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separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

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The Great War

I vowed I would always be yours

Summary: Feyre Archeron's kingdom has been warring with King Rhysand for longer than she can recall. When, on an unlucky stroke, he stumbles upon her and her sisters locked in a tower, Feyre will do whatever it takes to keep him from finding them.

Even marrying him.

Happy @unofficialfeysandmonth2022 (but really LB appreciation month!) My only multi-chaptered offering.

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

A month passed without ceremony. Feyre was confined to the palace, under the careful watch of her new husband and his servants, though no one phrased it quite like that. Feyre knew, though. Guards watched every exit and if she came too close, she was always intercepted by someone with a well-timed diversion. Didn’t she want to read, or sew, or if all else failed, sit in Rhysand’s lap while he governed?

What Feyre wanted was to see Nesta. Or Elain, even, though what Rhys knew about Elain could have filled a teaspoon. Nesta was close enough that Azriel could get to her on horseback in the span of two days. And so for a month, Feyre played nice. She acted the part of pretty princess, devoted to her husband the way any good wife should be.

And it irritated her that Rhys could see right through her. That every night after he had his wicked way with her and Feyre asked if she could please just go, he told her no. After a month of getting nowhere with him, it was time to try a new tactic. She could explain it all to Nesta later, so long as they were together. The two of them could surely track down Elain.

Feyre was beginning to think Rhys wasn’t terribly interested in upholding his part of their bargain now that they were married. How long before Graysen realized Elain was hiding in the south and sought help from their king? Feyre didn’t trust that man not to hand Elain over, and then what? It would have been all for nothing.

She found her husband sitting pensively on his throne, staring out the wall of windows across the room. Lost in whatever thoughts plagued him. Feyre didn’t care enough to ask, just like she never asked what nightmares pulled him from sleep when they laid beside each other at night. The arrangement between them wasn’t built on romance or even deep, abiding emotions.

At the sound of her feet on the marble, Rhys looked up. Something softened in his gaze—she’d seen it before and it always made her just a little uncomfortable.

“Wife,” he murmured, beckoning for her with his large hands. He’d promised to have a throne made for her, and though she believed him, she didn’t think he was in any hurry to have it installed.

Feyre took a deep breath before letting him pull her into his lap. She had to fight the reaction to lean into his solid, steady strength or press her nose to his neck and drink in the masculine scent of him. That was for the evening, when she could lie in the darkness and give in to the strange lust coursing between them. Rhys never commented on it during the day so long as she didn’t keep up the pretense in the evening.

“What do I owe this little pleasure?”

“My sister,” she said, catching the flash of frustration over his features.

“We’ve been over this—”

“Come with me,” Feyre began, curling her fingers against his chest. “Surely you want to see Cassian? Just…Rhys, please. I want to see her.”

“And you’ll come home with me?” he asked. Feyre hesitated just long enough for him to shake his head no.

“There is no loophole to our marriage, Fey–” “I know there isn’t!” she exploded, trying to climb out of his lap. Rhys’s arms became a vice, holding her against him whether she wanted to be there or not.

“Then why are you so insistent on trying?” he demanded, his own anger catching her off guard. Rhys never let his anger show, weathering her own fury like battered rocks against raging waves.

Now, though, Feyre could see how much he’d held back. He seemed to writhe with cold anger, his eyes like eye chips set against his stone face. “I would take you if I didn’t think you’d vanish in the woods the very first chance you got.”

“You knew what this was,” she hissed, slapping at his chest. Rhys didn’t flinch.

“So do you. This prison is of your own design, Feyre. I would set you free if you swore you wouldn’t betray me.” “You still haven’t told me what my father took—or what he said when you told him we were married,” Feyre said, fully expecting Rhys to send her away. His anger seemed to explode in his starry gaze, as if he truly hated her at that moment. Good, she thought, even as hurt speared in her gut. If he hated her then he couldn’t be disappointed that she hadn’t fully bent to his will.

“He has my cousin,” Rhys told her flatly, releasing his grip on her. Feyre was so caught off guard she went tumbling to the hard ground just at his feet. Rhys didn’t reach for her, though she saw how he tensed, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her in pain.

“What cousin?” she demanded.

“Her name is Morrigan. She’s one of my generals,” he explained, rubbing an exhausted hand down his weary face. Feyre choked—she’d never heard the Illyrian King allowed women in his military, let alone elevated them into officers. Her surprise must have shown because a new, simmering heat in his gaze kept her kneeling at his feet, her body bracketed between his thighs.

“Yes, darling,” he murmured, reaching for the tops of her arms so he could pull her back into his lap. “My general. Equal to Cassian in every way—she commanded an elite unit of warriors. Imagine,” he added, his breath fanning against the side of her neck, “What you could be if you stopped fighting me.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she didn’t care what she might be with him. Feyre clamped down on the urge in order to hear the story of Morrigan. “If they’re keeping her, they never shared that with us.”

Rhys nodded his head, though she could see the flash of disappointment. “We’d been searching for the year. When we learned of the tower, we just assumed they were holding her there. It was difficult to get to and so far out of the way we never would have thought to check.”

“And instead you found me,” she said, unsure why it disappointed her so much. Rhys nodded, eyes sliding back to the window.

“I don’t regret that,” he told her. Feyre swallowed.

“You don’t?”

“No. If we hadn’t, you might…” he cleared her throat. “You would almost certainly be dead, and who would give me hell then, hm?”

“I’m sure you’d find a way to make another woman miserable,” Ferye informed him lightly, though it didn’t quite match how she felt.

“There is no other woman, Feyre,” he said, and Feyre couldn’t explain it, but those were the exact words she’d needed to hear. She wanted to lie and tell herself it was proof Rhys was so unlikable that the only woman he could convince to be his wife had to be coerced down the aisle…but it wasn’t true. People had been willing to kill Feyre so Rhys could remain single. And she saw the way the courtiers looked at him, even when she was around.

There was no shortage of women angling even then to be his mistress. To occupy a space in his bed that arguably still should hold space for his wife. Feyre knew that if Rhys decided to cast her aside, he could have had anyone he liked with a snap of his fingers.

There is no other woman, he’d said with so much heat in eyes that she’d had to look away. He’d spent their wedding night meticulously torturing high ranking members of his court to death not because they’d disrespected him, but because they’d hurt her.

It was too dangerous to contemplate that Rhys’s feelings went far beyond the practical. Feyre took a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you ask to trade me back for her?” Feyre asked instead, trying to pull the attention away from the confusing mix of emotions tumbling around her chest. Rhys’s face went blank just as it had in the forest when she’d asked him what her father said when Rhys had told Archeron he had one of his daughters.

Two, if Nesta being watched by Cassian counted. Feyre very much doubted she’d be allowed to return north anytime soon. “What did he say?”

Rhys hesitated and oh. Feyre understood, then. Holding his gaze as horror washed over her, she said, “You didn’t tell him you had me?”

“I…” Rhys swallowed hard, shaking his head back and forth. “He knows we came for you. He…”

Feyre waited, determined to hear him say it.

“He assumes I killed you. Everyone does,” Rhys added. Feyre scrambled out of his laugh, her anger threatening to drown her.

“And my sisters—”

“Nesta knows,” he amended hastily, rising to his feet as Feyre made her way down the steps. “Helion won’t let us speak with Elain. Fuck, Feyre, don’t look at me like that. He won’t confirm for anyone she’s even there.”

“He would if he knew you’d married her sister!” Feyre shrieked, furious with him. “How could you?!”

He made his way toward her, his steps much quicker than Feyre’s own. “Would you like me to announce it, then?” he demanded, hauling her up into his arms even as she flailed.

“Put me down!”

“Let’s go, darling. You want him to know—you want him to come for you? To drag you back to that fucking prison he was starving you in? Fine. Let's write the letter together.” “Rhysand you stupid bastard!”

He laughed, pushing open the throne room doors with ease—like carrying her was inconsequential to him. Even when Feyre hit him hard in the jaw, Rhys didn’t drop her.

“I’m stupid, am I? Stupid for wanting to keep you safe, from not wanting to see him show up with an envoy hell-bent on taking you back?”

“You could have had Morrigan back! What kind of moron–”

“Me,” he finished, dropping her unceremoniously to the rug in his office. “What kind of moron chooses you, right? What kind of stupid bastard decides to marry his worst enemy's daughter when he could have traded her back? That’s what you’re going to say, right? If I were smart I would have let him assume I’d sullied you and fuck, Feyre—” Rhys ran a hand through his hair before reaching for some glass trinket on his desk and flinging it at the wall. Glass exploded across the room, a manifestation of Rhys’s anger.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, rising carefully to her feet. She didn’t believe he’d hurt her. Feyre was starting to believe a lot of things about him, but she still needed to hear him say it.

“Because it was you,” he said, his voice raw with an emotion she was terrified to name. “Every time I tried, I’d see you slipping off that horse, or your haunted, hollow eyes and I…I just thought it was better if he wasn’t looking for you. If you could have time to yourself to sleep and eat and just be. Nesta is safe,” he added, guessing the slant of her thoughts. “And Elain, too. You have been so worried about them—who is taking care of you, Feyre? And…and why couldn’t it be me?”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” she said automatically, not thinking about why she said that. No one ever had, at least not in memory. All Feyre had was her sisters, united in their shared experiences with a father more concerned about work and power than he was with his family. She’d never imagined anything else.

Rhys nodded, running his tongue over his teeth with clear disappointment. “Right. Well. I’ll draft the letter and you’ll sign it. He’ll know by the end of the week.” Feyre’s heart thudded in her throat. Her life had been small by design. There was only room for her sisters because no one else had ever wanted to fit. Rhy was supposed to be a villain. His place in her story was supposed to be the bad guy who locked her away, who used her for his own gain before discarding her.

Not the man who’d let her out of her prison. Who’d freed her from that terrible tower? And certainly not her protector. Feyre swallowed hard as Rhys, defeated, sat in his leather chair to pen the letter to her father.

“What is Nesta doing with Cassian?” she asked.

Rhys’s eyes flicked upwards, wary. He held a pen gripped in his hand, a blank sheet of parchment before him. “She’s raising an army.”

Feyre couldn’t breathe. Every part of her felt too big for her body. “You’d help put my sister on the throne.”

“I swore, didn’t I?” he replied, still watching her like she might attack him at any second. Feyre was panting, was going to fall at his feet and cry which felt unacceptable. Feyre stepped towards his desk.

“You were helping before you made that promise,” she accused.

“Cassian trusts her,” Rhys replied simply. “And so I trust her.”

“Did you marry me hoping the future queen of the north would be easier on you?”

Rhys set his pen down on his desk before laying his palms flat on the wood. “I married you because I thought I would die if I didn’t.”

Feyre and Rhys faced off, the truth laid bare between them. “I could help.”

“I know you could,” he replied, slowly rising from his chair. He looked as if he was just controlling himself—the tendons in his neck were strained, his biceps bulging beneath his tunic. “How long before I can call you the Huntress of Illyria?”

Feyre’s eyes fluttered shut as she drew breath through her parted lips. “Say it again.”

“Say what, darling? That I married the Huntress of Illyria? That she’s my wife, and I would send her into battle if she stopped fighting me and started fighting beside me?”

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and opened her eyes. Rhys was watching her, every inch of him wholly focused on her.

“Kiss me,” she said. Rhys was there in two quick steps, yanking her against him like she was the only thing in the world. Feyre had never asked for that and some small part of her rebelled—like she should keep fighting him, even when it hurt her. When it accomplished nothing. Maybe her life could expand, her world made bigger for the only person who had ever really put her first. For the only man who had cared enough about her to choose her safety over his own goals.

She held him like a lifeline, arms around his neck as he hauled her up. One hand cleared his desk of everything, scattering more glass to the floor. Rhys set her atop the surface, kissing her hungrily.

Desperately.

The world might have ended right then and Feyre wouldn’t have noticed or cared. Not when his fingers dug into her hip, the other braced against the surface of his desk to keep them close together.

“Say my name,” he pleaded, stepping between her parted legs. “I need you to–”

“Rhys,” Feyre replied, certain she must have before. “Take me to bed.”

She was back in his arms, though his mouth never left her. Feyre kept her eyes closed, not caring who saw the king walking his wife through the palace, kissing her neck, her cheek, her mouth when he could do so without risking sending them both tumbling to the floor. Feyre thought she wouldn’t care where they landed—if she felt him press himself against her, that would be the end of it.

She was endlessly pleased when he brought himself to the bed with her, and just like she’d known in the hall, the heavy press of his body sent Feyre spiraling. He was steady. She’d imagined him like the rocks, herself like the sea, and that seemed apt as she fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, desperate to feel more of him.

Rhys helped, shrugging the black and silver fabric off his shoulders with ease. Feyre ran her fingers over the flexing muscles, kissing every inch of golden skin she could manage. Rhys wasn’t half as careful, fisting the fabric of her dress in his hands and ripping it clean down the center.

She liked the careless disregard, the desperation to get what he wanted regardless of what it might cost him. A dress was nothing, a few coins, and easily replaceable. His cousin, though…Feyre swallowed, pulling him against her not to kiss, but to hold.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her heart pounding. Rhys had made a decision Feyre knew she never would have allowed herself to make. If it had been her sisters or him, she would have given him up, even if it killed her. Even if she regretted it every day for the rest of her life.

And Rhys— “I still need you to help me bring her home,” he whispered, his own arms wrapped tight around his body.

“We will,” Feyre said, surprised by how easy it was to say that one little word. We.

He heard it. Raising his head, Rhys searched her face with hopeful violet eyes. “We?”

Feyre ran her fingers down his cheek, delighted when he caught her wrist and pressed her fingertips to his lips. “We,” she agreed. “And when you’re done here, maybe you’d like to hear my plan?”

“I’d like to hear anything you have to say,” he admitted, pressing his hips against her so she could feel his arousal. “Even if it’s only to say you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Rhys.”

His eyes fluttered shut—if telling him she didn’t hate him was enough to elicit that reaction, what would he do when she told him she loved him?

When. Not if, but when. It seemed like an inevitability to her, given he was practically radiating it himself. It was too much all at once, and so she silenced her thoughts with another bruising kiss. She could worry about all of that some other day. When she’d seen her sisters again and the world felt safe. When there was time to get to know him the way he clearly wanted her to.

“If I had known,” he was whispering, nipping kisses down her throat. “I would have tried harder for peace, if only so I could court you.”

She might have laughed if his powerful thigh hadn’t been pushing open her legs or his eyes weren’t burning with the honesty lacing his words. She tried to imagine him in that icy fortress her father called home, picking lint from the sleeve of his tunic and asking for her.

“I don’t think we’re the courting kind,” she gasped, arching when his tongue licked clean up the center of her.

“No? Maybe not,” he murmured, pulling her closer to his mouth. “I would have liked to try, all the same. My pretty, vicious Feyre. You would have kept me up at night. You did keep me up. I have thought of nothing else but you since the moment I first saw you.”

Feyre arched back into the bed. “I thought it was when I stabbed you.”

He hummed his approval, his tongue swirling over her clit. “Thinking and plotting are two different things, my darling,” he gasped, drawing out his words so he could continue licking. “I merely thought of you day and night before then.”

“Have you—gods Rhys, don’t stop—considered that you’re deranged?”

“All the time,” he laughed, sliding his finger into her body just like she’d asked him to. She liked when he started her this way—with his mouth and hands, until she was mindless with need.

She never tired of it—never tired of him. Feyre dragged her hands through his thick, dark hair, pulling him closer until she was practically riding his face. He liked it, too, if his thrusting hips were any indication.

Feyre was loud, unable to contain the scream that ripped through her when she came. Rhys was greedy, demanding another before he relented. She knew he thought he’d left her boneless on the bed, that he could climb atop her and do exactly as he liked with his cock. That she’d be wholly at his mercy.

She waited until he was out of his pants before she pounced. He laughed when she pushed him back to the bed, pinning his wrists over his head. Straddling his hips, Feyre was momentarily blinded by his easy, infectious joy.

“You’re beautiful,” she breathed. She hadn’t meant to say it, just as she hadn’t meant to scream.

His expression softened. “You make me so.”

What was supposed to be hungry and raw was suddenly made soft. There he was, telling her he loved her without saying the words. Feyre didn’t know how to respond and was relieved when he angled his hips so she could slide slowly down the long length of his cock.

Feyre held herself there for a moment, bracing the weight of her body against his wrists. Rhys arched his neck, his back, and finally his hips when it became clear Feyre meant to torture him. She liked taking her time to adjust to the fullness of sharing the same body and was, perhaps, not ready to begin.

She rolled her hips, trying so hard to fuck him slowly. Just once, she thought she would have liked to drag the first time out. And just like they always did, that first drag of skin against skin made them both hot and hungry. Desperation sparked through her veins, demanding she claim him, and all at once, Feyre’s careful plans were abandoned.

“Feyre,” he moaned, straining just enough against her hold that it seemed as though she truly had him pinned. She knew there was no contest—if he wanted to free himself, he would. Rhys was exactly where he wanted to be, doing the one thing he seemed to want to be doing every minute of every day.

He wasn’t the only one. She was utterly wrecked, watching the arch of his back as she worked him, drowning in the slick heat of her own arousal. Releasing was building all over again, pooling in her stomach, her cunt, her limbs, and her throat. She could feel him everywhere, like each new stroke of his cock had invaded her very blood. Feyre chased after it, drowning in pleasure until she broke apart again. Rhys was just behind, breaking free of her hold to bring her crashing down against him, his own hips thrusting up and down until her breasts bounced in his flushed face.

Strong arms held her against him. Feyre didn’t fight, though she did kiss him, slow and deep until she was tasting her own arousal against his tongue. Rhys spent himself, hips jerking like he couldn’t control himself. It wouldn’t have been unusual had the sun not been pouring through the drapes—there was no night to hide herself in. No pretending.

She held herself soft against him, until he rolled her to her back and pulled himself out with a wince. Not pain—but the ache of no longer being connected by one beating heart. Rhys rolled to his back, eyes only on her.

“Tell me this plan of yours.”

Two weeks.

Feyre’s feet flew across pine needles and fallen leaves, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder lest she find him just behind. She had to make it before dark or she’d be stuck in the frigid forest overnight.

Her legs ached by the time she erupted, falling to her knees when the tattered hem of her dress tangled against the satin of her shoes. Anyone looking closely might have noticed the reinforced soles—the leather lined in wool to keep her feet warm.

But no one was looking at Feyre’s feet as they rushed across the boundary for her. They didn’t notice the fullness of her cheeks or the brightness of her eyes.

“Are you okay?” A set of familiar brown eyes burned with concern. Ferye looked up into the face of her father, thinking Elain wore all his features so much better. Twisting, Feyre made a good show of her fear as she scanned the treeline for Azriel. He would be just behind—too easy for Graysen and his men to capture.

It had been the only way to convince Rhys to agree. Abandon Elain to the south and hope that Helion would treat her well, and instead send Azriel with Feyre. A prisoner and an escaped daughter, freed from the horrors of Illyria.

“He’s coming,” Feyre said, gripping at her father as though she needed his protection. Did he realize she’d never hugged him before that moment? If he did, he kept it to himself. Feyre sank into the role she’d sworn she would play. The terrified, helpless damsel skittered backward in the mud when Graysen returned. Azriel had his wrists lashed behind his back and a purpling bruise on his cheekbone. She wondered how much of his pride he’d had to swallow to allow Graysen to give him such a thing.

“The shadowsinger,” her father breathed, forgetting her entirely as he rose to his feet. A group of soldiers all stared Azriels down with a mix of fear and awe. They believed in their king, in their general. In Graysen’s might, to bring in the famed, terrifying warrior.

Unaware that Azriel was exactly where he wanted to be. Azriel locked eyes with her as she shakily rose to her feet. No one paid her any mind in their rush to taunt him.

That was just as well. If they’d truly looked at her, they would have seen the slight smile on her lips. They might have noticed the way her dress was strangely puckered at the hips, concealing not just the blade Rhys had given her, but Azriel’s own as well. Azriel cocked his head, hazel eyes never leaving her face. Not when Graysen punched him in the gut—a cowardly move, given Azriel was already bound.

Feyre nodded her head only once. They’d come to free Morrigan.

And to let Rhysand and Nesta walk right through the gates of her fathers city.

Feyre smiled.

Game on.

#feysand #feysand fic #feysand month #mommy is being hot and insane again #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand

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1kook · 4 years ago

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one man, no hands

— a some way, some how jungkook drabble summary “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.” warnings established relationship, mechanic jungkook, business woman oc, cunnilingus / eatin out, jk is dirty like in the literal sense rating m (18+) wc 2.5k

notes am i confident in the title? no. am i stubborn and feel like it has to follow this pattern out of some weird self made obligation? yes, please help me. anyway here is 🔧⚙️ jk and his hot girlfriend once more <3

For the most part, you like to believe you were a pretty composed person. Sure, there are a few instances in your personal history where you exploded, sobbed, cursed the planet to hell and back. But given your chosen career track and the amount of stupidity you dealt with on a daily basis, you’re significantly more mild-mannered compared to your peers. That being said, you were by no means the dictionary definition of serene. After a long day of meeting clients around the city, a rather unsatisfying lunch, and atrocious city traffic—all while breaking in a new pair of heels—there was nothing more satisfying than pulling up to Jungkook’s empty auto shop and huffing out one long, “fuuuck.”

Jungkook doesn’t mind. “Hey, gorgeous,” he calls from over his shoulder, looming over the open hood of yet another innocent vehicle. The metal table beside him holds every tool imaginable. “How’s my sexy department manager doing today?”

“Terrible,” you confess, heels clicking against the concrete floor. You realize he’s hunched over his own car today, a rather rare sight if you’re being completely honest. Jungkook wasn’t the biggest fan of working on his own car(s) at the shop, something about pride and refusing to admit something was wrong with them in front of people who looked up to him. Men, you chuckle, finally closing in on him.

He’s terribly sweaty, the sweltering heat turning the inside of the garage into a human microwave. “How’s my sexy mechanic doing today,” you hum, throwing all reservations aside to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek. Jungkook, as always, makes sure to nuzzle into the touch.

“Pretty good,” he replies, taking advantage of your affectionate nature to set aside the tool that had been in his hand. You watch his sturdy fingers reach for the hood of the car, carefully shutting it because he knows you hate the smell of metal. The rag tucked into the pocket of his red jumpsuit is littered with stains, and the half-assed wipe of his hands against it doesn’t help.

When he turns, that same hand attempts to reach for you, the remnants of oil buried beneath the tips of his fingernails. “Hey,” you warn, intercepting him at the wrist; you’ve spent one too many nights at the local laundromat trying to remove oil from tweed.

Jungkook frowns, shakes his head to the side in that infuriatingly sexy way that not only lets you see the dark furrow of his shapely brows, but also has the tendons in his neck bulging just the slightest. “Give me a kiss,” he pouts, pretty pink lips fighting off a smile. “I missed you.”

Hands holding onto his wrists, you lean forward, your pointed heel tapping against the dirty toe of his work boots.

One of your greatest contributions to society was introducing Jungkook to strawberry flavored chapstick, a deed that the universe pays you back tenfold with each kiss he bestows upon you, lips so soft and sweet. If you look past the distinct smells of the auto shop and Jungkook’s own natural scent, you swear you can smell the strawberries.

It is as you’re trapped in this train of thought that Jungkook manages to overpower you, abruptly stepping forward enough to throw you off balance. Your gravity shifts, and while your heartbeat may spike for a moment, you know he’d never let you fall. “Easy there, beautiful,” he grins, one tatted arm wrapped around you. He’s got that stupidly cocky grin on, the one that usually proceeds some stupid or horny thought.

Lo and behold, a second later he says, “can I eat you out?”

You roll your eyes, placing two hands against his chest. Jungkook takes it as a sign of your approval and moves in for a second kiss, only for you to shove him away with a huff. “You haven’t even showered, smelly,” you chide, straightening out the front of your blazer in a rather snooty manner that has Jungkook scoffing.

“Please?” he tries again, not the slightest bit phased by the unimpressed look you throw his way. “I’ll wash my hands.”

“Jungkook,” you level, settling into one of the many rolling seats that decorate the floor of Jungkook’s garage, your cell phone placed down on the metal table nearby. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the familiar paper wrapping of the deli down the street, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you eat at Shin’s for lunch? I don’t want your onion breath on my intimates.”

Jungkook steps in front of you, looking down at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Well then,” he says calmly, and then, drops to his knees in front of you. It has you jolting in surprise. Before you can accidentally send yourself rolling across the floor, Jungkook catches your ankle in one hand, tugging you forward until your knee presses against his side. “It’s a good thing that was Jimin’s lunch and not mine.”

“Kook,” you gasp, the muscles in your legs weak against the grip he has on the back of your knees. The muscles in his forearms tense up as he slowly pries your thighs apart, leaning down to place a rather soft kiss against your knee. The tenderness of his kiss shouldn’t be surprising, but it never fails to make you inhale sharply, hands slowly coming to rest against his shoulders.

The brush of your fingers against him has his eyes flickering up to meet yours, strawberry sweet lips curling into a smile. “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.”

One shaky exhale later, you find yourself slowly nodding along, fingers burying themselves within the dark tresses of his hair. “No hands,” you remind him one final time, letting him manhandle you out of your panties. “And be gen—“

Your words are swallowed up by the surprised squeak that slips through your lips upon Jungkook’s first long lick over your slit. “I’ve got you,” he chuckles, the low and breathy kind that makes your skin tingle. “Hold on to me.”

“What the— fuck!” you exclaim, pulling at his hair in sheer fright when he whirls your chair around suddenly, pushes you the three feet until your chair is bumping against the front of his bumper, appropriately named. “Jungkook,” you scold, roughly yanking him up by his hair. “Don’t do that.”

“Shh,” he hushes, but the shock still has your heart thumping a little too quickly. You pinch his ear. Jungkook shakes you off just as quickly, throws you a childish glare. “You’ll need the support.”

The opportunity to question him never comes, because a second later Jungkook is tugging you forward in your seat, knees neatly placed over his shoulders for easy access to your pussy. You did need the support, you realize, back pressed against the curve of the hood as Jungkook begins the rather torturous process of teasing you.

As promised, his hands rest over your thighs, thick fingers digging into the soft skin as he descends upon you, one featherlight kiss pressed against your mound. The polite greeting of his lips is followed by the not-so-polite greeting of his tongue, the warm and wet muscle caressing your clit.

Your breathing hitches, a pleasant warmth settling in your core. It blossoms quickly, stamps out the remnants of fear from a few minutes ago. Jungkook’s tongue plays a key role in that change, nudging your clit back and forth carefully as he listens to the subtle alterations in your breathing.

After the day you’ve had, the delicate way Jungkook laps against you has you melting, both into his touch and against the cold metal of the hood behind you. “Oh,” you pant, eyelids fluttering at the kiss he places against your labia.

He’s relatively quiet today, just soft sighs against your cunt. Without his hands, you’re surprised by how easily he navigates his way along your lips, tongue nudging your folds apart. The round tip of his nose throws you for a loop as he kisses down your slit, the soft skin unintentionally brushing against your throbbing clit. (Or maybe intentionally— you never really knew with Jungkook.)

At your quivering entrance, he pauses, pulling back with glistening lips and dark eyes. “Good?” he murmurs, tongue peeking out at the corner to trace across his red lips. Another shake of his head, dark strands tickling his cheekbones.

“So good,” you exhale, releasing one hand from it’s trembling grip in his hair. You press it against the side of Jungkook’s face instead. Briefly, the tips of your fingers brush against his ear, an action that makes his eyelashes flutter, mouth dropping open just as your thumb presses against his lower lip. “Make me cum,” you command, as if you aren’t completely at his mercy right now.

Still, Jungkook humors you. His pearly teeth playfully bite down against your thumb, a smile making its way across his features when you pull away. “You got it, boss,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “You’re the boss here,” you mumble, shivers running down your spine when he ducks back down once more.

Lips suctioned around your clit, your thighs quiver beneath his touch. A soft whine pulls itself from your throat, hand jerking forward to grasp at the white undershirt he’s got on, stained like always. Jungkook ups the intensity, pulling away with a loud pop only to bestow a chaste kiss against your sensitive clit. “Please,” you whimper. It takes every last remaining ounce of self-control to keep yourself from accidentally clamping your legs shut around him, hips jerking forward as he licks his way down your slit once more.

His tongue dips its way between your folds, over your quivering opening, as if he’s circling where he’ll pleasure you next. A second later, you feel your entire body tense up momentarily as he slips his tongue in. It’s nowhere near as girthy as his cock, barely comes close to two of his fingers. But there’s something about Jungkook being so close, mouth against your pussy, that sends a shock of electricity straight there.

“Oh— Oh, god,” you sigh, head lolling back, tapping against the hood of Jungkook’s car.

The fingers digging into your skin tighten to the point of bruising, his hands growing anxious with every breathless moan drawn out from you. His plush lower lip is warm against your puffy skin, hot breath fanning over your wet folds as his tongue slowly works its way in and out. Slow, painstakingly slow. The speed has you growing restless, legs threatening to lock around his head, pushing him against your cunt until he can’t breathe.

It’s a good thing Jungkook is the one in control, his flattened tongue trailing one, long lick over your pussy. It starts at your entrance, glistening with arousal and his saliva, and ends at your clit. You’re almost certain you can feel your heartbeat through the bundle of nerves, releasing a loud cry at the way the tip of his tongue flicks against it once more.

The muscles in your legs, tired from walking all across the city, spasm beneath his ministrations. Your shoulders, tight from the weight of your responsibilities, relax back against the warm metal hood. Every kiss Jungkook places against you has you melting, feeling so unbelievably pampered. “Fuck, J- Jungkook— baby,” you whimper, letting go of his shoulder to bite down on your knuckles.

Jungkook breathes harshly against you, brows furrowed together as he focuses on making you feel good. The sight of his handsome face buried between your thighs makes you shiver, jolt when he pushes his tongue into your entrance once more and begins slowly thrusting it in and out. It’s so wet, mixes with your arousal and makes this lewd sound that only fans the flames of your pleasure, fingernails pressed against his shoulders and then burying themselves against his scalp.

It doesn’t take much longer, fatigue and pleasure catching up to you all at once, accumulating in a toe-curling orgasm unlike your usual ones. It’s quieter, filled with stuttered gasps instead, Jungkook’s name occasionally finding its way into the mix. By the end of it, you find yourself fretting over the state of your boyfriend’s scalp, having pulled it roughly at the height of your pleasure.

“How cute,” Jungkook hums softly, eventually releasing one of your trapped legs from over his shoulder. He rubs the back of his hand over his mouth and chin, transferring a dark stain of something onto his porcelain skin. In that moment, you’re glad you banned the usage of his hands on your pussy. Without anything to hold it up, your leg slips down, the impact of your heel against the concrete sending a tingling pain up your leg.

“Ouch,” you murmur, and then find yourself demurely covering your exposed pussy, still glistening with cum and saliva. At your modesty, Jungkook snorts, releasing your other leg only to surge forward and knock his forehead against yours. “Ouch,” you repeat, the stinging pain exacerbated when Jungkook pushes himself closer.

“So, what do you say?” he asks, smiles that devilish smile that makes him look like a Calvin Klein model. His hands are at your waist, helping you tug your skirt back down. It’s nothing grand, but your rose-tinted view makes you swoon at the way he manhandles you. He’s dangerously handsome, has you mindlessly wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Say about what?” you mumble, hypnotized by the cherry hue of his lips, and the fact they probably taste like you.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, like he’s going to kiss you. Instead, he pauses just in time to say, “how was my onion breath?”

You’ve never pushed someone away fast enough, nearly impaling him with the sharpened heel of your shoe against his chest. It sends him tumbling back, a rough cough mixed with a boyish chuckle, the dorky kind as he sprawls himself over the dirty concrete floor of his auto shop. It’s as you’re glaring down at your immature boyfriend and what you’re certain is a tiny puddle of motor oil beside his head, that you realize this is your life now. Men, you think bitterly.

“I hate you,” you announce childishly. You find your discarded panties on the metal table beside a goddamn wrench. You fling it at his chest, only the slightest bit turned on when he raises it up for a sniff. “Mmm,” he purrs, letting the flimsy fabric rest over his eyes. You don’t even have it in you to scold him on how dirty that is, instead nudging his side with your shoe. “You know,” he says, catching your ankle in his hand. He guides your foot over him, surprising you when he places it directly over his chest. “I had a dream like this in high school,” he confesses, making your face heat up. “Think it was because of those 50 Shades of Grey books we found in your attic.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #mine #swshd

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bluefirewrites · 3 years ago

Note

not sure if u are still taking this but, celebrity/fan au for JUKEE 🤭

Okay this one's a little involved but I got you!

Rated T for mentions of sex and maybe some language

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

******

Julie tugs against the rather short dress Flynn had squeezed her in, not caring for how much she looks like a glorified candy wrapper in the shimmering gold.

She feels like she's some Ferrer Roche, waiting to be devoured.

Which seems to be her intention for tonight because she's insane, and so is her bestie Flynn, because she's supposed to grab the attention of a certain someone in this club.

Her motives for tonight sound like they come straight out of a Wattpad story, but her boyfriend- or well maybe an ex boyfriend now'- forced her hand.

So a year ago, right around the time they started dating, they both disclosed their 'hall passes'. Just a list of celebrities they were both 'allowed' to cheat on their partners with. It was fun. Just to see who the other person would pick.

It was harmless because the whole point is that these people are so famous, so far out of reach, that the odds of hooking up with them would be essentially impossible.

Nick's was the lead singer of the world famous pop group Dirty Candi. And Julie remembers drunkenly applauding the choice ("She's pretty! Wowww you like them Bubblegum Pop girls?")

They had a laugh that night and Julie doesn't really consider that hall pass conversation all that much since then-

-Until fast forward to last week when Nick disclosed to her that he ran into Carrie Wilson at an event. And then promptly disclosed to her that he invoked his 'Hall Pass' rights.

His rights?! She had exploded at him, and he claims that its no big deal. That he thought she would understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a crazy set of circumstances, and that- 'Holy shit Jules, she was actually into me. Like what?'

Understandably, Julie stormed out and has been staying with Flynn for the time being. And it must have been the haze of crying and watching a lot of true crime series to cheer herself up that she and Flynn concocted this... plan.

One fueled by spite and pettiness.

Get back at Nick, make him jealous, make him feel how she did- by invoking her own 'Hall Pass' rights-

-which so happens to be Sunset Curve frontman, Luke Patterson...

"There he is" Flynn whispers from their corner of the club and Julie gulps.

"I don't think I can do this," Julie hisses at Flynn, when they spot him at the bar, nursing a drink with his bandmates like he usually would (they did their research).

See, Julie’s been a fan of Luke’s for a long time. Ever since she heard ‘Now or Never’ in freshman year of high school, she’s been hooked onto their music- especially Luke and his voice and playing.

She had their posters on her bedroom wall and had been that girl who would (when no one’s looking) press her fingers to her lips then press them against Luke’s image before going to bed.

It was that bad.

And Julie had probably fantasized on more than one occasion of meeting him and all the other scenarios you would picture in a typical Celeb x Reader scenario.

And she’d like to think she grew out of it, now she’s in her mid-twenties and just casually listens to Sunset Curve, following up on their careers every now and then.

But you can never really shake your first major celebrity crush. Hence he had been on her so called ‘Hall Pass’ list.

(”You into rockstars, Jules?” Nick had teased her that night.)

Seeing him there, in the same place as her, is so surreal, but Flynn’s continued pinches to her arm remind her just how real this is.

“This is ridiculous,” Julie crosses her arms, ready to bow out because what is she thinking? Why would Luke Patterson pick her up, of all people, at the bar? It’s like a supermodel runway in here, filled with girls more accomplished and famous. Her confidence is shaken a bit and she rethinks everything.

"Nick didn't seem to have a problem when he did it," Flynn points out, “And girl, you look great. He would be blind to not want you.”

The mention of Nick still boils her blood, which only reaffirms her plans for revenge. She’s still nervous but they both stand up from their booth and walk over to the bar.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,”

“No. You’re musician extraordinaire, Julie Molina! The world may not have heard about you, but they will one day. I bet that’s something you can talk to him about. Music? Lyrics?”

Julie could use her songwriting credentials to her advantage, “I mean I guess-”

“Quick, he’s getting up!”

“Flynn, wait I’m not-”

With a forceful push, Flynn sends Julie into the path of Luke Patterson, colliding into him and effectively spilling his drink all over her dress.

“Oh my god,” Luke gapes at her, “I am so sorry-”

Julie fans herself, shaking slightly from the fact she’s drenched and also that her freakin’ high school celebrity crush is looking at her, actually talking to her.

But she recovers quickly, and she speaks, “It’s fine. Really. I guess I’m just... clumsy.” She shoots a glare at Flynn, who merely winks and retreats to their booth.

Luke grimaces and takes her by the hand, leading her somewhere, napkins in his other hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry. Hate to ruin a pretty... dress.”

It’s the way he eyes her that catches Julie off guard. He’s... not talking about the dress, is he?

Julie reels it back in tries her hand at a joke, “I wouldn’t call this a dress. I feel like fancy leftovers in this thing.”

Luke stifles a laugh, “Okay, I mean I wasn’t gonna say anything but yeah. I guess it’s a bit tin foil-y.”

“Not your style?”

His gaze drifts over to her one last time, “Well, any way to take a meal back home is fine by me. I mean-” Luke scrunches his nose, wincing, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. That was too... much. Are we-” he laughs nervously, “Are we still... talking about food?”

“Unless you just called me a meal. Then no.”

The look in his eyes say that he’s absolutely mortified, “...yeah. I think I did. I was hoping that was a nightmare.”

“Nope, it definitely happened,”

“Feel free to slap me,”

Julie giggles, somewhat delirious because she hasn’t tried to flirt with him but here Luke is, flirting with her. Or trying. And failing. Like a far cry from the suave rockstar she had pictured him to be.

“No need. Just, can you-?” she points to the napkins he’s holding hostage.

“Oh yeah. Here,” They stop in front of the coat check, and he hands her the napkins so she could try herself off with the best she can.

Suddenly, a weight falls onto her shoulders, she looks up and sees Luke draping a jacket over her- his presumably.

“You looked cold,”

Julie wraps the jacket tight against her, relishing in the warmth, “Wow, thanks.”

Luke smiled and stepped back, “Just so you know, if I made you feel weird in any way, I’d like to throw out my third ‘sorry’ of the night. Nothing has to happen though. So, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Whew. Um, okay. Julie stands there, faced with this decision.

The compliments aside (she will revisit those later), Luke’s giving her an out. Any reservations she has about moving forward with this plan, this is her chance to leave.

She could just treasure these amazing few minutes for the rest of her life. This could be a story to tell friends at a dinner party, about the time a rockstar lent her his jacket. Would be up there with the time Jack Black passed her on the street and said “Nice hat!”.

But-

Maybe she wants to see where this goes.

“All this talk about food is making me hungry though...” she says and Luke lights up, “I could go for a bite to eat.”

Luke snaps his fingers, “I know just the place.”

*******

Half an hour later, Julie and Flynn are in a smelly alleyway with the guys from Sunset Curve, in line for a street dog cart just a couple blocks away.

“An Oldsmobile?” Julie gawked after hearing Luke and the guys describe the delicacy, “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I swear by it,” Luke insists, taking her hand and moving them up in the line. Flynn sees this and doesn’t comment, but Julie’s starting to get used to Luke doing that, “You have to try!”

Julie doesn't know when she got over her initial starstruck, but by now its so easy to treat Luke like a regular person.

Well, celebrities are all regular people in the end, but more so now that he and his friends, have their sleeves rolled up, smiles wide, ready to dig into what may be the most disgusting hot dog she has ever seen.

Julie takes a bite out of hers and her eyes widen. Wow. It's not terrible.

"Ayy! We got another one, boys" Reggie laughs, noting her reaction.

"Told ya" Luke needles her sides and she giggles, ticklish. Her knee jerk reaction is to playfully shove him, but in the process accidentally smeared some mustard onto his face.

Luke goes to lick it off with his tongue, making funny faces as he did which amused Julie even more.

"Here," she takes a napkin and wipes at his cheek, "Now we're even."

The whole group gets to talking over by the couches, while Flynn chats up the other boys, Julie and Luke are sequestered in their own corner, and yes, eventually the topic switches to music.

"Wait, so you know Rose and the Petal Pushers?" Luke chokes out, "Like everyone I talk to hasn't heard of them!"

"Yup. Have their record actually" Julie beams proudly, censoring out the part that its her mom's band and hence she has one of the few records ever released.

Luke is floored by that and continues to poke her brain for music and Julie finds that their spiels go on naturally, that she could probably talk with Luke for hours and hours.

Which ends up happening. Flynn had already made her escape, having texted her to come home safely, the boys had gone too, leaving them in the nearly empty lot.

When the food truck closes down for the night, they end up taking a stroll down the streets of L.A, talking and getting to know each other.

Julie learns so much about Luke, things she's never heard about from the press- like his songwriting practice, that he cries at Finding Nemo, and that he can do a cartwheel only when drunk.

And in return Julie shares with him her crazy college stories, how she misses her mom sometimes, and that she is encyclopedia of commercial jingles (a fact Luke exploits by rapidly quizzing her at random moments)

Somehow they end up near the beach, with Julie pointing out the different stars she could see, but finds that Luke isn't looking at the sky.

"Hey, Julie..." He gets her attention, "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too"

"So... would it be alright, if I kiss you?"

Julie's mouth parts, speechless. It happened. Holy shit it happened or... is happening. She has Luke exactly where she wants him.

She could only nod and Luke takes it as the sign to lean in, but just as his lips is about to brush against hers, she freaks-

"Wait" she steps back. Luke opens his mouth, "No. No more 'sorry's from you. This one's one me. I'm sorry but... this- this" She sighs, "I have to be honest with you."

Then she tells Luke everything- Nick, The Hall Pass, her plans for tonight- basically admitting to using him.

When she's done, she expects for Luke to get angry, to leave in a huff and never want to see her again.

That's not what happens.

"This Nick guy sounds like a piece of work" he says.

Julie nods slowly, "Yeah... I guess he was. So maybe that's why I did it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. Like I don't think we're together, me and Nick but-"

"You wouldn't want to do what he did. Because you don't want to hurt people," Luke surmises, understanding, "And by doing that, that means you're a better person than he is."

"I guess"

"No Julie, you're a good person" Luke insists, "Man, I think that makes me like you even more."

Julie laughs, "God, if my high school self could see me now..."

"You were a big fan?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now with you,"

"Okay cuz now you got me curious-"

Julie swats his shoulder but it doesn't deter the guy from snickering.

On a more serious note though-

"I think..." Julie hums, "I think this means that I got some stuff to work through. Before I could start considering... this."

"I understand"

"But thank you... Luke. For tonight"

"It's been real, Julie,"Luke smiles and pulls her in for a half hug, "And you should keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

****

Julie goes back to Flynn's that night and her bestie's still awake, wanting all the deets. But there's not much to tell. Nothing happened.

She shrugs off the jacket and resigns to the couch, not caring that her makeup is still on. She's about ready to pass out.

Her phone dings.

She pulls it out and sees two notifications.

luke_patterson is now following you

luke_patterson is requesting to message you.

Curious, she accepts the request.

'here if you want to talk, Tin Foil :P'

Julie rolls her eyes and collapses onto the couch, sleeping with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know it now, but the oncoming years would be filled with more messages back and forth, meetups with their friends for more shady street food, building a solid foundation of friendship and eventually, when Luke asks again if he could kiss her, Julie would eagerly prop herself on her toes to close the gap.

Yeah, Julie's high school self would definitely be screaming...

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #luke x julie #julie x luke #this one turned into an actual fic wtf #lol #i got carried away #long post #blue answers asks #celebrity/fan au

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barnesbabee · 3 years ago

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ- ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

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sshbpodcast · 2 years ago

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Scotty, don’t beam me up yet, I’m taking a sh–: Transporter accidents in Star Trek

by Ames

[image from Jake and Ames’s visit to the Star Trek Original Series Set Tour, Ticonderoga, NY]

Cheeky blogpost title aside, the transporter in Star Trek is a horrifying invention and has proven to be dangerous countless times throughout the franchise. Well, maybe not countless, as we here at A Star to Steer her By are going to count the times right now! We talked about how great they are in our future tech article, and now we’re going to look at all the numerous downsides.

We’re not about to have the “do you die every time you go through the transporter?” debate because that’s a little too philosophical for this listicle (and who can beat this CGP Grey video?), so let’s see what McCoy finds so scary about beaming up. There’s a lot to choose from: getting split in two, ending up in another dimension or back in time, or just never getting reassembled correctly again. Check them all out below, listen to our discussion on the podcast episode (discussion starts at 1:02:09), and energize!

[images © CBS/Paramount]

“The Enemy Within”

Our first bungle in the jungle happened very early actually. The fifth aired episode of all of Trek was the well-known Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde allegory that we disliked so much way back in the day. And as transporter accidents go, it was enough to make any audience member wonder if these danged contraptions are worth using in the first place. For some it’s an intriguing look at what facets make up a person, but for others it’s clearly not something to mess with lest you get split into two people who cannot survive on their own.

“Mirror, Mirror”

It was due to some transporter wonkiness and ion storms and other technobabble that we first shimmered into the mirror universe. And it was a pretty interesting outing once you ignore all the illogical coincidences which we can mostly forgive for the sake of a story that depicts other ways Trek society could have gone if not for all the idealism and general not being fascist. A little less forgivable is how subsequent series would overuse the mirror universe so much, but who can really blame “Mirror Mirror” for that?

The Motion Picture

It isn’t until we hit the big screen that the transporter starts to get legitimately scary. In a mentally scarring scene, we witness what happens when the transporter goes really really wrong. Kudos to the sound effects team for making the unfathomable deaths of two crewmembers something so gross and frightening. We may not understand what is truly happening, but it’s clear that it’s Galaxy Quest’s “turned inside out and exploded” kind of terrible. And each new cut of the movie makes the scene progressively more stomach-turning. Check out the latest director's cut if you haven’t seen it yet, if you dare.

“The Next Phase”

It took The Next Generation much longer to get clutzy with the transporter – all the way to near the end of the fifth season! – but once they did, they were all butterfingers. One of the better uses we recall of the trope is when La Forge and Ro end up phased after failing to transport off a damaged Romulan vessel. Like earlier instances from TOS, it becomes more of a character study, this one focusing on how people cope with loss, as well as a bit of a survival adventure. 10/10 would go to that funeral.

“Realm of Fear”

The sixth season of TNG has basically a transporter accident every other week. They really should have shut these things down after a point because it was actually a little silly. We start off exploring Barclay’s well-deserved fear of transporters in the episode that introduces us to transporter psychosis. The whole thing is trippy and confusing, and there are shapes in the interspace between beamings that are both people and also quasi-energy microbes? I dunno if I fully understood this episode, or if anyone did, but I’m with Barclay on this one: I’ll just be taking the shuttle after this.

“Relics”

Literally two episodes later, a new problem comes out of the transporter! This one’s a good problem to have though, as it’s an old familiar face in Montgomery Scott. We also explore the possibility in this episode of storing a person’s signature in the pattern buffer basically indefinitely. Now in this instance, it only worked for one out of two test subjects, which are abysmal odds if you ask me. Redacting spoilers: We see the buffer used to store a person with much less fatal results in Strange New Worlds, so that’s nice to see. And maybe a little in Star Trek (2009), but I’ve blocked most of that movie…

“Rascals”

One of the worst things the transporter ever gave us was the episode “Rascals,” about which I’ve certainly shared my opinions before. As if de-aging back into children isn’t obnoxious enough, the physics behind the transporter contradict themselves scene by scene depending on what was needed to make the story progress. Luckily, what the transporter breaks it usually also fixes so we don’t have to deal with this mess of bad child actors, absolutely nonsensical science, and kiddie show gags for very long.

“Second Chances”

Prepare to have an identity crisis with this one. We’ve already seen in “The Enemy Within” that the transporter can split you in half, but in this case the two valid, self-sustaining copies are virtually identical, not some personality grab bag. Both Rikers have the same legitimacy to the name and life of our favorite trombonist, so what does it mean for a person to have two lives that fork so significantly? The question haunts me to me very souls.

“Past Tense”

One of these days we’ll cover all the time travel episodes (subscribe to the page if you haven’t yet!), but the two-parter that brings our Deep Space Nine heroes to the Bell Riots is the only time that transporter shenanigans are the cause. As if getting thrown back in time to a perilous era isn’t enough, we also see O’Brien and Kira collecting chronitons so they can replicate the accident and go back to various points in time, mostly for the effect of the sight gags we get. Peace and love!

“Our Man Bashir”

Somehow we got a combination of a transporter accident and a holodeck malfunction wadded together into an episode that is simultaneously both and neither. In the end, it’s all a happy excuse to let most of the cast chew the hell out of the scenery in a genuinely fun, over-the-top espionage thriller parody thing! We’ve got to credit Eddington and Rom for quick thinking when the transporter just isn’t cutting it when they find a rare excuse in Deep Space Nine to do a holodeck episode, another topic we’re sure to revisit (like and subscribe!).

“The Darkness and the Light”

The last time we had a really gruesome death in the transporter was way back in The Motion Picture, and frankly, we’ve gotten too comfortable with the thing. So when Kira's resistance friend Fala gets horribly murdered in a transporter that’s been sabotaged, it’s a bit of a wakeup call that when these things go wrong, they go very very wrong. What’s your take? Is the TMP death more gruesome than “The Darkness and the Light”? Thanks, I’ll just take the stairs.

“Treachery, Faith, and the Great River”

Okay, I’m just including this episode because it’s when we learn of the report on how Weyoun 5 died: in a transporter accident and definitely not because of anything that Damar was up to. Not even a little bit. Why would you even think that? Damar 2024.

“Jetrel”

Update 1/28/24: Holy Robert Oppenheimer, I forgot one! Whatever the hell Jetrel was trying to do and failing utterly at definitely deserves mention on this list because it was downright horrifying in the same way as some of these other instances are horrifying. The Talaxians have already been through enough, dying traumatically in the Metreon Cascade, but when Jetrel attempts to put someone’s loose particles back together and it just looks like a being getting tortured, that’s another step into nightmare land.

“Tuvix”

You’ll remember we were big fans of the episode “Tuvix” when we wrapped season 2 of Voyager because the ethical debate it presents us with is so fascinating. Like an episode that splits you in two, it presents you with a crisis of identity so profound it leaves minds reeling, but this time a little bit the opposite. Having two people merged into one to create a whole new person with their own sense of self is just interesting to watch and also heartbreaking in its obvious conclusion. Never trust orchids.

“Drone”

This week’s podcast episode covers this one more in depth, so I’ll be brief here. Transporting someone with Borg nanobots and someone with a mobile emitter from the future yields an even more magical mobile emitter capable of spawning new life if it gets a bite of tasty tasty human flesh. Which of course it does. What we’re left with is One, who is a darling little freak of nature who gives more evidence that individuality is a right, regardless of what certain Borg Collectives have to say.

“Strange New World”

If all of the transporter accidents we’ve seen so far have been reckless, dangerous, and downright horrifying, then obviously the device was only going to be more unsafe when it was brand spanking new. When we see early uses in Enterprise, the characters are basically flipping a coin every time they use the thing, as is shown in the season 1 episode “Strange New World,” in which a crewmember is transported during a windstorm and the debris and sticks and stuff from his surroundings freakin’ merge with his flesh! How did this thing make it past testing?!

“Daedalus”

In season 4 of Enterprise, we meet the inventor of the transporter, Emory Erickson, who just proves to us how dangerous the device is. Erickson has been working tirelessly to rescue his son Quinn, whose pattern got lost during an experiment, leaving his form in kind of a limbo space between existence and the buffer, a ghost that haunts space as much as his predicament haunts his father.

“Much Ado About Boimler”

Y’all knew that Lower Decks would repeat a couple of the tropes we’ve seen before, but with their own twists. The first transporter accident we see in the cartoon is basically “The Next Phase” again, but with only half the characters and only half phased. What we’re left with is a partially phased Boimler and a good bunch of jokes about how Starfleet treats crewmembers with disabilities.

“Kayshon, His Eyes Open”

That’s not the last time Boimler will have a rough time with the transporter since Lower Decks tends to drag his character a little bit (read: a lot). After foreshadowing it for quite a while with jokes about Will and Tom Riker from “Second Chances,” the episode pays off with a decent punchline of having a similar transporter accident create two Boimlers who are also the both same and yet also kinda hilariously different.

—

Congratulations, you’ve made it to the other side! Thank you for beaming with us today; please exit the transporter pad in an orderly fashion. Keep watching this space for more great Trek topics, keep up with our watch-through of Voyager over on SoundCloud or wherever you get your podcasts, friend us on Facebook and Twitter, and don’t forget to tip your transporter chief.

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clefairymuke · 4 years ago

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regrets | chapter eleven

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1913

Ten feet. That's how far you had walked today without stopping to rest. Hange was practically jumping up and down, and Jean hugged you more tightly than he ever had before. For the first time in weeks, you started to feel a little less helpless. On the way back to the infirmary room, you held on to Jean's arm and limped back rather than being carried. It made you feel strong. Today was a happy day, which you had decided for yourself when you woke up, warm and cozy as you could possibly be under the thin white blanket that adorned the soft mattress. You felt refreshed; ready to work on your leg that morning, ready to see Jean, ready to make more progress. In the furthest part of your brain, you were also ready to see Levi that night. He was gone already when you woke up, like every other day, but that had never bothered you. The thought of good-morning small talk with Levi was awkward at best.

Now, you sat across from Jean with a hand of cards. You thumbed through them for what felt like the tenth time as Jean took his sweet time on his turn. He finally laid down a card, only for you to play one of the moves you'd thought out over the last five minutes as soon as he did. As the cycle started again, you found yourself looking out the window. The sun was almost ready to begin sinking, the blue of the sky becoming duller by the minute. You greedily awaited the purples and pinks that meant teatime. Throughout the day, the quietly nagging piece of your mind that wanted to see Levi grew bigger and bigger, until you finally had to admit to yourself that you were excited for it. You decided it was half because the tea was good, partially because he was good company, and a little bit because your hand still tingled when you thought of him.

Jean's turns got painstakingly longer as the game went on, so much so that you thought he was doing it deliberately. Your impatience grew as the sky turned orange, and Jean put the cards away. When he left, the sun touched the horizon.

The brevity of your alone time was unexpected yet welcome; the thoughts that possessed your brain while you sat in that room were hardly ever pleasant. You decided you were grateful that you didn't have your own bedroom -- the presence of company had become necessary in recent weeks. In that brief alone time, however, your mind did not hesitate to race. You recounted the events of the day before: Eren's anger, Levi's affection. For someone confined to a room, the past few weeks had surely been interesting.

You wondered about how it felt when he had touched you; you had many theories, but the leading one was that Levi put some sort of numbing solution on his hand to mess with you. Sure, it was out of character for him, but it was also out of character for you to do anything but dislike him. That was the theory you intended to stick beside.

Every time you heard the tiniest sound, your eyes shot to the door. Each time, you were met with disappointment. You looked around the room absentmindedly, eyes landing on the table that held only a glass of water. You leaned up as far as you could and grabbed it on two sides, sliding it between the chair and your bed. You felt accomplished when you laid back down, resting your hands on your stomach and focusing your eyes on the ceiling. You tried to push the thoughts of yesterday as far out of your mind as you could, but it was difficult. When the orange of the sky finally moved to pink, the door opened. There was Levi, as always, carrying along his tea set.

"Hey, Levi," you greeted him, a welcoming smile finding its way to the corners of your mouth. He nodded his head back to you as he sat down, his dark hair falling slightly forward as he leaned to pour his tea. For the first time, you studied the man sat in front of you. His lips were formed into a slight frown, more often than not. Though he was looking at his teacup, you knew his grey eyes looked focused, his thin eyebrows perpetually drawn down. You followed the slope of his nose with your eyes. His features were graceful yet sharp, all fitting cleanly together. The ends of his hair fell fell haphazardly along his cheekbones and ears, perhaps the one thing about him that wasn't perfectly neat.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked when he looked up, sending blood rushing to your cheeks.

"I've been looking at this room for three weeks. There's nothing new about it. People look a little bit different every day," you answered him, your face hot. You pulled your eyes away from him in search of literally anything else to look at, finally focusing on your own folded hands.

"You're a pretty good liar, you know."

The two of you sat there chatting for at least an hour before you were interrupted by a knock at the door. Levi looked at you expectantly, and you told them to come in. It was a scout you didn't recognize, relatively tall, with shaggy brown hair that fell across his forehead. He only came in about a foot, then saluted. "Captain, the Commander needs to speak with you. He'd like you to come to his office as soon as possible," he said.

Levi nodded at him in dismissal, and the boy left as quickly as he had arrived. "I shouldn't be long. I'll be back soon," he told you as he stood. He followed the boy out the door and left you to the candlelit room all alone.

---

After two hours, you had long understood that Levi was a good liar, too.

It was now pitch black outside, the candle failing to provide much light. Sleep was fighting you tooth and nail as you shifted around the bed, attempting to find even one comfortable place. Your eyes were begging to shut, but your body wouldn't allow it. You continued like this for another half hour before your mind finally found rest, closer to passing out than comfortably drifting.

When Levi finally returned, the tea was cold. He was quiet as could be, careful not to wake you as he sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair; your position was less than peaceful, he noticed, your body more sprawled out than curled up and your hair in a tangled mess. Your eyebrows were drawn in tightly, your face displaying blatant discomfort. When he looked away, his eyes were pulled right back by a sound escaping your lips. It was soft, yet distressed. He wondered if he should wake you.

You started to toss and turn, your little gasps and groans growing more frequent and closer together. His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward. He tried to make out words, only deciphering the occasional "help" and "mom." Admittedly, it struck his curiosity. He sat and watched you for a moment more before rising from his seat and laying his hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. "Hey, wake up," he said, trying to sound soft, but really only getting his typical tone across. He called your name, which tasted sweeter than it should have, twice before you finally roused awake.

You sat straight up, practically throwing his hand from your shoulder as you drew in shallow breaths. Your eyes darted around the room, vision a bit blurry, and you jumped when you saw Levi at your side. You were disoriented at best, not taking the time to speak. You noticed the tears brimming in your eyes after a moment, and immediately lifted your hands to wipe them.

"You were having a nightmare, I think. I'm sorry I took so long," Levi finally spoke up, not moving from your immediate bedside.

You cleared your throat, knowing sleep would still be present in your voice, before you replied. You looked over at him, his typical concerned expression more prominent than usual. "It's okay. It isn't your fault," you told him, laying your head in your hands. You felt vulnerable, and you didn't like it. Part of you wished Jean was here to snore loudly while you woke up in tears, not requiring you to interact with anyone.

"Are you okay?" he asked you. You noticed his hand twitch forward and then return to his side -- was he going to reach for you? You found yourself hoping he would.

"I'm . . ." you started, not really knowing how to finish your sentence. You tugged at a tangle in your hair. "Used to it, I guess. Not okay, not terrible. Just indifferent." You figured it summed up your emotions enough. Sleep had started to nag at your eyelids again, likely knowing it would be refreshing rather than restless now that you were no longer alone.

You laid your head back down and looked over at Levi, waiting for him to either reply or sit back down. He did neither; he stood there, studying your face as you had studied his only hours before. He didn't answer until his eyes finally met yours. "Do you need anything? At all?"

The look in his eyes was confusing, one you had never seen before. It was soft, almost endearing. Your voice answered him before your brain permitted it, and you regretted it as soon as it left your lips. "Would you lay with me?" You cursed your mouth and nearly vowed to never open it again. You felt yourself blushing, so much so that you wanted to turn over and bury your face in your pillow to never be seen again.

He wasn't embarrassed, though. His eyes widened a fraction for only a moment before he nodded, then sat on the edge of your bed and unlaced his boots. He pulled them off slowly and set them under the wooden frame, then stood and took off his jacket. He pulled his cravat from his neck swiftly and laid both over the back of the chair. He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, leaving only the gray shirt he wore beneath it. It joined the rest of his clothes on the chair. You moved away from the middle of the bed, allowing him plenty of room.

He didn't use it. He lifted the blanket and climbed in close to you, sliding his arm underneath your shoulders and gently guiding your head to his chest with his hand. Your heart had built up so much pressure you were sure it would explode out of your chest and leave the both of you a bloody mess. You adjusted yourself, shifting to face him and allowing your arm to drape over his stomach. You avoided looking up at him at all costs, but you could feel his eyes burning into the top of your head. This was the strangest, most foreign thing you had ever felt. The most off-center part was that you were entirely comfortable, your body more than relaxed despite your chest's unrelenting tightening.

"I --" you began, unsure of exactly what you were going to say. It didn't matter, because he was quick to interrupt you.

"Hush," he whispered. "Get some sleep."

#AoT #aot fic #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #enemies to lovers #slowburn

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mittensmorgul · 4 years ago

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Since the finale aired, I’ve been yammering on about how it would’ve only worked as a finale to s2, and now that I’m actually rewatching s2, I stand by that even more staunchly. The finale doesn’t work in a post-s2 supernatural universe.

This is the version of Dean we saw in the finale-- the one whose only mission in life was to Save Sammy, to help him get his revenge and allow him to go out and live a Normal Safe Life pretending that hunting and monsters don’t exist. The one who just wanted some pie, to drive his car, and had no real connections beyond Sam in the world outside of Bobby. Even Dean’s characterization in the finale is this far younger Dean who’d never allowed himself to crack open and truly understand love. It would take me years to plow through everything I’ve ever written about him as a character and his long struggle to emotional maturity we saw evolve over the next 13 years beyond this episode, but the tl;dr will always be “this s2 Dean is the same as the Dean in the finale.”

The goal of s2 was saving SAM from his “destiny,” too. In this era of the show, Dean didn’t have a “destiny” the same way Sam did. The ONLY thing that mattered was freeing Sam from “becoming evil,” and being manipulated into terrible things. What Dean wanted, what he was “destined” for by the narrative was irrelevant, because all of his choices and emotional burdens were tied only to saving Sam. To freeing Sam so he could safely return to his “normal life.” Go back to college, have a family and the white picket fence life.

This was before Dean truly began fighting for HIMSELF. Which only really and truly began after he sells his soul to resurrect Sam. That’s when Dean truly begins fighting for himself. Sure, he’s angry with John during s2 for trading his own life for Dean’s, for putting the burden of “if you can’t save Sam, you’ll have to kill him” on his shoulders with his dying breath, but Dean is still fighting against John’s authority and the complicated tangle of feelings of his own childhood and not actually coming to terms with his own wants and needs and wishes out beyond that yet. He’s still unwittingly confronting the “destiny” John had set up for him, and hasn’t moved beyond that yet. It’s only trading his soul for Sam’s that finally brings Dean into the cosmic narrative that will fuel his introspection and personal growth for the rest of the series.

And out beyond that point, his entire character arc explodes into orbit.

Dean’s entire character arc in s3 is confronting this very basic fact: he doesn’t deserve to have been sacrificed just to save Sam. He doesn’t deserve that burden, and he does deserve to live. This is the realization he comes to before eventually being dragged to Hell and then rescued by an angel, who literally tells him, “you don’t think you deserve to be saved” in the aftermath of that. From that point on, we have TWELVE SEASONS of Dean struggling with what he “deserves” versus what is “fate” and “destiny” and eventually confronting what he WANTS if he truly could choose his own destiny.

Plus, out beyond that point, he has Cas. And nothing changes Dean, pushes him to grow and understand himself, and accept himself-- all of himself, from the good to the horrific-- than the pure and unflinching acceptance of Castiel. Cas never looked at him and said “you are evil,” or “you are worthless.” (well, they’ve both said some pretty awful stuff to each other over the years, but there was either brainwashing or other deeper issues pushing those things on them, and they have ALWAYS eventually come back to one another, and the awful stuff was dealt with). Point is, Dean and Cas both began running these parallel arcs of duty versus desire, and for Dean, the duty was always framed around “taking care of Sam” versus pursuing any sort of ambition or goals for himself. They would fight for this for most of the rest of the series, until eventually the goal for ALL of them would be about discovering what they would want for themselves.

The show explicitly dealt with this, repeatedly, over later seasons, asking all of the characters the big questions: is this what you would choose for yourself? What WOULD you choose for yourself if you could?

And then they made the narrative of the final season, of the final Big Bad, the fact that they had NEVER had real freedom, and that their entire lives (and the entire history of not only this universe but every parallel universe) had been Chuck’s Puppet Theater, and true free will had been a lie all this time. Pushing all of the characters to confront their own choices and understand what about who they were as people was separate from what Chuck pushed them into choosing and doing all these years. The main thing that Dean (and also Cas, and to the extent she was included in the narrative this was Eileen’s issue as well) were being pushed to come to terms with what really was real, and were their feelings and choices their own or imposed on them for the furtherance of Chuck’s story.

At the end of the road, finally free and out from under Chuck’s control, they knew what was real. For Sam and Eileen, they had chosen each other. Cas had chosen Dean, but Dean hadn’t yet had a chance to reply, but anyone with two eyes and a brain knows what he would’ve said in return. It’s what Cas stopped him from saying even back in Purgatory in 15.09. And yet, for some reason Sam and Dean forgot all of that, as if none of it had ever even really happened at all, and we went right back to who they were right after they finally defeated the YED, before we even knew Azazel had a name, let alone the fact that the ultimate boogeyman of their entire lives to that point had been nothing more than a fanatic pawn in a much larger destiny for both of them.

The end of s2 was the last time Dean sacrificing himself so Sam could have a normal life, where Dean really felt there was nothing more for himself than fulfilling his father’s orders to save Sammy, even feels remotely plausible. It’s the last time we can feel like Dean might find peace and contentment in a Heaven where John is nearby to be proud of him, and where Dean would actually feel like that validation was even relevant to his own life.

And that finally brings me back to s2, where that was actually addressed through John’s self-sacrifice to save Dean, to serve Dean up to the narrative and provide a stage for this self-transformative journey INTO being a version of John himself. Only... Dean DOESN’T choose that. He fights to save Sam at all costs, even when it seems clear that the right answer would probably be to KILL Sam instead. When not only the ghost of John Winchester plaguing Dean’s mind would make him doubt his own drive to save his brother, but the John Winchester Insert Character of s2-- Gordon Walker-- basically put Dean’s own doubts out there in plain words in 2.10:

GORDON: I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?

DEAN: That's not Sam.

GORDON: Yes it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you. But here's the thing. It would wreck him. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?

This, the episode where Dean finally confesses John’s final orders to Sam, where Dean has decided that saving Sam is all that matters, even when circumstance and everyone else is practically screaming at him that this could all be over if only he gave in-- be it his own self-sacrifice OR killing Sam. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, the universe doesn’t care (and neither does Chuck... especially at this point... and the proof of that is Sam’s s15 nightmares where one of Chuck’s alternate universe endings for Sam and Dean was Sam actually going Darkside on demon blood and killing Dean... any iteration of the old drama, Chuck has explored all potential endings-- oh, except the ending where TFW gets to just be happy and live... that’s the one ending they never get and the only one they deserved in the end).

also from 2.10... loads of chat about “destiny” and one of Dean’s first “we should just lay all this shit down and take a vacation” moments when he suggests they go to Amsterdam and enjoy some of the not-coffee-coffee-shops, which Sam counters by doubling down on the fact that Dean has a destiny in all this as much as Sam does:

SAM: Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do.

DEAN: Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap.

SAM: You mean you don't believe in my destiny.

DEAN: Yeah, whatever.

SAM: Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me.

DEAN: I can try.

And that’s it, right there. This is the “neither of you can try for a normal life outside of the other while the other is still alive.” This is Sam pinning a destiny to Dean that’s just as inescapable within Chuck’s narrative as Sam’s demon blood and psychic powers.

This is the core essence of Chuck’s story about them. The sibling dynamic that Chuck failed to free himself from, and that Sam and Dean failed to free themselves from after Chuck’s demise in 15.19.

Destiny. One must die so the other can live.

And considering the next 13 seasons of the show and the long and emotionally grueling character arcs Sam and Dean proceed through where they truly confront the core of who they are as people-- as individuals outside of their duty and destiny-- the finale ceases to make any sense outside of Chuck’s narrative for them. If 15.20 really happened exactly as we saw it on screen, then Chuck still won.

And they had to loop Sam and Dean all the way back to where they were emotionally at the end of s2 in order to make it seem plausible. Which, for those of us who actually care about what they endured after s2, makes the finale entirely implausible as a whole.

#spn 2.10 #spn 15.20 #spiders georg of the tnt loop #while i was writing this up i also watched 2.11 and yep... still holds up #the ghost of john winchester #chuck's process

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fbfh · 4 years ago

Text

fangirl’s paradise - leo x reader

genre/vibe: romance, adventure, slice of life

word count: 2.8k

pronouns/perspective: first person present, no pronouns (I think), gn reader

au: soulmate kind of?? also traveling to other dimensions/multiverse

pairing: Leo x fic writer!reader

requested: nah

warnings: you think someone broke into your house for a minute, you feel like you’re going crazy for a minute, questionable pop culture/internet references, you get really embarrased about stuff you’ve written, you say fuck a lot, tiddy as an explative

summary: all you wanted to do was write some leo one shots for your blog, but finding out he’s your soulmate is good too

reccomended songs: havana - camila cabello, where do we go from here - amelie obc

a/n: got really meta and self indulgent with this bad boy, probs gonna do a part 2 at some point, cause this got really long and I started to get tired lol. For clarity, you’re from the riordanverse, but ended up in a world where it’s fictional. also some memories were erased.

requests r open xo

All I wanted to do was dance embarrassingly and sing along to the same playlist I’d been listening to for the past three days in terrible accents while I wait for my ramen to finish cooking. That’s it. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for. Plus, I’ve been home alone all day, so it’s really not too much to ask for. I flip over the waistband of my sweatpants while shimmying my way to the kitchen.

“Half of my heart is in havana oh nana,” I sing along off key, in a pseudo growly voice that makes me giggle. I’m going to turn the corner, make myself some ramen, then finish the episode of love island I’ve been watching. Except that’s not what happens.

“He got tha-” I cut myself off with a scream, seeing a stranger in the hall way. He looks up. I scream more, way more, and choke out, “JFK’s left fucking tiddy!”, because this dude is either the best freaking cosplayer ever, or those tiktok reality shifting tutorials actually worked at some point.

He looks too natural, too organic. The level of detail and strategic imperfection is beyond conscious choice. There’s no way he’s a cosplayer that broke into my house. Also, that would be a super weird crime.

Either way, I’m standing in front of a dude who looks exactly like Leo Valdez.

It feels… fake.

I didn’t really notice I’m covering my mouth with my hand to stop my hysterical scream laughs, but I’m able to get it under control after a second.

He’s looking at me, eyes wide, examining me, probably wondering why I’m acting so erratically. Or why I just spat out such strange bullshit. In my defense, I’ve been watching chaotic tiktok compilations inbetween updating my blog for like, two days straight. Three other people round the corner. I don’t know what I expected, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise at this point, but I’m sure I’m looking no other than at Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Piper Mclean.

“Jesus fucking christ, fuck me with a chainsaw!” I spit, retreating into the kitchen, reminding myself that while they are my favorite characters - and again, somehow real and in front of me? - they’re still technically intruders. I grab the nearest kitchen implement, a pair of red kitchen scissors I’d used to hack open the ramen packet, and point it at them.

“Woah,” Piper says, “it’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you.” I count to four and breathe in, setting the scissors back down within arms reach. Hold for seven, exhale for eight. I repeated the process again, watching Annabeth whispering to Leo.

I can feel the initial freak out subsiding. I’m starting to calm down a little.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Piper repeats. Well duh, they’re the good guys. A spike of pure what the fuck shoots through me, as I realize I’m already adapting to the fact that fictional fucking characters are standing in my kitchen. Leo’s ignoring Annabeth, and still staring at me, searching my eyes for... something.

Piper’s brow furrows. I call past Piper to Annabeth.

“Yeah, hi op, what the fuck?” They all have a silent conversation for a minute, and I continue, “Anyone want to tell my why the fuck fic-”

“We can tell you what’s going on, but it’s going to sound crazy.” Piper starts.

“After the past five minutes, probably not.” I glance past her shoulder, Leo’s still examining me. I look away, overwhelmed almost immediately. About 30% of my brain is just an endless loop of ‘ohmygodohmygodohmygod he’s real??? Like,,,, r e a l real????? Aj;dlfkajskdla ohmygod he’s looking at me what the fuck richard’, 20% was still trying to calm down from freaking out so much earlier, so I was at about half brain power for the conversation ahead.

“Okay, wait. Let me get this straight.” they stare at me in silence. We’re standing in the hallway outside the kitchen, and I feel like a complete disaster trying to process what they’re telling me and not look like a total idiot.

“So, Calypso went missing, and Leo got Aphrodite to activate his soulmate link so he can find her and it led you here?” I’m already smiling. There’s no chance, I can’t get my hopes up.

Piper continues, “Which means it might not be Calypso.”

“Unless you’re wearing a really good disguise or something,” Leo says. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time he’s spoken to me. I let out a breathy laugh and look away from him. If I try to look at him my brain goes haywire. Scenes from stuff I’ve written about him on my tumblr flash in my mind, and it makes me feel like I’m about to explode.

“Yeah, the reason we know is-”

“The gods are real, monsters are after you, et cetera et cetera. Yeah.” They seem a little surprised that I’m more concerned with the soulmate part than the mythology part, but I’ve been reading these books since middle school. We been knew.

Piper keeps looking between Leo and me with a weird look on her face. God, Piper, don’t get my hopes up. A knowing look passes over her face and she looks around the room again.

“Gods, where did he go…” She gets up and leaves the room. No one says anything. Between right then and when she gets back should have been in a ‘top ten most devastating anime uncomfortable silences’ compilation. She enters again a few seconds later, a tall hot guy behind her. He has red flowers in his hair and isn’t wearing a shirt for some reason. He looks between me and Leo.

“I see… interesting.” he turns to me and says, “Can you tell me anything… personal about him?” My face flushes. I turn to Piper.

“Sorry, but who the fuck?”

“I mean the only noncanon stuff I know is what I came up with for like, writing and stuff but that doesn’t count-” I sputter.

“Eros.” she replies, “My mom sent him along to help find the right person.”

“Normally I’d be able to tell instantly, but my powers don’t seem to work here very well.” his voice is like honey, and it seems like he’s heavily implying something no matter what he says.

“Yeah, go on hermosa,” Leo says, smirking, “take a whack at it.” His voice sounds so much more… real than I could have imagined. If I could verbally keysmash, I would have then and there.

“Hmm… why don’t you try anyway. What kind of lover is he?” the room erupts into protests. They don’t want to hear personal stuff about their friend, I don’t want to talk about cripplingly embarrassing smut headcanons in front of the character they’re about, and he probably doesn’t want me taking a wild guess at his bedroom habits. Eros turns to Percy, Annabeth, and Piper.

“You two, out. You, leave but stay close.” They leave the room hastily.

“Since I’m the god of sexual desire, I know what gets people going. I’ll be able to tell if you’re right or not. ” Eros says. I risk a glance at Leo, who I have a feeling has been staring at me a lot. He leans forward, playful intrigue all over him. How is he not dying inside??

“Ah ah,” Eros says to Leo, “you too.” Leo obliges, and heads up the stairs.

“H- okay, uh… he acts like a top, but he’s really kind of a bottom,” I choke out, trying to remember details from past posts, and Eros nods in approval, encouraging me to keep going, “he’s really-” my voice falters, and I hide my head in my hands, “he’s really vocal, like really vocal… uh…”

“Oh yes, I can tell.” Eros says, and I laugh slightly. “What else?”

“More? God okay… uh… he really likes hickeys, and-” I choke on my words, still unsure of how I got in this situation.

“He holds hands a lot in… the bedroom? God…” I trail off.

“The next morning, he kind of… he just sort of stares at you while you get dressed and stuff. I don’t know anyone else who does that.”

Eros studies me for a second. My heart is beating so hard. How long does it take to say yes or no? I’m uncomfortably aware of the distracting adrenaline in my arms and chest and head.

“Interesting,” he says, then stands up and leaves the room.

What the fuck, is he not going to tell me anything?

I’m listening as closely as I can, and I’m pretty sure I hear Eros say five out of five. I got everything right or everything wrong. Nailed it or failed it.

Piper speeds past me a second later and races up the stairs. After a few seconds she comes back down. She nods toward the staircase.

“You should go talk to him.” a knowing smile is playing at the corner of her mouth, and I can’t stop one from starting on mine. I run up the stairs, and see him, kneeling on my bed, reading what’s on my laptop.

Oh god, no.

He stands up. He’s staring at me so intensely, I look away immediately. I start sputtering out a panicked apology and sit down on my bed, moving to shut the lid of my laptop.

“Uh… I just listen to a song or something that makes me think of you,” my voice gets really tiny at that last part, “and stuff starts to pop into my head. I just keep replaying it, and uncovering more details so I can wr- wait,” I start to look up at him, but can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I stare intensely at the pattern on my quilt instead. “Did you say remember?” He lets out a breathy laugh, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“-of course I never thought you were going to read any of that, or…” His hand is on top of mine, my hand and voice freezing at the same time.

“How… did you remember all this?” my fears are being squashed. He doesn’t sound mad, or grossed out, or judgemental. He sounds… impressed.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m only starting to get back bits and pieces, but you remember… everything.”

“Wait wait…” I mutter, completely dazed, “so it wasn’t… it was all real?” I feel him nodding behind me, and he makes a noise of agreement.

“It was genius, really… as soon as I felt like I was remembering something, I’d forget it.” His other hand rests on my shoulder, palm flat against my back. “Only you would think to write it like that…”

“So… it all happened?” I breathe, my face heating up as I think of the titles marked with a little asterisk.

“Yeah,” I bite my lip, feeling his breath over my skin. It’s quiet for a second. The mattress shifts and I can feel him leaning closer to me, feel the heat coming off his body. His lips are dangerously close to my ear.

“Want something else to write about?”

Oh my fucking god.

I nod before I finish registering what he said. His free hand moves to my cheek, tilting my face towards him, and my skin explodes with sparks where he touches me.

Our lips brush.

We both freeze.

Flood gates open. Countless vivid images and feelings and scenarios flash across my mind. It was like watching a movie connecting every fic I’ve written. I gasp-laugh a little, and he does the same. It seems like the visions or whatever that he’s seeing are a lot more intense than mine. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me stronger, more intensely, more passionately than he had before. He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, and presses his lips to mine. Everywhere he touches feels carbonated, and I’m trying not to smile too much. I don’t think I’ve ever been more in the moment than right this second. He pulls me closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. I didn’t know a kiss could be deeper than it had been a few seconds ago. His mouth moves feverishly against mine. My arms move up on instinct, one hand playing with his hair, the other tracing the collar of his shirt. He shifts his weight, and one hand on my waist, lowers me back onto my bed. His left hand intertwines with my right, and I smile, remembering what I had told Eros earlier.

“Estrella,” He groans into my mouth, our teeth scraping as we smile in spite of ourselves, and I get the sense the nickname was an ‘as you wish’ type of thing, from the Princess Bride. It feels like he’s saying I love you. My heart speeds up as he nuzzles into my neck, pressing kisses and little bites into my skin. I think about the nickname I always thought would suit him, the one I kept writing down over and over. Now or never.

“Sparky…” I smile, hiding my face in his hair. He freezes for a second, then lets out that breathy laugh again, his face in my neck. His lips graze my collarbone, and he starts to say something, but the door opens suddenly, and we jump apart. It doesn’t help much though, because he’s still hovering over me on all fours and we both look very flushed. And I’m pretty sure the start of a hickey is forming on my neck.

“Right,” she replies, “we gotta get going, the door is closing soon, so come down stairs as soon as you’re… free.”

“Sorry!” Annabeth yells, averting her eyes. Leo and I stumble over each other’s flustered responses.

“-looks bad but nothing… happened… we d- we didn’t like, do anything...” I trail off.

The door closes.

“I’m coming with you guys?” I breathe. He looks over at me, that unflappable sense of playfulness present as ever.

Leo sits back, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we should get back soon. Everyone else will be worried once they remember.” My heart plummets. I didn’t know you could go from feeling so incredibly euphoric to beyond miserable in about five seconds. I open my mouth to choke out a response, but before I can, he stands up and stretches a little.

“Do you wanna change before we go?” The question has such a normal tone to it, it’s a little bizarre after all the unusual things that have happened today. The bad feeling and tears at the corners of my eyes start to recede.

“Of course you are. If you think I’m losing you again this soon you’re crazier than I am.” I let out a relieved laugh, and stand up. I look down at my monster foot slippers and sweatpants.

“You know where to find me,” he winks before closing the door on his way out.

“Yeah, I should probably change.” He pulls me close to him, one hand comes up to the back of my neck, the other on my hip. He starts swaying us back and forth, dancing around my room.

“Well, if you need any help…” I laugh, and shove him away playfully.

I take a second to catch my breath. Oh my god. Thoughts are still racing in the back of my mind, but I don’t pay attention. I don’t have time to worry about what’s real and what’s not, I need to find the perfect demigod adventure outfit. I throw open my closet, start shuffling through dresser drawers, digging through my shoes. I don’t remember having one or two of the pieces, but after a minute, I find exactly what I’m looking for. It’s the exact outfit I’d always imagined myself in if I ever went to camp half blood. I search through my accessories, grab a bag, and hastily fill it with anything I think I’ll probably need. I turn back to my laptop, and change my blog description to on hiatus. I check my hair, flattening out the back from before, and determine I’m ready to go.

I walk down the stairs, and everyone’s watching me. I feel like it’s prom or something, which sounds silly since I’ve got on ripped jeans and a backpack instead of a dress and clutch. Leo’s watching me with that look, the one that makes his eyes all sparkly, and he meets me at the bottom of the stairs. He puts his arm around my shoulder.

“Ready to go home, Estrella?”

I have never been more ready for anything.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus imagine

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years ago

Text

The Woodchuck Leader Assessment - Chapter 4

DT17 Fanfiction

Summary: When Launchpad’s ability to supervise children is called into question, Dewey tags along on a Junior Woodchuck trip to support his best friend.

Chapter 1

Also cross-posted on fanfiction.net.

***

Dewey slipped into his and Huey’s tent. And found not only Huey, but Violet and at least a half dozen of the other Woodchucks.

“What…”

“Shh!” said Huey.

“Oh yes, I am claiming running through camp in my underpants,” said Doofus as he rubbed his hands together. “Back off; it’s mine!”

No one argued.

“Am I interrupting something?” Dewey snatched his pillow back from one of the other kids.

“We were discussing the implementation of stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols,” said Violet.

Dewey raised an eyebrow. “So what was stage 1?”

“Behaving for Launchpad.”

“And stage 2?”

The faintest smile touched Violet’s beak. “Only behaving for Launchpad.”

“Yeah.” Huey hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m not sure stage 2 is going to be enough, all by itself. I mean, LP’s great, but I don’t know if we can depend on him. If he can’t supervise us… it was like Mr Russell said, there’s nobody else. What am I going to do without my Woodchucks?!” He lunged at Dewey and dragged him towards him.

Dewey extricated his brother’s fingers from his shirt. “Calm down. I don’t care about your Woodchucks. But if what we’re talking about is going to help Launchpad…” Dewey chewed his lip. On the bus, Launchpad had just been, off. What the heck had happened between him and Mr Russell? It had to be something to do with the kid who drowned, but Launchpad didn’t want to talk to him. He was his best friend and Dewey knew if it was something important he’d want to share it with him. The fact he hadn’t… yeah, really off. “So, only behaving for Launchpad…?”

“A combination of multiple children needing walking to the bathroom, Doofus running around in nothing but his underwear…”

“Or, I could ditch the underwear.”

“No. … toilet paper, someone crying for their teddy bear, at least one item of Mr Russell’s clothing hung off a tree, and we make every attempt to respond to his orders with…?”

“Okay, Boomer,” said all the Woodchucks at once.

“Of course, the whole point is if Launchpad comes back we all immediately behave to prove he can control us,” said Huey, “or NO MORE WOODCHUCKS.”

“Boo,” said Dewey. “Huey may actually be right: it’s not enough. Launchpad needs better than that. You don’t just want to behave for him. You’ve got to prove he’s the sort of leader who would do anything to protect you. Here’s what we do: we set up a scenario in which some poor helpless child needs rescuing, because although we know Launchpad sometimes needs help with things, he’d never let anyone he cares about get hurt.”

“Yeah, who…” said Huey.

Dewey stood up and stabbed a finger into the canvas. “And I shall be your damsel in dew-stress!”

***

Launchpad flung the bus door open. “Aw man, LP. What are you doing?” He’d fallen asleep. Outside, the rain had lifted and the morning was wet and cold. “You can’t tell your Woodchucks they gotta sleep out in nature when you spend the night on the nice warm bus.”

He crammed his hat back on his head and jogged back down to the campsite. He slipped in the wet leaves and slid down a short section of the path, which resulted in a rather painful stop courtesy of a medium sized boulder, but at least it bought him a couple extra seconds.

Launchpad skidded into the campsite. It was quiet, too quiet. In his absence, Violet and Huey should have been awake and setting up a campfire for breakfast. But, maybe, he’d avoided the embarrassment of getting caught.

A tent flap opened and Jack emerged, rubbing blearily at his eyes.

Launchpad grabbed up a piece of firewood, then just pulled himself up short of pegging it into the firepit. He didn’t need to pretend to set up the fire.

“Well, there you are,” Jack grumbled. “When you said you wanted me to help I didn’t realise you were going to dump the kids on me for the entire night!”

Even with the realisation he didn’t need to look busy for Jack the man’s words made Launchpad’s heart sink. He’d messed up. He’d ditched his Woodchucks and even though an adult had been there to look after them… he’d left them alone with Jack Russell.

“Where are the kids anyway?” Launchpad lifted the flap to Huey and Dewey’s tent. Empty. Great. At least they knew how to take care of themselves. Nothing would be wrong. This was just something else for Jack to put in his report.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” said Jack. “I was up half the night telling kids to walk themselves to the toilet. And… where is my hat?”

Launchpad spotted it, swinging high up on a tree branch above Jack’s tent. “I think it fell into a tree.”

Huey exploded into the camp. “Launchpad! We went to get firewood… Dewey’s stuck on the bridge over the river!”

Launchpad’s heart caught. “Oh no, Dewey!”

“Wait, stuck on a bridge how?” said Jack. “Shouldn’t you just… go and unstick him?”

“He’s… really stuck,” said Huey, “Launchpad needs to come pull him out because, you know, he’s strong and a good Woodchuck leader, so…”

The other Woodchucks emerged from their tents, rubbing blearily at eyes, wondering what all the ruckus was about. Launchpad gulped. This was all he needed with Jack here. And then he felt bad, because this was about Dewey, not his assessment. He hadn’t been very nice to him on the bus last night. If he’d got hurt or got himself in trouble after how Launchpad had treated him, he’d feel terrible. At least being stuck on a bridge didn’t sound that bad. In fact, he did wonder why Huey hadn’t just pulled his brother off himself.

“Because he’s a good…” Jack slapped a hand to his forehead. “Launchpad, your damn kids are setting you up.”

“Just be quiet, my best friend needs me. Come on Woodchucks, to the river!”

Usually, it took a bit of coaxing to get them moving but they responded immediately. They all followed Huey, Jack trailing behind them and grumbling all the way.

The river was flowing fast after the rain last night and the roar made Launchpad’s guts tighten. This far down from the swimming hole the river cut through a gully with a rope bridge strung across, the water surging and gurgling beneath. Dewey was halfway across the bridge, his leg tangled in a loose rope, his top half hanging upside down from the bridge with his hands swinging. “Oh, help. I have fallen and my foot is stuck. I cannot get up.” At least he didn’t sound particularly panicked.

“This is ridiculous,” said Jack.

“Hang on, Dewey. I’m coming to get you.” Launchpad put a hand on the wooden stake that anchored the bridge.

“Wait.” Jack grabbed Launchpad’s sleeve.

Launchpad yanked his arm back, but slowed.

“Send these two out after them. They’re half your weight put together and their two pairs of hands will probably get that… classic example of a Woodchuck knot around that poor kid’s ankle undone a lot quicker.”

“That’s… a good idea,” said Launchpad, although the rope bridge looked sturdy and wouldn’t be in any danger of snapping under his weight.

Violet and Huey both exchanged glances. “It would be better if Launchpad did it,” said Huey, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Yeah, just as I thought. You cannot control these kids, Launchpad. You should’ve seen the antics they were getting up to last night. Pretty sure they’ve set this whole thing up to try and make you look good.”

“But I’m really stuck… urgh, forget it!” Dewey rolled himself back onto the bridge and tugged at the knot around his ankle.

Wait, he wasn’t really stuck? Oh. It finally sunk in. Launchpad turned to Violet and Huey as his chest tightened. “You two… set me up?”

“Stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols weren’t enough. We went to stage 3. Dewey’s idea… but yes,” Violet mumbled into her chest.

Launchpad squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “Dewey, come on, get off the bridge, its dangerous out there.”

“I’m fine. I just need to get this knot off… hang on…”

“And you two…” His two most senior Woodchucks looked at their feet. And though it hurt they’d pulled one over on him, Launchpad knew they’d only been trying to help. He swallowed, and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to set up something like this to help me, okay? I really thought Dewey was in trouble.”

“But it wasn’t just for you!” Huey burst out. “It was for all the Woodchucks. If they make you quit then no one will want us and we’ll have no more Woodchucks, and I… I can’t live without Woodchucks!” He fell to his knees and put his face in his hands.

“I too would find it quite devastating,” said Violet.

“Wait, who told you that?”

“I did, genius,” Jack snorted. “Along with a few other truths while you were pouting on the bus.”

Launchpad’s fists bunched at his sides. He’d left his Woodchucks alone with Jack. What had he been thinking? “Like what?”

“I explained how failure badges are supposed to work. Apparently you’ve been flashing yours around like some kind of trophy and giving these kids the wrong idea. Just like you did as a kid. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to get you to understand, I never could get the concept through your thick head.”

“Don’t speak to me like that. And how dare you make these kids feel like they should be ashamed of…”

“It’s not about shame! It’s about reality, and realistic expectations, and not setting these kids up for failure. I don’t know how you fluked your way through to a leadership role Launchpad, but when the cards come down you’re just going to get somebody killed! You know, like you did Calvin. At least then you were a kid; you had an excuse. Not anymore.”

Launchpad’s chest heaved, but this time he didn’t feel like running. “You have no idea, do you? We only went down to the river that night because we had something to prove. If you’d encouraged us instead of bullying us in front of the other kids, just because we failed a couple times, we would’ve waited until we had a chance to try for the badge again. We were kids, it was the only way we thought we could get you to stop. But it was never what were were good at or not, it was always you. You were in charge, Jack. You had the power. And you just used it to make us fell like we were never good enough no matter what we did!”

“Wait, Calvin… he was the kid who drowned?” said Huey tentatively.

Launchpad swallowed hard. “Yeah. He jumped in trying to save me.”

“Oh, Launchpad,” said Dewey. “That’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“I’m… I’m going to give you a hug.” Dewey picked himself up and rushed back, but tripped as the still tied knot brought him up short. He smacked face first onto the bridge, sending it swinging wildly, then rolled right off the edge.

Launchpad’s heart caught. “Dewey!”

The rope jerked taut and Dewey swung by his ankle above the roaring water below. “Oh, um, now I really do need help?”

Launchpad rushed out onto the bridge. He grabbed at the rope and started hauling it up arm over arm.

“LP, I’m really sorry,” said Dewey as he was slowly raised. “We didn’t think this out at all. I should’ve got stuck up a tree or something.”

Launchpad gritted his teeth and hauled on the rope faster. “Heh. Don’t worry about that, buddy. No harm done.” Come on. Come on. Because despite Dewey’s calm, Launchpad could see the knot he’d been picking at slowly start to unravel.

“Woah, maybe slow down? I’m getting dizzy.”

Huey and Violet must have seen it too. They rushed out onto the bridge and leaned through the ropes, reaching out for Dewey as he neared.

A frown creased Dewey’s beak. “Seriously guys, I’m fine…”

Launchpad yanked up another loop of rope and swiped at Dewey’s ankle. The bridge bucked, and the rope slipped free. Dewey’s eyes widened, arm outstretched, then his back smashed into the water beneath and he disappeared. He was gone for a split second, then he resurfaced. “It’s okay… can… swim…” He choked off as a slosh of water slapped in the face and went down his throat, and then the current pulled him away.

Launchpad’s hands tightened on the bridge. No. Not this time. He slid under the rope.

“Launchpad, you idiot!” Jack yelled. “You’re not going to be able to…”

The rest of his words were lost as Launchpad slammed into the water below. The shock of cold bit at him. The current snatched at him. Yeah. Far stronger than it looked. There was no way he was letting Dewey brave this alone. He spluttered, and surfaced.

“Launchpad! Violet and I are going to get a rope down steam. You got to get out before the waterfall.”

Of course there was a waterfall. Launchpad saw a flash of blue ahead and struck out with strong strokes, not so much moving himself through the water, but keeping his head above it as the current propelled him along.

Jack was right; there wasn’t a swimming badge on Launchpad’s sash. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to swim. Six months after everything had happened with Calvin, and after he’d convinced his parents he did in fact want to return to Woodchucks now Mr Russell was gone, he’d earned it. He could still remember Ms H, who was much nicer than Mr Russell, congratulating him and pressing the badge into his palm.

He’d stared at the embroidered circled as tears filled his eyes. “I… I don’t deserve this.”

She’d got down on her knees and put her hands on his trembling shoulders. “Sweetheart, its okay. I get it. You don’t have to put it on if you don’t want to. The badge isn’t the important bit. You’ve still got the skill, and as long as you know that’s there whenever you might need it you don’t have to prove that to anyone else.”

Launchpad choked as a wash of water slapped into his face. Keeping his head above water became harder and harder as the current picked up. He spotted his friend ahead, clinging desperately to a rock. This close to the waterfall, roaring clearly ahead of them now, the water snatched at Dewey and he whimpered as his fingers slipped across the rough surface. Launchpad let a really vicious snarl of water grab him and hurl him towards the rock. He grunted as his shoulder slammed into it and pulled Dewey into his chest just as the boy’s numb fingers lost their grip.

“LP…” Dewey immediately grappled for Launchpad, his fingers digging like claws into his neck.

Launchpad spluttered as he was shoved under. He heaved himself up out of the water with one arm on the rock, and clutched Dewey to his chest with the other. He hauled them both up high enough they were no longer in danger of getting dunked and the force of the water wasn’t strong enough to pull him away. “It’s… it’s okay… I got ya.”

Dewey’s breath came in spluttering gasps. “Sorry… I… trying to make you look good…”

“I know.”

“It’s cold.”

Launchpad started to shiver as the ice water bit into his skin. “Hey, Violet and Huey are working on it. They’re going to get us out. Probably use maths or something. They seem to be good at that.”

“LP, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this to you… I didn’t know about your friend…” Dewey sniffed, and pressed his face against Launchpad’s neck.

“Right now I’m only thinking about you.”

A rope, attached to a short fat log, sailed out over them and hit Launchpad in the back. He grabbed it.

“Tie it to Dewey!” Huey yelled from the bank.

Launchpad untied the rope and looped it about Dewey’s waist. “You’re not going to drown,” he said, looking his friend right in the eye as his fingers automatically tied the knots he’d done a million times. “I won’t let that happen.”

“LP, look out!” Huey shouted.

A log spun down the river towards them. Launchpad jerked the knot tight about Dewey’s waist, then shoved him off towards the bank. He pushed his friend clear of the log, but it collected Launchpad across the middle, swept him off the rock, and dragged him under. The quickening torrent grabbed him, and suddenly Launchpad was back in the hell of breathless tumbling terror he’d found himself in as a child.

But at least he’d got Dewey out.

***

A long way below the waterfall, Launchpad pulled himself up onto the bank and heaved out a stomach-full of water. Clear of the torrent he gulped deep breaths, his head resting against his forearms, too heavy to lift.

It had taken every ounce of his strength to reach the bank. His body trembled with cold and exertion. He’d been tossed at the whim of the current, slammed into anything and everything. Even as an adult, as strong as he was, it had been terrifying. He’d thought there was no way he’d be able to save himself, right up until he’d felt the pebbles of the shore beneath his feet. He hadn’t drowned. But all he could think was how much scarier that ordeal would be for a child. How scary had it been for Calvin to fight to save himself in the darkness, and fail? Launchpad shuddered, and as he finally caught his breath his gulps for air became sobs.

“LP!” Huey skidded to his knees at his side. “Thank goodness, you scared us. Are you okay?”

“Dewey?” Was all he had the breath to say.

“It’s okay. We got him out.”

Launchpad whimpered and let his head drop back against his arms.

The pebbles crunched around him as the rest of his Woodchucks caught up with Huey. Launchpad felt small hands squeeze his arms and press against his back.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Huey. “Violet and I have everything under control. She’s called for help, and… all you gotta do is catch your breath.”

Chapter 5

#ducktales fanfiction #ducktales #dt17 #ducktales 2017 #launchpad #launchpad mcquack #dt17 launchpad #dewey duck #huey duck #violet saberwing #disney ducks

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peachy-beomie · 4 years ago

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I’ll Be Your Light (In The Darkest Night) <KUNTEN>

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (Fluff w/ Light Angst)

Pairings: Kunten (Qian Kun x Ten Lee)

Word Count: 1,936

Warnings: Light Angst (not much but like kun gets yelled at a lot)

Synopsis: Kun is an amazing leader for wayv. He’s levelheaded, smart, observant, and he knows how to make sure the boys are taken care of. But sometimes leaders have to make tough decisions for the good of their members, even if they can’t see the benefit. OR Kun is upset and Ten is there for him.

A/N: Uh hi this is my first fanfic on tumblr!! :DD My awesome friend sophie (@chicksung) encouraged me to try posting one so here I am. Hope it’s at least an enjoyable read :))) Tell me what you think in the comments or by reblogging! Also I thought a cute little thing to do at the end of each of my kunten fics would be to include a random kunten photo, since they seem to be few and far between (@ Kun and Ten POST A SELFIE TOGETHER COWARDS). So look for that at the bottom of the post! Enjoy lovely readers!!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409582

“You’ve got to be kidding me!!!”

Each of the 7 boys flinched hard at their dance instructor’s exclamation, their hearts beating wildly in their chests.

“Seriously what is WRONG with you guys?? That’s the 10th time we’ve gone over that section and you STILL can’t get it right!”

“I think we’re all really tired ge,” Kun interjects, voice calm and collected as always. “Maybe we should call it a night and try again tomorrow.”

The teacher seems to grow angrier from that comment. “We are not done until each of you can do the choreography flawlessly. Go get some water and I better see you back and ready to dance in no more than 10 minutes!!” Kun can do nothing but nod and usher his members into the hall. As they step over the threshold, each boy all but collapse onto the floor, completely drained of energy and courage.

Kun sinks down the wall whilst holding in a groan of pain. The teachers had been really harsh that day, yelling at them and making them work extra hard. Kun wishes he could just go home and cuddle with his boyfriend.

As if sensing Kun’s unease, the aforementioned boyfriend sat next to him and offered him a sip of water which he gladly accepted. Ten intertwined their hands and squeezed Kun encouragingly.

“I don’t think I can take much more of this, my legs feel like Jello.” Hendery comments, breaking the silence of the room.

“I know, the staff have been really crude today,” Lucas responds, his usually wide and wondrous eyes are dulled, which isn’t lost on Kun. His stomach clenches as he looks around at his members. It’s painful seeing them so despondent. Each pair of eyes sporting large bags and shoulders all hunched and tense. The boys stare back at him with expressions so colorless it makes Kun want to cry. Winwin taps him on the shoulder suddenly.

“Kun-ge you have to tell the teacher we can’t go on, I can barely feel my legs.” Winwin’s eyes brim with tears as he speaks and Kun wants so badly to wipe them away. He grabs the back of Winwin’s head and guides it to his shoulder in comfort. Being tired as shit himself, Kun would love nothing more then to tell the teacher to let them go, but he knows he can’t. If he so much as looks at the teacher the wrong way he’ll get them all punished. It makes him feel terrible, not being able to take care of his members the way he needs to. With a heavy heart he brings the boys to their feet, offering them the most encouraging smile he can muster.

“It’s only another half an hour guys, we’ll get through this I promise.”

Needless to say the practice continues to go downhill from there.

The short break did not make the teacher any less cruel. He continues to scream, degrade, and cuss out the members. The words he spews sting each boy to the core. Kun only watches as brows crease infinitely tighter and stray tears are wiped in secret.

Kun doesn’t realize how deep in his thoughts he is until he trips over his foot sending him to the floor. His eyes remain closed as he hears the music switch off and the feeling of doom rises in his chest.

“Oh my god Kun this is RIDICULOUS!! Why can’t you guys get this?? It’s so simple!! Stop slacking and focus!!” Kun reluctantly stands up and faces the teacher with the most level expression he can.

“I’m sorry ge, I’ll do better from now on.”

“You better. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Xiaojun’s weak form, I don’t need any more challenges today.” Kun is taken aback by the comment. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Xiaojun curl into himself almost as if trying to disappear, and it fills him with rage. Fire spreads from the tips of his fingers all the way to his toes. His hands ball into fists as he struggles to maintain his calm demeanor. He can handle the insults thrown his way, but something about this one comment set him off. Poor Xiaojun is struggling enough with his own confidence and Kun knows things like this really get to him. He doesn’t want to let this teacher continue to talk shit about the people he cares for. His members stare at him almost expectantly as he glares daggers into the back of the staffs’ heads. Checking his watch, he realizes that there’s 5 minutes left of rehearsal and reality sinks in slowly.

Kun, having been cursed with “holding the braincell” (as Hendery lovingly puts it), knows that if he goes off on the teacher it’ll only hurt his members more. God only knows what’d happen to them if the staff report them as “difficult to work with” or anything. As much as the members want him to assert their needs, they have to know that he stays silent to protect them. So he reluctantly bites his tongue and just continues to dance for 5 long, agonizing, scream-filled minutes.

⏳

The ride back to the dorms is unusually quiet. All the members seemingly too upset or too tired to speak. Ten rests his sleepy head on Kun’s shoulder in a form of comfort that’s only half effective. Kun watches as Hendery holds a shaken Xiaojun and whispers affirmations into his hair. He sees Winwin and Yangyang cuddle up to Lucas trying to get as much sleep as they can in the uncomfortable position. Knots of guilt and sadness begin to form in Kun’s stomach. He attempts to focus on Ten’s heartbeat against his side, but he’s never able to drift off.

Once they get home everything explodes.

“How could you let him do that ge?? Shit talk us like that?? You should’ve said something.” Yangyang cries out, emotional and desperate. The tears they’d all been holding in spilling over in the tense atmosphere. Kun stares back in bewilderment, unable to form a coherent response, and Yangyang is not having it.

“LOOK WHAT HE DID TO POOR XIAOJUN!! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM JUST DO THAT????”

“It’s not Kun’s responsibility to cuss out teachers baby.” Ten interjects, trying to calm the two.

“But he could’ve said something. He’s our leader, he should look out for us.” Hendery pipes up, his tone even but a slight bite lies in his words. Kun’s really trying not to cry now. He should’ve been there for them. He was so stupid to stay quiet, they neeeded him, and he’d failed them.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kun mutters. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor.

“You should be.” Yangyang spits out, before turning on his heels and stomping to his room, slamming the door closed.

“Guys, there’s no use placing blame right now. It’s really late, we should all get to bed.” Lucas shoots a small smile in Kun’s direction before shooing Hendery and Xiaojun into their room. Kun walks shakily to his own room, not bothering to get changed. He sits on his bed and buries his head in his knees, focusing on his shallow breaths.

He felt like the worst friend on the planet. His members had been suffering and all he could do was watch. Some leader, he never should’ve debuted. He’s so worthless, so stupid, so-

“Kunnie?”

Ten’s silky voice cuts through Kun’s thoughts like a knife.

“Kun can I come in?”

Kun makes no motion to look up or get the door, only letting out a noise of confirmation before he hears the doorknob turn.

“Oh darling,” And all it takes is that one pet name for Kun to shatter like glass. His body shakes with each silent sob, all the emotions from today come pouring out. Ten sits patiently, never forcing Kun or rushing him. He’s too perfect Kun thinks. I don’t deserve him follows soon after only making him sob harder. Ten’s hands find their way into Kun’s hair, massaging his scalp assuringly. Several minutes later, Kun’s breathing has evened out until only occasional sniffles remain. He looks up at his boyfriend reluctantly, finding only care and worry in his brown eyes. Ten’s expression melts into a fond smile, pressing a kiss to Kun’s temple before getting up and moving to the dresser. Kun’s gaze follows him, puzzled, until the younger boy turns back to him with pajamas and a large sweatshirt. Ten motions for Kun to lift his arms and begins undressing him. Once Kun is comfortable in his pajamas, Ten sits back down on the bed.

“Care to tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Kun can’t help the slight heat that spreads across his cheeks. Even though they’ve been dating for 3 months now, Ten still manages to fluster Kun with ease. It’s just one of his many annoying charms.

“Nothing,” Kun lies, not convincing Ten for a second.

“Come on Kun, knowing you, I’d be more worried if you WEREN’T overthinking this,” Ten giggles melodically making Kun’s stomach flip slightly. “I’m not gonna judge you sweetheart, I swear.” Kun looks down and fidgets with his sleeves.

“It’s just…” he begins, “I feel like a shit leader. Like I wasn’t even able to protect you guys from our own staff! I just think I should’ve... done better.”

“You saying something would only make the situation worse, and we all know that.” Ten smiles lightly. “You can’t actually blame yourself for this Kun, look at me.” Ten presses his forehead against Kun’s and their gazes meet.

“You have to know they didn’t mean that,” Ten’s eyes scan Kun’s, “You didn’t do anything wrong bub, they’re just tired and upset.” Kun nods understandingly, but is obviously still uneasy. Ten quickly notices this and presses his lips to Kun’s. Their eyes flutter shut as each of them get lost in the feeling of each other. Ten’s lips work as if he’s trying to erase all traces of doubt and worry from his boyfriend’s mind. To be honest, it’s kinda working. When they break apart for air Kun can’t wipe the smile off his face. Ten, wearing an equally dopey smile, reaches up to wipe the saliva from Kun’s lips tenderly. He looks into Kun’s eyes with intent as he delivers his next statement.

“You. are. not. always. to. blame.” He boops his nose with each word for emphasis. “You did what you thought was best for the group, as any good leader does. You are so kind and considerate darling, the members love you so so much, you are the perfect leader for WayV.” Kun’s face feels like splitting from the size of the smile he’s wearing now.

“I love you so much.” Ten giggles and pecks Kun’s lips once more.

“I love you too, my handsome baby. Now get over here and sleep with me. We’ve had a long day.” And who’s Kun to refuse such an offer?

⏳

The next morning, Kun watches as Yangyang shuffles into the kitchen looking considerably more rested and also considerably more guilty. He pauses eating his breakfast to look up at the young boy.

“I’m really sorry Kun-ge, I didn’t mean to get so angry last night. And I definitely didn’t mean any of the things I said.” He genuinely admits. Kun only smiles.

“It’s ok Yangyang, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” Yangyang’s shoulders relax at that.

“Thank goodness. I feel really bad about it.”

“No need. All is forgiven.”

“So does this mean you’ll make me pancakes?”

“You little-”

KUNTEN PIC OF THE DAY:

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remember-to-be-gentle · 5 years ago

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I’ve been working on this piece for over a MONTH and it still needs work, but I’m tired of keeping this to myself, so here it is.

Subject: BNHA, Tamaki Amajiki + Dabi

Title: Hungry Hero, Vicious Villain (NSFW, pro hero!fem reader)

TW: Non Con, Penis/Balls expansion, bisexual?, Coercion, Implied Kidnapping, I genuinely don’t know what else I should tag this

This couldn't be happening. It was supposed to be an easy raid on a potential hideout for the League of Villains. You and your finance, Tamaki, had gone in together and things had quickly gone South when you were captured. Arms pinned above your head and a knife to your throat, you heard Dabi say, "Wait, are you actually getting hard right now?"

Tamaki's face burned red, his ears slouching and shoulders scrunching. "I'm sorry." You stared in disbelief at the bulge in his costume.

The two of you had refrained from sex until the wedding and conversation about kinks hadn't come up naturally, but could sweet and shy Tamaki really be into something like this?

Dabi laughed in disbelief. "Hey, Suneater, you're a virgin, aren't you." It wasn't a question. Tamaki nodded. The laughter that came from Dabi's throat was dark, malicious. "A hero who hasn't even gotten his dick wet. Well, since your raid of our hideout failed, why don't I do you a favor?"

A dark feeling settled in your stomach.

He leaned into your ear, "If you so much as twitch I'll burn you to a crisp." His hands made their way down your costume, yanking open the buttons and zippers, exposing your breasts. Tamaki couldn't take his eyes off them. One of Dabi's burning hands wrapped around your breast, carefully groping and massaging the skin until your nipple hardened. Tamaki looked like he was going to drool. "You haven't so much as seen these yet, have you? Your girl has nice tits, you're going to like playing with these."

Tamaki didn't respond, his breathing heavy and hands twitching at his sides. The bulge was getting bigger.

Dabi continued to pull your costume off of you, he could kill you at any moment and Tamaki was completely entranced by what he was doing to you. Was he so sex-starved that watching a villain rape you could be satisfying?

Dabi ripped off the bottom of your costume, leaving you completely nude, yanking your legs up and apart. "You see her pussy? It's real pink, isn’t it?”

Tamaki’s eyes went wide, focusing on your exposed hole. You wanted to squirm, escape Dabi’s hands grasp, and reclaim some sense of dignity, but if you did, you’d die.

“If you want to enjoy it to the fullest, we need to make it drool.” Dabi’s voice settled into a growl. Behind you, you could feel his dick getting hard, excited but not nearly as much as Tamaki was. “Do you want a little taste of your wife-to-be?"

Tamaki nodded.

"Why don't you give it a taste then, eating hero."

"I shouldn't..." He was giving you a pathetic look, the one where he pouted when baristas forgot sugar in his coffee and he didn't have the confidence to ask for a remake. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to.

"If you don't, I'll burn her breasts off."

That spurred him forward. Tamaki gave you an apologetic look, but you could see him licking his lips, eager for a taste. This needed to end. "Stop this," your voice was far smaller than you’d like, "please, there's no need for any of this."

Dabi hushed you. "Watch him," he hissed. “If you look away for even a moment, I’ll burn you.”

Tamaki looked overwhelmed between your legs, staring at your clit and slit as if it were a food he wasn't sure how to eat.

"Instruct him," Dabi murmured in your ear. “You know what happens if you don’t.”

Damn it. How had a simple raid ended up like this? "Suneater," you said, careful to use his codename, "use your tongue. There's a pink nub toward the top, just start with that." You’d had a few minor sexual experiences before, fingers and humping from old partners along with your own dildo, but nothing this direct. You were almost as much in the dark as Tamaki.

“Pink... nub...” His face vanished between your thighs and then you felt it: hot tongue on your clit. It took everything not to cry out, sharp tingling tightening your muscles. Dabi laughed when he felt you tense, but didn’t say anything. “That one?” Tamaki's voice shook, whether with excitement, nervousness, or a combination of the two, you couldn't tell.

Damn it, why was he asking? “Y-Yes.” Where you’d been able to hold back your reactions, the facade was fading fast now that he was actually touching you. Your face burned and fingers clenched into fists uselessly at your sides.

That tingling came again, longer in its duration, as Tamaki licked you slowly. He lapped at you experimentally, gauging your reaction to his tongue each time. Sometimes a little harder. Sometimes just barely gliding over your sensitive bud, testing how each stroke of his tongue made you squirm. And then he bit down you. You couldn’t hold your voice back anymore, nearly screaming at the sensation of his teeth rolling across your sensitive clit. “Tamaki! Stop! I—.”

Dabi hissed at you into silence. “Suneater, why don’t you play with these a little?” He bucked at you from behind, sending your entrance into Tamaki’s face and making your breasts bounce. “You can use your mouth on these, too.”

Begrudgingly, Tamaki dismounted his face from your entrance. He reached for your breasts, hesitancy making his fingers curl.

“Flick her nipple. Do it before I get bored.”

Tamaki obeyed. His finger shot out, hitting your nipple with enough force to make the entire breast jiggle. He shuddered. Those hesitant hands grabbed your breasts, roughly squeezing and groping them. He brought himself closer, the huffs of his panting breath loud and needy.

Dabi pushed you forward, making your crotch connect with Tamaki’s. He cried out, eyes wide. Something hot and wet spread between you two. You realized with a terrible soberness that Tamaki had just creamed his costume. He groaned, rubbing his hyper-sensitive cock against you, using your breasts to keep him grounded. “I...” He swallowed. “I want to be inside.”

Inside? You looked down at his crotch where he was still heavily erect under the tent in his pants.

“Then take it out, hero, show your precious fiancee your filthy hero cock.”

“It's not... filthy...” he muttered, unzipping his crotch so his erection could spring free.

Dabi whistled. You stared. It was enormous, slick with the load he’d exploded in his pants. You’d seen Tamaki naked before, it was a hazard of sharing a changing room at your agency and spending so much time together. You could say with certainty that you’d never seen Tamaki that big. His balls hadn’t been that big, either. They looked swollen with unused cum.

“So it's true,” Dabi laughed, “you do have to have huge balls to be a hero.” He got on his knees, spreading you out on the floor. “Go ahead. Use her pussy until it becomes your cumdump. She deserves it for keeping you waiting, doesn’t she? And even if you don’t want to, I’d burn her to nothing if you don’t.”

“It's too big!” You shouted. Dabi pushed you down into the ground, his grip bruising.

Tamaki looked away, pulling his hood over his face. “I’m sorry... It's a side effect of my quirk. Anything I don’t use has to go somewhere...”

Dabi licked his lips. “I knew playing with you two was a good idea. I wonder how big we can get that dick, probably big enough to tear you apart. Fuck, now I’m wishing we’d gotten here sooner. Whatever, stick it in, Suneater.”

“But you said... it should be drooling...”

“Close enough. We’ll get it there next time.” Next time? Before could you think more on what he meant, Dabi pushed his fingers inside you. They spread you wide and you squealed, feeling his fingers play with the slick that had built up. A slimy smile spread across his face. “This should be fine.” Slowly, Dabi set you on the ground, keeping your legs spread open, “Go on, hero, put it inside.”

Tamaki didn’t wait for Dabi to finish speaking, shoving his cock inside you. You cried out, feeling his swollen dick spread you out completely, nearly creating a bulge in your stomach. You grabbed his costume, unable to feel anything except his length inside you, twitching with anticipation, filling you to the brim. Tamaki moaned, clenching his teeth at your tightness.

“You’ve been waiting for that, haven’t you?” Dabi purred, “I bet you fantasized about it every time she so much as bent over. Every time you were home alone with her sleeping form and you knew it would have been so easy to use that plush little mouth to get you off.”

Tamaki shuddered, making a pitiful little noise in the back of his throat. He had.

“Tamaki—.”

“Keep that pretty mouth of yours shut. The only thing I want to hear out of you is how much you love your fiance’s cock.” Dabi growled. He grabbed Tamaki’s hood, forcing him down, “Now fuck her like you’ve always wanted. Like the wild fucking beast you are.”

And then he did. Tamaki pulled back and slammed back in, groaning as he did. It felt like lightning up your body, pooling in your fingers and toes with each twitch of his cock. Behind you, Dabi praised him, dribbling words of encouragement as if it were honey. Each word seemed to make Tamaki shiver and pump inside you more erratically. His pace left no room for long strokes, he’d found his spot and couldn’t stop rubbing it against the top of your pussy until ropes of his cum were coating your insides.

But he didn't stop. He kept fucking you through his orgasm, slamming against your cervix and then you felt it. By accident, Tamaki's enormous cock had found your spot. The noise that erupted from your throat was impossible to contain, a strangled, breathless cry. He stopped, staring at you as you twitched around him. "What was that?"

"You found it," Dabi answered, "that little spot will make her feel good, too. You can make her cum, too, if you hit it."

"I can make her cum?" The excitement in Tamaki's voice sent a shiver of fear down your spine. He was going to do it, exploit your g-spot until the only thing you could think about was your next orgasm.

"Can you find it again, Suneater?" Dabi pushed.

Tamaki plunged back in, watching your face for the tell-tale sign that he'd found your spot. That massive cock of his slammed right into it, making your muscles tighten and voice cry out. An unhinged smile spread across his face and he did it again. "Does it feel good?"

“Answer him.” Dabi hissed.

You nodded reluctantly, struggling to stop yourself from moaning aloud.

For a second, Tamaki stopped pumping, his cheeks turning bright red, eyes looking away. He was building up his nerve. “Can you say it?” Tamaki pushed. “Say that you like it when I’m... inside...”

“I...” Your voice on the edge of moaning. “I—I like it...” It was getting harder to control, the more he slammed inside of you and rubbed at your spot, the more your voice threatened to leak into moans. You couldn’t show that you really like it in front of Dabi, he could use that as leverage against you: blackmail. On the other hand, Tamaki seemed to have lost himself completely in pleasure. He looked like he was drooling on top of you, hot panting breaths and needy high groans.

Dabi cursed. “Shit, I don’t have time to be waiting around, but...” You looked up at him, your vision blurry and unfocused. What was he planning now? “Hey, hero,” he hissed at Tamaki. “We’re taking this show on the road. Take your dick out, you’ll finish up later.”

What?

“What?” Tamaki blinked slowly, his wild thrusts coming to a slow stop.

Dabi reached out a scarred hand, brushing his thumb across Tamaki’s cheek, “You two are coming with me.”

#raven writes #bnha #suneater x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #dabi x reader #tamaki amajiki #suneater #dabi #x reader #tw non con #tw #penis expansion #tw balls expansion #i will recylce this trope every time i use tamaki #tw coercion #let me know what other trigger warnings i need on this #tw kidnapping

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years ago

Text

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 19)

“Lucky girl.” Go-Hara rasps one day. “Lucky, lucky girl.” She tsks.

“How can you say that?” Azula asks. The very question is an absolute affront. One that sets her fire blazing to a degree she hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Because you had a chance.” She pauses and corrects herself. “You have a chance and you’re throwing it away.”

Azula furrows her brows and shakes her head, “You had it right the first time, I had a chance. My chance is gone.” Twice over. It would seem that each time she has her fingers (very firmly) around something that will make her happy, someone comes to pry her fingers off of it. Or maybe she squeezes too tightly and shatters it herself.

The old woman tsks again. “You have a chance! You have a chance! You. Have. A. Chance!” Azula should be used to her turbulent moods by now, but this time the woman is acting rather infantile. She wonders if the disease has progressed, wonders if leprosy can even do such a thing to the mind.

“We should talk about something else.”

“You should stop playing in alleyways and make a life for yourself…”

“I already tried that.” Twice over.

Quick and deadly as a lightning strike, the woman’s mood shifts. She is very visibly enraged and Azula can’t understand why. She thinks that Go-Hara detects her confusion. “I don’t have a chance. I’d give anything to have one. But…” she holds up her knobby hands, “Every day in this decrepit town, I watch perfectly healthy folks waste what they have. Nobody wants to fight for anything anymore. They fail once or twice and they decide that there’s nothing to fight for.”

Azula opens her mouth. But Go-Hara rages on, her fury seems to build with every word and by the end of her raving her voice is raw and soft, “that’s because they don’t know what it’s like to truly be in a position where fighting isn’t an option.” She backpedals, “where it’s an option but it truly doesn’t matter how much fight you have in you, you’re punching at a breeze. And I just have to watch them give up, wishing that I had the chance to just throw my life away. I don’t even have a life to throw away.”

Her breathing is rugged.

There are a lot of things that Azula can say. Things that are better. Things that could calm the woman down or appease her. She picks the one thing that will do anything but. “Perhaps you’re the lucky one; you don’t have to fight to die like the rest of us.”

Go-Hara turns on her heel and storms away. She is startlingly fast, Azula chalks it up to pure hatred fueled adrenaline.

She doesn’t see the woman again for a very long time. It is so terribly lonely and the more she thinks about it, the more pleasant it seems to prove to Go-Hara, to herself, to everyone that she is ready to see herself out. Maybe that will drive home how little of a chance she knows she has. Or maybe there is no one to prove anything to. Likely Go-Hara has died like everyone else she gets close to. This time the note is a bitter one to end on.

She ventures into the forest that day and she comes back with a few sprigs of hemlock in her gloved hands. She finds that her usual spot is occupied. She counts the flowers in her hands, there is plenty of spare hemlock to offer the intruder.

“Where were you?”

“Picking flowers.” They fall to the alley floor.

Go-Hara eyes the hemlock at her feet, “bah! Some bouquet that is.”

“I thought that you died.”

She thinks that the woman is snarling. But it is often hard to tell with Go-Hara, especially these days. The woman’s worsening condition is beginning to limit her facial movement. “I am going to lose this fight.” She declares. “But I’m still fighting.” The resentment is back, possibly fuller than before. “You can win but you’ve stopped fighting.”

Azula swallows and waits for the woman to demand that she pick herself back up and resume the battle. Instead she gestures to the flowers. “Go on then. They’re right there, eat ‘em off’a the dirty ground.”

Azula folds her arms over her chest, torn between hatred and misery. Torn between wanting to do just that, if only to see how the woman would react, and wanting to kick the flowers away out of spite.

Instead she finds herself standing there. Now that it is happening, she wonders how it hasn’t happened sooner; she finds herself wondering about Hajime and Atsu in the Spirit World. She imagines herself standing there in a bubbling hot spring with bamboo that reaches gold-orange clouds. There is steam all around,enchanting as it crawls over black sand, and curls around formations of long hardened magma. That is how she has always imagined the Spirit World. And Hajime and Atsu stand in the pool, Seukhyun and Caihong too. But they aren’t delighted to see her. And when Hajime embraces her it is mournful. He blames himself. He says that she shouldn’t be here. Ojihara is furious. Absolutely livid. Just like Go-Hara…

When she comes back to herself she finds that the real Go-Hara isn’t angry at all. Not anymore.

“I just want you to have a chance.” The woman mumbles. “I met a lot of people and a lot of them don’t deserve to live.”

She has always appreciated the woman’s bluntness.

“Why do you think that I do?”

The woman shrugs. “Sometimes you just get a feeling about a person.”

Azula doesn’t take the hemlock that night or the next. She doesn’t take it at all. Go-Hara doesn’t bring up matters of motivation again.

.oOo.

“Are you happy?” Azula asks one morning. A morning where things aren’t particularly good nor particularly bad. These are the honest days. The days when she truly knows how she feels within.

“Happy?” The woman grins as wide as her affliction will allow. “I’m downright joyful! I’ve gotten to see more sunsets than most people. I got to ride hippo-cows and lasso ostrich horses.” Azula thinks that it is supposed to be the other way around, not that she knows much about ranches. “And I got to meet a princess before I died! They call me a dead woman walking, but I’ve lived more than the lot’a them!” Suddenly her laugh isn’t such a hideous sound. This is the Go-Hara whose company she enjoys.

“Sounds, fulfilling.” Azula nods.

“Aye, girl!” She nods. “You’re no lepper. You have a full life to live. I ain’t got much longer. Can you do a dying old woman a favor?”

“Depends on the favor.”

Go-Hara chuckles. “Can you live that full life for me? I can’t do it, can you?”

That morning she leaves a blanket in the alleyway, at the old woman’s feet. On an old scrap of paper she scawls a thank you. And with the rising sun as a backdrop, she heads for the vast grassland again.

That day she learns that sometimes the sick are less ill than the healthy.

.oOo.

She thinks about it more than she thought she would. It was just a little touch. A soft little brush. But she has learned that those smaller, simpler touches are often more profound than the bolder declarations. She absently touches her cheek where his hand had been. She can still feel phantom tingles.

It was only a playful gesture… Only a playful gesture and yet…

She hears a knock on her door and her heart quickens if only somewhat. Upon opening it, TyLee flounces into the room and flops onto the bed. Azula had forgotten that the woman liked to do that.

“I know that you don’t like baking, but Mai’s birthday is tomorrow…”

Azula had forgotten that too. Granted she has never really had time for birthdays.

“I was hoping that we could bake her something special. She doesn’t like the icing on the other cakes, it’s ‘too bright’. I think that it’s just fine though.”

“Sure, TyLee, I’ll help you bake.” Though she can’t promise that it will be any good. Hajime had tried time and time again to teach her to cook the things she harvested but the culinary arts are lost on her.

“Great!” TyLee bounces up once more. She takes Azula by the hand and drags her into the kitchen.

“Okay so I’ve already…”

“Made a huge mess.” Azula observes. At least she won’t have to feel guilty for wrecking the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“I can’t cook, TyLee.”

She stares at Azula. Azula stares back. The princess is beginning to gather that she had been summoned under the impression that she could make something of this mess.

“You didn’t learn to cook in the Earth Kingdom?”

She shakes her head. “I know how to roast meat.” Even then she usually burns it quite badly. “Have you tried asking Zuzu?”

TyLee nods. “It wasn’t this bad before he got here. The head chef personally escorted him out.”

.oOo.

The first step had been to clean the kitchen. Azula is good at this. She probably should have gotten one of the servants to do it for her but she needs to know with certainty that her baking area is absolutely spotless. And with her hand having done the work, she knows that it is.

TyLee drops two eggs into the flour mix.

Azula shakes her head.

“It says, two eggs’.”

“Yes.” Azula agrees as she cracks it against the rim of the bowl. She cringes as the yolk bursts in her palm. “two cracked eggs.”

TyLee nods. She too rams the an egg against the bowl, dropping the smashed bits into the mix.

“Without the shells.”

“Whoops.” She purses her lips as she begins picking shell shards out. “Well how do we get the yolk out without getting shell bits?”

“You open it correctly.”

“How?”

Azula wipes her hands clean and shrugs. She plucks another egg and tries again. Just when she thinks that the yolk will slide easily free, it explodes again, spattering her face with yolk. She crinkles her nose and wipes the mess from her forehead.

“You have to be gentle.” TyLee suggests. She picks up another egg and taps it on the rim of the bowl. This time she only has to pick a few pieces of shell from the mix.

“TyLee, can I ask you something?” She asks upon finally putting the cake in the oven. She will let the servants determine when to take it out.

“Sure, Azula!”

She swallows, before back peddling in her mind, “firstly, did you read my journal with Zuko?”

She cringes, “was I not supposed to?”

“I was hoping that you did.”

TyLee relaxes, “why?”

“Do you think that…” She pauses. “Do you think that Hajime would be angry if I found someone else.” It is a silly question, Hajime can’t get mad at her, he is dead.

“Oh, Azula!” TyLee takes her by the wrists, she thinks of a beach party so long ago, hadn’t TyLee been trying to give her love advice then too? “I think that he would be happy that you aren’t hurt or alone anymore.” Still holding Azula’s hand she presses it over the princess’ heart.

“Okay.”

“Who is it?” TyLee beams.

She isn’t sure how TyLee doesn’t know already. She hasn’t exactly been around that many people. And then she does seem to connect the dots. She gives a happy little gasp and covers her mouth, “it’s Sokka, isn’t it?”

She nods. Still she finds herself hesitant.

.oOo.

She takes the time to wash her floury, yolky hair and changes into fresh silks. She is offered lotions and perfumes and she helps herself to at least a little of it. She thinks that she is finally starting to settle more fully and comfortably back into her old lifestyle. At least a touch anyhow.

“The cake tastes good, what’s it for?”

Azula’s face flashes red, “Sokka, you didn’t!”

He throws his hands up, “I didn’t, I didn’t! Promise.” He drops his hands. “But it smells good.”

Azula exhales. Truly she should knock the man on his ass. “It’s for Mai, can’t you tell.”

He taps his chin. “Gloomy colors. ‘Birthday’ spelled with little mochi chunks and no ‘happy’. Yeah I can tell it’s for Mai.”

“I thought that we should just give her the mochi.”

“I didn’t realize that you can cook.”

Azula gives a dismissive gesture. “Wait until you taste it to make assumptions.”

He laughs. “I guess that you can’t be good at everything.” He takes a seat next to her on the bed, his hand brushes over hers briefly before he finds an unoccupied spot to put it. But she finds it again and without a word she takes it. He stares for a moment, at her hand in his.

“What’s this?” He holds up their hands.

She clears her throat, “it is my hand, Sokka. And yours. I would imagine that you have known what a hand is for a while now.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know what hands are! I just want to know why you’re holding mine.”

“Because it is here.” And she wonders if that is all there is to it. He is simply there and available. But she doesn’t think that this is the case. She is holding his hand because it is his hand. The hand that hovered over hers when she’d first woken up dazed and distraught, it is the hand that took hers at the theater, the hand that guided her as she learned to sew, the hand that held hers when she was falling apart.

He chuckles again. “I don’t exactly know what that means, Azula.”

But she does, she knows exactly what it means and she finds that she is just as hesitant to say it as she had been with Hajime. Perhaps more so. She hasn’t been around Sokka nearly as long as she had been around Hajime--not affectionately anyhow. She doesn’t know how to say it, not in a poetic and elegant way. And maybe that is just it, maybe it isn’t something that is meant to be spoken at all.

Anyways, she had promised Go-Hara that she would live. That she wouldn’t waste her youth and her pretty face. She had promised to truly live. She doesn’t give herself time to overthink it. She cups Sokka’s face in her hands and pulls his face closer for a kiss. Her first one in a very, very long time.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla

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shigarakis-fifth-hand · 5 years ago

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Bakugo x Reader; Catch Ya Later

Bakugo is suspicious of Reader, who seems to be perfect in every way. He is obsessed with finding her dirty secret, or could he be obsessed for another reason?

Enjoy the series! <3 one two three

Bakugo was sitting at his desk, waiting for the teacher to arrive when you walk in. He only looks at you for a second or two before you are crowded around by students. “Huh, what’s the big deal?” Bakugo asks himself, not meaning for Mineta to turn around and pull out magazines with your photos on it.

“She’s a model, see?! She models for Peace & Positivity! It’s a hero agency that trains people to disarm villains in the least violent way possible! She had a nature quirk, see? Look at that pic of her in a bikini! See how to fish are drawn to her? Oh, and here she’s wearing a crop top and the parrots land on her head!”

Bakugo takes the magazine, looking at it. Sure, he can’t help but look at you from time to time, but mostly he reads the Meet the Model. You say that you’re the shy type, have a thing for bad boys, and you want to become a hero. You have long h/c hair and beautiful, bright e/c eyes with long eye lashes. You always wear a vine on your wrist that’s connected to your body for your hero use.

You’re short, almost an entire foot below Katsuki. Bakugo puts the magazine in his backpack, knowing that he will learn your deal before tomorrow. You cannot be the perfect, innocent girl you appear to be. Katsuki wants to find your secrets.

Over the next day, Bakugo watches you from a far. You are beyond the most popular girl in the school, becoming quick friends with everyone in the class and even the older years, especially the Big Three who you already have plans with. Bakugo notices how Nejire looks up and down at you and your body. It makes him angry for some reason.

When Bakugo is done with his research, he can’t find a single bad thing about you. You’re beautiful, sweet, kind, friendly, funny, and very single. Were you secretly a villain? Bakugo had to put you to the test.

Bakugo walks up to you during the morning, pounding his fists on your desk when Mina and few of your other friends surround you. “Um, hi?” You ask, not really knowing who he is. He looks like the annoying Pomeranian named Lady that your aunt has, and his glowing red eyes give you a devil feel.

“Listen Miss Little Perfect, what the hell are you doing in the hero course?! You’re a peaceful little girl with a nature quirk, and honestly, I don’t see how a nature quirk can help you be a hero.” Everyone looks at Bakugo with bug-eyes. How could he say that about you?!

“Dude, she was recommended into UA. I don’t think you understand what that-” Bakugo smacks Denki in the head multiple times. “Hey! Stop it!” You defend him, the vine shooting from your wrist and wrapping around Bakugo’s arm to push him away.

“Don’t hurt Kaminari like that!” You yell as Bakugo walks up to you, small explosions coming from his palms. “Oh now you want to tell me what to do?! Oh you, better wait because I-” The explosions stop as Aizawa walks into the room, shutting you up.

“We’re doing training. Everyone will have a partner. We’re doing heroes vs villains. Now everyone draw a number and go change into your hero costumes.” Everyone went to get a number, and then went to change. You went with Ochako, Momo, Asui, and Mina.

“What was that all about?”, “I think he likes you!”, “He was so rude.”, and “You put him in his place for sure!” filled your ears as you got changed. Heading out, you looked at your slip of paper. You got a blue slip, and was 1#. “Huh, what does that mean?” You asked yourself as All Might stepped out to talk.

“Now, if you are blue, you are trying to get the bomb. If you got a red slip, you are playing to protect it at all costs. Now, can we have 1 come up here. We will use them as our first examples. And don’t worry, all of this is completely safe. We will step in if you get close to being hurt.” He smiled brightly as you stood up.

“Now, Deku and Todoroki will be the heroes! You two will be protecting the bomb!” He explained to the class what the heroes were doing, which was pretty simple.

“Wonderful! Young Y/n is our first villain, along with Bakugo!” WHAT. You turned to see the angry Bakugo walking towards you, looking furious. “Now here’s what you will be doing!” As he went on the explain, you didn’t really listen. All you knew was that you and Bakugo would be working together to get your hands on a large item in the building, while Deku and Todoroki would trying to stop you with a time limit of ten minutes.

The entire time he talked, Bakugo’s angry red eyes stared into your soul, piercing into your brain and thoughts. Scary stuff right there.

“Wonderful! Now get in place!” All Might let you go, setting up the cameras for the class to watch as you and Bakugo walked to the edge of building. “Okay, so I’m thinking that you can blow up the ground and make it hard to walk around, and then we can use my vines to get by.” Bakugo scoffed at your plan, waving you away. “Just stay out of my way, I don’t need you.” You looked at Bakugo intensely.

“Bakugo! I’m not failing this because you don’t like me! Now stop being a child!” You scolded him as he turned to you, a smirk on his face. “I’ll stop being a child when you stop thinking you’re the best thing in the world even though you’re just a weak slut who models for all the perverts in the world to stare at while you think you can become a hero because you’re pretty. Just watch, I’m a lot more powerful than you. Everyone in this class is.”

As the countdown started, Bakugo turned away from you, not seeing your eyes fill with tears. When the countdown was over, Bakugo sprinted into the hallway, exploding every wall in his path. “God, doesn’t he know we need to be quiet?” You asked yourself, before using the vine on your wrist to life you to the ceiling to transport you.

The ceilings were high and people didn’t look up often, so you could spring down on unsuspecting competitors. Up and down the hallway, you listened to the sounds that surrounded you before you heard Bakugo screaming. Without hesitating, you dropped to the ground and began running as fast as you could, only stopping when you saw Bakugo fighting Deku, Deku getting ready to hit Bakugo with his full strength.

“Bakugo! Watch out!” You slammed your body into Bakugo, pushing him away. In seconds, you were able to use the vine on your wrist to grow and wrap around Deku’s leg before the vine sprouted a single flower. “What the-” Bakugo began to speak before you handed him a piece of cloth that was detachable from your hero suit.

“Hold this to your mouth! If you breathe it in, you fall asleep!” You yelled, shoving another cloth over your own mouth, letting the flower release a pink midnight. “Y-you’re like Midnight.” Bakugo couldn’t help but smile as Deku slowly drifted off to sleep. “Eh, I have higher standards. Now let’s go!” You joked, before running to the nearest wall.

“Katsuki, give me your hand!” You yelled, gripping his hand without an answer and using the vine to propel you two through the hole in the ceiling. Once you got up there, you had a full view of the object. “Get it!” Bakugo yelled, helping to push you forward towards the bomb.

Then, out of nowhere, Todoroki jumped out, using his fire to blast you into the window. The next few seconds was a full blur. Glass shattered, your skin was on fire, and you were screaming. Bakugo and Todoroki ran to your side, seeing that your skin was bleeding and burnt. “Y/n, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were so close, I thought you were down the hallway!” Todoroki yelled as you pushed Bakugo away.

“Get… the… thing Bakugo! You wanted to win!” You screamed in pain, tears streaming down your face as the alarms went off in the building. “What? No, Y/n. This is over.” He was right. As you grinded your teeth in pain, Bakugo was able to carry you bridal style to where to teachers were waiting.

“Oh my god, Y/n!” Aizawa and All Might ran towards you, Aizawa prying you from Bakugo’s arms. “No! You said she would be okay! You said you’d watch to make sure nobody got hurt! You lied!” Bakugo yelled angrily, sobbing at All Might as everyone watched Aizawa run you to Recovery Girl, him holding an unconscious you in his arms.

“And you! You burned her! You sent her flying to glass!” Bakugo ran at Todoroki, many students having to hold him back. “You pushed her asshole!” Todoroki ran pack, All Might having to pick him up to keep him from charging each other.

The rest of the day was cancelled, and everyone was sent back to class where Present Mic tried to cheer everyone up with dad jokes and funny stories about Aizawa during his high school days. Everyone couldn’t get the view of you, your entire back burnt up in 3rd degree burns and your arms and neck cut up by the window glass.

Bakugo especially… You had been in so much pain after he had told you to run for it. It was his fault really. And on top of everything, he had said such terrible things to you.

“Sensei!” Bakugo held his hand up, getting his attention. “I… need to go check up on Y/n. Please.” He quietly begged, trying not to draw attention as Present Mic sighed and nodded, letting Bakugo run out.

He ran as fast as he could, turning the corner to see you laying on the bed, your entire chest and back wrapped in bandages, your arms as well. “Shh, I just got her to sleep. Gave her the strongest sleep medication I got. You’re that Katsuki one, the one she was talking about, right?” Recover Girl asked, sitting at her desk. “Y-yes mam. I was just… checking on her.” Bakugo sat down next to your head, running his hands through your hair.

“Don’t lie to me boy. You feel bad, don’t you? That Todoroki came by earlier too. Y/n is a sweet girl, I’m not surprised she has as many boys as she does visiting her. You think she’s pretty?” Recovery Girl asked, walking over to Y/n and pressing her hand on her back. Bakugo blushed, choosing not to answer the question.

It did anger him that Todoroki had gotten to talk to her while she was awake. “Anyways, I doubt she’ll be up until later. You won’t see her until this evening in the dorms, I’m sorry.” She walked back to her desk, chewing on a piece of taffy.

“Um, what time do you think?” Bakugo asked, eager to wait for her. “Oh, you want to walk her to the dorms? How cute. Todoroki asked me the same thing. I’ll have her out by the end of school. Just make sure she rests tonight, okay? Those burns will be okay by tomorrow. Now shoo.” Recovery Girl sent him out of the room as Bakugo smiled.

Now that he thought about it, Y/n was very pretty.

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kiara-carrera · 3 years ago

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leah and jj + hugging while walking for the touches ask game?

season 2 spoilers for everything up to the bonfire episode (where this it set)! this is both canon and not canon because i will in fact adjust all of my ideas at least seventy-four times whoops ... we’re also gonna ignore the fact that the hug while walking lasts exactly one line, a true blink and you miss it kind of nonsense. is this well written? no, but that’s not my strong suit anyways.

18. hugging while walking: leah + jj

“I’m just saying — I don’t trust her. And I really don’t think we should be leaving John B alone right now, especially with her.”

Around them, the annual bonfire was in full swing. Music was blaring, drinks sloshing out of solo cups and dripping down the arms of kids too slow on a shotgunned can, bodies clustered in the middle as friends danced and chatted the night away. The bonfire was like a Boneyard party — neutral ground where Pogues and Kooks could (mostly) coexist for a night of getting shit faced and making terrible decisions.

Instead of being up in the mix, Leah found herself off to the side, a frown on her face as she watched John B get yanked into a conversation with a girl from their school — Yvonne, a junior like them, and also someone John B had gotten fairly familiar with the previous year, before dads began disappearing at sea, gold cropped up in wells, and mysteries and murder landed on their doorsteps.

Even if the relationship (marriage?) between John B and Sarah hadn’t just fucking exploded — okay, wait, maybe that wasn’t the right word to use all things considered. Either way, she would have been having the exact same reaction. Because like most of the people John B and JJ had gotten involved with over the years, Leah couldn’t fucking stand the sight of her.

JJ snorted from beside her, watching on as Leah glared across the party where John B had all but been wrangled into a conversation with Yvonne. “Remind me what your problem with her is again?”

Her head snapped towards him, finally breaking her one-sided glare session, regarding JJ as if he’d suddenly grown another five heads. “You’re kidding, right? Do you not remember how fucking exhausting she was when John B was doing ... whatever the fuck that thing he had with her last year was?”

“He was banging her,” JJ said bluntly, laughing when Leah wrinkled her nose. “And no, I don’t.”

“Figures, because you’d always run off with Pope and leave me alone with them. Like, she was fine at first until she started getting super weird and territorial over him with me, which was fucking weird because they weren’t even dating and also newsflash — I was so not trying to steal John B from her. It’s John B. I’d rather eat a bar of soap.”

“John B can handle himself,” JJ told her, taking a sip from his drink. He’d already had half a beer that he’d failed to shotgun and had scored a solo cup from some kid in their year. “He’s probably going to be bitching about missing Sarah to her the whole time anyways, and I know I’m not spending my night babysitting him with you.”

Leah raised an eyebrow at him, reaching out to snatch his drink from his hand. She grinned when he made a noise of protest when she took a small sip. Grimacing at the taste, she told him, “This tastes like lighter fluid, first of all. And who said you had to hang out with me tonight?”

Another grin broke out on her lips, watching as his eyebrows knitted in confusion at her words. There was just the tiniest hint of a frown that she might have missed if she hadn’t been watching him as closely as she was or if the flickering lights of the bonfire hadn’t casted a decent amount of light to where they were standing.

She wasn’t expecting him to turn it around on her though.

His confusion disappeared at the drop of a hat, a somewhat cocky expression tugging at the corner of his lips as he replied, “Figured you wouldn’t be complaining about that.”

Embarrassed heat crawled up her neck at his words, eyes narrowing at him. Leah wasn’t sure why she expected JJ to not be a teasing dick about everything — perhaps it was the way he’d been far to eager to put his mouth on hers the other day that made her think they were on the same page.

Apparently not.

Everything was just weird. Between the kiss the night Rafe and Barry crashed John B and Sarah’s welcome home party and everything that had happened between then and now it was just ... it was like her world had been thrown off-kilter. They’d barely talked about it. Every conversation either got ruined, interrupted, or ended in a kiss. She wasn’t complaining about the third one, but it felt entirely too vulnerable to not know where she stood.

Did she like JJ? Yes. Did JJ like her? ...Wildly undetermined. On the one hand, he definitely liked the physicality of it all. But there was still that horrid little voice in the back of her mind that worried. Worried because he’d never actually been in a serious relationship, had never looked for one. Worried that she’d divulged too much too soon and that he was trying simply for the sake of their friendship.

She’d already seen the way Kiara and Pope had fractured. She didn’t exactly want to be the star of the sequel.

It was already hard enough accepting that her feelings for JJ were far beyond anything platonic. It was hard having to go around knowing what it felt like to have his mouth on hers, his hand tangled in her hair as she tasted weed and Natural Light on his lips. It was hard enough to know that there was something there, but not knowing what that something was.

He’d told her to stop putting words in his mouth, to stop jumping to conclusions about how he was feeling, but what the fuck was she supposed to do when it seemed like this was all just some weird way to pass time?

It was just her luck that she was shit at feelings like this and that she just had to go fall for her friend who was quite possibly worse than her.

And now he was fucking teasing her. Yup, saying shit to him was starting to look more and more like a colossal fucking mistake.

“You’re a dick,” she muttered to him, cheeks burning as she turned to go find Kie or Pope.

Leah made it all but two feet before two familiar arms wrapped around her waist, JJ doing his best to prevent her from going any further.

“Lee Lee,” he whined in her ear. “C’mon, it was a joke.”

“Must have forgot to laugh,” she replied, beer sloshing around the cup in her hands as she tried to keep moving. But his arms were wrapped around her in a bear hug, his boots shuffling in the dirt behind her converse.

“Jesus,” he muttered, finally tugging her to a complete halt, groaning in annoyance a little as she refused to turn around to face him. But she’d stopped trying to move forward, still wearing a frown as he released her and circled around her to be face to face once again. “Done pouting now?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I’m gonna shove you into the bonfire.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Not really into that, but thanks.”

Another flush of heat, this more out of annoyance than anything else, rose to her cheeks. “Can you be serious for like five seconds and stop making it your night’s goal to annoy me?”

The seriousness of her tone made his smile falter just a little bit. “Oh, c’mon, it was a joke. I wanna hang with you tonight, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t see me standing around anyone else, do you?” He glanced around, as if trying to prove his rhetorical point.

The tiniest, most traitorous of a laugh escaped her, but she quickly doubled back with a semi forced frown. “Too late, your friendship privileges have been provoked for the night.”

“What about macking privileges?”

The frown? Gone. Eyes? A little wide. Heart? Well, she was lucky her ribcage was there to keep it from popping out of her chest like a fucking cartoon.

A little flustered, she told him, “Funny, JJ, should consider being a comedian.”

“Not joking.” His tone was as serious as his words, more serious than he tended to be, especially at a party which surprised her, but it was the next thing he did that really caught her attention.

Leah knew that JJ was annoying when it came to getting what he wanted, but nothing really could have prepared her for the way his hands pulled on her arms, tugging her close to him, closer than she had any right to be as his friend.

Leah knew that no one at the bonfire around them was playing a lick of attention to them — the Pogues had been a hot commodity for all of two minutes when they’d arrived, a bit of attention of the newly freed John B, but that spectacle had gone stale all too quickly. And yet, her heart didn’t seem to care because there was something daunting, exciting about him treating her like this in public.

She knew from experience that JJ was nonchalant about PDA, making out and dancing with people at parties before with not a care in the world. His standing close to her and tugging him into her like he was some fictional pretty boy starring in a cheesy teen rom com shouldn’t have made her feel as special as it did but this was just different.

It was him and it was her and there were so many things about this situation that seemed like they’d only ever exist in vague daydreams. It seemed like there shouldn’t have been a universe where he’d look at her like the way he was right now, with anything more than friendship.

“We can even ditch,” JJ told her with a grin, eyes sparkling just a bit in the firelight. His hands slipped from her arms to her hips smoothly, like being nonchalant about this kind of shit came all too naturally to him. “Me, you, and the lighter fluid.”

She was certain that he could see her sour mood diminish embarrassingly quick as she asked, “Oh really? To do what, exactly?”

“That all depends on how you wanna spend your time tonight,” JJ answered, giving her one of his easy, mischievous smiles, that fucking smile that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

Leah wasn’t sure how long she’d cared for him like this. Maybe it had only been a few days, maybe since Midsummers, or hell, maybe it had been forever, her subconscious just waiting for that perfect moment for it to click that her joking I hate you’s were laced with something else, something more.

“Know a good place, too,” he added, gesturing his head towards the tree line past the wall, into the woods where most people only vacated to for hookups, which definitely didn’t go over her head.

“If you’re taking me to where you take all your bonfire party hook ups to, I’ll pass,” Leah remarked dryly. She didn’t intend the words to come out slightly bitter, and she thought she passed them off as joking as she could, but she couldn’t ignore the twist in her chest at the thought.

Before all of this, she wouldn’t have even batted an eye at JJ possibly having secret bonfire hookup spots, but now? Now the thought made a ball of lead form in her stomach.

“I mean I took Pope there once when I didn’t want to share my good weed with anyone.”

This time, she didn’t try to hide the laughter that bubbled over her lips. “Oh, perfect, I get to see where you wander off with Pope, wonderful.”

“So you’re in?”

She pretended to ponder it for a moment, but it was clear to just about anyone — especially JJ who knew her better than anyone in the world — that she’d had the answer sitting on her tongue. “I guess I could spare you a few minutes.”

JJ grinned at her, once again shooting her that fucking smile and she wasn’t sure if it was that or the way he replied with, “That’s my girl!” made her feel like she could fucking conquer the fucking world, off-kilter or not.

#asks #touch prompts #mayson #claryxjackson

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