#i was going to add a couple of locks to the bridge but i ran out of time lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cyraclove · 4 years ago

Note

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” with modern BotW Zelink would be amazing :') (you can choose who gets hit and who visits! it works very well both ways)

Link stared into the windows of the flower display, his eyes traversing the plethora of multicolored blooms for the hundredth time. He’d been standing there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, the tinny muzak of the hospital’s gift shop threatening to drive him out of his mind. The furled petals of a bouquet of yellow roses shook softly as the refrigerated case’s motor kicked on, looking almost as though they were laughing at him.

He decided against those.

Swallowing hard, he absentmindedly rubbed his palms together as he took stock of his ribbon-bound options yet again.

Sweaty. Why was he so sweaty?

Just pick some, you idiot, barked a voice in his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a foreign female voice that startled him from his thoughts, “Do you need some help?”

He turned to see an older, brunette woman with the roundest eyeglasses he had ever seen smiling pleasantly at him, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘Alma’, her nametag read.

He shook his head, scrambling for words. “Oh, uh…no, ma’am,” he stammered, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile, “I’m just…browsing.”

“Are you looking for something specific?” She asked, peering into the cooler. “We have flowers for just about any occasion. Flowers can say a lot just on their own, you know.”

How about some that say, ‘Sorry that I hit you with my car, complete stranger,’ he thought to himself. Link chuckled uncomfortably, knowing that he was definitely going to have to lie to this woman. “I’m here to visit my, er, friend. She was…in a car accident.”

Read on AO3

Alma nodded solemnly, clucking her tongue. “Oh, how terrible. I’m very sorry to hear that. People really can be such careless drivers these days, can’t they?”

“Yes,” he said through his teeth, “they certainly can be.” His eyes were drawn to a bunch of sickeningly pink ‘It’s A Girl!’ balloons, a nearby oscillating fan causing them to bob violently every minute or so. The screech of the colliding mylar made his stomach churn, and he silently wished for death.

“Well,” Alma began, a cool burst of air escaping the display when she opened the door, “I’m sure that we can pick something perfectly lovely that’ll have your friend feeling better in no time.”

The woman pursed her lips as she surveyed the case, humming thoughtfully. She eventually gathered up a bouquet of light blue lilies, their pointed petals tipped with white.

“What do you think of these?” she asked, “We just got them in from Necluda. This variety is called the ‘Silent Princess’, I believe.”

Before he could answer, Link’s phone began to ring, the shrill tone making him jump a bit. He grinned sheepishly at Alma as he fished it from his pocket, groaning inwardly as soon as he glimpsed the screen. Tapping his thumb on the red ‘ignore’ button, he tucked it away.

“Those are great,” he replied, “I’ll take them.”

Alma smiled brightly, motioning for him to follow her the checkout counter. “Excellent,” she chimed, “Can I put them in a vase for you?”

His phone rang again. Link felt his eye twitch.

“Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please.”

“Would you like to add anything else? We have these precious sand seal plushies that would be just ador—”

“Just the flowers will be fine, thank you,” he said, more hurriedly than he’d intended. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he turned away from the counter and held the cell to his ear.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

A jovial cackle came from the other end of the line.

“Well, if it isn’t CHU’s resident asshole.”

Link pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he inhaled deeply. This was, decidedly, the last thing he needed right now.

“You called me, Revali,” he snapped, “Do you actually need something, or did you just want to be a dick?”

“You wound me, Link,” the other young man drawled, “Oh, no—wait. I’m not the one who’s wounded, am I?”

Link clenched his jaw, the snip of Alma’s scissors on the flowers’ stems suddenly and inordinately loud. He glanced up at the woman only to have her swiftly look away, feigning focus on her task.

“You’re quite the hot topic on campus,” he heard Revali sigh, “I’m almost envious, what with the way everyone’s got your name in their mouths.”

“Who’s talking about it?”

“Who isn’t talking about it? Link, you hit a woman with your car. In the quad, for the love of Hylia. How’d you even manage that, anyway?”

“Okay, look,” he nearly seethed, “It was not in the quad, it was the intersection next to the quad. And it was an accident! I had the right of way, I didn’t see her, and the—the walk sign wasn’t even on!”

“Was she on the crosswalk?”

Link balked as he conjured up the memory from the other day. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was putting on his turn signal, and the next a young blonde woman was sprawled out on the road in front of his car. “I mean…well, yeah, she was on the crosswalk.”

“Then she had the right of way. Pedestrians always have the right of way, genius.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to the sound of Revali’s raucous laughter in the background. His near equal on the university archery team, Revali and Link were self-proclaimed rivals; well-known ‘frenemies’ to the rest of their teammates. While Link undeniably respected him for his skill, he could also be a real pain in the ass.

Releasing a weighty sigh, he faced the counter again, only to be met with a piercing glare of disapproval from the woman standing behind it. His blood ran cold as he and Alma locked eyes, hers narrowed in wordless acknowledgment of his sin. Approaching the register, Link flipped his wallet open and removed his credit card before sliding it toward her across the grey acrylic.

“Ring up the seal.”

The ride up the elevator was gruelingly slow, the jarring ding! of the door opening on what seemed like every damned floor made Link’s head throb. The air inside the garishly carpeted box was stuffy and stagnant, the scent of antiseptic stinging his lungs with each inhale. He looked down at the overpriced stuffed animal in his arms and frowned, its judgmental button eyes boring into him. The sluggish chug of the ancient machinery as it whined to a stop was nauseating, jostling him just enough to make him dizzy.

He finally stepped off and onto the tenth floor, referring to the clumsy, smeared numbers written on his palm in red pen. Link wandered down a white linoleum hallway, the idle hum of incandescent lights buzzing overhead as he peered at room numbers; the water in the vase sloshed softly as he went. With the plush tucked under one arm and the flowers cradled in the other, he raised his fist to knock tentatively on a door marked 1003.

“Come in,” responded a quiet voice from the other side. Link instinctively held his breath as he pressed down on the door handle, inching it open.

The room was cold and clinical, painted and furnished in subtle greens and dull blues. Aside from several dim wall sconces, a large westward-facing window adorned with heavy curtains was the only source of light. Pushed up against the center of the back wall was a slim hospital bed, and in it sat a woman that Link had seen only once before—unconscious on the asphalt in front of his sedan. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he entered, darkening with realization mere seconds afterward.

“What are you doing here?”

Link froze, his thoughts scrambling as both his legs and tongue refused to move. All he could do was stare at her, eyes trained on the clunky, neon-green cast that enveloped her left arm. A purply-green bruise around the size of golf ball sat just below one of her eyes, swallowing the tiny freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her bottom lip puffed out, an angry cut splitting it vertically down the middle.

She looked awful.

And she had somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful at the exact same time.

“Well, I came to, uh,” he started, his words leaving his mouth before he had time to appropriately process them, “I came to see…how you were feeling.”

The young woman scoffed, turning her head towards the window. It was then that Link noticed the sutures running along the underside of her collarbone. Guilt roiled in his stomach for the millionth time that day as she began to speak.

“Let’s see; I’ve got bruised ribs, a couple of chipped teeth, and a concussion. Oh—and my arm is broken,” she replied in a biting tone, “So, I’m not great. Thanks.”

After a moment, he took a few tentative steps nearer to her bedside. He watched her gaze gradually slide in his direction, meticulously studying his movement. Link sighed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head. His chest felt suffocatingly tight, as though someone had his lungs trapped in an ever-tightening vise.

“Look, I know that nothing I say right now is going to make any of this less shitty,” he told her, “and I’m sure that I’m the last person that you wanted to see today. That being said, it would’ve been even shittier of me to not at least try and come apologize to you. Because I messed up, big time, and I’m really, really sorry.”

The young woman said nothing in response, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails as she considered his repentant declaration. Her brows knitted above her sea-like eyes, consternation marring her delicate features. Link’s resolve just about shattered when he saw the impending tears brimming at her waterline.

“And I brought you this seal,” he blurted out, placing the patchwork creature on the bed near her legs, “You just seemed like, uh…a seal person.”

To Link’s relieved surprise, the corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the stuffed animal. Picking it up and setting on her lap, a watery giggle burbled from her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. The chuckle soon morphed into a full-on laugh, a bright, contagious sound that filled the room. Unable to help himself, Link smiled, and was soon laughing with her despite not entirely knowing why.

“It’s cute,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s really cute. Thank you.”

They smiled through the remnants of their laughter as it faded out, leaving the two in silence again. The setting sun bathed the room in rosy amber and cast fractured, pinkish shadows on the walls. Unsure of what else to do, Link set the bouquet on her curiously empty bedside table. It was then that he paused to take stock of the rest of the room, realizing that it did not resemble what he imagined the hospital room of someone who’d just been hit by a car to look like.

It was devoid of any other flowers save the ones that he had brought, and missing were cards and balloons from well-wishing friends. He furrowed his brow, and his heart sank when the most likely reason for the lack of gifts dawned on him. She must be in Central for school, he thought, and all of her friends and family were wherever home was. Or, even worse—they were around, but couldn’t be bothered to come and pay her a visit. Turning back to face her, he gestured to her plaster-clad arm.

“No one’s signed your cast,” he noted.

She gave him a queer look. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, that’s the thing to do isn’t it? Have your friends write their names on your cast? And put, uh, I don’t know…stickers on it.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken an arm before,” she replied, shooting him a sly look. “I haven’t got many friends, either, I guess,” she added under her breath, face falling.

“Do you have a Sharpie?”

“Oh, um, I think I have a few in my backpack. It’s just over there, on that chair. Should be in the little side pocket.”

Link made his way over to a grey pleather armchair and unzipped the pocket in question, reaching inside to pull out several permanent markers. Returning to the bedside, he held them out to the blonde, presenting her with her choice of color; black, red, or blue. She looked up at him from beneath delicate lashes, grinning as she selected the blue one. She extended her arm, and he sat on the edge on the bed as he gingerly braced it with his free hand. After popping the cap off with his teeth, he scrawled his name on the lime-colored cast as gently as possible.

“Link,” she murmured when he’d finished, “I just realized that I didn’t even know your name until now.”

It was true. He knew her name, simply because he’d had to ask for it at the front desk, but they had never been properly introduced. Not surprising, considering the circumstances under which they came to know one another in the first place. He’d never seen her around campus before the other day, leading him to assume that they must not run in the same circles. That had to be the case, because hers was not a face that he would’ve forgotten.

“My name is Zelda,” she said, “Even though you probably know that already.”

“I do,” he admitted, “but it’s nice to officially meet you. Zelda.”

Her eyes crinkled at their corners when he reached out to lightly shake her fingers that poked out of the cast. He stood up from the bed, shooting her a quick smile before crossing the room to return the markers to her bag.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her say from behind him, “Oh, and for my seal.”

“It’s the least I could do, I think,” he responded, “I mean, considering.”

“Still,” Zelda went on, “It was kind of you to come. I just…I appreciate the company. It was getting a bit lonely here.”

Link stilled at that. So, she really was alone. He almost didn’t want to believe that not even her own parents had bothered to stop by, that not a single friend had sent a card. It had to be a mistake; there was no way that such an enchanting person had no one to call on.

“The, uh, food here must not be very good, huh?” He tried.

She cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“Hospital food. It’s notoriously bad,” he clarified, attempting to mentally signal to her that he was, in fact, going somewhere with this. “If you want, I could bring you something. Later, I mean, for dinner. I think I probably owe you that, don’t you?”

It could have been the sunset, but Link swore that a blush darkened her cheeks ever so slightly when she smiled at him, nodding. “That sounds great, actually.”

“Alright, it’s a date, then,” he announced without thinking, wincing immediately afterward, “I mean, uh, sounds like a plan.”

“Here, let me put my number in your phone,” she offered, holding out her good hand. He fished it from his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she tapped in her contact info with her only her index finger. After a short discussion about what kind of food she’d like to have, they said their goodbyes with the promise of seeing one another later that evening. Link closed to door carefully behind him, glancing back into the narrow window to see Zelda admiring her flowers.

He shuffled into the elevator, wedging himself in between a group of nurses and weary-looking man with a fussy toddler on his hip. It was humid and it was loud, and anyone else might have wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Link stared at Zelda’s name in his phone as the elevator made its agonizingly long descent back down to the lobby, already counting the minutes until he’d get to ride back up again.

I adored this prompt so much, I made it its own thing on AO3. Thank you for the ask! This was so much fun!

#zelink #zelink fic #zelink fanfiction #botw fanart #botw fanfiction #botw au #botw prompt #tloz botw #tloz fanfic #tloz fanart #link/zelda #legend of zelda #legend of zelda fanfiction #writers on tumblr #archive of our own #cyraclove #cyraclove writes #fanfiction #ao3 link

330 notes · View notes

jeonsjiddies · 5 years ago

Text

apodyopsis (m) | jjk

summary- apodyopsis (n.) ; the act of mentally undressing someone

alternatively, Jungkook is a nude model in your art class

rating- explicit / 18+ word count- 12k pairing- jungkook x reader genre- smut Warnings- daddy kink, slight degrading?, mild health concerns, very light bdsm?, masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), rough sex, kind of dom!jungkook, a little name calling?, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it bb)

a/n: our lovechild is born! We worked so hard on this, we hope you love it as much as we do. Currently thanking my lucky stars that @blkjmn agreed to collab with me, and that she saved my life with that glorious sex scene because I can’t seem to stop writing mushy fluffy smut. I love you so much thank you for being by my side and co-writing this with me. <3

“There’s one last thing we need to discuss before you are signed, Mr. Jeon. Do we need to backtrack for a moment to review, or shall we continue on?” The business contractor asked, using his thumb and index finger to push his glasses up further onto his nose bridge.

Jungkook wasn’t registering a single word that left the man’s mouth. His eyes were glued to the fine print on the page that described the job he’d be keeping for likely most of his (young adult) life, or at least until he was able to successfully rid himself of the guilt that's been resting on his broad shoulders for the last ten years.

He would never be able to forget the way his mother’s face fell every time he was discharged from the hospital. Not only did she have no answers and a still sick child to take home, but she also had a weighty hospital bill to add to the others that she received about once a month. She worked her ass off to take care of him as best she could, even with the gigantic debt she kept under her belt for the entirety of his childhood.

All of this was hidden from Jungkook until he was told he had celiac disease at the age of ten. His symptoms had gotten worse the longer his condition remained unnoticed, even though he would complain to his mother of constant pain everyday, tearful eyes locking with hers as if begging for her to give him any sort of relief.

“Mommy, my stomach hurts!”

“I’m not hungry! It makes it worse to eat!”

“Can you please make it stop, mama?”

He cringes every time he thinks about what he must’ve put his mother through as a child, and how she always managed to push a smile even though she was fighting to make ends meet.

Even after all of that, he was hesitating on signing this contract because he was too shy? Bullshit. He’d be selfish if he were to deny this opportunity because of his underlying fear of being seen naked in front of a large audience of people.

He knew he had no real reason to be afraid, though. After constant teasing in school for being extremely thin due to his illness, he built up the courage to get himself a gym membership when his condition became less overbearing.

He ate more often, built up more muscle, and managed to become more confident in himself and his abilities.

So, what did he have to be nervous for?

Jungkook no longer had any issues with stripping himself down. His body was sculpted perfectly, and he had a massive dick to accompany the figure he had worked for so many years towards.

Sure, everything was all set for him, but not for his mom. Jungkook knew that she barely managed to make her rent last month.

He needed to sign this contract.

“Mr. Jeon?” Jungkok’s glossy eyes were blown wide. He hadn’t moved an inch in the past minute.

“Mr. Jeon…” The man rolled his eyes, obviously knowing that it would take a bit more than calling the young man’s name to get him out of whatever trance he’d put himself in. He slammed his fist down onto the table, and Jungkook’s eyes crossed for a moment before he jolted to his senses.

He cleared his throat, and immediately began sputtering apologies.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m not quite sure what came over me, I-” The contractor held his hand up, effectively silencing the boy as he picked up the pen that sat to the right of him while offering it to Jungkook with a raised brow.

“If this is something that you are not going to take seriously, then you may escort yourself out of my office. If you’d like to begin your career in this field, then take this pen and sign this contract.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate in grabbing the pen from the man, immediately apologizing for the way he snatched it out of his grasp.

He gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning over the words on the thin paper as if he hadn’t been in this chair reviewing them for the past three hours.

This job paid well, and he had nothing to risk.

Except for the probable denial of any office job he’d try to apply to.

Why would he want an office job anyway?

Probably because--

“Any day now, Mr. Jeon.” He cast an annoyed glance toward the man. Couldn’t he see that he was contemplating on signing the damn thing?

He sighed, stretched his neck from side to side, and lifted the pen to the paper with a shaking hand.

The moment he finished signing, the crumpled sheet was ripped from under his fingertips, and tucked away into the desk of who Jungkook really hoped wouldn’t be his boss.

“It’s nice to have you along, kid.” Jungkook smiled nervously.

“You’ve got a great look, but of course, nude modeling is about what’s under the clothes.” His face instantly began to pale as he gripped the armrests of the chair he sat in.

Was this old dude asking to see him naked? Right now?

“You can step inside of the bathroom behind me to change. There should be a robe hanging on the door. Put it on, meet me outside, and we’ll take a few pictures for your portfolio.”

Jungkook sat still in the chair, staring at the man across from him with those adorable eyes widened in slight panic.

He was trying to pull himself up so he wouldn’t look like a fumbling idiot, but he couldn’t move a limb.

There was no turning back now, and he was fully aware of that.

“Am I… am I supposed to be naked for the f-first photo shoot?” Jungkook asked, his voice weak.

The contractor raised an eyebrow. It was normal for newcomers to be nervous, but he couldn’t understand why it was so difficult for him to follow directions.

In due time, he supposed.

“No, Jungkook.” The contractor sighed, pressing his thumb and middle finger against his temples in distress. Jungkook noted that this was the first time the man had addressed him formally as well, so it was probably in his best interest to go get changed if he didn’t want to get fired before he officially started the job.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, standing from the chair as he looked over the contractor’s shoulder to the bathroom. It seemed to be decently sized, and he could really use some time alone to get his nerves settled before he had to… well, pose naked for the camera.

Well, not naked. Not this time. That’s what the contractor said.

He looked toward the man one last time, before he began pushing himself in the direction of the bathroom. Upon approaching it, he could pick up the smell of lavender coming from the candles that were lit inside.

He opened the door, and immediately turned around to close and lock it.

He checked to make sure the door was locked before he pulled his shirt over his head and carefully pulled each of his shoes off.

He checked once more as he unbuckled his pants.

He checked one final time as he threw his belt to the floor.

Jungkook slid his thumbs in between his hips and the fabric of the jeans as he tugged them down toward the ground. He had no issue with this as of yet, seeing as he was still in his boxers.

He pressed his body up against the wall, giving himself something to lean up against as he took his jeans off and threw them toward the pile of his clothes he created on the floor.

The boxers were all that were left.

“Come on, man.” He whispered to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror as he began to get annoyed at his own anxiousness.

It was just a couple of pictures, and he’d be covered by a robe. He was acting like a wreck for no reason.

He closed his eyes and yanked the boxers down in one swift motion, knowing that if he hesitated, he probably would’ve just left them on.

Jungkook shivered as the cold air went straight to his dick, and he almost knocked one of the candles over and sent the bathroom up into flames as he lunged for the robe that was near the door.

It was soft and fluffy, and it also carried the faint scent of the lavender that engulfed his senses. It was warm as well, like a heated towel.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad, then.

He noticed that there were a pair of flimsy sandals sitting near the door as he prepared to leave. He was never told to put them on, or to mess with them at all, but he’d rather not walk around with his bare feet, so he slid them on anyway.

He checked his reflection once more, adjusting the robe a bit so it hung loosely around his waist, and so more of his chest could be exposed.

Sure, he was nervous, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to put on a good show.

He ran his hands down his sides, purposely brushing them over his cock as he considered giving it a few quick pumps before he made his way outside.

That’d be sure to leave a great first impression, which was what he was going for, but it’d be obvious that he was touching himself because his face would blush bright red.

He reached down to grab his clothes, folding them somewhat neatly. He grabbed his shoes and sat them on top of the stack of clothes he’d made.

Worry began to bubble in his stomach once he stepped out of the bathroom to find himself alone in the large office room, but he quickly remembered that he was told to meet the guy outside.

He hummed a small tune as he took quick steps toward the office door, placing his large hand upon the knob and opening it slowly, just in case his boss (Jungkook decided to assume that’s who this man was going to become. It’s better to wish for the worst anyway, right?) was right in front of the door.

Once he didn’t feel any force being pressed against the door, he opened it carefully and shimmied his way out of the office. He pressed his back against it to close it, and this small action caught the attention of his boss, who was sitting on a small bench a few feet away from the office.

“Great! You’re all changed.” The man smiled gently at him, clapping his hands together as he stood up and quickly approached Jungkook.

Jungkook stumbled back a few steps, confused by this sudden change of behavior. Was it because he was finally complying, or was it because he was about to be used for profit?

Either way, he didn’t mind. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to work in a less stressful environment, so he’d take what he could get.

“Uh, yeah… I wasn’t sure of where to put my clothes,” Jungkook began, holding up his clothes as he spoke, “so I decided to—“

“Ah, thank you for the reminder!” The man spoke, retreating back toward the bench he sat on to fetch an unmarked black bookbag from behind it.

He handed it to Jungkook, who took it thankfully and with a small smile.

“When do I return this to you?” Jungkook asked, not bothering to look toward his boss as he spoke as he was busy stuffing his belongings into the bag.

“It’s yours to keep, son.” Jungkook closed the bag and stood up, tossing it lazily over one of his shoulders as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, thank you so much.” He smiled sincerely. He was especially thankful that it was unmarked, because if he were to wear the bag out in public, he’d hate for someone to actually read the company name and google it, only to find pictures of him covered with only a robe on the home page.

He shivered at the thought.

“The studio is actually on this floor, so we haven’t got far of a walk at all.” His boss began to walk, and Jungkook followed a few feet behind him as he began to survey his surroundings at each turn they took.

“Now, there will be a handful of people in this room with you. Other models, photographers, of course, lighting specialists, stylists, and a few possible employers.” Jungkook hummed as the man spoke, ignoring every word that was coming out of his mouth as his heart began to thud loudly in his chest.

He didn’t need this explanation, anyway. The average person knows a little something about how a photo shoot works.

Even though he was a considerable distance away from his boss, he was almost sure that he could hear the thudding in his chest.

“Every single one of the people waiting in this room are going to do their best to make you look good, so there’s no need to worry. Relax, and you focus on making the company look good.” He laughed throatily, and Jungkook laughed stiffly from behind him.

‘Make the company look good my ass,’ Jungkook thought.

He rolled his eyes, almost crashing directly into the short man in front of him as they abruptly stopped at a door tucked away into the corner of the hallway they were on.

“This is it. Do you have anything else to ask of me?” Jungkook hurriedly said no, his nerves being replaced by the excitement to show himself off a bit.

“Alright.” The man nodded once before he opened the door, and once again, Jungkook was slapped in the dick with a blast of cold air.

He raised his eyebrows in interest as he surveyed the few models that were scattered about the different sets that were spread apart in the room. One set was sexy and seductive, dripping in elements of crimson and black, another was a bit more fun, which used orange and yellow to contrast against the white, and Jungkook couldn’t even conjure up the words to describe the other sets.

He continued to watch the models pose as if this was natural for them, flinching every now and then at the bright light that would flash every time a picture was taken.

He also noted that all of the models were nude.

They seemed to be masters of their talents, so maybe Jungkook got to leave the robe on because he was an amateur?

“Shit.” Jungkook cursed under his breath. Another cool draft of wind ran through the room, and he scurried to look down and pull the robe over his thighs.

Jungkook heaved a sigh of relief once he successfully covered himself, and his boss quickly strolled over to him to grab the bag off of his shoulder. Jungkook immediately looked over to ask him what he was doing, but before he got the chance, he was being whisked away by a manicured hand.

Everything moved quickly, but this should’ve been what Jungkook was expecting. This wasn’t just about his money.

He was thrown onto a couch near the center of the room, which was white just like the walls.

As soon as his ass touched the couch cushions, there were at least four people crowding over him to add some blush to his cheeks, and add some hairspray to his hair.

He was startled, but he didn’t mind the chaotic environment. It reminded him very much of the hospital he frequented when he was younger, and the thought of him finally being able to help his mom out after so long brought a smile to his face.

After the clutter of bodies went away, Jungkook was left alone on the couch with a camera pointed directly at him.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.

The man behind the camera snapped a few shots of Jungkook to test the quality of the photos, and once he was pleased with what he saw, he stared expectantly at Jungkook with a raised brow.

“Uh…” Jungkook began.

“Take your robe off.” He stated bluntly. Jungkook choked, and immediately looked to where he saw his boss last, but he was nowhere to be found.

That fucker.

“I—I thought that I—“

“You may want to be quick about it, too. Time is money, and the more pictures we take of you, the better your chances are at being promoted.” Jungkook sighed.

If there was one thing he needed, it was money.

Hell, that’s what he got the job for.

He slowly brought his hands down to the sash that was holding the robe together and undid it, tossing it next to him on the couch.

He smirked lightly when he heard a few of the women standing behind the photographer gasp, quickly scanning every one of their faces to see their shocked expressions.

Jungkook could read the women easily. They all bit their lips, winked, or waved flirtatiously as he made eye contact with them, except for one woman.

She smiled teasingly at him, although she was seemingly unimpressed with his level of confidence. She raised an eyebrow tauntingly, pretending as if she didn’t understand why everyone was reacting as if they’d never seen a penis before. Though her cool exterior radiated disinterest, Jungkook could see past her facade, her eyes gave everything away. He could see the desire in her y/e/c irises. Jungkook understood, he felt it too.

Jungkook returned the smile, oddly at ease by her presence. He absentmindedly licked his lips as he raked his eyes up and down the curves of her figure.

She wore a long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame perfectly, a tight skirt that rested a few inches above her knees, and a pair of black heels that made her legs look absolutely stunning from where Jungkook was sitting.

He was sure they’d still look delicious if he were to take a closer look, which he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

His mind wandered, images of her naked body flashing behind his eyelids. He lost himself in his daydreams of kissing up her legs while she squirmed underneath him.

What the hell is wrong with him? He was made to be the one receiving suggestive glances, but here he was, blatantly checking out the cute girl that was just trying to make him comfortable.

The girl broke eye contact with him, and he immediately looked away as well, squirming slightly in his seat as he felt his cock harden between his legs.

He made no effort to hide it, but he did close his legs a bit to make it less obvious.

He did not just get a boner because he made eye contact with a pretty girl.

Well, on the bright side, he didn’t have to worry about getting himself hard in the bathroom.

He glanced over in the lady’s direction once more, pouting once he noticed that she was no longer paying any attention to him, instead scribbling something down on a notepad she held in her small hands.

Why did he want her attention so bad?

“Alright,” The photographer began, bringing Jungkook back down to earth, “Keep it natural. The more relaxed you feel, the better your photos will turn out.” Jungkook nodded, a bit more eager than he should’ve been to begin his first session.

“Perfect!” The photographer yelled, snapping one last photo of Jungkook before he closed the lens of his camera and began to pack up his equipment.

Most of the other models and workers filed out already, and Jungkook was overly thankful that it would be his turn to leave this room next.

Jungkook thought the shoot went very well, as it was very easy for him to… keep himself encouraged throughout, thanks to that pretty lady.

He relaxed from his position, in which he was leaned forward, his elbows propped onto his knees as he smirked cockily at the camera.

He wasn’t sure of what to do just yet, waiting for his liar of a boss to make himself shown again.

Especially considering that the man had his clothes and shoes.

Jungkook sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his back into the couch as he breathed in and out slowly. He continued like this for a few moments, until he could hear heels tapping against the floor in his direction.

He opened one of his eyes, taking a peek at who was walking toward him.

Jungkook immediately sat up upon noticing that it was the woman with the sexy legs that kept his dick hard through the entirety of his shoot.

She approached him with a friendly smile, and Jungkook returned her sincerity with a smile of his own.

“Could I take a seat?” She motioned toward the empty spot on the couch next to him. Jungkook nodded once.

“Of course.” He moved over a bit, his cock swinging against his inner thigh as he did so.

It was then that he realized that he was absolutely naked still, so he grabbed the robe that laid over the arm of the couch and threw it on, as if the woman hadn’t already seen everything he had to offer— and more.

“Thank you!” She smiled at him. ”I’m Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jungkook.” She chuckled at this. Jungkook was confused as to what she found funny, maybe his name?

He gripped the robe between his fingers, nervously running the pads of them over the soft material as he pondered over what could’ve made the tempting woman in front of him giggle so sweetly.

“Why’re you laughing?” She noticed his nerves return, a knowing smirk on her lips as she watched the way he shyly avoided eye contact with her.

“I already know who you are, Mr. Jeon.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. It’s almost as if she knew she was enticing.

“You did some great work today, you know?” She flashed him an adorable smile again.

It was something about the way that ‘Mr. Jeon’ rolled off of her tongue that was driving Jungkook up the wall.

“Look, I know this may seem a bit forward, but you radiate great potential.” Jungkook nodded, thanking her quietly, as she pulled out that notepad that she was scribbling in when she was too busy to give him attention while he was posing sexily.

“I conduct an art class at a community center, and I’d love it if you were to drop by and model for me a bit, since you’ve gotten the swing of things fairly quickly.” She giggled, as she ripped out the page from the small book and handed it to him gently.

“Please, feel free to decline if you’re uncomfortable, but if you’d like to give it a try then give me a call.” She eyed him carefully as he picked up the paper and read over it.

“That’s my personal number, so you can call me whenever you’d like.” Something about that sentence put an image into Jungkook’s head.

“Alright, I’ll get out of your hair now.” She stood up, collecting her belongings as she did so.

“If I never run into you again, then it’s been a pleasure, Jungkook.” She proceeded to walk away, leaving him on the couch alone.

Jungkook lingered just outside the door of the art room, his stomach twisting with nerves. When he’d first been approached about modeling, he’d laughed it off. It started off with easy stuff, brand deals and commercial advertisements. How did he end up here? Posing nude in front of a group of strangers to pick apart his body for their art? This was the best paying gig he’d ever been presented with… the small advertising gigs had been a couple hundred at best but this one would put a sizable dent in his mother’s debt, easing her misfortune. Jungkook had to do this. For her.

He held his head high and strolled into the room with a confident air, any trace of his uneasiness washed away. He glanced around at the unfamiliar faces, carefully watching his every move. He smiled in a greeting, until his eyes landed on you. His face lit up at seeing your familiar face and your heart clenched at the sight. Should Jungkook have found comfort in your deceptively soft eyes? No. Did he? Absolutely. Your sharp tongue didn’t phase him too badly, not when he could see the tenderness in your eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon.” you smiled, extending your hand in an invitation.

Jungkook reached out, enveloping your small hand in his own larger one, shaking it professionally. He reveled at how soft your skin was.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N.” he greeted. “Good morning, everyone.” he addressed the rest of the room. “Please call me Jungkook.”

“Alright. Jungkook here is going to be our model. Long gone are the days of fruit baskets. Here is where the fun begins.” you smirked, sending a raised eyebrow Jungkook’s way.

In spite of himself, Jungkook blushed under your suggestive gaze.

“Now, don’t forget that this is for art.” you emphasized. “The human body is a work of art and I expect you to treat it as such. Take this seriously. Okay?”

Most heads nodded automatically, a few older women rolled their eyes or stole looks from each other, mocking you. You were placing a young, muscular man in front of them without clothes. How did you expect them not to ogle?

“For this particular piece, we’re going to be exploring how to use charcoal to get those little details. Don’t forget your shading!” you chimed happily. “Ready, Jungkook?”

“I think so.” he smiled.

“Show us what you got.” you grinned, stepping back and sitting at your own easel.

Jungkook’s hands trembled a bit as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying his best to 1. Not look like a total basket case and 2. Not make it super sensual. Deft fingers worked their way down his shirt and soon the material was sliding off his body in a way he felt was unceremoniously, but judging from the mouths hanging open around the room, might’ve been a bit more enticing than he’d intended.

Jungkook’s chest was absolutely flawless, in your opinion. You were one of the few who managed to keep your tongue inside your mouth for the show, but that didn’t stop your eyes from wandering over his toned physique. Sure you’d seen him at his photography shoot, but he was wearing a robe and you were trying to be professional. Now, hidden behind your easel, you were free to really take him in.

His chiseled chest, the deep ridges of his toned abs, the smoothness of his skin, the light dusting of hair that teased its way under his jeans. He was a walking wet dream. Your mouth watered as your gaze followed the lines of his V. Jungkook popped open the button of his jeans, tugging the zipper down as well. You’d never been so entranced by a simple movement in your life. The man radiated sexual energy.

He shimmied his hips free of the denim, his every movement captivating his audience. Firm hip bones, luscious thick thighs, deliciously tanned skin were all slowly revealed as he tugged the jeans off in one fluid motion. Maybe he should be a stripper instead of a model… You shook the thought away, but it lingered. Jungkooks movements faltered for a moment, his eyes seeking yours for comfort. You smiled reassuringly at him, and that was all he needed to tug his boxers over his delicious thighs and let his glorious cock free.

“Holy shit.” you heard from somewhere behind you.

“He reminds me of a lover I once had in Prague. I’d sneak him into my hotel room and we’d make love until the sun came up. I miss being young.”

Jungkook coughed and brought his arm up to cover the flush spreading across his cheeks at the older woman’s inappropriate comment. You bit back a laugh.

“Alright Jungkook, just make yourself comfortable and we’ll start drawing you, okay?” you instructed, attempting to take his mind off of the earlier comment.

“Okay.” he nodded, settling himself on the stool you’d set out for him, resisting the urge to strike a pose he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold.

The room grew quiet save for the scratch of charcoal on canvas as the class began attempting to do justice to Jungkook’s beauty in their renditions of him. You began by tracing an outline of his body, opting not to attempt any details yet. The pink tint that rested upon the apple of your cheeks was hard to ignore, and you weren’t sure you could handle trying to get details of certain areas just yet.

You did your best to ignore the effect Jungkook’s naked body was having on your own fully clothed one. He was ethereal, beautiful, the kind of man you could lose yourself in. He had charisma, a way about him that just drew people in. Or maybe it was just you. Every time your eyes locked with his, it was like he was the only thing you could focus on. Everything else was obsolete.

Jungkook held a power over you that honestly scared you a little, and he didn’t even know he did. He didn’t understand how magnetic he was. Sure, he was sexy and he knew it. He’d obviously spent hours painstakingly sculpting his body to perfection, but it wasn’t even just his flawless physique, it wasn’t just his gorgeous, greek-god-like face. His power was inside of him, his strength, his determination, that spark in his gaze.

Jungkook was different from the rest, whether he realized it or not. He was special. Everything about him invited you in and coaxed you to give all of yourself to him. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from wondering as you lazily sketched the outline of him. How would his skin feel under your touch? Heat flooded your veins as you imagined what his touch might feel like in return. You shook these thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand and trying to see Jungkook as nothing more than art you were depicting. You were going to make certain you got every detail correct. And for that, you needed to focus.

Jungkook forced himself to look anywhere but at the people who were gawking at his naked frame. He couldn’t stop himself from watching you though. He found himself wondering what you thought of him. He wanted to see what you were doing on your canvas. He wanted you to look at him. As if reading his thoughts, you lifted your gaze and faltered when you found his already upon you. When your eyes met and he bit his lip in a nervous smile, you knew you were screwed.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a week later. Your class had nearly doubled in size as word spread of the toned man with the impressive cargo. You rolled your eyes to yourself but greeted your new arrivals with the same professional smile. You couldn’t blame them, not really. Would you have passed up the opportunity to see him naked again? Hell no. He was already undressed when you’d arrived, running late after a meeting with the program director congratulating you on your ability to gain interest in your class.

“Sorry I’m late!” you announced to the class, then to Jungkook specifically with an apologetic look.

“That’s alright dearie.” one of the older women commented, and you sent her a gracious smile.

“So! For those of you who are new, you can partner up with someone and observe or you can find your own Canvas located on the tables in the back. If you need any help please let me know, since you weren’t here for the introductory lessons.”

“Does she really think we’re here just to draw?” you heard a whisper from the back of the room.

“I know. I didn’t believe Karen when she told me an asian boy with a giant dong was modeling for her community center art class. I had to see for myself.” another voice giggled.

“If I were 15 years younger, I would climb that boy like a tree. I may be old enough to be his mother, but I could still give him a run for his money.”

“Mmm.. I wonder what he can do with those fingers. I bet he has stamina for days.”

You glanced up at Jungkook, who was actively trying to hide his discomfort, shifting a little on the stool as he attempted to stay still. You cleared your throat, loudly, sending a pointed look to the two women in the back.

“I just want to remind our newcomers that this class is about art, not objectification. Please remain respectful. If you can’t manage that, I’m sure you can manage to find the door.” you nearly hissed.

They shrugged sheepishly and grew quiet. You huffed in annoyance, glancing back at Jungkook again, who sent you an appreciative smile. You nodded, focusing on your canvas in front of you once more.

Once class was over and the others had filed out, you walked up to Jungkook as he was buttoning his jeans. He looked up from his task and greeted you with a warm smile.

“Hey, Y/N.” he grinned, apparently forgetting he still needed to put a shirt on.

You used every brain cell you had to keep yourself from staring at his chiseled chest.

“Hey Jungkook.” you smiled. “Are you okay? Did those women make you uncomfortable? I can ask them not to come back.”

“Oh it’s okay!” he assured you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to be a bother. It did make me kind of uncomfortable but they stopped so it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? They said some pretty inappropriate things.” you pressed.

“I don’t mind that what they said was inappropriate,” he explained, “it’s more that they were talking about me like I wasn’t even here. Like I was some sex doll or something. I don’t mind women finding me attractive, but I do have sustenance.”

“I get it. You shouldn’t be objectified while you’re doing your job.” you told him.

“Kind of hard to remind people I have dignity when I’m standing in front of them in all my naked glory. I can see how that might be distracting.” he winked playfully.

“Ah, there’s that cocky personality.” you threw back at him with a grin.

“Seriously though. Thank you for being on my side.” he told you sincerely.

Electricity shot through your body when he leaned in and gave you a gentle hug. You took a deep breath to steady yourself but that only resulted in breathing in the scent of him, musky and woodsy, yet sweet. It reminded you of cinnamon. It was intoxicating.

You desperately ignored the ache between your thighs and wrapped your arms around him to reciprocate his affections. His body seemed to relax against yours and the embrace lasted a little longer than a hug between mostly strangers should. He pulled away but held you at arms length to watch your features for a moment.

“See, now that’s the kind of look I don’t mind from a woman. Especially one as beautiful as you.” he smirked, turning and grabbing his shirt off the stool before sauntering away and shooting you a shit eating grin as you stand frozen in place.

You shot up, waking with a fright. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. Images flashing through your mind once more. Your subconscious thoughts led way to the hottest sex dream you’d ever experienced, and of course the star was your male model. You couldn’t stop picturing his mouth on you, his hands on you. You shook your head to clear it. Alone in your bed, you couldn’t get that cocky grin out of your mind. You tried to fight it, you really did. You tried to redirect your mind anywhere but his plump lips, his perfectly sculpted jaw, the way his warm skin felt against yours when he’d hugged you…

Shrouded in shame but overcome with desire, you let your hand dance down your stomach underneath the elastic of your pajama shorts, your fingers finding their way to your slit. You closed your eyes, imagining it was Jungkook’s fingers inside you instead. You pumped them slowly in and out of yourself.

“Ungh… fuck. Jungkook.” you whined, writhing against your fingers, trying to find that spot that drove you crazy.

You picked up the pace, letting your fingers find a delicious rhythm inside of you, wondering what it would feel like if it were Jungkook inside of you instead. His cock was so pretty. It took everything you had not to stand up and start sucking it every time you saw it.

“Jungkook.” left your lips as your whines got louder, moving your attention to circle at your clit with your juices as lubrication.

You wished you had a picture of him to look at while you pleasured yourself to the idea of him, but you let your imagination take control, replaying images from your dream, and creating new fantasies about the model with the sultry eyes. You were close, and the closer you got to the edge, the louder you became. You swore you could almost hear the faint sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing along with your own, but it must’ve been your imagination running wild.

Your orgasm crashed over you, Jungkook’s name leaving your lips repeatedly, like he was the only thought you could muster when your brain turned off and your high took over. You fucked yourself through it, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you pulled your fingers out. You padded your way to the bathroom to wash up, climbing back into bed not nearly as satiated as you’d hoped to have been. You drifted to sleep anyway, thoughts of Jungkook and the hope of seeing him again soon on the forefront of your mind when unconsciousness took over.

Jungkook was early today, you noticed as you walked into the art room. You were the first two to have arrived, you wanted to make up for being late the previous week.

“Hey. What are you doing here so early?” you asked, setting your bag down as you made your way over to him.

“Needed to talk to you.” he responded, voice low and husky.

“Everything okay?” you asked, concern filling your chest.

“No. Everything is not okay.” he hissed, trapping you against the wall.

You shivered at the sudden change in his demeanor, at his body so close to yours, at the dominating tone of his voice.

“I’ve been horny as hell all week.” he grunted, rutting his hips into yours.

“O-oh.” was all you could muster for a response, your body immediately reacting to his movements and sending moisture to your core.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a call from you late Saturday night.” he smirked, lips ghosting over the hollow of your throat, allowing his cool breath to fan against the area. He watched your skin flush crimson and felt your heart rate pick up.

Saturday night? You hadn’t called him. Saturday night you were… oh.

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you sound when you’re moaning my name?” he teased, rolling his hips and pulling them back before pinning you to the wall with them once more, his erection pressed firmly against your aching heat.

“I-” you began to explain, but he cut you off.

“Fuck, the way you sound when you cum… I nearly came too. Listening to you fuck yourself for me. Tell me, what were you thinking about when your fingers sunk into that pretty little pussy? Was it my mouth?” he questioned, letting his lips graze along the shell of your ear.

“Was it my cock?” he ground his hardened member into you once more. “Maybe it was my tongue.” he mused, licking a bold stripe from the swell of your breasts to your collarbone.

A whimper was forced from your throat at his ministrations. You were hyper aware of every breath Jungkook took, feeling his body move against yours. You were also aware that at any moment, people were going to start filing through the door for class.

“Jungkook.” you breathed, a warning.

Or was it a promise?

Jungkook groaned, biting down on the side of your neck and sucking a purple bruise into the exposed flesh, then blowing cold air over the injured spot to soothe it. Your entire body shivered. Jungkook’s head turned as he heard footsteps approach the door. With a pointed look directly into your eyes, he stepped back from you and put much needed space between his body and yours, just in time for the first arrival to walk through the door.

You must’ve been a sight to behold, flushed and breathing heavily while pressed up against the wall. You hadn’t been able to make yourself move after Jungkook stepped away. He looked unbothered, but you were about to burst. You could feel your arousal slipping down your leg. You cursed yourself for wearing a skirt.

Jungkook, however, was thrilled with your outfit choice for the day. Especially since once you’d taken your seat at your easel, he had a front row view of your white lacy panties. Jungkook had already stripped naked for today’s modeling session, having put all of his effort into calming his dick down so he wasn’t hard in front of everyone. However, his efforts were moot when he noticed the dark wet patch imprinted on the ivory fabric that covered your heat.

Jungkook bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood as his eyes latched onto your core. You shifted in your seat, attempting to press your thighs together to find some relief, an action which made Jungkook smirk to himself. Until his cock started reacting. In front of everyone. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was more turned on or more embarrassed when he noticed your gaze unwavering on his hardening member. Your mouth hung open slightly, drool pooling at the edges. Jungkook chuckled to himself.

The other members of the class were just as astonished as you were, but Jungkook paid them no mind. All he could think about was getting inside of you. He couldn’t stop picturing the way your pupils had blown out just at his words, the way your breath hitched when he touched you. He bet you’d be so responsive when his fingers came to tease along your folds. He wondered how tight you were, if you’d be as loud as you were on the phone or even louder? Surely he could make you scream if you’d been that loud with just your own fingers?

Jungkook gave up trying to control his raging boner the moment he saw your arousal pooled at your core on display for him. Suddenly, he saw your hand sneak between your legs and tease along the ivory fabric. His gaze snapped up to your face, your eyes alight with mischief when they met his own. Your fingers pushed the damp fabric aside and began circling around your clit. Jungkook was the only one who could see from his position at the front of the room.

You were putting on a show for him, torturing him when he could do nothing about it. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you, but your face remained impassive, the epitome of feigned innocence. But like always, Jungkook saw the real you behind your heavy lidded gaze. You couldn’t hide from him, he could read you like an open book. There was nothing innocent about the way you were licking your lips, slowly dragging the swollen flesh between your teeth teasingly.

Your fingers spread your folds so Jungkook had a perfect view of your clit as you began rubbing it in slow circles. Jungkook’s eyes were glued to your bundle of nerves and the way your fingers teased at it. You gathered some of your slick to coat your fingers and lubricate them so they slid along your cunt with ease. Your digits were shiny, covered in your arousal. Jungkook nearly came when he watched in agony as you inserted two fingers into your entrance, pulling them back out and twisting them so he could watch the light reflect off your wetness. You stuck them in your mouth and sucked your juices off seductively before going back to your sketch.

Jungkook could not wait to punish your naughty behavior. He couldn’t wait to wipe that satisfied smirk off your face with an expert flick of his tongue. You had an attitude now, but once he was balls deep inside that soaking wet pussy he was sure you wouldn’t be quite so eager to tease him. You weren’t going to cum until you were crying and begging for it, he’d already made up his mind.

The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slow, each passing second felt like an eternity as Jungkook waited for class to be over. It felt like his dick twitched every time the little hand on the clock did. No matter what he did, no matter what he thought of, Jungkook could not get his erection to subside. His thoughts only led back to the lewd way you’d sucked your own arousal off your fingers.

Jungkook thought he might cry tears of joy when you finally dismissed the class with a chipper wave of your hand and a sweet smile. The second the last person walked out the door, Jungkook shut it and you heard the click of the lock echo throughout the empty room. You swallowed nervously, bending over to grab your bag, earning a hearty laugh from Jungkook.

“Oh baby girl… you really think I’m just going to let you leave after the little show you put on for me?” he purred, advancing toward you quickly until his body was flush against yours, breath tickling the space below your ear. “So naughty, teasing daddy like that.” he tsked.

His fingers trailed their way up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, though it was barely even there. His skin danced along yours, coming to rest at the curve of your breasts.

“Mmm… I think I’d like to taste these.” he grinned, suddenly yanking your tank top down so that both of your nipples were exposed to the bitter cold of the room.

A smirk played on his lips at the gasp that snuck its way past yours. His head dipped, and you thought he’d immediately take one of your nipples in his mouth, you were salivating over the thought of his warm, wet mouth on your perky buds. Instead, his pillow soft lips found yours, his tongue roaming along until you parted your lips and granted him access.

His tongue danced with yours as he brought his hips closer to grind into your aching center. You had never wanted anyone as badly as you wanted Jungkook. The man pressed against you had you brainless and ready to do anything he asked with a simple roll of his hips.

Jungkook decided he didn’t like being the only naked one, and pulled your shirt above your head. Were you shivering from the cold air or Jungkook’s predatory gaze? Hell if you knew. Jungkook’s nimble fingers had your bra unhooked in a suspiciously short amount of time but you paid that no mind. He flung it across the room and his mouth was on your breast in an instant. Slick tongue working against your erect nipple while the other was massaged by his large hand. Every movement of his tongue, every playful pinch of his forefinger and thumb against your sensitive skin was sending lightning bolts straight down to your heat.

Jungkook’s mouth left your breast with an audible “pop!” since he sucked the flesh as he pulled away, switching his efforts to the neglected side, this time mixing it up by grazing his teeth ever so softly along the most sensitive part. Soft whimpers left you and you effectively became putty in his hands... and mouth. His tongue darted out to give a final flick against your sensitive bud before his hot kisses descended south. He kissed along the expanse of your stomach, slowly working his way down, sucking and nibbling as he went to leave small bruises dotted over your skin. He flipped your skirt up, exposing the lacy white panties that had been taunting him for hours, and the dark wet patch where your arousal soaked through them. Jungkook let out a growl, ripping the ivory fabric from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your pussy to him.

“So fucking beautiful. Better than I’d imagined.” He praised.

Without warning, his tongue darted out and swiped along your folds. Your knees buckled but Jungkook’s strong arms held you up, hands on either of your hips to keep you still and pressed against the wall while he worked his tongue along your slit then against your throbbing clit.

“Shit!” You cried out, body jolting forward and hands coming to rest on his shoulders when his plump lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle and sucked harshly.

Jungkook showed no mercy, devouring your cunt like it was his death row meal, the final wish of a man with nothing to lose. He lapped at your juices as if it were the last thing he’d ever do. Your entire body was thrumming, shaking violently as your orgasm was wretched out of you with no warning.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, or a curse, you weren’t sure. The only thing you could focus on was the blinding white euphoria his tongue had shoved you headfirst into. You would’ve collapsed if Jungkook hadn’t held you up, allowing you to slowly sink to your knees to meet his posture as your body twitched and shook at the aftermath of your mind blowing high. Your breathing ragged and your eyes wide, you watched the satisfied smile appear on his angelic face. Cocky bastard. Sexy, skilled, ridiculously beautiful cocky bastard.

“Still feeling like a tease?” Jungkook asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he raised an eyebrow at you. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and all of his words sounded like another language at the moment.

“What?” You asked, causing him to laugh a bit at your clearly fucked out state of mind. Although the both of you were stripped down to almost nothing (save your skirt) and on your knees in the ground, it was clear who held the power between the two of you.

“You wanna taste yourself on my tongue?” He offered, already beginning to lean forward as he reached his arm out to pull your body closer to his, but you shook your head, an idea playing in the back of your head as you quickly conjured up a plan that’d have him weak and panting instead.

“I’d rather taste you on my own. Stand up.” You ordered.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your cute attempt at telling him what to do as if he hadn’t successfully put you in your place a minute or two ago. He stood nonetheless, vaguely interested in whatever you had up your sleeve. His goal was to make you suffer, but he supposed you could have a bit of fun before he fucked you brainless over that desk that sat a few feet away from the two of you.

You shifted yourself around a bit, as did he, so he now had his back pressed against the wall. You sat submissively under him, although Jungkook was anything but while he had ravaged your sweetness with his tongue.

“You’re pretty with your thighs around my face, but there’s just something about you on your knees.” Jungkook teased, his cockiness never failing to make an appearance as he ran a hand through your hair in appreciation.

You hummed to thank him, a sly smile of your own playing on your lips as you slowly lifted your small hand up to his cock. This small action alone had him tensing up completely, hissing quietly as you squeezed your hand loosely against his length repeatedly until he had to intertwine his fingers with your locks and pull your head up.

“You’d better stop unless you want to walk out of this room with my cum dripping down your face.” He warned.

You shrugged, leaning forward a bit, placing your free hand on his thigh while you stroked his cock slowly, your eyes honing in on the clear liquid that leaked from the tip of his length. You licked your lips at the thought of swiping it away with your tongue, but you weren’t supposed to give in this easily. This wasn’t a part of your plan, but you’d give anything just to keep seeing the expression of pure ecstasy on his face.

You continued to stroke him with your hand, purposely digging your nails into his thigh to see if it’d bring a reaction out of him. A shiver ran from his spine to the tips of his toes as you did this, and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips.

“You like a little pain?” You teased, narrowing your eyes at him in defiance as you stuck your tongue out, pressing it slowly against his shaft.

You licked a stripe from his balls to the angry tip, looking up at him through your lashes as you swiped the precum away like you originally intended.

It was just as salty as you expected it to be, but you didn’t mind at all. You closed your eyes as you brought your tongue back into your mouth, pressing your lips together and swallowing slowly as you allowed the taste of him to burn down your throat.

“You taste just as good as you look.” You commented seductively, pressing a chaste kiss to his cock head and swirling your tongue around it once more before you began to spread your lips over the expanse of his cock.

Now, you’d definitely had your experience with this sort of thing once or twice before, but Jungkook was big, and there was no way you were fitting your pretty mouth over all of him, no matter how desperately you wanted to. As much as you were dying to get all of him in your mouth, for your own safety and wellbeing, you opted to use your hand to continue to apply some relief to what you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth.

“Oh, shit. That’s so good, baby.” You weren’t sure if he was just in the moment, but your heart fluttered a bit at the pet name.

You hollowed your cheeks as you struggled to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged a handful of times, but Jungkook didn’t seem to mind. He even pulled all of your hair into his hands, using it as a sort of makeshift leash as he pushed you further down onto his cock, wanting to hear you gag on him again.

You worked quickly with your mouth, alternating the flicks of your wrists with your hand to keep Jungkook guessing. He had pressed his weight fully against the wall behind him, his leg twitching occasionally whenever you ‘accidentally’ dragged your teeth along the underside of his dick, not enough to cause any real harm, just enough to ignite a spark.

“Oh my God…” He whimpered.

You did yourself the favor of looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full, your pussy spasming at the sight. His mouth was hung open in a silent moan, his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure, and a few of his sweaty black locks were stuck to his forehead. You figured you could make him cum just like this, but you’d rather be his personal cumbucket. Was it a bit selfish? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. He looked absolutely delectable above you.

He cracked his eyes open just as you slid his cock out of your mouth, gathering up the saliva that built up while your lips were stretched around him and spitting it back out onto his manhood. You were deliberately slow with this, wanting him to feel it the moment it made contact with his head. You watched his face as your saliva spilled down onto his shaft, using this as lubrication as you continued to pump your fist against him.

You sank down further onto your knees, only able to give his balls a few licks with your tongue, and a short lived massage before you were yanked backward, head first. Your immediate reaction to this was a rough squeeze to his cock, since it was the only thing in your grasp at the moment. You let out a strangled groan as he clenched his jaw while looking down at you, cock standing at attention as he debated his next movement.

“Get the fuck up.” He commanded you, although he pulled you up off of the ground by the grip he had on your hair on his own.

He pressed your back to his chest, ensuring you felt every ripple of his muscles pressed against your naked skin. Making a path with his hand from your stomach, in between your breasts, then finally to your neck, he held you firmly against him, so you had no space between your flushed bodies. You felt every rise and fall of his toned chest, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

“I’m going to bend you over that desk there, alright?” He whispered into your ear, his cool breath fanning over your cheek as you nodded eagerly, just wanting him to follow through with his plan instead of telling you the process. After all, actions do speak louder than words.

“When I let you go, I want you to walk over there like a good little slut and bend over. Flip that skirt up and show me your cunt. Can you do that for me?” You felt his cock twitch against your inner thigh, and you nodded again with a quiet moan.

“Go.” He let you go with one word, watching you swiftly walk over toward the desk as he took his length in his right hand and stroked it quickly while approaching you with loud, threatening footsteps.

You weren’t sure how that was possible since he didn’t have shoes on, but it only excited you further. You complied with his orders easily, pressing your cheek against the cold surface of the desk. You hiked the skirt up a bit around your waist and wiggled your ass teasingly as you waited for him to come ravage you.

“You’re cute, but you’re so annoying.” He grunted from behind you, slapping both of your ass cheeks with his heavy hands, massaging them afterward before delivering two more harsh slaps.

“You work me up in front of a room full of people, and then try to collect your stuff afterward as if you weren’t practically begging me to use you? Bullshit.” He spanked your ass again, relishing in the way you hissed after every hit and gripped the edge of the desk tighter.

“I’m going to make a mess out of you, you know that?” He pressed his chest against your back, pushing his weight onto you as he whispered into your ear.

You nodded, his eyes scanning over the expanse of your back as his long fingers momentarily kneaded your muscles.

“What’re you waiting for, then?” You quipped, although your voice sounded a bit flat because of Jungkook’s body weight. He laughed as he pulled himself up off of you.

Silently, he grabbed his cock and lined it up with your pussy as he pressed the head against your tight hole. You moaned at this, inhaling sharply as he just barely slipped himself inside of you. You whimpered in defeat as he pulled out quickly afterward, not wanting to give you the time to savor the feeling of being stretched out by his length.

“I swear, if you wait any longer then I’m going to fuck myself on your dick.” You threatened shakily, to which he smirked at.

“Is that so?” He let go of his cock. “Be my guest, then.” He shrugged, although you couldn’t see him.

You turned around swiftly, beyond irritated at whatever game he was trying to play. You were turned on, and you wanted to be fucked silly, but he was acting like a brat.

“You know what? Fine, I will.” You challenged, looking over your shoulder at him to see the intrigued smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes, roughly grabbing his cock and pushing yourself back onto him hastily. Jungkook disapproved of this, landing a sharp slap to your right ass cheek he gripped your hips roughly. He held you securely, preventing you from sliding back any further onto his cock.

“You’d better slow down, sweetheart.” He warned shakily, his nails leaving small imprints on your skin as he moved his hands down to your ass. “I haven’t cum yet, and your little hole is so inviting.”

You gulped, although something about his threat to cum inside of you was one step closer to pushing you over the edge.

“Take it slowly. Take me in slowly, so I can feel you.” With this he let go of your ass, watching with lidded eyes as your arousal coated more than half of his manhood.

He licked his lips at this, loving the way your juices spilled onto him, and onto the desk. Perhaps he’d make you lick his cock clean afterwards. That’d be a sight to see.

Your hips stuttered before you could take the last few inches, which sent a gigantic boost to Jungkook’s ego. Of course, he knew he was big, but something about seeing you struggle to take him in fully even after you talked all of that shit previously was egging him on.

“You at your limit, baby?” He mocked you, and as soon as you tried to respond, your voice cracked.

He hummed, chuckling slightly as he slid his hands up from your ass to your back, scratching his stubby nails at your flesh before threading his fingers in your hair once more. He roughly yanked your head back with a malicious smile. Your body jolted at this, which sent the rest of his cock plunging into you in one go.

“God, that’s fucking it. Look at you, swallowing Daddy’s dick like a good girl. You look so pretty stuffed full like this.” You were incomprehensive, your entire being filled with thoughts of Jungkook pummeling your pussy out of existence.

“Not so eager to use that fucking mouth now, are you? Hm?” He asked, pulling your head back a bit further.

Your back was so arched that you could see the ceiling and a bit of his face, and this new position made it so much easier for his cock to brush against that spot that made you a mumbling mess.

“You should be ashamed, really.” He said, dropping his head down to look at your ass as he slowly began to work his hips against it. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?” You were taking him so well, but he couldn’t let his unbothered persona falter just yet.

“Well?” He let go of your hair, and you immediately dropped your head forward, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you struggled to hold yourself up on your elbows while he ruthlessly fucked you.

“You’re s-so fucking big.” You mumbled pathetically, causing Jungkook to twitch inside of you.

“I know. You like Daddy’s big fat cock inside that tight little pussy. Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good you feel.” He pushed one of his hands down against your back, silently telling you to press your breasts against the desk. You obeyed, hissing as your nipples hardened instantly after making contact with the cool surface.

“I like—o-oh, oh shit.” Your jaw fell slack as Jungkook began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, his expert hips moving with such sharpness that you could feel it each time he pulled back a bit to fuck himself into you again. Although you didn’t do what he asked of you, he didn’t pressure you any further, his only goal to use you as his cute little cocksleeve.

“Spread your legs for me.” You immediately moved to follow his request, unable to balance yourself on your feet now. This was no problem, as Jungkook easily took a secure grip around your waist to keep you pressed against the desk.

“You feel so good around me like that, oh shit.” Jungkook whimpered, his tongue hanging out of his mouth slightly as he jabbed his fingers into your sides and pulled you onto the tips of your toes. You were startled at the sudden change, although it allowed for him to drive deeper inside of you.

“Put your hands on the edge of the desk now. Do it right fucking now.” He growled like some sort of feral animal. You scurried to follow his orders, just as he began to slam his cock so powerfully inside of your cunt that your hips banged against the metal desk with every other thrust, and you knew there would be bruises.

“F-fuck!” You screamed, and Jungkook responded quickly by throwing his hand messily over your mouth to quiet your moans.

“Shh, Y/N. We can’t let you get caught being a little slut.” He chuckled breathlessly, short moans and growls leaving the back of his throat as he continued to piston his hips in and out of you, your ass slapping against his abdomen every time the two of you connected. You were teetering over the edge, desperately wanting to lose control underneath him.

“I’m cumming, I’m gonna c—JUNGKOOK!” You yelled out in frustration as he slipped his cock out of you.

He grunted, pushing some of the clutter on the desk away before picking you up and setting you on top of it, so he could see your face.

“One,” He said, his voice raspy which caused you to shiver, “You’re not cumming unless I get to see your face when you do. Two,” He continued, slipping himself back into you with ease due to how fucking soaked you were, “You’re not cumming until you beg for it.” He reached for one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, gripping onto it as he sustained the rapid pace of his manhood plunging into your inviting heat.

“I-I wanna cum, Daddy.” You whispered in defeat, a twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes as he was beginning to finally get you where he wanted you. You weren’t begging just yet, though, which was unfortunate for you because you wouldn’t get an orgasm, and Jungkook was going to cum inside you either way.

“You do, Princess?” He whispered back, still holding your leg while his other hand moved to the back of your head. He pressed your forehead against his, your noses bumping as Jungkook fucked you. You nodded, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes at having to hold your orgasm back.

“You aren’t begging for me, baby. Beg me to give you permission to cum on this dick.” You cried out weakly, knowing that you’d have to give in to his rules in order to achieve that sweet release. It was right in the tip of your tongue.

You placed your arms around his neck, hanging them there loosely as you gazed into his eyes, which were full of lust and carnal desire.

“Can I cum o-on your c-cock—a-ah!” You failed miserably to finish your sentence, as Jungkook began pistoning his cock inside of your cunt with such force that the desk began to screech against the ground a bit, knocking at one of the metal racks behind it.

“I’m so close to cumming, pretty girl. Talk fast.” He warned, thrusts quickly becoming unorganized. You nodded.

“Please let me cum! I-Iv’e learned my lesson, I swear I have! I’m so close Jungkook, p-please!” He grunted his approval, nodding once and delivering about a dozen more thrusts before he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there as he began to shoot rope after rope of his cum deep inside of your greedy cunt.

You came with him, your body tensing up for a few moments before your release smacked you like a bus, heavy and unapologetic. Due to the wild fuckfest the two of you had, though, a few utensils hit the ground, and a can of paint was wobbling on the edge of the rack that the desk was smashing against a few seconds ago. Jungkook finally lifted his head up, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He placed one final kiss to your forehead before locking eye contact with you.

“I know for a fact that was the best fuck of your life.” You laughed, shaking your head at the fact that his cocky attitude would never settle. Not even after using up (what you assumed was) all of his stamina.

You didn’t mind it, though. In fact, you were starting to grow fond of it.

“It certainly was, but look at all the—“

The can of paint gave way to the pull of gravity, and tumbled to the ground with a deafening crack, the contents of the can flying out and splattering directly onto you and Jungkook. You knew what it was as soon as it hit your skin, and you immediately wondered why someone would leave a damn can of open paint on the top shelf.

It was brief, a big splash, so neither of you really had time to react to it. When you finally lifted your head up, Jungkook’s chest was covered in black paint, as were your legs and skirt. Seriously, the one fucking day you decide to wear pink?

“—Mess. Look at all the mess.” You finished your sentence with a giggle, thankful that you kept towels in the room during your classes. It’d never come out of your skirt, but at least you could wipe it off of your skin.

Your gaze met Jungkooks and you both burst out in a fit of giggles. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the polar opposite of the domineering man who’d just rocked your world minutes before. This Jungkook was soft, open, lighter. His laughter was the most beautiful melody that had ever graced your ears and you wouldn’t have minded listening to it for a very long time. His joy was contagious, and you couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading across your lips as he wrapped his arms around you in a playful hug.

Though his touch still sent electricity through you, this was different. It was sweet and gentle. You let yourself melt in his embrace, drinking in the way he made you feel so secure, so wanted. You sighed happily. You grinned mischievously then, collecting some of the paint off of the surface of the desk and wiping a thick stripe of it across his cheek. He froze in shock then glared at you, a hint of a smile playing on those gorgeous lips.

He reached out to grab you, but you were too fast, shrieking in delight as you ran away from him. Jungkook chased you around the small art studio, his laughter floating through the air like your favorite song. His arms snaked around you and he pulled you close, rubbing his cheek against yours to spread the paint over your skin. Your giggles dissolved as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

Pulling away and placing a peck on his nose, you began pulling your clothes back on. Jungkook watched you, admiring the way your body moved, how much sweeter you were once your attitude had been properly taken care of. You smiled at him over your shoulder, and he couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever seen such a beautiful smile on any other woman. He couldn’t recall seeing another woman who even compared to you.

Then realization brought a similar smile onto his own lips, and Jungkook thought to himself, that he just might have found the one.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk

2K notes · View notes

mccoymccoymccoy · 4 years ago

Text

Riker - No Drinks

A/N I KNOW a shift on enterprise d wouldn’t end at 1900 yes i looked at the shift times but… it’s my story and i wanted you to get off at 1900 so for god’s sake you’re getting off at 1900.

Edit: forgot ten forward doors slide open LOL changed that line.

Word count: 2399

“Doctor!”

You spun on your heel away from the ensign you were advising, snapping to attention to greet your commanding officer. You had to try really hard not to be too casual- Riker had such a friendly face and demeanor. It may be okay for him to be casual with his crew, he’s earned it, but you’re not commanding officer. You’re the head of the science department.

“Yes, sir?” You replied, meeting his eyes. He smiled. “Ease up, Doc. I was just coming to ask if you’d care to head over to Ten Forward after your shift for a drink.”

Huh? Why would he want to get a drink with you? He’s your superior officer, as you just reminded yourself. You did recognize that being the head of the science department aboard a galaxy class ship was a pretty big deal, but your self esteem had never been that high, and you tended to greatly overlook your worth. Taking a second to add that to the equation to solve the question of why would he ask me why would he ask me, you concluded that he may want to learn more about what’s going on in your department. Maybe he’s interested in the specs of the volcanic rock you had him beam aboard for you and your team to study the other day. This all ran through your head at the speed of a blink, and you responded, “Of course, sir. I’ll be off at 1900, will that be okay?” He grinned. “Great. I’ll see you there, then.”

“Aye, sir,” you finalized as he turned and walked back in the direction he came. Such a quick visit. Had he really waited for a peaceful minute in the bridge to run down to you? Why not use the comm? Sighing, you turned as well, facing the ensign once again who had started giggling by the end of the quick encounter- She saw how flustered you’d gotten, despite not showing it to the commander. Behind your back, however, the skin around your nails was being picked raw, all for the ensign to notice. You sighed again, this time at her, trying and failing to keep from smiling. “Hush, ensign. Let’s get back to the lab.”

The rest of the day seemed to slip away from you like the beaker from your hands earlier. You had zoned out, something incredibly unusual for you. But then again, it was incredibly unusual for the commanding officer of the ship to invite you out for a drink after work! Let alone one you already happened to find particularly intriguing and attractive! The beaker was empty, thankfully, but still a bit of a hassle to clean up. “I’m off,” you called from the doorway, nodding in the direction of the ensign from earlier. She giggled and waved you away, and you finally set out for Ten Forward.

Regardless of the actual temperature, it always felt warm in there- it had such a positive atmosphere, as the only place people could truly relax most of the time. You entered quietly, trying to not disturb the dim and hum. Guinan smiled at you warmly as you walked by, which you returned, of course. Wouldn’t be the same without her here. Looking back in front of you, you instantly spotted Commander Riker sitting at a table close by, a drink in hand and one waiting on the opposite side for you. He looked pretty like a statue sitting there, lit up from the glowing table. You swallowed hard and tried to shove those thoughts out of your head.

“Y/N! Hey. Glad you came, I was getting worried you wouldn’t show.”

You tried not to blush as you slipped your lab coat from your shoulders and onto the back of your chair as you sat down. “And disobey my commanding officer? I think not,” you laughed. His usual pep faded for a moment, face growing slightly solemn. “Is that how you see this?”

That damn equation started running through the halls of your minds again. Commander. Friend? Superior officer. Date? You looked down. “Well, sir, I thought maybe you had called me here to ask about how it’s going in my department. Did I think wrong?”

The smile returned to his face slightly, chuckling lightly before responding: “It’s not a work matter, Y/N. I was actually hoping to get to know you a little better, to be friends. I mean, if that includes talking about work, then that’s alright too, I just-” your chin tilted back up and to the side slightly, a confused look. “Friends?” So he did want to be friends? It makes sense, rationally. You were technically a very crucial person onboard, despite mostly keeping to yourself.

“Yes, friends. What’s wrong with that?” You looked down again. Friends. Friends!

“Nothing, sir, just surprised is all. I thought you only liked to hang out with your bridge crew.”

“I like to hang out with them because they’re there with me. If you had work on the bridge, I’d want to hang out with you. And hey, not at work. No ‘sir’. You can call me Will.”

The man emanated a warmth unlike one you’ve ever felt. You smiled at him, leaning back into your chair and finally taking your drink. You raised it to your mouth, but asked before sipping, “Alright then, Will. What were you hoping to learn about me?” He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, at a loss. God, that was hot. “Christ, Y/N, never made friends before? You act like this is an interrogation.”

“A little direction would be nice, sir-” you shook your head, smirking as you met his eyes. “Will.”

He smiled that ever-charming smile, and his eyes seemed to glitter with what could’ve been anything- curiosity, wonder, lust? It didn’t matter in the moment. Leaning back, holding his glass by the rim, his voice suddenly seemed to be the only one in the room. “Okay then, how about this: What are you doing here? Why did you join Starfleet?”

Once he had gotten you talking, the only was he could shut you up was to talk in return and tell you about himself. The two of you continued like that for a couple hours until yawns started to invade every sentence, and Will had decided it best you called it a night. It was so exciting, you didn’t expect him to be so interesting! Cool, of course, but not all cool people are interesting. Will Riker was cool and interesting, and damn good-looking to boot. He had asked you all about what went on in the labs on a daily basis- considering he practically runs the ship, he did already know what happens, but he asked what you do specifically. On a daily basis, for fun, as challenges. He asked what places have been your favourite to visit, or rather maybe, get samples to study from. He asked what makes you tick and what unwinds you. Beyond that, he answered every one of his own questions and yours. You knew how he’d been offered his own ship but passed it up to stay here. You knew about how he loved jazz and played trombone and piano. You knew about how cunning he had grown to be in poker, how he’d outwit everyone at the table in the weekly matches, and even taught classes on it.

The door to your quarters slid open, and as soon as you stepped inside you leaned back against the wall. How could you get so tired from just talking? It was late, sure, but you spent extra hours in the lab all the time. Maybe because of the dim lighting in Ten Forward? Or, more likely, the synthehol he seemed to be pumping into you. Perhaps he forgot he was a walking fridge, and you were not. You exhaled heavily, doing your best to take off your shoes and drag yourself to bed, and as soon as you got there it was as if you’d been hit by a tranquilizer.

Many, many hours later- unknown to you, sleeping- the door chirped. It was well past your shift start, and someone seemed to have taken it upon themself to go check on you. The door chirped again, and was followed by a couple quick knocks. Met with no response, the knocker came in- what if you were hurt? Better to be safe and check, right?

Riker entered your room. Over his arm was your lab coat, which you’d left in Ten Forward the night before by accident. Stepping cautiously, he said softly: “Hello? It’s Will.” He placed the jacket over the back of a chair at your table. “Y/N?” He called out, louder this time. You rustled-

OW. You were instantly met with the signature hangover headache, cringing and scrunching your nose in pain. Hissing, you squinted at the door arch of your room, and slid off the side of your bed. Riker looked in the doorway and saw you, shuffling towards him, messy haired and wrinkly-clothed, and smiled. Huh? What’s the commanding officer doing in your quarters?

“Oh no. Back to bed with you,” he said gently. What? You did your best to stand up straight while running a hand through your hair. “Commander. What are you doing here?” A pained groan escaped despite your best efforts to appear alright. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently hold onto your arms to make sure you stayed upright. His eyes didn’t lock onto you anywhere, rather flickered all around your face as if scanning you. He looked at you thoughtfully, and responded, “You left your coat on your chair last night, I came to bring it back. You didn’t answer the door so I, and excuse me, let myself in to make sure you were okay. You’re not. Go back to sleep, Y/N.” He half guided, half pushed you back to sitting on your bed. “I’m not fine, but I’ve been worse. I’ve got to get to the lab now, probably. What time is it?” Your head was in your hands at this point. Will was walking away from you, and it made you sad for some reason- you wanted him near you. You didn’t know until he had been, but now you did.

“You’re not going to work, Doctor. You’ve got the day off today.” Your eyes darted up and you opened your mouth to object, but he cut you off right as your face twisted with pain- “My orders. Lay down.” Figuring you may as well take the opportunity, you complied. He walked back over with a hypospray and used it on you, causing the pain to almost entirely disappear immediately. You closed your eyes to enjoy the relief for a moment, and felt the bed dip next to you. Your eyes flitted open, and Riker was sitting there on the edge smiling, reaching out and petting your hair. “Commander? What are you doing?” His smile dropped slightly. “How much of last night do you remember?”

You closed your eyes again. You went to the bar. You talked. You had a drink. You had another drink, and another. Rubbing your temples, you sighed. “I remember drinking, but that’s obvious. I remember talking. Laughing. You were very pleasant, as far as I can tell. What happened?” He shifted on the bed, facing you better. “We really got to know each other, Y/N. And for that I’m glad. But if you can’t remember, I’d be more than willing to give it another go.”

His eyes had an unexplainable sort of glitter to them, as if he was really excited about what he was saying. Oh man, what did you say? You knew your headache would come back if you thought about it too hard, so you asked: “Sir, did I say anything I should know about?”

His features softened yet again, a seemingly impossible feat. He moved his hand from the crook of your neck to reach down and hold one of your hands, which in your groggy, sore state, confused you even more. “Well,” he started, barely above a whisper, “you did agree to call me Will now. And then we talked for hours. And…” He trailed off, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb. His hands were a lot bigger than yours, and it provided a sort of comfort you wouldn’t have been able to explain if asked.

“And?”

“And, well, you said you thought you might love me.”

“I think I could.” It slipped out. Your eyes widened immediately, and you felt your face flush what was probably a deeper red than his shirt. It just slipped out! You barely knew him! Tearing your hand away from his, you brought both of them up to cover your face. “I’m sorry sir, that just slipped out, I, I’m sure it’s the headache, I-” He chuckled softly, and you peeked through your fingers. “Huh?”

“You’re adorable, you know that?” You stopped peeking and blushed harder.

“Hey.” He gently took your hands away from your face and held them both, tightly this time. “I think I might love you too.”

“Sir, er- Will,” you corrected, trying to look anywhere but him, “I hate to be frank, but we barely know each other, At least, I don’t remember getting to know you very well. Love is entirely the wrong word. Sure I like you, but one night isn’t much to go off of, and you’re my superior officer, and-”

And he kissed you. Still holding your hands, he brought them close to his chest, and pressed against you ever so slightly. He pulled away, once again smiling down at you, and once again presenting a whole new level of what now appeared to be love. “Everything’s alright. People date for a reason, right? To get to know each other and see if they’re a good fit?” You nodded, doe eyed and starstruck. “Well, Y/N. Would you care to head over to Ten Forward for a date tomorrow?” He had mimicked his initial invitation. You nodded again, grinning, still in a bit of a shock over all of this. He returned your grin and ruffled your hair before standing up and turning to leave.

You grabbed his hand- “No drinks this time though, yeah?”

“No drinks.”

#Riker x reader #will riker #william riker #william t. riker #star trek #star trek x reader #will riker x reader #will riker imagine #william riker imagine #riker imagine #star trek imagine

84 notes · View notes

joel-millerr · 4 years ago

Text

The Change

Chaper Two of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9 K

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence. there is a scene towards the end that isn't exactly torture, but it is pretty graphic so please read with caution!, a bit of angst, and grief (talking about loss).... if there’s anything I missed please let me know so I can update it

Summary: You and Mando on your way to Nevarro so he can collect the bounty on your head but something happens, forcing you to land on another planet, and you begin seeing him in another light

Hope you guys like it!!

Tagged: @1800-fight-me🧡 // @tillytheslytherin🧡

As the Mandalorian’s ship—Razor Crest, climbs higher and higher into the sky, the sun’s beginning to rise over the city. Taking one last look at the capital, you mentally add “getting snatched by a bounty hunter” to the list of things you hate about Kijimi.

Maker, the silence in the cockpit is deafening. The Mandalorian doesn’t acknowledge you at all, his helmet glued to the windshield of the ship. You think about saying something, anything to break the awkward tension that seems to be multiplying in the small area of the cockpit, but from the very short time you’ve been with him, you don’t get the impression that he likes to talk. So awkward silence it is.

Once in the atmosphere, the Mandalorian prepares to make the jump to hyperspace. The stars’ light twinkles off his chrome helmet, and you’re too busy staring at him to notice another ship zip across the windshield, and then within seconds, the radar’s alarm is blaring through the cockpit. The shrill sound is piercing your ears and your eyes wrench shut, as if to try to block the noise out.

Two green beams of light appear out of nowhere, skimming the ship’s hull, and as the enemy spacecraft comes back into your peripheral for just a few seconds, your jaw nearly drops to the floor when you recognize whose ship it is.

It’s your ship. Someone is inside your ship, shooting at you. “That’s my ship!” You shriek, jumping to your feet and quickly making your way to the window. The Mandalorian says nothing in response, just letting out a couple of grunts and huffs. Your ship continues to bombard you with green beams, but the hunter is sharp enough to evade each shot. The jolts cause you to lose balance, and because your hands are still bound, it becomes more difficult for you to keep yourself upright without falling over onto the control panel.

“Get back in your seat,” The Mandalorian says through his visor. His voice is calm but stern. If he was panicking at all, his voice doesn’t give you the slightest suspicion.

You open your mouth to protest, to beg him not to shoot your ship down, to plead with him, but you know it would be a battle you couldn’t possibly win. Fumbling back into the seat to his right, a shot narrowly misses one of the thrusters and hits just above the belly of the ship. It sends you flying out of the seat, and you land on the ground hard, your shoulder taking the brute of the hit.

You hear two more blasts explode against the ship. The Crest is taking a lot of damage right now, but the Mandalorian manages to stay quiet during the entire ordeal.

“Let her go, Mandalorian.” A distorted voice comes through the radio.

Time seems to stop. The sirens still blaring through the cockpit penetrate your ears less and less until they are just a bunch of muffled clamors. That voice can only be from one person. The only other person in this galaxy that knows how to hijack your ship, and actually be able to fly it.

Tye.

Without any warning, the Crest begins a steep incline, and just as you’re finally able to seat yourself back in the chair, pulling the seatbelt across your torso and clicking it into place, the Crest flips upside down. If it weren’t for you being strapped in, you’d be flailing around the cockpit. The ship does a full circle before straightening out right behind your ship. The Mandalorian begins firing, three shots immediately pierce the hull’s integrity. The dark nothingness of space is suddenly luminated by a giant inferno; your ship begins plummeting back down towards Kijimi. You want to scream, to rush over to the pilot’s seat and scream into the radio hoping Tye would respond, but your body feels weighed down, like your limbs refuse to work.

As you watch your ship plummet towards the city, life drains from your body. For a moment, everything is still and fast at the same time. You had come to terms with your fate, you aren’t an optimist—not anymore anyway, but when you saw your ship, a flame—no, a glint of hope started to build in your bones. Maybe the Maker was giving you another chance. You were dead wrong.

Once the blaring alarm quiets, the Mandalorian initiates the jump sequence. The whole thing is over within minutes.

The Crest doesn’t spend much time in hyperspace though, because now the hyperdrive alarm is blaring again and you’re both launched right out, the ship spiraling in open atmosphere. The Mandalorian swears under his breath and begins frantically pressing buttons in an attempt to get you back into hyperspace. Despite his efforts, he’s unable to make the jump.

“Dank farrik,” The vocoder comes out strained.

“One of the shots must have damaged the hyperdrive.” You find yourself saying.

“Yes.” Is all you get.

He changes course and begins descending towards a planet you’ve never seen before. From space, the planet looks mostly swamp green, nothing particularly breathtaking or enticing.

“What is that?” You’re not really expecting an answer, just asking out loud, and you’re surprised because he actually answers you this time.

“Sorgan.”

You’ve heard of Sorgan. Some of your crew had resided on the planet since there was a spice smuggling base located there. Given the fact that Sorgan was a relatively unobtrusive planet, it was smart idea to put a camp. It was mostly covered in thick, dense forest which enabled the camp to be hidden fairly easily. Landing on Sorgan was a blessing in disguise. You could possibly send a message to the base there and maybe, just maybe, get rescued. Almost immediately you could feel excitement tingle your nerves. Okay, maybe you hadn’t lost.

Entering Sorgan airspace, the Mandalorian searches for a forest glade. It doesn’t take long for him to spot a small clearing just at the edge of a foliage of massive pine. He descends slowly, making sure not to hit any trees on the way down. You can’t help but be impressed by his flying abilities. He pilots like it is second nature to him. Always maintaining his cool demeanor, even if he is being shot at. Despite the fact that you resent him for possibly murdering the only person left you considered family and stealing your freedom, that aviator part of you is enthralled by the Mandalorian.

Once firmly landed, he cuts the engine and steps out of his seat.

“Stay here,” His voice is as deep as ever, not bothering to meet your eyes as he walks through the door to the cockpit and begins to descend down the ladder.

You linger in your chair for a few minutes, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. You’re not sure how much time you might have to send a message to your fellow smugglers, but you also don’t want to waste any more time waiting on him to come back. Fumbling slightly with your seatbelt, you all but leap towards the pilot’s chair to get to the radio. You finger toggles over the button to record your message. Why are you hesitating?

Chewing on your lip, and letting a deep breath exhale through your nose, you fight the urge to retreat back in your seat. Just as you’re about to record, you hear footsteps on the ladder behind you.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuck,” you curse under your breath and you scramble to get back to your seat without the Mandalorian seeing you. You hear his boots hit the metal floor just as your butt hits the chair. The beskar helmet peaks through the doorway of the cockpit as if he’s just checking to see if you followed his orders.

“No, I haven’t moved,” you say to him, annoyingly.

“Come down.” He instructs, turning on his heel and already making his way down the rungs of the ladder.

“Why?”

The Mandalorian stops in his tracks, “Because I can’t keep an eye on you if you’re in the cockpit.”

You really don’t want to go down there. Not because you’re scared he’ll throw your ass in carbonite, but because if he gets you down there, you’ll have no reason to get back up here and send out a message to any smuggler who might want to help you.

“You can trust me.” It’s a desperate attempt. Usually you can use your charm to bend others to your will, but the Mandalorian is unlike anyone you’ve ever met. You already know it won’t work.

“No.”

Pressing your hands down on your knees, you push yourself to your feet. You eye the control panel one last time and actually consider locking yourself in the bridge just long enough to get a message out. While the idea becomes more and more tempting by the second, you need to be smart about this. If you plan on escaping or getting a message out, it has to be perfectly timed and planned. It didn’t take him long to catch you, and you need to be a lot smarter the next time around.

So you head down the ladder like he told you to. The ramp is down, and your feet irk to run down the ridge and escape into the lush forest in front of you. Every instinct inside of you is screaming to run, to take your chances and hope to lose him in the fog of the greenery, but you have no idea where you are on this planet. You have no idea if the camp is relatively close to you or not. If you ran now, you’d have no supplies, no sense of direction, never mind the fact that your hands are still bound.

First things first then; get him to release the shackles.

He’s currently inspecting the damage Tye inflicted on the Crest. The hull of the ship is smoking, and there’s a few new dents on the sides of the ship, but there isn’t any damage that a couple days’ worth of work wouldn’t be able to fix. Luckily for you, that gives you a couple days to think of the best way to take off.

Not entirely sure where to go, you stay by the ladder, standing like an awkward kid waiting to be told what to do.

The Crest is much bigger than you thought it was. Most of the space inside the ship is housing the carbonite chamber with the three other companions you’re convinced you’ll end up joining. Next to the chamber is what you assume is a locker full of armory. You make a mental note to raid that locker before your escape. To your left, there’s a narrow, small cubicle that could only be used for sleep. Even though the door is closed, you can tell that it’s already too cramped for the Mandalorian, and you wonder how he can fit in such a tiny space.

Honestly, you’re more concerned about whether or not he’s ever had anyone in there with him. Surely if the space is too small for him, then he couldn’t possibly have had any lovers in there with him, right? Heat begins to coil in your stomach and the thought of that makes you shift in your stance. You really shouldn’t be thinking of whether or not the Mandalorian’s fucked anybody in his poor excuse of a bed, but you can’t help yourself. It’s been a long time since you’ve had the pleasure of being with a man or even taken care of yourself and it doesn’t help that the Mandalorian exudes this ferocious confidence and control. Does that make you wonder if he’d still as controlling when he’s balls deep inside you? Would be still be quiet like he is now, or would he be a babbling mess?

“Hey.” The voice pulls you out of your thoughts and causes you to jump.

The Mandalorian is standing just arms distance away from you, and stars, he is an absolute sight. Built like a monument—tall, firm and fucking intimidating. In your everyday life, you always walked with your head held high, refusing to show any weakness, but right now? Your head is down, only peering up at him through hooded lids. Something about the Mandalorian scratches a primal instinct in you that you’ve only observed in animals. Predator, prey—you’re giving up control, and what’s worse is that you actually like it. When it came to lovers, you had always been the dominant one. Every run you’ve made since you can remember, you were the one calling the shots, ordering your comrades around, but in the very short time you’ve known the Mandalorian, you can tell he likes control, and order.

You should hate him. You shouldn’t feel this kind of attraction for him, but despite your efforts, it’s there. You areattracted to him—he basically owns you now; it definitely shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does.

“Sorry?” You manage to choke out. Your throat is bone dry and Maker, you swear if he was any closer, he’d be able to hear your heart fucking hammering in your chest. His gloved hand reaches out and grabs the binds on your wrists. It’s not even his fucking bare hand but it has you holding back a moan. You wrench your eyes shut hoping it will alleviate some of the tension building between your legs.

“I’m going to unbind you,” The voice behind the helmet begins to say. “But if you run, I will catch you again and I won’t hesitate to throw your ass in carbonite. Do you understand?” It comes our breathy, almost like being this close to you is affecting him the same way it’s affecting you.

You can’t find any words, now. All you can do is nod slowly because your mind is on fucking fire being this close to him and you want to rip off that helmet and crush your lips together but also you want to drop to your fucking knees and show him how much he’s affecting you.

The grip on your wrists relaxes and he’s taking the binds and tossing them to the floor of the ship. You continue to stand just a few feet from each other. The visor is too dark to make out his eyes, and you curse the Maker for it. You’ve heard stories about Mandalorians. How they never take off their helmets in front of others, how they swear to the Creed to live a life of anonymity. You couldn’t possibly imagine living that way. It sounds incredibly restricting, but you do respect it. Everyone has their own beliefs in this world, and you aren’t one to judge another for the path they’ve chosen. Look at yourself, you were a nobody mechanic and then you became a spice smuggler. The path you’ve chosen isn’t exactly noble, so who are you to judge how the Mandalorians choose to live their lives?

It takes you a couple of seconds to realize he’s no inches away from your face. He’s halfway down the ramp when he calls you.

“Let’s go.”

You stumble for a couple steps and then pick up a small jog to catch up with him. The walk is a little uncomfortable now due to the slickness between your thighs, but you push through it.

“Where are we going?” You ask once you’re by his side. You look up at him but when he answers you, he keeps his attention peeled to the landscape in front of him.

“The hyperdrive was damaged.” His strides are much larger than yours, and you need to trot to keep up the pace. “I saw a town not too far from here. Hopefully there’ll be someone there that can help.”

You spot the town—barely a town, it’s just a couple of huts and then a bigger one at the centre. You wonder how anyone would choose to live here. It’s too quiet, too uneventful. There are a couple merchants selling krill—you know Sorgan exports a lot of krill and is basically the only way farmers make a living here.

You enter the common house—maybe it’s an inn, you’re not entirely sure. It’s nothing like the cantinas on Kijimi or Tatooine or any of the other planets you’ve visited. It’s ridiculously quiet and charming. There aren’t any patrons playing sabacc and screaming at one another when one of them loses, or others getting incredibly intoxicated on spotchka and brawling on the floor of the bar. Just a couple of humble farmers, some making a pit spot, and other locals keeping to themselves. It’s refreshing and also unnerving. You’re used to the commotion of more lively planet cantinas, staying in the shadows and observing, making sure you’d be ready in case someone tried to pick a fight with you. There’s no need for that here. Not only does everyone in this place look completely harmless, but you’ve also got a fucking Mandalorian on your left, and you doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try to fight him.

Unlike your choice to sit in the back of the common house, the Mandalorian chooses a table smack in the middle of the room. That’s the difference between a Mandalorian and a smuggler. You would rather choose a quiet place to sit, not drawing any attention to yourself. He—on the other hand, doesn’t put that much thought into where they should sit. Smugglers are always being hunted. Mandalorians? No one wants to fight them.

Once seated, you tense immediately. There are voices behind you, and not being able to keep track of what they’re saying, or if they move really distresses you. Granted, you doubt anyone here has a mean bone in their body, but you stay on edge regardless.

One of the women behind the counter takes notice of your arrival. Patting her hands clean on her apron, she walks over to you.

“Can I interest you in anything, travelers?” She asks, all smiles.

Her immediate kindness puts you at ease—slightly.

Before you can ask for some spotchka, the Mandalorian’s vocoder cuts through the helmet.

“Is there anyone here that can repair a ship?”

Her brows pull together tightly, pressing a finger to her chin. “Hmm… I’m afraid you’re out of luck. Sorgan is a farming planet, and we don’t get many visitors around here.”

He sighs, and you peek down from the woman standing over you to see his fist ball up on the table. “Fine.” It comes out strained, like it’s taking all his strength not to blow up and scream.

“Would you like anything else?” She asks again. “Maybe something for you, ma’am?” Shifting her body to face you, you open your mouth to answer, but the Mandalorian speaks first. “No, thank you.”

You whip your head to face him. You may be a quarry, but you still have some rights.

“Actually,” You point out, still looking at the helmet that burns right into you. “I’d like a bottle of your finest spotchka, please.”

He tilts his head just enough for you to notice, fist still balled up on the table. The lady seems to take notice of the tension, but she says nothing further. She simply nods and retreats to the bar. Returning swiftly with a bottle in one hand—two cups in the other, she places them between you two. You reach into the side thigh pocket of your pants and pull out a handful of credits and place them in her hand. She nods in gratitude. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

“Thank you.” The hunter grits through his teeth.

Immediately you pour yourself a glass and throw it back, a couple droplets leaking from the corners of your mouth. Using the back of your hand, you wipe your mouth clean. You know you’ll probably regret the little stunt you just pulled, but it’s been a long fucking day and you just want to relax for a bit.

Okay, so maybe you’re not entirely relaxed because there’s a Mandalorian just a few feet away from that seems to be getting more and more cross the longer you stay in the common house, but you also want to see how far you can press him before he snaps. Besides, he shot down your ship. You deserve this.

Three more glasses of spotchka later, and you’re feeling warm inside. The kind of warm that lowers your defenses and makes you giggle at everything. The kind of warmth that releases the tension that’s nestled in the deepest corners of your body, and makes your vision a little fuzzy. It’s probably early evening now, because the common house is getting livelier. They must be coming in for a meal.

“Get up,” The Mandalorian orders, rising to his feet.

“So soon?” You pout. You’re definitely feeling the effects of the spotchka.

“We’ve wasted enough time here. Now get up, we’re leaving.”

Normally, you’d fight till your last breath, but with the alcohol swimming in your blood, your inhibitions are lowered, and you’re way too relaxed to actually get your brain to fight back. Besides, there’s barely any spotchka left and you don’t have any more credits to spend.

Getting to your feet is a little bit of a struggle. Once standing up, the room starts spinning. Not enough to completely knock you off balance, but enough to make it difficult to stand without swaying. Turning on his heel, the Mandalorian heads for the door, cape mimicking his movements. Your legs aren’t moving as fast as you’d like them too, and the spotchka is really getting to your head, now. You drank a lot more than you should have.

Luckily you’re able to catch up to him, somewhat out of breath though. He doesn’t say anything to you—no surprise there. As you stumble through the forest, there’s a gentle breeze in the air. Tree branches creak as the wind passes through, and stray hairs from your ponytail brush across your flushed cheeks. You’re too preoccupied with enjoying the clean, fresh air to notice he’s now a couple feet ahead of you. The cape attached to his armour flows in the gentle breeze. Stars, you’re completely captivated by him. By the way he carries himself, like there’s not a shred of self-doubt behind that armor, and you want to know everything about him. Now that you’re pretty drunk, the thoughts you pushed away can roam freely in your mind. When was the last time he took off that helmet? Why did he—a Mandalorian, decide to be a bounty hunter? How many quarries has he captured in his life? How old is he? Are Mandalorians allowed to have sex with non-Mandalorians? Your mind is coming up with an endless number of questions, but you never find the strength to ask.

“You know, you could have asked me to help with the ship,” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. The Mandalorian stops in his tracks and waits for you to catch up to him. Once you’re at his side, he turns his head to look in your direction.

“What?” Deep, rough, and somewhat irritable.

Your shoulders shoot up and down twice, body swaying with the breeze. “I’m a mechanic.”

“Yeah.” He says, brushing off yours words and resuming his tread.

“No, seriously.” Chasing after him, you want to reach out and grab hold of his arm, but you catch yourself before you do.

“Just how much spotchka did you drink?” He taunts, voice condensing like he’s scolding a child.

“I… don’t know.” Holy maker, did you drink an entire bottle to yourself?

The Mandalorian actually scoffs at you. If you could see his face, you’re certain he’d be rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, well I used to be.” You clarify, still struggling to keep up with his gigantic strides. Kriff how fast does he walk? “Can you just stop walking for a second, please?”

“No.”

You let out a loud, childish groan. At this point you basically have to run to keep up with the hunk of metal heading back to his ship.

“I used to repair ships with my father on Tatooine.” Your tone is breathy, your lungs trying to get as much fresh air as possible.

This makes him pause. Turning around, the ‘T’ of his visor looking directly at you. Stopping at arm’s-length away from him, you bend forward, hands resting on your knees. He gives you time to regulate your breathing.

“I can fix the hyperdrive. I’ve been doing it since I can remember.” You try to assure him. You don’t even know why you’re offering your help. The longer it takes to fix, the longer your freedom lasts, but the alcohol has made you soft, more accommodating. Seeming to come out of nowhere, your vision becomes extremely blurry. You swear there’s now two Mandalorians in front of you. Blinking profusely, your eyesight doesn’t clear. You feel like you’re floating while simultaneously being pulled to the ground. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you feel your limbs cave in, and everything gets dark.

The sound of crackling fire wakes you up. It must be late, because the fire is the only source of light. How did you get here? The last thing you remember was walking through thick forest with the Mandalorian and now you’re laying by a fire, back near the Crest. You can’t remember the last time you actually passed out from drinking so much. The spotchka here has to be stronger than any other time you’ve had it. You can handle your drink, and this is downright embarrassing.

Wait, did he actually carry you back to the ship? Despite the little stunt you pulled back at the common house? He could have easily thrown you into carbonite once you both got back to the ship and you wouldn’t have even known it, but for some reason, he chose not to. You want to ask him—to show your appreciation, but you hesitate. Maybe just letting it slide is the right course of action.

Propping yourself on your elbows, you see the Mandalorian sitting on an old, mossy stump. There’s something between his legs, but you can’t make out its features through the fire. Pushing yourself to your feet, you notice another stump just to your right. He must have put it there for you to sit once you woke up. You have a pounding headache, but the fire’s warmth helps a little.

You can now make out a few more details about the creature sat between the Mandalorian’s feet. It looks like a child, but you can’t be sure. Your eyes must be deceiving you because it appears to be green, the type of green you’ve only ever seen on the plains of Naboo.

Stars, its ears. They’re massive, just like its eyes. Your mouth curls into a smile. It’s adorable. You’ve never been partial to kids. There was never something inside of you that longed for a child, or to take care of one, but this little thing at the Mandalorian’s feet is making you rethink anything negative you’ve ever said about babies.

“What…is that?” You ask as you sit down on the stump he placed for you.

From the embers of the fire, you see the little thing’s eyes find you and it coos. Kriff, he’s so fucking cute.

“He’s a foundling.” Oh, so it’s a ‘he’.

You wait for him to explain, but the Mandalorian isn’t one to talk or elaborate unless directly addressed or absolutely necessary. Continuing to examine the child from a distance, it—no, he, is also looking at you, almost like he’s studying you as well.

“How did he come into your care?”

“He was a quarry,” His voice is quiet, the modulator distorting his tone to make it raspier than usual.

“You haven’t delivered him yet?”

Your eyes shift between the man in armor across the fire from you, and the small green alien-looking child between his legs. The Child’s head tilts from side to side as he watches you, the reflection of the flames glistening in his big black eyes.

“I did.” He deadpans and leaves you to fill in the rest of the blanks.

You want to bore him to death with questions. Why did he go back for him? Does this mean he’s its father? How does he plan to raise a child being a bounty hunter? Does that mean this kid will also become a Mandalorian?

None of these questions actually come out of your mouth, though. Given the circumstances, you don’t think the Mandalorian even has a clue what he’ll do, and it’s not really your place to bombard him with your curiosity.

So, maybe this Mandalorian was different from the stories you’ve heard—not that you’ve heard much honestly other than them being amazing killers, but if he went back for the Child, then maybe there was a soft, kind heart under all that beskar.

“I can do it.” Your voice is just loud enough for him to hear you. You continue to stare into the flames, waiting to see if he’ll respond. He doesn’t, but that’s fine with you.

You’re not entirely sure when you even fell asleep but when your eyes flutter open, you’re lying on the ground, back against the uneven terrain. Using the ground to push you up to your feet, you shake the dirt off your pants and begin stretching your back by twisting your torso until you hear a satisfying crack. Your mother used to scold you for cracking your back. “You’re going to hurt yourself one day,” she used to say. When you were a kid, you’d roll your eyes at her and then she’d give you a gentle but still stern slap across the arm, the kind of slap only a mother could get away with doing. You were never really one to listen to authority, so it’s a habit you never grew out of.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun is beaming down on your skin, not a single cloud in sight. Sorgan is quite breathtaking, really. On most planets, no matter where you are, you can hear the commotion of city centres or see ships coming in and out of the atmosphere. Not on Sorgan, though. The only sounds you’re able to make out are tress swaying in the breeze, and the occasional bellow of the beasts in the forest.

The sound of the Child startles you. He’s at your feet, little arms extending out to grasp the material of your trousers. When did he get here? You crouch down and wave your index finger at him, little coos emitting from the green baby. His three-fingered hand wraps around your finger. This warm calmness comes over you, putting you at ease. Untensing all your muscles, your aches disappear, and the only thing that exists is you and the Child. You close your eyes, completely giving into the stillness. Maker, you swear you can hear the Child say something. Your eyes are still closed, and you don’t actually hear him say anything, but he is. You hear it in your mind—It’s faint and muffled, and you have to focus all your energy into narrowing down what he’s saying, and then it becomes as clear as day.

Grogu.

“Good. You’re up.”

The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s headed straight for you, just as stoic as ever; the sun’s light ricocheting off the beskar. The Child’s grip slackens, and you straighten out to meet the Mandalorian’s gaze. Your breath hitches as he continues to make his way towards you. Something as simple as a walk shouldn’t make you feel the way it does, but you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. Shifting in your stance, you can’t help but notice the heat building in your lower abdomen. Stars, get a grip. He’s the enemy, you shouldn’t allow yourself to feel this.

Leaning over, he picks up the Child and holds him with one arm. Almost immediately, you observe the way the Child wraps his tiny hand around one of the Mandalorian’s gloved fingers. There’s no stopping the stupid, shit-eating grin that appears on your face.

“The hyperdrive.”

“Right.” You respond, the smile falls from your face and you stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. The Mandalorian turns his back to you and makes way for the Crest. You follow him like a lost puppy, keeping a couple feet distance between you and him.

Once inside, he sets the Child down on one of the cargo crates near the ladder leading up the cockpit. You head up the ladder first, and he quickly follows suit. To your left is a small cubby hole in the wall that accesses all the wiring to the hyperdrive. It’ll be a nightmare to crawl in and out of, but you offered your services to him, so you can’t turn back now.

“I’ll get straight to work, then.” Turning away from him, you crouch down to your knees to examine the damage. There are various wires that are disconnected and thrown around, smoke emitting from one of the panels hidden inside the wall, and looks just about as worse as it can get. You’ve never seen anything this bad, before. How the Kriff was he able to fly this ship in such a horrible state? You start by grabbing a blue and red wire that hang loosely off the wall. A bit of copper and aluminum cords are splitting at the end of the cable which makes you think they might have touched each other causing some kind short circuit. Shrugging off the idea, you start to work.

After working on the hyperdrive for a couple hours, you decide to take a break. Climbing down the ladder near the cockpit, there’s no sign of the Mandalorian or the Child. All of a sudden, you’re aware of how sticky your body feels. Dirty, grimy, and uncomfortable. Now would be the perfect time for a shower. You turn your head to the fresher behind you and consider taking one, but you don’t want to intrude. You’re still a quarry and you assume the Mandalorian wouldn’t appreciate you taking a shower in his refresher. On your walk to the common house yesterday, you had spotted a lake not too far away. Maybe you could take one there. Then again, if you were to venture off, he might think you’ve run off. Your eyes shift between the fresher and the outside.

“You can clean up in the fresher.” Despite his tone always been low and rough, it still startles you. You whip your neck to see the Mandalorian leaning against the wall of the ship. You swear he wasn’t there a second ago so to see him just a few metres away from you not only puzzles you, but sends immediate shockwaves to your cunt. You feel like you’re being stalked, and it shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. The Mandalorian is built like a goddamn Star Destroyer; one look at him and you’re instantly intimidated, almost scared. You’ve never met anyone who can be so big yet so quiet, so frightening yet also so caring. It’s actually quite impressive. From his demeanor, no one would be able to guess he’s got a fucking kid back in his ship.

At first you want to protest, not wanting to push any boundaries or make either of you feel uncomfortable, but you know he’ll end up winning any argument you try to make for yourself, so instead you give him a quick nod before turning on your heel to the refresher. You don’t turn back to see if the Mandalorian is still looking at you, but your cheeks feel red hot anyway.

The fresher is pretty small considering the size of the ship, but if he somehow manages to fit in here, you have no problem. The water is warm, and cascades over your skin, instantly relaxing you. It feels amazing until it suddenly doesn’t. Your arm is burning, it’s on fucking fire and then it hits you. Looking down at your arm, you see scorched skin and are reminded of your injury from… well you’re not quite sure how long it’s been since he captured you back on Kijimi. It’s maybe been two or three days since. In the same moment, you realize you never got to put any bacta spray on it to stop any kind of infection. The skin surrounding the wound is turning a deep green-purple shade. Not a good sign.

“Kriff…” You whisper. You were supposed to put some bacta on it once you got back to your ship but obviously, things went differently than you expected. You take the bar of soap sitting on one of the ledges inside the fresher and begin washing away the dirt and sweat from the last couple of days, being extra careful when cleaning the area around your injury. Realistically, you could stay here for hours, letting the warm water drip down your figure, completely soothing your sore muscles and calming your mind, but you don’t want to take up more water than necessary.

When you come out of the fresher, there’s a pile of clean clothes resting on the rungs of the ladder. Tilting your head at the garments in front of you, you take them in your hands and smile to yourself. He must have gone out while you were working on the ship and somehow was able to find you some clean clothes. You change quickly, out in the open, hoping he won’t walk in and see you—okay maybe you do kind of hope he’ll see you. Once you’re fully clothes, you’re pleasantly surprised to notice they fit you perfectly. The cargo pants hug your frame like a glove, and you can’t help but notice they make your ass look great. Your tunic snatches your waist and is low cut enough for just the smallest amount of cleavage to pop through.

Taking the ladder two steps at a time, you reach the top in record time. You can see the smooth convex of beskar in the pilot’s chair, so instead of immediately resuming your work, you poke your head into the doorway of the cockpit. The Child’s pram rests on the seat to your left. It’s closed which means he’s probably asleep in there.

“Thank you for the clothes…” You’re not sure what to call him, since neither of us have actually properly introduced yourselves. However, you’re sure he knows your name given there’s a bounty on your head.

He doesn’t turn to face you, just continues whatever he’s doing. “Mando,” He clarifies, somehow answering the question you were thinking. “And you’re welcome.”

You linger for a couple seconds, not entirely sure why. He’s not much of a talker, but you still want to hear his voice. Before you can conjure up with something to say, he breaks the silence.

“When will you be done?” There isn’t any annoyance in his tone, which is usually accompanied by that question. You heard it all the time when you worked back at the hangar. “Hey lady, when are you going to be done?”, “What the Kriff is taking so long?”. You’ve grown to let those condescending questions roll off your back, but the Mandalorian’s tone is surprisingly gentle. Maker, are you falling for the Mandalorian?

“Well,” You begin, taking a few steps into the cockpit. Your hand comes up and latches onto your forearm, squeezing it. “I noticed that the hyperdrive was only functioning at 50% capacity before it broke down completely, and I was going to ask if you wanted it back at 100% before we takeoff because that’ll take—”

“Just fix it enough for us to get back to Nevarro.” He interjects, the baritone coming out dry.

It catches you off-guard, but you’re quickly reminded once again that you aren’t just somebody fixing the ship. You are a prisoner, and he doesn’t actually owe you any more kindness. He was kind enough to let you live, let you clean yourself in his refresher, and give you clean clothes. You’re chewing on the flesh inside your cheek, wondering if there’s something else you should say, but nothing worth saying comes to mind. He must notice your presence still there, because he swivels the pilot’s chair to face you. You swallow the giant lump in your throat and shift in your stance.

“You’re hurt.”

You glance over to your arm and then back to the visor. “It’s nothing.”

Pressing down on his knees to stand, the Mandalorian stalks towards you. Nerves and arousal are pooling in your stomach, now. Your chest is heaving as he gets closer. Stopping just at arm’s length, a gloved hand reaches out and clasps just underneath your injured bicep. The touch makes you pull back, not because it hurts but because it feels too fucking amazing. You’re seeing stars and he’s barely even touched you. Mouth agape, your breathing is so fucking uneven.

“That’ll need more than just cauterizing in order for it to properly heal,” His hand now moves down, ever so gently caressing your elbow. Your head dips down, unable to look at him directly. It’s pathetic really. You’re usually a fairly strong-willed person, who doesn’t bend at the will of anybody. You stand tall, even despite your size. Others in the smuggling game have a huge respect for you and see you as a leader, but now you’re cowering under the Mandalorian. You’d obey every one of his commands if he ordered it. All the power you hold, your bad habit of resisting authority would vanish in an instant if he pushed you.

“There’s bacta spray in the medical kit near the armory. You should take care of that before it infects.”

Your brain is racing, and the ability to form words had completed disappeared. All you can offer is a barely noticeable nod. You want to stay in this moment for as long as you can. Just the two of you standing inches apart, the tension growing thicker and thicker in the small area of the cockpit. You wonder if he feels it, too. If he wishes for this intimate moment to last forever. Swallowing your nerves, your eyes shit from the floor up to the visor. Trying to gauge for some kind of reaction but even if he is affected by this, his body gives no sign of it. Must be all in your head, then.

The Mandalorian’s finally the one to break up your little moment. He lets go of your elbow and you fight back the moan that threatens to escape your lips. You want him to touch you again, anywhere and fucking everywhere. He sits back in the chair and rotates it towards the control panel, so his back is facing you again. You probably linger a little longer than you should before finally retreating back down the ladder to get the bacta spray.

Once the spray mists over the gash, you instantly feel relief. The strain you didn’t realize was still in your body dissipates and you let out a deep breath through your lips. Thank the Maker for bacta spray.

The next few days go by relatively fast. Despite the awkward/sexual tension that clearly exists between you and Mando, you’re able to endure it. The encounters don’t last that long anyway. Usually, he’ll ask you about the progress on the hyperdrive. The conversations don’t last particularly long, but it’s enough to work you up into a sweaty mess.

And if you’re being honest, you probably could have fixed the hyperdrive in two days. You’re a damn natural when it comes to repairs, and you’ve fixed hundreds of hyperdrives in worse shape believe it or not. But you’re were taking your sweet ass time, giving yourself more time to be with Mando. It’s silly and childish, but you truly enjoyed his company, even though the conversations are mostly one sided.

Unfortunately though, the job had to get done. Once Mando noticed the hyperdrive had been fixed to 65% capacity, he was satisfied enough with your work. He decided you’d spend one last night on Sorgan and then leave at first light.

You’re all sitting by the fire. The Child propped up on a stump between the two of you. The night is calm, not a single breeze passing through the trees. A clear sky showered in stars. Forgetting the fact that this is essentially your last night of “freedom”, you’re really loving this.

“Twenty thousand.”

You’re in the middle of sipping bone broth you bought off a merchant in town—with Mando’s credits, when his voice catches your attention. “Hmm?” You mumble, using the back of your hand to wipe the little dripples of soup that trinkle down your chin.

“You asked me how much your bounty was,” His helmet stares into the fire a few feet away from him. The orange hues reflecting off the beskar.

Your lips form a thin line. You didn’t know the New Republic had that kind of money to spend. Twenty thousand is a pretty generous bounty.

“Wow, that’s pretty high.” That’s actually really high. It’s hard to make an honest living, and the New Republic throwing around thousands of credits like that makes you uneasy. Instead of using that as an incentive for other to hunt criminals, it should be distributed to those less fortunate. The thought makes you chuckle to yourself. A smuggler explaining how a government should be run. How noble of you.

“I wasn’t born into this, you know…” Your voice trails off, unsure if Mando wants to hear you or not. The helmet turns in your direction, giving you permission to continue. The Child looks up at you and coos. Your eyes avert their gaze to stare into the flames.

Clearing your throat, you begin. “I was raised on Tatooine. My parents were lucky enough to own a hangar, so my dad worked there, and my mom was a seamstress. Just a couple of ordinary people.” You weren’t particularly less fortunate than anyone else in your town. Your belly was always full, and you always had clean clothes on your back. Most of the residents in your village weren’t as privileged but your parents were generous, offering what little excess they had was given those who couldn’t afford food or clean garments.

Early on, they taught you never to flaunt what you had, always be humble when speaking to others, and to always be respectful. You loved your parents more than you could say, and ever since they died, you shut off a part of yourself. Heartbroken and alone, losing yourself in work seemed like the only way to cope with the loss. The more sorrow you felt, the more work you forced on yourself. If it weren’t for Tye, you’re not sure if you would have been able to get through it.

And ever since then, you vowed never to let yourself experience any kind of love again. The risk was just too high. Not knowing if one day your loved one would come home or not, investing so much of your soul into someone, relying on them only to have it snatched away from you without warning; it just seemed foolish. When they died, you cried every morning and every night for months, until one night you vowed never to cry again.

And you haven’t since.

People called you heartless, scum, cruel, but their words never managed to pierce the iron exterior you mentally built for yourself when your parents died. No one would be allowed to access that sensitive, caring part of you. Not even Tye. You loved him like a brother, but once that loss had punched through you, you could never look at him the same. There was a distance, now. Whether he knew it or not, he never confronted you about it. He gave you space, and when you were ready to let him back into your life, albeit not really back in, he never pressured you or expected your relationship to go back to how it was.

“So when they passed, I just felt like I was lost. I needed to escape.”

“And smuggling was your only option?” There’s a hint of mockery in his tone.

“Yeah, I’m a smuggler and you’re a bounty hunter. We all make choices in life. I’ve made my peace with that.” Your tone comes out a little more defensive than it should, and you think about apologizing, but fuck it. You have nothing to lose anymore. Even if you thought he might not turn you in, the possibility of getting twenty thousand credits is too much of an opportunity to pass up on.

Neither of you speak for the rest of the night.

You’re awakened by Mando nudging your feet with his. You snap out of deep sleep, rubbing your palms against your eyes. Sitting up, you moan softly and begin trying to adjust your vision to the Sorgan darkness. The only light that the night offers is the moonlight reflecting off Mando’s armor. The helmet’s looking directly at you, and a finger comes up to where his mouth would be, signaling to be quiet. Still half-asleep, you nod.

Ever so slowly, you rise to your feet and quickly brush the dirt off your pants.

“Get to the ship,” He orders, voice low and gruff.

“What’s going on?” You whisper, still standing in place.

“Hunters.” He says. “Get to the ship.” Mando orders again, his tone becoming much more assertive. You want to fight. You’ve never run from a fight before, and you’re not about to start now.

“I can help.”

Before having the chance to respond, red blasts come flying through the trees in the distance. Mando grabs you by the waist and shoves you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Get to the fucking ship!” He yells.

You want to argue with him, really you do. Realistically, you know he could probably take care of this himself, but that doesn’t mean you want to cower away and hide in the ship while he takes care of business. Then panic swarms you.

The Child.

Your head whips back and forth, and the relief that comes over you when you catch sight of his pram just your left, the gloomy night shielding him from sight, instantly calms your nerves.

The shooting stops all at once, becoming eerily quiet. Mando pivots, trying to keep eyes all around him. Your body mimics his movements, even though you’re completely defenseless. Twigs snapping, bushes rustling—not from the breeze, but from intruders trampling over them, coming closer. One, two, three, four hunters come into view, flanking you from all angles.

Okay, so this worse than you thought.

“Ah, Mando!” One of them calls out, blaster pointed directly at Mando’s chest.

“We don’t want any trouble, Mando,” Another pursuer taunts. “We just want the girl.”

Fuck.

They begin drawing in closer. You don’t want to underestimate Mando’s ability to fight, but with four hunters closing in, and having only one blaster, you’re not seeing how he can win this. You’re conjuring a plan inside your head and praying that he’ll catch on. If someone’s going to get credit for your capture, it sure as hell isn’t going to be this gang of thugs.

“Fine.” You throw up your hands in defeat, stepping aside from the shield that is Mando. You face the man directly in front of you, assuming he’s the one who’s leading the charge.

“What are you doing?” Mando’s voice is fucking low, somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

“Trust me.” Your tone gentle, eyes pleading with him.

You begin taking slow footsteps towards the blaster pointed now at you. “I can assure you, I’m more valuable alive, so why don’t we put our blasters down before someone gets hurts?” Arms still up, hesitating to take any more steps forward.

“You think we’re stupid enough to listen to you?” One of them shouts behind you. You flinch on impulse. Your chest is heaving, but you need to a grip if you plan to walk away from this alive.

You can slightly make out the hunter’s features. He looks somewhat familiar, like when you see a stranger in a dream, but you can’t pinpoint where you’ve seen him before. You’ve encountered plenty of hunters before, maybe they’re just all starting to look the same to you. Only Mando stands out, now.

The moon’s mellow and radiant reflection is starting to make out the hunter’s features. He doesn’t look entirely human, but you don’t manage to get close enough to actually see what he is.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The hunter sneers, his mouth curling into a malicious grin.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you remember who this is—but how? You shot him in the chest. You saw him fall. Sure, you didn’t actually check to see if he was dead but how could anyone survive being blasted directly in the chest? You must be remembering wrong. No, he shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here.

“Surprised to see me?”

You refuse to show your disbelief, keeping your jaw tense. “No, it’s just more target practice.” You spit.

Eerie laughter erupts from deep inside the man opposite you. Never slacking on the grip on his blaster, he shifts the barrel from your chest to directly between your eyes. Okay…what the fuck do you do now?

Mando and the kid are still a few feet behind you. You’re running out of ideas, fast. If you went to attack your pursuer, he’d definitely shoot you before you got close enough to him, and the three behind you would shoot Mando down before he even had time to react. You need to play this out smart, maybe you could—

Before being able to finish your thought, you hear whistling, and bodies hit the ground. Instinctively, you want to look over your shoulder to see what happened, but there’s still a blaster pointed at your face, and you’d be dead if you wasted even a second to turn around. Charging at him, you narrowly miss three blasts as they come flying by your cheek, shoulder, and neck. Once you feel close enough, you lunge at him, knocking you both to the ground. Your body lands on top of his, the blaster rolling a few feet away from your conjoined bodies. Grabbing hold of the lapel on his jacket, you wind up your fist and connect it with his jaw. He cries at the pain, retaliating by slamming his knee into your abdomen. The air is completely knocked out of your lungs, but you stifle the wail that threatens to spill you. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You reach out aimlessly for the gun, and the joy you get when you feel the gun in your hand is unmatched. Scrambling to your feet, and clutching the gun in your hand, you point it at him. Mando wastes no time rushing to your side, blaster also on him.

“Don’t.” You tell him. No, you want this kill to be yours.

For a moment, you think he’ll ignore you and shoot him anyway. The man on the ground, now resting on his elbows spits, droplets of blood landing on the ground, a small trail dribbling down his chin. It shouldn’t bring you this much satisfaction, to see him bleed and completely at your mercy, but reason has escaped you. You want to hurt him; you want him to feel as much pain as any person can take. He threatened you, Mando, and the kid. He’ll pay for it, you promise.

“Go ahead, kill me.” The man swears. “But know that we’re only the beginning. You think you’re the only one who got a tracking fob, Mando?” A smile curls up on the corners of his lips. Your body is hot—it’s actually scorching. This surpasses any emotion you’ve ever felt before. The scalding need for blood and pain engulfs you. You’re not even sure why you feel so angry, but you are.

“Hunter scum,” You spit, kicking him hard in the stomach. More red fluid punches out of his mouth, causing him to cough aggressively.

“Hey,” Mando’s free arm grasps on to your bicep. “Stop.”

Your head’s shaking violently. No, he needs to suffer. “No, I’m gonna savour this.” You swing your leg back to kick him again, but Mando’s voice rips through the vocoder. “Stop!” It comes out aggressive, like he’s giving you an order.

Your jaw is tight, every fiber in your body is telling you to shove Mando out of the way so you can wreck this hunter scum that lies at your feet.

“You g-gonna let him order you around like that, sweetheart?” His last word cuts through you like a vibroblade to the chest. Your free hand balls up into a fist, white knuckling so hard, you’re sure you’re breaking skin with your nails. The man on the ground laughs, he’s fucking laughing at you and that’s the final straw, the thing you needed to push you over the edge. Unclenching your fist, your hand shoots up and flexes around what you imagine is his neck. He coughs, and starts gasping for air. Shaky hands shoot up to his own throat, as if he thinks that’ll somehow relieve the pressure you’re creating. It feels good, seeing him fucking struggle for breath, watching the light behind his eyes becoming dimmer and dimmer. It’s happening all too fast, and you want to take your time.

“Fuck this,” Mando shouts, his blaster coming up and shooting the man in the heart. Your grip slackens, and you drop to your knees. Struggling for breath, one hand on your chest and the other on your knee, you feel like you’re going to pass out. Mando’s drops to your side, a big, gloved hand resting on your back. Your body shudders at the touch and you pull away from him. Determined to put some space between you two, you straighten out, and take a couple steps back.

“What the hell happened there?” He tries not to startle you; his voice comes out a rough whisper.

Feeling your breathing evening out, your palms come out, trembling. You stare down at them, then to the corpse lying near Mando’s feet, desperately trying to understand why you couldn’t stop, why you couldn’t control your anger. The words aren’t forming, you can’t bring yourself to understand how it happened.

“I-I don’t know.” How could this happen? How could you let this happen?

A distorted sigh comes through the helmet. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I didn’t,” Your voice comes out as gentle as you can, given the circumstances. “I’ve just always had it.”

Mando takes a step closer to you and halts; he’s asking for permission to get closer. You give him a barely noticeable nod and within seconds he’s towering over you. His hands twitch at his sides, and you wonder if he’s going to touch you, but he doesn’t, and you start to believe that maybe a jail cell is exactly where you should be.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #Din Djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #Din Djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #angst #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: grief #reader insert #the mandalorian fanfiction #we are one when together #fics

106 notes · View notes

engie-ivy · 4 years ago

Text

Remus doesn’t go to the annual Halloween party because of the full moon, Sirius doesn't go to the annual Halloween party because of Remus, and the task befalls James to come up with an excuse as to why his two friends are both absent and should not be disturbed...

Short and cute happy Halloween fluff🎃

Self-fulfilling rumours

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Remus looks up from his book to see a rather angry-looking Sirius glaring at him from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“You all have calendars yourselves,” Remus replies calmly, focussing his attention back on his book.

Sirius rolls his eyes as he walks into the room. “Well, we obviously didn’t realise, so why didn’t you remind us then?”

Remus sighs and puts down his book. “It’s your favourite night of the year. You were already so excited. What’s the point of me putting a damper on the fun?”

“Well, it could’ve saved Jamie and I the trouble of coming up with our costumes...”

“You’re going to the Halloween party,” Remus says firmly.

Halloween and the annual Halloween party is one of James’ and Sirius’ favourite time of the year. Eating nothing but candy all day, pulling an extra amount of pranks under the excuse of trick ‘n treating, and always having the best costumes. If it were anybody else, people might have made fun of them for dressing up in over the top and matching, but when James and Sirius do it, it’s cool, which goes for about everything.

“Moony,” Sirius says frowning. “Of course we’re not going to the Halloween party this year if the full moon is that night.”

“Sirius,” Moony sighs. “I’m not gonna let all of you miss out on something you were so looking forward to on my account.” Sirius opens his mouth to protest, but Remus keeps talking. “Besides, I can’t leave the shack on the night of Halloween anyways. Much too dangerous, with people out and about trick ‘n treating or going on ghost tours. So there’s really no need for you to miss the party.”

“But when you’re in there alone...”

“I’ve handled it on my own for many years,” Remus smiles in a way he hopes looks more convincing than he feels. “I can handle one night more, so you can enjoy yourselves.”

“Stop talking like it’s a sacrifice for us!” Sirius says. “We love our nights during the full, it’s the highlight of the month.”

“When we can go out,” Remus chuckles. “Not when you’ll be obligated to spend the night in a small space with a cranky werewolf, while you could’ve been getting drunk on illegally obtained Firewhiskey and eating your weight in candy.”

Sirius stares at him for a while. Then he sighs. “I won’t argue with you then.”

As Remus sits alone and cold on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, feeling as miserable as always so close to the full moon, he starts to regret being so firm to Sirius. In reality, he dreads transforming on his own, and letting the wolf take out his aggression on himself.

“Wotcher, Moony.”

Remus can’t suppress his smile as Sirius casually walks into the room. “What happened to ‘I won’t argue with you’?”

Sirius shrugs as he sits down in front of Remus. “I didn’t argue with you, now did I? I decided to save us the trouble, and just do what I wanted anyway.”

Remus knows he should tell Sirius to go back to the castle and enjoy the party, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s too relieved to have Padfoot with him for this night.

“Won’t Prongs mind that he won’t have you in your prisoner of Azkaban costume to accompany his Dementor costume?”

“Nah,” Sirius says. “I let Wormtail take my place. He was delighted.”

“I really don’t want to keep you from what you love so much...” Remus tries one last time.

“You are what I-” Sirius stops himself and sighs. “I mean, I don’t want to be anywhere else, Moony.” Then he smiles. “Why would I want to hang out with fake werewolves all night when I have the real thing right here?”

Remus launches himself forward and hugs Sirius tight, relief washing over him. “Thank you,” he whispers.

The full moon isn’t as bad with Padfoot there to calm the wolf, even if they have to stay locked inside the entire night. Despite some slowly healing scars and the usual painful muscles, he’s able to make his way around the castle again not too long after. In the library, one of the Prewett twins drops down in the chair in front of him.

“Hi Gid,” Remus greets. “How are you? How was the Halloween party? I heard you and Fabian didn’t bothered with costumes and just said you were dressed up as each other.”

Gideon grins. “Yeah, it was definitely fun. But not as much fun as your night has been, or so I’ve heard.”

Remus blinks at Gideon who’s looking back with a suggestive grin. Remus knows Gideon cannot be referring to what he actually did that night, as he definitely wouldn’t use the word ‘fun’, nor would he be smiling at him like that. If he knew, he probably wouldn’t be talking to him anymore at all, though admittedly, Remus has been wrong about that before. Remus realises that he has no idea what excuse James has given for his absence. Attempting to stay as vague as possible, until he can check with James, Remus says “Yeah, well, you know how it is, right?”

Gideon throws his head back and laughs. “I honestly can’t say I do, Lupin. But I can say that I’ve sometimes wished I did,” he adds with a wink, before leaving for his next class, leaving behind a very confused Remus.

“I am never talking to you again.”

Remus doesn’t take this threat too serious, as Lily just ran up to him and hooked her arm in his.

“You have affronted me, Remus Lupin.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Did I now?”

“Oh, yes,” Lily says. “I’m not terribly surprised, as I’ve had my suspicions, but having to hear it from Potter!” Lily shakes her head. “So, what’s the deal? Is it, for lack of a better word, serious?”

“I...” Remus says hesitantly. “Am not sure?”

“Right,” Lily says nodding. “I guess these things can be complicated. Just know that as long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”

Remus starts noticing how people are, not even subtly, staring at him and talking about him. He sees lots of giggling and the occasional angry glare, but also suggestive smirks, winks and even a couple of thumbs up. Remus feels very much at a loss.

When Benjy Fenwick passes him in the corridor, he turns around to Remus. “Nice job, Lupin. From what I’ve seen in the Quidditch locker room, I can only say congratulations.”

When he tells Marlene he’s sorry he missed the party, she snorts. “Like hell you are, Lupin.” And then with a smirk “I trust you had a very pleasing evening?” And when Remus, caught off guard, stammers that he supposes it was quite satisfying, she bursts out in laughter.

Mary just runs up to him and gives him an overly-excited hug, saying that she’s super invested in it already.

Remus walks into the common room over to where James and Sirius are sitting. “Prongs, a word in the dorm please. Padfoot, you come too.”

James looks very guilty as he enters the dorm. “I’m sorry!” He immediately says. “I panicked, and I couldn’t come up with anything else in that moment. I didn’t expect every person in school to be talking about it.”

Remus pinches the bridge of his nose. “What exactly is everyone talking about?”

“Well,” James runs a hand through his hair, before speaking in a rushed voice. “People asked why you weren’t at the party, so I said you were sick, but McKinnon found it hard to believe that suddenly both of you were sick and she wanted to go up to our dorm to confront you, ‘cause she ‘wasn’t gonna let you skip on the party of the year that easily’, and before I knew it she was walking up the stairs and I had to think of something, as neither one of you was of course actually in our dorm, to convince McKinnon she really shouldn’t enter our dorm that evening, so, and like I said, panicking, I said that you two were... you know.”

Sirius’ eyes widen. “You told McKinnon we were shagging?”

“No,” James says defensively before turning his head away and softly muttering “I shouted through the common room that you were shagging.”

Remus flushes as he remembers all the looks and conversations from that morning. He hides his face in his hands and drops down on the bed. He’s vaguely aware of Sirius telling James through gritted teeth to give him a moment with Remus to talk about what to do, and not long after, he feels Sirius sit down next to him on the bed.

Remus tries to compose himself. “So this is of course terribly embarrassing,” he says, and notices how Sirius looks away with a strange expression on his face. “But I suppose I rather have people talk about me for hooking up with you, than have people talk about me for being a vile, vicious monster.”

“I’m glad people thinking you’re hooking up with me is just slightly better than people thinking you’re a monster,” Sirius replies bitterly.

Remus frowns. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Sirius stays silent, so Remus continues. “For Godric’s sake, how in Merlin’s name Prongs came up with that? And for people to actually believe something so ridiculous!”

Sirius now snaps his eyes back to Remus’ face with an angry glare, and Remus has the feeling he’s really screwing up, but doesn’t know exactly what he’s screwing up.

“I suppose the idea that you’d hook up with me is absolutely ridiculous,” Sirius says with something like suppressed anger and hurt.

“Well, yeah,” Remus replies, not understanding this reaction. “Everyone knows that you’re way out off my league.”

“What?” Sirius asks incredulously. “I am no such thing!”

“Please,” Remus says, making a dismissive gesture. “You can literally pick anyone you want, why in Merlin’s name would you pick me?”

“Because you’re clever and kind? Because you have a sharp wit and a wicked sense of humour? Because you have pretty eyes that light up when you laugh or read a book and a cute smile, especially when you do that adorable nose wrinkle-thing? Because you know exactly how to comfort me and make me feel better about myself?”

How Remus wishes he was better at this sort of thing, how he wishes he’d have the exact right words to describe how much he admires Sirius and the feeling it gives him when Sirius’ eyes meet his and he gives him one if those small smiles, but all he manages to say is “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sirius sounds defeated. “Look, I’m sorry that these rumours bother you so much. I wish I could make it better for you, but I don’t know...”

As he speaks, Sirius moves to get up from the bed, but Remus grabs his wrist. “You could make it better for me.”

Sirius sits back down and stares at Remus, and now it’s his turn to mutter the eloquent “Oh.”

Remus nervously licks his lips and shifts a little closer to Sirius. “I’d feel much better about these rumours if there was at least some truth in them.”

Sirius swallows and shifts a little closer to Remus. “Yeah, I hate that Prongs had to lie for us.”

Having him so close, Remus musters his courage and places one hand on Sirius’ waist. “Precisely. I don’t like fooling Lily about it either.”

Sirius places a tentative hand on Remus’ cheek. “It’d be indeed much better for them if there was some truth to it.”

Remus leans into his touch. “And so many people seemed really excited about it.”

Sirius also leans in a little closer, and Remus can feel his breath on his lips as he speaks. “It’d be such a shame to disappoint them.”

“Yeah,” Remus whispers before letting his eyes fall shut and closing the last bit of distance. “Such a shame.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #marauders era #wolfstar fluff #halloween #my tumblr writing

170 notes · View notes

itsthestutterforme · 4 years ago

Text

Redeemed (Supernatural)

Redeemed Circuit 1/4

Y/N was previously tortured by Dean while he had the mark of cain. They thought she was a demon that worked for Abbadon. Turns out, she was just a human with an allergy to oil. A year later, Y/N was actually a prophet and the Winchester need her to find a way to trap Michael from the other world

Characters: Dean Winchester x POC!reader, Sam x reader, Castiel x reader

"Please, I'm telling you that truth!" Y/N begs as Dean scraped his ugly blade against her clavicle. Sharp stings littering her body and extends to every cut that he made. They speak of Abbadon and demons. At first she called them psychos and high off their asses if they wanted her to believe that demons were real. It wasn't until she saw Dean's eyes flicker black that fear struck her silent.

These cuts and oil burning have been going on for days, and at this point, she wanted to beg for death. "You're going to tell me where Abbadon is," "I don't know where or who Abbadon is, I swear."

Her throat scratches against itself of soreness from her long screams. She was barely able to keep her eyes opened. He grabs her face and pulls her inches away from his.

"You disgust me," he insults before leaving the room. She winced as he slams the door shut and tears pricked her eyes for the hundredth time. The door creaks up but she doesn't bother lifting her head.

Footsteps near her and hand touches her arm. She pulls away from his rough, calloused hands. "Wait a minute, these are- Dean!" "No, please, don't bring him back here." She pleads. "It's alright, honey, I'm so sorry I didn't catch this sooner."

"I'm starting to think she doesn't know anything, we should just kill her." Dean says, making her whimper lightly. "No, look. She's breaking out into hives. She's have an allergic reaction, she's not a demon." Sam says.

She looked up at Sam through swollen eyes as he pulls her wrists and ankles from their restraints. "I'll get the first aid kit," Dean says before leaving the room again. "I am so sorry." "No, let me.. leave me at the hospital." "At the severity of your wounds, you won't make it to the hospital," Sam explains. "I'll take my chances,"

"Listen, I'll.. how about I help you. He doesn't have to touch you." She shakes her head and pushes him away. "Take me to the hospital or let me die." That was the last thing she said before blacking out completely.

A constant beep of a monitor is the only thing she hears. Her eyes slowly peel open to see her brother, Y/B/N holding his face in his hands. He must of heard her sit up because his head shot up and met her eyes with his red, puffy ones. "Y/N? Oh my God," he stands from his chair and takes one of her hands into his.

"We've been looking for you everywhere. And everyone thought that you were.. I'm just glad you're okay." He wipes away his tears with the cuff of his sleeve. No words came to mind to say.

Ironic, really because her mind is blank but her body has plenty to say. Between the stitches, the IV and Dean's punches, getting ran over sounds like a dream right now.

Sam and Dean were tired of standing around waiting to find out when Castiel will find the new prophet that was called forth. They just came back from a hunt and settled down after taking their showers.

They need the prophet to translate the angel tablet they found in the other world.The world where Mary and Jack resided. Hopefully it will help defeat Michael who is definitely coming over here into this world. Castiel just came back from Heaven in search of the next prophet, and what do you know, it's Y/N.

Castiel sets the file down on the table in front of the Winchesters and they opened to see Y/N's picture. "Oh you've got to be kidding me," Dean says, running a hand over his face. "Wait, you know her?" "Yeah, she hates us." Sam says. "It doesn't matter, she has a duty as a prophet to provide what the Lord set out,"

"Believe me, she would rather jump off a bridge than help us." "I'll bring her here," "No!" Sam says, making Cas stop his movements. "Let me just. I'll pick her up. Just tell me where she is." "The last I sensed her, she was in Boise, Idaho," "Do you need any help?" "She won't go if you're there, Dean."

"I know, I just.." Dean trails off and his gazs falls to the floor. "Nevermind," he adds before walking off. "What happened between them?" Cas asks. Sam shakes his head and says, "You don't want to know,".

Sam packs a go bag and takes the Impala to get Y/N. He drives around bars and shops and finally found me walking out of the grocery store with brown, paper bags in my hand.

"Y/N," Sam says as he approaches her. She pulls her head out from under the car. When she sees Sam, her eyes widen and she pulls out her gun. She aims it at him and takes off the safety. "Whoa, whoa! I-I'm not here to hurt. I just need your help." She slightly lower her gun and look to the Impala for Dean.

"He's not here," he says and she puts the safety on before tucking it under her belt. "You okay?" Sam asks. She raised her index finger before reaching back into the car for a writing pad.

"Help for what?" She writes and showed him. "Did something happen to your voice?" "I made a vow," she writes. "Because of Dean?" he asks.

She didn't say anything but she pulls the writing pad closer to her chest. "Listen, there is something coming. Something bigger than all of us, an archangel. And he's coming here to lay waste to our world. We may have something to stop it but we can't read it without a prophet.

"I know. I've been having visions." She writes. He nods and she looks at him for a moment. Almost as if he read her mind, he says, "I will make sure that he leaves you alone." "He's your brother,"

"What we did was wrong, but this isn't about us. It's about the world." "I know," "So you'll help us?" She nods before writing, "I need to get my computer first,"

It's been weeks since she went to the bunker for the first time. Seeing Dean for the first time in years sent chills down her body. Everything that happened, everything that he did to her was still fresh in her mind.

She has nightmares every night and wake up. It took her months to make sure she didn't scream herself awake.

"I don't know, Dean." "Oh come on, I'm not going to do anything," Dean says. They think she plays music while have earphones on when she is translating the tablet on her computer. Well sometimes, she does.

Other times she just put it on to listen in their conversations. "You know how she acts when you even look at her too long," "We have to learn to work together, especially with Michael coming here,"

"What do you think she's doing? She didn't have to help us. She could have said screw you and left us to die. But she's pushing past things," "Sam, you're just going for a milk run. It's not that big of a deal. She'll be fine." Dean says.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoes through out the bunker. She hears Dean walks behind her and she could feel the hairs on her neck stand up.

"I know you can't hear me but, I have to say it. Words can't even begin to express how much guilt I have weighing on my chest. It's so heavy that I can't even breathe. I--" she stands up from the table and take off my earphones.

She locks eyes with him for the first time she got there. She shake her head and closed her computer before rushing into her room to lock the door behind her.

Why the hell do I feel bad for him? He's the one that made my life hell! He doesn't deserve my forgivness. She thinks to herself. She collapses on the bed and sigh when she heard her phone chiming.

She reaches over the bed and into the nightstand to look at who was it was. She clicked on her Y/B/N contact and opened a new message from him.

It was a man with glowing blue eyes mainly in the frame but in the very left top corner, she saw her brother beaten to a bloody pulp. The background seemed oddly familiar Fear shudders through her body and she could feel it starting to freeze over.

"DEAN!" She yells. That was the first time she spoke in two years. Heavy footsteps run towards her room and before she could stand to open the door, he kicks the door in.

She showed him the phone and his jaw clenches. "He has my brother," "He's already here. Did you find anything important on the tablet?" "Yeah, I'm practically finished. There's a scepter like weapon with angel grace in it. That's the only thing that kill him."

"Do you have no idea where it is?" "Not me, but your angel friend can," "Alright, pack a go bag and meet me in the garage in 10," She nods and pull open the drawers when Dean says, "And Y/N?"

"Yeah?" "We'll get him back." She doesn't say anything and continued to pack. They packed clothes and weapons before texting Sam her address to meet.

Within a couple hours, they arrived at her house and there was an eerie vibe about it. Dean wanted her to wait in the car until Sam got there but she couldn't wait while that son of a bitch was hurting her brother.

She ran inside and Dean followed her into went to the house. Blood was smeared all over the walls and windows. The house stenched of metal and rotting flesh. She found my brother with his skull cracked open in the kitchen.

She heart was barely able to take seeing him like that but when she saw her niece with bruises littering her neck, she lost it.

That son of a bitch strangled her to death. She must have been so scared. Y/N cradled her cold, limp body in her arms and smooth out her soft, curly hair. "I'm so sorry, honey." She stand up but her eyes don't leave the corpse. "I need a minute," "Whatever you need," he says before leaving the room.

Anger boils her blood and yells erupted from her chest. She rushed out of the room and kicked the couch forwards. She grabbed the lamp and throw it against the wall.

She picked up the nightstand and slamed it on the ground with a satisfying crack. She kicked the nightstand and into the corner and standing in front of the family portrait.

Her fist finds its way through the picture and she just kept punching and punching. She didn't care if the glass was piercing through the flesh of my hands.

Sam finally arrives at Y/N's house with Cas. "I'll check around the perimeter of the house," Cas says. Sam nods and asks, "Where's Y/N?" Right on cue, she yells out in anger.

"Y/N," Sam tries to walk into the house but Dean holds him back. "Give her a minute. She found the bodies of her brother and niece," Dean explains. Sam sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. "It's our fault," Sam says.

"I know. They would still be alive if she didn't help us," Dean says. "She's already been through enough," "He's gone. There's no trace of Michael." Cas says to them as he walks up the steps. "Damn it," Dean says.

Y/N is huddled in the corner with her bleeding hands. "Alright, Y/N, enough of this. There's only one thing left to do now." She stands up and walks out of the house. Their eyes fall to her hands and she noticed. "It's alright, don't worry about it." "We should at least cover it so it doesn't get infected." "I need to get this cleaned up," she says, motioning to the house.

"You don't have to do this alone, Y/N." "I'm used to it," she says, walking passed them and opening the garage. She pulls out a shovel and Sam gets in the way. "Y/N, please. Let us help," he explains.

"I know you feel guilty, but it's best if you leave. I'm not angry at you, I'm just tired of the people around me getting hurt." She looked from Sam to Dean and Dean steps closer to her.

"Well you're stuck with us. And we're all in." "Once I'm done here, I'm making sure Michael's head is on a pike. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Like I said, all in." Dean says. "Then start digging a pit at least a foot deep. We have to burn everything in that house." She says, handing them both a shovel.

"You've done this before?" Sam asks. "My brother did, and he told me in case something happened to him.." she trails off. "I'll get your hands cleaned up," Cas says, motioning to her hands. "Fine,"

#poc!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural

36 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 5 years ago

Text

Running to a Standstill - 8

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2083

Rating: E

Warnings: sex talk

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers. While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 8

“We need to talk.”

Bucky’s words hang in the air, heavy and foreboding. A list of possible reasons for Bucky’s tension ran through his head. Something had happened to Geo. Or Bucky had decided he wasn’t up to babysitting anymore. Or the intel he’d gotten was some terrible bombshell like your husband never died but instead, he’d been made into some kind of super soldier and now he was trying to have you killed. It wasn’t like Steve to have quite this level of paranoia, but it also wasn’t like Bucky to want to talk.

“Can we sit?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said. “Sit.”

Bucky sat down in the recliner, but the way he perched made it look like he was ready to run at any moment. Steve sat down on the couch and you sat next to him. Steve put his arm around you, almost protectively, like he was worried that whatever Bucky was about to say would send you into flight mode. Steve waited patiently as Bucky seemed to steel himself, running his hand through his hair and taking a few deep breaths.

“I need to… I gotta…” Bucky said and shook his head. “You both need to know that I - I don’t want to mess up what you have. I’m really happy for you both. You deserve to be happy.”

Steve furrowed his brow, now completely confused as to what Bucky wanted to talk about. Bucky let out another breath and shook his head.

“I need you both to not ask me for relationship advice anymore,” Bucky said. Steve went to say something but Bucky cut him off. “I love you, pal. And that’s the ‘why’ of it. I … I have feelings… for you… both.”

Your jaw actually dropped open and Steve felt like his heart stopped beating and then tried to escape his chest out his throat. “I’m sorry… what?”

“I just… when you both come to me, it hurts and I don’t…” he shook his head. “I know neither of you feels that way about me …”

“That’s not true,” you said, interrupting Bucky.

Bucky looked between you and Steve, blinking in shock. “What?”

Steve was in shock too. His brain had just locked up and he wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never imagined that Bucky had felt the same way about him as he felt about Bucky. He couldn’t even imagine how long Bucky might have been feeling that way. Was it new? This was really the first time Bucky had seen Steve dating, did this newly healing man see a relationship and just confuse wanting to have that, with wanting to have them? Did it go back earlier? Did the post Winter Soldier version of Bucky confuse friendship for romance? Or did the reset in time and the relearning of who he was and his place in the world mean that he had fallen for Steve recently? Did it go back to before? Did he start getting feelings for Steve once he’d seen him on the serum? God forbid it happened before that and he had been pining for Steve just as long as Steve and been pining for him.

“Bucky,” you said gently, leaning forward and touching his hand. “I know you just said both of us. And I promise, what I’m about to do isn’t dismissing that, but you and Steve really, really need to talk right now in private, so I’m just going to go to bed.” You turned to Steve and rubbed his leg. He could see your eyes glistening like you were trying very hard not to cry. He cradled your jaw and wanted to hug you or kiss you or do anything to tell you that the bombshell that had just been dropped wasn’t going to change anything. But that wasn’t true. It was going to change everything and both of you knew it. He hated the idea that he was now in this position where someone could get horrifically hurt and that he was most likely going to be the cause of that. He did love you though and he didn’t know what to do. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “It’s okay. We all might need time to think but whatever happens … you gotta go with your heart. Not your head.”

He nodded and leaned in and kissed you. You ran your hand back through his hair. The contrast between the softness of your lips and the way your nails scratched gently over his scalp made his skin prickle. You pulled back, and he chased your lips for a moment, reluctant to let the moment end. You stood, smiling sadly. “Goodnight,” you said and ran your fingers through Bucky’s hair as you passed him on your way into Geo’s room.

Bucky turned back to Steve when you left and swallowed thickly. “Steve?”

His voice came out soft and gravelly and as scared as he’d heard it in a long time. Steve took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. He feared the words he was about to say but he also yearned for them. “Buck,” he said. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Bucky seemed to freeze in place. Steve wondered if he’d gotten the same brain freeze that he had suffered from a moment ago. “Really?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Buck. Really.”

Bucky moved over to the couch, taking the spot you had just been occupying. He leaned in a little and god, how Steve wanted to bridge the difference, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when so much still hung in the air. He put his hand on Bucky’s chest and caressed his collarbone with his thumb. “I can’t…”

Bucky pulled back and seemed to shrink down. “Right. Right. Of course.”

Steve took Bucky’s hands and held them to his heart. “Buck,” he whispered. “I just need time. This is… a lot. I can’t just switch feelings on and off like a light. I love you, but I love her too.”

Bucky shook his head. “I get it. I didn’t expect…”

Steve laughed and leaned forward, nosing at Bucky’s cheek. The stubble from his beard that had started coming through, and it scratched the tip of Steve’s nose. “You’re telling me.” Bucky laughed quietly and leaned into Steve’s touch. “How long?”

Bucky sighed and his hands tightened in Steve’s. “Since we were kids. You were 16.”

Steve laughed and tried to imagine if things might have been different if either of them had actually admitted how they felt back then. It was hard to say because so much happened. Bucky might have still ended up falling from that train, and it still would have rent Steve’s heart in two. But they could have had some time before the world had fallen apart. They wouldn’t be in this mess right now. “Well, we’re a couple of fucking idiots aren’t we?”

Bucky huffed and nodded his head. “Yeah. We are.”

“Can I have time to figure myself out?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded without raising his eyes. “It’s been 70 years in the making. What’s another week or so?”

“Thank you,” Steve said. Bucky gave Steve’s hands and stood.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, punk,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Steve agreed as Bucky headed for the door. “Buck?”

Bucky turned back to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“I love you, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I love you too, Steve.”

As Bucky left the room, Steve got up. He had imagined Bucky telling him that he loved him so many different ways with so many different outcomes. There was no version of that happening that Steve imagined feeling as much pain as he did right now.

Steve woke the following morning with less clarity and more anxiety than he’d been feeling when he’d gone to bed alone the night before. The two of you were planning to finally add something physical last night and instead, he’d gone to bed alone for the first time in over a month. He loved you. He did. But he loved Bucky too and now he’d have to choose.

Rather than actually do the mature thing and confront his feelings and maybe talk about how he felt with you. He hurried out to the office, looked at the intel, formed a team that didn’t include Bucky, and took off to Madripoor.

“You really think going out into Madripoor like a bull in a China shop is the best idea?” Natasha asked. He was sitting in the back of the jet with her and Wanda while Clint and Sam were in the cockpit. “You know they’re basically a hive of criminals because of their no-extradition thing.”

Steve sighed. He didn’t want to admit he’d just rushed into a mission to avoid talking about feelings, but that was exactly what it was. Punching bad guys was something he could do without thinking at all. “I just want to get a lead on where this combat enhancer is coming from.”

“So, how about this,” Natasha suggested. “We send Clint in with Wanda to check out his old contacts, and the rest of us stay back in the jet unless we’re needed and you can tell me why we just took off to Madripoor with no preparation or even a plan.”

Steve conceded. If he’d really thought about it at all, he probably would have just sent Clint in with Natasha alone. Maybe with a couple of the unknown agents to go undercover and follow the leads Clint dug up. They put the jet down on the far side of the island under cloak and Clint and Wanda headed out in street clothes to find some leads.

“So, spill it,” Natasha said, stretching out on one of the medical gurneys and peeling open a protein bar. “Why are we here besides tracking down the combat enhancers?”

“Did Bucky talk to you?” Sam asked.

Sam whipped his head around to look at his friend. Of course, Bucky had needed to speak to Sam first, but to actually admit what he did, Steve was more than a little surprised. “You know?”

“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “I thought it would be good for him so he wasn't feeling so shit all the time. Didn't expect you to run off on him. That's… Pretty shitty, Steve.”

“Oooh… What is it? What happened?” Natasha said sitting up.

“Last night, after we got back from our date, Bucky told us that he had feelings for us,” Steve explained.

“Bozhe moi,” Natasha cursed. “So you don't feel the same way. He's your best friend, you don't just cut him out. I wouldn't have expected such an asshole move from you, Rogers.”

“It's not that,” Steve said, putting his hands up defensively. “The problem is I do have feelings for him. I love him. But I'm seeing someone and I love her too. I don't know what to do.”

“And he said he had feelings for you both?” Natasha asked, tilting her head to the side as she assessed him.

Steve nodded. “Yeah… it’s a mess. And I guess… I run into battle rather than dealing with emotional stuff.”

“Hey, look at you,” Sam teased. “Spouting back shit you learned in therapy.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. He likes both of you. You like both of them. Is she not into him?” Natasha asked.

“I have no idea. They seem close,” Steve said. “What are you suggesting?”

Natasha groaned and rolled her eyes. “Haven’t we already had this conversation? You’ve seen that monogamy isn’t the only way to be happy with me and Clint. Find the thing that makes the three of you happy.”

Steve furrowed his brow. Growing up while he wasn’t so ignorant to not realize when friends he had were gay or that there were people who might be married they also had someone else on the side, he’d had it drilled into him, it was man and wife. He’d been excited when he’d woken up and found out that gay marriage had been legal. Still, he’d always just pictured that ‘two people and picket fence’ life. Even with Natasha and Clint seeing each other and anyone else they thought might be interested, they still chose each other first. “Can I do that? That… I can’t actually do that, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes again, while Sam shrugged. “How about you take a little something for yourself for a change, Cap?”

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #running to a standstill

285 notes · View notes

mourntheantagonist · 4 years ago

Text

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration Of Beauty

Part 7: When Blue Met Pink

chapter one: joyce

also on ao3

Billy pulled into the parking space outside of Melvald’s with a screech of the tires. The body of the car slightly jerked forward once he finally came to a complete stop just before he would hit the yellow parking block. The right tire sat just outside the white line, a rookie looking parking job to say the least.

With his wallet in one hand, and his keys twirled around the index finder of his other, as he heard the metal pieces clank, he walked through the glass doors into the store. He heard the chime of the opening door ring through the mostly empty space.There were only a few people. An old lady who was carefully inspecting the soup aisle, and a middle aged woman with her toddler son who were walking past the ice cream. The little kid with his hand up in the air, his finger pointed to the tub of rocky road that was barely visible through fogged over glass. He noticed the exhausted eyes of the woman masked by heavy mascara and shadow. “I already said no Daniel.” she sighed. Joyce Byers was at the counter, her elbows resting by the cash register, head propped up in her hands as she stared blankly in front of her with her head tilted in a way that indicated she was thinking about something that the rest of the world just couldn’t comprehend.

He ignored the total three figures that roamed the aisles of the small little corner store, offered a wave and a smile to Mrs. Byers that went completely unnoticed, and got to the task at hand. Not there to pick up some milk or butter like Neil always had him do whenever they ran out, as if he was the one sneaking spoonfuls of butter at two in the morning. No, that was all Max, the fucking weirdo. He also wasn’t there to pick up a pack of cigarettes, though he probably would once he got to the counter, considering the phrase “pack of reds” served as his default greeting to every cashier. He was there, at Melvald’s, at three in the afternoon, like a fucking sap, because he was buying little treats for the boyfriend he had waiting for him at the big house off of 3rd avenue, a movie and hopefully more as their evening plans.

He knew what Steve liked. He hated what Steve liked. But despite his utter disgust over strawberry fruit snacks tainting delicious cheddar cheese popcorn, the smile on Steve’s face whenever he tossed a new box of Sunkist Fun Fruits at him was worth the effort of sifting through the bowl. He located the snack aisle and picked out the familiar yellow and red box, along with some Orville Redenbacher. The time on the clock overhead read only a quarter after three, and Steve wouldn’t be home from dealing with the nerd herd until at least a quarter ‘til, so with his extra time, he continued to browse.

He picked up a couple of other things. A box of Twinkies so he could make some of his favorite jokes, some Ho Hos so Steve could make some of his. The basket was slowly filled to the brim with junk food, indicative of a truly wild night ahead of him.

On his way to the refrigerated section to scope out the drinks, the glimpse of a carefully assorted rainbow of colors stopped him in his tracks. It’s a small section, no more than two and a half feet in diameter, but at almost the instant he recognized the familiarly shaped bottles on display, he went on complete pause. There was nobody anywhere around him, no sound of nearing footsteps, so he let himself stand there and ponder. Let himself imagine just reaching out and touching something on display as he kept his eyes averted, locked straightforwardly toward the cases of beer behind translucent refrigerator doors. He just stared blankly, with an inner attempt to form some reasonable excuse to be a man who was looking at makeup.

“Oh, Max asked me to pick it up for her.”

He settled on that one.

And turned his head.

He was just going to look. That was all.

There held a whole magnitude of various beauty products, from polishes, to moisturizers, to lipsticks…

That rosy pink stared right back at him like it was screaming at him to pick it up. To look. To swatch. To taste. To feel that velvety cream cover his lips. A tint similar to that of his own lips but just more… pretty. Smooth and elegant and airbrushed. “Soft matte look,” it read.

He wanted it.

He wanted to add it into the basket of goodies he’s already collected as another treat for himself. Maybe a treat for Steve if he decides he likes it.

They discussed it in the past in a very, tip-toed around the subject kind of way. Steve gently held his hand in his as he applied a light pink varnish, similar to that of the lipstick shade, onto his nails. Steady hands perfectly coated the area without any sign of streaks or rough edges. They’d reached a point where that was routine, a little thing Billy could have of himself while they were alone together. Another thing they could add onto the list. It was something Billy felt just a little bit of safety around taking with him that one time. When the night had gone so perfectly with hot cocoa by the furnace, and the added bonus that Neil wouldn’t be home to inspect his appearance, he said no to the cotton balls and acetone and the clear coat replacement and instead let color coated nails remain under the cloak of his jacket pockets. He was on cloud nine as he walked through the door of his own house with concealed hands and no questions asked. He locked the door to his room and allowed himself to stare down at his hands. Fingers splayed against his bedding looking at how the pink contrasted with the blue of his sheets, and he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and a little dash of pride.

That same night, while his nails were going from bland to bold, Steve popped the question like it held no weight at all. Like it was just a casual sort of thing used to fill the silent gaps.

“Have you thought about wearing makeup at all?”

He didn’t even look at him when he said it, completely enthralled in the way the bristles contacted the nail, so he didn’t see Billy's eyes widen like saucers. However, he did notice as the hand in his hold began trembling.

Steve ever so slightly tightened his grip to help reduce the shaking, his eyes angled up at Billy finally, the painting temporarily discontinued. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

No. Yes? The thing was, with Steve’s first question, the answer was yes. He had thought about it. All the damn time. Like a woodpecker pecking away at his skull, he thought about it. Every time he saw a woman with a shimmer on her eyes, black in her waterline, a shine to her lips, a rosy tint to her cheeks… he felt unbridled envy. He wanted to feel the way they felt. Billy wanted powder to clog his pores and give his face a uniform color. Become a blank slate. He envied that soft and smooth and gentle and pretty appearance.

He found himself on more than one occasion sneaking into the master bathroom where Susan had kept all of her make up. Too scared to touch it, he would just look at it. Try to psyche himself up to reach for that little tube of Mary Kay mascara and shove it into his pocket before the rumble of the truck outside would shake the house.

Instead he would slam the drawer shut and rush back to his room and forget it even happened as he bit away at his clear coated nails. He’d fall back onto his pillow and let his eyes fall shut. He would let the darkness consume him into a dream where he didn’t have to be afraid to add volume to his already long lashes or add a tinted gloss to his lips. He’d enjoy the free feeling for as long as it would last.

So yeah. He thought about wearing makeup.

He didn’t tell Steve that though. Instead he chose to only respond to the second question. Because some things were just a little too hard to say out loud. Some things were a little too foreign.

As much as Billy wanted to bridge that gap between femininity and masculinity, he also had every desire to keep them separate. To push away all of those urges to wear lacy lingerie and silk panties. Keep his hair short, face and nails bare and unkempt. Smell of sweat and hard work like a man. “I’m fine.” he said in lieu of the complete truth. It didn’t feel or sound like a lie when he said it. But later on he figures out that it definitely was.

They had that conversation already, but it didn’t keep those thoughts from lingering. His mind was boggled with confusion about who he was and what he liked and the additional bafflement over how simple it all was to Steve.

So simple in fact that he said the most perfect thing as if it was just another instinctual flick of the tongue.

“Well I can bet you’d look real pretty with lipstick.”

It was said like he wants it. Not just for Billy’s sake, but his own, and that right there felt amazing.

That was the first night he finally let his hands sift through that drawer of Susan’s and sneak away a couple of items. Susan and Neil had yet to arrive home from their trip into the city so Billy was safe. He had painted nails that felt like a shield. When he held the tube of mascara, the nude bullet lipstick, and the only bottle of polish he could find in his own hands, he felt completely untouchable.

He locked himself in his own room and stood in front of his makeshift vanity. Tossed the stolen objects into the mess of cologne, hairspray, and cigarette ash. He just studied himself for a moment. Hunched over taking deep and shaky breaths, in and out. Every logical thought in his mind was shouting at him to go put it back. To put it somewhere other than his room. That dreadful thought that just its temporary occupancy in his room would be easily detected by Neil, even if he chucked it out of his window right then, scared him. It was all too risky to be doing in his own house, yet he still twisted open the cap of the mascara and pulled out the wand.

It was in that moment that Billy had no fucking clue what he was doing. Didn’t even know where to begin.

He just closed it right back up, slipped it underneath a stack of records, and moved on. He twisted open the lipstick only to be met with a very light shade. Lighter than his own skin color. Applied to his lips it just looked absolutely ridiculous. It didn’t give him that pop of vibrancy he envied in the women he saw. It made his lips feel more sunken in and lifeless, rather than big and beautiful.

And he already knew he hated the nail polish. He didn’t even have to apply it. It was a rust color, like a dirty orange. Billy hated the color orange, and mixing it with brown didn’t fucking improve it.

It was all a total bust. A complete waste of his energy. With his sleeve he wiped the lipstick from his lips and stowed away the rest of the contraband. He went to bed feeling extra shitty, the despair of empty darkness was the only thing included in his night.

He stopped letting himself think about makeup since that night. All it achieved was making him feel disappointed and just... bad. No other way to describe it.

But it all came flooding back when he saw the display. Not the bad feelings, the good ones, the ones he had in his dreams. The feeling of completion that couldn’t be realized with the makeup Susan guilt purchased off of a friend’s “growing small business.” There was a little hope growing in the pit of his stomach as he let himself peruse the many options at his disposal. A little bit of hope that maybe he just didn’t have the right stuff.

He just held the pink lipstick in his hand. He debated between dropping it into the basket or hanging it back up on the hook. Twiddling it in between his fingers, he let his mind race to many different places. Emotions of fear and joy clashed in his mind, like he couldn’t have one without facing the other.

But fear wasn’t dependent on joy. Because a small woman cleared her throat next to him and, surely enough, the only thing he was feeling at that moment was complete terror. Not an ounce of happiness to be seen.

It was Joyce Byers.

Well shit.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, neck craned to the left to make out what he had tightly clasped between his fingers.

“It’s for Max.” he said, too assuredly. Like it was clearly a prepared statement, the lie obvious in the pitch of his voice.

“Really? Max doesn’t strike me as a makeup girl.” It’s not really accusatory, not necessarily. But he could hear it. That ever so slight undertone in her voice that had disbelief written all over it. Her head was cocked just like it was when he first walked into the store, and it felt like she was reading him like a goddamn open book.

Billy couldn’t seem to find the words, unsure how to defend himself in the situation he was completely unprepared for. Stood there in silence as he let the words filter through his brain, waiting for the right ones to pop up in front of him, but they never did. He never really knew how to talk to older women other than through excessive and overdone flirtation.

“What shade did you pick?”

With no other choice in his immediate thoughts, he handed the lipstick tube over. She slowly took it away from his slightly too tight of a grip. She had a slight smile when she pulled off the cap to see the rose colored tip slowly rise out as she twists the bottom of the silver tube.

“This is pretty, though I think a shade like this would complement a skin tone more like your own. Wouldn’t you agree?”

That was the invitation, right there in that subtle little nod. She made eye contact with him before she quickly turned her eyes downward at his hands. the same hands that were nervously chipping away at dried, hideous, rust colored nail polish that he painted just before he left as a little surprise for Steve. Even though he hated the color, even though his right hand looked much better than his left. Ambidexterity was not something in his wheelhouse. He immediately stuffed his one free hand into his pocket, and tossed the other one that was currently holding his basket of groceries behind his back. As if she hadn’t already seen. She’d figured him out like some elementary math problem. The lipstick and the nail polish was just a 2 + 2 = 4 kind of situation.

“I don’t - this isn’t…” He couldn’t get a full sentence out because he really had no clue as to how to deny it, and there’s also a weird feeling that he loathes where he’s not sure he even wants to. She was just Joyce Byers. His only connection to the woman had a pretty long chain. Steve’s ex’s boyfriend’s Mom. Or Max’s friend’s Mom. Nothing direct. Nothing so close that he had to truly fear. Additionally, she was being nice? She wasn’t doing the things he’d always expected people to do. She wasn’t spewing slurs or making fun. There was a genuine motherly interest in the way she asked for the color that wasn’t completely foreign, but it was something so far away in his past that it might as well have been.

His face got red from just his own natural blush. His heart was racing, beating out of his chest until he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He felt like he’s being submerged under water until there was a small, cold hand pulling at his own.

“Come with me.” she says, her voice soft and planned. Billy just let her guide him, giving up and giving in to the little temptation to let someone else inside of the little sanctuary he built for himself. Even if all it was was just a small little glimpse into Billy’s secret world he’d only just begun exploring. He had so many things left to discover, things he wouldn’t find if he let his fear and shame dictate everything.

Joyce led him into the compact supply closet in the back of the store. They’re surrounded by shelves filled with boxes and various miscellany. He felt slightly suffocated in the small enclosure, but simultaneously a weird feeling of warmth in the way Joyce smiled at him. A soft upturn of the corners of her mouth, lips still sealed but the sincerity clear in the brightness of her eyes and the slight rise of her brows.

“What were you looking to get?” she asks. Unspecific yet specific. She left a name unattached to the end of the question on purpose to give Billy the opportunity for an out, if he wanted to deny the thing they both knew to be true.

“Lipstick? Gloss maybe? I don’t - I’m not sure I…”

After taking the full basket from his hands and setting it onto the floor, Joyce took his hands into her own again.

“It’s okay, y’know, if it’s not for Max.”

She was so straightforward. She just got right to the point without it feeling like an attack. Just strode right in with unwavering acceptance and affirmation. Letting him know that it was okay.

He looked at Joyce and saw his mom. Not the mom who abandoned him with Neil, but the mom who did things like this. The one who would cradle him after a nightmare and who told him he was destined for greatness. The one who encouraged him to be himself even when his father had other ideas.

“You know who you are. Nobody else gets to say differently.” she’d tell him when his father forced him into baseball and threw out his stuffed animals. Neil would go on to replace the keepsakes that represented softness with model cars and legos. It was just an act of toughening him up and preparing him to become a man at the ripe old age of seven. He was reminded daily of his role as a man in society with little tests just to make sure he stayed in line.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.” he’d say, when he wanted to say purple.

He’d get berated when he cried when he got hurt.

“If you want to cry I’ll give you something to cry about,” Neil would say, as he stuck a hydrogen peroxide saturated cotton ball into the open wound.

Billy’s Mom never did that. Always warned him about the sting and rubbed his arm the whole way through. Preaching the opposite of everything his Dad would say. “It’s okay to cry, honey. Just let it out.”

His Mom was beautiful. He loved to sit in the bathroom and watch her as she put on her makeup. He’d seen the way her mouth dropped open when she applied mascara to her eyes, the way she smacked her lips together after she swiped on her favorite red lipstick... he wanted to be just like her.

He’d stolen from her once, and it didn’t end well. It was just a red lipstick. He was caught, almost literally, red handed. When his father had barged into his bedroom without so much as a knock, the red on his lips turned into red elsewhere. It was a mistake he learned never to repeat.

After all that, there he was, in a store where he listened to a woman tell him that all of the things he was raised to believe were far from okay, were perfectly okay. With Steve’s voice in his head echoing that of his Mom’s and Joyce’s, he let himself actually believe it this time.

“Thanks.” Billy said. It’s the closest thing he’ll get to an admission. He can’t outright say it, but in the way her smile widened before she turned around, he knew she understood.

“So,” she said, “–I have some product we can’t sell because the seals were broken. They’re still perfectly fine if you would like them.” She pulled a couple of things from the box on the lower shelf. The same lipstick he’d held out in the store along with a clear gloss, a small eyeshadow palette, some face powder and mascara. A full face worth of makeup moved from the palms of her hands into his own, accepting them with a nod of his head and the sniffle of someone trying to hold back tears.

“Are you sure?” he asked. A question with multiple meanings. All of which Joyce seems to pick up on. She pulled him into a tight hug. A warmth encompassed him all around that made him feel so overcome and just… good. Joyful and free like a painful growth was painlessly removed along with the truth’s reveal.

“Yes. I’m sure Billy. It’s okay.” An answer with multiple meanings.

They both exit the small closet, it felt like a metaphor for something. He headed up to the counter to buy his items, and Joyce began scanning his things when she got another smile on her face.

“Special occasion tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah. I got a hot date.” Not a lie.

She laughed a little before she punched the keys on the register.

“Anything else I can get for you Billy?”

Billy smiled.

“A pack of Reds.”

- : -

When Billy pulled into the driveway of Steve’s house he barged right in through the front door. He held the paper bag close to his chest and he shouted an “I have arrived!” that echoed up the stairs and all the way up to Steve’s room. Billy could hear the springs of Steve’s bed before he got up and rushed down the stairs to greet him with a little peck on the lips, immediately taking the bag from Billy’s hands to begin the formal review of his selections.

Steve set the bag onto the coffee table and began to sift through all of the things Billy bought. He tossed the cigarette pack at Billy with aggressive force before going right back into the bag.

The real surprise laid close to the bottom of the bag, hidden beneath the Twinkies and the popcorn and all the other junk food that had Steve beaming. Food was truly the easiest way to Steve’s heart.

Billy stood there tapping his foot and grabbing at his hands behind his back as he waited for Steve to see all the other things he got, to give him that little reaction he always knew would be positive, no matter the voices in his head that told him otherwise.

He seemed to have reached the bottom of the bag when he stalled. He just stared into the bottom of the brown paper bag, the table already covered in scattered candy and snacks, the only things left in the bag were the gifts from Joyce.

“Please tell me you’re going to put this on tonight.” Steve finally turned to look at him with an absolute ridiculous smile on his face. His mouth and eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider than they were right then. He seemed so fucking excited and it all radiated straight into Billy, and all he could do was walk up to him and kiss him. Billy pulled Steve’s face with both hands and practically consumed him like he was one of those Hostess desserts. Two untameable smiles pressed up against each other.

Billy reached for the tube of lipstick out of the bag and held it in between the two of them, he asked, “Are you going to help me put it on?”

Billy was wrong. Steve’s smile could get wider. Steve took Billy by the hand and sat him down on the couch, taking the bag with him as he straddled Billy’s lap.

“You know what you’re doing pretty boy?” Billy asked. He pushed Steve’s hair behind his ears as he looked up at him in awe. He relished in Steve’s excitement that was perfectly matching his own. It was all he could ever ask for.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve seen Nancy do it enough times.” Billy rolls his eyes at the mention of her name. Steve poked him in the face, causing Billy's face to scrunch. “Oh get over it Billy, I am.”

Billy was already shaking with anticipation and just wanted to get on with it without the mention of Steve’s former girlfriend. “Just shut up. Make me the prettier one.”

“Oh you already are, gorgeous.”

Steve twisted open the lipstick and carefully held Billy’s chin up so he was looking directly at him. With a steady hand and a soft touch, the smooth cream brushed against his lips and coated them to perfection. No overdrawn lines or transferring to his teeth, the color suited him so well, just a soft pink just slightly darker and more vibrant than the color of his own. It made his lips look bolder and fuller than they already were.

“Now look straight forward for me,” Steve said before he reached into the bag for another piece of product. “–and raise your eyebrows.” Steve twisted and pulled the wand from the metallic gold tube, the black bristles looked like spider legs. “Okay, hold still.”

“I swear to God Steve, if you poke me in the fucking eye–”

“Have some faith in me, damn!”

Fortunately for both Billy and Steve, none of the black goopy liquid found its way into Billy’s eyes. There was only a minor sting that, with time, he could easily see himself get used to. The sensation was followed by the feeling of soft bristles going in circles around his cheeks. Steve had asked him to smile for the application, but that wasn’t the reason he was doing it. The look of focus in Steve’s eyes along with the slight exposure of the tip of his tongue through his mostly sealed lips had sent Billy reeling.

Steve leaned back to get a complete view of his work. “Wow, I’m good.”

“Okay, hot shot,” Billy said with a nudge to his shoulder, “show me then.”

In a moment of surprising strength, Steve hoisted Billy up and over his shoulder by the grab of his ass. Billy’s stomach had come to rest right on the point of Steve’s shoulder, which sent him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. His voice fluctuated and bounced with each step Steve took down the hall toward the bathroom. Billy clung to Steve’s shirt, hiking it up past the midpoint of his as he did so.

“Oh my god! Put me down!” he laughed.

Billy’s legs flailed, with the result of a knocked over a lamp and a bruised ankle from the abrupt contact with the doorframe.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

Steve sat Billy on the edge of the sink, his face still faced away from the mirror. They were still coming down from their laughter when Billy, seemingly having forgotten about the makeover that he had just been given not even a full minute ago, leant down in an attempt to lay one right onto Steve.

“Hey, don’t ruin it before you even see it!” Steve pushed him back away from him and then helped him down from the sink and with a comforting grip of Billy’s biceps, he turned him around. “See? it looks so good on you!” Steve stood behind Billy with his hands trailing down to his waist, head over his shoulder, looking at him like he was his brilliant creation. Steve Harrington’s masterpiece, his most prized possession. “Wait right here, I got you something.”

Left alone in the bathroom, Billy was able to just let himself stare. Let himself lean in close to the mirror, his nose nearly touched the glass as he studied the tint to his lips, the definition to his lashes, the slight pink to his cheeks... It was the first time he ever looked at himself, like really looked at himself, and saw someone pretty. He truly believed it this time.

Steve came back with a bag of his own. It was a small bag with a French name on the side of it Black, and elegant, and Billy already had an idea of what’s inside. The day just kept on getting better. Billy tore the tissue out of the bag, and pulled the pieces of fabric out. It was a dust rose garter belt with stockings, panties, and a bralette, a perfect match for his lips. The lace was so sheer and the baroque floral patterns were so elegant he wanted nothing more than to just put it on right there. Strip himself down to the bare essentials and allow the openwork to protect him.

“You think you wanna give me a fashion show?” Steve asked, pulling the sleeves of Billy’s jacket down over his shoulders. Billy smiled and pushed Steve gently out the bathroom door and shut it right in his face.

He wasted no time putting it on. The way the fabric sat on his hips and his chest felt almost like it was tailored specifically to him. Enough room in the crotch area while also perfectly hugging his hips. The stockings squeezing his thighs just the perfect amount. There was no uncomfortable overhang in the bralette. He had never felt more comfortable wearing anything before. The pink on tan skin, the emphasis on every curve of his. He felt so soft and pretty and almost totally complete. He was just missing one thing.

Billy strutted out of the bathroom with a genuine conviction he’d never had before. There was no fear this time, no tears. Just pure elation at the prospect of Steve seeing him like this. Loving the way he looks in lingerie and makeup. Loving him for who he is and thinking he’s still hot. Still sexy and attractive.

“Holy shit you look fucking amazing baby.” Steve slowly walked toward him. He took in the whole view, committing the entire sight to memory because it was absolutely glorious. “I hope you aren’t mad,” he began, his hands finding Billy’s hips. “but I had my Mom pick it up while she was in Paris. I found out they make men’s lingerie there and I wanted you to have something special. She doesn’t know who it was for, but she knows I’m dating a guy now.”

They had never really discussed the topic of coming out. It felt like something that didn’t need to be said. Telling people was something so far off the radar of possibility that Billy felt a creeping sensation of absolute dread before he was finally able to open up his mouth to speak.

“And she was okay with it?”

Steve smiled and bowed his head just slightly. “Surprisingly, yeah. She was the one who wanted to pick something up for you. So I jumped on the chance.”

“Does your Dad know?” Steve laughed and shook his head.

“God I hope not. His brain would probably explode.” Billy pulled Steve in by the hold of his cheeks, and let their foreheads touch while they stared deep into each other’s eyes. Steve’s hands traced up and down the curves of Billy’s body, fingers dragged against the lace and their smiles were uncontrollable. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”

“Hey,” Billy’s voice was soft, “I’m happy for you.” Steve's sigh of relief was hot against Billy’s mouth. “And thank you, for this.” he said before the distance between them was finally closed and lips were pressed to lips, pink color smeared all over each other’s faces.

The only thing better than wearing that lipstick was having Steve ruin it.

next part

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mandi writes tresh

31 notes · View notes

rightintheguts · 4 years ago

Text

The Witch of Birmingham

Chapter Two, below the cut.

“Huh, Monaghan Boy won.” Ruth commented offhandedly, casually flipping to the next section of the morning paper. Bianca paused in her idle stirring, gaze sharpening as she paused in her people watching, and took in the woman across from her.

“What, really?” Ruth nodded, before returning to her previous page, and folding the paper back so Bianca could read it. After scanning the bold print of the headline before her, a smug grin broke out across Bianca’s painted lips, causing the other woman to dramatically roll her eyes and groan, as the topic at hand fully hit her.

“Well, I guess you have two choices: pay for lunch, or pay the five shillings you owe me.”

“I still have no idea how you knew--were you tipped off?” Bianca smiled enigmatically, shrugging a single shoulder.

“Call it a gut feeling, more like.”

Her friend shot out an indelicate snort, “That’s some ‘gut feeling’, you got there.”

Looking out towards the canal, Ruth took upon a look of consideration, before cutting her dark eyes back to Bianca, who decided to finally finish off her tea. “Who’d you think will win the next one?”

Bianca smiled over the rim of her cup, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I’ll only tell you, once you pay for lunch, and give me the five shillings.” Jaw-slacked, Ruth balked at her friend’s audacious demand.

“You’ve got to be joking!” When Bianca continued to grin--she threw in a brief brow wiggle for the hell of it--Ruth forced her mouth shut with a snap, then sighed in resignation; already twisting towards her purse.“You’re a bloody menace.” she growled.

“I know, that’s what makes me so endearing!”

Snorting once again, Ruth valiantly tried repressing a smile. Waving down the waiter, she paid for the pair’s lunch; afterwards slipped the betted money to her friend as they were leaving the cafe. Bianca obnoxiously counted the money aloud, knowing it would immediately irritate her friend, then she unceremoniously stuffed her winnings down her shirt. Ruth shook her head at the woman’s actions; looking at her expectantly, she pulled out a pack of Camels, plucking one out for herself, before offering one to Bianca, whose face scrunched up in distaste.

“I don’t know how you can smoke that rubbish.”

“Like this.” Placing the pack away, she pulled out her box of matches and lit the stick, inhaling a long drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. Bianca rolled her eyes, pulling out her own pack.

“Sweet Aftons, or nothin’--you’re goin’ to smoke, do it right.”

They then spent the rest of their lunch period walking through town, doing a bit of window shopping, and gossiping about their colleagues at work. Bianca listened as Ruth began to prattle on about her neighbor, who couldn’t take a hint.

“I finally informed David that I wouldn’t go out with him, even if he was the last bloke on this God-given Earth!” she rolled her eyes towards the heavens. “Which went completely over his fat-head; he asked me out thrice more, before I had to lie and say I had to go visit my sick mother.”

“Your mother passed when you were ten; God rest her soul.” Bianca crossed herself, while her friend gave her a flat look.

“I know.”

Laughing at her friend’s tale, her mind went to her own neighbors, the Hughes. Among the many changes her life had undertaken, since that day three weeks ago, the married pair was one of them: instead of being woken by a pair of screeching Banshees, she was now woken by the furious banging of the Hughes’ headboard. Bianca had to admit, she was impressed; though the couple were far from teenagers--they sure did fuck like ones. Well, good on them.

“So? Who's going to win, eh?” Ruth’s question, broke Bianca from her thoughts. Blinking, she hummed, tapping a finger to her chin. She began a mental conversation with herself, her expressions morphing too fast for Ruth to decipher, before settling on a look of agreement; a resolute nod soon following.

“Bet on Monaghan Boy, he’ll win again.” Ruth raised a brow.

“That sure are you?”

“Whose the one short of five shillings? Oh, plus the ten you paid for our lunch?” she smiled impishly at Ruth, who grumbled and stomped out her cigarette butt.

“Touche.”

__________________________

The very moment she punched out her time card, Ruth was on her. Intertwining their arms, the other woman barely gave Bianca time to place her card in it’s slot, before she was practically dragging her out the office doors, and onto the cobbled street. Shooting a bewildered look towards her friend, who looked as if the Devil himself possessed her--God protect her--she inquired as to why Ruth was in such a hurry, to which the woman rolled her eyes.

“We’ve got to get to the betting shop--before they stop taking bets!” Finally understanding, Bianca picked up her pace, soon matching Ruth’s hurried strides.

They swiftly weaved through the influx of people, and practically ran across the bridge, entering Small Heath with barely a breath in their bodies. Ruth took the lead soon after, having made the trip to the betting hall several times, and Bianca tried her best to keep up with the woman’s long strides.

Once the pair reached the building, which was fit to bursting with eager men waiting to bet their money away, Ruth finally paused in her hellish pursuit, allowing Bianca to finally regain her breath.

“All right, here it is: how much should I bet?” Ruth asked, releasing Bianca’s arm while she began rifling through her hand-bag.

“Have you already paid rent?” She asked. Her friend looked up with a quirked brow, before nodding. “Then all you have on you.”

Dark eyes widening, Ruth held the Bianca’s stare; about to ask if she was serious, but decided against it. Mouth snapping closed, she grabbed her friend's hand, and the pair began to push their way to the front of the crowd. Both women ignored the curses, and disgruntled looks thrown their way. One man had went so far as to block their way, but with a swift kick to the shin (courtesy of Bianca), and a rough push (courtesy of Ruth), the man was swiftly dealt with.

Reaching the book keeper, who only spared them a raised brow, he gruffly asked them who they were betting on. Ruth released Bianca’s hands, and reached for her purse; and much to the surprise of everyone around them, she unceremoniously dumped the entirety of the contents of her bag, onto the table. Shillings and pennies fell upon the table, some rolling off the worn table, but Bianca was quick to snatch them up and placed them in the pile of currency.

Some cosmetics also fell from Ruth’s bag, but once again her friend was there to collect them and get them out of the way, a lipstick almost making a successful escape attempt, but Bianca had managed to stop it’s pursuit.

A few notes also joined the pile, before Ruth pushed all the money towards the now slack-jawed book-keeper.

“Monaghan Boy.” she proclaimed, attention turning towards Bianca, who had taken it upon herself to return her friend’s things back into her bag. The man set about counting Ruth’s money, also shooting an expectant look towards Bianca’s idle form. Catching both looks, Bianca sighed good-naturally, and reached down her shirt. “Oh, what the hell--Monaghan Boy for me as well.”

Slapping down the five shillings she had won onto the table, the man was quick to collect the coins, plus the single note she hastily decided add; writing down both amounts down in his thick, leather-bound book, before asking their names to attach to their bets. Ruth gave hers, and Bianca followed suit.

The most curious thing happened as soon as she did; immediately, she felt a set of eyes fall onto her, causing her body to unconsciously straighten, becoming tense and alert. With practiced subtlety, she casually cast her gaze around the shop; blue eyes bouncing from man to man, before they were caught by a set of glacial orbs.

She froze for a moment, her mind processing, before it finally registered on who the person--man --was. Thomas Shelby, I’ll be damned; wonders never cease.

He stood between a pair of Blinders--one of which looked as if he lost a fight with a bear. Both hat and jacket absent from his person, quietly conversing with the duo, but his sharp gaze was locked solely on her. Though wariness had initially welled up at the sight of him, she couldn’t help but smile at him, the memory of that day swallowing up her caution, and replacing it with giddy amusement. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as she caught that ghost of a smirk make a brief appearance, before it vanished as quickly as it came.

Before she could decide if she should approach him or not, the choice was made for her, when Ruth suddenly linked their arms once again, and maneuvered them out and away from the betting hall: she couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or not.

“Well, I guess drinks are on you then!” she shot Ruth a questioning look, who was quick to inform her that they were going out tonight; that Bianca was going to go home with a nice bloke, and have raunchy sex till dawn. Said woman blew out a scoff, shaking her blonde head.

Ever since she revealed that she hadn’t had sex in two years, her friend--among many of her female colleagues--made it their personal mission to get Bianca laid: much to said woman’s annoyance.

“After all: you’re a young, beautiful woman who deserves to have a plethora of suitors at her beck-and-call.” Bianca disagreed; she didn’t need a man in her life.

“It’s not about needing a man, love: it’s about going two years without sex!” She threw Bianca a look of incredulity. “What’re you, a nun? Next you’re going to tell me you adopted a stray cat: the damnation of any single woman--might as well join a convent!”

Bianca was about to laugh at Ruth’s proclamation, but the sound died in her throat, her face drained of color. She stopped in the middle of the street, forcing Ruth to jerk to a stop and stumble in her heels. Before the woman could ask, Bianca swore; revelation crossing her pale face.

“Dear, God: I need to get laid.” Her friend looked at her accusingly, mouth flopping open in horror.

“You adopted a fucking cat.”

“I’ve been contemplating, whether or not I should adopt a cat; there’s a difference!” With a harsh proclamation of ‘Just barely!’, Ruth once again began their trek to the nearest pub, only this time, Bianca didn’t trudge along, she matched her friend step for step.

#No hate to cat lovers #I swear #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fandom #thomas shelby x oc #fanfic #thomas shelby

12 notes · View notes

gloves94 · 5 years ago

Text

Kingdom of the Sun [Fire Lord Zuko] 2

Chapter Warnings: Steamy smut, thigh grinding, cursing Rating: M Pairings: Zuko/OC - I have written a NSFW tollbooth so you can skip that part if you want :) Kingdom of the Sun MASTERLIST Last Airbender MASTERLIST My MASTERLIST

The air grew colder and dryer as a large metal trade ship approached the Southern Water Tribe, sailing through dark waters and dodging every odd iceberg and glacier on the way.

Tsai hugged her body closer gripping the fabric of her beige parka, she brought her cold palms into her mouth and breathed into them. Her breath visible before her eyes in white puffs.

Her brother had encouraged her to come to this ceremony. Her mother had strongly opposed against it.

“Tsai, I have repeatedly told you over and over again,” Her mother warned. “Mom I’m going, no matter what you say-“ “It’s not about the boy- it’s not about him…” Her mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “But you have to understand that it is not safe. Is it not enough to wake up to riots and protesting? Tsai someone could hurt try and hurt you and by hurt you I mean kill.” Her mother had almost begged her not to go. However, the guilt trip was not enough. She had promised to keep a small profile to give her mother some peace of mind and took a small ship with a matching crew of less than ten people.

Despite never having been to the Southern Water Tribe the nation was similar to its northern sister, the ice desert seeming just as cold, yet not as desolate the bay crowded with numerous ships that were docked in from different parts of the world. It was almost nighttime when she arrived. Just in time for the celebration.

Despite having spent most of the trip self-consciously analyzing her imperfections in a mirror and nervously doing her hair over and over again, it was quite never perfect. She hesitated before getting off the ship, unsure if she would run into her ex-boyfriend or not, yet the nervousness still lingered, uneasily twisting her stomach into knots.

She had a feeling she would see him. She’d never admit it out loud, but she had in part come in hopes of running into him.

The party was lively and filled with plenty of familiar faces from all corners of the world. Pleasant ambiance music was being played. The celebration was being hosted outdoors in a snowy plaza covered under a massive tarp from which colorful lights and decorations hung down from. It was a beautiful set up. Very beach, wonderland wedding vibes. The plaza was near an icy ledge which allowed guests to a lovely view of the horizon. She glanced around the crowd and saw no sign of Zuko. Sighing, almost in relief, she walked around looking for the newly engaged couple to congratulate them. It took a while before she spotted them standing with some other members of the Water Tribe.

“Tsai! You made it!” Aang said excitedly embracing his friend. Katara also hugged her and introduced her to Kanna, her grandmother and her husband, a waterbending master, whom Tsai was already acquainted with, Master Pakku.

“Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe,” Chief Hakoda, Katara and Sokka’s father, said welcoming her to their land. “Hope it’s not too cold,” he added with a slight smile noticing how the girl kept her cold hands hidden inside of her parka’s sleeves.

“It’s bearable,” She said with a tight smile. “You’ll get used to it. Just stay away from the water. If for whatever reason you fall, you’ll go into hypothermic shock and be dead within minutes.”

‘Geez, well that’s comforting…’

“How was your trip?” Katara asked. “No assassination attempts or bombings so I guess you could say successful. I’m just happy to be here.” She laughed nervously.

“Tsai, there was something else that we wanted to ask you,” Katara began and exchanged a look with her fiancée. “It’s just that, well, when we visited you last time. We fell in love with the palace and we were wondering if we could have the wedding in the former Colonial Palace?” “We also think it would be safer. Considering the political climate…” Aang added.

The girl from Yu Dao blinked twice in surprised. They had a point it would be safer; the palace was basically impenetrable. She couldn’t decide if her mother would have a stroke or would be thrilled to having a wedding there.

However, how could she say no?

“We understand if you can’t or don’t want to-“

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean- yes. Yes! Of course, you can have it there! Aang’s right, it would be safer. Whenever you want.” She smiled at both of them.

Again, Katara threw her arms around her hugging her tightly. Who would’ve thought the two would grow to be so amiable considering the turmoil the two had had in the past.

“Hey Zuko!”

Her eyes shot wide open in panic as she saw Aang waving at someone behind her. She swallowed a heavy lump that had formed in her throat and exchanged a panicked look with Katara who nodded her head to the side. Tsai very indiscreetly ran away from the approaching Fire Lord and from her friends approaching the bar for some plum wine a delicacy around these parts. Carefully, hoping not to be noticed, she darted her eyes back to where the Fire Lord was now standing chatting with Aang and Katara. He looked absolutely regal, he was taller, impossibly more handsome than the last time she had seen him. His black hair was longer, worn in a half top knot Fire Nation fashion. He wore his royal head piece and he carried himself well as a nation’s leader should. He stood out like a sore thumb how was it that she hadn’t spotted him in the crowds? She was lost in thought when he suddenly turned, and his eyes met hers.

She almost spilled her wine when she rapidly turned back to face the bar. Face burning from the embarrassment of having been caught starring so boldly.

“Hiding from someone?” She felt a nudge on her side.

She turned to see Suki standing next to her also leaning on the bar. “Suki!” She greeted almost tackling her friend into a hug.

Suki explained that she was here as a guest and also an undercover along with Ty Lee. Both were keeping an eye on the Fire Lord as his personal bodyguards in case there were any assassination attempts. Years ago, Tsai had suggested to Zuko that he hire the Kyoshi Warriors as his personal guards since the Fire Nation’s were practically useless. Seemed like he actually took her advice. “He’s lonely,” Suki said as both girls walked away from the bar with their drinks. “He misses you. Do you miss him?”

Tsai lowered her eyes and took a distraught sip from her wine. Of course, she missed him. How could she not? She thought about him on the daily. “Yeah,” She admitted. “But I’ve been seeing other people. Or at least trying too… Do you know how hard it is to date when the Fire Lord is your ex-boyfriend?” She half rolled her eyes. Suki laughed. “Well, are you going to talk to him?”

“No!” Tsai responded a little louder than intended as panic filled her. “What would I even say?”

“What would you even say to who?” A manly voice asked loudly.

“Sokka!” She turned and gave her old friend a half hug. Tsai was about to ask Sokka a question when Suki interrupted with a sharp whisper. “Tsai, he’s coming,” She hissed lowly not breaking eye contact with her friend.

‘Fuck… fuck… fuck!’ How obvious would it be if she untangled herself from Sokka’s arm and made a run for it? She wondered if she could manage dodging him all night. She had to put herself together. Act normal. Stand up straighter, maybe a little taller. “What do I do? What do I do?!” She asked panicking shifting uneasily on her feet fidgeting with the sun stone necklace she always wore around her neck. “Pretend like Sokka just said something funny!” Suki whispered. Sokka looked beyond confused. When both girls threw their heads slightly and let out a loud laugh.

“Hey Suki-“ Zuko said as he approached the trio with that looked to be a pretend excuse. Despite speaking to the Kyoshi Warrior his golden eyes were locked in on his ex-girlfriend’s. Hers were noticeably fixed on him as well. A familiar tension suddenly becoming evident between the couple. Sokka removed his arm from his friend’s shoulders. She didn’t hear what he said to Suki. Much too struck by his presence, it was almost like seeing a ghost. She looked at his high cheek bones, his sharp jaw, even the scar on his face made him more enticing. His lips…

‘Oh no…’

She swallowed the wine she was drinking with a loud gulp.

‘He was hot.’ “You know, I always thought it would be you two first,” Sokka said bluntly referring to the marriage. She snapped her out of her trance. ‘Great. Way to add salt to the wound Sokka.’ She almost spit out her wine, slightly choking on it. The expression on his face unreadable as she avoided his eyes. She didn’t want to think about that. The last time they had touched the subject had been the day they broke up, it was a painful enough memory…

“Ty Lee needs you to untangle her braid,” Zuko said to his bodyguard in a serious tone.

“Sounds serious,” Suki said in a faltering tone. She made eye contact with her friend who lightly nodded as she was keeping her lips busy still sipping on the wine. “Come help me Sokka,” she said to her boyfriend. “But she’s right there! She’s fine!” Sokka pointed out dumbly. Girls were an enigma he’d never be able to figure out. Suki hissed at him to shut up and dragged him away leaving the ex-lovers alone and to themselves. There was a heavy awkward silence between them. The heavy tension seemed to linger. They hadn’t been in the same room in years. She couldn’t help but wonder just how much he had changed. Hell, how much she had changed. ‘Say something, say something, say something,’ she racked her brain for anything she could say or ask to him. ‘SAY ANYTHING.’ “Nice weather we’re having.”

Oh dear, he was still so painfully awkward. She couldn’t help but laugh a little at his comment. Something so simple which lightly eased the growing tension between the two. “Are you kidding? It’s awful,” she said glancing around at the icy tundra. “Everything is wet and cold and covered in snow. I wonder how Toph can walk around barefoot like that,” she responded her eyes drifting to the blind girl in the crowd. The thought of being barefoot in the snow made her feel even colder. “Well, it’s Toph. She’s tough you know?”

Again. That uncomfortable silence between the two.

Should she ask how he has been? How his mother and sister have been? Should they talk about something other than the New Ozai Society or the Anti-Revolutionary Movement? Maybe the fact that he gave her half of his lands?

But that was a story for another time… “So Aang and Katara huh?” She managed. “Yeah.” “They’re really cute. I’m happy for them.” “Yeah, same,” he said nervously holding the back of his neck. “They’re so cute- it’s kind of gross?” He gave her an odd look. “I mean they call each other sweetie,” She cringed and downed the rest of her drink seeking for some liquid courage. “I mean, we-we were never that corny.” She said addressing the elephant in the room.

This was really not going well. “Yeah,” seemed to be the only word of agreeance he could manage. He let out a weak scoff. “Never.” Both looked away awkwardly. Just in time, as it became night and the sky darkened the party progressed the music’s beat changed and they both noted how the people in the crowd started moving in unison either in groups or in couples. Swaying to an upbeat tune. “What are they doing?” He asked confused. “I think they are… dancing?” She responded just as confused.

Both being Fire Nationers the concept of dancing was completely foreign to them. The art of it had been outlawed for the past one hundred years, both never having witnessed or partaken in the activity. Everybody looked happy dancing, lightly swaying holding each other at a close distance. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes working up the courage to ask her to dance. Maybe it had been years, but the spark was still there, hidden, but he knew it, he could feel it and she looked- just wow…

“Uh, I don’t know how to.”

Zuko snapped out of his daydream to see that guy from the Earth Kingdom, what was his name been, Haru, asking her to dance. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you!” He said encouragingly stretching out his hand to her. She looked at it hesitantly, but he didn’t give her a moment to think it over. “Come on,” he grinned grabbing her hand and dragging her away to dance to an upbeat cheery dance that involved a lot of twirling.

Tsai looked back at Zuko’s who’s eyes had narrowed as he glared daggers at the back of Haru’s head. He glowered with his arms crossed over his chest starring with jealousy as the two danced, even if she was stepping on Haru’s feet the whole time.

“Ty Lee!” Zuko barked at his other bodyguard. Meanwhile said girl was busy flirting with some Water Tribe boys and turned to give her boss an irritated look. “Let’s dance,” he commanded grabbing her hand and pulling her to the dance floor not even giving her a chance to say no.

At first, he moved awkwardly unsure of where to put his hands or how to move his feet. Ty Lee, however, was more graceful; all eyes were on the acrobat as the music continued getting louder and faster. The dance shifted into some type of traditional Water Tribe dance where everybody danced in a circle spinning their partners into the arms of others.

Tsai continued stepping on Haru, profusely apologizing. She felt awful about it. Regardless he was nice and continued dancing, giving her a twirl and a spin, letting her go for a moment. Sokka caught her and did the same, as it seemed part of the dance was switching partners. He did the same and twirled her to Aang who twirled her to- “Y-You’re supposed to twirl me!” She protested with a nervous stammer to Zuko who was now holding her at an arm’s length. However instead of twirling her he was greedy and kept her away all to himself. She felt vulnerable under the intense way his eyes were locked on her face. Her face felt warm.

“Oh, I guess I forgot,” He said sheepishly letting her go. The song was over, and people stopped dancing. People around clapped and the band suddenly began to play a slower tune. Both looked around and saw couples starting to get together and sway to the slow music. She looked away from him and began to walk away when she felt she was being held back. She looked back and saw his hand holding hers. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a request. It didn’t sound like he was asking either. She scoffed a little at his sudden demanding nature. Yeah- right. What would he do if she refused?

“You don’t even know how to,” she couldn’t help but laugh at his demand. He arched an eyebrow giving her a meaningful look. She sighed and joined him. After all, what was one dance right? She held him at arm’s length a hand on his shoulder the other in his. His other hand snaking around her waist and resting on her lower back. She swallowed nervously when he pulled her to him completely pressing his body against hers.

Why was he so warm? Why did he smell so good? Why did her heart pace quicken like that? “See? Easy?” He said as they danced right before stepping on her. “Right,” she said in a strained voice, wincing slightly at the pain. He mumbled a painful apology and despite the ache she couldn’t help but laugh a little. She looked up from her feet and saw the way he was looking at her and she couldn’t help but melt in his arms. And just like that. It was almost as if no time had passed in between the two of them. She relaxed, smiling a little, returning the endearing look. She sighed before resting her head on his shoulder. She missed him. She missed him so, so, much. His expression mirrored hers as he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Tsai, I’m ready,” he suddenly said. “For what?” She asked perplexed, continuing to lightly sway against his body, barely lifting her feet off the ground hoping not to step on him. “For the next step,” he said decisively. “As long as you don’t step on me again,” she sniggered playfully. “I’m serious,” she saw his lips were drawn into a sober thin line. “I’m ready to take out relationship to the next step.” She swore she could hear a needle scratch on a record somewhere in a loud sound in her head that made her snap out of her daze.

“Our relationship?” She pulled away looking at him startled. “We don’t have a relationship.” She was about to let go. She was about to run away and hide in the crowd, but he held her in place. “Tsai, look at me,” he spoke in a low tone holding her closer. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel it.” She struggled but met his warm, honey colored eyes. Her eyes moved down to his lips which suddenly looked extremly inviting. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to do it right here, right now. Yet- she remained silent, slightly shaking her head attempting to pull away from his touch. She couldn’t be with him. They shouldn’t be together. Not when- “Don’t. Run away.” He whispered in her ear, hands firm on her body, planting her on the spot. His hot breath against her skin sent chills down her spine. He pressed his forehead against hers. “It wouldn’t be fair…” She whispered back to him in a voice filled with pain. “I don’t want to make you…” She shook her head again slightly, alluding to one of the main reasons why they had broken up. The song was over and they both pulled apart when they heard clapping. She cleared her throat and joined in on the clapping.

“I need a drink,” she said nervously returning to the bar. What was this her third, maybe fourth drink?

Zuko’s eyes trailed after her, watching from a far. He sighed to himself.

It was then that the ground trembled violently. Some lost their balance collapsing as a massive explosion blew up in the docks erupting in a massive cloud of smoke. Snow going up in the air and falling like hail.

BOOM! There was another explosion and another, dark snow and flames blowing up in the air in the plaza around them. The music stopped. The crowd scattered unsure of where to go.

Tsai looked turning her attention to the plaza where everybody was when she suddenly felt a blade being pressed against her neck from behind. She gasped lightly at the surprise attack and elbowed the figure in the stomach before ducking. She turned to face her assailant, the bar tender, who held two blades one in each hand.

She reached into her sleeves and pulled out a pellet that when cracked against the floor became a smoke bomb. Her attacker coughed and swatted at the fog, she ran opposite of the explosions towards the ledge. The attacker emerged from the smog coughing loudly and ran towards her with his blades up. This time however, she stood her ground and pulled out the two hidden blames she always wore under her sleeves.

“Who sent you?” She demanded to know as both engaged in a knife fight.

Zuko saw Aang, Katara and the rest of the original Avatar group disperse as they divided to check on guests and on the nearby explosions. He turned back and his eyes went wide when he saw the auburn-haired girl under attack.

“I’m going after her!” He said out loud to his bodyguards. “Go with the others! Make sure everyone is okay!” He didn’t hesitate in rushing to her side. He saw her reach for her assailant and drive one of her blades into his torso in a fatal wound. The man bent over in pain, but he held onto her arm as fell back off the ledge dragging her down into the abyss with him.

“No!” Zuko shouted rushing to the edge, he could see the crimson dotted spots of blow staining the snow in a stark contrast. Peering over the ledge he saw nothing but an icy ocean that stretched out for miles ahead. The wind blowing harsher and louder on the edge cliff. In the ice below a dark hole of broken ice from the impact of the crash and fall. He stepped down without caution and slid down the icy slope, running down, almost falling twice. He stepped on the ice which cried in protest to his weight, he removed his long cloak and braced himself for the cold before leaping into the icy, dark waters. The cold didn’t affect him due to his mastery of his fire bending nature. Underwater he could see a dark string of water going up to the surface. It was blood… Looking down he saw the enemy sinking deeper into the ocean, at some distance was Tsai also sinking unconsciously from the terrible shock of the freezing waters which stabbed you like knives. His eyes squinted as he attempted to peer into the dark waters and past the sea salt that itched. It took him a moment to reach her. He held her tight against him and swam up to the surface almost out of breath. He pressed his palms flat on the ice and used his fire bending to break free. He regulated his breathing, spitting out yellow flames, keeping himself warm like his uncle had taught him.

He held her trembling body close, she was silent, remaining mute from the shock of the hypothermia. He picked up his tossed wool cloak and wrapped it around her. Looking up he could see smoke emitting from the top of the cliff. Going up wasn’t safe, it wasn’t a choice. The first priority was getting her warm before the hypothermia or frostbite set in. He spotted a nearby hole in the wall, a possible makeshift cave and took her there. He carried her wrapped in his cloak, she had already been tipsy, which only made matters worse. She was trembling violently, her face was pale, lips were turning blue and her wet hair stuck to her face. Clothes dripping with freezing saltwater. She had a glazed over disoriented look in her eyes and her speech was slurred as a symptom of the shock. He wasn't an expert, but his uncle had once lectured him on the effects of hypothermia and how to avoid it the last time they had been to the north pole. From what he could see she was still conscious and the fact that she was shivering meant that the effects of the hypothermia were thankfully mild. He set her own her feet and she stood wobblily, her knees weak, the disorientation getting the best of her. He saw her stumble and collapse forward barely managing to catch her mid drop. Both falling to their knees. She was soaking, cold to the bone. His thick, wool cloak wasn’t of much use this way. “I have to take off your clothes,” he said reaching for the buttons of her wet parka almost as if waiting for her consent. Agni. It was a life or death situation. “Do it.” She managed to speak through chattering teeth. He undid her clothes quickly removing her parka and bottoms, leaving the poor girl to hug her shaking body only in her undergarments for the sake of modesty. She flinched at the flesh that became exposed to the cold pole’s night air. He was trying his best to be respectful and avert his eyes from her body, but they couldn’t help but wonder. He didn’t waste any time in wrapping the cloak against her completely engulfing her in it. The only thing visible was her face. He pulled her into his dry lap. He leaned back against the icy wall and with fiery breaths warmed his system thoroughly. Heat radiating from his body. She clung to him burrowing deep into his chest desperate for his warm touch, he lightly rubbed her back placing his head on top of hers trying his best to radiate some, but not too much warm. If he fucked up, she’d probably go into cardiac arrest from the harsh change in temperature. A moment passed and she was silent. Panicking he looked down and lightly shook her body.

“Tsai, tsai! You can’t fall asleep! You have to stay awake!” He said lightly shaking her body. She grumbled and let out a shuddering breath at the absence of his warmth. “I need you to touch me,” she whispered in a shuddering breath. He looked at her for a moment his eyes hard with an unreadable expression. With icy hands she reached for his warm ones and placed them on her sides underneath the cloak. She sat on his tight and greedily touched him needing more of his warmth. His hands roamed her sides, her arms and her upper and lower back, the light firebending in them making his large slender hands toasty, warm and inviting to touch. “I never thought this is how I would die,” she whispered dramatically against this skin. “You’re not going to die,” he said reassuringly gently back rubbing her body. Her body was ice cold to the touch.

She was already starting to feel better, the warmth returning to her body little by little, slowly as it should be. “Keep me warm. Please. I need you,” she quivered clinging to him desperately. Fisting the fabric of his coat opening it slightly to palm the bare warm skin of his chest. He saw that look in her eyes. They held in more than the wanting and need for his touch. There was another dark emotion reflected in her eyes. He warmed his breath, knowing that she’d be immune to the fire due to part of her nature which was made up of the Sun Spirit. The same part that made her be able to walk through flames and made her hair unnaturally red. Slowly he leaned in and placed a firey kiss on her neck. On that sensitive, tender spot just underneath her ear. The flames licking her body, sticking to her in a caressing warmth. His hands underneath the cloak sparkled lightly against her cool flesh with elicited flames. He continued kissing every exposed inch of her skin, each touch hotter, wetter, more ardent than the previous one. She stretched her neck to the side allowing him more room to paint in the canvas of her neck and with a deep exhale she let out a low moan. One that shook him to his core. He froze in the spot. Seeing as the two had never crossed that strongly marked line…

“I-I’m sorry,” she apologized and pulled back trembling slightly. She knew this wasn’t the sort of thing he was comfortable with and didn’t want to put him in that undesirable position. His eyes never left hers. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly, his hands rounding around the back of her waist once again sitting her on his thigh. She looked at him with a tentative expression. After all this had been one of the reasons of their breakup. “It’s okay,” he repeated in a comforting tone. Maybe… Just maybe like he had said he was ready for the next step… He breathed out a tongue of fire and took in a deep breath before diving in and kissing the underside of her jaw. One of his hands held her face, the other held a rough grip on her hip. His fingers digging into her skin. She sighed and her eyes locked on him giving him almost a feverish look. She remained unmoved, instead he moved up and caught her lips in his.

After all this time, it really was the same as before, nothing had changed. The spark lingered. Both felt a familiar warmth spread through their bodies. Her heart jumped to her throat. He stroked her face and she parted her mouth slightly, his tongue softly tracing her bottom lip. Scratch that- maybe it was even better than last time. She unconsciously rolled her hips forward letting out a throaty groan, wanting to ease the demanding tickling that had formed in between her legs. She wanted him. Oh, she had wanted him for years. She could feel him turning hard against her leg. She continued grinding against him, forward and back in deeper rolling motions. His hands like his skin were hot, his breath against hers steaming in clouds of white as she pressed his body against his. He let out a deep groan against her skin before kissing it. God, how he’d missed her. How touch starved he’d been all this time. She reached for his hands and testing the waters raised them up slightly, they trailed her skin, sending shivers down her spine before she placed them on top of her breasts. He grasped them lightly, his hands melting what she felt were hard icicle that had formed on her chest. Patches of her skin now glowing with a rosy glow from his hot touch, the paleness and blue frost gradually waning. Her hair and body now safely dry.

She rubbed her wet core against the rough clothing of his leg riding him as if there were no tomorrow. She strained in her breathing struggling to hold the lewd sounds she was making inside of her throat.

He observed the flustered expression on his face and wanted more. He throbbed for more. Moving a steady hand to her hip he followed her movements, pressing him down harder against her. She rubbed harder and deeper. She was so greedy to please herself, so desperate for that release. Until she let out a small cry her head tilting back slightly, breathing heavily as she reached her release. The knot that had formed in the pits of her stomach fantastically becoming undone. She sighed content. Coming down from her high. Both of her arms were wrapped around his neck, she lowered them to his chest and looked at him with a post haze from her momentary high.

She kissed him hard, harden than she ever had. Leaving absolutely no space between them. If she pressed herself to him any harder the two might’ve morphed into one. Both having forgotten they were in cave, that an assassin had just tried to kill them, that she had almost gone into hypothermic shock. “You’re shaking,” he said with a small smile stroking the inside of her arm.

She let out a little laugh. “Yes, but I’m not that cold anymore.”

He kissed her face while she spoke and again held her tightly against his body.

“I miss you.”

prev https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/624646290076205056/kingdom-of-the-sun-firelord-zuko-1 next https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/625334688597278720/kingdom-of-the-sun-firelord-zuko-3

107 notes · View notes

ayamari-no-goshi · 4 years ago

Text

Eidolon 12 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: Forced feeding of a drink

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

Chapter 12: Entrapment

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed since he had been in the room. There was no apparent clock, even if he could swear he could hear the soft, steady ticking of one, and he didn't carry a watch or phone he could check. Danny's eyes wondered to one of the white walls for a moment as he tried to imagine it with a non-frosted window. Even a glance outside would be better than nothing. At least then he could tell for certain if it was day or night.

Heck, even watching the scenery for a while would be an improvement over his current activity of lying face up on the eerily pristine bed and staring at the ceiling. He had already checked the entire room (including under the bed) six times for anything he could use to at least get out of the room, and he could only do that so many times before it started to get to him. The exhaustion didn't help. While he was searching, his limbs had decidingly refused to remain normal for more than a few minutes at a time. From the time the strange occurrences began, he had experienced a few bad days, but nothing compared to this particular one. It was almost as if simply being in the room was making it worse.

The ceiling held no answers or a hidden plan of escape, but he continued to stare at it anyways. He knew he should be trying to escape while worrying about Winston and his friends, but he was unable to summon the effort. It was almost as if an odd hollowness had replaced his heart. He slowly sat up as he considered the strangeness of it. Maybe it was just that exhausted, or maybe the room was getting to him more than he thought.

.....

A sweet smell caught his attention as he opened his eyes. Groggy and confused, he slowly sat up and stared for a moment as his brain tried to process what he was seeing. While he had been asleep, someone had placed a silver tray which held a small pastry and an unknown drink with a strangely appealing color on the floor. He was rather surprised he could see it from his location, but perhaps whoever had put it there had placed it there on purpose.

Curious, he slowly crawled off the bed and moved over to it. The pastry didn't seem like anything special, but he was starting to feel hungry and allowed himself to try it. The drink was different. He noted that whatever was in it was thicker than water and gave off a strong yet attractively sweet smell. It was also an unusual green color, which was what made him wary of it. The drink looked a little too much like the antifreeze he had occasionally helped Winston put into his car. He was probably being paranoid, but he was locked in room without any apparent way for him to escape. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that whoever put him there was going to eventually kill him. Isn't that what usually happened to kidnapped kids?

His eyes widened as the weight of his previous thought hit him. When a child went missing, didn't the news usually mention it was nearly impossible to find the child alive if the child couldn't be found within twenty four hours? And didn't adolescents fall into the same category when it came to the statistics? Panic welled up in his chest as he stared at his hands. Exactly how long had he been in the room? If anything, he was probably didn't have much time left. Well, he wasn't going to give up without a fight!

A guttural yell escaped him as he charged the only door in the room. The wood quivered for a moment as he bounced off of it and landed painfully on the floor. Undeterred and filled with resolve, he rushed it again and again with similar results. His whole body began to ache from the effort, but it wasn't enough to make him stop. He didn't want to die. He couldn't die! Not while his friends didn't know where he was (if they even knew he was missing), nor while Winston was still in the hospital. He just had to escape!

But he couldn't do anything if he was exhausted. After bouncing off the door about ten more times, he allowed himself to relax and rest against the side of the bed for a little before he tried again. His right shoulder was throbbing and his butt was sore from hitting the ground so many times, but he tried to ignore the pain as he examined the door. What was it made of? Steel? There didn't seem to be any sign of damage on it, but he had to have done something to it. When he recovered more, a closer look would be in order. Aiming for a weak spot would be far more beneficial than continuing to blindly run at it.

A though occurred to him as he looked at the door. Maybe he could pull the pins out of the hinges… It was so simplistic, it could actually work. Curious as to why he didn't think of it earlier, he slowly stood up and limped over. Wow, ramming it had taken more out of him than he thought.

He ran his fingers along the frame as he tried to find some sign of the hinges, but quickly realized it was futile. This door opened from the other side… There went that idea. Well, while he was there he might as well check the door for any signs of damage. There wasn't much to find, but there was some near the stubbornly locked doorknob. It wasn't as much as he had hoped but a few more hits to the right side of the door should be enough to at least get him out of the room. From there… he would have to wing it. He just hoped there weren't any other doors like the one currently keeping him captive out there. This one was bad enough.

Deciding it was not the best of ideas to attack the door again in his current state, he headed back towards the bed and laid down. He stole a quick look at the platter of food before he buried his face in the pillow. He was starting to get a bit hungry, but there was no way he was going to eat poisoned food. A growl combined with a gnawing feeling in his stomach entertained him as he drifted back into sleep.

…

"Why… won't… this thing…. Break?" Danny yelled as he kicked the door. After waking up, he had resumed his task of running at the door, but after no further progress, frustration had taken hold of him. He sighed as he banged his head off the door. If he couldn't get past something as simple as a door, how was he going to escape?

A clicking sound caught his attention. Glancing down at the doorknob, he noticed movement. Suspicious, he backed away and waited. The doorknob continued to rattle for a moment before a hard yank pulled the door completely open. The man who was revealed glanced at the door carefully before looking at Danny and smiling. "What exactly have you been getting yourself into? Hmm?"

"Y-you!" Danny stammered as recognition hit him. Vlad Masters had done well on his promise. Somehow the man had managed to take him from the police station and put him in this prison of a room. This was a worst case scenario… well, maybe not the worst. At least this man didn't particularly want to kill him, he hoped. "Where am I? What do you want from me?"

Vlad shook his pointer finger as if he was telling off a young child. "All in due time, my boy. But first, I must ask, how are you feeling?"

A blank stare was the only response Danny could give as he tried to process the question. This man kidnapped him and then turned around and asked about his condition. Was it him or did something just not add up?

Vlad took a couple steps into the room and glanced around. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the untouched tray of food Danny had carefully moved out of the way. "I see that you didn't touch your snack. I had a servant place it there in case you got hungry… It's been a couple days since I placed you here. You really should eat something…. Or at the very least, have a drink."

A couple days? He had been here for a couple days? Jeez… this room really did steal all sense of time. He shook his head. He would have to deal with it later; there were more important problems… like getting away from the madman in front of him. "Sorry, but that's been the last thing on my mind," he snapped.

Danny watched carefully as Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. From the limited interactions he had previously had with the man, he had learned enough to know Vlad was slightly annoyed. "Come now, Daniel," Vlad's tone almost matched the vary one Winston had used in the past when he was trying to convince him to do his chores. "Believe it or not, I do have your best interests at heart. Starving yourself isn't going to accomplish anything and neither is repeated throwing yourself against the door. You'll just be doing more damage to yourself than to it."

"Says the man who kidnapped me."

"I don't expect you to understand the reasons for my actions… at least not yet…" The older man moved to the tray to retrieve its lone cup before turning back to him. "But I assure you, everything was done for your benefit."

"Sorry if I don't believe you…"

"I assumed you wouldn't listen. We'll discuss this later once you've calmed down."

"'Calmed down'? Calm down! You've fricken kidnapped me! How the hell am I supposed to calm down?" His fists were balled and his shoulders tense as he spoke. It was taking almost all of his will power to not punch him in the face. Actually, that might not be a bad idea. Vlad didn't look all that strong, and he was a business man (they don't have time to work out)…. One good punch to the face should knock him out. And with the door finally being open, he could make his escape.

Without another thought, he charged Vlad. The older man looked surprised as Danny's fist came close in on its target. Danny smirked as he had a clean shot, but stumbled in horror as he landed. Instead of hitting a wall of flesh, his fist along with his body just passed through the man. Unsure exactly what happened, he slowly backed away. Glancing to his side, he realized he had a clear shot to the door and made a break for it.

Before he could even get through the opening, a strong pair of hands grabbed him from behind. He fought, flailed, and yelled in an attempt to break free, but whomever had him had a grasp like a vice. Apparently tired of his antics, his captor spun him around , let him go for a brief confusing moment, before using one arm to pin him against his body and to grab his chin with the other.

Being unable to move his head, Danny had no idea who was keeping him from escaping. Or, for that matter, where he had come from since it seemed like only Vlad had come alone. However, the person holding him felt unusually cold, almost as if he had been standing in a walk-in freezer just prior to him grabbing hold of him. Whoever this person was, he was a major obstacle in his goal to escape.

"Hold him still," Vlad commanded of his unknown aid as he approached the pair. Danny felt a little more than unnerved as he watched. There were no traces of kindness on his face, just a cold, calculating, business-like stare which sent shivers down his spine. "Daniel, I was hoping you weren't going to force me to do this, but as you've been rather uncooperative, you leave me little choice."

"W-what are you doing?" he stammered as Vlad held out the cup of the strange green liquid to him.

"It's simple really. You're body is already in the middle of realizing what it really is. This can take some time, but I know of a way of… let's just phrase it as 'speeding up the process'."

"I don't want any!" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a very childish thing to say, but he was absolutely terrified of whatever the drink or Vlad was going to do to him. "Get away!"

"You're in no position to give orders boy," the person holding him hissed into his ear and adjusted his grip so he could open his mouth by putting pressure on his cheeks.

Danny tried to break out of his captor's grasp, but he was far too strong. He barely managed a wiggle when Vlad poured the liquid into his open mouth. Unable to move, he was forced to drink the entire glass. Despite its sweet odor, it had a terribly bitter taste which was coupled with a burning sensation. It was enough to make him gag, and his stomach didn't appreciate it any better than his taste buds. The man who was holding him decided to let go of him, allowing him to drop to the floor, just in time to allow him to retch.

It seemed to take several long moments for him to regain control of his stomach. Once he did, he stole a look at Vlad, who seemed had a cold air of amusement around him. However, his attention was quickly taken by the figure besides the billionaire. It appeared to have a masculine shape, but it was clearly not human. Its skin had a sickly blue sheen, and its eyes were a sickening familiar soulless glowing red. An ethereal glow surrounded it as it floated a few inches off of the floor. Danny felt unnerved as recognition hit him; even though he had never seen it clearly before, this figure was the very same creature that had cornered him in the graveyard.

Vlad caught Danny's gaze and smiled. "I see you've previously met my associate, Plasmius."

Plasmius…? Why did that name sound so familiar to him? Wait… Winston had mentioned a person by a similar name when… His eyes widened as recognition hit him. "I d-don't understand…. W-why do you know it?"

"Whatever do you mean, my boy?"

"Winston… Winston said that he… it… attacked my parents. It's the reason why they're gone!" He weakly tried to stand, but his previous injuries from hitting the door suddenly seemed amplified making it incredibly difficult. "I don't understand. He said you were friends with them! Why… Why would you work with the thing that took them away?"

"It's rather simple, Daniel," the creature, Plasmius, told him with a wave of the hand. Without wasting another minute, it drove straight into Vlad. Horrified, Danny stayed rooted to the spot as Vlad's eyes glowed red for a moment. As they faded, a black ring which cackled with slight discharges of energy appeared around the man's waist. It then split into two and each one passed over one have of the body: one towards the feet, the other, the head. As they passed, Vlad's being was quickly replaced with that of Plasmius'. When the rings disappeared, Vlad Masters was gone; only Plasmius remained.

There was no way he had just witnessed what he did. It had to be a dream! There was no way a man could turn into a monster! It just wasn't possible!

"Can you really not believe what you just witnessed?" Plasmius asked as it floated closer to him. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run, but he couldn't. His fear had rooted him to the spot, and he was about to pay for it dearly. "Vlad Masters and Vlad Plasmius are truly one in the same even if one appears human while the other, a ghost." And, as to prove its point, it summoned the black rings again. Once they disappeared, Vlad Masters carefully dropped to the floor while continuing to move. "You asked me why I attacked your family. There are several reasons, but I suppose the primary one involves you."

"W-what do you mean…? Ugh!" As he spoke, a wave of pain raced through his body, dropping him down to his knees. He tried to steady himself by using one of his hands, but it refused by slipping through the floor instead of offering support. Danny stared at his arm in horror as the translucent appearance of his hand began to spread upwards towards his shoulder.

A chuckle escaped Vlad as he watched Danny's predicament with a sickening satisfaction. "Isn't it obvious? You're a lot more like me than you realize." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Do you believe in curses, Daniel? Even if you don't, you should as you're living proof of one. Legend states a family once delved too far into their work of studying the afterlife. To make sure their secrets would never be known, several powerful spirits cursed the family. Fifteen generations would pass before a male child would be born to them who neither completely belonged to the material or spirit realms…"

"Though this boy would appear human for his first fifteen years of life, he would come into his monstrous inheritance on his date of birth and forever after walk as a symbol of chaos." Vlad then knelt down and grabbed the boy's shoulder to make it easier for him to stare into his eyes. "Do you get it now? Everything I've done was to get a hold of you and the power you will soon possess."

"Y-you're lying! There's no way…! I can't be anything like you! You're a ghost… Th-they're dead! I'm not… I'm not…!" Danny pushed the older man away from his as he scooted backwards towards the wall. None of what he… no, it, said made any sense. Curse? Spirits? Did it mean it was going to turn him into a ghost too? He shook his head to try and clear away the thought. Vlad had said he wasn't going to hurt him… but that was before he showed him what he really was. What was he going to do?

A creepy laugh rang through the room. Vlad sneered at him as his laugh died. "Whoever said you had to die to become a ghost? But, you'll find out what I mean soon. It appears that the concentrated ectoplasm I gave you is finally starting to take effect." A satisfied look crossed his face while moving towards the door. "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. I'm sure you'll be a lot more cooperative when I return."

Danny barely noticed when Vlad slammed the door closed. His body was starting to feel like it was on fire burning, yet freezing him as it began to consume him. He convulsed as his body tried to reject the unnatural feeling, but it was to no avail. Time which was already slow within the room seemed to come to a crawl as the pain took precedence over every other thought.

Unsure what drove him to move, he tried to force himself to the bed. It wouldn't accomplish much, but its promise of comfort appealed to his wreck of a body. Every step was sheer torture, but the call of the pristine sheets was enough to force him to keep moving.

Another wave of pain rocked his body, sending him to the floor mere inches from his goal. He groaned in agony as he realized it was getting worse. In a last attempt for some stability, he desperately grasped at one of his bed posts as another convulsion coursed through his body. The pain that accompanied it was even more intense than the previous time.

He could barely move as the pain seemed to burn throughout his body. In a desperate attempt for salvation, he reached out his hand in hopes someone or thing would show him mercy and save him all the while wondering what he had done to deserve such a fate…

=========================================================

Notes: A couple of different things here.

1) Danny's thoughts and feelings being affected by the room is not as farfetched as some people might think. Prolonged periods in a purely white room can cause aspects of sensory deprivation (a disconnect with ones senses). Some people use sensory deprivation for reflection or meditation without negative effects, but it has been known to drive people insane. Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia has several examples of this in its history.

2)The statistics of finding a child alive 24 hours after abduction is horrifying nonexistent. While it is true that sometimes a captor will keep the abducted child alive for years, cases like that are so rare that if the police can't find sign of the child within a day, they know they will most likely not find the child alive.

3) Antifreeze does usually have a sweet odor (unless bittering agents have been added as a deterrent), and sadly, ectoplasm sometimes reminds me of it.

4)Do you recognize the last few sentences of this chapter? You should. They're a more stylized version of the opening I have in the 1st chapter.

#Eidolon #danny phantom #dp au #dp #danny phantom au #alternate universe #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #vlad masters #supernatural #paranormal #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy

9 notes · View notes