wall of text in front of me. That it is finally right here for me to understand, but…it is in a foreign language, and no matter how I try to view it I just…can’t. It is so frustrating.”

You groan, standing up to be on the same level as him.

“And what in the Universe is a Jedi? I think I have heard that before…Again, I feel like I know what that is but also –”

“A Jedi is the reason for all of this.” He cuts you off, and there is a profound severity to each of his words. “A Jedi took your cousin as a child. Your Aunt was distraught, and your Mother, who could not stand the sight of her sister in such distress, wanted to find her daughter for her, to bring her back. So she left.” “And we never heard from her again,” you finish. You squeeze your eyes closed. Something clicks into place and yes, you know that that is true, you felt it from your Father’s memory. The robed man – men you correct yourself – there was another one in that image of the surgery – they are the Jedi. Jedi…

Something feels off, unfinished. “Is it all really that simple?”

He does not falter from his sternness. “How is any of that simple?” he asks. “You agreed to no words. Why are we still talking out loud about this?”

He stands there steely and firm, and there is a grimness to his distinctive features. It is as though this whole situation is displeasing to him, as if he cannot make sense of how you are reacting to this revelation, as if he is trying to figure you out himself.

“This is such madness,” you continue, ignoring him and speaking anyway. This is all so much. How could he expect you to not talk about this? “I know what happened. I know that what you just said is true but it is also not.”

You begin to pace.

“And now I just have more questions. I want to know why and how. Who are the Jedi? Why would they take my cousin? And why…why would these events need to be kept from me? What would stop my family from telling me this? Why can’t I know this?”

You wrap your arms around your own head – your brain feels like it is on fire, and now you have started talking, started asking, you cannot stop.

“There has to be more to it than just that. Why did I – I mean, why did my Father recognise the Jedi man? He had returned, he had been here before. I knew that it had been a year, exactly a year since he had last seen them. It was raining, I could see the light of our moon – of the second moon, I mean. Why would they come back? What could have possibly happened? And my Mother, she-”

He cuts you off again. “I believe it is this exact reason that they never told you anything.” He says, somewhat spitefully, “you are relentless.”

Stars. That rude, blunt and growingly consistent way of interrupting you is starting to get annoying. You look at him in disbelief. “Why do you say that like it is a bad thing?”

“Because maybe it is.”

You physically recoil in confusion, shaking your head. “Wait, what?”

“Why can’t you just accept it for what it is? I showed you the truth, is that not what you wanted? You need to stop talking.”

You are almost bewildered into silence. Almost. Instead, you lash out. You reply with a bite to your voice, reacting instinctively to the unfairness of what he is asking.

“Just accept it? Accept what, exactly? This is not the truth. Not the whole truth. I had a question, and as always you have only answered it with more questions. You want me to have the truth, and then you do not. I can know some things, but I cannot talk about them or ask anything of it. And then you expect me to just accept something that does not yet make sense.”

“But you know that she left to find your cousin after she was taken, that is the truth” he says.

“Yes, but there is something more to it than that –” you hesitate briefly, “do you really think me stupid enough to not realise that? Because you are certainly not stupid enough to miss it.”

He looks taken aback. “You know now that she is not the villain. You know that they are. You do not need to live in her shadow anymore. Is that not enough?”

“No? Of course not!” You stutter, in disbelief. “Do you not know me by now? Of course that is not enough.”

“But you are always so able to accept things. You...” he stops. “You trust me.”

“Yes, yes I do,” you confirm. “But you are making it much more difficult for me now. You have never told me why I cannot talk about these things. You do not explain. And it all mounts up, all my questions, all my worries and my ignorance. And it is just so much.”

You stop pacing with a dejected sigh, and all of your frustrations peak.

“Then you tease me with scraps of information, and it is like you are promising me more, but I know that you never intend to give me more. It is like you want two things that cannot possibly exist at the same time. You try to make me understand but you know that I will never be able to. You want me to know but I cannot know.”

He does not say anything, but he looks more and more cross with each moment that passes.

“Am I correct? Is that how it is? Because I never know if I am right. I always have to figure out everything on my own with the clues you leave me.”

“It is both – both. I do want you to know but you cannot know. They can exist at the same time.”

“No, that is not fair, they can’t. It cannot be both. I cannot be fed half-truths and be expected to believe something fully when there are pieces missing. You are only confusing me further.”

He sounds angry when he replies. “I found out what happened to your Mother, and I have shown you – and at great personal risk. How is that not clear to you? Why do you look so…perplexed by it?”

You stutter, “Great personal risk?  W-What does that even mean? It is like you speak in riddles. You expect me to know what you are saying with no context, because you never explain things properly and I swear, you talk utter nonsense half of the time.”

“You are the one that talks nonsense. Childish, naïve, ignorant drivel. I do not know why I even risked this. This is pointless,” he spits callously.

Childish, naïve, ignorant.

You start to feel the upset from the sting of such words. Your confusion utterly peaks – you are physically and emotionally stressed – you do not even know what time it is, what day it is. Your head burns. It all begins to become too much, nothing makes sense to you – the memory-vision, your reaction to it, and his reaction to you. Why in the galaxy is he acting like this?

“Maul, it might be easy for you to make sense of this situation…” you try to say, but find you cannot seem to properly voice it. “It is not that way for me. What I saw – what you showed me, I cannot fully grasp it. I can’t…I cannot seem to understand why it is so difficult for you to understand that I have questions. That I want to…you just –  you don’t understand.”

“No, pathetic, foolish girl – it is you who does not understand. You do not understand anything,” he says. “You know absolutely nothing."

“Yes,” you agree with him, though you are hurt by his name-calling, and vexed by this irascible side of him. “Yes, exactly, I don’t understand. That is the problem. I never do. And apparently, I never can.”

You sigh, the sheer enormity of what is happening, what has happened – it now crushes you. The weight of it threatens to squeeze reluctant tears from your eyes, though you blink them back stubbornly.

“I do not appreciate the way that you are speaking to me,” you quickly add, your voice meek and shaken. “We can disagree without you resorting to words you know will wound me.”

It is all suddenly so much. That Maul sought out your Father, looked into and stole from his mind. That somehow, he was able to allow you to experience your Father’s memories, in the most disconcerting and odd way. That he has become so furious so quickly. That he is being so short with you, his tongue brutal, so sharp. The cruel depth of his words, how they rattle your insecurities - they now settle uneasily in your chest.

He is cold and unmoving. His eyes find yours, and you stand for a while, just looking at each other. His fists are clenched at his sides, and though his frame is solid, he appears ready to pounce at any moment. It reminds you of the night he was watching you in the trees, perched up so high, so effortless. Like a predator in wait. Prepared. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, then your eyes glaze across his strong arms, down to his hands. You feel a pang in your chest, a sore, horrid ache – because you know how gentle his hands can be, what sweet things he can speak, how attentive his tongue has been to you. You can even feel the softness of his lips on yours, his gentle fingers caressing your skin, so familiar to you now. And yet – at the same time, that he was ever tender or tame towards you, it seems so unrecognisable in this moment, now that the viscousness of his words ring in your ears.

You bring your line of sight back to his face. His expression looks so pained, his yellow eyes so forlorn as he bores them into yours.

Stars.

In spite of his cruelty, even though you know he is purposefully trying to hurt you, that he is manipulating your insecurities again – you realise that all you want is to just hold him. Comfort him. All you want is to lace your fingers around his horns, and kiss his terrible, spiteful mouth.

You can only sigh. You refuse to look away from him as you speak.

“I do not know how it works, of course – but whatever you tried to put into my head, it did not translate well.”

His eyes cast towards to the floor, breaking your eye contact. You keep talking.

“How could you ever expect me to take kindly to such a thing in the first place? That vision, the memory - it was not only strange, but frightening. You did not warn me of the nature of it. You expect me to not be rattled by it? To not want to talk to you about it? And Maul, you went to see my Father without telling me – without even asking me first?”

You shake your head and close your eyes. You hear him groan, and when you return to looking at him, you are greeted by the sight of him flustered.  

“I just thought this would be,” he hesitates, “I thought this would be easier,” he admits.

“Easier? This is difficult for you?”

“Yes!” he shouts, raising his voice at you for the first time. Though he says it loudly, you do not flinch. There are a few moments of silence that follow his small outburst, and this kind of quiet, the kind that follows a loud noise – it is utterly deafening.

“Yes, this is difficult for me,” he eventually says, much calmer. Then he turns away from you.

Another pause.

“Okay,” you say, “okay.”

“I do not want to…” He groans. “I do not want to say anything else.”

“Why?”

“Because what I say always…it hurts you. It lingers and festers in your mind. I know it does.”

You pause. “And you do not want to hurt me?”

“Sometimes I do want to hurt you,” he confesses. “I do.”

You feel an uncomfortable, worrying dropping sensation in your stomach.

“But now? No,” he says, crestfallen. “No. No, I do not want to hurt you,” he concedes.

“Then why – why do you say such cruel things, seemingly out of nowhere? You are so quick to weaponise what you know pains me. You do it knowingly. Because you can see inside my head, you know how to strike true. Stars, it is like it is an instinct for you.”

He does not disagree with you.

And then you realise that you have just answered your own question. Why does he say such things? It is so obvious to you now. Malice is second nature to him. The pain in his eyes. His strange hesitation, the opposing sides of him, how you both misunderstand each other so frequently. This is who he is.

It suddenly makes you incredibly sad.

You return to the cot, and fold your body into yourself. You take a moment of quiet to try to process all of the revelations of the day, or night – or whatever timeframe it is or has been. You do not even know.

The next few minutes pass in total silence. Then you hear him move, and he settles beside you.

“We are clearly much too different,” you eventually say, quietly. You do not even mean to say it out loud – not that it matters, you try and reassure yourself. He can take whatever he wants from your head, whenever he wants. “For what?” he says, then softer, “what are you implying?”

You regret it almost immediately. Because you do not know. You have absolutely no idea, and that is the worst part. You do not know why you said it. You do not know what you are trying to suggest with it. And by the Planets, you do not want to find out. You are not ready to find out.

So you take a page from his book, and answer his question with one of your own, to derail the conversation.

“What you said, before you did whatever it was that you did to me. You said there was a reason we were brought together.”

“Yes,” he says. “I still believe that.”

You pull your arms away from your face to look at him. “I do not understand that either.”

“I want to explain, but –”

Now you cut him off. “This is beyond frustrating. You are beyond frustrating,” you say.

He only nods.

“Why would these Jedi people take my cousin?”

He sighs, and he suddenly looks incredibly overwhelmed. “I do not know.”

“What – that’s a lie.” You accuse him, and he does not deny it. “Why are you lying to me now?”

He shakes his head. “I wish you would stop asking questions.”

“I wish you would just answer them.”

You sit beside each other in silence for a moment.

“They came back,” he says. “What?”

“That other ship. The ship that you have always been so curious about and fond off…” he curses and huffs. “It was them. Jedi. Truthfully, I do not know the nature of their returning here. But considering how small a population there is here, how far into the outer rim your planet lies, I cannot imagine that it did not have anything to do with you and your family.”

“No one has come to the surgery, though,” you reply.

“Yes. I know.” Then he adds, “I made sure of that.”

What?

 “Maul, what does that mean?”

He groans your name and takes your shoulders in his hands, turning you towards him.

“Stop talking. Do not ask such questions.”

“W-Why? I am just replying to what you say!”

“Because I cannot tell you. I cannot. You are making this all so much more difficult that it needs to be.”

“Me? I am making it more difficult?” Stars, this conversation is impossible. He is impossible. “Why do you say things like that? You say things that are so loaded, then you just expect me to drop it? Why does everything feel so - so dangerous with you?”

“Lady…” “Who are you?” you ask quietly. “Really?”

“Stop,” he says.

“Why are you here?”

“Quiet,” he demands.

“Why are you involving yourself in my life like this?” “Silence...”

“How do you – how can you know what I am thinking?” He shakes his head. “Why are you here? Why do you…” You begin to softly cry.

His hands find their way to your face. “Enough,” he whispers. “Who are you?”

“Stop asking me these things.”

Everything feels as though it collapses in on itself. The weight of so much trauma, of so much pain, it finally caves in and crashes down on you in a chaotic, agonising turmoil – and you sob. Your family, your history, the dark implications of what happened, what is yet to happen, all that you understand and especially, all that you do not. Him. Him and his kindness, his hypocrisy, his mystery, his cruelty – how you care for him in spite of it, all of it. All of it hurts.

It all suddenly hurts so much.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you lament.

He whispers your name.

You cry and cry.

“I cannot stand to hear you anymore,” he pleads.

“Then stop me,” you say. “Silence me, please.”

So he does.

He kisses you. And it is so desperate, both protective and possessive, and you immediately lose yourself in the comforting familiarity of this feeling. You kiss him back messily, your cheeks still so wet with tears.

You whimper into his mouth. He pulls you on top of him, one of his hands fists your hair, his other is already pulling at your dress. He kisses you harder, and you melt into his lips, as you always do when he kisses you in this way. Everything else fades away, it all bleeds into nothingness – until it is only you and him left. Just the two of you, connected with such lust and pain and longing.

You seize him with your hands. They coast their way up to his head, your fingers between his horns. You moan at his strong, anchoring touch – and as he works to quickly free you from your clothing, you put your weight and the entirety of your anguish into his lips. You pour everything you feel into the frantic, all-consuming kiss. “Please,” you beg, sliding your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he tastes you, and then he finally pulls away your clothing, throwing it aside. Naked now, you press into his warm, solid chest. You lock your legs around his waist, your hips grind down on to him, your body yearns for him. You crave him in the way that you know him the best, the way that you both fit so perfectly together, the way that makes everything feel right again.

Your desire heightens, and your hands are now exploring his chest, his shoulders and arms. His hips buck up into you, the erratic nature of the movement evidence of his own longing. You rock your body downwards, and then you can feel him, you feel the firm press of the hardness of his cock – and you crave it, you crave it so badly that it hurts. His kiss slows, his tongue languid, lips now gentle against your own. Yet his arms are still solid around you, and he holds on to you in his strangely comforting, domineering way. In the way that makes you feel treasured, so very secure. Kriff – you now crave the rough harshness of his sex, but you also want the softness of his lips, you need the cruel sting of his words and the soft ache from his candid, surprising kindness.

Stars, you crave all of him. Every confusing, contrasting part of him.

He frees his lips from yours to trail his kisses down your face, your jaw and to your throat, grazing his tongue and his teeth over your skin. His mouth then moves lower, over your collar bone, your chest, until he finds your breasts. He is kissing and licking them, and you lean into the touch, enjoying it – but his hands are now lowering you to the cot beneath him. His mouth laps at your skin with gentle kisses, broken with the harsh prick of his teeth as he bites you over and over again. It feels so good, so right. Like everything has fallen back into place, and nothing else matters at all – nothing but the wet flick of his tongue and the electric sting of his teeth.

Soon he has spread your legs, and his fingers dip inside of you. Your entrance is already so slick for him, but with each movement you become wetter and wetter. He fucks you with his fingers, deeper and deeper each time, and you grind down onto him, needing that sweet intrusion to be drummed into you, over and over. You need more. You always need more. Sometimes it feels as though nothing will ever be enough.

“Wicked girl,” he mutters into the skin of your neck, and your whole body keens at the richness of his voice. Your being shudders beneath those two words, and they rekindle your lust, reawakening your desires once again. More, you think, I just need more.

Your hands graze down his chest to the waistline of his pants. You claw at them to free his cock from the material, needing to hold him, kiss him, take him. He growls, his fingers gently leaving your cunt, so that you can sit up and shower his chest in hot kisses.

You strip him naked. He is now on his knees, and you lower your mouth to him, lying stomach-down. You hold his strong hips in your hands, then slide them lower to his thighs. You take the shaft of his cock into your mouth, lapping your tongue at the tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum. Then you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you encourage the length of him further into your throat. Your head bobs up and down, and you moan needily around him. He curses, his hands holding on to the back of your head, his fingers tightening into your hair as you work him. You savour his taste, you relish in how taking him in this way feels so good, the way that you can feel him slowly unravelling, in how the strength of his grasp on you fluctuates with each movement that you make.

He surrenders to your mouth, and for a while he completely gives in, succumbing to your hot, wet throat. But then he opens his eyes, and when he looks down at you, he cannot stand it anymore, and he becomes entirely overcome with his own desires for you and your body. He just wants to take you in the way that he always does, in the way that he knows he can. And by the Force, he wants to fix all that he has broken. He wants to heal how he has wounded you with his twisted attempts of affection – he wants to, but it does not matter. Because he cannot. He does not know how he can make it right, as there is no way that he ever could. For it is impossible.

But – he does know how to make you feel good. So he will. And more selfishly, he needs you beneath him, he needs to see you writhe in desperation. Because he loves to watch you want him. It feels good for him too.

So he pulls you up and into his arms, and then gently lays you beneath him. He pushes his way back between your thighs. You hook your legs around his, encouraging him forward, arching your cunt up closer, needing him inside of you. You mewl and beg for him as he teases himself against your warmth, and as the tip of his cock presses into your entrance you cry out at the pleasure of it, and he groans a primal growl, and sheathes himself inside of you.

It is dizzying, and it is good, but the quickness of taking him so fully hurts at first, and you hiss, grasping tightly on to his arms.

He stops. “Are you okay?” He asks. He pulls back and out of you, and as you look up at him you catch a flash of concern in his eyes.

“Wait, don’t go. Please stay. Stay,” you affirm, and he pauses, doing as you say.

“Yes, yes I am okay,” you continue and he kisses the top of your head fondly. The softness of the gesture makes your heart flutter.

“You feel good, Maul,” you say. A soft giggle falls from your lips, “I am just slightly sore from before…”

He smirks and kisses your temple, “Mmm,” he hums. “Have you finally had your fill?”

“Oh no,” you say. “No-where near. Never.”

He mouths the word “wicked,” then takes your lips back in his. You shift, adjusting to the feel of his cock being inside of you again. He kisses you, over and over, his hands cradling your face, your neck, your shoulders. Then you are ready, and you ask him to fuck you. And so he does, he begins a sweet rhythm that rocks you into the familiar, blissful pleasure of his body. You coo soft moans of gratification, the rock of his hips and the heavenly depth of his cock inside of you a comforting melody. He is sighing his own silky moans into your ear, his mouth kissing at your lobe, his palms warm on your face.  

You do not know how long you are both wrapped up in each other like this. You do not know the time, or the day, or even where you are beyond the walls of his ship. But it does not matter. Because nothing else matters in this moment, nothing but him. The warm tickle of his breath, the huskiness of his groans, the featherlight touch of his fingers that trail down your chest, the firmness of him as he penetrates you over and over again. It is all so dreamy, so wonderful. You hold his head and bring his eyes to yours, searching them, to see if you can catch a glimpse of how he is feeling, to see what he is experiencing in them.

He smiles back at you, and it is such a delightful view, that you cannot help but beam at him. He appears utterly content, and seeing such a delicate expression on his harsh features spreads a warmth across your chest. He grabs your leg and hitches you forward, then you both groan as he slips himself in deeper, until he is in to the hilt. He catches your lips in a swift kiss, and then his pace quickens – and he begins to fuck you harder and faster. It is so good, and so intoxicating and consuming, that when you feel the hot caress of your orgasm engulf your nerves – Stars, it is so sudden and mind-blowing that you think you may pass out. Your walls clamp down onto his cock as you cum on him, and then his rhythm stutters, and he curses, groaning your name. “Oh, wicked girl,” he whines, “you are exquisite.” He fucks you through your climax, until each thrust becomes less controlled, each moan that falls from his lips is more and more frenzied. Then he groans a final, wild growl when he reaches his own peak - he cums inside of you, with your legs wound tightly around him, his strong arms embracing you, his lips on yours. He holds you steady in his arms until long after he has finished.

You both pant, and you can feel his hearts race wildly beneath his chest, and your own heart is beating so hard that you can almost hear it. He gently removes himself from you, then pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around you from behind. The warmth of his strong body behind you and the sound of his rapid breaths which gradually slow, combined with the sweet buzz of the aftershock of your climax – it makes you instantly relax. You feel so safe. After the turbulence of the memory-vision, after such a dramatic and emotional conversation, and after the physical satisfaction from your sex, you are already so exhausted. You feel the pull of sleep, and though you are reluctant to give in to it so soon, you do. You drift into dozing, until you eventually fall into a light sleep.

And you do not dream at all.

You do not really have time. Because soon he wakes you up, and says he has something to show you. Confused and your body weakened from the events of the past few hours, you allow him to pull you up and you dress yourself. He then drapes one of his robes across your shoulders, and you welcome the warmth of it. You also grin to yourself at the way it smells like him.

And now that you are both dressed – he takes your wrist in his hand and leads you out of the ship.

Stars and Planets.

You are immediately breathless and speechless – completely stunned at the sight before you.

The ship is not where it was when you last saw it. It has been moved, on to the top of something incredibly high – a mountain. You are on a mountain so far away from home that you have never even seen it before, not from your window, not from the trees. You are on your planet, but you are somewhere that you do not recognise. For the first time in years, you take in a view that you have never seen before. You look upon a landscape that you have not committed to memory, a landscape that you have never committed to paper.

You look down, and notice that you are above the clouds, above the rain and the storms. And then you look up, and you see it. The second moon, blue and brilliant, it shines unobscured in the sky, drenching the two of you in that cool, comforting light.

“Stars, where, where are we?” You ask, and he smirks, raising a finger to his lips.

“How long was I out? How long were we…”

He hushes you. “Don’t think about anything. Just look,” he says leading you to the edge of the cliff face that you stand upon.

“Woah,” you say apprehensively as you look down, your stomach flipping. “I haven’t ever been this high up before…” He then holds on to your arm tighter, and your lips tug into a smile.

Your eyes return to the sky. “And I have never seen the second moon so clearly.”

“Our moon,” he says, smirking at how you automatically cringe as he says it.

Your cheeks burn. “Oh. You noticed when I said that.”

“Of course,” he replies.

“This – this is beautiful. But the moon is up, so it has been more than a rotation since we left – I have been away too long, I need to go back, I need to…fix all of what has happened, I need to sort this out. Take me back.”

“Shhh,” he hushes you. “No. Not now. Not tonight.” “But I have to –”

“No. Stay with me.”

You shut your eyes. How can you deny him? And even more than that – how can you deny yourself? Deny yourself this view, deny yourself more of him. After everything that has happened, after all the confusion and the turmoil that burns inside of you – how can you deny yourself the brief and beautiful relief of such a glorious night?

So you nod, and he sits down. After a while, he looks up at you in curiosity as to why you haven’t joined him. But you are frozen, both stunned and terribly nervous at being so close to the edge of such a tall drop. He smirks, clearly amused at your reaction. He jumps back up to his feet, entirely effortless. He is seemingly unphased with being at such a height, just like he was in the trees. Lithe and graceful with his movements, no matter where he is. Like he is invincible.

He takes your hand and helps lower you down, and then you both sit with your legs over the edge. It takes a long stretch of minutes before you stop shaking from the frightening shock of being so high up and so close to the edge. But you eventually grow more comfortable, though you clasp on to Maul’s arm very tightly. You drink in the view, and it is so remarkable you are almost unable to breathe.

“I want to -” he begins, breaking the silence.

You hush him. “No,” you say. “Stop.” You take a long breath, and shake your head. “We said what we needed to say. It is done. Let us just move on. I am not going to think about anything else until the morning.”

And so you sit together for hours, on the edge of a mountain, looking out onto a planet that you believed you had grown tired of. How wrong you were about this place. As you look down on the thick sheets of cloud that glow a deep purple with streaks of lightening, as you catch sight of the large, wild oceans that frame the land, as you gaze across a vast, unending spread of beauty - you feel entirely stupid to have believed that you were sick of the sight of your home-world.

How naïve and ignorant indeed.

You feel him shift slightly as he senses your thoughts, senses the result of his cruel words, how they have lingered within you. How, deep down, they have haunted you since that very first conversation.

Because of who you are, they will always stay with you. Because of who he is, you know that he will speak them again and again and again.

You do not talk, but you squeeze his hand.

It’s who you are, you think. It’s just who you are.

--

{previous chapter} / {next chapter} / {fic masterlist}

{read chapter on ao3} / {read entire fic on ao3}